#sheer over-bodice

[gogmstuff]

1913 Dress worn by comtesse Greffulhe (Palais Galliera, Musee de la mode de la Ville de Paris - Paris France) photo - Pierre Bulloz. From twonerdyhistorygirls.blogspot.com/2016/12/the-extraordinary-style-of-countess.

[florencemtrash]

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Chapter One

Azriel x Day Court Librarian Reader

Summary: Y/n's clairvoyance is a gift from the Mother, but it feels more like a curse. With the power to gain knowledge through touch alone, Y/n holes herself up in The Alcove and hopes her powers and parentage will remain a secret. But things will change after the Summer Solstice ball and a chance encounter with a certain Shadowsinger.

Warning: Mentions of death and violence

The Shadowsinger & The Inkbird: Masterlist

Masterlist of Masterlists

Layers of gosammer fabric rippled with movement as you smoothed the bodice of your dress. Warm sunlight flooded through the stained glass windows, getting trapped in the sheer material until you glowed shades of yellow and blue. You tugged the sleeves over your hands and took a deep breath. 

It was a great honor to be invited to the Sun Palace, and for the Summer Solstice no less. The other Librarians of the 12th sector athenaeum - lovingly nicknamed The Alcove - had been absolutely astounded when the letter came addressed to you, hand delivered by pegasus. It was an honor. It was a great honor. You knew this. But your heart buzzed uncomfortably within your ribs like a bird desperate to take to the skies.

“Do I really frighten you that much?”

You swiveled your head to the side, finally acknowledging your High Lord after minutes of silence. Helion shot you a smile full of light and warmth. Light and warmth. Everything about Helion screamed it - from the sunburst crown on his head to the glow of his brown skin. He may as well have been carved from burnt amber. Helion’s very presence was enough to melt the hearts and open the legs of any fae - male or female. Even now you saw some of the female courtiers shooting you envious looks full of heat and longing. It made you cringe uncomfortably.

You shook your head, feeling the weight of the pearls woven into your hair settle at the base of your neck.

“No.” You said quickly, “I apologize, High Lord. It’s not you. I just… haven’t been around this many people before.” 

“You take after your mother,” Helion said, that bright smile slipping into something fonder, more full of regret, “She was never one for parties either.”

You’d taken after your mother in just about everything - your eyes, your hair, the way you walked, even the way you took your coffee. Maybe if your mother had allowed you to be around Helion earlier on you would have learned his charm, absorbed his charisma like a sponge. As it was, the only thing you’d inherited from Helion was a stubborn power you couldn’t control. 

You clasped your hands together behind your back, as if that would be enough to hide your talent. With the ability to absorb knowledge and memories through touch, Clairvoyants were incredibly rare and highly sought after in the Day Court. Helion had worked hard to conceal your power and your identity, so when you’d been given first pick of athenaeums following your apprenticeship, it was to no one’s surprise you’d chosen the one furthest from the city. 

The Alcove. Your home. How you wished you were there now, nestled away in your attic apartment above the library. Comfortable. Alone.

Helion’s gaze softened as he regarded you. He shouldn’t have been as much of a stranger to you as he was. But he was no stranger to your work - always methodical, always precise, always handled with the same degree of love and attention that fae showed their children. You’d nearly died protecting The Alcove when Amarantha ransacked the Day Court libraries, smuggled books and knowledge across court lines during her reign. 

Perhaps you had inherited some bold streak from Helion after all. 

“How many times have I told you to call me Helion?”

“Six.” You said without hesitation.  

“Of course you would remember such a thing,” He said, clicking his tongue, “Would you take a turn around the room with me?” He asked, extending a poor man’s olive branch, “I have guests I would like to introduce you to.”

You bit the inside of your cheek. You’d planned to remain glued to this pillar until nightfall, half hidden by the quartet that was beginning to rush the tune in time to the next song. The spirited piece was coming just in time for champagne drunk party goers to make their way to the dance floor. 

You sighed, “Must I?” The performance of it all - the dress, the hair, the party, the pearls  - was more than you were used to, something orchestrated by Helion to finally get you to leave The Alcove. He would have dragged you to more parties if you weren’t so stubborn about ignoring non-business related correspondences. Hence the pegasus. 

“Your High Lord commands it.” Helion said smugly and moved his arm out to the side, gesturing for you to leave your little bubble of safety. “And you may very well come to thank me.” 

You rolled your eyes, “Fine.” You waited a moment before saying, “Helion.” The casual name felt unfamiliar on my tongue.

He clapped his hands together, attracting the attention of one of the sons of Autumn. He shook his head of flames and scowled into his whiskey, handsome features twisting into something uglier.

“Finally!” Helion’s voice boomed, “Let’s enjoy ourselves.”

You chased after his long strides, hoping to stay within the radius of space fae gave to a High Lord. And it worked. For some time. You bounced between various pockets of fae, dodging servers with platters of cheeses, wine, pastries, and more balanced on shoulders. Helion’s deep voice reverberated off the walls as he laughed and clapped people on their shoulders, whispered in their ears, and threw casual, flirtatious winks. He shielded you from the vipers and introduced you to his friends as a talented researcher instead of his bastard daughter. But despite your best efforts, someone still touched you, and your power reared its ugly head.

