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thehighladywrites · 14 days

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acotar men as baby daddies !

pairing: acotar men x fem!reader

summary: how is the dynamic with your hot baby daddy? click read more to find out😁

warnings: nsfw, smut, sexual themes, public sex, kinda toxic reader in rhysand’s part, manipulation, oral (m. + f. receiving), jealousy, baby daddies have no sense of shame whatsoever

amara’s note: i’m so sorry for exluding daddy eris i really love him but i swear i couldn’t think of anything for him💔💔💔💔

AZRIEL

“Hi, babygirl! I missed you so much,” you say, bending down to scoop your daughter into a warm hug as Azriel quietly locks the door behind him.

“Missed you too, mommy! Look what daddy got me! Isn’t it pretty?” She twirls, her little face lighting up as she shows off her new Barbie backpack, pulling out a matching doll with excitement.

“It’s beautiful! Barbie’s your favorite, right? Did you remember to say thank you to daddy?”

“Uh-huh! I said thank you to both of them.”

“Both?” you ask, your smile faltering just a bit.

“Daddy and his girlfriend. She’s really so pretty, almost like Barbie.”

Your stomach twists as you glance up at Azriel, who’s watching you intently, watching your reaction. “That’s really nice, honey,” you say, forcing a smile as your mind races.

This isn’t the first time your daughter has mentioned one of Azriel’s dates, and it’s starting to become a pattern. The man is honestly kind of a whore. There’s always someone new, not that you care or anything. A girlfriend wouldn’t bother you, someone your daughter sees and recognize, but Azriel is dating someone new every week and you don’t want that for your daughter.

“How about you go play with your new Barbie in your room for a little bit?”

She nods, happily skipping off to her room with her new toy, leaving you alone with Azriel. As soon as she’s out of sight, you straighten up and turn to him, your tone firm. “Azriel, I’ve asked you before—stop bringing random fucking women around my daughter.”

“Our daughter. And she’s not my girlfriend, just a friend—no need to get jealous,” he replies with a small smile, his tone light as if trying to diffuse the tension.

You can’t help but make a disgusted face before scoffing. “Jealous? You’re absolutely delusional if you think that’s what this is about. And wipe that smirk off your face—this isn’t a joke. I don’t want our daughter seeing you with a different woman every other minute, doing crazy things to them. Who knows what kind of example that’s setting?”

Azriel’s smile fades as he takes in your words. “I don’t do things to them, you’re overthinking it. But… I hear you,” he says, his tone more serious now.

“Good,” you reply, your frustration still simmering beneath the surface. “I’m stressed enough as it is, and the last thing I need is to worry about you messing with her head.”

Azriel smiles again. “You said you were stressed, huh?” He gets extremely close, towering over you. “Talking about it really helps.”

Azriel’s version of talk is taking you upstairs and putting his head between your legs, his tongue lapping at your throbbing pussy. He sucked on your clit, making you go cross-eyed in pleasure.

“Az,” you moaned as your fingers raked through his hair for a good grip to push him in deeper. Azriel doesn’t pull up for air or anything, he’d happily be suffocated to death if that meant you came.

Your back arches as his tongue lick long slow stripes. his dark gaze heavy with lust as he looks up at you. your chest is heaving, your tight walls flexing around the wet muscle when he pushes it inside of you, groaning when your hands pull at the dark roots of his hair, leaving it to fall messy over his eyes.

“look so pretty, shit—still stressed out?”

You manage to shake your head as felt your orgasm approaching quickly, thighs closing in around his head while your body writhed against the sheets of your bed.

“S-shit, cumming!” You tried to be quiet considering your daughter was not too far away. He slurped up your juices, not letting a drop go to waste.

No matter who you two dated, you always ended up back in each other’s beds. It was a pattern you knew by heart. He’d sneak out before morning to avoid confusing your daughter, and you’d be left with that familiar wave of regret that—

“Let me take you out Friday night. I want to give us another shot.”

—

CASSIAN

You put the final touches on your makeup, trying to be as quiet as possible with your kid asleep in the next room.

Cassian couldn’t possibly be late—he lived just a few floors down. When he’d agreed to the divorce so quickly, it stung a little, but then he’d gone and moved into the same apartment building, claiming it was “to be closer to his son.” You’d just rolled your eyes at that.

Living this close to him made it easy to call when you were horny and wanted a good fuck. I mean, isn’t it natural to fuck your baby daddy from time to time?

It was his weekend with your son, so you were finally free to go out and enjoy a child-free night. You sat at your vanity, touching up your hair when you heard light knocks at the door.

You opened it quietly, finding Cassian towering over you. His eyes immediately wandered down to your chest, lingering on your very, very short dress that barely covered anything. He grinned, clearly entertained. “Where you goin’ tonight?”

You rolled your eyes, closing the door softly behind him. Cassian always kept tabs on you, despite not being together anymore. “Out.”

Cassian stepped closer, his cologne filling the small space between you, making your head swim with the delicious scent of him. “Out?” he echoed, his voice low, teasing. “What’s outside?”

“Uh, date— I’m going on a date. With… someone.” The words tumbled out of your mouth, a bit too fast, a bit too shaky. Cassian was getting closer, too close, his eyes locked onto yours with that intense gaze that always made you nervous. He looked as handsome as ever. You could feel the wall creeping up behind you as you prayed you’d resist him this time.

“Cassian, you’re too close,” you murmured, but your voice lacked the conviction you were aiming for.

He didn’t stop, just kept closing the distance, his presence overwhelming. “A date, huh?” he asked, his voice low, almost teasing. He was right there now, just inches away, his body heat seeping into you. “And here I thought you were staying in tonight.”

You swallowed, trying to regain your composure. “I… I’m not. So you should leave—”

Cassian smirked, leaning in just enough for you to catch his breath on your skin. “ Why? You nervous?” His voice was soft, laced with something that sent a shiver down your spine.

You nodded, barely managing a reply. “A little.”

His eyes flicked down to your lips before meeting yours again, and for a moment, you forgot how to breathe. “You don’t have to be nervous,” he said, his tone so smooth it was almost a whisper. “You look really good. Almost good enough to eat.”

And eat he did.

Your moans and noises of pure pleasure filled the room as he licked a stripe all the way to your clit, sucking on the nub.

The guilt that filled you at missing your date was quickly replaced by the unmatched pleasure Cassian was giving you. To absolutely nobody’s surprise, he had sweet-talked you into your own bed, making the date the last thing on your mind.

In the beginning, Cassian used to be distraught whenever you said you were going on a date but after managing to make you cancel and fuck him instead, he calmed down. You both knew he could effortlessly convince you anyways. It also didn’t helped that he had tongue sent from the Gods.

—

LUCIEN

“What’s wrong with you? You keep moving around,” Lucien whispers from the back row of the parents’ meeting for your daughter’s class.

You glance at him sideways, biting your lip as you debate whether to tell him the truth. Lucien looks ridiculously good tonight, and it's making it hard to focus on anything else. He’s manspreading, his muscular arms casually folded over his chest, radiating that effortless masculinity that always gets to you.

You shift in your seat again, trying—and failing—to keep your thoughts in check. Being this close to him, you can’t help but feel a little flustered. “Nothing’s wrong,” you mumble, though the way you’re squirming gives you away. You were throbbing and would have bent over on his command.

Lucien’s lips twitch into a knowing smile as he leans in slightly, his breath warm against your ear. “Are you sure about that?” His voice is low, teasing, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

You try to compose yourself, but sitting next to him and remaining unaffected? Impossible. You’re so wet and he smells delicious, you can’t ignore it even though you broke up.

“Just focus on the meeting,” you mutter, trying to sound stern. “We both know how often you forget important information regarding our daughter.”

Lucien chuckles softly, his voice dripping with amusement. “You know, you’ve got one nasty, lying mouth on you,” he murmurs, and before you can react, his arm drapes casually over your shoulders. His fingers start to stroke the back of your neck, sending an electric jolt straight through you.

Your breath hitches, and you fight the urge to lean into his touch. "Lucien, this is not the time," you manage to say, though your voice betrays how much you're enjoying it.

He leans in closer, his breath warm against your ear. “I think it is,” he whispers, his thumb grazing the sensitive skin at the nape of your neck. “And i’m dying to fix that mouth for you.”

Thankfully, you two are the only ones in the back so no one could possibly see you trying to take Lucien’s cock down your throat. The principals voice drilled on, covering your small coughs and gags.

“That’s a good girl, keep that up,” he groaned lowly, hand smoothing over your head in a comforting manner.

You hum in response, and slowly start to bob your head. You have about 30 minutes to kill, so you don’t go too fast, setting the speed gradually as his hands wrap around your hair.

Eventually the principal thanks everyone for their time and you climb back into your chair, quietly swallowing his load. You had completely missed everything the principal said but it was worth it.

—

RHYSAND

“What are you doing here?”

Rhysand’s voice was calm, but you could see the flicker of surprise in his eyes as he opened the door. You had to admit, he looked good—too good. Since the divorce, you hadn’t seen him up close, and damn, it was clear he’d been putting in some extra hours at the gym. His fitted shirt clung to his muscles in all the right places, making you momentarily forget the hell you’d put each other through.

“I thought I’d stop by and say hi to the father of my kids,” you replied smoothly, letting your eyes shamelessly trail down his body before brushing past him and stepping into his townhouse. The familiar scent of him, that intoxicating mix of cologne and something uniquely Rhys, wrapped around you, pulling you in deeper.

He sighed, shutting the door behind you, a knowing look on his face. “You know, I’d love to believe that, but I know you too well,” he said, crossing his arms as he turned to face you. “What do you really want?”

You moved closer, your hand landing on his chest with a playful smile before you pulled back, fingers lingering just a second too long. “That’s a nice shirt,” you complimented, ignoring his question. “Makes you look real good, Rhysie.”

“I know you well enough to know you’re here for something,” he repeated, his tone more insistent. His eyes narrowed slightly, trying to read you. “Now, what do you want?”

You pouted, fluttering your lashes in mock innocence. “Don’t be mean, rhysie. I mean, can’t I stop by and say hi?”

He raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by your act. But there was a spark in his eyes, one that told you he wasn’t entirely immune to your presence, even after everything.

“What if I said I missed you?” you asked, your heels clicking against his expensive marble floor that was once yours too.

Rhysand’s eyes tracked your every step, his expression hardening. “I’d say you’re full of shit,” he replied, his voice edged with the same bitterness that had colored your last days together.

“I’m honest—”

Rhysand’s jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tightening as he fought to keep his composure. “Don’t play games with me. I’m sick of your lies.”

You stepped closer, the air between you electric with tension. “Who says I’m playing?” you whispered, your voice daring him to believe you.

Jealousy rooted in you when you heared he was taking a liking to a girl named Feyre. Rhysand would always belong to you. You had to secure him before things moved forward.

To really sell your act, you leaned in even closer, your lips brushing his ear as you whispered, “C’mon, Rhysie. I wanna do it. You know no one else fucks as good as you, right?” Your voice was soft, dripping with temptation, and you knew the effect it had on him. The way his breath hitched, the way his hands twitched at his sides—it all told you you were getting to him.

“Don’t you miss me?” you added, your glossy lips curling into a smile as you pulled back just enough to look him in the eye. You could see the struggle in his gaze, the war between wanting to push you away and wanting to pull you closer. When he finally nodded, you were excited beyond belief.

“Then give in,” you murmured against his lips, your voice a sultry invitation. “I’ll let you put it in wherever you want too.” A playful smile tugged at your lips as you brushed your mouth over his, teasing him just enough before capturing his lips in a deep, lingering kiss.

Before you knew it, your panties where around your ankles, moans where echoing through the house as he fucked you from behind. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as he repeatedly hit that sweet spot.

Rhysand knows he can’t resist you, and that’s exactly why he tries so hard to pretend otherwise. He loves this game of push and pull that keeps things electrifying between you. It’s a twisted thing, something he would never give up easily.

That’s why he’s fucking you the way he is right now—hungrily, rough. It betrays how much he craves you. He won’t admit it, not even to himself, but deep down, he’s addicted to this sick little game. The thrill, the tension, the way you challenge him—it’s intoxicating.

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velarisdusk · 1 month

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Cursed Flame

Eris Vanserra x Reader

word count: 8k

content: [ explicit sexual content, unprotected PIV, rough sex, oral sex (m receiving), fingering (f receiving), biting, oral fixation, enemies to lovers (as much lovers as I could fit into an 8k fic) | mentions of: blood, attempted murder via witch curse | strong language ]

summary: When Eris Vanserra, heir to the Autumn Court, stumbles into a healer's shop under a mysterious curse, it sets off a chain of events neither could have anticipated. As the skilled healer works to unravel the dark magic threatening his life, tension and attraction crackle between them.

author's note: SO EXCITED FOR YALL TO READ THIS ONE!!!!!!! i received this ask a bit ago and i couldn't wait to write it. i hope you all enjoy! as per usual, no beta, so if you see any typos no you didnt

The shop is a warm refuge in the heart of the Autumn Court, its walls painted a calming sage green and lined with shelves filled with jars of dried herbs and roots. Sunlight filters through the tall windows, casting soft, golden light on a thick, woven rug. The scent of lavender and rosemary lingers in the air, mingling with the quiet crackle of a low fire in the hearth.

You move methodically around the shop, stocking freshly dried herbs on the shelves. Your fingers brush over the labels, ensuring everything is in its place. The rhythmic work is soothing—a welcome distraction.

Reaching up to place a jar on the top shelf, you're caught off guard when the door suddenly slams open. The force of it startles you, and you instinctively drop the pendant of your necklace from your mouth as you spin around to face the intruder.

Eris Vanserra stands in the doorway, his usually pristine appearance disheveled, his skin pale and lips tinged with an unhealthy shade of blue. He looks unwell — like something is gnawing away at him from the inside out.

“Looking a little paler than usual,” you murmur, your tone caught between concern and the dry sarcasm that usually colors your interactions with him. But even as you speak, you’re already moving toward him, instinctively assessing his condition. Grabbing your tools, you hurry to where Eris has collapsed into the armchair by the hearth.

“What happened?” you ask, scanning him for visible injuries but finding none. “When did this start?”

Eris leans back, his breathing labored, and then he coughs violently, a splatter of blood staining his hand. He looks at it with shock and frustration.

“Tell me everything,” you demand, already rifling through your supplies for anything that could help diagnose whatever this is. “What did you eat? Drink? Did you come into contact with anything unusual?”

His eyes narrow in irritation as you continue to probe. “Why does it matter? Just heal me and I’ll be on my way.”

You give him an incredulous look, stunned by the sheer stupidity of his question.

“What…? Mother above- if you want me to help, I need to know what’s causing this. Did you encounter any dark magic?”

You move to check his pulse, frowning at the erratic rhythm and his lack of response. “If you’re going to be like that, just go to your family’s healer,” you mutter, not bothering to hide your irritation. You place the back of your hand on his forehead, noting the strange combination of cool skin and unnatural heat radiating from his chest.

“Do you think I’m here because I’d like to be?” Eris snaps, coughing again, though this time with less blood.

You ignore his tone, turning your attention to the herbs and ingredients at your disposal. After a few minutes of methodically preparing and steeping the herbs, you hand him a steaming cup. “Drink this,” you instruct.

He takes the cup but eyed it skeptically. “What is it?”

“It’ll react if there’s poison in your system,” you explain, your tone firm as you watch him closely, waiting.

He lifts the cup reluctantly, sipping as you hover your hands over his chest, closing your eyes to focus on sensing any magical disturbances. “Why can’t you see your family’s healer?” you ask, murmuring a chant under your breath as you work.

“He’s busy,” Eris replies tightly, though his expression suggests there’s more to the story.

You press your lips together as you complete your chant, waiting for any sign of magic—an aura, a pulse of energy, anything. But there’s nothing. Frustration wells up, and you move to the shelves, selecting a vial of a potent potion that reveals the presence of dark spells. You hand it to him, but before you can tell him to wait, he lifts the vial to his lips.

“Wait—” you start, but it’s too late. He drinks the contents of the vial, grimacing at the taste as he swallows.

The dark tendrils of the potion begin to swirl beneath his skin, their movement barely noticeable through the fabric of his shirt. Panic surges through you, and without thinking, you reach forward and rip open his shirt, buttons flying everywhere.

Eris recoils slightly, a flash of irritation crossing his face. “Do you have any idea how much that shirt costs? More than you make in a month, I’d wager.”

You shoot him a sharp glare, not bothering to hide your exasperation. “Definitely not as much as making that potion cost me,” you retort, focusing on the dark tendrils now clearly visible beneath his skin. The potion is reacting to something, though it’s still not enough to fully reveal what’s wrong.

Eris glares at you, but before he can respond, another wave of pain hits him, forcing a troubling series of coughs out of him. This time, blood stains his lips, and the dark tendrils pulse ominously with the movement.

Ignoring his earlier complaint, you press your hand against his chest, feeling the unnatural heat beneath your fingertips. The tendrils shift and twist just beneath the surface of his skin as if something dark is trying to break free. “Are you usually this hot?” you murmur, more to yourself than to him, as you watch the tendrils fade back into nothingness.

Eris’s lips curve into a smirk, despite his condition. “I wasn’t aware you found me so irresistible,” he drawls, his tone laced with that familiar cocky arrogance.

You roll your eyes, not even dignifying his comment with a response, refocusing on the task at hand.

With a sigh, you grab the vial from him and set it aside, biting your thumbnail as you wrack your brain for ideas. You decide to turn to a more traditional method. “Stand up,” you instruct, grabbing a fresh egg from a small basket. Eris raises an eyebrow, but you don’t give him a chance to question it. “I’m going to perform an egg cleanse. It’s an old method, but it’s effective for detecting curses.”

He complies, albeit reluctantly, standing from the chair. You glance up at him, realizing you can’t quite reach the top of his head. “Bend your knees a bit. I can’t reach that high.”

Eris smirks, but obliges, lowering himself slightly so you can reach the crown of his head. You begin by holding the egg just above his scalp, moving it slowly around the top of his head and down his neck. You notice his jaw clench, the muscles tightening under your careful movements.

You continue to work your way down, the egg warming slightly in your hand as it absorbs the negative energy. The air feels thick with tension as you move the egg over his shoulders and bare chest, noticing how he tenses when you pass it over his thighs. His body reacts subtly, with a slight shift in posture, a clenching of his fist at his side, as if he’s fighting to keep his composure.

“Anything yet?” Eris presses, his tone light, almost as if he’s making conversation, but you can hear the underlying tension. “Or are you just playing with eggs for fun?”

“Hold still,” you mutter, ignoring his jab as you complete the cleanse. When you reach his feet, you pause, feeling the unsettling energy still clinging to the egg in your hand. You ask him to lift each foot slightly so you can pass the egg underneath. He does so with a small huff of annoyance, muttering something you couldn’t bother yourself to care about.

Finally, you finish the cleanse, bringing the egg back up to his head and closing the circle. The egg feels heavier in your hand now, almost throbbing with the energy it’s absorbed. You step back, holding the egg up to the light, examining it carefully.

“What are you seeing?” he asks, his voice steady, but you catch the edge of something beneath the calm facade. “What’s wrong?”

With a frown, you walk to the counter, grab a glass, and fill it with water. Eris watches you, curiosity and impatience on his face as you crack the egg into the glass.

The moment the shell breaks, your breath catches in your throat as the realization hits you like a physical blow. The web-like structures forming in the egg’s whites, the dark red blood swirling through the yolk—they aren’t just signs of any curse. They’re markers, symbols that reveal the curse’s origin. A curse that dark, that potent, could only come from someone with a deep, intimate connection to the target. Someone who shares his blood.

Eris leans over your shoulder, his eyes narrowing at the sight. “That’s not normal, is it?” he asks, his tone still deceptively casual, but you can hear the sharp edge of concern creeping into his voice.

You shake your head slowly, staring at the cursed egg. “No,” you reply, your voice low and tense. “Eris,” you begin, your voice trembling slightly as the weight of your discovery settles in. “This… this isn’t just any curse. It was arranged by someone who’s tied to you by blood. They must have paid a witch to curse you.”

His eyes widen, the casual facade slipping as your words sink in. He straightens, stepping back as if physically recoiling from the truth. For a moment, he’s silent, his usually sharp mind racing to process what you’ve just told him. But the tension in his jaw, the way his hands clench into fists, betrays the anger simmering beneath the surface.

“One of my brothers,” he murmurs, his voice low and deadly. There’s no question in his tone, only cold, calculated fury. The possibility of betrayal from within his own bloodline cuts deep, and you can see it in the way his expression darkens, in the way his shoulders stiffen as if preparing for battle.

You nod slowly, still staring at the cursed egg, your mind racing as you try to make sense of it all. “Whoever did this didn’t just want to hurt you—the curse is meant to kill, Eris.”

His gaze flickers back to you, and for a brief moment, you see something vulnerable in his eyes, something raw and unguarded. But then it’s gone, replaced by the cold determination that you’ve come to expect from him.

As you stare at the cursed egg’s results, frustration and determination mix in your mind. You need to figure out where the curse is coming from. “Wait here,” you tell him, already moving towards the shelves.

You start rummaging through your collection of enchanted tools and artifacts. You pull out a magnifying glass with runes etched into its frame—designed to detect magical auras. With it, you examine the egg’s remnants, trying to find any additional clues. Still focused, you then grab a small jar of salt, used for creating protective circles, and a vial of basic anti-magic tincture.

You hold the magnifying glass over Eris’s body, carefully examining for any magical disturbances. The glass shows a faint, dark aura around his entire form, but it’s still unclear where the source is. The salt is meant to amplify magical reactions, so you grab the jar and sprinkle some in a protective circle around him. As you observe, the dark aura becomes more pronounced, shifting and swirling. Still, it’s not pinpointed enough to identify the exact source of the curse.

You then use the anti-magic tincture, dabbing it on various parts of him: his hands, shoulders, his ankles, and on his clothing. The tincture reacts, but again, it does not specify where the curse is anchored. You decide to turn to a more direct method.

You remove one of the rings from Eris’s hand, placing it on a small tray before examining it closely with the magnifying glass. The ring is stunning, with a polished tiger’s eye stone that seems to capture and reflect the light with every movement. The stone is set in intricately crafted silver, engraved with delicate, swirling patterns reminiscent of flames. It’s a ring befitting Eris Vanserra—elegant yet undeniably powerful. This time, you notice the dark tendrils of magic intensify around the ring, more clearly than on the other items.

“This ring,” you say, realization dawning as you see the dark magic swirling more intensely, “Have you given it to anyone lately?”

Eris’s brows furrow in confusion. “No, why would I do that? It’s one of my favorites.”

You raise an eyebrow, crossing your arms and biting your lip in thought. “Are you sure? Any recent changes, anyone who might have had access to it?”

He hesitates, shifting uncomfortably. “I—well, I didn’t give it to anyone, but…” He sighs, sitting back down and looking down at the ring. “I woke up one morning and found it missing from my jewelry box. I only found it a few days later, yesterday, under the dresser.”

You nod, your mind racing with the implications. “That’s significant. The timing fits with when the curse seems to have taken hold. It’s likely that someone who knew about the ring might have tampered with it.” Eris’s expression darkens, and he clenches his jaw.

You give him a sympathetic look. “Luckily, it seems whoever cast this curse used extremely rudimentary techniques. I should be able to take care of it relatively easily… Go lie down in the back room,” you tell him, pointing at the door behind the front counter. “I’ll be there in a bit with what I need to start the healing process.”

Eris nods and heads to the back room, his demeanor more subdued now. As he disappears behind the door, you turn back to the counter, gathering the rest of your supplies. The task ahead is daunting, but you’re determined to see it through.

As he disappears into the back room, you take a deep breath, centering yourself as you gather the necessary items for the healing process. Your mind is consumed with the details of what you need, and you absentmindedly reach for a pen from the counter, sliding the end of it between your lips as you think through your list—cleansing herbs, protective talismans, and special antidotes to counteract the curse. You pull out a small wooden box and start preparing the mixtures, setting out vials and jars with practiced ease.

You move through the shop, grabbing the fresh batch of herbs and an old family recipe for a purification salve. As you’re about to head to the back room, you pause, realizing you need one more item. You hastily grab a small vial of enchanted water, known for its potency in breaking curses.

With everything in hand, you head towards the back room, your nerves steeling for the task ahead. You open the door and step inside, where Eris is lying on the sofa, looking more subdued and less defiant.

“Alright,” you say, laying out the items on a nearby table. “I need you to strip, so I can massage the salve into your skin.”

Eris raises an eyebrow, his posture relaxed despite his condition. He lounges on the plush sofa, the luxurious fabric seeming to contrast sharply with his unwell state. He is draped elegantly over the cushions, looking effortlessly refined even in his weakened state. “Are you always so forward with your clients?” he asks, a lazy, yet sardonic smile playing on his lips.

You shoot him a wry smile. “Only the ones who show up at my door covered in curses. I promise, I’ll try to keep it as professional as possible.”

Eris arches an eyebrow, glancing down at his torn shirt before meeting your eyes with a smirk. “I’ll be curious to see just how ‘professional’ you manage to be, given the state of my shirt.”

“I suppose my attempt at professionalism might seem a bit questionable after that,” you respond, trying to match his playful tone. “But given the circumstances, I promise to keep my focus on getting you sorted out.”

Eris smirks, clearly entertained by your response. “I’ll hold you to that,” he replies, making no move to cover up as he removes his shirt. He casually kicks off his boots and slips out of his pants. He starts to remove his underwear, but you quickly hold up a hand, a hint of discomfort in your voice.

“Uh, you can keep those on,” you say, your tone awkward. “I really don’t need to see more of you than I already have.”

Eris raises an eyebrow but complies, lying back on the sofa in his remaining attire. He stretches out, his posture relaxed despite his state.

You try to maintain your composure as you prepare to apply the salve, aware of the subtle flush on your cheeks at the sight of him.

You take the salve and begin applying it to his skin, your hands gliding over the thick, soothing mixture. The salve is warm and slightly sticky, and you work it into his flesh with careful, deliberate strokes. His skin is pale and warm under your touch, marked with faint, livid lines where the curse has taken hold. Despite his condition, his muscles are firm and well-defined.

You try to focus on the task, but the proximity and the intimate nature of your work make your cheeks flush. Your hands move methodically, spreading the salve evenly over his torso, smoothing it into every defined contour. The tension in the room is almost tangible, and you do your best to maintain your composure, concentrating on the rhythm of your movements.

After a few minutes, you glance up at Eris, only to find him watching you with a smirk. You assume he’s noticed your nervousness and it makes your blush deepen, feeling the heat spread across your cheeks.

You hum as if asking “What?”, but it comes out a bit strained.

Eris chuckles softly, the sound low and knowing. “What’s the pendant on your necklace?”

You pause, momentarily distracted by his question. You glance down at the pendant but realize you’ve been toying with it between your teeth. You drop it, a sleek piece of black tourmaline set in a delicate silver setting. It catches the light, its dark, glossy surface reflecting an eerie, protective shimmer. “It’s black tourmaline,” you explain, trying to keep your voice steady as you wipe your hand on the skirt of your dress. “It’s known for protection.”

You reach up and carefully open the locket, revealing a small, intricately illustrated image nestled inside. The illustration depicts you and a scruffy little dog, your faces pressed close together. His warm brown eyes are visible, reflecting the affection between you. The artist’s delicate strokes bring out the softness and warmth of the scene, with a gentle, glowing quality.

“Here,” you say, offering the locket for Eris to see. “That’s my dog, Cedar. He’s my best friend.”

Eris glances at the illustration and raises an eyebrow. “Cute dog,” he remarks, his voice softening slightly. He takes a moment to admire it before you close the locket and turn your attention back to the task at hand.

You resume applying the salve, your hands moving carefully over his thighs. Your proximity is close, and you can’t help but be aware of the intimate nature of the task.

Eris breaks the silence, his tone is casual yet curious. “I wouldn’t have pegged you as a dog person. What’s he like?”

You continue working the salve into his skin, your hands deftly spreading it. “Cedar? He’s a little bundle of energy. Loves to play and is always up for an adventure. Not very fond of arrogant redheads.”

Eris chuckles softly. “Sounds like quite a character. I’ve got a few ghost hounds myself. Jasper’s the mischievous one, Ember’s more reserved but loyal, and Thorne... well, he’s a bit of a troublemaker. They each have their own quirks, but they’re a handful.” He smiles faintly, a hint of fondness in his eyes.

You nod, trying to focus on the salve while managing the awkward proximity. “Sounds like they’re quite a pack.”

Eris’s eyes twinkle with a mixture of amusement and affection as he regards you. “They are. All twelve of them.”

You clear your throat, doing your best to shake off the distraction of Eris’s body under your hands. “Twelve? That’s… quite a lot,” you manage to say, hoping your voice doesn’t betray how flustered you are.

Eris gives a small, almost smug nod. “They’re quite the company.”

You force a small smile, quickly refocusing on the task at hand before your scent gives you away. “Alright, I need you to flip over so I can get your back,” you instruct, your voice steadier now.

Eris moves with a grace that belies the curse’s toll, turning onto his stomach. As he settles, you catch yourself marveling at the expanse of his back, the way his muscles shift beneath his skin. You work the salve into his skin, starting at his shoulders and moving downward. Your fingers glide over the planes of his back, kneading the thick mixture into his skin with slow, deliberate motions.

When you reach his lower back, you can’t help but notice how firm and tight his muscles are. You swallow hard, trying to focus on the task and not on how ridiculously sculpted he is. This close, his scent—woodsy and warm, with a hint of spice—mixes with the herbs of the salve, creating an intoxicating blend that makes your heart race.

With the salve fully applied, you stand and step back, wiping your hands on a cloth. You retrieve the small vial of enchanted water from your supplies. The liquid inside shimmers faintly, a sign of its potency.

You kneel beside Eris and unstopper the vial, letting a few drops spill into your palm. “This will help neutralize any residual dark magic,” you explain, mostly to fill the silence as you pour the water into your hands. It’s cool to the touch, sending a slight tingle through your fingers.

Gently, you begin to rub the enchanted water into his skin, starting at his shoulders and moving downward again. You feel a faint warmth where the water touches his skin, a sign that the curse is reacting to the cleansing magic. You mutter a soft incantation under your breath as you work, tracing the lines of his muscles with your fingertips to ensure the water reaches every part of him.

Eris lies still beneath you, but you can sense his awareness of your every move. The tension between you is palpable, like a coiled spring waiting to snap. But you focus on your work, pushing aside the awkwardness.

You clear your throat softly. “Flip back over. I need to do your front.”

Eris obliges, rolling onto his back again. As you begin to apply the enchanted water to his chest, your hands instinctively move in slow, deliberate circles. The cool liquid glides over the hard planes of his abs and pecs, and you find yourself distracted by the feel of his muscles beneath your fingertips. His skin is smooth, marred only by the faint, dark lines of the curse, but the tautness of his body is impossible to ignore.

Your thoughts begin to wander, unbidden. The definition of his abs under your touch, the way his chest rises and falls steadily with each breath, the heat radiating from him despite the coolness of the water—all of it feels too intimate, too close. You lose yourself in the rhythm of the massage, each movement deliberate, but tinged with an awareness you wish you could ignore.

When you finally finish applying the water, you take a step back and wipe your hands again. “That should do it,” you say, though your voice comes out softer than you intended. “Now we just need to give it time to work.”

Eris slowly sits up, his movements careful and deliberate. He glances at you, and for a moment, his usual guarded expression softens. "Thank you," he says quietly, the words carrying a weight that surprises you.

You nod, unsure of how to respond to the sudden shift in his demeanor. "Just... make sure you rest. The curse should start breaking down now, but you'll need time to recover-"

Eris cuts you off, his tone turning teasing as he leans forward. "You always seem to be keeping that mouth of yours busy, don't you?"

You blink, caught off guard by the sudden comment. "Excuse me?"

His gaze drops pointedly to your hand, and it's only then that you realize your thumbnail is between your teeth. You quickly pull it away, trying to mask your embarrassment with a frown. "I wasn't-"

"Oh, you were," he interrupts, the smirk playing on his lips growing. "First your necklace, now your nails. And don't think I didn't notice you biting your lip earlier. Tell me, is this a nervous habit or something else?"

You huff, the irritation building slowly. "It's nothing. Just a habit, alright?"

He tilts his head, his eyes narrowing slightly as if he's dissecting your every move. "A habit, hmm? Interesting."

You roll your eyes, exasperation creeping into your tone. "Look, it's really none of your business. I just did you a favor, saving your life; can't you drop the smart remarks for once?"

Eris's smirk doesn't waver. "A favor? Let's not pretend you didn't enjoy getting your hands all over me," he says, his voice dripping with mockery. "You were practically drooling over me."

Your face burns, and you take a step forward, anger and embarrassment now battling for dominance. "I was doing my job, Eris. If I took any extra care, it was because I had to-your life was in my hands, not because I wanted to."

He arches an eyebrow, clearly amused by your rising frustration. "So you admit you were being thorough."

You let out a frustrated breath, the tension between you crackling like a live wire. "You're insufferable, you know that? Not everything is about you."

His voice drops to a low, teasing whisper. “If it’s just a job, then why do you look like you’ve been caught red-handed?”

Your eyes widen at his insinuation, and you struggle to find a retort, feeling both flustered and infuriated by his smugness.

Your heart skips a beat at the intensity in his gaze, the raw challenge in his words. "What does it matter to you?" you snap back, though your voice falters, the heat of the moment starting to overwhelm you. "You're just trying to get under my skin."

Eris's gaze flickers to your lips, and you feel the air between you grow heavy, charged with an undeniable tension. "Maybe I am," he murmurs, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Or maybe I'm just waiting for you to admit you want this as much as I do."

Your breath catches, and for a moment, the world narrows down to just the two of you, the magnetic pull between you impossible to ignore. You shake your head, trying to maintain your composure despite the heat in your cheeks. "You don't really want this," you retort, your voice coming out more uncertain than you intended.

Eris's smirk widens, and he stands impossibly close to you, his eyes dark with intensity. "Oh, but I do."

You meet his gaze, feeling a surge of defiance and desire. "Prove it," you challenge, your voice barely above a whisper.

Eris responds to your challenge with a fierce intensity. He closes the space between you with a sudden, forceful kiss that takes your breath away. His lips crash against yours, and the kiss is a wild, heated clash of desire and frustration.

Your lips meet with a ferocity that makes your head spin, his hands gripping your face as if he's afraid you might pull away. His mouth moves against yours with a demanding urgency, his tongue pushing past your lips to tangle with yours. The kiss is rough, almost desperate, as if he's trying to prove something with every touch.

You feel his teeth nip at your lower lip, sharp and insistent, and the sudden spark of pain only intensifies the heat between you. Your hands find their way to his hair, gripping it tightly and pulling him closer if possible, as if trying to merge your bodies together.

Eris's fingers tangle in your hair, his grip firm as he tilts your head to deepen the kiss. His movements are driven by a raw, unrestrained need, and you can feel his breath come in ragged gasps against your skin. Each touch, each movement is a battle, a clash of passion and frustration.

You respond in kind, your own fingers digging into his scalp, your nails scratching lightly as you try to keep up with the fierce pace he sets. The kiss is a war of wills, a struggle for dominance that leaves you both breathless and hungry for more.

Finally, the intensity of the kiss subsides, but only slightly. You pull away just enough to look into each other's eyes, both of you panting heavily, faces flushed. The moment is charged with an electric tension, a mix of anger and desire that hangs in the air between you.

Eris's eyes are dark and intense as he stares at you, a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. "Is that proof enough?" he asks, his voice low and rough.

Your lips slam into his again, and you press your body against his with a forceful urgency, your hands roaming over his bare torso. Eris’s initial surprise quickly turns into fervor. His hands move over your back and sides, his touch rough but deliberate. His fingers brush along the fabric of your dress, tugging it slightly as he pulls you closer. His hands glide over your waist, up your sides, and finally settle at the small of your back, pulling you so close that there’s no space left between your bodies. Your hands explore his chest, feeling the hard planes of muscle beneath his smooth skin, and you can’t help but dig your nails in slightly, relishing the shudder that ripples through him.

“You’re such a pain,” you murmur against his lips, your voice breathy but laced with irritation. “Always so arrogant, thinking everyone wants you.”

Eris’s response is a low growl, his lips curving into a wicked smile as he pulls back just enough to look at you. “And yet here you were, begging me to strip under the guise of helping me. I guess my arrogance isn’t so misplaced after all.”

Your retort is immediate, biting. “Guise? I did help you, don’t flatter yourself. This isn’t about you—it’s about shutting you up.” You punctuate your words by biting down on his lower lip, hard enough to make him hiss in a mix of pain and pleasure.

He chuckles, the sound low and mocking. “Is that what you’re telling yourself? That this is just about shutting me up?” His grip on your hips tightens, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. “Keep lying to yourself if it helps you sleep at night. But we both know you’re enjoying this.”

You shove him back slightly, just enough to regain some space, your chest heaving with both desire and defiance. “You’re delusional. If anything, I’m doing this to prove you wrong.” But even as you say it, your hands are already trailing lower, brushing over the hard lines of his abdomen, testing his resolve.

Eris’s smirk never falters. “Keep telling yourself that,” he says, his voice thick with lust and challenge. “But we both know the truth—you can’t resist me any more than I can resist you.”

“Resist?” You scoff, though your voice wavers with the intensity of the moment. “Who said anything about resisting? Maybe I’m just enjoying the moment before I throw you out.”

His eyes darken further, a primal edge sharpening his features. “You talk a big game, but I can feel how much you’re into this.” His hand slides up your thigh, pushing the fabric of your dress’s long skirt aside with forceful impatience. “Or do you want me to stop and see if you beg?”

You meet his challenge head-on, your eyes blazing. “Beg? I’d rather die.”

He grins, his teeth flashing in the dim light as his hand continues its relentless exploration. “We’ll see.”

With that, he kisses you again, the force of it pushing you both back until you’re pinned against the wall, his body pressing into yours with an intensity that makes your head spin. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling hard, and he groans into your mouth, his own grip on you tightening as the need between you becomes impossible to ignore.

"You're insufferable," you hiss, though your fingers are still digging into his skin, still trailing over the hard lines of his chest.

Eris’s mouth swallows your frustrated words. “Then shut me up,” he murmurs against your lips, his voice dripping with challenge.

You take the bait, pulling him closer as you bite down on his lip again, harder this time, drawing a low groan from him. His hands slip under your dress, the roughness of his touch sending a shiver up your spine. “That all you’ve got?” he taunts, his voice ragged.

You pull back just enough to meet his gaze, your eyes locked with his in a heated stare. “I can do a lot more than that,” you shoot back, your voice dripping with defiance.

“Prove it,” he snarls, his hands tightening on your hips as if daring you to push the boundaries further.

Your gaze never wavers from his as you slowly begin to sink to your knees in front of him. Eris's breath hitches slightly, his eyes darkening with a mix of surprise and something else, something far more primal.

“Careful,” he warns, though there’s a rough edge to his voice that betrays his anticipation. “You might find yourself in over your head.”

You smirk, defiant as ever. “I’m sure I can handle you,” you say, your voice low and challenging as you settle in front of him, pulling his underwear down and freeing his cock. It springs up, slapping against his skin. Eris's breath catches again, this time more audibly, as your fingers wrap around him, the warmth of your touch eliciting a shudder from him. For a moment, the air between you is charged, thick with tension. His fiery gaze locks onto yours, his usual cool demeanor cracking just enough to reveal the raw desire simmering beneath the surface.

“Is that so?” His voice is a rasp, heavy with lust, yet there's still a trace of his usual arrogance, as if he’s not entirely convinced you know what you’re getting into. His hand slides into your hair, not quite a caress but not entirely a threat either.

You look up at him through your lashes, your smirk never fading as you lean in, the tip of your tongue teasing the sensitive head of his cock. Eris's grip tightens involuntarily, and you feel a surge of satisfaction at the way his control is already starting to slip.

“Keep pushing me, and I won’t be able to stop myself,” he growls. But you don’t intend to stop. You want to see him unravel, to take him apart piece by piece until there’s nothing left of his carefully constructed composure. Your mouth closes around him, taking him deeper, your movements slow, savoring the way he swears under his breath, his hips jerking slightly as if he can’t help but respond to the pleasure you’re giving him.

“Fuck,” he mutters and braces his hand against the wall as you cup his balls. The last of his restraint frays as you take him deeper, the heat of your mouth and the slick glide of your tongue driving him mad with pleasure.

His dominance, his ever-present need to be in control, is slipping through his fingers, and you can see it in the way his eyes flutter shut, in the way his head tips back, exposing the strong line of his throat. You’re pushing him closer and closer to the brink, and the power you feel at this moment is intoxicating, heady, and utterly addictive.

His hand tightens in your hair, and just as you feel like you’ve taken control, he pulls you back with a sudden, forceful yank. The motion is swift, leaving you gasping as he tilts your head up, pressing it back against the wall. His eyes, dark and wild, lock onto yours, and you can see the moment he decides to take the power back.

Without a word, he thrusts forward, his cock pushing past your lips in a smooth, deliberate motion, filling your mouth completely. The sensation is overwhelming—the taste of him, the pressure, the way his hips move with a raw, unrestrained need. He’s no longer holding back, no longer letting you lead.

His hand in your hair tightens even more, holding you firmly in place as he begins to fuck your mouth, each thrust rougher, more demanding than the last. You can feel the tension in his body, the way he’s fighting to maintain some semblance of control, but it’s slipping fast, and you know you’re the one driving him to this point.

“Is this what you needed?” he growls, his voice rough with the thrill of dominance. “Always biting your nails, playing with that necklace... I knew you needed something more to keep that mouth of yours busy.”

His words send a jolt of heat through you, the dark thrill only intensifying your desire. You try to nod, but his grip holds you in place, his cock filling your mouth completely, muffling any response you could give. The way he’s watching you, eyes narrowed, intense, tells you he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“Tell me,” he demands, thrusting deeper, his voice low and laced with a dark satisfaction. “You like this better, don’t you? Better than biting down on that lip of yours? You’d rather be sucking my cock, wouldn’t you?”

The words, the sheer audacity of his tone, make you whimper around him, the sound vibrating through your throat, and his grip tightens almost possessively in response. His thrusts become more erratic, each one pushing you closer to the edge, the friction, the heat building between you until it’s all-consuming.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, his voice filled with a mix of mockery and admiration. “So desperate to keep your mouth busy. Is this what you’ve been wanting all along? Something to fill that pretty little mouth, something to keep you from biting down so hard?”

You hollow your cheeks, taking him deeper, and the way he shudders makes you feel a surge of satisfaction. You’re pushing him right to the edge, and he knows it, the way his hips snap forward betraying how close he is to losing control entirely.

“Fuck,” he groans, his voice cracking with the intensity of it all. “You feel so fucking good—taking me so well. Just like that. Keep going, and I’ll make sure you never have to worry about looking for something to occupy that pretty little mouth with ever again.”

His words send you spiraling, your own desire mounting as you submit to his dominance. You can feel him throbbing in your mouth, the desperation in his movements telling you just how close he is to unraveling completely. His grip on your hair is almost punishing, but the way he’s losing himself in you is worth every second of it.

“Do you like this?” he taunts, his voice low and rough. “Better than anything else you’ve ever had between those lips?”

And just as you sense he’s about to tip over the edge, he pulls back, panting heavily, his eyes blazing with a mix of frustration and lust as he tries to regain control. But it’s too late—he’s already there, the pleasure too overwhelming to stop. With a low, guttural groan, he wraps his hand around his slick cock as he strokes himself to completion.

His hips jerk as he comes, hot and thick, painting your lips and tongue with his release. The taste of him floods your senses, salty and rich, and you can’t help but savor it, holding his gaze as you swallow every last drop. The look on his face is pure, unrestrained satisfaction, but there’s still that edge of frustration, like he’s not quite finished with you yet.

Before you can react, he hauls you to your feet, his grip firm, almost possessive. His eyes never leave yours as he reaches out, his thumb brushing against the corner of your mouth, gathering the last traces of his release. The movement is deliberate, his expression dark and unreadable as he holds his thumb in front of your lips.

“Open,” he commands, his voice rough, and without hesitation, you part your lips, sucking his thumb clean. The taste of him lingers on your tongue, and the way his eyes darken tells you he’s watching every second, every subtle movement.

His thumb slides free from your mouth, and for a moment, there’s a heavy silence between you, charged with the aftermath of what just happened and the unspoken promise of what’s to come next. Eris’s chest heaves with each breath, but the hunger in his eyes hasn’t dimmed. If anything, it’s only grown stronger, the intensity between you far from spent.

Eris’s hands find the laces on the back of your dress, his fingers deft as he begins to undo them, each tug of the fabric sending a thrill of anticipation coursing through you. His breath is still heavy, uneven, but there's a renewed focus in his movements, a meticulousness that makes your pulse quicken. The dress loosens gradually, the cool air hitting your skin as he exposes more and more of you, and the sensation of his fingers grazing your back is maddening.

You can take in the sight of him now—bare, unrestrained, his usual elegance stripped away—it sends a jolt of desire through you. But before you can revel in it, his hands are on you again, rougher this time, pulling the dress down your body until it pools at your feet.

His eyes drink you in, taking in every inch of your now-exposed skin, and the way he looks at you makes your breath hitch. There’s something almost reverent in his gaze, but it’s laced with a hunger that promises he’s far from done with you. He steps closer, and the heat radiating off him is palpable, his chest brushing against yours as he reaches down between your bodies, his hand yanking your underwear down and finding its way to your core.

Your hand slips between you, stroking him, and he groans low in his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. His fingers slide against you, a delicious friction that makes you gasp, your grip on him tightening reflexively in response. His eyes are half-lidded as he reaches behind you to undo the clasps of your bra, focused entirely on the way your body responds to him, and it sends a shiver down your spine. It’s a reminder that despite the edge you’d gained, he’s still every bit as dangerous, every bit as intoxicating.

With a growl, Eris suddenly lifts you, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist as he presses you back against the wall. The cool surface contrasts sharply with the heat of his body, and the sensation is almost overwhelming, his hard length brushing against your inner thigh, teasing, tormenting. You can feel the tension in his muscles, the barely restrained need as he grinds against you, his hand still between your legs, stoking the fire that’s been burning between you both from the start.

And then, with a swift, powerful thrust, he’s inside you, and everything else falls away—the tension, the teasing, the power struggle—until all that’s left is the raw, unrelenting desire that neither of you can deny any longer. He’s relentless, driving into you with a raw, primal need that matches your own, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure through you. The sound of your bodies colliding, the wet slide of him inside you, fills the room, mingling with the ragged breaths and low moans you can’t suppress.

“Is this what you wanted?” he growls against your neck, his teeth grazing your skin before he bites down just hard enough to make you gasp, the pain mingling with the pleasure in a way that only intensifies the sensation. His voice is rough, laced with a dark satisfaction as if he’s finally giving you what you’ve been daring him to unleash. “You’re so fucking desperate for it, aren’t you?”

“Shut up,” you snap back, but your voice comes out breathless, betraying how much you’re already unraveling. His words send a thrill through you, the taunting, the edge of danger in his tone only making you want him more. Your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving marks on his skin as you try to meet his thrusts, the pressure building inside you almost unbearable.

He smirks against your throat, his breath hot and uneven. “That’s what I thought,” he murmurs, his lips brushing against your pulse point before he bites down again, harder this time. “You want me to break you, don’t you?”

Your hands fist in his hair, yanking his head back so you can meet his gaze, the defiance in your eyes only fueling the fire between you. “Shut up,” you hiss, your voice trembling with the force of your impending release.

A dark chuckle escapes him, and he slams into you harder, the movement sending you both crashing further into the abyss of sensation. Each thrust drives you higher, the pressure in your core building, threatening to shatter you into a million pieces. His movements are wild, erratic, and yet there’s a precision to them, a calculated determination to make you lose control before he does. But you’re not about to give in easily, not when the taste of victory is so close.

“Faster,” you demand, your voice edged with desperation, and the way his eyes flash with something primal tells you he’s just as close to the edge as you are.

He obliges, his pace becoming almost brutal as he pounds into you, the sound of your name falling from his lips like a curse, like a prayer. “Fuck, you feel so good,” he groans, his voice cracking with the intensity of it all. “I’m going to ruin you.”

“I’m sure you’d love to,” you manage to choke out, but the words are barely coherent, your mind a haze of pleasure as he drives you closer and closer to oblivion.

And then he reaches down, his thumb finding your clit, circling it with just enough pressure to send you spiraling. The sudden, overwhelming sensation makes you cry out, your body arching against him as your orgasm crashes over you like a tidal wave, drowning you in bliss.

Eris isn’t far behind, the feeling of you tightening around him pushing him over the edge. He buries himself deep inside you, his own release ripping through him with a ferocity that leaves him shaking, a guttural moan escaping his lips as he finds his own release, the tension that’s been coiled so tightly between you finally snapping.

For a moment, neither of you moves, the only sound in the room is ragged breathing as you both come down from the high. His forehead rests against yours, his breath hot against your lips, and for a fleeting moment, the war between you seems to fade, leaving only the raw, unfiltered connection that this moment has forged.

But it’s only a moment.

“Don’t think this changes anything,” you murmur, your voice still breathless but laced with that familiar defiance.

Eris chuckles softly, the sound a mix of exhaustion and satisfaction. “Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it,” he replies, though there’s a softness to his voice that wasn’t there before, a hint of something more beneath the layers of antagonism.

#eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x reader smut #eris vanserra smut #acotar smut #acotar #acotar fanfic

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knoxic · 29 days

Text

Teasing and Loving

Eris Vanserra x Reader

Summary: smut, Eris being a simp, smut, emotional talk, smut

wc: 2,8k

warnings: p in v, unprotected sex, trying for a baby (hinted at), oral (m and f receiving), cum eating, no beta

a/n: technically it was part of the How to be a High Lady series but it works better as a one shot imo

"Love?" Eris called out to her, pushing her office door far enough to fit his head in, at her nod he let himself in, closing the door behind him. "A letter arrived from Winter." He gently set the letter on her table, away from the other papers scattered around the place.

"Oh, what did they want?" She looked up from the book she was studying, catching the amused grin he tried to hide.

"I don't know, it's for you." He slid the letter closer to her as if to make a point.

"Ah, I'm still getting used to receiving letters like this..." She felt slightly embarrassed but brushed it off, she closed the book carefully and placed it aside before picking up the letter. Eris had made his way around her table and was leaning against it by her side, watching her every move.

"Hello, fellow High Lady! I was hoping we could spend some girl's time together, perhaps while our males discuss some court business, let them handle all the work for a while, now that we are allies, they ought to be friends too. So, what do you say? We could meet here in Winter and I could show you the wonders we have, or, you could show me what Autumn has been hiding all these years, Kal and I have always wanted to visit Autumn, the few hours we get to spend there for the meetings do not do it justice, that I'm sure of.

Eagerly waiting for your response,

Your fellow High Lady, Viviane."

"Viviane is asking if I want to spend some 'girl's time' with her," she giggled, "And I think Kallias finally crowned her High Lady." She showed Eris the letter, pointing to the first and last phrases.

"About time," Eris uttered, "Was starting to think he didn't have it in him."

"Eris." She gave him a pointed look. Sometimes his old self would come up, a natural response, they were both working on it.

"Habit, sorry." He smiled at her, faking innocence but quickly erupted into laughter, making her join him. It was so weird for him not having to insult someone at any opportunity encountered, that when he did, out of nowhere, it was funny.

"You're so stupid." She said, stomach cramping from how hard she was laughing.

"Darling, you marry this stupid, deal with it." Eris sighed, running a hand through his perfect hair trying to compose himself. "So, will you?"

"Yes, it's been way too long since I've had a girl's time." She started searching for some paper so she could write back to Viviane.

"Not to sound insecure or anything but... what exactly do you females do on your 'girl's time'?"

"Just girly things, males and our sex life, you know," she responded nonchalantly, "Last time I had one, one of my friends had even reenacted some scenes..." Eris' face at that moment was something she'd paid to see again. His eyes looked like they'd pop out of his head, his cheeks flushed redder than she'd ever seen before, his mouth was hanging open and he looked like a fish when he trying to talk.

"Relax, Eris! I'm just joking." She laughed, her belly protesting. She saw through watery eyes the moment Eris regained his composure, his smirk gave her a hint that they had a long night ahead.

Two big hands pulled her body up, making her squeal and laugh even harder. Eris picked her up and turned them both so he was now sitting on her chair, his lips kissed her neck while his hands found the ticklish spots around her body.

"You think you can fuck with me and not be punished for it, little witch?" His voice was rough with lust, her laughter died down and turned into soft moans.

"Careful, I might reenact what you'll do next with Viviane..." A hand smacked her cheek, the warm feeling of the scalding fire that ran through his veins made her shiver with goosebumps, the whisper of his slender fingers running up her spine only making her tremble harder. The effect Eris had on her was insane.

"Don't you dare. Not the time to play, love." He bit her shoulder. She nodded, knowing Eris wouldn't actually be mad at her for misbehaving, but he would be stressed, and while he'd never act like his father, an stressed Eris was more sad than anything, and she hated that. He was done being used and beaten, the stress he endured all these centuries was enough to mess with his head so hard that now he could barely bear feeling stressed.

She nodded against his neck, kissing and nuzzling his shoulder. In response, he tugged her closer to him, his fingers finally working on the buttons of her dress, pulling apart and setting her down on her desk to take their clothes off.

When Eris was done unbuttoning his shirt, her hands found his muscular chest, pushing him back, signaling for him to sit. She quickly got down on her knees, Eris purposely slipped the fabric of her dress where her knees would meet the floor, making sure they wouldn't hurt so much. Her fingers worked on the strings of his trousers, when they slipped inside the waistband, Eris lifted his hips for her to slip them out, his briefs following suit, during their undressing, Eris had also taken his boots off.

Her hands danced around his torso and tights, lightly scratching his skin, her fingers followed his happy trail before touching his cock, squeezing him the way he liked while running her hand up and down. His warm fingers caressed her arms, encouraging her to keep the pace.

After he was completely hard, she started licking his tip, running her tongue against the underside, slowly going down and licking the whole expanse of his member. His quiet sights and humming making her skin tingle, leaning away from him she admired her artwork, the way his skin was redder in certain spots, his breath was ragged even with so little action, his eyelids almost fully closed and his hair the same messy hair she saw at home. His vulnerability came with a messy version of Eris that would make anyone question if it was really him, his usually perfect styled hair seemed to have never seen a hairbrush, his enviable posture sometimes slumpy.

"Don't stop..." He whined, his head lolled from one side to another.

Taking pity on him, she brought her mouth back down, taking as much of him as she could, bobbing her head slowly, taking him deeper everytime she went down until her nose was pressed against him.

"Gods... What did I do to deserve you?" Eris mumbled, when she looked up, his eyes were fully closed and his mouth had formed a pleased smile.

Eris wasn't really into blowjobs, at least not like the other males she knew, he'd never refuse it of course, but he wasn't one to ask for it. She never asked and Eris never said anything, but she had an inkling that it might have something to do with his father, the way he viewed and treated females, Eris was bound to have heard and, perhaps, seen some disgusting things.

Her mate's hand gently cradled her head, not moving her, just holding. His hips twitched every time her mouth fully enveloped him, she noticed how much effort he was putting into not thrusting up.

"You can fuck my mouth if you want." Her voice was raspy and breathless when she spoke, immediately going back to sucking on him, paying special attention to his tip. His eyebrows furrowed like he was in pain, mouth opened in a silent moan, the muscular thighs under her finger tensed. Suddenly Eris was pushing her head away and yanking her up into his lap.

"For someone who claims to hate teasing, you're doing it way too well, sweetheart." His hands slipped through her hair until he had a good hold of the back of her head, he pushed her closer to his mouth, just enough that she could touch him if she stuck her tongue out, when she tried to lean in for a kiss, he pulled at her hair. He laughed at her pout and gave a mocking peck to her bottom lip, a mere brush that could never be called a kiss.

"You're mean, you know that?" She pushed at his chest, not exactly trying to push him away, all her strength went to keeping her smile at bay.

"But my love... someone needs to take that seriousness off your pretty face."

"You just say that because you can't be serious around me, I smell envy..." She sniffled jokingly, the only scent that filled her nose was arousal, the musk smell of Eris and the slick coating her thighs.

Eris giggled, throwing his head back, one of his hands left her waist to rest at his abdomen, his body convulsing with soft laughter. None of the males she met before laughed like that, in fact, she wasn't sure if they ever truly laughed. Eris, despite his upbringing, knew how to have a good laugh.

"Oh Gods... I couldn't have asked for a better mate." His head was still thrown back, if the sight of his body slumped in her chair didn't say anything, his relaxed smile sure did. "Kiss me." The hand that remained on her waist ran up to her cheek, "Kiss me." He repeated, bringing her head closer. "Drown me with the taste of you." Their tongues danced. "Make me forget how to breathe without your hands on me." Her hips lifted enough to take him inside her warm cunt, the feeling making them both groan. "My body is yours, my soul is yours, my heart is yours, take my mind too. My every thought is yours, everything I think is formulated with your face in my mind, everything I plan is thinking of you and us, our future, our family..."

Their heartbeats synchronized, their mouths dancing, the rhythm of her hips rocking their bodies, their chests collided with rapid breaths, hands here and there squeezing and feeling. "Eris–"

"Yes! Yes, yes, please!" His hands went back to her hips, helping her bounce on top of him, her head dropped to his shoulder, nodding.

Eris gasped, as pleasure threatened to push him off the edge, he braced an arm on her waist and lifted himself off her chair, his unoccupied hand pushed the paper off the desk, he'll help reorganize them later. Feeling the kisses she planted on his neck, combined with her sigh of pleasure when he slipped her down his cock, almost made his knees buckle.

He set her down onto the desk, curving an arm under her head, giving her time to adjust to the new position before he started to thrust, his forehead resting on hers, their breaths fanning each others faces.

Her hands ran the whole expanse of Eris' back, encouraging him to thrust into her, each snap of his hip against hers threatening to push her off the desk, the arm he slung under her head being the only thing keeping her from doing so. The intensity of having sex with Eris never failed to amaze her, she wasn't sure if it was because he was her mate, or if it was really just in his nature to be intense, probably both. Due his accidental edging, Eris already felt close to cuming, the fact that she kept squeezing him didn't help, he was sure she was doing it on purpose, brat, he really taught her well. He couldn't stop his hips from stuttering so he just stopped, resting his cock fully inside her, his head dropping to her chest to suck on her perky nipples, trying to pretend it was all in purpose, unfortunately for him, it didn't foul her. Her soft giggles filled his ears, both her hands moving to his head, running her fingers through his wild red hair.

"Have I already told you I love your messy hair?"

Eris pulled back from her breast to look at her, a expressionof shock on his face before a breath burst out of him, "My hair is not messy, love." He answered while giggling, thinking she was joking. She only rolled her eyes in response, moving her hips against his, Eris' mouth feel open, his eyes slammed shut.

"Close already?" She smiled up at him, knowing too well the effect she had on him. Her legs moved so she had a firm grip of him, now being able to move her hips better, squeezing his cock whenever he was pushed deep inside her.

"Keep doing that–" His words were cut off by a groan, "And I'll cum before you." Eris' whole body trembled.

"It's okay." She pulled his head closer to hers, nuzzling his nose before initiating a kiss. She doubled her efforts to make him cum, moving her hips harder and faster, licking into his mouth like an starved female.

Eris groaned, his body tensed, his knees buckled, his arms gave up and he fell fully against her, she could feel his thighs shaking and a hot liquid filling her cunt. She felt every spurt of cum, his cock throbbing, the way that even when he was finished he was still hard. As soon as he regained control of his legs, he trusted slowly into her, pushing his cum as deep as he could.

When he came down from his high, Eris pulled back from her mouth, not once had she stopped kissing him, his eyes roamed through her beautiful body, his hands squeezing her breasts and stomach, sliding down until his thumb met her clit, rubbing lazy circles on her, just enough to feel good.

Eris slid his cock off of her slowly, catching the small spurt of cum that came out and pushing it back inside her. After meeting her gaze one last time, he fell to his knees, his mouth placing gentle kisses and nibbles on her plump thighs.

His nose brushed her clit, their scents mingled together filled his nose, his tongue licked her slit like the starved male he was, slurping his own release mixed with her wetness. Her moans drew him insane, she was a quiet female so to know she made those beautiful noises because of him, was maddening. Her hands brushed his hair out of his face, careful fingers touching his pointed ear, making it twitch involuntarily. She felt more than heard her mate's groan, the vibration directly on her clit pushed her off the edge she didn't even know she was treading. Eris didn't stop, the pleasure building up inside her as if she never reached her release at all. His slender fingers pushing through her throbbing slit, curling into a spot inside her that made her see stars, after years of experience, Eris could definitely bring her orgasm after orgasm if he wanted to, and that's what he did. Pushing his fingers as deep as they'd go and pulling them out before she could slip off again, he played with her until he was sure she was too deep in pleasure to hold it back.

When he was done, she could barely feel her own body, still tingling with pleasure and her mind too fogged up. She felt warmth and his scent enveloped her, her cheek pressed into something hard, his heartbeat helped bring her back to herself. Eris' hand brushed her locks behind her ear, caressing her hair mindlessly, he planted kisses where he could reach, head, forehead, eyes, nose, until she stared back at him, eyes still shining as she smiled.

"That was good." She said, voice barely a whisper. Eris hummed in response, smiling back.

He helped her into his shirt, knowing she was too sensitive to wear her dress again. After that they went back to their chambers, still holding one another as they went. All the servants had gone to bed by now, so no one saw their half dressed High Lord and Lady walking through the corridors.

"Are you too tired for a bath?" Eris asked agaisnt her neck, never one to stay away from his mate. "Hungry? I can go make us something." He brushed her jawline with his nose, arms tightly holding her against him.

"Not too tired, and kind of hungry but I'd rather have you here with me." She answered with her eyes closed, bathing in the affection he poured on her.

"I'll draw us a bath, and then we'll go eat something." It was natural for them, so many times had Eris gone to visit her in the middle of the night with an empty stomach, right after finishing all of his work for the day. It only got worse when he became High Lord, so many things to be fixed that the only moment they got to themselves was at night, when Prythian was asleep.

Taglist: @callsigns-haze , @lilah-asteria , @mybestfriendmademe , @coldmermaidhologram , @rcarbo1 , @andreperez11 , @st4r-girl-official , @tenshis-cake , @pirana10 , @esposadomd lmk if you want to be added/removed

A/n²: I accidentally wrote "you can duck my mouth if you want"... and when I read it midway through the smut it was... cringe, I stopped writing. had to go feed the ducks

#eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #eris smut #eris vanserra smut #acotar smut #acotar #eris acotar #eris fanfic #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra

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ceoofyearning · 2 months

Text

half algorithm, half deity - (Mafia AU) Eris Vanserra

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Fem!Reader (Rhysand’s Sibling)

Summary: You try to date other people, but in truth you’ve only ever wanted Eris Vanserra.

Tags/Warnings:

Explicit (18+, MINORS DNI), SMUT with plot, Angst, Modern Mafia AU, Established FWB, Mentions of past Tamlin x Reader (brief), Mentions canon typical violence, Mentions of minor character death (Rhysand’s mom and other sister)

Alcohol, Oral (M & F receiving), Rough but make it tender & loving too, Hair pulling, P in V, Overstim if you squint (please lmkif i missed anything)

Word Count: 6.5k

Links: Masterlist | My Art

Despite your father’s best efforts, you didn’t inherit your family’s propensity for violence.

You drink your wine and remind yourself of that fact for the umpteenth time tonight. But if this male gives you another backhanded compliment or, Mother forbid, another unsolicited criticism, you might reconsider that fact. Rhys had made sure you knew how to gut a man in just three moves and you remember each precise stroke as effortlessly as a breath.

To dissuade yourself from such thoughts, you take another generous gulp of wine - your only saving grace as you listen to him drone on and on about his most recent business acquisition. For the past forty-five minutes, the man has managed to recount his entire genealogy, his academic history and recited what felt like an itemized list of all his professional accomplishments. This is supposed to be a date, you’re tempted to remind him, not a chance to whip out his dick and measure it.

He has yet to ask you anything about yourself, of course, entirely preoccupied with stroking his damn ego. You’ve stopped trying after the fifth cycle of appropriately timed ‘ooh’s and ‘ahh’s, seeing he doesn’t seem to need you to continue his tirade. Your pointed glares and longing glances at your wristwatch remain unnoticed too. The number of drinks you’ve had seems to be an entirely different story, however.

"You know, you should really slow down," he remarks, his sardonic smirk exposing a set of eerily straight white teeth.

“And why is that, exactly?” You ask before taking another long sip of wine with deliberate slowness. His jaw clenches ever so slightly, his smile little more than a collection of clenched teeth.

“You wouldn’t want to be too drunk for later.” He makes a show of raking his beady eyes over your form. The predatory glint in his eye makes your skin crawl and your hackles raise in equal measure.

“Bold of you to assume there would be a later,” you drawl, your eyes narrowing into slits, nostrils flaring in silent outrage.

“Oh, there will,” he declares with an impressive amount of unearned confidence. “How else are you going to pay me back for this meal, sweetheart?” He says it as though it’s a given, like your body is something he’s owed for this paltry display. Fuck, if you don’t leave now, you’re sure you’ll end this night behind bars, probably charged with manslaughter. Rhys would get you out of it, of course, but he’d be incredibly smug about it and you couldn’t have that.

The man makes another show of tracing his slimy gaze over your body, making a pleased sound in the back of his throat. “I must say, I wasn’t a big fan of the dress - too revealing to be classy, in my opinion - but I suppose it wouldn’t matter when it’s on the floor of my penthouse.”

You admit that you don’t try very hard to hold back a gag. Without even dignifying him with a response, you hail the waiter and gesture for the bill in the hopes that the expression on your face is enough to convey the urgency you feel. To her credit, it only takes her a minute to rush to the table in all black and white salvation, the bill in hand.

With haste, you pull out the cash from your wallet and slam it down the table. It should be enough to cover everything, even the tip. You give the man one last scathing glare before you rise from the table. A fish out of water - that’s what he looks like, wide-eyed with his mouth opening and closing, probably on the cusp of claiming to everyone in the room that you’re crazy, that you’re overreacting.

Before he can do any of that you pivot sharply towards the exit, ignoring the man’s indignant sputtering. Your feet protest beneath you, your new stilettos digging painfully into your skin with every step. Only when you’re five blocks away from the restaurant do you let yourself slow to a stop. You press the heels of your palms into your eyes, undoubtedly ruining the makeup you spent such a long time putting on earlier that night.

Suddenly, the dress you felt so confident in now feels suffocating. The fabric clings to your skin fat too tightly, constricting your every movement. The silken garment you had thought to fit you like a glove now surrounded you like a cage. You tug at the neckline, trying to find some relief, but the discomfort only intensifies.

Frustration bubbles in your gut as you collapse onto the nearest bench to catch your breath. You feel so stupid. Although you don’t want to admit it, you’ve been looking forward to a nice night out after an entire week of slogging through work. Instead, you ended up sacrificing what little free time you have to satisfy some asshole’s vanity.

The city continues in indifferent chaos around you. The fluorescent streetlights overhead and the headlights of passing cars slice through the night. People bustle past, absorbed in their own lives, oblivious to your existence. At this moment, you’ve never felt more alone.

Seeing Feyre and Rhys fall in love has been an eye-opening experience. You’ve watched them gradually find happiness in each other, watched them build a life together. There’s also Nes and Cass, Viv and Kal - all so utterly content, so in painfully love. It is a relief to know that love is possible despite the kind of lives you live. After what happened - your gun slotted in between those bright forest eyes, finger frozen at the trigger; the stumbling string of sorries, of depthless regrets; white marble tiles stained crimson by blood - happiness hadn’t seemed like a possibility. All you’ve had since then are inconsequential flings and ill-conceived dalliances, nothing that could lead to anything more.

It’s difficult to admit that you want something more.

But since you’ve started seeing other people, it’s only been a series of disappointments one after the other. What made basic empathy and human decency such a scarce resource these days? In all honesty, you’re starting to lose hope, starting to think that maybe that love just isn’t in the cards for you.

You cared for Tamlin in your own foolish, fumbling way. He was solid ground, he was stubborn certainty. He clung to control so tightly that his nails left angry red indents on his palm. In many ways, you were his antithesis, his unmaking. He tried to be good but the both of you hadn’t been good for each other. Perhaps the two of you had been too lonely, too stubborn, too fucking young to realize not all forms of love were healthy.

Eris Vanserra is an entirely different matter. He came to you as a flicker of flame in the darkest night. He was a breath of fresh air - a lungful of ember and possibility - setting you alight from the inside out. More importantly, Eris understands you the same way one side of a coin knows the other. That, however, didn’t mean you could be together.

Perhaps in some ways, knowing made the longing worse.

Your hand clenches around air, around the vestige of a memory you can’t seem to let go of. Your fingers itch to dial the same set of numbers you’ve deleted from your phone time and time again. You remember it anyway, though. Your mind has faithfully cataloged every memory of him - silky red hair brushing against your cheek, amber eyes crinkling in mischievous delight, arms wrapping around your body, making you feel safe for the first time in your life.

Your body moves before your better judgment can catch up. Before you know it, the familiar set of numbers is staring accusingly at you from your phone screen. Droning rings of an outgoing call pierce the silence. On the third one, Eris picks up.

“Firefly.” That word. You can hear the amusement in his tone. You refuse to acknowledge the hint of relief you sense there too, the note of near manic joy. It’s been months since you’ve last seen each other, since you told him that you needed something more - more than stolen moments, more than simply falling in and out of each other's beds only to be nothing but mere strangers come morning.

You say nothing, trapping unsaid words behind teeth clenched so tightly it’s a wonder you don’t break your jaw.

“Cat got your tongue?” Eris laughs, smooth, sensual, and utterly addicting. The sound sends a shiver down your spine. You fight the sudden urge to feel his lips shape the words with your own, to feel the vibrations of his laughter with the tips of your fingers.

“Tell me where you are,” he tries again. You can hear him lean back on his office chair, undoubtedly working late yet again. To anyone else, he would’ve sounded perfectly calm.

“I don’t know,” you sniff, fighting back the traitorous tears. “I’m near the Moonstone Palace.” It’s the overpriced restaurant you had been in earlier, the reason you’re going to have to struggle with rent this month. You could always ask Rhys, but you’ve long since divorced yourself from your family’s wealth.

Eris exhales, and you hear a suspicious amount of rummaging in the background. “Could you send your location to me?” He suggests, and you can make out the faint sound of a door opening and closing.

“Okay.” It comes out as a resigned sigh.

Before he hangs up, he makes sure, “Are you safe?”

“I am.”

“Give me fifteen minutes.”

Eris arrives in ten.

You’re slumped on the bench, clutching your purse to your chest as the frigid night air rushes past you. In your haste, you completely forgot to retrieve your coat before rushing out of the restaurant. But then, the low growl of an engine captures your attention. You turn to find a sleek black Benz gliding into view before coming to a halt right in front of you.

The window rolls down to reveal Eris’s smug face, familiar and foreign all at once. His bright fiery locks, longer now, have been tamed into a braid behind his back. Loose strands frame his sharp features, highlighting the severity of his beauty. He looks paler than usual, freckles now barely visible across his cheeks.

Eris grins, voice laced with far too much delight. “Didn’t I tell you, Love? You wouldn’t be able to stay away.”

Your nostrils flare involuntarily, equal parts irritation and wry amusement warring in you. When he notices the redness of your eyes, however, his smile banks. The only reason you can tell he’s worried is because you’ve spent an inordinate amount of time learning his tells, mapping the meaning behind the slivers of genuine emotion that sometimes slip through his carefully constructed mask. You’ve got it down to a science, interpreting him the same way astronomers find reason in the depths of the cosmos.

Without another sly remark, he steps out of the car and slips out of his coat as he strides toward you. When he moves to wrap the garment around your body, you try to protest. “That won’t be necessary.”

“You’re freezing,” he insists before dropping the surprisingly heavy coat over your shoulders. The effect is immediate. Eris is a walking furnace most days and traces of his heat still linger on the cloth, thawing the ice that has gathered beneath your skin.

You groan in relief despite yourself, finally acquiescing and pulling his coat tighter around you. Eris smirks, and you shoot him a perfunctory glare in response. Thankfully, though, he doesn’t comment on the way you bury your face in the upturned lapels, inhaling a lungful of his cinnamon and woodsmoke scent.

“Fun night?” He asks once you’ve plopped down the passenger seat.

“Obviously,” you reply, words thick with sarcasm. “I had the time of my life, really. Nothing like a date with another entitled, self-involved trust fund asswipe to liven up my Saturday night.” Eris looks entirely too pleased with this information.

He shrugs. “Your dates can’t compare?” He shoots you a knowing look. You resent the implication, but can’t entirely deny it either.

The truth of the matter is that you’ve never truly gotten over Eris. As brief as your explosive affairs may have been, the male has found a way to burrow beneath skin, to etch himself onto the surface of your mind. There is no washing him off you. In these last few months, all you’ve done is find fragments of him in faceless men.

“Can’t compare to your arrogance, maybe,” you retort a beat too late.