It happened when one of the Summer Court delegates, drunk and giggling, crashed into a female in a flurry of teal silk, who - like a domino - fell onto you. You landed on your knees, palms stinging from broken glass as flashes of memory and knowledge raced through your mind.

A diagram of the Day Court cities taken in secret from the 29th sector cartography athenaeum. A page ripped from one of Helion’s private collection tomes. A sketch of a still, black lake, and the being of death and destruction that resided there. 

Koschei.

The name spilled onto your mind like ink in water, followed by horrible memories of slaughter and violence. Enough blood to turn the lake red.

The flood of information dulled and the female became nothing more than a willowy tower of tulle with ivory hair retreating into the crowds.

You gasped for breath, limbs shaking. 

The air. It was too thin here. Too suffocating.

Koschei

Koschei 

Koschei

“Are you alright?” A male asked. His deep, careful voice felt like the calm before a hurricane.

You jerked back from the scarred hands that reached for you, wrapping your arms around yourself as you scrambled to your feet. A horrible rip sounded through the now quiet ballroom as you tripped on your dress and tore the bottom layers. And if it couldn’t become more embarrassing, when you stood up you came face to face with none other than the Spymaster of the Night Court. 

Devastatingly beautiful - were the first thoughts that came to mind. So beautiful in fact that he shook you from your visions and the horrible power attached to the lake. The edges of him flickered in and out of existence, clouded by shadows that fluttered about like smoke above a flame. You flinched when they came closer to you before being wrenched back on some invisible leash. He was as gorgeous as the rumors claimed, every inch of him seemingly carved out of black obsidion. 

The flash of shame that crossed his hazel eyes quickly faded into nothing and he clasped his hands behind his back, cursing Cassian for convincing him to go without gloves tonight.

“Y/n, are you alright?” Helion neared closer to you, pointing to your bloody hands. But the pain was nothing. You thought your heart might burst in your chest from the nerves. The more you thought about your splattered remains on the crisp marble tiles, the worse you felt.

The other members of the Night Court looked on with concern. You recognized the other Illyrian warrior - The Lord of Bloodshed he was called. His wings were partially extended, shielding you from the worst of the crowd. And the High Lord and High Lady needed no introduction, decked out in their slim-cut robes and dress. The silvery embroidery reminded you of the stars in the night sky you gazed at when you couldn’t fall asleep and the rest of the Day Court denizens had long since snuffed out their lights. There was a dangerous beauty that wrapped around the group as tightly as the Spymaster’s shadows clung to his body. And you’d just embarrassed the High Lord of the Day Court - your father - in front of them.

Azriel stepped back, reigning in his shadows despite their many desperate protests, “I apologize, I didn’t mean to-”

But you ignored his words, gathered up your skirts, and ran towards the palace gardens, leaving nothing behind but a thin trail of blood and silk, the scent of vanilla, and a brooding, heart-broken Shadowsinger.

Heavy air mingled with copious amounts of perfume, gave way to crisp clarity. The sun was just beginning to dip towards the horizon, like two lovers whispering in each other’s ears as you sprinted down the stairs past two drunk Peregryn soldiers half-hidden behind a rosebush. Their tawny feathers dipped in and out from behind the leaves like ocean waves.

A child’s doll half-buried in ash. The ring of electricity in the air and the metallic, buzzing stench of blood and rot in your nose. Suffocating. Suffocating. 

It was terrible. Worse than any memory you’d slipped into before.

“Y/n!” 

Koschei.

Koschei.

Koschei.

Everyone had experienced horror under Amarantha’s rule and during the war against Hybern. You’d been subjected to it too many times to count. Every brush of skin, every well-meaning touch from someone else had been a cruelty. 

The lake. What’s buried beneath the lake? 

So why did this knowledge feel so different?

Andrian. ANDRIAN!!!

“Y/n! Stop!” Hellion’s robes billowed out behind him like sun rays, dazzling brighter than gold. 

What’s buried beneath the lake? 

What’s buried beneath the lake?

What’s buried beneath the lake?

You didn’t realize you were murmuring the words until Helion gripped you by the shoulders and spun you around. You were brought back by more comforting knowledge - Helion’s memories. Memories of you as a babe, chubby legs wobbling beneath you as you took your first steps into your mother’s waiting arms. A flood of pride entering his chest that felt more like sadness than anything else. 

“Y/n!” He shook you again.

He has a room made up for you in the Sun Palace. He hides all the birthday gifts there that he planned to give to you, but never did. You are one of his greatest regrets.

You blinked rapidly, clearing out your thoughts and shoving the High Lord back with all your might. You didn’t need this right now. You didn’t need two hundred years of fatherly guilt to catch up to you. To the both of you. Not tonight. Not ever.

Without another word you winnowed away. 