“Oh Firefly, you know you love it,” the smug bastard shoots back smoothly.

“You think you know me so well,” you grumble, crossing your arms defensively.

“Well enough.” Eris’s smile widens, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “Well enough to know those men you’ve found aren’t worth your time.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the fact that he is at least vaguely aware of your failed attempts at dating. Embarrassment coils in your gut, betrayed only by the steadily rising flush of your cheeks. “Maybe one day I’ll find someone who doesn’t make me want to scream.”

“Maybe,” he agrees, a hint of mischief lingering in his eyes. “But where’s the fun in that?” He leans toward you, face hovering over yours. The intensity of his gaze feels dangerous, almost like a threat, a promise that he could easily tear down all your walls if he pleased. Memories flash - of him devouring your mouth with his own, of bare bodies intertwined on soiled sheets, of him greedily drinking in each moan from your mouth as you clench tightly around his length - playing on torturous repeat in your mind.

“You’re insufferable, you know that?” Your breaths come short, voice trembling. Eris’s smile widens, canines glinting beneath the warm light - a well-honed predator to and through.

Eris chuckles. “And yet, here you are.”

You sincerely can’t tell whether you want to clock him in the jaw or pull him down for a kiss. But then, in a rare show of mercy, Eris withdraws. He simply pulls your seatbelt down and fastens it beside you before turning back to the wheel. You release a breath you don’t realize you are holding.

The engine roars beneath you and Eris begins to maneuver the car back onto the highway. You slump further down in your seat, only to have several objects dig into your ribs. You jolt up, patting down his coat for the offending items. In your search, you produce a stiletto hidden in the inner lining and a Glock 19 in one pocket.

“Really?” You quirk your brow at him as you drop another knife on the car floor.

Amber eyes dart towards you for the briefest second, a ghost of a smirk on his lips, before turning his gaze back to the road. You don’t doubt Eris has more hidden on his person, maybe even in this car.

“Can’t be too careful,” he replies with a shrug, his hand flexing on the wheel. You follow the movement with rapt attention, transfixed by the rhythmic contractions of the muscles beneath, by the faint blue of the veins that run in webs up his forearm.

Eris, the bastard, catches your preoccupation with his body. Of course, he does.

His smirk widens into a full grin, his eyes glinting with amusement. "Enjoying the view?"

You snap your gaze back to his face, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. "Keep your eyes on the road," you remind him, stalling, trying to regain your composure. “Perhaps you should put up a show for me, and I’ll decide then.”

Eris chuckles at the challenge, a deep, resonant sound that never fails to send shivers down your spine.

The rest of the drive to your apartment is spent in comfortable silence, Eris content to leave you in your corner, brooding and bundled up in his coat. You lean your head on the window, letting your thoughts drift by at the same pace the scenery slips away from view. You don’t realize you’ve dozed off until you feel Eris tucking strands of your hair behind your ear.

“We’re here.”

Your eyes flutter open, reality reluctantly coalescing into focus in front of you. There's an amused expression on the redhead's face as he watches you wake. A part of you is tempted to curl back into a ball, content to pretend at peace just a little longer. Eris has no such qualms, however. He undoes your seatbelt and tugs you out of the vehicle. His arms remain loosely wrapped around your waist, though, even as he closes the door to the passenger seat.

“I should go.” He is so close his hot breath brushes against your cheek, the scent of mint permeating the air between you.

“You should.”

But none of you move to part. Your hands remain tightly fisted on his otherwise pristine shirt, while his arms create a cage around you, his body pressing you against the cool metal of the car.

“Why did you call?” Eris asks instead. His cheek rests on your temple, his nose buried in your hair like he can’t quite help but gravitate towards you. Your grip on him tightens the same way the sun pulls celestial bodies into its orbit, completely, inevitably.

“You know why.”

“Tell me anyway.” He pulls back just enough to look straight into your eyes, molten amber burning into you.

“I want you.” You confess. I’ve only ever wanted you, your mind further supplies. His gaze is searching, as if scouring for all the ways he can turn over your words in his head if the new angles would reveal some hidden meaning.

“I want to forget.” You continue, tugging him down by the collar. He follows willingly and rests his forehead on yours. Lips hover over your own, breaths mingling in the scant space between you. His mask turns translucent. Joy, pain, and regret flash in quick succession across his face before you can even parse their meaning.

“As do I, Love.”

The moment you step into your apartment, all traces of tenderness dissipate.

Eris has you trapped between the wall and the firm line of his lithe body. He easily towers over you. With one thigh wrapped around his slim waist, only his firm grip on your hips and his thigh slotted between your parted legs keep you upright. Your remaining leg stands precariously on the tips of your toes, teetering dangerously in whichever current Eris pulls you in.

His mouth is latched onto your neck, leaving blooms of red in his wake. You should tell him to stop, tell him not to leave any visible marks. But all words and reason are lost to you when his teeth scrape against the sensitive skin in time with a particularly well-timed roll of his hips.

“Eris!” You keen, clawing at his back in a vain attempt to find purchase. But there is no safe harbor to be found, not here. Eris is a force of nature. He is the living embodiment of wildfire, burning brightly, holding you so firmly, that it’s as though he intends to fuse your bodies together.

“What is it, Firefly?” He whispers the words against your ear, right before he catches your lobe in between his teeth. You can feel his lips curl against your skin. “What does my pretty girl want?”

“You.” It comes out as a demand, a desperate plea.

“Use your words, love.” His movements settle into a languid pace, excruciatingly slow, pulling a whine from your throat. His single hand encompasses your entire jaw. Pads of his fingers press against the joint, his grip firm but gentle. Eris turns your face so you’re looking straight into his burning eyes. “Let’s try again, shall we? Tell me, how do you want me?”

“I need your cock in my mouth,” you whisper your want against his lips, confessions you’d never be able to make in the light of day. Amber eyes roll back at the image your words evoke. Eris forces his eyelids shut as you continue to speak. “Then, I want to feel you inside me, fuck me into the mattress, until your name is the only word in my mind, until I can feel you for days after.”

“Firefly.” With his face in the crook of your neck, he groans like you’re torturing him. You allow him a few short moments to gather himself - heavy heated breaths blown onto your nape - before tugging him by the hair insistently. His braid comes loose and a river of red falls in delicate curls over his freckled shoulders. Eris is an entirely different person when his head snaps up to meet your gaze.

“On your knees.”

Electricity crackles through the air between you at the sheer command in his voice. Obediently, you sink to his feet, gazing up at him with wide hungry eyes. To his credit, Eris’s expression remains impassive, his ardor betrayed only by the tension in his jaw and the glint in his eyes. With his thumb, he presses down on your bottom lip.

“Suck.”

Your mouth parts to welcome him, until you feel the cool press of his signet against your lips, a welcome contrast. You swirl your tongue around the digit, bobbing your head for a few beats. Eris clenches his jaw, the pad of his thumb lightly digging onto your tongue as he pulls it out. You release it with a pop of your lips.

“Good.”

Eris tilts his head, a silent permission to continue. While you gradually slip off his belt and undo the zip of his trousers, Eris gathers your hair in his fist. With a single push, his impressive length is revealed to you, long and heavy. Anticipation sparks in your chest, eager to feel his weight on your tongue.

“Go on then.”

So you do. You flatten your tongue against the base of his cock, licking a stripe to the tip. There, you take the head into the wet heat of your mouth and suck. Eris makes an involuntary thrust, despite the tight leash he normally keeps around himself.

“Fuckin’ Hel,” he groans, grip now deliciously digging into your scalp. You moan your appreciation against him, and the male shudders in response. For a few moments, you simply alternate between lazily bobbing your head and swirling your tongue against him as best you can. Your hand twists in tandem to accommodate the remaining length of him.

“You’re a damned tease,” he accuses. “A demon.”

With wide eyes, you blink innocently up at him from beneath your lashes. Eris scoffs, rolling his eyes, but allows the torturous cycle to continue. When you sense his movements grow more erratic, his muscles tensing beneath your palms, you slow your movements just in time to deny him his release. At the third time of doing this, Eris looks close to breaking.

“Enough.” He growls, the command reverberating through the silent room, through every fiber of your being.

You still immediately, the intensity in his voice sending a thrill through you. He adjusts his grip on your hair, winding the strands around his knuckles and tugging lightly as if to test his grip. You groan at the bite of pain, your arousal dripping from you.

“I’m gonna fuck your pretty face now, Firefly.” He whispers with such disorienting tenderness. “Tap my thigh twice if it becomes too much, understand?”

“Yes.” Your too-eager reply draws a lopsided smile from Eris’s otherwise stoic demeanor. “Please,” you add as an afterthought as you brace your hands against his thighs.

Eris tilts his head once more, and you take that as your signal to proceed. Your lips wrap around him, cheeks hollowing out, tongue curved around his length. His thrusts begin tentatively, but it doesn’t take long for him to find his rhythm. The head of his cock hits the back of your throat with each thrust, his firm grip on your hair directing each movement. You will yourself to relax, angling yourself to take him better, deeper. For a while, all your thoughts evaporate, your entire focus simply on breathing through your nose and watching the look of ecstasy unfold across his face.

“You feel amazing around me.” Eris pants as he pushes impossibly deeper. You struggle to take him, throat spasming around him. “My good girl,” he coos, his thrusts stuttering. You groan against him when one stroke allows him to bottom out completely. Nose nuzzling the thin line of red on his lower stomach, tears bloom in your eyes. You look up, only to find him already gazing at you. His amber eyes were wide with want, transfixed at the sight of you taking him completely.

“I’m about to come, Love. You’ll be a good girl and take it, won’t you?” A drawn out mhm is all the permission he needs. “Every. Last. Drop.” Each word is punctuated by a thrust.

Then, on his final advance, Eris holds you there by the head until the very last moment, until the fire in your veins has spread into each lobe of your lungs. When you swallow around him, he chokes, rolling his hips into your mouth. Your fingers curl into claws against his thighs but you don’t tap out. He moves once, twice, then he’s gone. Eris allows you a bit of reprieve by retreating into your mouth as his length pulses the rest of his release onto your tongue.

“Fuck.” He rasps. Then, with a single tug, he pulls you off of him and onto your two wobbly legs. Eris only gives you a few seconds to catch your breath before his mouth crashes against yours for a kiss. He groans as he tastes himself on your tongue.

“So perfect for me, made to take me.” His hands roam your body as though eager to discover every square inch of exposed skin. This is Eris in his rawest form, you realize, all control turned into liquid flame in his hands. He practically tears your dress from your body, pushing down the silk until it pools on the floor.

“Yesss,” you hiss, clawing at his shirt and shoving it off his broad shoulders. “Only you.” Heavy thunks follow soon after - the gun holstered at his side, the knife strapped to his thigh.

“I fucking love you.” He growls in between breaths. Without giving you a chance to reply, he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, nipping at the raw flesh.

You don’t even realize he’s corralled you into your room before he pushes you onto the bed. He pulls you to the edge by the ankle. Eris stands tall before you, rendered in sharp angles and steady lines, softened only by the warmth in his amber eyes. Then, slowly, he kneels between your parted thighs like a supplicant before their God and your body is the only conduit of worship he knows.

“You okay?” He asks this while his head is pillowed on your thigh, as though he hadn’t just blown your mind. Eris, you’ve discovered, is a collection of contrasts - rough one second, and painfully tender the next. No amount of studying him could let you predict the direction of his passion. You don’t mind, though, you’d happily be carried away in his current.

“Perfectly.”

“You remember your word?” He removes your stilettos, brushing over the raw skin where the straps have dug in.

“I do.”

“Say it for me.” He lines your heels neatly at the foot of your bed.

“Ember.”

“Good.” Eris begins his meandering path up your legs. A kiss on your ankle, lips ghosting over your leg. Once his lips reach your thighs, he starts to nibble and suck on your skin. The simple declaration of possession shouldn’t please you as much as it does, but it only deepens the pool of desire and anticipation in your gut.

“Eris,” you whine, breathless, as he pauses at the seam of your thigh. His smirk only grows at your increasingly desperate pleas and the erratic movements of your hips.

“Use your words, Firefly.” Eris reminds you beatifically. “Tell me what you want.”

“Your mouth,” you begin, already struggling to form a coherent string of words. “Please?”

“My mouth?” He asks, pretending to consider it. “But I thought you said you wanted my cock?”

His taunting jolts you out of your reverie, always rearing to meet his fire with your own. You come up to your elbows to level him a raised brow. “Well, you’re already on your knees, aren’t you?” Despite knowing you’ll pay for your words later, you try to inject as much bravado into your voice as you can. The effect is dulled by your obvious desperation though.

Eris chuckles, shaking his head as if in disapproval. “What to try that again, Firefly?” He blows a hot breath towards your core, the sudden sensation sending a jolt of electricity down your spine. “I’m sure you can do better than that.”

You clench your teeth, a vain attempt to keep the pleas trapped within your mouth. Eris remains steadfast, of course, staring you down with obvious amusement. His lips travel a languid path, teeth teasing, mouth nipping, veering closer and closer but never close enough. This is a battle you’ve already lost from the start.

“Please?” You grit out. “Can I please have your mouth?”

“You’re a greedy little thing aren’t you?” Eris laps at the marks he’s left, just a few millimeters from where you want him to be. Practically vibrating with need, you dangle on the sharp edge of anticipation. The bite Eris plants on the soft flesh of your thigh is what pushes you off the precipice.

“Please,” you plead, each syllable dripping with need. “Can I please have your mouth?”

“Well, since you asked so prettily,” Eris drawls, entirely indulgent. He places your leg over his shoulder and dives in. First, he runs the flat of his tongue over your flimsy thong, lapping at your slit. You shudder at the sensation, melting against the sheets as he continues.

“You taste divine.” He growls, the vibrations making you tighten around nothing. Then, closes his mouth over your slit and begins to suck. You throw your head back, heel digging into his back, hips arching towards the pull of his mouth. Your arousal seeps into the cloth. A heartbeat, a fraction of eternity, then Eris licks the lace greedily like a man starved.

“I can’t get enough of you.” He mouths against the fabric. You feel the truth of his words as surely as the growing flame in your gut. Then, he slides your undergarments down one thigh, keeping it wrapped around the other, a mockery of a wedding garter. Finally, his lips close around your clit as he slides one long finger in you, then two, scissoring them inside. You release a choked sob. His fingers are much thicker than your own, but the stretch is a burn you’ve been craving for far too long.

“Fuck, Firefly, you’re so damn tight.” He murmurs against your skin. He begins thrusting his fingers in and out of you, making it a point to curl his digits in just the right spot. The precision of his movements is enough to drive you out of your mind. Eris shifts between murmuring sweet nothings against your heated skin and drawing precise circles around your clit.

At some point, Eris’s free hand finds yours, intertwining your fingers with his own. It doesn’t take long for you to climb that familiar high. Hurtling over the edge so fast, you don’t even realize you’re cumming until you’re overtaken by a wave of pleasure. It saturates your senses until the only thing that makes sense is Eris, Eris, Eris.

He doesn’t stop. His fingers hit that torturous angle, while his tongue laps at your bud. “One more,” he demands and you whine in protest. “Just one more, Love.”

“‘S too much-“ you try to say, but your words crack into a sob. “I c-can’t-“

“You can,” he coos. “My good girl, my lovely little Firefly.” The praise does more for you than his hands could. “Always so perfect for me.”

Desire is a living thing inside you, an inferno building beneath your skin. You crush his fingers in your grip, while the other threads itself through his silken locks, needing something to anchor you unspool for him.

“Eris, I’m-“ your voice cracks, reality blurring around you as you spasm around him, hips gyrating, driven only by pure primal instinct. He groans, as though your pleasure is as good as his own. His fingers speed up, his tongue licking your bud to and fro with dangerous precision.

“Cum for me, Firefly.”

You do. You break into flames with his name on your lips, back bowing, eyes trained to the unseen sky. You barely even register when Eris climbs into bed with you, too preoccupied with reacquainting yourself with your body. Only when he pulls your pliant form over his chest do you meet his gaze.

“Are you alright?” There is concern in his gaze, and you wipe the worry from his face as you run your knuckles over his cheek.

“Perfectly.” An invisible tug calls you to dip your head and taste yourself on his lips. Eris licks the seam of your mouth and waits patiently until your lips part for him.

Without breaking contact, you wrap your hand around his girth and begin stroking him to full hardness. Your tongues meet, and you relish the trace of your taste in his mouth. Once his cock is ready, you line him up with your entrance.

You lower yourself onto him, slowly, inch by inch, until you’re fully on his lap. For a moment, you simply stay like that, with him seated deep within you, lips locked in a languid ebb and flow. When you begin to move, you do it together, rising and falling in question and answer to the other. You wonder if there will always be this constant compulsion to have Eris near, the need to feel his skin against yours, to feel his beating heart thump in step with your own. Somehow, against all reason, he’s managed to worm his way into your life, to make a home for himself within the chambers of your heart.

Eris becomes the ruined wreckage of a man as you slide off him up until only the tip remains, before slamming back down. Eris keeps his gaze on you as though he’d rather die than miss a single moment of this. He groans, meeting each and every single one of your movements. His one hand grips your hip, guiding and grinding, fingers digging into you. The other cups your breast, his thumb tracing over your nipple. When your thighs begin to ache, legs quaking, powered only by desire and desperation, Eris easily flips you over.

“Harder,” you choke out, “deeper.”

“So demanding,” Eris teases but seems happy enough to comply. He places a pillow beneath your hips. You almost whine at the pause, but Eris doesn’t give you a chance. He begins with an unforgiving pace, pistoning in and out of you with abandon. The new angle is torture specifically designed to tear your remaining sanity into shreds. Your legs lock around his waist, hands clasped tightly with his own. His lips hover over yours, drinking in each whimper, each moan, like it's ambrosia and you’re the sole source.

“Are you about to cum for me, Love?” Eris breathes. And you nod frantically.

“Tell me, Firefly, who’s making you feel good, hm?” He punctuates the sentence with a hard thrust that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

“You are,” you rasp, convulsing around him as his cock nudges the perfect spot inside of you.

“My name,” he demands.

“Eris.” It comes out as drawn out moan, a plea, a promise.

“And who do you belong to?” The force of each slam has you seeing sparks, and when he begins to circle your clit with his thumb? You’re gone, utterly defeated and consumed by the flame.

“You!” You scream, repeating his name over and over and over.

“That’s right,” he purrs. Your thighs shake, back arching completely off the mattress. The world breaks apart around you, reality melting into a flash of blinding light. He slows down and fucks you through the throes of rapture, extending seconds into eons while you flutter around him. With one last grind of his hips, you feel his cock throb as he spills deep inside you.

Eris collapses on top of you, surrounding you in his scorching warmth. For a long while, only your shared breaths exist in the silence. He nuzzles deeper into the crook of your neck, as though unable to help himself.

Eris doesn’t tell you he loves you again. He shouldn’t, for both of your sakes. But you feel it in the featherlight kisses he leaves over your shoulder, his gentle touch as he traces each curve, line, and ridge of your body. He does it with such ease, as though it’s an art he’s perfected through the years, through lifetimes.

Instinctively, you begin to run your hands over his back, fingers running over the lattice of faded scars there. Anger is a flaming arrow through your chest. Beron is not an easy father to have. Eris, as the prospective heir to his empire, receives the brunt of his brutal scrutiny. What you’d give to have the opportunity to tear that old bastard’s head from his shoulders.

As if sensing your sudden agitation, Eris’s roaming hands become more insistent, kneading away all the tension from your muscles. “Relax,” he whispers against your ear.

Although he rolls off of you, he doesn’t go far. Without letting you out of the cage of his arms, he curls beside you like a cat, each plane of your bodies perfectly aligned. With his head resting over your heart, a rumble of contentment escapes him.

It’s startling to think that to anyone outside of this room, Eris is a villain, as well-versed in savagery as his father. But you know him, seen parts of him the world would never know. You and Eris have always been two sides of the same coin.

He understands what it’s like to endure and inherit a father’s rage, to house a mother’s bottomless grief, to be saturated with so much shame it steals your every breath. The two of you are so different and yet are hewn from the same ore, forged from the same fire. Although there are a multitude of reasons why the both of you can’t be together, it feels as though Eris is the only one who's ever truly seen you as you are.

But self-denial is a circus act you and Eris perform with practiced ease. You’ve already fucked up before and it wasn’t you who ended up paying the price. No, it had been your mother and your sister. Their blood will stain your hands for the rest of your life.

You won’t make that same mistake again.

Two twined heartbeats, breaths released and taken in unison, Eris drifts off as your fingers card through his hair. You drink him in, long lashes fluttering as he flits into sleep, faint freckles like stars scattered over the ridge of his nose, and his face, for once, open and devoid of that familiar mask. You map its planes with the tips of your fingers, cataloging each detail and etching them onto the back of your mind.

Eris will be gone come morning. He always is. The only proof of his presence would be the ache between your thighs and his scent still lingering on your sheets. But for now, though, he is yours, as fleeting as this moment may be.

This is enough, you tell yourself.

AN: hello this is my first smut fic in a while & this is a bit different from my usual thing so i was a bit nervous about posting this one. Let me know what you guys think!

Dialogue and banter aren’t my strong suit but i tried my best ;u;

This started as pwp fic but now there’s plot and I’m invested. I’ve got a few ideas and I kinda want to do a series of one-shots for these two.

English isn’t my first language. If you see any mistakes please let me know thru DM! Thank you 💙

#My fic #eris vandaddy #eris vanserra #eris x reader #queued because posting gives me sm anxiety #eris fanfic #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra x reader #acotar #acotar fanfic #eris smut #guys it’s messy

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daycourtofficial · 4 months

Text

One single thread of gold tied me to you

Pairing: Eris x Rhysand's sister!reader | WC: 6.2k | Warnings: smut, unprotected sex, piv, foodplay (chocolate), oral (f and m receiving)

Summary: After a century of waiting, Eris and his mate finally have a few days to themselves to accept the mating bond.

Author's note: this is technically part of my gingerfucker series but it can be read as a standalone. Big thanks to @basketoffish for help with plotting the idea for it and for helping me edit ❤️ The people have been frothing and yearning for this and who am I deny such want any longer?

Eris never had good timing. Born too soon, bearing the brunt of his father’s cruelties. Born into a war he was too young to fight in, but too old to stay at home.

All of his poor timing was worth it for this perfect opportunity. Beron would be away for three days and three nights to improve relations with Tarquin, the newest High Lord of the Summer Court. Beron went alone - he perceived it as much more intimidating to go alone (perhaps inspired by Tamlin’s appearance in the High Lord’s meeting a few years ago, winnowing in completely unaccompanied). Beron failed to recognize Tamlin’s appearance was much bolder - he knew he would face scrutiny, but still made an appearance without anyone at his side. Beron merely did it because he wanted to look more intimidating.

Nonetheless, Eris was able to send word to you with enough time for you to rearrange your royal appearances to carve out this time with him - an entire three day span, just the two of you. Three days felt like a lifetime when the two of you were only able to schedule hour-long secret meetings.

Once, in a desperate bid just to have your scent on him, you two had met for a total of twenty minutes.

Your rendezvous were often short, full of imminent risk and danger of being caught. Today felt like a blessing from the Mother, as if she were granting her star crossed lovers a vacation, a peek into what life could be like - what life will be like one day.

You two just had to be patient.

Even an entire court away, Beron would know someone from the Night Court was on his land. Perhaps not immediately, but he would know before your three days were over. So the two of you met in the Winter Court, in a cabin you were gifted a long, long time ago. A cabin you’ve gone to on occasion over the years, whenever you needed to get away and be alone. You had set the trap perfectly for your family - you were getting into petty squabbles the entire week, picking fights with Cassian and Mor left and right that left the two of them reeling with annoyance.

Your brother tired of it quite quickly, clocking it for what he thought it was.

“Perhaps you should spend a weekend away, star.”

His tone was full of concern, for this was how you always were before retreating to your hidden cabin. Irritable, crabby, unable to have decent conversation with anyone without leading them into a spiral of anger.

“I’m fine,” you reply, intentionally clipping the words to make yourself seem in a much worse state than you were. “Besides, I have some scheduled meetings this weekend.”

Rhys nods, “Feyre has agreed to take over any duties you have that can’t be rescheduled.”

You perked up at that, feeling a little bad at the generosity of his mate. You hadn’t felt easy about this plan - preying upon your family to get what you wanted wasn’t a regular occurrence for you.

But you refused to let any negative feelings about what you were doing get in the way of seeing your mate.

“Are you sure, Rhys?”

He waves a hand, “Go, please only return once you feel rested and headache-free. Cassian is quite adept at giving migraines.”

You smile, “so no one will bother me?”

He sighs at your continued questioning, “no, star. I think we’d be too afraid to bother you, except for Amren. And she’s in Summer for who knows how long.”

He stands up, crossing the room to you, his long legs practically gliding across the floor. He wraps you in his arms, squeezing you tightly before kissing you on the top of your head. He gently sways the two of you as you wrap your arms around him.

“Thanks, Rhys.”

He lays his head on top of your own, “just send word if you’ll be gone longer than a week. I just want to know you’re alive out there.”

This cabin was a frequent rendezvous point for the two of you, much cozier than the large clearings and forests you two otherwise frequent. The cabin was more ideal, however Eris couldn’t deny how incredible it felt to be inside of you as he leaned you up against various trees in the forest, the leaves crunching beneath his boots as he thrusted over and over into you.

His cock twitched at the thought as he walked towards the front door of the cabin. The door groaned slightly as he entered, marking his entrance. He felt the slight magical barrier ripple as he passed the threshold. He shut the door behind him, taking in the small, two bedroom cabin before him.

The place was quaint and cozy, an insult he would use to describe Rhysand’s absurdly large and ornate homes, but for you it was a testament to how infectious the comfort you radiated was.

It permeated every surface - the walls, covered in various portraits and landscape paintings, along with shelves of books and trinkets.

His scent was stale from the last time he was here, but yours was fresh, as was the smell of some delicious meats and fresh breads. He closed his eyes and leaned his back against the door, catching a glimpse of you as you pittered about the kitchen. He crossed his arms over his chest, allowing himself a moment to think of what his life could be like if the two of you were ordinary fae.

He would come home from whatever job he had, perhaps a scholar of some kind, leaving at the same time every day to come home to his mate.

You two would clean your house together, bickering over your inability in any universe to put dirty socks in the hamper, and how in every universe feet would continue to make Eris shudder in disgust. In any other life, he would be thrilled to experience monotony with you.

But he’s not in another life, one of openness and free-flowing adoration, one free of constant plotting and scheming, earning favors wherever he can. He’s in this one - the reality where no one knows about the two of you, because once they do it will become an inter-court political nightmare. It is a life of stolen glances, hidden messages, and secret meetings under the moonlight, but it is a life that belongs to him, when for so long his life was not his own.

Eris would love you in all lives, your soul reaching to him in every iteration and reincarnation of the two of you. If the two of you were nothing but bacteria living on the same organism’s skin, he would find you. He would know it was you, no matter what shade of organism you wore.

The bond hums in your chest, tugging you to look towards the door where you know Eris is standing and watching. You continue the task at hand, not wanting anything to miss your notice. The bond deep inside of you grows more and more insistent, screaming at you to smell him, taste him, feel him, here, here, here. He’s here, in your house, and you need to look, look, look.

You let Eris come to you, just as you always had, just as you always will. You’re slicing bread, placing the pieces in the bottom of the bowls when the smell of petrichor and caramel hits your nose, a warm presence at your back.

“Good evening, my fox.”

His face burrows into your neck at the nickname, melting into everything that was you. His arms wrapped around you, hands meeting yours. His fingers pull the knife from your grip, gently placing it down on the cutting board.

“What are you doing, my evening star?” His voice is purposefully low in your ear, causing goosebumps to trail down your neck, his hands warming your fingers.

“I’ll give you three guesses.”

His soft chuckle warms your chest, the bond constricting around your heart at his amusement.

“Are you cooking?”

“Yes, Er.”

“I’m surprised your wraiths didn’t prepare anything for you.”

“They did,” you hum, turning in his arms, his amber eyes meeting yours, not quite certain of what they’re seeing.

His hands meet your hips, his touch warm on your skin, and you circle your arms around his neck, fingers raking through his hair at the root.

He hums at your touch, his face swooping down to kiss your forehead.

You look up at him under your eyelashes, his nose and cheeks littered with freckles, mapping out where home was. You point your head in the direction of two large picnic baskets, one of which was opened for Eris to see various jars of jams and breads.

“Why would you-” his words fall short, his thoughts racing through his mind. They stream by in words and bits of phrases, but no completed thoughts make their way through the whirl and swirl of mate, food, and bond.

He short circuits, not quite grasping what you’re getting at.

“I have never gotten to cook for you,” you shrug nonchalantly.

His eye twitches, still not understanding.

“You’re cooking… for me?” His words come out slow and uncertain, as if the mere concept of someone choosing to do something like this was absolutely foreign to him. You nod slowly, not used to seeing Eris so incapable of understanding.

“But if you-“

“Yes.”

“Then we’ll-“

“Yes.”

“Are you-“

“Yes.”

He stills, his thumb lightly brushing against your hip. Your eyes are open and bright, wanting to convey to him the certainty you felt. You lightly tug on the bond connecting the two of you and he rubs his chest at the feeling.

It’s quiet as the snow falls outside, unaware of the monumental decision you had decided on once Eris’s letter had arrived earlier in the week. You had spent the past few months researching traditional autumn foods, preparing for this day. You had known for quite a while you were going to accept the bond, you just didn’t know when the two of you would have the chance to spend more than a few fleeting hours together. You had sent a silent prayer of thanks to the Mother when you received Eris’s letter, soft prayers echoing through your mind each night ensuring this would all work.

“Is everything ready?”

His eyes peer into yours, a vulnerability he rarely lets anyone see, even you. His words come out soft and slightly timid, as if he’s worried he’ll scare you off.

“Yes, we just have to bring the food to the table.”

“May I help?” He doesn’t move towards the food, but one of his hands twitches, moving imperceptibly closer to you.

“I would appreciate that.”

It’s quiet as you two move to the food, grabbing platters and bowls to bring to the table. Once the table is full, a three course meal laid out in front of the two of you, the reality set in a bit. It wasn’t that you didn’t love Eris, but you were slightly concerned you were forcing his hand with this.

This was always ‘someday’, but now it was here and you didn’t know how he truly felt about it. That was until he grabbed your plate, placing the still warm pita in front of you. You placed a piece of pita on his own plate, and he looked at the baba ganoush before him, its texture so unlike anything he had seen in Autumn. “What do I do?”

You ripped a piece of your pita off, dipping it into the bowl, grabbing some of the baba ganoush on it before offering it to him. He inspects the piece, before doing the same with his own piece of pita, bringing the piece to your mouth.

“Eat. This might be the last time we’re rational enough for food.”

The two of you bite down on the pita, the warmth of the bread with the chill of the baba ganoush, the smoky, rich flavor exploding in your mouths. The room immediately shifted with the scent of your mixed arousals, but the two of you ignored it. His fingers lingered on your mouth, swiping at your lips before ripping off another piece of pita.

Heat was coursing through your veins, Eris’s emotions thrumming through you at a higher intensity. He felt electric in your veins.

You continue feeding each other until the pita’s gone and your attention shifts to the bouillabaisse. In similar fashion, the two of you poured the soup into the bowls with the bread before setting them down. You were thrumming, every part of you screamed to be closer to him, your thoughts having a background loop of mate, mate, mate.

“How did you know about bouillabaisse?”

Eris’s words send heat through you - his voice, soft and low, the actual words not registering with your insatiable need for him.

“Beg your pardon?”

His smirk is feline as he knows exactly why you didn’t hear him, but he repeats his question with no teasing.

“I um, found it a few months ago - I was in Dawn and a little restaurant served it.”

You could feel the sweat on your brow as you watched Eris’s fingers bring another spoonful to his mouth. You thought about all the things he could do with those fingers, that mouth, that tongue-

“Nobody in Dawn serves this. It is a regional dish, more specifically it is only found on the seaside of Autumn.”

Busted.

You take another bite of the soup, the flavors so different from Night Court cuisine, but you weren’t complaining. Several of the fish in the soup were only found along the coast of Autumn and Winter, some making it as far north as Dawn.

“I may have perused some Autumn Court restaurants when I was visiting once.”

Eris stretches out the fingers of his hand, moving his long fingers in torturous preparation before placing his hand on your thigh. His touch was so warm, you began pulling at the collar of your dress to let the heat escape, biting your lip to keep the moan from escaping.

“When were you allowed in Autumn?”

“Fine,” your voice came out sharp, the room much too hot for an interrogation, “I snuck into Autumn a few months ago trying to find something to make you for this. I tried a bouillabaisse at this incredible little restaurant and I paid them an exorbitant amount of gold to teach me how to make it and to not tell anyone I was there. I slipped back in yesterday to pick up the fish in this soup.”

His fingers dance about on your thigh, and you take a quick glance down at his pants, your body growing warmer at his cock pressing across his pants, desperate to be released. You can’t move your eyes away from it - knowing how it looked, how it felt in your mouth, how it tasted - you were about to start drooling before Eris’s hand came up and closed your jaw.

“Strip.”

Eris’s words were a demand, full of power and need.

“But we still have dess-“

Your words died on your tongue as Eris began unbuttoning his shirt, your eyes caught on his lean chest, littered with freckles. You were in need, too, practically salivating at your mate’s display of his body, and you can’t quite remember why you wanted him to finish the whole meal.

He huffs over to you, his hands grabbing the fabric of your dress, ripping it in half down the middle. You gasp as the cold air meets your skin, somehow making your nipples even harder.

You stare at him wide eyed, even more aroused than before. At this point, you knew your panties were doing very little to keep your arousal from coating your thighs.

“You took too long,” he snarls, undoing the ties of his pants.

You had begun pulling the remnants of your dress off your shoulder, but stopped to watch your mate hook his thumbs into his trousers and pull them down, letting his cock free.

You move forward, ready to jump on Eris, but his hand on your chest stops you, eliciting a whine from you. His other hand grabs the molten chocolate cake you had made, slowly lifting it out of the ramekin. He holds it delicately in his hand, the other hand on your chest moving up to your hair, tugging gently on the strands to pull you towards him.

Your chests were touching, the warmth of his body seeping into yours. He blazed with heat, his cock hard with need pressed into your stomach. His cheeks are dusted with pink and his blood was boiling inside of him, but he moved ever so slowly, his fingers meeting your chin. He looked into your eyes, the two of you the only beings in the world right now.

“My mate.”

Anything could be happening outside of the walls of this cabin. The snow could have all melted, a heat wave sending the Winter Court into chaos, and you wouldn’t know. All you would know was Eris’s gaze on you, mapping out every inch of your body so he can remember every detail correctly when he thinks about this once you two are apart. His thumb applied pressure on your chin, opening your mouth. He placed the cake in your mouth, whispering, “don’t bite, not yet.”

You moved your hands to his hips, holding onto him. One of his hands moves to help hold the cake up, his other holding onto your neck. He puts the other end of the small cake into his mouth and lightly tugs on the bond. You both bite into it, the liquid chocolate center immediately cascading down and coating both of your chests. You both make quick work of finishing the remainder of the cake, tearing and gnawing at the soft dessert until you finish it off. He catches your lips in a kiss, the taste of the chocolate a luxury on his tongue.

You jump, feet slipping slightly on the bits of chocolate that made it to the floor. Eris’s arms catch underneath your thighs, wrapping your legs around his hips. He lays you down on the table, moving his lips from your mouth, down the column of your throat, down your chest. You’re pulsing with need, desperate to feel any friction from him. You thrust your hips up, desperate to meet any feeling of him against you. His arm moves across your hips, pushing you down against the table. He shakes his head as he keeps kissing down your stomach, lifting his arm for a ring of fire to take its place around your waist.

He skips over where you want him, instead moving his head down to your thigh, licking up towards your hips. His tongue was hot as it slid up your inner thigh, lapping up the chocolate that had dripped down it. Your breathing was ragged as you felt his hot tongue growing closer and closer to you, and it felt like it was getting warmer the further it moved up your thigh.

You looked down at him, his amber eyes that were full of heat all you can see of his face as his tongue finally slips between your folds. You moan at the contact, throwing your head back and hitting it harshly against the table. The pain didn’t register, not as Eris - your mate - was moving his tongue as if he knew every part of you, as if he knew exactly how you felt as he would warm and cool his tongue at his leisure. He lifted his mouth just an inch, his words slightly muffled by your body.

“You taste of desperation. It’s delicious.”

You moan at his words, and he flicks your clit with his tongue. His hands warm on your thighs, pressing them further apart. He slips his tongue back through your folds, your hands gripping onto his hair to keep his mouth on you. He grabs your legs, hoisting them over his shoulders before one of his hands disappears. You are writhing on the table, his grip on you lighting your skin on fire. The room grows heavier with the scent of his arousal, and you twitch your ears at the new sound in the room.

He was moaning into your pussy, the vibrations coursing through your body as you realized the hand that left you was wrapped around his cock, pumping furiously. The thought of him being so aroused at eating you out that he has to touch himself sends you over the edge, your thighs clenching over his ears as you finish on his tongue. Your breathing was heavy, and Eris’s tongue did not let up, lapping like a starved male. You pulled him up by his hair, bringing your face to his. Your tongue swipes into his mouth, tasting a combination of yourself and chocolate on his mouth. You grab his shoulders, deepening the kiss as you flip him onto his back, pressing him onto the table. His hands grip onto your hips, trying to push you onto him, desperate for any touch from you. He whimpers as you tug his hair, pulling him into you.

You place teasing bites as you move down his torso, leaving mark after mark in a line towards his happy trail. You purposefully rub your breasts against his cock, smiling up at him as he groans, your breath hot on his crotch.

You lick from underneath his shaft, your tongue slowly moving from the base to the tip before putting his cock completely in your mouth. He tasted like cinnamon with a little salt, the chocolate flavor on your tongue making him taste incredible. His hands move, gripping onto your hair as he chants your name - a prayer, a plea, you weren’t sure. Your hands wrapped around the base of his cock and his hips thrusted trying to push himself deeper into your mouth.

You wanted to tease him about needing to touch himself while his mouth was on you, but you felt the same compulsions as you bobbed your head up and down on his cock. You resist the urge to move your fingers to yourself by digging your nails into Eris’s thighs, leaving half moon indents. His grip grew tighter on your hair, pushing your head down harder as he got closer to finishing, his moans filling the cabin as he finished, the hot taste of cinnamon filling your mouth and coating your throat as you swallow it. You pull your mouth off of him, his cock twitching again at the look you give him as you lick your lips.

He growled and you swiped your tongue up his still hard cock. He lunged for you, jumping off the table before his teeth sink onto your nipple, pulling the skin with his teeth. You gasp, pinching his nipple back in response.

“Do you think there’s something there about eating to accept the bond and what we just did?”

You waggle your brows at him, but his eyes are a bottomless pit of black. Gone are the amber hues of fallen leaves, replaced by an endless void of hunger. You lean up to kiss him, the taste of both of you swirling between your tongues. You start walking backward, knocking into one of the chairs. He catches you, one arm hooking around your waist.

His pointer finger moves up from your belly button to your neck, swiping up the chocolate left behind. He puts his finger in your mouth, having you suck the chocolate off.

“Maybe we should get cleaned up.”

You smiled around his finger, swirling your tongue around it as you looked up at him from under your lashes. You nodded, taking his whole finger into your mouth. He breathes in deeply through his nose, his eyes swirling with desire before you. His other arm loops around your waist, carrying you through the cabin. Your giggles echoed down the hallway as Eris moved the two of you into the bathroom. He doesn’t set you down, shifting instead to hold you up against the wall with one arm while he turns the shower on.

The water started cascading down the both of you, sweeping the remnants of the chocolate down the drain. Your feet hit the floor as Eris pushes the two of you forward, your back hitting the wall. The water fell over your face, making it hard to see him, but you could feel everything about him. You felt his skin on yours, your chests pushed together. You felt his emotions thrumming inside of you, bouncing everywhere, filling every available space. You had heard of the bond being accepted as an all-consuming thing, but you found any previous descriptions to be wholly inadequate. Every inch of you burned for him, thrumming with need to be near, to have him with you, to have him inside of you.

He grabs the bar of soap from the shower, lathering it onto a wet washcloth before rubbing it against your body, rubbing the chocolate from both yours and his skin.

“I never thought accepting the bond would be so messy.”

Eris’s hand guided the wash cloth across your shoulders, your sternum, before taking his time as he rubbed it against your breasts. His thigh slid between your legs, separating them. Lean muscle pressed against your cunt as you sank onto his thigh. His lips were on your mouth as you ground onto his thigh. He tossed aside the washcloth, his hands gripped your hips, harshly moving you against his thigh.

“My beautiful, beautiful mate.”

His voice was husky, echoing through the shower, further cementing that feeling he was everywhere.

“Gonna fall apart on my thigh?”

His lips move down your neck, teeth sinking into skin.

“We have all weekend for me to put every part of me to good use.”

You threw your head back, hitting the wall softly. One of Eris’s hands moves behind your head, cushioning the blow. His grip is unforgiving as he continues moving you, his thigh rubbing your clit so perfectly. Eris looked so beautiful before you, his pale skin a soft shade of pink from the heat radiating off of him.

His irises have shrunk enough for you to see a slither of the amber you love so much. You could feel him thrumming in your chest and you swore if you looked down, the room would be alight with the gold tie between you two. You gripped his shoulders as he pressed his thigh into harder, sending you over the edge.

You’re reeling from the orgasm, but Eris’s grip doesn’t let up. He uses his other leg to spread your legs again, and his hands move down to your ass, picking you up before sliding his cock into you. It feels right when he’s inside of you, the pounding in your head subsiding, the heat dissipating for just a moment before it was replaced with the need for more, more, more.

Your head moves across the tiled wall as Eris thrusts into you. You grip his hair, pulling his face to you again before kissing his mouth, needing to feel him everywhere. You’re all teeth as you nip and bite across his neck, up his jaw, on his earlobes. The shower does little to hide the whimper he lets out.

His fingers grab your face, pulling you from his ear to his mouth. He kisses you hard and passionately before pulling out of you and turning you around. Your hands press into the wall as his hands roam down the sides of your body, sending chills throughout you.

One of his hands ran through your hair, wrapping it around his hand, the other wrapping around your waist, holding your back to his chest. The water streamed down the two of you, but you hardly noticed as he kissed your neck, pushing you against the wall.

You moan, pushing your ass against his cock. He growls as one of his hands traces from your hip down to your upper inner thigh, gripping tightly.

He bit your shoulder blade, pushing deeper inside of you. The pressure inside of you kept building, the water streaming across your skin growing hotter. Your blood was boiling, you weren’t sure where you stopped and Eris began. His thrusts became harder and more erratic, his fingers gripping so tightly you were sure they’d bruise.

Eirs held you in an iron grip as he came inside of you, his release causing you to finish again. Arms braced against the wall as you panted heavily, Eris softly pulled himself out of you. His hands rubbed down your arms, and you stood up straighter, albeit on shaky legs. His eyes were roaming your body, looking over all the marks leftover from your tryst. The two of you were no strangers to rougher sex - most of the time you two were only able to satiate each other against a tree for mother’s sake. The tiles were no concern to you, but you knew Eris felt something deeper within him, guilt perhaps at how little control he had and the marks a reminder of that. Having a bond was new, but accepting the bond was utter chaos. A thousand emotions rattled through you, unsure of who they truly belonged to the most dominant ones were to protect and to fuck.

Eris slipped his arm out of the shower, his head going with it. You took the moment to gaze down at his ass, the little freckles scattered across it gave you the urge to bite the plump flesh. He came back in fully with a washcloth, and your gaze softened. You reach out, grabbing his wrist to stop him.

“Er, I don’t care, we’ll probably be going at it again in twenty minutes.”

Despite your protests, he broke free of the loose grip you had on him. He brought the cloth up under the water, letting it get properly drenched.

“I know.”

He moved the washcloth down between your legs, his touch impossibly gentle compared with the male who was gripping your hips hard enough to bruise moments ago.

“We’ve just never gotten to have this part before.”

You think back to all the times you two have met - in the woods, in secure cabins, in closets to find that he was right. Every moment alone the two of you had counted, and neither of you were ever able to linger for long after sex.

Another thing the secrecy cost the both of you.

He looked to you, asking silent permission, and you nod. He moved the washcloth, cleaning the remnants of himself off of you. He rinsed the washcloth again before moving it across your skin - your stomach, your shoulders, your arms. He lingered, taking the time to clean every inch of you. He laughed, pointing out you still had some chocolate behind your ear. Once he finished, he reached to turn off the shower, but your hand stopped his.

His eyes are assessing as you slowly grab the washcloth from him, your own eyes reflecting his previous question. He nods, and you start your own work of cleaning him. Your eyes trail his body, taking in how vulnerable he is in this moment. You hummed softly, the tune of some song you can’t recall the name of. The sound makes some of the emotions inside of you die down a bit, replaced by a calmer feeling. Eris tips his head down as you wipe at his back, the scars there almost mirrors of your own.

The cloth moves down him, but you stop to kiss a few of the scars on his upper back. Once you’re done, you drop the washcloth on the floor, wrapping your arms around his torso. Eris’s hand reaches out, shutting off the shower, but not making any indication he wants to move.

Eris’s love sitting inside of you felt different to the love you felt for him - synonyms, perhaps. But not quite the same.

After several minutes, you grabbed some towels from the cabinets, offering one to Eris. He slings it around his hips lazily, lifting you into his arms. You had barely wrapped yourself in the towel before he scooped you up.

The two of you land on the bed, decadent in shades of blue across the massive sea of blankets and pillows. The only reminder that neither of you were in your home courts. Eris taps your chest, the reminder you felt about having to leave him leaking over to his side of the bond.

You two settle on the pillows, discarding your towels to lay beneath the large duvet. You climbed on top of him, settling on his chest. His cock grew hard again, and you moved so you could settle with him inside of you.

You traced your fingers over his freckles, connecting them with your finger. “I can make constellations out of them,” you tell him.

The roar has subsided enough for you to feel like a person again rather than a beast. You know it’ll come back, in minutes or seconds you weren’t sure, but you wanted to spend whatever time with him like this that you could.

Eris thrusts softly inside of you, watching your eyes look for patterns in the freckles across his cheeks.

“Perhaps you can make me a constellation that will always lead me to you.”

You chuckle, leaning forward to kiss him softly. Your mate. You feel the pit inside of you start to roar, but you swallow it down, opting instead to search inside of yourself, finding that golden thread tethering you to him, and pulling.

“It appears I already have.”

He flips the two of you, laying you on your back as he slowly puts himself inside of you again. He fills you up completely, reaching the base of his cock before stopping and just staying there.

“Mm, Eris.”

He smiles, his arms landing on each side of your face, caging you in. He moves a few strands of hair out of your face, his thumb stroking your cheek.

He smiles down at you, his freckles dancing across his face, the sunlight illuminating his hair to look as if it were made of flame.

His fingers tangle in your hair, lightly holding on.

“You are everything to me.”

His voice comes out soft and slightly shaky, as if the admission were almost painful. He began thrusting slowly, but this felt different. Anyone who had ever thought Eris Vanserra incapable of being soft should see him now.

“I will do everything in my power to keep you safe.”

His thrusts became faster with each word, but not harsher.

“I will always take care of you.”

Your fingers grip his shoulders, your thumb softly rubbing the skin.

“And I you.”

You were reaching that peak again, but this time it felt different. It wasn’t feral, the need to satiate the physicality of the bond, but rather to remind yourself that you two were bound together, forever.

“I love you, mate.”

His words have you seeing stars, and you practically feel yourself leave your body, but you hear yourself say, “and I love you,” as Eris finishes inside of you.

He collapses on you, his cock still inside of you. You both are breathing heavily, unable to get enough air into your lungs. He collapses on top of you, his arms digging beneath you to wrap you in an embrace.

No touch was enough, even as you wrapped your own arms around him, peppering kisses into the side of his head. The two of you lay there, eventually Eris peaks his head out from your neck to watch the snow fall outside the window. You think about the many lives you could lead with Eris Vanserra - how much simpler your lives could be if you were born of different circumstances.

But those Erises wouldn’t be the one laying on top of you now. They wouldn’t have as sharp of a tongue as he does, or perhaps their noses wouldn’t slant the same way his does. You could lead a thousand lifetimes with a thousand Erises, each one different from the next. Your thumb grazes his cheek, deciding that easy was never meant for you. It was never meant for Eris, either.

In those thousand lifetimes, the only edge they have on this one is the ability for you two to be more free about your love.

You wouldn’t have to return to your respective homes, glamouring the scent of your mating bond from those around you in a bid to mitigate the unwanted comments from those around either of you. Beron would be excited, an intercourt mating would come with tremendous benefits for him. Rhysand would be pissed, your entire family shocked at the secret, unable to bite their tongues from disrespecting your mate with the twisted truths.

Secrets can only last for so long. They all get spoken at some point, and one day everyone will know how you have been carrying Eris’s love for years, how it has carried you for much longer than you thought, and how it will still carry you wherever you need to go.

Even when it’s in the opposite direction of him.

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx

Eris taglist: @secret-third-thing

Thanks for reading 💕

#gingerfucker #acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris acotar #eris x you #eris x y/n #eris vanserra fanfic #eris vanserra smut #eris vanserra x you

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surielstea · 5 months

Text

Taunts and Tension

Based on this request!

Pairing: Azriel x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader and Azriel go on a spy mission and come back a little more touchy than usual?

Warnings: Sexual tension | Briefest mention of a threesome | innuendo of oral (m receiving)

2.8k words

“You have got to be kidding me,” The Shadow Singer grumbled as the High Lord told him we’ve been partnered for his next mission.

“Unfortunately, he’s not,” I huff to the tall male, just as annoyed as him. “Rhys with all due respect, I work alone,” Azriel contended and I scoff. “Does that apply to your love life too?” I quip but they both ignore me. “I know Az, but Eris likes her, he’s more likely to play by our rules if we use her as bait,” Rhys says. “It’s just a meeting, the both of you only have to get along for a few hours,” He hums and I roll my eyes, I couldn’t refuse the offer, he was paying me double for this. “Fine,” Azriel uttered, the fool agreed for free.

“Good, you leave at sunset,” The half-fae instructs then quickly dismisses the both of us when his mate comes into his office, a babbling Nyx in her arms. “Hi sweetie,” I coo at the two-year-old as I pass Feyre on the way out. “Auntie!” He exclaims with a bright smile. The High Lady waved at me and I returned it. “Be careful on your mission tonight,” She advises and I brush her off. “It’s just a meeting, nothing to be worried about.” I smile. “Oh, I wasn’t referring to your assignment,” Her eyes flick to Azriel and my lips form an ‘o’ shape in realization. She chuckled then gave me a wink as the Shadow Singer passed by me, muttering a curse under his breath. I return her smile then nod in a farewell and go the opposite direction down the hall.

The Spring Court was a lot duller than I had expected. Sure the flowers were in bloom and the sun still seeped through the trees but, there was no vibrancy to the colors. “Feyre really did a number on this place,” I hum, looking out at the deserted Court. It still held some beauty, the crystal clear lakes with lily pads floating heedlessly, the rolling hills, and flower fields.

“I kind of feel bad for him,” I mutter, bending down and plucking a daisy from a patch sprouting out the trunk of a maple tree. “Don’t,” Azriel huffed. We were on the border between Spring and Autumn so there was a weird merging between wildlife, the magnolia trees slowly shifting into maples, bunnies sectioned from foxes, and lush forests morphing into rustic woods.

“Are we early or is he just trying to make an entrance?” I sigh, already bored. “Early,” He replies and my shoulders sag. “Can you only respond with one-word answers?” I narrow my eyes on the Shadow Singer. He smirks. “No,” He says and I grit my teeth, looking down at the daisy in my hands.

We go silent for a moment. I stare out at the dusky sky, the last of the sun slipping below the hills. He seems content to continue staring at me, much to my dismay. I didn’t know what for, it’s not like he had to keep an eye on me, and there was nothing I could do that his shadows wouldn’t report back to him, they were often all over me, seemingly out of his control when I was around.

“What?” I snap my head back to him after only a minute, his stare becoming too physical, like I could feel the way his eyes traced my features. “Why are you dressed like that?” He tilts his head. I look down at my gown with creased brows. It was a silk slip, a rich mocha color. I look at what he’s wearing, his usual leathers. “It’s a meeting Azriel, we’re not battling warriors,” I remark. “Is it because we’re meeting with Eris?” He tilts his head. I cross my arms. “What’s that supposed to mean?” I bite back. “That you’re trying to impress him,” He surmises.

“Nuh-uh!”

“Nuh uh?” He mocks. “That’s your defense?” The brunette scoffs and my frown deepens, leaning against the tree at my back. “I wore the dress ‘cause I didn’t wanna change, okay?” I explain with narrowed brows. “And it’s not my fault he admires me,” I add. “Not that you know the feeling,” I murmur under my breath but of course, he heard it.

He takes a menacing step forward, shadows turning sporadic around him and I roll my eyes on the dramatics of it— anyone else would’ve been begging for forgiveness just by looking into the darkness of his eyes. “What was that?” His hand comes to my chin, forcing my head toward him. I jerk out of his hold with a grimace.

“I said you don’t know what it’s like to be admired, or do you need a reminder that you’ve been chasing the same girl for five hundred years?” This time I was the one to take a step forward, my chest nearly pressed to his. “Because newsflash Az, she doesn’t want you—” I start but his hands come to my wrists and pull them up above my head, pinning me to the tree, his other hand on my hip so I can’t thrash.

His nostrils flared, eyes ablaze and I nearly laughed. “You’re constantly teetering on that edge huh? Can’t ever keep your temper in check?” I arch a brow up at him, my smirk only widens as I watch him grit his teeth. He knew what I meant. Knew that he pounced on anyone who damaged his fragile ego, and talked down on his precious family, gods forbid I mention Morrigan. His hold moves from my waist to my neck, wrapping his large hand entirely around my throat, softly squeezing.

“You’re choking me,” I whisper out and the sadistic fuck has a smile on his face. “You seem like the type to be into that,” He presumes and he wouldn’t be far off if this was a different situation. I flush pink at the idea, it’d be a lie if I said I hadn’t imagined the Spymaster on top of me more than once. My cheeks were burning hot, I was beyond embarrassed, and slightly turned on.

“Not so talkative now, are we?” He was so close, so close his body was pressed to my own, our breath shared as his face hovered above mine, cauldron damn his height.

“Let me go,” I pull at my wrists but his grip is iron, and maybe my attempts were halfhearted because, in all honesty, I didn’t want to leave this position one bit. “You learn your lesson yet? Or are you gonna keep being a brat?” He hums and arousal pools in my panties. I quickly glamour the scent, praying he didn’t recognize it before I got the chance. “Fuck you,” I seethe, continuing my futile attempts to escape. “Such a filthy mouth, you wanna put it to better use?” He asks and if I wasn’t red before I definitely was now. “In your dreams,” I hiss. “Oh love, it is,” He smirks, and my brain stutters. What’d he just say?

My pointed ears perk before I can reply, noticing an unfamiliar pair of footsteps. Not Eris.

“Someone’s coming, kiss me,” I say with a rushed tone. “What?” His hand loosened around my neck. “Just—” I don’t finish and interrupt myself by lifting onto my toes and crashing my lips against his.

He seems taken aback for a moment then to my surprise, leans into it. I melt at the feeling. He was tentative at first but once I showed him this was what I asked for he seemed almost, hungry. His hand slips from my throat and cups my jaw instead, calloused thumb pulling at my bottom lip and forcing them open. I can’t help but obey his silent command, parting my lips wider so he can capture me fully. His mouth seals over mine yet again and my stomach ties into knots, the thrumming sensation in my ribcage making me realize this was a point of no return.

His tongue explored my mouth like it was his and his alone, he was devouring me and I savored every moment. An energy buzzed between us, my wrists still pinned up by his hold, but I wasn’t any less greedy with my lips. I wanted him to taste me, to memorize me, and never forget the feel of his lips on mine, I wanted it to hurt when he had to pull away. Languid movements with his tongue turn into messy, impatient strokes, needing all of me right then and there— and I would’ve given it to him if not for that pair of footsteps returning, so much closer this time.

“What’s going on here?” A gruff voice demands answers and Azriel hesitantly detaches, like he was unwilling.

It takes me a moment to even open my eyes, gods if he’s got me this paralyzed over just a kiss who knows how much more I could take? Azriel lets go of my wrists and I regain consciousness.

“I’m sorry Officer,” I put on my most innocent smile. The male in front of me was Autumn Court patrol, lower in rank based on the patches on his arms. “What’s an Illyrian doing so far from home?” He snarled the word like it was a curse. “We’re traveling sir,” I say, intertwining my hand with Azriel’s. He stiffens at the action as if I didn’t just have his lips on mine. “Travelin’?” The officer scoffs. “Out here?” He hums. “Yes sir, it’s our honeymoon,” I grin wildly, trying to capture the excitement of newlyweds as I hold our linked hands up.

The officer raises his brows a fraction, he was buying it. He was visibly older, you had to be ancient as a fae to start having wrinkles and this guy had plenty. “You know, I feel like I recognize you,” He hums and I swallow thickly. It was more likely for Azriel to get recognized out of the two of us, so the Shadow Singer didn’t take his chances and stuffed his face into my neck, lining kisses from my shoulder to my jaw. My hand goes into his hair, weaving my fingers into his soft, dark locks as I continue carrying on the conversation.

“Really? What from?” I tilt my head, resting my luck. “Not quite sure…” He thinks for a moment. “Ah, forget it probably just confusing you with my granddaughter, she’s lovely like you,” He says and I giggle light-heartedly. “That’s sweet to hear,” I smile. “Alright you kids be safe, perhaps find an inn somewhere,” He starts his trek once more. “Thank you, officer!” I call to him and he gives me a wave.

I nearly cackle as Azriel pulls away from my neck, my lipgloss smeared along his lips. I reach up and wipe it away with a teasing smile. “Not much of a spymaster if I’m the one saving you, hm?” I say, hands cupping his cheeks. “You were the one distracting me in the first place,” He defended, crossing his arms and I snicker. “Awh, poor Illyrian baby is pouting 'cause I’m better at his job,” I taunt, his gaze on my lips as I talk.

“Well, that was quite the show,” A familiar, smooth voice intones from a short distance away and I whip my head towards the figure, leaning against a tree with an unmistakable foxlike smirk on his face. “How long have you been standing there?” Azriel questions and it seems like the Heir might laugh. “It’s truly a wonder how your shadows didn’t find me, though I suppose they’re preoccupied at the moment,” He gestures to the ground beneath me where they were pooling at my feet, flicking up and twining at my ankle every now and again, completely forgetting what their job was in my presence.

The meeting went smoothly, Azriel was a bit on edge with the lack of his Shadows but other than that Eris complied easily, he seemed to have something up his sleeve but we’d worry about that at a later date, we were only ensuring his loyalty was still with us.

He updated us on some information including his father, the two males briefing over a plan to take down Beron, and as I stood there I realized I was just for show, a shiny jewel for Eris to look at, keep his attention before he got the idea that he could survive on his own. Not that I minded being looked at by the Heir, he was quite pretty— hel, I’d be lying if I said I haven’t dreamed about both the males in front of me, at once, more than once.

Azriel shadow-walked us back to the House of Wind when we were finished, or rather when he was finished. I probably could’ve stayed a few more minutes just to admire Eris in the pale moonlight, but my plans just had to be foiled by the Shadow Singer.

Az flew me the rest of the way into the house bridal style— since you couldn’t winnow straight in due to the wards. His hold on me felt more familiar than usual, and when he put me down he didn’t step away so neither did I.

“Hey,” Cassian said from the dining table, a mouthful of food muffling his voice. We both swivel towards the male, sat next to Nesta who couldn’t be bothered to look up from her book to greet us. “How’d the mission go?” The brunette at the table said once he swallowed his food. We both stiffen, the memory of that kiss has been replaying in my head over and over since it ended and yet it felt odd for anyone else to bring it up.

“Uh, went nice…” I shrug. Nesta looks up from her page, eyes piercing as they read me like the chapters in her book. “Really?” She intervenes and I nod. “Yup, just, so normal,” Azriel blurts out, and for a Spymaster, he was awfully bad at lying. Cassian creased his brows, clearly concerned for his brother. “Why are you acting so weird, then?” Nesta interrogates and the male and I share a look. “I don’t think he’s acting weird,” I scoff. “Do you think you’re acting weird?” My words are fast like I only have one breath to finish my sentence. “Pshh, never,” He shakes his head, looking down at his feet then back up to Lady Death.

“Right, well, man am I exhausted,” I stretch, feigning a yawn. “Yeah, the mission really wore me out,” He sighs, rolling his shoulders like there’s a weight off of them, following me up the stairs towards the bedrooms.

Nesta looks to her mate, a small smirk on her lips. “What?” The lord of bloodshed says cluelessly. “They’re totally going to fuck,” She hums, sinking into her chair a little and picking her book back up.

Azriel and I split off into our respective bedrooms, just across the hall from each other.

I paced beside my closed door, wondering what the fuck was I thinking when I let him kiss me. Sure I’ve always thought he was pretty but that was always a stupid fantasy, not something I would ever pursue… until now. Fuck, I am so finished. I repeatedly hit my palm against my forehead as I racked my head for any thought that didn’t immediately trace back to him. I couldn’t even look at my own hands without thinking about his hands, how they held my jaw— no. I wasn’t going to let myself romanticize this, it was just a mission. Nothing more. Just a kiss. A yearning, passion-filled kiss that fed all my cravings and somehow created new ones.

I groaned, deciding that this was the finest form of torture. I now stand still in front of my door, hoping that if I stare hard enough at it, he’ll come knocking and kiss me again because, fuck, I do want him.

I can’t sit here and wait for him to come rescue me from my own torment so I do it myself, hand coming to the doorknob and before I can psych myself out, I fling the door open.

To my shock, I’m immediately met with Azriel’s figure, his hand up like he was just about to knock.

“You couldn’t even let me make an entrance?” He tilts his head and I roll my eyes. “Shut up and kiss me already,” I grab him by the collar of his leathers and pull him in, the door closing behind him as his lips crash onto mine yet again.

General Taglist: @fxckmiup @olive-main @iluvyewman-blog @gaymistakeboi @glitterypirateduck @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @fauxdette @going-through-shit @glam-targaryen @cauldronboilme27 @sarawritestories @tele86 @rogerbarnesxx @azriels-shadowsinger @stinkinstuffie @sandramalikstyles-blog @sassyangel16 @lilah-asteria @starsinyourseyes @inloveallthetime @melsunshine @nighttimemoonlover @ireallywannasleep127 @cumuluscranium

Azriel Taglist: @coolepowersthings @lovely-giggles @quiettuba @ilovewarner45 @judig92 @tothestarsandwhateverend @je-suis-prest-rachel @call-me-a-fool @brieflyclassymortal @cherryjain17 @stqrgirlies-blog @chelsiemp @nyxbranwenn @dnfhascorruptedme @summerandsalt @annamariereads16 @thisiskaylin @itsbonniebabe

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lotusunique · 3 months

Text

Nights Like This

Armando Aretas x Fem! Reader

Mkay so while yall wait on this pt.3 of The engagement, ima give yall this lil story I been working on! Im ngl I did cut it in half this was long as HELL! So enjoy ❤️

“We should go out tomorrow night. We never do that anymore.", Kelly says grabbing her purse. "Yeah because you and your man are always boo'd up somewhere. Marcus isn't allowed out too many times in a row or Theresa will kick his ass. Mike is happily married now. And I refuse to be a third wheel on you two’s date" I explain.

“So why don't you invite Armando out.", She looks over to Armando who's looking through a case file. Since he helped take down McGrath and saved Callie, Mike tried to sort out a deal for him. He'll work out his sentence, here at AMMO, being apart of the tactical weapons team.

"Um absolutely not. He literally doesn’t know I exist in that way", I groan. "That’s not true. You just gotta make yourself known. Plus he’s kinda a dick. I don't know why you like him anyway.?”,she says damn

near screaming my secret. "Um firstly, shut up. What you wanna tell the whole world my secret?", I shush her. That’s all I fucking need. For Armando to find out I like him or WORSE. Mike and Marcus could find out. I’d never live it down.

"Invite him out or l'm gonna shout it from the rooftops.", Kelly gives an evil smirk.

"Shout what from the rooftops?", Mike looks over to us. "Oh nothing just that Y/n li-", you elbow her in the side. "That Y/n is going out with Kelly and Dorn tomorrow night", you give a tight lipped smile. "I'm so excited I could scream", Kelly smiles.

"Y'all weird as hell man", Mike says just giving the two of you a glance. Kelly lets out a laugh before nodding towards Armando's seat. "No.",you give a stern look.

"Yes!", kelly says seriously. "Fine. I'll do it before I leave later.", you give in, not wanting to discuss it any further.

- Later-

"I'm out, don't stay too long okay", Kelly says patting your shoulder before heading out, quickly shooting a glance over at Armando, signaling you to talk to him.

She heads out, the door closing, being a deafening reminder of how quiet it is since you and Armando are the only ones in the office. The dim lights giving an Erie feel. "Breathe Y/n. Now's the time to go talk to him", You think to yourself.

"Hey."you walk over to him. He looks up at you with a stare that says "what do you want". "Well I just thought that since it's just me and you tonight, we could at least conversate so it won't be absolutely boring", You sit on his desk.

"What do we have to talk about?", He says with that accent that just drives you crazy.

"Well I do technically have something to ask you", You say looking down at him. "There it is", he flashes a smile. "Stop", You roll your eyes.

"Mkay shoot.", He crosses his arms with a smirk.

"Please come with me tomorrow night. Kelly wants me to go out with her and Dorn. And I really don't wanna third wheel.", you plead.

“What’s in it for me?”, he looks up at you, placing the pen in between his plump lips. “What do you want?”,you ask, staring right down at his lips.

“What’re you offering?”, he asks, moving his rolling chair to where he’s sitting in between your legs,staring up at you with this smirk on his face like he just knows what he’s doing to you.

“I..I..uh”,your breath starts to hitch. “Use your words hermosa.”, he glances up at you through low eyes.

He has to know what he’s doing to you right? The only option is to match his energy, even though it’s all a front.

“Mister Aretas, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were flirting with me.”,you snap out of whatever shy shit you just had going on.

“And if I was?”,He traces his finger up your exposed leg. Today was the perfect day to wear a pencil skirt.

The sound of the glass doors creaking open surprises you, causing you to move off the desk swiftly as possible.

“Sorry, I left my house keys”,Marcus walks in, not looking at the two of you.

“Hollup…it’s real dark in here. What yall in here-“,he looks between the two of you. “Nothing we were just talking”,you say quickly. Marcus looks over at Armando who has a condescending smirk upon his face. “Oh okay”,Marcus laughs. “It’s not like that Marcus”,You bury your head in your hands with a laugh.

“Look that ain’t nun of my business. Just make sure you use that latex. Cause you don’t wanna get that I’m late Text!”,he says before dapping Armando up. “What is HAPPENING”, you internally scream to yourself.

Marcus quickly makes his exit, leaving you and Armando to discuss what just happened. “That was embarrassing”,you groan. “It was hilarious”,he laughs. “No it wasn’t”, you lean against the door. “I’ll go with you. I’ve got something to handle before hand though,so I’ll meet you there”,he smiles over at you.

“Okay great. I’m gonna go home. Be safe. I’ll see you tomorrow”,you nervously grab your things before heading out to your car.

#armando aretas #armando x reader #bad boys ride or die #bad boys for life

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littlest-w01f · 9 days

Text

Sleepy

Eris Vanserra x Reader

For @erisweekofficial

Eris week 2024 Masterlist

Day 7: Free Day

Summary: Eris wakes up in the middle of the night aroused from his newly accepted mating bond with Reader.

Cw: M!Masturbation, consensual somonophilia, F!Fingering, Dom!Eris, MxF, Kinda lesser fae reader based on phrasing, Smut 18+ MDNI

The night was at its peak, the moonlight streaming through the red silk curtains illuminated the room with a soft, ethereal glow. You lay nestled within the warm embrace of Eris, his strong arms cradling you close as if you were the most precious thing in his world. His body pressed intimately against yours, radiated heat from his fire, providing a comforting contrast to the coolness of the sheets beneath you.

Eris' heart pounded steadily against your back, each beat a silent declaration of his affection for you. A soft sigh escaped his lips as he savoured this moment.

Eris watched you, curled with your legs pressed to your stomach, your back against his chest, purring in your sleep, you looked beautiful asleep, his little bunny, wearing his tunic to sleep because you liked how warm it was after he wore it all day.

His gaze traced the gentle rise and fall of your chest as you slumbered peacefully in his arms. He couldn't help but marvel at your beauty even in your sleep, your face peaceful and relaxed, your skin glowing under the soft moonlight.

His heart clenched, seeing how vulnerable you looked, how trusting you were of him, to keep you safe in your deep cat nap that Eris was sure not even a hurricane or harsh thunderstorm could wake you up from, you'd wake up from sleep only whenever you wanted.

Eris groaned slightly, feeling himself harden at the sight of you, like he had almost every night. The bond the two of you shared kept him in a constant state of arousal around you. Before tonight he used to sneak away to take care of himself if he ever woke up with the need for release, as to not disturb you, but last night, you had worked up to his absence, a pretty frown on your plump lips, claiming you got cold while he was away.

Eris had laughed softly cuddling you again, admitting to what he had been up to, he hardened further at the memory of you shyly telling him you didn't mind if he used you while you slept, not wanting him to be away from you.

With one hand still holding you, Eris used his other to move his sleep pants down until his hard cock sprung free, soon kicking it off from his legs, your words playing in his mind, he pushed his arousal down the bond to you, making you whine.

He slowly moved his tunic up your body till your ass and cunt were exposed to him, breath hitching at the scent of your arousal that he caused by your shared mating bond.

He could feel your arousal spike as soon as he touched you, and he let out a low growl, his cock twitching with need. Slowly, he slid his hand down between your thighs, his fingers finding your slick entrance. He gently rubbed your slit, teasing you as his other hand continued to hold you close. He pushed his arousal down the mating bond once more, watching as you squirmed in his grasp, your cute mewls echoing in the otherwise quiet room, twitching in your sleep.

Eris gave a satisfied grunt as he moved his hand to stroke himself, his hand wet with your arousal moving up and down his cock in a steady rhythm. He let out a low moan as he imagined thrusting into you, filling you up over and over again. He loved the way you would tighten around him, gripping his cock so deliciously. The thought alone made him moan loudly.

As he continued to pleasure himself, he sent wave after wave of arousal down the mating bond, tugging at it, feeling how hot it burned between you, watching as your sleep became increasingly restless. Your hips twitched, your legs pressing together as if trying to ease the ache between them, your toes curling in arousal. He wanted to have you dripping for him before he filled you up to the hilt with his cock.

With a smirk, Eris pulled you closer, nuzzling your neck as he continued to stroke himself. He could feel the power he held over you, the ability to make you squirm and whimper in your sleep. He loved the control, the dominance, the way you surrendered yourself to him completely. He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he whispered, "You're mine, my sweet bunny. My mate. And I'll never let you go." His voice was husky, laced with desire and domination. He knew you heard him, felt him, in your sleep and it only heightened his arousal.

The fire in his blood was undeniable, coursing through his veins like liquid lust. His heart hammered in his chest, pounding with need and desire for you. He wanted nothing more than to bury himself deep inside you, to feel you squeeze him tightly as he spilt his seed within you. His mind swam with thoughts of you, your body writhing underneath him, taking every inch of his cock.

Beads of sweat precipitated on his forehead, on his pale body, "I'm going to fuck you so hard," he murmured, his hot breath ghosting over your skin as he aligned his cock to your cunt, the urge to get off using you making his ears ring.

Your body was still warm and wet from the passionate lovemaking session earlier, he had been so sweet then, he didn't want to be now. Every inch of you called out to him, begging for more. His thick cock slid easily into your cunt, the sensation sending jolts of pleasure coursing through his body.

"You're so fucking tight," He groaned, his grip tightening on your waist as he began to thrust into you. His balls slapped against your thighs with each forceful push.

With a growl, Eris gripped your hips tightly, dominating your body with his powerful thrusts. Each movement was forceful, leaving no room for resistance or escape. His cock buried deep within you, hitting all the right spots as he fucked you senseless. "Mine," he grunted, his hands roaming over your body possessively. He owned you, he knew it, body and soul, and he wasn't afraid to show it.

Eris pinned you beneath him, thrusting deeper, his movements rougher, faster, asserting his dominance over her smaller, drowsy body. The slap of flesh against flesh echoed in the room along with her desperate cries and mewls.

With a start, you woke up, mind still clouded by sleep, and your body instinctively thrusting back into his. A soft gasp escaped your lips as you realized where you were, and who was on top of you. But instead of pushing him away, your body welcomed his intrusion, craving more.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against your ear as he growled, "Who do you belong to, my sweet bunny?" He waited for an answer, knowing she'd say his name but wanting to hear it all the same.

"Mmm... You, Eris..." You purred, moving your hand back to grip the triceps he had around you, holding you still.

A pleased rumble resonated from Eris as he heard your response, his thrusts becoming even more forceful. He liked how easily you submitted to him, how easily you loved him, how quickly you had accepted your place as his mate.

His hand moved inside the tunic you wore, from your waist to your breast, squeezing roughly as he continued to fuck you. His other hand moved to your hair, pulling it slightly as he drove himself deeper into your welcoming cunt.

With a soft cry, you arched into his touch, your moans growing louder with each thrust of his cock. Your cunt clamped down on him, milking his throbbing cock. Legs curling under your stomach, you spread them further apart, presenting yourself for his pleasure, rutting against his thrusting cock.

Your hips ground into his lap, riding his thick cock as he pounded into you relentlessly. He watched as your breasts bounced and shook with every harsh push under his tunic, his hand groping one while the other pinched and rolled your nipples from under the tunic.

With each thrust, you found yourself waking up more, your body responding to his touch and movements. You moaned loudly, your cries echoing throughout the room as he used you. Your cunt clenched tighter around his cock, milking him as he pounded into you. The feeling of his hands on your body, touching and groping you, sent shivers down your spine. You felt desired, wanted, and needed by him. And you loved every second of it.

"I'm close, bunny," He groaned. Eris was close, so very close. His balls tightened, his thrusts became erratic as he fucked you senseless. His cock throbbed inside you, ready to explode. "Tak me, take all of me!"

He could feel the pressure building, the impending release just moments away. With a final, powerful thrust, he came, filling you with his hot release. His roar of pleasure filled the room as he emptied himself into you.

"High Lord-" You whined, feeling his hot cum deep inside you, panting softly, a line of sweat on you both. Eris panted, breathing heavily as his fire calmed down.

As the last waves of pleasure washed over him, Eris collapsed onto you, panting heavily. His fire slowly receded, leaving behind a satisfied smile on his face as he watched you twitch from his warm cum inside you. He stroked your cheek gently, his fingers tracing your features lovingly.

"You're amazing," He murmured, kissing your forehead before rolling off you. He pulled you close, tucking you safely against his chest as he lay there, spent but content.

He pulled you on his chest, "Thank you, sweet bunny... I needed that." He sighed, his fingers going down your body, finding your core to stroke softly, "Now, let me help you cum."

A low chuckle rumbled from Eris' chest as he felt you squirm above him. His fingers found their way to your sensitive clit, beginning to stroke it gently. He knew just how to touch you, how to pleasure you, how to make you release. "I'll take good care of you, my sweet bunny," he whispered, nipping at your earlobe as his fingers continued their delicious assault on your clit.

"Er... Eris..." You moaned his name, arching into his touch as his fingers pressed into you, filling your cunt, his cum forming a white ring around his fingers. His fingers were skilled, knowing exactly how to tease and please you. They delved deeper into your cunt, curling to hit that sweet spot inside you. "Please... Please..."

"Does my bunny like this?" He asked, his voice husky with desire. He continued, his thumb circling your clit as he drove you closer to the edge as you nodded and begged for more.

Eris continued to finger your dripping cunt, his movements steady and sure. His thumb circled your swollen clit, the stimulation driving you wild. Every thrust of his fingers brought you closer to the edge, your walls clenching around him as you neared your climax.

"Come for me, my sweet bunny," he cooed, his breath warm against your neck. He quickened his pace, driving you towards your orgasm.

You came hard, your whines echoing through the room as your cunt spasmed around his fingers. Your walls clenched tightly as wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your body. Your hips bucked against his hand, chasing the intense sensations. "Good girl," he murmured, kissing your neck as he withdrew his fingers from your quivering cunt.

Eris kissed your cheek gently, "Why don't you relax and prepare to rest up, huh, bunny?" He chuckled deeply, seeing your dropping eyes, watching you yawn softly, "I'll clean you up. You shouldn't be up at this hour." He cooed, massaging your shoulder with his clean hand, kissing your nose softly before making his way to your shared bathroom.

{General Taglist - @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot @dee-writes-smut @adalia-jaycee @anarchiii @alwayshave-faith @velarisnightsky444 @minnieoo}

{Eris Taglist- @fxckmiup @slut4acotar @secret-third-thing @shadowsingers-mate @fieldofdaisiies @st4r-girl-official}

#erisweek2024 #acotar #acotar series #acomaf #acosf #acowar #eris acotar #eris fanfic #eris vanserra fluff #eris vandaddy #pro eris vanserra #eris vanserra #autumn court #high lord eris #eris x reader #eris smut #eris vanserra smut

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thatbloodymuggle · 2 months

Text

MASTERMIND (iii)

THREE - COLOR THEORY

SUMMARY: A child of light and dark, you are the Night Court’s best kept secret. After decades spent in hiding, you yearn to stretch your wings. But you quickly learn that freedom comes with a price, as you find yourself trying to outfox the fox in his own den.

PAIRING: eris vanserra x reader

WORD COUNT: 11.5k

SERIES MASTERLIST

WARNINGS: language, descriptions of violence, smut, oral (m receiving), thigh humping, fingering

You have always wondered if being born from Light and Dark was a blessing, or a curse. On one hand, it has granted you the ability to navigate life’s morally gray areas; to question everything and listen to opposing thoughts and ideologies. But on the other hand, your existence was born from a violent affair—and you can’t help but wonder if that Dark inevitably lives within you, shielded by the Light.

Right now, more than ever, you believe the latter may be true.

It’s been three days. Three days since you woke up to an empty bed beneath you and guilt weighing heavy atop. Three days since you self-sabotaged your entire mission. Three days since you reveled in the comfort of your enemy’s arms.

You thought the regret would be at its worst the morning after; you figured it would pass with time. But with each day, each hour, each minute that ticks by, breathing becomes just a little bit harder. You can’t even find peace in sleep; not when you are kept awake by images of Eris’s lust-filled gaze and the inevitable heartbreak on Mor’s face. If your own self-stirred panic isn’t enough, you also have the note that Eris left atop his empty pillow to worry about:

I apologize for leaving so soon, Little Bird, but I have some business to attend to. Do write back when you’d like to take a tour of the library. Don’t miss me too much.

The bastard left the proverbial ball in your court. Typically, you like being in control. But with your current frenzied mental state, the last thing you need is yet another convoluted layer to worry about.

Needless to say, you are about one misstep from exploding.

The crackling embers of the fireplace in your cabin stare back at you tauntingly. You hover your hands over the orange flames, letting the heat tickle your skin until the burning becomes too much, and you are forced to pull away. You wait a beat, before raising your shaky hands over the fire once again. Albeit brief, the pain seems to be the only escape from the assault of your traitorous thoughts. Yet, with each retreat of your hands, the empty paper and pen sitting on your bedside table glare at you expectantly. They seem to radiate a cruel impatience—as if Eris is slinking in the shadows, watching you.

Your hands begin to burn again, and you abruptly pull them away. Before you can raise them over the flames once again, you feel the scraping of talons against the cobblestone barrier of your mind.

You want nothing less than to talk to Rhys right now. But you know that if you leave him hanging, he will worry. Reluctantly, you let your walls crumble down, and a shiver runs up your spine as you feel his aura creep in.

Everything okay? His voice sings across your mental connection.

You gnaw on your bottom lip until you wince, swiping your tongue across the droplet of blood.

I don’t know, you relent.

He doesn’t respond immediately. But you can picture the cinch between his brows as he mulls over your answer. Be honest with me. I won’t share with the others, if you don’t want me to. Promise.

Your fingers dance over the flames once more. You can’t possibly divulge what has transpired thus far. But you certainly can’t hold it all in without going mad. The fire burns your skin, and you jolt back before responding.

Promise?

He replies instantly, Yes.

You start talking before you can convince yourself otherwise. I think I may be getting a little too close.

Your response is simple, straight to the point. But something about it feels…heavy.

What do you mean ‘too close’?

You’re careful not to let your thoughts, your memories of what happened in that cottage, to breach your mental connection with Rhys. You stare into the orange flames, admiring how intertwine, before replying.

The ‘seduction from afar’ plan may need to be revised. I’m in too deep to keep my distance for three weeks.

Your heart thumps in your chest as you wait for his response. You subconsciously twirl the silver ring on your thumb, never peeling your eyes away from the blazing fire. Rhys doesn’t say anything for a while. Just as fear begins to creep in, his voice sounds through your mind.

That’s fine. You jolt at his response, and he continues. Between you and me, I don’t care what you have to do. Make him fall in love with you, break his heart, it doesn’t matter. Once you’re out of there, you’ll never have to see him again.

You physically flinch as the reality of your situation hits you like a truck. Three weeks, and you’ll never see him again. Three weeks, and it’ll all be done—there will be no witness to whatever fling you have, no one left to tell the tale. No one ever has to know. Mor never has to know.

Okay, you finally respond simply.

Just tread carefully, you can hear the strain in his voice.

You nod robotically, even though he can’t see you. With a quick farewell, you put up your mental barriers. You stare into the flames for a few minutes longer, until the mere sight burns your irises.

“Compartmentalization,” you mumble to no one in particular.

Finally, you peel yourself off the dust-covered floor in front of the fire. Your legs are wobbly as you take methodical steps towards your bedside table. The empty paper and pen are quivering in anticipation as you approach. Your hand moves with a mind of its own as you pick up the waiting pen and scribble onto the paper.

Does the offer still stand?

The second you set the pen back down onto the table, the paper vanishes into thin air from your fingertips. You wring your hands together as you sit down on the side of your bed and wait. You’re not sure what you’re waiting for exactly, but you wait.

“Compartmentalization,” you say it again. And you say it a few more times. Enough to trick your mind into believing it and slow the frantic beat of your heart. Enough to don a mask of apathy as a crack sounds outside the front door followed by a sharp knock.

You twist the silver ring around your thumb once more before standing, this time on steady legs. Your steps are calm and calculated as you tread towards the door. You take one last deep breath, ridding your body and mind of any residual apprehension. With your lips curled into a beguiling grin, you swing the door open.

Eris’s smile is almost as wicked as yours as he scans you from head to toe, drinking in your appearance.

“I was beginning to think you were avoiding me, Little Bird,” he smirks.

You pick at your nails nonchalantly, “I’m flattered I’ve been on your mind, but I’m not sure I can say the same.”

His vicious grin only widens, “You wound me, Birdie. But I must admit,” he dips down and lowers his voice to a whisper, “I quite like your bite today.”

You arch a brow and don’t so much as flinch at his proximity, “Are you a masochist, Eris Vanserra? Or does chasing after disinterested females turn you on?”

Your thinly veiled insult only eggs him on. It takes everything in you not to shrink back as he lowers his lips so they graze the shell of your ear.

“Are you sure you want to go down this road? Because last I remembered, you were a whimpering little mess—”

His sentence is abruptly halted by your fingers pinching his lips shut. His eyes widen in incredulity at your childish action, and a giggle bubbles in your throat at the sight. You release him and walk briskly past, leaving him dumbfounded behind you.

“Well, are we going or not?” you snark over your shoulder.

He falls into step beside you, and you jolt as he places his hand on the small of your back. His touch gentle, but commanding. You don’t dare look at him as he warns, “I’ll let this one slide, Little Bird. But don’t forget that my teeth are much sharper than yours,” he wraps his arm tightly around your waist, “And I’m not afraid to use them.”

Your rebuttal is cut short as he pulls you to his chest before winnowing you both out of the woods.

The Forest House is just as remarkable as you remembered it—even more so in the sunlight. The tangles of ivy enveloping the red-brick walls are a vibrant green, and the intricate details of the gate itself seem to glisten underneath the sun’s rays. However, unlike your last visit, this time sentries line nearly every inch of the expansive walls. Their taut faces and intimidating steeds exude a sense of savagery that makes your skin prickle.

Eris’s hand retreats to its spot on the small of your back, and you jump slightly as you are reminded of your purpose for being here. Reluctantly, you peel your eyes away from the curvature of the golden gates and cock your head towards his. The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement, and you can tell he’s holding back a comment from the twitch in his lips.

“Spit it out,” you feign annoyance.

He shakes his head with an airy laugh, “It’s nothing. I just like the way you look at the world—all wide-eyed and bushy-tailed, like you’re experiencing life for the first time. It’s cute.”

You frown.

His comment, while innocent, puts you on edge for two reasons. The first, and the one that really makes your skin crawl, is his incessant ability to unknowingly point out parts of yourself that belong to you, rather than Athena Ellesmere. With each destination he takes you to, you do feel like you’re experiencing the world for the first time. But that’s not Athena—and with each of your quirks he reveals, he’s one step closer to sniffing you out entirely.

The second, well…

“Cute?” you deadpan.

His teeth flash as his grin widens, “Cute.”

You’re not cute. You’re supposed to be sexy, confident, untouchable—a femme fatale. Not fucking cute.

You know your bubbling frustration is futile, so you simply narrow your eyes into a warning glare and march towards the golden gates. You know that the pout on your face isn’t helping your case—but you can’t seem to wipe it off. The sentries shift on their steeds as you approach but return to their stationed positions when Eris falls into step beside you. They don’t so much as look in your direction as you pass through the gates.

“Once you are formally welcomed inside the gates, you are free to come and go as you please,” Eris’s fingers brush yours as he speaks, “So if you are in further need of the library after today, you can return.”

Your ears perk up at this, but you nod coolly. He leads you around the side of the large mansion, away from the front door, and lowers his voice to a murmur, “But I would prefer if you’d let me accompany you, if you should visit again.”

“Why? Want me all to yourself?” you snort.

He wears a playful grin, but his eyes are vapid.

“You know I do,” he teases, “But the beauty of this place is deceptive. Darkness lurks behind these walls, Little Bird.”

A shiver crawls up your spine, but you swiftly retort, “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“I know,” his voice is thick with trepidation.

You bristle at the way he speaks about you like he knows you. Yet again.

His hand returns to the small of your back as he leads you towards a small door, almost completely covered by thick ropes of vine. If he wasn’t guiding you, you would’ve completely missed the hidden entrance. You suck in a breath in anticipation as he pushes it open, wood creaking against rusted hinges. You hide your curiosity as you take in the burgundy carpet lining a hallway so long, you can’t see its end. The walls are built of centuries-old limestone, the darkness illuminated by flame torches.

You peel your eyes away from the hallway as Eris leads you to the left, down a steep, spiral staircase. Just like the hallway, it is built entirely of dark stone which holds a red hue thanks to the flickering flames of torches lining the walls. He steps in front of you, and you follow his lead silently as he leads you down the stairs. The steep wind of the steps is dizzying as you descend downwards, deep into the ground below, and into the heart of the tunnels of the Forest House. With each floor you pass, you picture Azriel’s map of the house. Finally, Eris takes a turn at the ninth floor you’ve descended. You follow closely behind and note the change in architecture. Gone are the limestone walls, and in their place, deep mahogany wood lined with a variety of paintings: family portraits, Autumn Court landscapes, still life’s. This hallway is also dimly lit with torches, but it holds a peculiar warmth unlike the others.

“How big is this place?” you voice echoes down the expansive hallway.

You know exactly how big it is. But you can’t stand the eerie silence.

Eris’s voice rumbles lowly, “Miles long. It would take you half the morning to walk from one end to the other.”

Your eyes widen in mock astonishment—as if you don’t know that it is exactly 4.2 miles long.

“And you don’t get lost?” you ask.

“You forget I’ve had centuries of practice, darling,” he chuckles.

You open your mouth to fire another question, but a squeal escapes instead as you feel something wet bump against your right hand. You snatch your hand to your chest and look down to find a pair of beady, vermillion eyes staring back at you. You instinctively inch closer to Eris as you stare down at the creature in awe.

You know what smokehounds are. And you know that Eris owns a whopping twelve. But you weren’t quite prepared for the predator standing before you. Its fur is gray and sleek like smoke, and its eyes are the color of blood. Your initial fear fades as you realize, despite their crimson hue, its eyes are not filled with malice—but rather, curiosity. You cautiously lower the hand clutched to your chest back to your side, and slowly stretch your fingers apart. Its wet nose bumps your hand again, and you shiver at the tickling sensation as it sniffs you. A giggle bubbles in your throat as it sticks its tongue out and licks between your fingers. You tentatively stroke the side of its face with your knuckles.

“She likes you,” Eris hums beside you.

The smokehound nuzzles into your side, and you stroke the top of her head with your full hand. You know they are vicious creatures—you’ve read about how they can race as fast as the wind to sniff out any prey. But the creature standing below you seems as harmless as a fly.

“What’s her name?” you ask as you scratch softly between her ears.

“Sage. She’s my oldest,” his hand joins yours as he strokes the back of her neck.

“I never pictured smokehounds to be so…affectionate,” you wonder aloud, curiosity piqued as she licks your hand again.

Eris laughs softly, “They aren’t. She must be drawn to you—the same way I am.”

You can feel his gaze on you but refuse to look in his direction as you fight the blush crawling up your neck. He withdraws his hand, and you follow suit as you continue your walk down the hallway, this time with Sage by your side. She trots beside you, close enough that your fingertips brush the silken fur on her back and her side rubs against your dress. Even as you continue down the dimly lit hallway, you can’t take your eyes off the elegant creature walking alongside you.

You nearly slam into Eris as he halts abruptly in front of two large oak doors. Just as you regain your footing, you nearly lose it again at the sight before you.

There are seemingly endless rows of books reaching at least fifty feet tall. An ornate rug of red and gold covers the stone floor, and hundreds of flickering candles are suspended in midair. Vibrant green ivy, much like the kind you’ve seen outside, wraps around each shelf. To top it all off, the ceiling is a mosaic of crystalline windows shining golden rays of sunlight down below—some kind of enchantment, you presume, given that you are at nine floors underground.

“Wow,” you breathe. With your mouth agape and your eyes wide with wonder, you know that you are proving Eris’s earlier point. But right now, you couldn’t care less.

You wander towards the shelves, Sage trailing behind you, and run your fingers gently along the spines of the books. The smell of parchment and wood is intoxicating, and your heart swells with joy as you scan the collection of classics. Some are so old; you presume they must be original prints. Others look brand new, completely untouched.

One binding in particular catches you attention—well, ‘binding’ is generous, considering the book is barely hanging together by a thread. You carefully pull out the amethyst-colored cover and turn it over. Shattered Realms.

“Is this an original copy?” you question, unable to peel your eyes away from the novel.

Eris looks over your shoulder, “Yes. It’s been passed down in my family for generations—although it originally belonged to the Night Court.”

Your lips twitch with amusement, but you force down a laugh at the irony. You glance at him over your shoulder, “How did it end up here?”

He takes a step closer to you, his chest inches away from pressing up against your back, and runs a finger over the binding of the book in your hands. His scent of sandalwood and nutmeg invades your senses.

“Many centuries ago, my grandfather was in a bit of a tiff with the Night Court High Lord at the time. He stole it during their feud.”

You smile softly and make a mental note to retrieve the book before you return to Velaris as a little souvenir for Rhys. You carefully place the book back in its spot before continuing your exploration. Eris follows closely behind, whereas Sage has found comfort in front of the fireplace.

“Do you have any favorites?” you wonder aloud as you come to the end of the aisle.

“I have many,” his hand brushes yours.

You hook your pinky finger over his, “Care to share?”

“Any particular genre you’re interested in?” he curls his finger against yours.

You bite your bottom lip in thought as you mull over the options. Asking you to pick a favorite genre is like asking a mother to pick her favorite child.

“I’ve recently been on a bit of a reading kick of philosophical essays,” you tap a finger to your chin in thought, “Mind-body dualism, introspection, all the good stuff,” you drawl.

Eris’s brows raise in surprise, “I never would’ve thought that philosophy pairs well with filthy little romance novels.”

Your eyes narrow into a glare, and you move to snatch your pinky away from his, but he swiftly intertwines your fingers. He’s dragging you down the aisle before you can protest, and you stumble to keep up with his swift feet. Eris leads you past rows of bookshelves, up a spiral staircase, and past even more rows of books. He doesn’t give you a chance to admire the collection of literature as he tugs you along. Finally, you halt at a small alcove decorated with stained glass windows.

Your eyes widen as you take in the collection of books written by countless ancient philosophers. But you force on a façade of indifference, careful not to fuel his already bursting ego even more. You hold your breath as he leans over you and pulls a book at least six inches out of your reach. The binding is tattered—not as badly as the original copy of Shattered Realms, but enough that you can tell it’s at least a few centuries old. He holds it out expectantly, and you tentatively grab it from his waiting hands.

“I think you might find this to your liking,” he grins, “A collection of Tydeus’s correspondences with Lady Baldwin. It’s not an original copy, but surely the closest to it.”

He releases your other hand, and you clench your jaw to conceal your excitement. You’ve been searching for a copy of this for years now—ever since you stumbled across the collection of the ancient philosopher Tydeus’s works in the Velaris library. Your mother used to love reading the copy of his correspondences in the Day Court libraries, but that feels like a lifetime ago now.

“Tydeus’s ideologies are a bit archaic for my taste. But I suppose this will do,” you lie through your teeth. Eris chuckles lightly, observing the curious glint in your eyes and the way you hold the book with a delicate reverence.

“There are wards around the house which prevent these books from leaving the premises, so unfortunately, I cannot loan it to you. And given your past thieving tendencies, I’m not sure I would want to,” he teases as he leans against the shelve of books.

Well, there goes Rhys’s solstice gift.

Your lips dip into a frown, “I know Vanserras are cruel, but I never imagined you’d be this twisted—dangling one-of-a-kind copies of ancient literature over my head only to pull them away.”

“Don’t fret, Little Bird,” he purrs, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, “You can read to your heart’s desire—inside the house, of course. I’ll show you to a place with a bit more…privacy.”

You gulp as his fingers linger against your cheekbone. His touch is electrifying, and you fight the instinct to chase after it as he pulls away.

“Okay,” you whisper, “Is it alright if I pick out a few more?”

His teeth flash as he observes the effect he has over you.

“Take your time. I’ll be keeping Sage company.”

He brushes past you, and you remain frozen in place for a moment. Get it together, you scold yourself internally. You will your mind to empty as you continue your stroll down hundreds of rows of books. You try your very best not to pick up everything that catches your eye—only those which really pique your interest. But even so, you quickly find yourself with a stack of books so high they nearly reach your chin. Your arms tremble underneath the weight, but still, you add a couple of atlases to your stack for good measure. You have no intention of reading them—but Athena Ellesmere would.

Finally satisfied with your collection, you walk slowly back towards the front of the library. You rest your chin on the top of the stack, careful not to topple the tower of books. The winding staircase proves to be a challenge, and you nearly stumble twice. But by some miracle, you make it down unscathed, and approach the blazing fireplace.

Eris lounges on a couch with Sage on the ground beneath him. He scratches her ears nonchalantly as he flips through his own book. His neck cranes at the sound of your uneven footsteps, and a roaring laugh fills the room when he lays eyes on you.

It’s a sight he wishes will be forever imprinted in his memory—your arms wobbling underneath a stack of books nearly as tall as you, and your flushed cheeks peeking out on top.

“Some help would be appreciated,” you hiss.

He sets his book down and glides over, taking half the stack from your arms. You nearly moan in relief at the literal weight lifted off your shoulders.

“A few more, huh?” he taunts with a wily smirk.

“A few means a small number. Comparative to your collection, yes. A few,” you grit your teeth.

“Whatever you say, Little Bird. Although I except a thorough review of each,” he sings.

Eris balances his half of the stack in one arm and wraps his other around your waist, pulling you tight to his chest. You save your own stack from nearly tipping over with a stumble. You aren’t afforded a chance to protest as he winnows you both away, leaving Sage sleeping peacefully in front of the fire.

This time, you aren’t able to save the stack from spilling out of your arms as you land in a new room. Much to your displeasure, Eris’s pile of books is fully intact in his arms. You drop to your knees with a huff and begin collecting the books strewn about a patterned, crimson carpet.

“You’re a clumsy one, aren’t you?” he taunts from above you.

Your head snaps upwards and you open your mouth to retort but pause as you take in the new surroundings. Much like the library, this room holds a golden glow highlighted by swirling patterns of golds and reds along the walls. You can feel another fire blazing behind you, and just past the deep-seated sofa in front of you lies an enormous canopy bed. It suddenly clicks—you are in Eris’s private chambers.

You cock a brow at the sight and a smirk tugs at your lips, “You know, if you wanted to get me in your bed all you had to do was ask.”

He sets down his stack of books on a small, wooden table in front of the couch and reaches a hand down to you expectantly. You tentatively place your hand in his, and he raises you up from the ground, pulling you to his chest with a sultry smile.

“Is that an offer, darling?” his breath tickles your neck as he dips down to your ear.

Your cheeks flush as he caresses your jawline with his thumb. You clench your thighs as you are reminded of how his fingers felt inside you, dripping in your arousal. But before you can melt into his touch, you raise your lips to his ear and croon, “I’m not that easy. You’ll have to work harder than that, Fox.”

He presses his nose against your temple and groans, the vibration of it sending a tantalizing chill up your spine. Just as easily as he’s able to get you flustered, so are you able to drive him up the wall.

You pull away from him, ignoring his whine of protest. He is absolutely shameless in his desire for you, and the thought alone makes your gut churn with delight.

You gather your stack of books from the ground and carefully place them beside the other half on the wooden table. You sift through the titles before finally settling on the Tydeus copy Eris recommended. You don’t so much as glance in his direction as you take a seat on the couch and kick off your heavy boots. The fire is just close enough that the flames warm your skin, and you all but sink into its comfort. You can feel Eris’s eyes on you, but you continue to ignore him as you stretch your legs out across the velvet expanse and open the ancient book. You aren’t even through the first page when you feel Eris’s hands on your calves.

You squeal as he raises your legs, giving himself space to sit beside you, before lowering them again so they are draped over his lap. You glare at him over your book, but he ignores your malice as he leans forward and picks his own book from the pile on the table. He leans back in his seat, his legs spread beneath yours, as he opens the book—a rare biography of one of the original Valkyries. Your own book sits limply in your hands as you study his profile—the plump of his lips, the shift of his jaw. You can’t help but admire the freckles dusted across the bridge of his nose. He is incredibly handsome, which simultaneously makes your job easier, and all the more difficult.

“I know I’m gorgeous but try not to drool on my centuries-old book,” he hums nonchalantly, a knowing smirk tugging at his lips.

You raise your leg to kick him, but he firmly grips your ankle and sets it back onto his lap without so much as a glance in your direction. He doesn’t remove his hand, letting it rest on your leg. With a huff, you return to your book. You are halted, once again, this time by his wandering hand. He teasingly pushes up the skirt of your long dress, just below your knees, so he can rest his hand on your shin. Your breath hitches as he rubs circles into your calf with his thumb, massaging it gently.

Reluctantly, you succumb to the comfort of his touch and return to your book once more. You page through Tydeus’s correspondences with Lady Baldwin. Their letters begin simply enough. But you quickly find yourself immersed in their debate over morality. Whereas the Lady takes a relative stance, Tydeus takes on an absolutist one. As their back-and-forth shifts to the dichotomy of good and evil, you are eerily reminded of your own inner turmoil earlier that morning.

“Anything good so far?” you jump as Eris’s gravelly voice cuts through the comfortable silence.

You meet his inquisitive gaze and note how the flame of the fire reflects in the amber of his eyes.

“My mother would have loved this,” you reply.

She did love it. You remember how she used to read it constantly in the Day Court—you never thought you’d be able to get your hands on a copy of it again.

“Why is that?” he asks, curiosity laced in his tone.

You lower the book onto your lap, “She loved all of Tydeus’s works. She was a strong believer in the dichotomous division between ‘good’ and ‘evil’.”

Eris sets his own book down and rubs your leg with both of his hands.

“And what do you think?” he challenges thoughtfully.

You shrug, “I’m not sure. On the one hand, I think morality is relative—that individuals are not uniform, and thus form their own ideas about what is ‘good’ and what is ‘evil’. But then on the other, I used to believe that there are some things we universally categorize as one or the other.”

“You don’t anymore?” he counters

You bite your lip and avert your gaze to the fire. The anxiety you managed to dispel earlier that day starts creeping in. Your gut twists uncomfortably as you reply simply, “I’m not sure.”

His hands slow, noticing your shift in demeanor. He studies the furrow of your brows as you stare into the fire.

“I think it is not morality that dominates the situation, but the situation that dominates morality,” he counters after a few beats of silence.

“A moral relativist?”

“I don’t like labels,” he shrugs.

The vibrancy of the fire is burning your eyes, but you keep them trained on the flames as you reply, “I suppose I agree with that—the problem is, it’s not the answer I’m seeking.”

“And what answer are you seeking?”

You long to reach your hands out over the flames until the heat sears your skin. The déjà vu makes your stomach churn.

“It’s not so much an answer as a direction,” you speak softly to hide the quiver of your voice, “I wish there was some way to know if I’m moving in the right direction.”

He chuckles, “Which brings us back to the question of absolutism versus relativism.”

You peel your eyes away from the flame, and your eyes lock with his. They hold a certain understanding, as if he can see straight through you and into your soul. Your body moves with a mind of its own as you sit up and subconsciously inch closer.

“I suppose all we can really do is justify our actions for ourselves—and hope that others will agree with our division of morality,” you whisper.

His gaze darkens, and he bows his head towards you, “I think life is full of gray areas, and we can’t be faulted for how we choose to navigate them.”

His response strikes a chord deep within you. Your eyes flick down to his pink lips, just inches away from yours.

Compartmentalization be damned.

You lurch forward to close the gap, and he meets you halfway.

The moment your lips meet his, every ounce of worry is swept away from your mind. You barely register the thump of your book hitting the ground as his lips glide against yours. His taste is addictive—a sweet peppermint that you can’t seem to get enough of. Your nose bumps against his as you climb on top of him, your legs straddling his lap. You cup the side of his face with your hands, deepening the kiss. He grips the small of your waist, pulling you impossibly closer. He runs his tongue along your bottom lip: a question. Your mouth parts: an answer.

You snake one hand behind his neck and run your fingers through his crimson locks, tugging sharply. He groans, and just as he moves to deepen the kiss, you abruptly pull away.

His sounds of protest are silenced by your lips against the sensitive skin of his neck. You move tentatively at first, remembering how it felt to have his lips against your neck, and mimic his maneuvers. He tangles a hand in the hair at the nape of your neck, pushing you closer as a sign of encouragement. You become bolder, alternating between open-mouthed kisses, small nips, and swipes of your tongue. His groan of approval spurs you on, and you fiddle with the bottom of his tunic, pulling it up his chest. You draw back briefly to peel the shirt completely off his body before resuming your work.

“Who taught you how to do that?” Eris hisses as you suck harshly at the apex of his collarbone.

You grin at the blossoming purple hue on his pale skin and run your tongue over the spot soothingly, “A wily fox too clever for his own good.”

He pulls you back up, abruptly cutting your abuse of his neck short. You eagerly smash your lips against his once more and trail your hands down the expanse of his chest, dragging your nails lightly along his rigid abdomen. His hands loop around you and he swiftly yanks down the zipper of your dress. You eagerly shed the suffocating material, so it pools at your waist, exposing your bare chest to him. Eris moans at the sight of your peaked nipples and doesn’t hesitate to massage your breasts with his large hands. His lips trail down your neck, but before he has a chance to carry out the same treatment you’d given him, you slip from his grasp entirely.

Eris watches, stunned, as you slip off his lap and sink down onto your knees before him. His lips part as you nudge his knees apart, and lurch forward to trail open-mouthed kisses down his chest, to his abdomen, until you finally reach the waistband of his bottoms. He jolts as you brush your hand over the very obvious, and large, tent in his pants.

“Little Bird,” he mumbles as you palm over him, “You don’t have to do this.”

Your eyes flick up to his and you speak with conviction, “I want to.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he gulps and you all but drool at the sight. He nods once, and you begin fiddling with his belt buckle. His hands move to help you, but you swat them away. You make quick work of the fastenings, and slowly drag the material down his legs, inch by inch. You know he’s growing impatient by the clenching of his abdomen. You flash him a sultry smile as you finally pull the material from his legs, leaving him in his underwear. His hands move to the waistband, but you swat them away again.

“Patience is a virtue,” you muse before nipping the skin of his inner thigh. He inhales sharply, and shudders as you run your tongue over the same spot, soothing the ache.

“Using my own moves against me,” he croons, but the strain is evident in his voice, “I’m impressed, Little Bird.”

Your heart thumps in your chest as you graze your hands along the waistband of his underwear. You dip your fingers underneath, and your confidence falters slightly. He runs a hand through your hair soothingly, coaxing you to continue. Your keep your eyes trained on his as you inch the fabric down his thighs. He raises his hips and releases a sigh of relief as his erection slaps up against his stomach, free from the confining material. You toss the garment aside haphazardly and take in the sight of his complete bareness.

The first thing you notice is that he’s big—well, you think so, at least, considering you have nothing to compare him to. His dick is much thicker than you’d imagined, with veins branching upwards towards the tip which is a shade darker than the pink of his lips. You can’t help but wonder how it could possibly fit inside you. A blush paints the apples of your cheeks at the thought.

Eris notices your apprehension, and he curls a finger underneath your chin so your eyes meet his.

“Would you like me to talk you through it?” his voice is soft.

The amber of his eyes is warm, like honey. You nod shyly.

“Okay, darling. Can you wrap your hand around my cock?” the sweetness of his voice is a stark contrast to the dirtiness of the words tumbling from his lips.

You rest your left hand on his thigh and raise your right hand, delicately wrapping your fingers around his girth at its base. You hold him loosely, and he releases a pleasured sigh at your tentative touch.

“You can hold it a bit tighter, love,” he hums while stroking the shell of your ear.

You follow his direction with a nod.

“Now move your hand—”

You don’t give him a chance to finish as you slowly begin moving your hand over his cock, from the base to the tip. His lips part and he shudders at the motion.

“Good,” he rasps, “Now can you spit on it? Get it a little wet for me?”

Your cheeks flare, but you follow his request. You timidly lean forward and dribble over his tip, captivated by the way it mixes with the bead of precum before sliding down. You use your hand to spread it around, and the friction eases as your hand slides more freely.

“I think you’re a natural, Birdie,” he praises through a gasp, “Can you twist your hand for me a bit?”

You twist your hand in time with your strokes, and admire the way his face scrunches with pleasure. You squeeze a bit harder when you reach his base, and his hips twitch. Testing the waters, you slowly lean forward and stick your tongue out, licking over his tip. Eris grunts at the action, and you feel a bit more confident as you wrap your lips completely around the head.

A guttural moan escapes his lips as you suckle on the head, your hand continuously pumping his shaft. You pull off his tip, and your gut twists with desire at the string of saliva between the head of his cock and your lips. You lurch forward, flattening your tongue against the base and dragging it upwards, before wrapping your lips around the tip again in a teasing maneuver.

“Fuck,” he groans, “Can you take me a bit deeper?”

You nod, pupils blown. Your hand resumes its stroking movement as you slowly, tentatively, slide downwards. Your mouth burns from the stretch of his girth, but you breathe through your nose steadily. You take him in, inch by inch, until his tip hits the back of your throat, bringing tears to the corners of your eyes. You keep your hand around the base of his shaft, pumping and twisting the length you can’t fit.

“So good for me, Little Bird,” he moans. His right-hand digs into the fabric of the couch until his knuckles turn white, and his left brushes the hair out of your face. “Can you move your pretty little mouth for me?”

You slowly bob your head up and down, timing the strokes of your hand with the rise and fall of your lips. Tears spring to your eyes each time his tip hits the back of your throat and spit dribbles down the sides of your mouth, but any ounce of insecurity is washed away by the sinful noises tumbling from Eris’s lips.

“Can you use your tongue for me?” his voice is strained.

You flatten your tongue against his length as you bob up and down, swirling it around his length to the best of your ability.

“Look at me, love,” he gasps through an animalistic groan.

Your eyes flick up and you peer at him through your lashes. His pupils are blown and his lips parted, brows scrunched with a vulnerability you never imagined you’d see.

“You look so pretty with your lips wrapped around my cock,” he rasps, “Wish I could keep you like this forever.”

You hum around him, and he shudders at the vibration. He tangles a hand in your hair, guiding your movements but not pushing you, slowly increasing your pace. Tears begin rolling down your cheeks at the delicious burn in your jaw and the back of your throat.

His chest heaves as he pants, “So close. Just a little more.”

You move with a newfound vigor at his words, finding a rhythm that keeps the noises tumbling from his mouth. You raise your unoccupied hand to the base of his cock. Experimentally, you brush over his balls with your thumb, eliciting raucous moan from Eris. He twitches in your mouth, and you do it again while swirling your tongue in a prolonged sweeping motion around his length.

“Fuck, Little Bird. I’m—”

He halts midsentence with an earth-shattering groan as his cock twitches violently in your mouth. You slow your movements as he reaches his high, thick ropes of cum painting the back of your throat. You splutter at the feeling, but continue milking him, swallowing his load. You stroke him gently, your tongue rubbing along him in a coaxing manner, until his thighs jerk, and his length softens in your mouth. You inch off him, stroking a hand over his thigh soothingly, and press one last kiss to his tip before pulling off completely.

You glance shyly up at Eris, and your chest swells with pride as you find his head thrown back in pure bliss. You rake your nails softly against his thighs, peppering feather-like kisses over his abdomen. His head lulls down towards you, and your heart skips a beat at the carnal look in his eyes. His hands are gentle as he wipes away the tears staining your cheeks before swiping over your mouth, collecting the saliva staining your lips.

“You are an enigma, Little Bird,” he mumbles while intertwining your hands with his and pulling you back up.

Your dress falls from your waist to the floor as you rise, leaving you completely bare aside from your panties. He pulls you onto his lap and you eagerly straddle him, connecting your lips to his. He groans into your mouth at the taste of his own release on your lips.

“Good?” you breathlessly ask against his mouth.

He pulls away from your lips with a chuckle and trails kisses underneath your ear as he mutters, “I haven’t finished so quickly in centuries.”

Your eyes crinkle with pride.

His lips meet yours once again, and you marvel at the way you slot together like the final two pieces of a puzzle. Mimicking his earlier move, you run your tongue along his bottom lip and he grants you entry, allowing you to deepen the kiss. His hands run down the curve of your back before settling on your ass, exploring your soft skin. Your gut clenches at the arousal pooling in your panties.

“Would you like to try something new?” he murmurs against your lips.

You respond with an affirmative hum, and whine as he pulls away.

He grips your waist, lifting you off his lap as if you weigh nothing at all, before setting you back down so you straddle just his left thigh. You jolt as your clothed arousal presses against the bare skin of his thigh.

Eris rolls his thumb over your swollen lips and whispers tauntingly, “Are you horny, Little Bird? Do you need some release?”

You nod shamelessly.

“Get yourself off, then.”

Your brows pinch with confusion, but realization dawns over you as he digs his fingers into your ass cheeks, grinding your clothed cunt against his leg. Your lips part in a silent gasp at the wave of pleasure that rolls through you. He guides you as you set a steady rhythm, grinding your throbbing clit against his thigh. The friction is electrifying, but you need more. The thin barrier of fabric separating you from him is suffocating.

You whine pathetically, and he senses your desire. Eris pinches the flesh of your ass, and you lift your hips slightly. He removes his hands from behind you and you watch as they dip down between your thighs. You throb with anticipation as he hooks a finger underneath the fabric. Your arousal sticks to the flimsy material as he peels it aside, exposing your bare cunt.

“You’re dripping for me, darling,” he croons.

A long moan escapes your lips as you settle back down onto his thigh. With nothing separating you from him, you can feel how every ridge of his muscle stimulates your clit. He continues guiding you with his hands on your waist for a few seconds, before abruptly pulling away.

You pause, mouth agape, as he stretches his arms over the back of the couch. Your cheeks flare in a combination of frustration and embarrassment as he leans back in his seat with a coy smirk on his lips.

He arches a brow expectantly, “Go on.”

You desperately want to wipe the smug look off his face—but your lust, your need for release, is too strong. You brace your hands against his broad shoulders and begin moving again. You groan at the way your clit slides against his bare thigh.

“You like making a mess over my thigh?”

You nod obediently.

He jerks his thigh once underneath you, and you cry out at the sensation.

“I need words, Birdie,” he drawls.

You roll your hips against him desperately and pant between gasps, “I love it.”

He shakes his leg at a steady pace, and the additional stimulation sends you reeling.

“Yeah?” he coos, “Tell me how it feels.”

Your legs tremble as your clit catches against the tensing muscles of his thigh.

“Feels filthy,” you mewl.

He grips your chin firmly, directing your gaze to his, before his arm returns to the back of the couch.

“Fitting for a filthy little girl, getting herself off on my leg,” he purrs, “I’m not even touching you and you’re a whimpering mess for me.”

His degrading words don’t even register, your mind clouded with desire. You can feel the tension building in your gut, and you pant with each roll of your hips. You try to increase your pace as you feel your high approaching, but your legs tremble underneath you, leaving that peak you so desperately desire just out of reach.

“Please,” your voice trembles.

Eris knows exactly what you want, but he taunts you, “Please what?”

A fat tear escapes the corner of your eye and rolls down your flushed cheeks.

Your bottom lip wobbles as you whimper, “Touch me, Eris. Please.”

He swiftly pulls you off his thigh and lays you down on the couch. He crashes his lips against yours, your teeth bumping at the force. Eris doesn’t give you a second to catch your breath as he trails his hand up your inner thigh before sliding his middle finger through your slick, from your entrance to your swollen clit. Unlike last time, he doesn’t waste time teasing as he promptly sinks his middle finger inside of you.

You cry out at the feeling of his finger deep inside you, and he curls it in response. He doesn’t hold back as he rubs your clit with his thumb while thrusting his finger, curling it against your g-spot with each maneuver. He latches his lips to your neck and sucks harshly while his unoccupied hand flicks over your peaked nipples.

Your mind whirls at the sensation—the feeling of him all over you. It’s almost too much, having him everywhere. You desperately claw at his back, searching for something to stabilize you.

Your stomach coils as you feel your high approaching again. He can feel you clench around his finger, and he groans against your skin, “You gonna cum for me, love? Finish all over my hand?”

Another tear rolls down your cheek, “Yes,” you blubber, “’M so close.”

“Let go, Little Bird,” he coaxes while slipping another finger inside of you.

The added stretch sends you over the edge. You all but scream as shockwaves of pleasure roll through your body. Your toes curl and your nails dig into his back as your vision spots. His fingers slow, but he keeps rubbing your clit as you ride through your high. He continues until your hips jerk from the overstimulation, and your hands go limp around his neck. You wince as he pulls his fingers from you and watch through hooded eyes as he sucks his fingers into his mouth, licking up every last drop of your arousal. Your chest heaves as you catch your breath, your mind spinning in a post-orgasmic haze.

Eris softly strokes your cheek with the back of his hand before dipping down and capturing your lips with his. This time, the kiss is slow—no bumping teeth or clashing tongues. You wrap your fingers around his wrist, relishing in the intimacy of it all, until he pulls away.

An airy laugh passes through your lips as he rests his forehead against yours.

“You’ll be the end of me, Little Bird,” Eris mumbles. He places a chaste kiss on the tip of your nose before collapsing on top of you. You grunt at the weight, and he shifts over enough so that he isn’t restricting your breathing, but his bare body remains draped over yours.

“The end is but a beginning in disguise,” you tease as he nestles his nose against your cheek.

He chuckles, his breath tickling your neck.

“How were you made so wise?” he muses.

“Wisdom isn’t born, Fox. It’s learned,” you trace your fingers along the arm draped over you, “And I have a lot more living to do before I can even come close to it.”

“Well, I think you’re plenty wise,” he curves a finger underneath your chin and tilts your head towards his.

Your nose is millimeters apart from his as you gaze into his amber eyes. Their golden hue is vibrant, much like his lopsided smile. But suddenly, something inside them dims, and the corners of his lips twitch downwards. Your brows furrow as you note the subtle change.

“What’s wrong?” you whisper, brushing back his crimson locks.

Eris shakes his head, “It’s nothing.”

You quirk a brow, “Clearly not.”

His hardened stare doesn’t stray from your eyes, but it seems to be searching for something. A chill crawls up your spine at his scrutinizing gaze, as if he’s trying to read your darkest thoughts. You’re suddenly aware of how exposed, how vulnerable you are to him right now—both physically and emotionally.

“Your eyes…” he pauses, as if searching for the right words, before continuing, “Do you remember the first night we met?”

The crinkle between your brows deepens, “How could I forget?”

He wets his lips before replying, “I told you your eyes were familiar.”

Fuck.

You pray that he doesn’t feel the uptick of your heart and continue stroking his arm steadily.

“I just realized,” he continues, “Who they remind me of.”

Panic washes over you, but your expression doesn’t falter, and you maintain your soothing touch.

“Oh?” you hum nonchalantly, “Who may that be?”

Eris shifts his gaze away from the eyes in question, and instead watches the rise and fall of your bare chest.

“A woman I knew a long time ago,” he finally replies.

You continue threading your fingers through his hair as you contemplate your next words. You are breeching unfamiliar territory, and one wrong step could doom you.

“Was she important to you?” you ask cautiously.

He doesn’t respond for a while, and his body is tense over yours. You wait with bated breath for his reply, your curiosity growing with each passing second.

“I don’t know.”

It’s not what you were expecting—but you aren’t sure what you were expecting, exactly.

You mull over his response, nibbling on your bottom lip in thought. Pressing him further feels like a violation—not only of his vulnerability, but of Mor’s. But curiosity is gripping you like a vice. This is the first time in a week you’ve gotten him close to talking about the Night Court, you justify to yourself, don’t let the opportunity slip through your fingers.

“May I ask what happened?” you inquire tentatively.

He grunts and rests his head in the crook of your neck, “It’s not exactly a bedtime story, darling.”

You frown, unsure how to press him further without raising suspicion.

He must notice your disappointment as he sighs, “I can practically hear those gears turning in your head, Little Bird. Would you really like to know?”

You nod. He traces shapes over the expanse of your stomach as he contemplates where to begin.

“Many centuries ago, my father arranged for my marriage to a daughter of the Night Court,” he speaks slowly, “It was purely political—a chance to strengthen the alliance between our courts.”

This is so wrong, you think to yourself. But you make no move to stop him.

“She did not want the union. So, the night before the wedding, she escaped—into the arms of another male, hoping that if she tarnished her…purity, the wedding would be called off.”

Tears prick your eyes as you know exactly what’s coming next, but you blink them away.

“Her father was—is—a cruel man. As cruel as my father,” the steadiness of his voice falters, but he continues, “When he found out what she’d done, he tortured her with a brutality unlike any I’ve witnessed. He left her, stripped naked, at the border of our court, with a sign that she was ours to deal with.”

You’re grateful for his sparing of the details, because you’re not sure you’d be able to hold yourself together.

“I found her that morning, while out with my guards,” he stops, and for a moment you don’t think he will continue. But he releases a deep sigh, and barely speaks above a whisper, “I demanded them not to touch her.”

Anger bubbles in the pit of your stomach, and it takes everything in you not to scream. You feel nauseous, the reality of your predicament suddenly sobering—the reality that you’re lying naked on a couch with a man who left your sister for dead.

“If I or any of my guards touched her, she would have been stuck in Autumn—doomed to a life she did not want, according to my court’s laws. If I had…” his voice trembles ever so slightly, “If I had touched her, my father would have killed her on the spot. So, I left her there. I knew her…her friends would come save her. But it was not a decision I wanted to make.”

The fury trembling in your bones settles, and your mind reels over his recount of the events. This is not the version of the story you’ve heard from Cassian, Rhys, and Azriel. He could be lying—but what reason would Eris have to lie to you, when he is blissfully unaware of your relation to Mor? More than that, you’re unable to ignore the sincerity, the distress in his voice.

“Do you regret it?” you whisper so quietly; you’re surprised he can hear you.

“No,” his response is immediate, “Not for a minute. I gave her a chance to live. Even if she doesn’t see it that way. But I’ll never be able to get that image out of my head…of her pleading for help, and me being unable to grant it.”

Your mouth is dry and you’re sure he can feel the thundering of your heart. Your head is a muddled mess, to say the least.

“Gray areas,” you whisper simply.

We can’t be faulted for how we choose to navigate them, his earlier words ring through your mind. But not faulting him feels like the gravest betrayal you could commit.

A humorless chuckle tumbles from his lips as he echoes you, “Gray areas.”

His head sinks further into the crook of your neck and he runs his thumb soothingly over your abdomen, unknowingly combatting the pounding of your head as you process the onslaught of new—and unexpected—information.

“Do you still align with the Night Court?” you change the subject boldly but keep your tone nonchalant.

Fortunately, he doesn’t seem fazed by your question. Unfortunately, he doesn’t entertain it either.

“I like to keep my business separate from the bedroom,” he rasps against your neck, and you shudder at the tickle of his breath.

You purse your lips into a humorless smile, “Compartmentalization.”

“Forgive me, darling,” he muses, the seriousness of his tone gone, “But I can’t bring myself to discuss pompous High Lords while lying atop a beautiful, naked female.”

“You think I’m beautiful?” you tease half-heartedly.

He raises his head from your shoulder and looks down at you, the fox-like grin that had momentarily disappeared back, “I don’t think, I know,” he brushes his nose along your jawline, “You are the most delectable little thing I’ve seen in centuries.”

You feel his groin twitch against your upper thigh, and you roll your eyes, “You are insatiable, Eris Vanserra.”

He laughs and your heart sings at the sound, despite your reeling mind. He presses his chest against yours and stretches his arm out to the floor. You watch curiously as he rolls back into his previous position with your forgotten book in hand.

“I’m not quite sure if Tydeus qualifies as a bedtime story either,” you arch a brow.

He shrugs with a cheeky grin, “Well if you ever plan on getting through that mountain of books, you’d better get started.”

Eris holds it out expectantly, and after a moment of contemplation, you grab it with your free arm. You untangle your other hand from his hair and wrap it around his shoulder so you can balance the book on your stomach with both arms. He squirms over you, and you squeak he accidentally elbows the side of your breast.

“Careful,” you hiss.

“My apologies, Little Bird,” he coos as he finally finds a comfortable position on his side. One arm rests underneath your neck, while the other remains draped over your stomach behind the book. He drops his head onto your shoulder, so he has a full view of the book in your hands.

“I’ll let you know when to turn the page,” he nods his head against you, encouraging you to begin.

You squint but relent as you see his eyes moving back and forth, reading the text before him. You can feel him smiling below you as you focus your gaze on the page in front of you and pick up where you left off earlier.

You’re nearing the end of the page when Eris taps the side of your hand with his finger. He waits patiently for you to finish, and both of your heads shift when you flip the page. You fall into a comfortable rhythm. He taps your hand softly each time to indicate when he’s finished, and you alternate between who finishes first with each flip of the page. The rise and fall of your bare chest moves in time with his breath against your skin, and despite your nudity, you don’t feel an ounce of shyness.

As you read, you can’t help but think that this must be what heaven feels like: orange flames warming your skin as you lounge on a couch reading with a gorgeous, and very naked, male on top of you. But there’s just one tiny problem—the gorgeous, and very naked, male in question.

You feel your thoughts slip from the book and urge yourself to focus on Tydeus’s philosophy rather than dwell on your anxiety. You find yourself so immersed in one passage in particular, that you don’t notice the way Eris’s breathing slows, or how his head lulls against your chest. You reach the end of the page and wait patiently for his signal to continue. Your brows cinch as the seconds stretch into minutes. You look down and realize that the heir to the Autumn Court throne, in all his glory, is sleeping like a babe using your breasts as a pillow.

The book lays forgotten in your hands as you observe him. Even in his softest of moments, his features still hold a certain sharpness. But right now, he looks…peaceful. His cheek is pressed up against the flesh of your breast, and with his eyes closed, you notice that his eyelashes are much longer than you imagined. You long to trace your fingers over the freckles splattered across his nose, to feel the curve of his nose. It’s hard to think that the male before you is capable of any cruelty at all.

But he is.

And you’re gazing at him wide-eyed like a lovestruck teenager.

You wish you could speak to your sister right now. You’re not sure what you’d say—maybe nothing at all. Maybe looking into her eyes, which are so similar to yours, would reveal some hidden truth, buried deep under centuries of hatred. Or maybe they would hold disdain—disappointment directed at you, for rolling around with a male who hurt her deeply.

Eris snores softly, halting your train of thought. Your chest tightens and the flames of the fire start to burn your skin. You can’t stay here. More importantly, you have a job to do.

You set the book down on the floor beneath you, and cautiously shift your body. He grunts in his sleep, but doesn’t stir, as you carefully slip out from underneath him. You hiss as you tumble onto the ground below and pause to make sure he’s still asleep. His snores don’t falter, and you rise from the ground.

You make quick work of gathering your clothes, cringing at the dried arousal covering your inner thighs and panties. Just as you’re about to slip out of his chambers, you turn back to take one last glance at his sleeping form. You gnaw your lower lip, a pang of guilt tugging at your heartstrings. Against your better judgment, you search for a scrap piece of paper and pen to leave him a note, as he had done for you.

‘Till we meet again, Eris Vanserra

Your lips purse—simple, yet effective. You set the note down on the wooden table and drape a throw blanket over the sleeping male in case he has any unexpected visitors. You don’t dare look back as you creep towards the doors.

The creaking of the rusted hinges has you cringing as you ease them open, inch by inch, and peer into the hallway. It’s empty—thank the Mother—with the only movement coming from the flickering flames of torches on the walls.

You slink into the shadows as you move to your left down the hallway. Assuming Azriel’s map is correct, Eris’s office is two floors above his personal chambers, about one mile to the left. Despite the sizeable distance, you don’t risk winnowing for fear of someone catching you.

As you move along the walls, there’s a heavy weight on your shoulders. You can’t help but feel guilty for playing with his feelings and using them to your advantage—especially following the vulnerability he showed you tonight. But you remind yourself that, even in life’s dimmest gray areas, your loyalty to your family is unwavering.

Your heart thumps in your chest as you scale the winding staircase, keeping an eye out for any guards or lurking Vanserras. As you make your way down the next hallway, identical to the last, you move as swiftly as you can. The sooner you’re gone, the better—but you can’t deny the unease that grows with each step. On one hand, you hope you’ll find something to report back to Rhys. But on the other, you dread finding something that may contradict your image of Eris thus far.

Your steps are featherlight, and by the grace of the Cauldron, you make it to your destination without any setbacks. You press your ear against the door before slowing pushing it open.

The room is much like Eris’s chambers: swirling yellows and reds along the walls, a blazing fireplace, and a deep mahogany rug carpet covering the stone floor. In the middle sits a large, mahogany desk, covered in parchment. You creep forward, careful not to make any noise. You run your fingers along the polished wood of the desk, glancing over the papers. Nothing stands out as you shuffle through them. You search through his cabinets, rifle through the small bookcase in the back, and even check beneath the cushions of the chairs. All you can seem to find is polite, and uninteresting, correspondences with various courts, and menial to-do lists. You check each possible hiding place but come up short once again. There’s absolutely nothing here.

You’re not sure whether to feel relieved or frustrated—or perhaps, both. You glance at the grandfather clock in the corner of the dimly lit room. 3:06. You contemplate redirecting your search to Beron’s office, but you remember from Azriel’s map that it’s six floors down, and approximately two miles away on the opposite side of the house. If you were to go now, there’s a chance the sun would be rising by the time you’re ready to leave, leaving you defenseless without the dark of the shadows.

With a sigh, you check over the room once more to ensure nothing is out of place before making your exit. You leave just as you came, slinking into the shadows along the hallways as quiet as a mouse. As you navigate the winding tunnels, you wonder if Eris is still sleeping soundly by the fire, or if he’s aware of your absence. And as your thoughts drift to the crimson-haired heir, you find yourself moving faster—as if escaping the walls of the Forest House will erase him from your mind.

The wind is even more chilling than usual in the dead of night, you realize as you finally make it out through a side door. You make quick work of the courtyard, using the shadows to your advantage to avoid detection by the sentries littered throughout. When you finally make it out, you will the air to twist and fold around you, winnowing you back to your ransack cabin just as the sun begins to peek out from the horizon. Your limbs are tired, but your mind is racing. You know that sleep will not be kind to you. So, you kick off your boots and plop yourself on the dirty floor in front of the fireplace.

You find yourself just as you were before; hovering your hands over the orange embers until the burn becomes too much, and you are forced to pull away. Again. Over and over. As if the pain will grant you some sense of clarity. As if nothing has changed since you were last sat here. As if you aren’t falling further into the fox’s trap with no way out.

Being born of Light and Dark can be a difficult thing. But there are far worse evils in the world, some lurking just around the corner.

taglist:

@lilah-asteria @goldenmagnolias @myromanempiree @i-know-i-can @hannzoaks @olive-main @lilylilyyyyyy @batboygirlie @stuff-i-found-while-crying @moni-cah @6000-fandoms @melsunshine @roseodelle @rcarbo1

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #eris vanserra #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra smut #eris x reader #eris vanserra fanfic #eris acotar #mastermind

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itsphoenix0724 · 8 months

Text

All Things Vile (Eris x Reader)

Summary: A recon mission to the Autumn Court gets more heated than you intended. They say Autumn males fuck like they have fire in their veins-you guess you're about to find out.

Warnings: ROUGH SMUT (this is pure filth and I'm not sorry), kind of dark, oral (m!receiving) choking, bondage

Word Count: 2.7k

A/N: It's been a while since I wrote for him, been a while since I wrote in general since I'm adjusting back into my school life. Chapter 3 of MMOTI is drafted and will hopefully be released soon! But anyway here's a smutty Eris fic for all of you <3

The Autumn Court was ablaze in moonlit revelry. The scent of spiced cider and ale consumed the grove along with the smell of the blazing campfire. Fog weaved in and out of the shadow-drenched woods, urging the partygoers to follow its trail into the darkness. You could make out bodies against trees, males and females losing themselves in one another, as you jumped silently along the oak’s branches. It was a simple mission; Get in and get out, that’s what Rhys had said, and that’s what you fully intended on doing. Cloaked in darkness, mask pulled up to hide everything but your eyes, you found your target.

A drunken blush stained his pale cheeks, and the blood-red silk shirt he wore was unbuttoned so obscenely low you could see the dappling of freckles along his chest in the firelight. His auburn hair was unruly; the waves held down only by the circlet of gold leaves that marked him as the firstborn son of Autumn. His lips were stained from the wine he was sipping and his eyes had taken on a seductive half-lid as he somehow fixed his burning gaze straight onto you.

Fuck, Rhys was going to kill you.

Eris stood from his chair in one smooth motion, prowling towards your spot hidden in the woods like a mountain cat, amber eyes burning. You jump down from your tree, weaving through the branches like smoke to try to lose the lordling who’s hot on your tail. Nothing but the sound of your labored breathing and the sounds of footfalls echo through the dark wood. You just need to get to the border, Eris won’t have the gall to cross after you. You can see the green grass of Spring, the pastel pink of the cherry blossoms grotesquely clashing with the russet hues of the forest that currently surrounds you.

You can almost smell the sickly sweet air when a hand encircles your wrist like a hot brand.

The world tips and falls, the grass slipping out from under your feet as you’re dropped into a room, landing on all fours against a hardwood floor. Bands of fire wrap around your wrists and ankles, pinning you to the ground, not burning but holding you there. The tell-tale wave of nausea that means you’ve been winnowed somewhere quickly overwhelms you as you try not to heave onto the plush burgundy rug infront of you.

Eris has taken you to his room at Fir Hall, his private estate away from his life wrapped in court politics, you’re familiar with the home after many spy missions here. Your eyes fix on the Autumn Prince with a burning ferocity, and he does nothing but glare back down at you from where he looms above you.

“Well, well what has fallen into my trap,” He fixes you with a wolfish smile as he pulls down your mask, and your lips peel back into a snarl. “Hello Sweetheart,” he purrs as he tucks a loose hair behind your ears. “I’ve missed you, it’s very nice to see you again.” He tries to run a thumb over your bottom lip, but you snap your teeth in his direction like a feral animal and he wisely pulls his hand away.

“Bite me,” you growl out as Eris crouches down until he’s at eye level with you. A hound cornering a wild fox, it seemed the hunter had won tonight as he lets out a laugh that leaves a burning caress down your spine.

“Oh, I intend to.” He promises, stroking his hand along the back of your hair, pulling out the hair tie, and letting it fall around your face. “Now will you mind your manners?” He raises a copper brow, eyes dancing with amusement. The bond buried deep in your chest tries to wiggle free of its restraints, begging you to let it play with the other half of your soul.

“Never,” you vow to him even as the mischief in his eyes turns to longing. This is torture denying yourself of him.

But how could you not?

Beron is still High Lord, if you were to tie yourself to him you would have to abide by his rules. You would rather claw your own eyes out. And if your family ever found out, if Mor ever found out, the shame and guilt would burn more than the roaring fire in the hearth.

So you have this, you take every mission you can to Autumn and collect all the broken pieces and scraps that you can get. This is what you will allow yourself.

“I thought that would be the case,” Eris gets up and languidly strolls away from you, plucking the bottle of bourbon from the cabinet and pouring himself a drink. You watch with adept interest as his ring-clad fingers tighten around the crystalline glass, he strolls over to his bookshelf and plucks a well-loved novel off the dark shelf.

Then the bastard settles himself into one of the plush armchairs and starts to fucking read. He ignores you as though you’re nothing more than a potted plant in the corner, he doesn’t even so much as glance at you, fully enraptured in his novel. A few minutes pass when you clear your throat. Eris deigns to look bored as he lazily turns his head toward you.

“Yes?” He asks, propping the book against one knee and taking another sip of his whiskey. Your eyes track the movement of his throat involuntarily.

“Aren’t you going to do something?” You push, urging him with your eyes as you lift your head through the curtain of your hair. You hope your gaze communicates everything you cannot bring yourself to voice, fearing your body will refuse to allow you air if you try.

I love you, please don’t ignore me, I need you, play with me

He chuckles a dark sound and picks up his book again, pointedly flicking a page as the rubies on his hands glint in the firelight.

“I’m not in the business of playing with unwilling toys,” Eris supplies, purposely staring at the fire instead of you. “Perhaps I should call Rhysand to collect you and tell him I don’t appreciate being spied on. Perhaps, he will never send you back here.” His brows scrunch in frustration but you both know that the threat is empty. It seems he is tired of your games.

“What do you want?” You barely grind out, still refusing to relent to the signing inside your soul. “Do you want me to beg? Is that it? Princely bastard.” You practically spit, and faster than the blink of an eye Eris is in front of you, fisting your hair in one hand and tilting your chin to meet his smoldering gaze.

“Are you ashamed of me?” He questions, and you can see the vulnerability dancing in his eyes. You shake your head as the fire binding your wrists recedes and you move into a more comfortable kneeling position, hands now bound in front of you. He soothes his hand along your cheek again as your brows knit together. You thought that the two of you had a kind of understanding. You had no idea where this was coming from. “I tire of this ruse, my love.” If Eris notices the mournful look in your eyes he says nothing. He strokes a warm hand through your hair, admiring your eyes in the firelight. “Why don’t you show me how much you missed me huh?” The wolfish grin is back and you hum your agreement as he runs his thumb along your bottom lip again, pleased at your cooperation as he slides his finger into your mouth. He thrusts it into your mouth and as you teasingly run your tongue over the pad he lets out a moan that shoots straight to your core.

He undoes the belt at his waist, pulling his cock out with his hand, and your mouth waters at the sheer size of him.

“I’m going to fuck your mouth now,” he rumbles, pure authority and power radiating off of him. A glimpse at the future ruler he will become one day. You nod your enthusiastic consent as he grips the back of your head and thrusts into your mouth at a merciless pace. Your head empties as he hits the back of your throat, the hand cupping the back of your hair surprisingly gentle compared to the way he was brutalizing your mouth. “That’s a good girl, take me down your throat.” It spills out of his mouth like he can’t even control it as your eyes roll back in your head at his praise. Eris pushes your mouth all the way down to the base of his dick and holds you there for a few seconds as your nose connects with his pelvic bone. He’s relentless as he uses you for his pleasure and you think that he might bruise your vocal cords.

He spills down your throat as your binds dissolve into nothing, leaving behind a warm tingling sensation where the fire licked at your limbs.

You swallow what he gave you, opening your mouth in emphasis as whiskey eyes blow wide with lust. You’re drenched at the sight of his cock already stiffening again. He walks to the mountainous bed in front of you, making himself comfortable against the pillows.

“Come here pet.” He growls fisting his cock in his hand and crooking his fingers with the other. You start to rise to your legs on sore knees, but you freeze when Eris tuts–holding his hand out to stop you. “No. I want you to crawl to me.” The order wraps around you like warm silk, voice sliding against your bones. You lower yourself back down to the floor, humiliation burning hot on your cheeks as you sway your hips in what you hope to be enticing. He stops you quickly and you look up at him from under fluttering lashes. “Strip. Slowly.” Your face burns even hotter and Eris can’t take his eyes off you as you rise, slowly undoing every single buckle on your leathers and letting them fall to the floor, leaving you entirely exposed to him before climbing onto the bed. His body is so warm against your skin as he draws your mouth to his, the burning taste of cinnamon whiskey floods your mouth. He dominates you even here, claiming you as his tongue wrestles with yours. The moan that slips out of you comes out scratchy from the abuse of your throat, and in a flash, you’re below him as he grinds his hips into yours.

“Eris,” you whimper as his cock brushes against your folds. You need him to fill you to the brim, wanting him as close as possible. He shushes you gently as he bites at your pulse point, the only goal in his mind is to claim as he sucks dark marks into your neck.

You’ll surely be wearing only turtle necks for a few weeks after this.

His warm hands skate down your body, pulling and prodding at your sensitive nipples, letting out a dark chuckle as you whine at his ministrations. Eris mocks your moans as he rubs a finger at your center, rolling the sensitive bundle of nerves between his fingers. Finally, he slips a finger inside of you rubbing at the spot that makes you see stars. He knows exactly where to touch to get you to dissolve, his beautiful mate bending to him like water running through his fingertips. That ring-clad hand curls around your throat, cold metal contrasting with his warm hands, and you keen as the pleasant dizzy feeling takes over your whole body.

That feeling combined with the addition of another finger in your core sends you hurtling through gold-flecked oblivion.

He pulls his fingers out of you, sucking them into his mouth and moaning as he relishes the taste of you on his tongue. Staring down at your shaking form with smugness in his eyes as he circles the skin of your inner thigh, enjoying the way the muscles quiver under his touch. Eris sinks himself into you, inch by tortuous inch until you can’t tell where your body ends and he begins. He strokes slowly and deliberately, bruising you with his intensity as your vision goes white with searing pleasure every time he moves his hips.

You want him to leave his imprint everywhere on your body, that unanswered bond begging you to never leave this bed again. Eris must feel it too, that golden thread wrapping around his heart begging him to keep you, to never let another male so much as look at you. That makes something ugly twist in his chest and he almost snarls at even the thought of another male near you as his instincts take over and he draws your legs over his shoulders to hit an even deeper part inside of you. Your walls are clenching and fluttering around him as his pace turns ravenous, all you can do is try to hold on as your nails scrape jagged lines down his back. Eris scrapes his teeth over your neck, then he moves down to your nipple biting down as you scream his name before giving the other one equal attention.

“Who do you belong to pet?” He murmurs in your ear in time with a thrust that's so deep your eyes roll back in your head. “Who’s the only one that can make you feel like this?” You can barely give him anything but a whimper as he devastates your body, pinching your clit in a way that elicits a pleasure-soaked sob. “Scream it for me,” he punctuates it with a slap against the apex of your thighs.

“Yours Eris, I’m all yours!” You scream as you orgasm, tears running down your flushed cheeks, Eris follows soon after you spilling himself deep inside of you.

He pulls out, disappears into the bathroom, and returns with a clean rag to wipe up the mess he made between your thighs. He collapses onto the mattress next to you and pulls you to his chest, warming his hands with his power as he rubs slow circles into the small of your back. You look up at him and he’s taken aback at the vulnerability in your eyes. “Eris I-” you choke, unable to force the words you so desperately want to say past your lips. He shushes you with a kiss against your forehead.

“I know,” he mutters into your hairline “I know.” You hold him tighter, blinking back tears as you lock the bond back down in its obsidian shackles,“I’ll wait an eternity for you.” It’s the last thing you hear before closing your eyes as you let him soothe you to sleep.

─── ･｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

“I trust everything went well?” Rhys asks, raising a dark brow at your form where you stand across from his desk. You subconsciously pull the dark turtleneck further up, the deep purple marks burning like a brand. You scrubbed yourself raw as soon as you winnowed yourself to your apartment, and you’re praying to the Mother that Rhys doesn’t even catch a whiff of Eris or the frankly copious amounts of sex. The thought of Eris enjoying it this morning, pressing his nose against the crook of your neck to make sure it really stuck, before crawling his way down your body to settle in between your thighs makes you triple-check that the steel of your mental shields was still in place.

“Nothing to report,” You rasp, voice destroyed after last night's events. The attempts to clear your throat are doing nothing to help you

“Are you alright?” Rhys questions, wringing his hands together on his desk as he shoots a concerned look.

“Must just be a chill I caught in Autumn, those woods get cold at night.” You supply and he hums his agreement.

“Well go rest, you’ve earned it. Perhaps you should see Madja for something to soothe your throat.” Rhys says and you nod your agreement, taking the cue for your dismissal. You wait until his office door clicks shut behind you to let out your sigh of relief, thinking of nothing but soft sheets and warm hands.

You can only hope you get another mission there soon.

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acosf fanfiction #acotar imagine #eris vanserra #eris imagine #eris x reader #eris acotar #eris vanserra smut

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shadowdaddies · 6 months

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I need more Eris x quiet!male! Reader.... Maybe how they met? Maybe the reader is a lower nobleman's son in the autumn court and they are at a slightly informal gathering and while Eris is rather talkative because he's, yk, Eris, the reader isn't really feeding into his charm (or so it seems) until the reader's composure breaks slightly and he blushes and Eris, ofc, notices and thus begins their (forbidden👁️👁️) relationship?

omg I LOVE THEM. I had so much fun writing this eep

Tomorrow, Then

Eris x m!Reader fluff

Setting down your wine glass, your gaze shifted to where Beron sat at the head of the long dining table. Brown eyes glinted in the faelight, a lazy smirk settling over the High Lord’s face as he set his fork down on his plate.

“I think it’s time the males move to the drawing room, so we may discuss real political matters.” Haughty laughter echoed from the Lords in the room, your father beside you one of those who laughed in dismissal of the females around the table. His hand clapped your shoulder, squeezing slightly in silent demand to rise with the other males, wooden chairs scraping against the carpet as you stood.

Your eyes shot to the end of the table where Beron stood, paying no mind to the Lady of Autumn still seated next to him, a polite smile on her features as she offered the other Ladies a tour of the gardens. While Beron strode away, you watched his eldest son lean down to press a kiss to his mother’s cheek.

As though he sensed your gaze, amber eyes found yours, Eris arching an appraising brow, eyes roving over in your body in a way that sent shivers down your spine. The sound of your father’s throat clearing next to you brought you back to reality, feet slightly stumbling as they led you out the door with the rest of the males.

The drawing room smelled of cigar smoke and leather, firelight flickering in chandeliers and multiple hearths throughout the large space. With a grateful smile, you took a glass of whiskey from the young female servant before scanning the dark room for a place to sit.

While the Lords chattered about various nonsense ranging from the females they bedded to the taxes they levied on the farmers, you found a seat far away in the corner of the room. A painting on the far wall caught your eye, of Eris standing proudly among half a dozen hunting dogs, his golden gaze piercing through the painting as though his eyes were truly on you.

“The artwork more interesting than the conversation, is it?” a low voice drawled from beside you, the couch cushions settling as Eris’s lean form joined you on the sofa. The air was heady with the scent of cinnamon and crackling embers, a blush settling over your cheeks as you turned to the Autumn Lord.

“I can’t say the conversation provides much competition,” you muttered, earning a deep laugh from Eris. The sound settled something within you, a warmth spreading in your chest far more intoxicating than the whiskey. “Are those your dogs?” you continued, nodding toward the painting.

Eris hummed in affirmation, never turning away from you. “Come with me,” the Lord murmured, standing gracefully to lead you in the direction of a door at the other end of the room. You followed quickly, keeping steps quiet as you slipped away from the group unnoticed.

Closing the door softly behind you, you turned to find yourself in a grand library, stories higher than the last room and lined with books and art separated by tall arched windows overlooking the autumn landscape. “What is this?” you whispered, more to yourself than to Eris.

His rich laughter filled the air once more, a feline smirk playing on his pink lips. “This is one of our libraries. People rarely come in here, and I thought you might appreciate the quiet.”

At your responding expression, Eris nodded at the door you had come through, where your father’s raucous laughter rang out among the other Lords. “You did not appear to enjoy that sort of company.”

“Do you?” you challenged in a moment of bravery. You turned to the Autumn Lord, ignoring the fluttering in your stomach at the feeling of his attention on you. “Do you find that you thrive among those types of males?”

Something between amusement and approval shone in Eris’s gaze, the flames lighting the room appearing to brighten around him. “No,” he admitted with a slight nod, stepping closer to where you stood. “No, I do not. But I do know what I want, and what I need to do to get it.”

Forcing yourself to hold his stare, you sat your glass on the window ledge and matched his steps. Nearly chest to chest, you could now see the specks of brown and maroon in his eyes, like falling leaves against amber irises. “And what do you want?” you dared to breathe.

Eris’s pupils darkened, swallowing those colors as his scent darkened. “There are many things that I want. Some in this room, for example,” he purred, a long finger curling under your chin as you found yourself drawn impossibly nearer.

Your eyes dipped to his lips, the plush pink skin slightly parted in the dim light. “And you? Do you see anything that you want?”

Hand daring to slide up his side, your fingers found purchase in his red wavy hair you’d been dying to touch all evening. “I see the only thing I want, or care about, in this entire estate,” you murmured, the words barely spoken before Eris pulled you in for a deep kiss.

It was gentle yet strong, lips and tongue not clashing but moving in a symphonic dance. You tugged on the strands at the nape of his neck, his hard length rubbing against your own eliciting groans from the both of you, when the door handle clicked loudly from the far side of the room.

The two of you jumped apart, catching your breath quickly as you turned to see your father drunkenly stumble in alongside Beron and others. “Ah, there you are,” your sire announced, whiskey on his breath as he slung an arm around you. “You missed the good conversation!”

Willing your breaths to even out, you gestured to Eris as casually as you could. “Lord Eris and I were discussing the impressive collection of art in the drawing room, so he was showing me more of the art and literature your home boasts,” you nodded to Beron. “It’s quite impressive.”

Eris flashed you an approving grin as Beron rambled on about the many more books and artifacts he owned, the other Lords dutifully quick to affirm his ego.

“Perhaps tomorrow we could go for a hunt. You could see the hounds from the painting you admired in action,” Eris suggested, his intense gaze betraying the nonchalance with which he spoke.

You found yourself speechless, unable to choke out much more words beyond, “yes, my Lord.”

Completely unaware of the tension between you, Beron clapped a hand on your father’s shoulder, the two of them continuing conversation as the group was led from the library out towards the entrance of the Forest House.

“Tomorrow, then, I will send for you,” Eris promised as you stepped across the threshold towards the carriage where your father waited.

You knew your flushed cheeks were visible even in the moonlight as Eris smirked. “Tomorrow, then,” you answered, rushing toward your carriage with a brighter smile than you’d ever felt burning your cheeks. Butterflies erupted within as you found yourself looking forward to tomorrow, more than you had in a long time.

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thehighladywrites · 9 months

Text

ACOTAR MEN X READER, USING DOE EYES ON THEM

summary: you give them doe eyes in order to persuade them into whatever you want

warnings: nsfw, suggestiveness

amara’s note: i love them holy shit but my fav one this time is eris🥹🥹

Rhysand:

Looks down at you with amusement

He knows what you’re trying to do

“ come on rhyssssss, just one tiny mission. I promise I’ll be super careful, baby”

Unbeknownst to you he agreed the second you asked since he can’t really say no to you

But he loves to see just how desperate you’ll get, how much you’ll beg him.

And paired with those docile eyes? Yeah he’s a goner.

He might seem composed and calm on the outside, but trust me that man is panicking

Rhysand knows he’ll say yes to anything, obey you in every way when you flash him those eyes.

“Okay, but please be careful. If you feel your shoulder hurt again, come home. Abandon the mission and prioritize yourself, do you hear me?”

The moment the words leave his mouth, it hits him like a brick that he agreed to give you a mission when you've barely recovered from an injury.

He never fails to be surprised by your ability to controll him

You words and eyes are powerful indeed…

Azriel:

You’d think he’d have some sort of resistance or something but no

If anything, he folds the quickest of them all

“ Az, could i please-”

“ Yes ”

He doesn’t even let you finish talking, he just looked into your begging eyes and said yes to whatever it is you wanted

There isn’t a thing on this planet that he wouldn’t do for you

But when you pair it with those doe eyes, standing shorter than him as you look up through your lashes with a slight tilt in your head, lips pouting, he gets hard

You look so submissive and innocent, it sparks something primal in him.

“You don’t have to ask me for things, my love, just tell me whatever it is you want and need.”

He’s grabbing you by your waist, pullling you in closer as he kisses you with need.

I’m so serious, this man is down bad

Cassian

He's been working late every day for two weeks, and you've had enough. You miss your mate, and you want him close.

Clad in a slutty little nightgown that screamed ‘give me attention’ , you sauntered into his office

At first, irritation crashes over you like a rogue wave because he isn’t even bothering to lift his head when he greets you. So, you declare it's time for a hands-on approach to spice up the scene.

Rounding his chair, you stand behind him, and with expert hands, you start giving his stiff shoulders a massage. His groans reverberate through the room.

"That feels so good, sweets," his voice is raspy and laced with exhaustion.

Smiling to yourself, your hands travel further down to his chest, where you attempt to unbutton his shirt.

He grabs your wrist, smirking, and drags you so you’re in front of him, raising an eyebrow at your bold move.

Cassian's brain short-circuits as you stand there with big eyes, begging for attention, and then lower yourself to your knees, looking up at him.

“ baby, i missed you so much. Please let me take care of you…”

Stunned, he's left speechless, resorting to a simple nod in response.

Safe to say, you were both pleased and relieved by the end of it all

Lucien:

He isn’t stupid, he KNOWS you use your eyes to get your way

But he literally doesn’t care, he’ll give in to you

He likes watching you work for it though

Standing before him, hands innocently behind your back, you arch your back, pushing your chest out, your eyes widening with a mix of need and desire. Your lips form a seductive pout, silently pleading for him to sweep you away to The Continent.

“is that how you ask for something, my love?”

He's feral, a teasing smile playing on his lips as he watches you, curious to see how far you'll go for a yes.

Little do you know, he's already packed your bags, setting the stage for a surprise journey.

“Please, Luc, I really wanna come with you. Let me convince you.”

You got him WHIPPED, like he’s panicking inside, fucking sweating

“Yeah? How will you convince me?”

Stepping closer to him, you whisper your deprived thoughts, reveling in the way he shudders

Yeah…

You were limping on your trip

Eris:

Eris had never felt so… conflicted in his life

He had never bent over backwards for someone or even let anyone occupy his mind the way you do

The first time you used your eyes to persuade him, he nearly stumbled backward, then attempted to ignore you because he felt weak.

Eris had no idea eyes could be so powerful, and he had a feeling he’d say yes to absolutely everything and anything you wanted

After a few times, he stopped feeling so conflicted and started looking forward to your little manipulation sessions

You had attempted to seduce him all day, but he insisted on working, especially since he had recently ascended to the position of High Lord and had a mountain of paperwork to tackle.

Walking into his office, you strutted around, touching his belongings and casually perusing through the documents on his desk.

Eventually, you got closer to his table and bent over, acting like you needed something.

Eris looked up only to be met with a sight full of your tits. Sighing, he looked up at you with a secret smile,

“I know what you’re doing, sweet thing.”

“ What? Is it a crime to help my mate with his work?”

You look at him with round eyes, your head slightly lowered as your eyes do the talking

His eyes, simmering with desire, traced every curve of your form as a sultry smile played on his lips, creating tension that sizzled with heat.

“Do you remember the last time you gave me those eyes, love?”

Fuck yeah, you do. He had fucked you stupid for hours, in every part of the Forrest House, showing you new levels of pleasure you hadn’t even considered, eyes rolling into the back of your head everytime he pumped into you

Your body shuddered at the memory, body aching for more. Giving him your most desperate, doe-eyed expression, you ask your mate for more

“What if I want it to happen again?”

Giving you a once over with raised brows, his handsome face breaks into a foxy smile as he signals you to come closer

Biting your lips to hide your smile, you oblige, helping him relieve his tension and stress

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velarisdusk · 3 months

Text

Ice Cold Jealousy

Hockey AU | Cassian x Reader

Series Masterlist -> Part 2 - Thawing Boundaries

word count: 8.3k

content: [ explicit sexual content, PWP, unprotected PIV, rough sex, oral (m & f receiving), voyeuristic elements, possessiveness/jealousy, power dynamics, little bit of overstim?, hair pulling, dirty talk, humiliation?, biting, locker room sex (it's come to my attention that hockey locker rooms don't typically have lockers but just suspend your disbelief for a sec please), inapproproate touching, insinuation that Cass stares at Az's ass teehee | violence (physical altercation, reader not involved), blood mention, strong language | no beta we die like men ]

summary: Despite the tension on the ice, your relationship with Cassian, the commanding captain of the Velaris Vipers, is anything but cold. His jealousy ignites when the rest of the team's flirtations become too much to ignore. In the aftermath of a disastrous game, the boundaries between playful teasing and intense passion blur, leading to a locker room encounter that challenges both your resolve and your control.

author's note: WOW, okay, this is the first fic I've written for ACOTAR, and the first fic I've written in close to a decade, so excuse me if I'm a bit rusty :) I've been going through a hockey thing lately, watching random games on youtube in their entirety, so obviously that means I had to write Cass, duh. Sorry it's on the longer side; I just had lots of ideas... like only 3k of this is plot lmfao. Enjoy!

Cassian knows they’re fucked.

You can see it on his face. With two points down and precious little time left on the clock, they need a miracle. The referee skates to center ice, puck in hand. You lean forward, breath caught in your throat, as the Velaris Vipers take their positions. The air is thick with tension, the crowd’s roar fading into a dull buzz in your ears. You knew the Hewn City Hellhounds were good, but never imagined they’d pose this much of a problem.

Cassian’s and Azriel’s eyes meet for a moment, a silent agreement passing between them. The puck drops, and its whereabouts for the seconds after are a mystery to you. After an unruly clash of hockey sticks and a mess of bodies, Cassian passes to Azriel on his left, who takes off down the ice with it. Cassian moves to mirror him on the opposite side of the ice. The Hellhounds’ defense closes in, but Cassian and Azriel move in perfect sync, the puck zipping between their sticks in a blur. They dance around the opposition, narrowly avoiding checks, their movements so fluid they don’t need to look to know where the other will be.

Just as Azriel is about to be boxed in by two defenders, a swift flick of his wrist sends the puck to Tarquin who’s come up to support them. You let out a sigh of relief, not even having seen him since he was back by the net.

Why is he up here instead of back by the net? Eris should’ve been there; it’s his one job as a winger to support Cassian as center in making goals. You scan the rink, but don’t need to for long. He skates right up to you with an air of nonchalance, like he doesn’t need to be with the rest of his team fighting for their lives. You give him an incredulous look, about to open your mouth and shout at him when he gets to the wall, but the words catch in your throat when he blows a kiss, tracing a heart on the glass with a smirk. You gather yourself quickly, but before you can scold him his back is already turned and he skates back toward the action.

You’ve grown accustomed to the team’s teasing, knowing it’s all in good spirit. But with Eris, there’s always been an undercurrent of something more intense, more deliberate. As he skates away now, you can’t help but wonder, not for the first time, just how far he’d take things if given the chance. You’ll never admit it out loud, but the way he cuts directly in front of the opposing team’s defenseman to get him away from Tarquin is impressive with how absentminded it seems.

Watching them, you reflect on the years you’ve spent at their games and practices. Not only have you witnessed their drastic improvement, but you’ve also grown close to the team. Perhaps too close, if the playful flirtations are any indication.

Yeah, maybe ‘close’ was a bit…

But it wasn’t your fault. Really! A little over three years ago, Cassian invited you to their season opener, your relationship still fresh. You hadn’t known the first thing about the sport so obviously you spent hours watching videos and frantically looking up your countless questions to ensure you wouldn’t be entirely lost. Cassian had told you on the drive home that night that word had spread rather quickly through the Vipers about the hot girl in the stands. You knew. Hot, definitely, but dumb? Oblivious? No. Of course you noticed their showing off — the goalie’s glances after skilled saves, the wingers’ risky shots, the defensemen’s aggressive checks and subsequent winks, smiles, and waves from the penalty box.

You’ve often recalled their expressions when Cassian called into the locker room for them to come meet you, when they’d seen the object of their displays throwing her arms around their captain’s neck, planting a kiss on his sweaty cheek. You weren’t necessarily shy about looking at them in their various states of undress through the doorway; some shirtless, others holding a towel in front of themselves for modesty. But Cassian introducing you as his girlfriend didn’t stop their light-hearted remarks, though they were much less blatant now. For the most part. There was still the stray push of boundaries. Neither of you have ever told them to stop. Though you both enjoyed their feeble attempts, found them entertaining, there were times you noticed him get jealous, if his clenched jaw and reddening face were anything to go by.

Tarquin deftly maneuvers around an opponent with a small spin, sending ice shavings spraying, and you aren’t sure if the move is meant to distract or simply add some flourish. He looks up and winks at you with a nod. You roll your eyes with a small smile and the puck is once again in Cassian’s possession. He either doesn’t notice or simply doesn’t care. He drives forward, eyes locked on the goal. The goalie is ready, crouched and tense, but your boys have one last trick up their sleeves.

Cassian pulls his hockey stick back and thrusts it forward with such determination that you’re sure he’s going to take the shot. But he stops just short of the puck and in an instant pushes it left and back, where Azriel is perfectly positioned. He doesn’t hesitate, slamming the puck into the net with a force that sends it rattling.

The red light flashes. Goal.

You shoot up and cheer, your shouts blending with those of the fans all around you. Previous to this, so overtaken with nerves, all you’ve been able to do is sit tight with your arms crossed, eyes darting wildly across the rink. The jovial energy doesn’t last long though. They’re still down a point, and with only a little over a minute left now, their only chance is somehow scoring and going into overtime.

You scan the rink. The three forwards take their positions: Eris, red hair peeking from his helmet, grips his stick tightly at right wing; Azriel, ever the shadow to Cassian’s light, settles into place with calm readiness; and Cassian, commanding center ice with unmatched presence. Rhysand and Tarquin hover near the blue line, mirroring each other’s poised intensity on defense. If you were closer that way, you might be able to see their eyes darting across the ice, calculating every possible move. Helion stands sentinel before the net, gaze piercing and unwavering. Each a powerhouse, but none more commanding than Cassian at center ice.

His presence is commanding and magnetic. The weight of the game seems to rest on his broad shoulders, yet he bears it with a fierce determination you find both exhilarating and reassuring. His dark hair clings to his forehead, damp with sweat, and his eyes are locked on the opposition with a predator’s focus. You love this about him — the way he can command the rink with just a glance, the way his intensity electrifies the very air around him.

Off the rink, he’s just as intense in a different way: reliable, attentive, deeply devoted. The moments you share away from the chaos — quiet dinners, late-night talks, and his arms holding you close as you get drunk off of each other’s wandering hands and lips for hours — are a stark contrast to the warrior before you now. It’s this duality, this balance of strength and tenderness, that never ceases to intrigue you.

As the clock ticked down these last few plays, you could see the resolve settling in his eyes. He isn’t just playing for the team; he’s playing for you, for the life you’re building together.

Another loud cheer from the crowd pulls you back in, and you notice the Hellhounds have taken back possession of the puck and are rapidly approaching Helion at the goal. Rhysand intercepts a pass and carries it around the back of the goal to shoot the puck forward along the side of the rink. Where Eris is supposed to receive it, the Hellhounds’ center intercepts and, guarded by a winger on either side, plows back down the ice towards the Vipers’ goal. Their wingers do a decent job of clearing a path for him. He takes the shot, and Helion miraculously changes the trajectory of the puck with a paddle save that has the audience roaring and up on their feet again. Tarquin tries to take back possession but isn’t there quickly enough. The Hellhounds still have it and go for the shot again, this time bouncing the puck off the crossbar and away from the goal.

40 seconds left.

Cassian and Rhysand guard against their opponents while Azriel and Tarquin skillfully maneuver the puck down the ice, right between people’s skates at times. Tarquin is incredibly nimble and light on his feet for a defenseman, conducting several moves that force gasps from your lips, worried something would go wrong. He makes a pass to Eris right as he gets shoved into the wall by the Hellhounds’ defense.

26 seconds.

The redhead moves with a sort of confidence that seemingly makes the other team recoil momentarily. He commands the attention of every spectator, not only because he has possession but also because of his back-to-back evasions and fakeouts.

18 seconds.

Eris approaches the goal, all six opponents converging. Cassian skates up to the left, perfectly positioned for a play they’ve practiced countless times. A simple, effective strategy — Eris just needs to pass to Cassian for the shot. Cassian catches Eris’ eye, giving him a nod. He’s open.

But Eris shakes his head.

He backtracks, attempting to outmaneuver the defense. You glance at Cassian, seeing fury building in his eyes. Tarquin and Azriel are open too, but Eris isn’t looking that way. Rhysand and Helion wear expressions of anger tinged with resigned frustration.

6 seconds left. Eris circles behind the goal, clearly aiming to nudge the puck in around the post. You can already tell it won’t work — too many opponents, and Eris’ eyes are locked on you instead of the play. He slides the puck around the post and… straight into the goalie’s leg pads.

2 seconds. Cassian and Azriel make a desperate rush, but it’s futile. You sit with a sigh, putting your head in your hands. The buzzer blares. Game over. Hewn City Hellhounds win, 5 - 4.

You distantly hear the cries and shouts from the other side of the arena celebrating their team’s win, mingled in are the groans of frustration and defeat from around you. What the fuck was he thinking? They’d had the perfect opportunity. You look up just in time to see your boyfriend shove Eris into the wall a few feet down from where you sit, the glass letting you see just how his face smashes against it with the impact. The spectators around you cheer Cassian on, as they, too, are frustrated at the person who cost them the possibility of overtime.

Immediately after impact, Cassian skates back a few feet, throws his helmet and gloves off, and raises his fists. Eris mirrors the action after throwing down his stick. Cassian’s is discarded way back near the goal. There’s no going in circles to see who moves first; Cassian is on him, landing blow after blow to his face and head. His own face goes red with anger as he shouts what you assume to be chastising, scolding words at the other. You can’t hear anything above the crowd around you spurring him on. Across the ice, the rest of the team just watches, arms crossed and chests heaving.

Eris finally gathers himself, landing a left hook to Cassian’s jaw. He takes the opportunity to pull him down a bit by the hair and uses his other hand to keep punching. The refs are finally on their way to break it up, but both of their blood has already spilled onto the glass and ice. You strain to catch their words, curiosity flaring as Eris’ eyes flick to you, his lips curling into that infuriating smirk. Whatever he said next had Cassian lunging forward with another barrage of punches.

As the refs finally near them, you decide you've seen enough and navigate your way out of the stands to the locker room entrance just as you always have at the end of their matches.

You’ve never seen him get like this. Sure, you’ve seen him get into a fight every now and then, after which he’d pout at you from the penalty box (if he wasn’t still too overcome with anger). But this? In-fighting? Never. He’s usually the one splitting the guys up. And though he gets into disagreement after disagreement with Eris, it’s never turned into this. You’re not even sure why it escalated so quickly — they’ve been doing really well this season and the playoffs are still months away. This was by no means a high-stakes game for them.

Just as you cross your arms over your chest and lean against the wall across from the locker room door, you hear the familiar cacophony that comes with lost games. You prefer it to the times they come back silent — the times the car ride home goes by without a word exchanged. Those are few and far in between, though.

The din of angry voices and clattering equipment grows louder as the team approaches. You straighten up, eyes fixed on the corridor’s entrance. When Cassian emerges, leading the group, your heart sinks. His jaw is clenched, gaze locked straight ahead with an intensity that makes you hesitate.

Still, you take a few steps towards him. “Cass,” you start, your voice barely audible above the commotion.

He doesn’t even blink. Cassian strides past you, the heat of his anger almost palpable as he disappears into the locker room. The door slams shut behind him, leaving you staring at its blank surface.

You're still processing when you feel a light touch at your waist. Azriel slides past you with a sympathetic nod. Helion follows, his hand ghosting across your lower back as he squeezes through. If you weren’t caught so off guard you may have leaned into their touch. Rhysand, ever the gentleman even in defeat, murmurs a quiet “Rough night, darling” as he moves around you.

“Think Cassian would mind if you played nurse?” Eris drawls, gesturing to his bruised face. He gives what would be a stunning smile if not for the blood staining his teeth. His eyes flicker to the locker room door, then back to you. “I promise I’d be a much more… grateful patient.” He lingers only a moment longer, and you’re sure he’d jump at the chance in a heartbeat if you gave the word, before sauntering into the locker room with a self-assured smirk.

You lean against the wall, arms crossed. The muffled sounds of frustration and anger seep through the locker room door, punctuated by the occasional crash of equipment being thrown. You check your phone, scrolling mindlessly through social media to distract yourself. Already, clips of the fight are circulating, fans dissecting every move, every punch. You decide to just put your phone back in your pocket.

The shouting inside gradually dies down, replaced by the sound of running water. Showers. You find yourself straining to hear any indication of Cassian’s mood, wondering if the shower is doing anything to cool his temper.

The corridor gradually empties as staff and other team personnel file out. You shift your weight from one foot to another, replying to texts to pass the time. The showers shut off one by one. You hear locker doors opening and closing, the murmur of subdued conversations. The guys eventually trickle out, hair still damp. They offer you tight smiles or brief nods as they pass, their usual post-game chatter noticeably absent. The weight of the loss and the fight hangs heavy in the air; even Eris walks past you without so much as a smirk.

“(Y/N).”

You feel your heart drop to your stomach at his tone — it’s commanding, and the raspiness from all the shouting in his already deep voice sends a conflicting shiver through you. It does nothing to calm your nerves, but ignites a different kind of tension altogether. You take a step off the wall as you respond.

“Yeah…?”

“Get in here.”

This better be fucking good, you think, but find yourself swallowing hard anyway. You push the door and step in, and if your breath wasn’t already stuck in your throat, you might have choked on it at the sight.

Cassian sits on one of the benches, a towel wrapped loosely around his waist. His elbows rest on his knees, hands hanging loose between them, and his damp hair partially obscures his face as he stares down at his calloused fingers.

You take a few tentative steps, stopping a few paces before the bench. The door finally shuts behind you, the loud click echoing in the otherwise silent room. Neither of you speak for long enough that you feel like you should say something, but when you open your mouth-

“Sit. And listen to me very carefully.”

His voice is low and measured, but the underlying tension is palpable. You lower yourself onto the bench across from him, heart pounding. His eyes lock onto you, dark and intense. He stands, closing the distance between you in two long strides. His towel now hangs dangerously low on his hips as he looms over you, still sitting on the bench.

“That game,” he growls, “was a disaster.”

You can feel the heat radiating from his skin, still flushed from the shower, as he leans down, placing his hands on either side of you on the bench. You have to tilt your head back to meet his gaze. His face is inches from yours, breath warm on your cheek.

“Eris blew it,” he continues, voice low and rough. “But y’know what? It wasn’t just him. The whole team was off today.” He leans in closer, his breath ghosting your ear. "And I think I know why."

He pulls back slightly, just enough to look you in the eyes. His gaze roams over your face, over your surprise laden eyes, lingering on your lips before snapping back up.

"I saw the way they kept looking at you," he murmurs so quietly you can hardly hear him. "Tarquin missing easy passes, Azriel fumbling checks he'd usually nail." His free hand comes up to brush a strand of hair from your face, the touch feather-light and sending shivers down your spine. "Even Helion let in shots he'd normally block without breaking a sweat.” You can feel the tension coiling in Cassian's body, see the muscle in his jaw working as he clenches it.

"It's getting to be too much," he says, the hand that brushed your hair back now on your chin, tilting your face up to his. "The guys can't focus when you're here." His thumb brushes across your lower lip, and you can’t help but part your mouth open a bit at the touch. "Maybe I need to stop bringing you to these things. If you're going to keep distracting the team like this..."

His gaze intensifies, dark eyes boring into yours. He’s so close you can feel the warmth of his breath on your lips as he speaks.

"We can't have that, can we, baby?"

The notion is absurd. Stop going to his games? Your brows furrow as you look at him incredulously. “That’s hardly my fault-”

“Didn’t I tell you to sit and listen!?” He shouts suddenly, his grip on your chin tightening. Your eyes shoot wide open, but not in surprise.

In understanding.

He’d never really talk to you like this, you both knew that. This was one of his games. And, oh, how you so loved playing them.

You keep the smirk from tugging at the corners of your lips.

“Funny, I thought you liked it when all eyes were on me.”

“I like it when they look. I don’t like it when they forget their place.”

Your breath catches, a mix of anticipation and desire. You can see the fire in his eyes, the barely contained jealousy and possessiveness. You lean in slightly, testing the boundaries. “And what exactly is their place, Cassian?” you ask, your voice low and teasing. “More importantly, what’s mine?”

His eyes narrow at your challenge, a dangerous smirk playing at the corners of his mouth. He releases your chin, only to trail his fingers down your neck, coming to rest at your collarbone. The light touch leaves goosebumps in its wake. “Their place?” His eyes harden slightly. “To play hockey. Nothing more. I bring them some eye candy out of the kindness of my heart, and how do they repay me? By letting themselves get distracted and costing us games.” A sharp exhale.

“Your place?” he murmurs, his voice a low rumble that you feel more than hear. Without warning, his hand slides to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. The sudden grip is firm but not painful. Cassian steps over the bench in one fluid motion, his hold on you guiding you to turn with him. You instinctively follow his lead, twisting on the bench to face him and rising as he pulls you close. His movements are firm as he turns you both and directs you backward, until you feel the cool press of metal against your shoulders. With a gentle but insistent pressure, he keeps you pinned there, pushing his hips against your own. His eyes lock onto yours as he leans in, closing the distance between your lips.

The kiss is nothing romantic. It’s pure lust, disguised as frustration, as consequation. Where his words were clearly deliberate, his actions feign abandon. You match his intensity, your lips moving against his with equal fervor, your body arching into his touch. The grip on your hair remained, his other hand sliding slowly from your hip to your waist, then up again to your chest. He was like a starved man, grabbing onto whatever flesh he could get his hands on. The hand you didn’t have snaked around the back of his neck desperately explored every valley of his bare torso, products of his years playing the sport.

The sounds of heavy breaths and locking lips fill the room, grunts following not long after. Cassian lets out an especially depraved groan, rolling his head back, when you slide your hand down to squeeze him through the precariously wrapped towel. But when you move to pull it off, his own hand swats yours away.

“With what you did tonight, you think that’s allowed? You think you decide how this goes?” His words hang in the air, heavy with implication. You pause, processing his question, the sudden shift.

“What I did tonight?” you manage, your voice slightly breathless. “I didn’t do anything.”

Cassian’s laugh is low and humorless. “Didn’t do anything? Sweetheart… don’t play innocent.” His fingers tighten in your hair, making you suck in a sharp breath through your teeth. “Every cheer, every jump, every little gasp… You put on quite the show, didn’t you?” He leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “And don’t think I didn’t notice the way your eyes stuck to Eris. Tell me, did you like it when he blew you that kiss?”

Yes.

His gaze continues to burn into yours, a mix of jealousy and desire, as if he could somehow read the response in your eyes. “You’ve got the whole team wrapped around your finger and you know it.”

You steel yourself, meeting his gaze with an intense one of your own. “And so what if I do?” you challenge, voice steadier now. “I’m not responsible for how your team reacts to me. If they can’t keep their eyes on the game, maybe that’s on them.”

You lean in slightly, mimicking his earlier movement. “Or maybe it’s on you, Captain. Shouldn’t you be able to keep your team focused?” Something dangerous flashes through his eyes.

“You’re pushing boundaries you don’t fully understand.”

“Or maybe I understand them better than you think.” Your voice is steady despite the thrumming of your pulse.

“Understand this, then.” Your stomach flips. His eyes narrow, a muscle in his jaw twitching. “Stirring up my team? That’s a direct shot at me, at my authority.”

You scoff, feigning incredulity. “Authority? If you had any authority, do you think they’d look at me the way they do, touch me the way they do?” A pause. “Did you think it ended with the showboating? No, baby, they put their hands on me so often I’m starting to forget what yours feel like.”

Of course he knew, noticed it early on and said nothing after discovering that neither of you truly minded.

“Helion seems to enjoy putting his hand on my lower back when he moves around me for a chance to ‘slip’ and cop a feel,” you continue. “Ever notice how Rhys almost always greets me with a hug? Squeezes me? Oh! And the way-”

“Enough.” Cassian’s voice cuts through your words like a blade, low and sharp. The hand that doesn’t still have a fistful of your hair in it shoots out to grasp the junction of your neck and shoulder, his calloused fingers feel like they’re searing into you. “You think I don’t see it all? See how they undress you with their eyes? How their fingers itch to trace every curve they imagine beneath your clothes?”

You feel a slight downward pressure, pushing on your shoulder, pulling on your hair. “But here’s what you’re missing, sweetheart. They might play at ownership, but at the end of the day, who do they answer to?”

He pulls back slightly, to really take in the sight of you. “Who do you answer to when the game’s over and the lights go down?”

The question hangs in the air between you. You can feel the heat radiating off his body. Cassian’s gaze intensifies, his grip on your hair and shoulder tightening. “Because make no mistake,” he continues, voice dropping to a dangerous whisper, and the downward force he’s inflicting on you growing steadily. “This little game you’re playing? It ends when I say it does.”

The pressure on your shoulder increases, his intent clear. You resist for a moment longer, but the fire in his eyes, the set of his jaw… His command is clear. Though you have half a mind to resist, a thrill runs through you, making your heart beat faster and your breath hitch slightly. The sheer possessiveness in his gaze is enough to make your knees weak.

Slowly, inexorably, he guides you downward, your body responding almost involuntarily to the authoritative tone and the heat of his voice. You look up at him from your new position, the sight of him towering over you sending a shiver down your spine. His eyes hold yours captive as he looms above you. You’re aware of how your breathing quickens with anticipation, how Cassian’s throat bobs as he watches you. He’s still holding your hair, and you can tell he’s enjoying the submission he’s coaxed from you, his gaze a mix of satisfaction and barely restrained desire.

That grip tightens a fraction as he leans into you, his other hand coming up to cup your jaw, his thumb tracing a path along your lower lip, but different from before. Where his last touch there had been gentle and barely there, this one is firm and deliberate.

Cassian’s voice, when he finally speaks, is low and rough. “Open,” he commands, the single word laden with authority and promise.

You shudder as his command rolls over you, your body responding without conscious thought. Your lips part slightly in response to his order. His gaze is fixed intently on your face. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his gaze unwavering. His thumb traces along the curve of your lower lip with deliberate slowness, a firmness matching that of his eyes. For a heartbeat, he applies the gentlest pressure, slipping it into your mouth for a moment, his eyes locked on yours. “Now be a good girl and stay just like that for me.”

You hold yourself still, holding his gaze as you keep your mouth open, your tongue instinctively darting out to moisten your lower lip when he pulls his hand away. He finally releases your hair and it’s an effort to contain your sigh of relief. You hear more than see the towel fall from his hips to the floor. The same fingers that gripped your face moments ago now wrap around his girth, absently stroking the already-hard length of it. His pupils are dilated at the sight of you obediently holding yourself still, your mouth open, and he can barely restrain the hunger that’s been building in him.

Cassian’s large hand cradles your jaw, drawing you even closer. His presence is overwhelming, and as he aligns himself with your mouth, there’s no warning before he thrusts in. Initially, his movements are slow, almost deceivingly gentle, but you realize too late it’s quite the opposite. Halfway in, you manage, but as he pushes to the hilt, he does so painfully slowly. You try to relax, your throat attempting to accommodate him. The slow withdrawal is worse, your breath ragged as you inhale through your nose.

He pulls out slowly, leaving you gasping for air. He looks down at you with a mix of confusion and pity. “Look at you,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing your cheek. “Struggling already. I thought you could handle more.”

You meet his gaze, eyes watering but defiant. You want to tell him that you can, that he knows you can, but when you make to speak, the corner of his mouth twitches in a smirk, and he pushes back in, a little faster this time. “Is this what you wanted, baby? To be on your knees, taking me like this?”

He thrusts deeper, making you choke slightly. Cassian groans, a low rumble of a sound that reverberates through you. “That’s why you acted out, distracted my guys, huh? You just wanted me to give you a little attention.” He picks up the pace, each thrust more forceful yet. “Bet you think about this all the time,” he growls. “When you’re watching us play, you’re not watching the game, are you? No… You’re staring at Azriel’s tight, perfect ass, aren’t you? I see the way you watch him.” You can only moan in response. Cassian’s fingers slip into your hair on either side, holding your head back against the lockers, his movements becoming relentless.

“And don’t think I haven’t noticed the way your eyes go to Helion between plays, when he takes his helmet off. You love how big he is, how powerful. You get off on watching him, don’t you?” The tension between you both is palpable, but his eyes are fixated on you, a storm of emotions swirling within them. “I see you staring whenever any of them are in the penalty box. You’re not thinking about the game then, are you? Bet you wish you were in there with them. You’re probably thinking about Tarquin’s pretty blue eyes, you want him to pin you with that look, don’t you? Or Rhys’s hands, wanting them all over you. And Eris,” he spits out the name, pairs it with a particularly rough thrust of his hips. “You eat up the way he flexes his arms when he flirts with you, I know you do.” The locker room fills with the sounds of your shared breaths, the slap of skin against skin, and the harsh whisper of his voice.

Each name, each accusation, sends a wave of shame through you. You want to deny it all, but Cassian’s relentless pace and your restrained position make it impossible. The truth is, you do think about those things — more often than you’d ever admit. The thoughts swirl in your mind, but they never take away from the attention you give Cassian. You’re most often fixated on him during games, your eyes unabashedly stuck on the way his body moves. The powerful stride of his legs, the way his strong hands grip the stick, the intense focus in his eyes. Your mind almost always lands on thoughts of his sweat-slicked skin, the hard lines of his body beneath the uniform. Your desire for him gets overwhelming, which is why the current activity is typically the one of choice after these games.

This was the first time you hadn’t waited until home though.

He continues, his movements relentless. “You know what Eris told me out there, baby? Who am I kidding, of course you don’t, you were too busy entertaining the rest of the guys, isn’t that right?” You try to respond, but choke on his length, his brutal pace bruising the back of your throat. “Isn’t that right? Answer me (Y/N),” he growls, keeping your head firmly pressed against the lockers.

You try to answer, but all you can manage is an unintelligible garble, gagging as you attempt to speak. If there weren’t already tears in your eyes from the physical strain, there certainly would be after hearing his cold, short laugh.

“Can’t even own up to it,” Cassian tsks. “He told me that you,” he punctuates the ‘you’ with a particularly deep thrust, “have been running around telling them all how badly you want them. That you give them fuck-me eyes when I’m not around. Is that true, baby? Have you been going behind my back? Want them to pass you around and take turns with you?” At each question he pulls almost all the way out, slamming back in soon after. You manage a quick shake of your head before his grip tightens on it again. You can only look up at him with your tear-brimmed, pleading eyes. “No, I didn’t think so,” he murmurs, a thumb grazing soothingly across your cheek. You may have taken comfort in it if you didn’t know any better.

“I knew you wouldn’t say those things,” he says calmly, but suddenly pulls himself out and leans over you, forcing your head up to look at him. “But you think them, don’t you?”

You’re still trying to gasp in air as you fight to respond. “No,” but you don’t sound convincing. Not when your voice is so hoarse. “No, I promise, I never said those things — never thought them either.” You’re coughing, trying to regain your composure, and you’re grateful he gives you a moment.

“Take off your pants,” he orders suddenly, the command sending a jolt of anticipation through you. You stand slowly, and your hands tremble slightly as you obey, slipping out of your pants and kicking them aside. His eyes rake over your body, lingering on the sight of his jersey hanging loosely on you, the contrast between the oversized shirt and your bare legs making his pupils dilate with desire. “Keep it on,” he adds when you reach for it. Cassian leans forward, now eye-level with you.

“Come on,” he breathes out, a hand snakes under the jersey and onto your bare hip, those calloused fingers squeezing. “You can’t honestly tell me you don’t think about them. How their hands would feel if they were running up your thighs, grabbing your hips, pulling you close.” His actions mirror his words deliciously, and his words pour over you in a dangerous whisper, the heat of his breath against your ear sending a shiver down your spine. ��About how it would feel to have their hands squeezing and groping you wherever they wanted. How about if instead of stealing little touches here and there, they grew some fucking balls, grabbed you by the hips,” his fingers dig in firmly, and you catch him tilt his chin to his shoulder, a glimpse of his true nature shining through the silent signal to grab on, “and lifted you up like this?”

You barely have a moment to grab on when, with a swift, powerful motion, Cassian lifts you up, pressing you against the lockers. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, and your arms around his neck as he holds you there, his body pinning yours and his hands holding you up by your ass. The cold metal of the lockers contrasts with the heat from both of your bodies. You try to arch away from it, but only manage to push yourself flush against him, feeling the undeniable hardness of him pressing against your core, a reminder of how desperately you both want this. The sensation sends a jolt of electricity through you, making you gasp and tighten your grip around his neck.

You want to deny it, to insist that your thoughts are innocent, but the intensity of his gaze tells you he wouldn’t believe you. You swallow hard, the taste of him still lingering on your tongue, as you shake your head once more, more for your own reassurance than his.

“It’s not like that…” you plead, trying to catch your breath, eyes wide with a mix of defiance and vulnerability. “I—” Your voice falters, the words stuck in your throat. “You don’t understand.”

Cassian’s eyes narrow, his grip tightening ever so slightly. You knew there would be bruises later. “Enlighten me,” he growls.

You take a breath. “When I watch you out there, all I can think about is how much I want you,” you confess. “The way you move, the way you lead and command everything… It drives me crazy. They’re just petty distractions. You’re the one I can’t resist. The one I crave,” you assure him, moving the stray hair from his eyes. “You’re the one I want, Cassian. Only you, you know that.”

His expression softens, as do his fingers on your skin, his intense gaze seeming to melt as he absorbs your words. He leans in closer, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with your own. “Maybe you’re right,” he murmurs, his voice tender, almost vulnerable. “Maybe I’ve been too harsh.” A hand rubs your side soothingly under the jersey, making its way up to massage your breast.

You smile softly, but just as you begin to feel a sense of relief, his grip on you tightens again, a bit painful on your breast. There’s a familiar, dangerous glint in his eyes. “But then again,” he whispers, “I can’t just ignore the way you look at them, baby. I can’t let that go with a few sweet words from those pretty lips of yours,” he catches your bottom lip between his teeth, pulling softly before releasing it. “You like their attention, being desired by them. Just admit it.”

You hesitate, your mind torn between denial and the undeniable truth. Unable to look him in the eyes, you nod slowly. Your voice is barely a whisper when you speak. “I do…”

“That’s what I thought,” he murmurs, voice low and pensive. He presses you harder against the lockers, his hands roaming over you slowly, almost absently. “Enjoy it all you want, but don’t you dare let them think they have a chance. You know who I mean.”

Your heart races as you nod, whispering, “Eris.” It was obvious.

Cassian frowns. “It wasn’t a question,” he snaps. “I let you play these pathetic little games of yours, but don’t think for a second that it’s an invitation to have another man’s name on your lips while I’m inside you.”

With a sharp, forceful movement, he thrusts into you, the suddenness making you cry out, the sound bouncing through the tiled room. “Do you understand?” he demands, and you nod again, vigorously this time, a soft whimper escaping your lips at the fullness.

Without another word, he finally captures your mouth in a fierce, possessive kiss, his tongue gliding over yours with a fervor that leaves you breathless. His hands slide down to your thighs, and he begins to move against you. There was nothing soft or caring about it, the motions unyielding and powerful. His hands grip you tightly as he fucks you into the cold metal of the lockers, his thrusts hard and deep.

“Is this what you wanted?” His voice is harsh and taunting. “To be fucked like this, right here where anyone could walk in? You think about this every time you see them, don’t you?” That’s when you remember that you are, in fact, in a place where anyone could find you like this. A blush rises to your cheeks at the realization, and you can tell he gets off on your embarrassment when he fails to suppress a smirk. You try grounding yourself by grabbing him wherever you can, hands out of his hair and grasping at his shoulders, nails digging in. “I know you like teasing them,” he continues, voice little more than a rumble. “Making them think they have a chance. They’ll never have you like this, (Y/N).”

His pace quickens, and he speaks into your neck. “Tarquin mentioned how you blush every time he catches you staring. What do you think about when you look at him, hm?” But you’re a mess, so lost in pleasure you can hardly process he’s asked you a question until he bites down on the crook of your neck. He doesn’t wait for your response, however, before he continues. “And Helion said you can’t keep your eyes off his arms. Is that what you want? You want his arms wrapped around you?” He changes his rhythm suddenly, now pulling out all the way to the tip before ramming back in.

“Do you understand how fucking embarrassing it is,” he starts, voice cold, barely heard over your screams and moans, “to have my team—my friends—telling me how they catch you practically drooling at them, that you’d take them over me if you got the chance?” You shake your head adamantly at that.

“No, Cass, you know that isn’t true!” You try to keep your voice even, to be taken seriously, but the lewd sounds in the air of him pounding your soaked, dripping cunt don’t do anything to help. It’s hard to continue when he leans down and sucks one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue dancing across the sensitive skin. “No one could fuck me as good as you do,” you breathe out, and you hope the moans cutting through your words are indication enough of it. “You’re the only one I want, the only one who makes me feel like this,” you manage to say between gasps. “They mean nothing compared to you.”

He appears to consider your words and you think he might be convinced, but nothing changes. Other than, perhaps, the smirk on his lips. “You know what Azriel told me while he was leaving? He asked if I needed any help with you in here. Can you believe that, baby?” His thrusts grow even more intense. “He had the nerve to ask me if he could join in…” A scoff. “As if I’d let him touch you. As if I’d share you with anyone else.”

“Don’t want anyone else,” you murmur, eyes going unfocused from the overwhelming sensation of it all, but he speaks over you, seemingly not having heard you. Nevermind the thought that they all likely knew what would transpire in this room after they left. You hoped it was only Azriel, with how observant he was.

“I can’t blame him though, can’t really blame any of them. It’s not their fault you’re such a sneaky fucking tease. It’s a wonder they don’t feel entitled to you yet…”

His words sting, but they also go straight to your cunt, and you feel yourself clench around him. His possessiveness, his dominance — it’s intoxicating. You try to respond, but your breath is practically forced out of your lungs with a loud moan as his pace quickens again.

“Look at you,” he continues, his voice dripping with anger and desire. “Barely able to form a sentence. Does it turn you on, knowing they all want you? Knowing that I’m the only one who gets to have you like this?”

You manage a shaky nod, and quip back. “I know it turns you on, how much you keep mentioning them.” It catches him off guard, your short moment of lucidity. For a brief second, he stills, eyes widening in surprise before narrowing again, a smirk tugging at his lips.

“Oh, you think you’re fucking clever,” he murmurs. “I know what you’re doing,” his nails dig into your skin as he thrusts into you, making you cry out, “and it won’t work.”

He shifts slightly, angling his hips to hit a spot inside you that makes you gasp in pleasure, hands scrambling for purchase on him, on the lockers, on yourself. The sound echoes through the locker room, mingling with the existing ones.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, I’m all yours, Cassian. Only yours, please!”

He groans, the sound vibrating through his chest and into yours. “Good girl,” he murmurs, his tone softening for just a moment before he resumes his relentless pace. “Again. Louder.”

“I’m yours!” you cry out desperately. “Only yours!” You find yourself wondering if there’s anyone left in the building, if they can hear you. You subsequently decide you don’t care. His eyes flicker down to the jersey number stretched across your chest, and a satisfied smirk forms across his lips. “Look at you, wearing my number,” his eyes are full of pride.

You nod, lips parting with a moan. “Wanted to show everyone who I’m here for. I belong to you, Cassian.”

“Damn right, you do,” he mutters, his movements becoming more desperate than forceful. You know your boyfriend well enough to know he’s getting close. Each thrust, combined with that knowledge, sends waves of pleasure through your body. “I want to hear you, baby,” he demands, his voice strained with need.

“Cassian!” you scream, your voice hoarse, broken by moans and cries. “Cassian, please!”

His breath puffs against your neck as he groans your name in return. The sound of your combined moans and skin against skin echoes off the walls. And with a particularly powerful thrust, he empties himself into you, your cries mingling when he doesn’t stop.

“That’s it, baby,” you whisper to him, running your hands through his hair soothingly, coaxing him through his orgasm. He shudders against you, his grip on you gradually loosening. For a moment, he rests his forehead against yours, panting heavily, his breath ragged. As the adrenaline rush fades, Cassian’s breathing slows, the intensity in his eyes softening. Slowly, he pulls out, leaving you feeling achingly empty.

But before you can protest, he lowers you to the ground, drops to his knees, and pulls one of your legs over his shoulder to rest your foot on the bench behind him. His hands slide down your thighs, feeling the mix of your arousal and his seed. “You didn’t think I’d leave you like this, did you?” he murmurs, voice filled with a renewed hunger. His mouth descends on you without warning, his tongue gliding over your sensitive flesh, tasting both of you. The sudden jolt of pleasure makes you gasp, your hands flying to his hair as he works you.

Cassian looks up at you, his eyes dark with desire as he devours you. “You taste so fucking good,” he says against you, the vibrations against your clit drawing a moan from you. His tongue works with relentless precision, each flick and swirl drawing out gasps and moans from you. His hands grip your thighs firmly, keeping you steady as he devours you. You can feel the roughness of his calloused fingers digging into your skin.

You clutch at his hair, your fingers tangling in the damp strands as you pull him closer. You rut your hips against his face, seeking more pressure, more friction. Every movement of his tongue sends shivers up your spine, your body responding to him with a need that borders on desperation. He knows exactly how to push you, bringing you close before pulling back, leaving you teetering on the brink of insanity.

His eyes lock onto yours, filled with a fierce determination. “I want to hear you,” he murmurs against your sensitive flesh, his breath hot and tantalizing. “Say my name.”

“Cassian,” you moan, your voice trembling with the intensity of your need. “Please, don’t stop.”

He smirks, lips curving against you as he doubles his efforts. His tongue plunges deeper, his hands squeezing your thighs tighter as he pulls you even closer. You can feel the building pressure, the coil of pleasure tightening inside you, ready to snap.

“Good girl,” he whispers. “Good fucking girl… Come for me.”

With those words and a final flick of his tongue, you shatter, your orgasm crashing over you. Your body convulses, your cries echoing off the tiled walls as you ride out the waves of pleasure. Cassian doesn’t stop, his tongue continuing to lap at you, drawing out every last bit of your release until you’re a trembling, boneless mess in his arms.

Finally, he pulls back, his lips glistening with a mix of your juices and his satisfaction. You feel his warmth spilling out of you, trickling down your thighs as he rises to his feet. His eyes blaze with a dark, possessive fire as he takes in your thoroughly spent form. There’s no need for words; the look in his eyes tells you everything you need to know.

Remember this, his look seems to say. Remember what happened here.

You meet his gaze, your own eyes still hazy with the aftermath of your climax. There’s no need for further declarations or reassurances; the intensity of what just transpired speaks for itself.

#velarisdusk hockey au #acotar #cassian #cassian acotar #cassian x reader #hockey au #hockey player au #hockey player cassian #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar smut #smut #cassian smut #tagging stuff is so embarrassing for no reason #i've hesitated posting this for DAYS now omgomg #have had to edit this like 5 times now for typos

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munsons-hellfire · 7 months

Text

The Power of Emotions | Eris Vanserra

SUMMARY: You are Feyre’s twin sister. But like your older sisters Elain and Nesta you were thrown into the Cauldron. Now dealing with the repercussions of your powers, your finally allowed to go to an event, where you discover your mate is Eris. Things take a turn for the worse after that.

PAIRINGS: Eris Vanserra x Archeron!Reader

CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ MDNI, smut, oral (m receiving), unprotected p in v, family drama, mentions of trauma. If I missed anything else let me know but I think that covers it.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: So this will be split into at least 2 parts maybe more I'm not sure yet. I also changed how the powers could be used. That being said, i'm very excited for this. I hope you all enjoy it!

WORD COUNT: 5.8K

PART 2

Cold. Cold. So cold.

You were drowning, not able to breathe.

Suffocating in the Cauldron.

Your body was changing, you were no longer a human.

Cries left your mouth as you fell out of your bed onto the floor. Shivering, teeth clattering, emotions on high alert. Others crashing into you. It was the same thing every night. Every night never changes since you were thrown into the Cauldron.

You squeezed your eyes shut and pulled your knees up to your chest and moved into the corner of the room like you did every night after your nightmare woke you up. You were silently hoping that someone could help you. But Rhys, and Cassian, and Azriel, and Mor, and Amren, they didn’t know what was happening to you.

Nesta was more concerned about Elain, then she was about you. Though you didn’t blame her, Elain was a ghost in a shell. The days had passed and the only one that had started to show any trace of concern for you had been the three brothers. Every morning one of them would come into your room to give you food and make sure you were up.

Every morning they’d see you in the corner of the room. Your eyes vacant, your knees pulled up to your chest, your arms wrapped around your knees holding them in place, and your empty eyes staring into nothing. They had all tried to talk to you, to get you to move but you didn’t. By nightfall you were too exhausted to hold yourself there anymore that you’d finally eat.

Then afterwards, you’d drink the mint tea that you’d come to love. One of the brothers always made sure there was a sedative in there to make sure you got some sleep. You knew they gave you a sedative but you didn’t mind so much, it allowed you some sleep for a few hours until the same nightmare woke you up again.

But this was different, today was different. Emotions were high, the highest they’d ever been. You could feel everyones, from Rhys, to Cass, to Az, to Mor, to Amren (or what she’d let slip), to Nesta, and to Elain. Dear sweet Elain, hers were the strongest, and they were hurting you. Tears were slipping down your face.

You were in the middle of the room crying, silently. Your teardrops fell to the lush black carpet in your room. Finally you couldn’t take it anymore and stood, then you started pacing around the room. Your words were chipped, but they were the same phrases.

“Stop.”, “Please.”, “No, no, no.” All these were the same phrases that left your mouth. Your eyes were almost empty. There was pain in them, not from the nightmare you’d had but it was there. This alone was just from feeling Elain’s emotions. You didn’t understand why hers were so strong today. You still hadn’t processed the fact that you could feel emotions.

As a human you’d always been good with picking up on people’s emotions, but now it was heightened. Now it was miserable. Feyre had been back for a few days now, no one had told her just how bad it had been for you, until he had finally broken and told her before they’d gone to sleep. Rhys stood next to his mate, pain in his eyes.

Feyre was messing with her fingers, staring at her twin. They were watching you pace around your bedroom repeating the same phrases over and over. Mumbling to yourself as you pull on your hair. Emotions were everywhere, you could even feel yours. It was overwhelming and you were drowning in the sea of emotions.

You still hadn’t told them that you could feel, sense, and manipulate emotions. You didn’t understand it though so maybe that’s why you hadn’t mentioned anything to them. Maybe that’s why you had dealt with it for so long. While it was too much at the end of the day it was better than being stuck in that Cauldron all over again.

Feyre briefly pulled her blue-gray eyes away from you and connected with violet eyes that had become oh so familiar to her. “She’s been like this since you came back from Hybern?” Feyre questioned her mate.

Rhys gave a nod of his head. “Yes. If not pacing then she’d been in the corner of her room, knees to her chest, vacant stare. She’d stay in that position until she grew exhausted and we could get her to eat and drink.” Rhys explained. He then paused, running his hand through his black locks. “Then it repeats, then some days she’ll be pacing. Today, Az… he said that it’s been a rough morning.”

Feyre looks back at her twin. “What does that mean?” Her voice is broken as she asks the question and it pains Rhys to see her in pain over her twin.

“I don’t know. I might have a theory but I’m not sure yet.”

A broken sob escaped your lips. You fell to the floor, covering your pointed ears. Elain’s sadness was swimming around you, hitting you right in the face and you couldn’t stop it. You couldn’t block her and everyone else.

“Stop.” You whispered. “Stop. Stop. Stop. Make it stop.”

You cried harder, more tears falling down your face and onto the carpet. Feyre stepped into the room leaving her mates side as the General and Shadowsinger appeared behind Rhys. This was the first time since she had returned from the Spring Court that she was seeing you. The first night Feyre got back you’d been asleep, knocked out. You weren’t mad at all, though you had assumed that she hadn’t stopped by when she had.

“Make it stop, please.”

“What’s wrong, sister?” Feyre asked, kneeling down next to you.

When she placed a hand on your back her emotions filled you, tangled with Elain’s emotions as well as everyone else's. A scream of agony broke free from your mouth. You scrambled on your legs backing away from Feyre, moving to the corner of the room and pulling your legs to your chest as you hid your head behind your arms. The three brothers saw the hurt look that had washed onto Feyre’s face. But it quickly disappeared.

“Tell me what’s wrong sister.” Feyre demanded, moving closer to you.

Feyre needed to know why you had recoiled at her touch, why you’d moved to the corner of the room, why you’d been acting so so different from Nesta and Elain since coming out of the Cauldron Made. Feyre briefly looked back at her husband.

“E-Elain, she’s so sad. So sad. It hurts.” You cried out. “You, you’re happy, and sad, and confused. Everyone else… it’s a mix, it’s all over the place. Please make it go away.”

Azriel knew exactly what you were. Rhysand knew exactly what you were, what you were capable of. Cassian tightened his jaw, this was going to be a headache. Not so much because he didn’t like you. No he already loved you like a sister, but if this was the confirmation of your powers they’d have to keep you hidden. They’d have to keep you hidden from Beron. He’d want you for his own personal gain. This was not good.

“What do we do now?” Azriel asked his brother.

“We keep her hidden until she’s controlled her powers.” Rhys spoke, both in Cassian’s and Azriel’s mind.

“First we need to get Feyre out.” Cassian added.

“Feyre, darling,” Rhys spoke out loud. Rhys stepped into the room and held his hand out towards Feyre as she looked back at him. “I need you to come with me back past the door.” He said softly, his violet eyes steady on his mate.

“What? Why? I’m not leaving my sister. I’m not leaving her alone to deal with this. I refuse to do that.” Feyre said, still looking at Rhys.

“Trust me.” Those were the only words that left his mouth.

The battle raged in her eyes between wanting to help her sister and wanting to listen to Rhys. She looked back at her twin. She hated seeing you in this kind of pain. So Feyre stood from the floor and walked towards Rhys placing her hand in his. He pulled her out of the room, seconds later a shield had been placed on the entire room.

You could breathe, somewhat. You opened your eyes feeling only your emotions and no one else's, Amren included. It was just as it was before you’d come out of the Cauldron, before you could feel every single emotion in that dreaded room including that King. You could still feel your power, still access it, but it was more contained by the shield Rhys had put up to protect you.

Finally you pulled your hands away from your face. Your eyes immediately found your sisters, for the first time since exiting the Cauldron a small smile graced your lips.

“How’d you do that?” You asked, eyes on Rhys as you picked yourself up from the ground and walked away from the corner. You moved closer to the door and stared at each of them.

“You’re an Empath, Y/N.” Azriel stated, Feyre looked at him with the same shock that you had on your face.

“You can feel everyone’s emotions, can manipulate them and use them to your advantage. You can even manipulate your own. You’re a very powerful Empath, considering they’re a legend. You just don’t know how to control your power yet.” Cassian added, reciting from what he knew of Empath’s.

“This shield will protect you from our emotions while you learn to control your powers. If any of us step inside your room we will have a shield around us so you can’t feel them until you're ready to try and manipulate them.” Rhys paused, his violet eyes falling onto Feyre. “We’ll need to learn all the history we have on Empath’s, it’s not much but it’ll help. We will help you learn to control it, Y/N.”

You gave a nod of your head. “Thank you.” You breathed out. For the first time since you’d arrived at the Night Court you finally felt a sense of peace. To know the true name of your ability, it no longer seemed like a curse.

It had taken you six years to fully train your powers. During that time you’d healed, you’d trained with Nesta, Gwyn, and Emerie. You’d done the Blood Rite with them and completed it. You became a Valkyrie. You’d never again be the same as you were when they broke into your home, took you away. You’d never be weak again.

Your powers had become your friend, you’d learned to block emotions out that weren’t your own. You’d learned to manipulate them, to get others to do whatever you needed with just the single ability of manipulating your emotions. It would’ve helped in the Blood Rite but you made it far.

Training with your older sister had allowed the two of you to heal the broken relationship you’d had with each other. Now you couldn’t imagine not having a close relationship with Nesta. You were finally ready to step outside the Night Court for the first time since being Made. Rhysand wanted to test the limits of your powers.

Tamlin was hosting a party in his Court. Most were hesitant to travel to the Spring Court. He sent word that his court was finally rebuilt. He was hosting a ball. All Courts were invited, though you doubted that anyone from at least the Autumn Court would show. In the six years it had taken you to hone your powers you had discovered what they made you capable of.

Cassian was right, you truly were powerful and if Beron found out he’d want to have you. He knew that Beron would like that you could manipulate the emotions of others. That would likely be the moment they’d strike their bargain with Eris and kill the male so Eris could take over as the High Lord. You stood near a wall, a glass of wine in hand. You were near Cassian and Nesta, who were on the dance floor with a few others.

Some of the High Lords had stopped by and asked for a dance. You’d turn them down except for Helion. He’d piqued your interest. He was a beautiful male, it was glorious that he had created Lucien. Elain and Lucien were perfect for each other. In fact all your family was perfect with their mates. Even Mor and Emerie had started seeing each other and it made you so excited.

But now more than ever you felt so alone. You were thankful to be Feyre’s twin sister and thankful that they’d hidden you to keep you safe but now you felt as though you were missing something. You swirled your red wine around before taking a sip of it. Your eyes landed on your twin. She was so happy, dancing with Rhys with his hand on her belly. They were expecting their second child.

Nyx was also on the dance floor, the happiest smile on his little face as he danced with his parents. Everyone was happy, so so happy. And you, well, you were sad, so so sad. It was moments like these where you missed having your father around. A tear slipped down your cheek and you were quick to wipe it away. But that didn’t stop more from falling down.

There was a presence beside you, and now more than ever you wished the wall would swallow you whole so this stranger didn’t have to see you cry. You shouldn’t be crying; this was a happiest event. Tamlin had announced his mate's pregnancy at the start of the ball and here you were crying because you missed your father and you felt so alone.

“I don’t believe we’ve met.” His voice was oh so soothing as it echoed through your pointed ears. It was a voice you wouldn’t mind hearing on a regular basis. You were drawn to it and you didn’t even know why.

“My apologies.” You remarked, still not looking at the male. You’d tried to keep your voice steady as the words came out but it was broken. He kept his gaze on you, like he was refusing to remove his eyes from you.

“Oh, come on, Little Fox. Don’t be so mean.” He paused when you finally turned to get a better look at him. You took in his toned body or rather what you could see through the warm Autumn suit he’d been wearing. His red hair was short but styled neatly. Finally your eyes landed on his beautiful amber eyes. “Like what you see, Little Fox?” He smirked.

You rolled your eyes. “As if.” You mumbled, looking back down at your wine.

“I’ll repeat what I’ve already said, I don’t believe we’ve met.” He said holding his hand out to you hoping you’d take it. While he didn’t know exactly who you were aside from belonging to the Night Court just from the scandalous dress you were wearing. That was one thing he was certain of, the other being that you were his mate. He felt the golden thread in his chest the moment his amber eyes landed on you.

“I’m Y/N. I’m Feyre’s twin sister.” You said, taking a hold of his hand and shaking it. There was a spark she felt when he touched his hand, though she wasn’t sure if it was due to his powers or because she felt something between them. And for some reason, you couldn’t get a read on his emotions which was odd considering you could feel everyone else's.

“Eris Vanserra.” He paused looking out at your sister and her mate who were now looking over at you two. “I didn’t know Feyre had another sister let alone a twin. You two look nothing alike.”

You smiled at the mere mention of his name. Oddly enough you wanted to say it more and it was included in the bedroom. Shock found your face, why were these thoughts all of a sudden coming to mind.

“We get that a lot.” You smiled softly at him. The male felt that his knees would give out any moment if you continued to smile at him.

“Would you care for a dance?” He asked, hoping you’d say yes.

“I’d like that very much.” You placed your drink down on the table and placed a hand in Eris’.

He pulled you out to the dance floor. Some of the other’s had stopped dancing to watch you and Eris. He placed one hand on your hip while the other was in your hand. You rested your other hand on his shoulder, that sweet smile he was starting to like was still on your lips. Music began playing and the two of you began to dance, ignoring everyone in the room.

“So, dear Y/N, why has your High Lord and Lady kept you a secret?” Eris asked, as you and him spun around the room. More eyes were on you now but still you didn’t care. It was only you and Eris in the room and no one else.

“After I came out of the Cauldron I had a really hard time with a lot of things including controlling my power. They kept me locked up and protected until I got control. I trained with my older sister, made some new friends. Completed the Blood Rite and became a Valkyrie. Now I work alongside Cassian and Azriel going on missions. But Feyre and Rhys thought it was a good idea to finally bring me into the world of the Fae officially.” You explained.

Angry flared inside his chest at the mention of what had happened to you. “They kept you locked up?” He asked, bypassing everything else.

“It was a universal agreement, I couldn’t step outside the shield.” You shouldn’t be telling him this. But you felt comfortable around him, you trusted him completely.

“They locked you up.”

“Why does it bother you? We barely know each other.” You paused taking a breather. You didn’t want to talk about your powers not here. But he wasn’t giving you a choice, and you were trying to manipulate his emotions to move him away from the topic but it wasn’t working. It was like he was immune to your powers.

“It doesn’t matter. They kept you locked up these last 6 years.” His voice was the same.

“No. No. No.” You paused, then the two of you stopped dancing and the room erupted into an applaud.

But you didn’t hear it, your ears were ringing. The gold thread was tying around your heart. You were lifting your hand to your chest, a gasp coming from your lips. Eris was your mate, and suddenly everything made sense. You grabbed his hand tightly and pulled him off the dance floor leading him out of the room. Rhys and Feyre had watched the exchange between you two.

“She’s his mate.” Feyre said, a devastated look on her face.

“I think so, Feyre, darling.” Rhys’ voice was smooth as he agreed with her.

You and Eris walked into the hallway where no one else was. You walked into another room and closed the door behind you. Eris stood still watching as you turned from the door and looked at the male that was your mate. You knew the stories surrounding him, you had heard what he had done to Mor and now you were even more confused that the Mother thought this male was supposed to be your mate.

As you looked at the princling before you, you saw the sudden change in his posture. It was just the two of you and there was no audience. This male standing in front of you was so different from the mask he wore outside surrounded by everyone else.

“Why did they lock you up? Why did they keep you away from me? Six years they kept you hidden from me. Six years we could’ve had to get to know each other, exploring each other.” Eris’s anger was evident in his voice and you were trying so hard to change the way he was feeling but it still wasn’t working.

Tears started to break through again. “Because I was thrown in that Gods damned Cauldron. I was turned into a High Fae against my will. I struggled to not only control my emotions but I struggled to control blocking out everyone else's emotions. They were attacking me and I couldn’t breathe, I was drowning from the nightmares, from the emotions, from the pain of everything. I’m an Empath for crying out loud and for the life of me I can’t figure out why I can’t manipulate your emotions.”

The words left your lips before you even had a chance to stop them. Suddenly Eris was in front of you, his hands cupped your cheeks. He was wiping the tears from your face, a soft look on his face.

“Shh.” He whispered softly. “I don’t know how much you know about an Empath, but typically they aren’t able to manipulate their mates emotions because their mate doesn’t need to hide anything from them.”

You looked up with tears at the edge of your eyes. “Ooh.” You nodded your head. You closed your eyes, inhaled, exhaled, then opened them again. “Rhys and Feyre wanted to keep me hidden out of fear that your father would take me and use my powers for his own advantage.” You felt Eris’s breathing stop, his body went still and he clenched his jaw as he looked down at you.

“I will not ever let my father get near you. You are my mate, I will protect you until my last dying breath.”

You couldn’t stop yourself, the gold thread in your chest was humming. You closed the space between you and Eris, then you placed your lips on his kissing him softly. He pushed you back against the door kissing you harder. His hand moved to the door knob and locked it to make sure no one would come in and interrupt you two.

Your hands find purchase in Eris’ red locks and you pull on them. You pull back from the kiss staring at him with glazed eyes. This is the last thing you expected to happen, but you need him, you need to feel him. Eris pulls your hands and walks you over to the bed. He pushes you down and crawls on top of you. His mouth finds your neck and he sucks some of your soft skin into his mouth. Eris moves his way down his mouth moving between your breasts.

His hands slid up your waist until they made contact with your breasts. A gasp left your mouth when he squeezed one of your nipples. Your scent was starting to mix with his and it caused a groan to leave his lips. Eris pulled his hands away from your nipple and moved down your body. Pulling your dress up off your body until it eventually comes off.

The only thing you were left in was your underwear and heels. An annoyed groan left your lips as you stared at Eris noticing he still had all of his clothes on. You leaned up just after he pulled your heels off and threw them onto the floor. You moved your hands up the length of his arm, pulling around his shoulder and down.

You grabbed a hold of his shirt at the bottom and pulled it upwards towards his head until it was off and discarded somewhere in the room. You placed a devious smirk on your lips as you moved your hands down towards his cock. It was hard and you couldn’t help but widen the smirk. You stood to your knees and shoved your hands down his pants dripping his cock tightly.

A moan left his mouth, his eyes fluttering close. “Gods.” A whisper breath left his mouth. You moved your other hand up and started to untie the strings until his pants were loose enough. Then you removed your hand helping him out of the rest of his clothes. You sat him down on the edge of the bed and moved in between his knees.

Your hand wraps around his cock and you start stroking it. Leaning forward you take his cock into your mouth swirling your tongue around the head. Eris lifts his hand grabbing onto your hair and moves it out of the way so he can watch you take his cock further into your mouth. You couldn’t fit the rest of his cock in your mouth so you used your hand to pump the rest.

This hadn’t been the first time you’d slept with someone you didn’t know. But Eirs was your mate, and you couldn’t wait to spend the rest of your life only hearing his moans as you sucked his cock. You pulled back, moving your hand up and down his length. You slipped your tongue out and moved to the bottom of the base and licked all the way to the top.

You sucked the head of his cock back into your mouth moving further on his length until you started to gag. Eris exhaled, pulling you off before you could have a chance to make him cum. You looked up at him, a sly smile on your lips.

“As much as I’d like to cum in that pretty little mouth of yours I need to be inside of you now.” Eris stood and picked you up, throwing you on the bed. Your legs were bent at the knees. He grabbed a hold of your underwear and pulled them off, throwing them on the floor. He moved closer to your cunt and licked a stripe from bottom to top tasting your juices.

He groaned at your taste. A moan left your lips and Eris moved up your body. He grabbed onto his cock and slid it through your folds getting his cock wet. Eris finally thrust his cock inside you, both you and him moaning in unison. Eris bottomed out inside you. His arms rested on either side of your head and you had wrapped your legs around his waist.

“Gods, you’re so tight, Little Fox.” He moaned out, closing the space between you and kissing your lips again.

“Please.” You whispered when he pulled back from your mouth.

“Please what?” He asked with a stern voice.

“Please move.”

He smirked at you. “Such a pretty Little Fox.” He whispers in your ear.

Eris pulls out, then shoves his cock back in. He starts to pick up his pace, his hips slamming into you. Another moan escapes your lips, your eyes close tightly feeling him inside you. Feeling so close to him like you’ve never felt before.

“So good.” You moan out. Eris pulls one of his hands away from your head and wraps it around your neck. A groan escapes your lips as he tightens his hand around your neck. You can feel your orgasm getting closer just as you feel Eris hit that sweet spot inside you. “Close.”

“What a needy little thing you are, mate.” He breaths, continuing to snap his hips into you. His cock pulled out only to be pushed back in. He can feel himself getting closer to his release but he wants you to get your release first.

“Yes. Gods yes.” You reply. The thrum of the gold bond sitting in both your chest grows brighter and brighter as you both get closer to your release. Eris pulls his hand from your throat and moves his thumb down to your clit circling it. That’s all it takes, your release hits you and you tighten around his cock.

“That’s it. Cum for me, Little Fox. I’m the only one who will ever make you feel this good. You’re mine.” He tells you.

“Yours, all yours.” You moan out. Finally Eris feels his release hitting him. He spilled deep inside you. Dropped his head into your chest and exhaled. Eris slowly pulled out and laid down on the bed next to you and pulled you into his chest. You felt the blanket being over you, your head rested on Eris’s chest. “So what now?” Your voice was soft and afraid as you asked the question.

Your earlier words of what his father might do to you replayed in his mind, Eris turned his head and looked at you finding you already looking up at him. “I think it’s time I kill my father.” He whispered.

You picked yourself up, pulling the sheet with you to cover your chest. Eris was standing pulling his pants up. There was a serious look on your face. “What? You can’t be serious? I mean that’s… Why do you want to do that?”

Eris turned around, his amber eyes resting on you. “I’m protecting my mate-” Before anymore words could leave his mouth the door was slammed open. Rhys, Feyre, Cassian, Nesta and Azriel walked into the room.

“What are you doing?” You asked, looking at your family.

“We could ask you the same. Sleeping with the enemy?” Azriel questioned a voice void of any emotion.

“Please, get out.” You whispered softly, looking away from them. Yes they were your family and you loved them all but they still made you feel like you weren’t a part of the family. Eris noticed the sudden change in your body, like you were trying to pull away. Feyre looked at the boys, and they turned around. Then Nesta walked over to you grabbing your clothes.

“Get up, get dressed, we’re leaving.” Nesta ordered. She gripped your arm and pulled you from the bed. A whimper escaped your lips.

“Let go of her.” Eris ordered, his angry eyes resting on Nesta’s grip on your arm. You and Nesta looked back at the male.

“She’s my sister.”

“And she’s my mate, and you’re hurting her. Let go of her.” The glare was evident on his face as he continued to stare.

“Go get changed now, Y/N.” Nesta was glaring back at the male. You nodded your head and walked into the bathroom. You could hear them arguing as you changed back into your dress. You didn’t want this. You opened the door and the scene before you horrified you.

“Stop. What are you doing?” You asked Azriel who had a knife to your mates throat. He looked back at you.

“He’s manipulating you, Y/N.” You could feel everyone’s emotions. They were all on high alert, Eris had his eyes on you. He was calm, it was like he was trying to make sure you stayed calm too.

“How? How is my mate manipulating me?” Your eyes were glowing, something none of them had seen when they started training you to control your powers.

“He lured you to bed, slept with you. Now you're defending him, he’ll use it against you.” Nesta’s voice filled your ears and you looked at your older sister.

“Get out. None of you get to decide who I sleep around with. None of you decide anything for me. You’ve all kept me hidden for 6 years because you thought Beron would capture me and use me against my own will. And you might be right, that might still happen. But Eris, my mate, he will not do that to me.” You didn’t realize what you were doing until Eris was in front of you.

“Let them go.” His voice was soft, his hands cupping your face as you contorted your face in confusion.

“What?” Finally you looked around the room, your eyes landed on Azriel who was grunting over in pain, then your eyes found your older sister. She too was in the same position. “I-I did this?” You asked, staring at Eris. Feyre was near Nesta while Cassian and Rhys were helping Azriel from the ground.

“It’s ok, breathe Little Fox.” Eris gripped your hand, you'd never done something like this that much was clear. Nesta’s eyes landed on you a glare you’d never seen her give you.

“I-I-I’m sorry.”

Suddenly you could feel everyone’s emotions again, you couldn’t control it. You’d hurt two people you cared about so much. A cry left your mouth as you started to back away from Eris.

“I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean to. I didn’t mean it.” You were shaking your head moving back towards the window.

Rhys, Feyre, and Eris were walking towards you trying to keep you away from the window. The windows were opened but you didn’t know how far of a jump it would be. All you knew is you needed to get out of here. You needed to breathe.

“It’s ok, Y/N. We know you didn’t mean it.” Feyre’s voice said calmly. Everything happened so fast, you felt Rhysand’s power rumbling through the room. You didn’t mean to do anything, but Feyre was on the ground. The same pain that ran through Azriel and Nesta was running through her. The tears were back again.

“I didn’t mean to. Rhys, I’m sorry. I don’t. I don’t know what’s going on.”

“Let her go, Y/N.” Rhys’ voice rumbled, suddenly the rest of the High Lords, your sister and her mate, Mor, Emerie, and Gwyn were at the door. Eris looked back and saw his father, he had his eyes on you.

You nodded your head. Eris tried to walk closer to you, but you shook your head. Feyre could breathe again and that was all that mattered. You backed up too closely to the window and before Eris could catch you, you fell out. Eris was the first to turn around and run out of the room heading to the side of the mansion. You groaned, lifting your hand up to your head feeling a wet substance.

You pulled your hand away to see blood dripping down your fingers. Panic still running through your body you stood up and grabbed a hold of your dress taking off running. You felt dizzy. So dizzy. You didn’t know where to go, only that you had to get away. You didn’t make it far though, you ran right into the chest of someone else.

You looked up seeing the one person that Rhys and Feyre had been trying to protect you from the last 6 years. It wasn’t your mate, it wasn’t your sister’s, and it wasn’t any of your friends. Beron placed his hand on your arm and gripped it tightly causing you to whine out at the pain. You were sure that a bruise would be there tomorrow.

“You’re coming with me, Empath.” With those words the two of you winnowed away, disappearing from the party.

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