__________

“I’m sorry about that,” Helion said, rolling his shoulders and rubbing his hands together.

He was grateful the party had returned to its previous rhythms in his absence, but Rhysand took note of the discomfort ladeled upon his shoulders, the hints of regret in his eyes. It was a feeling he was all too familiar with. 

The sun continued to slip behind the peaks of the mountains, changing the temperature of the room as the ivory and gold-plated walls began to take on a warmer shade. 

“Y/n is not used to such spaces.” He explained, “I should have done more to prepare her for tonight.” 

Rhysand waved off the apology. “There’s no need for apologies, Helion.”

“I do hope she’s ok.” Feyre said. With a snap of Helion’s fingers the blood had been wiped from the floor along with the spilled wine and broken glass. “Her hands-” 

Azriel stiffened, his arms suddenly hidden from view by the shadows that wound up his arms. Feyre quickly changed the topic. “This Y/n, is she the Librarian you’ve told us so much about?”

Helion’s smile was a prideful one, “The one and only.” He lowered his voice, careful to shield his words from any curious ears with a faint blanket of magic, “I would love to claim the credit for helping with your last pregnancy, but in truth it was all Y/n.” 

Feyre blinked in surprise. Her second pregnancy - although much better than the first - had still been a struggle. Rhysand had reached out to Helion in desperation, hoping once again for a safer method of birthing their winged-daughter. After spending months on end combing through the deepest depths of the oldest Day Court libraries, she’d delivered to them a text on cesarean sections. The tradition was a human one, and had been considered too primitive for fae, but with Feyre’s success Madja was reevaluating its usefulness. The High Lord and High Lady had much to thank you for when it came to little Velaria. 

Cassian raised his brows and Azriel couldn’t help the small smile that teased his lips. For such a timid bookworm you’d saved them a great deal of trouble. All at once that sense of pride for a female he didn’t even know fell away. You’d looked at him with such… fear. Flinched away from his touch like you knew exactly the kind of monster he was when all he’d wanted to do was help you.

“We’ll have to thank her personally then.” Rhysand said.

He raised Feyre’s hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her palm and looking at her like the love-sick male that he was. He still had nightmares about Nyx’s birth - how pale Feyre had become, the stench of blood in the air, and Nyx’s tiny, motionless body. He was ready to offer you a mountain of gold for preventing such a thing from happening again. 

Azriel lowered his gaze, overwhelmed by the look that passed between the two mates. It felt like an intrusion to be standing in front of them. It was hard to see his brother and Feyre so openly affectionate with one another and not feel slivers of envy enter his heart. Cassian would have similarly been glued to Nesta’s side if she’d accepted the invitation, and although Mor was reluctant to venture out into the public world of courtiers with Emerie, she would have made it clear that she was taken. It meant that Azriel was often left to stand alone at events like this, gracefully rejecting the advances of males and females who hoped to lure the mysterious Shadowsinger into their beds. He’d been close to joining you in your solitude when Helion had charmed and whisked you away.

Azriel shifted his attention to the quartet, specifically to the little alcove to the left of the stage where he’d first noticed you. You’d stood there so quiet and observant, politely declining any male who offered you food or drinks or a dance. And there was no confusion as to why. You’d looked breathtaking in a pearly gown that clung to you like wisps of fog over the Illyrian mountaintops. 

“After the party I’ll take you to her apartment. Allow you all to properly introduce yourselves.” Helion said in a burst of brilliance.

Cassian prodded Azriel’s ribs, a knowing look in his eyes as he watched the now visibly uncomfortable Shadowsinger. 

But if Helion noticed, he didn’t care. If there was any collection of fae with the power to break you out of your shell, it was them.

“But until then! We dance! Come now Cassian, dance with me.” 

Cassian snorted as Helion clasped a muscular arm around his shoulders and heaved him over to the dance floor where fae were already congregated in a tangle of limbs and wine. Feyre and Rhysand joined soon after, the High Lady throwing back an apologetic smile as she joined the crowd with her mate and Azriel was left to stand alone once again.

Next Chapter ->

______

Author's note:

I have too many thoughts and ideas and got sucked into writing this one. Also, I wanted a nice Azriel fic to follow up Flame, Shadow, Beast so... enjoy!

Love,

Florence B.

Taglist: @rosebunnysblog @icey--stars @laceandsuch @coralseacourt @cherryinsalemverse @flowerprincezz @valeridarkness @annaaaaa88 @deeshag @bluesiphonsbaby @allyjoe755

[emissaire]

⌕. what kind of risqué photos have the jjk men set as their phone's background?

╰► characters: gojo, geto, nanami, toji, sukuna, choso

╰► warnings/includes: mdni, nsfw, explicit photos described, hinted bdsm play and just filth

↻ gojo satoru

it was of your ass, high up in the air, bright red and plump with the infamous g. toru marked on your skin. he has a wide variety of photos that includes your buttㅡ actually, in every picture, your ass takes the most portion of every image, BUT this particular one is his favorite because it shows just who owns you and he's possessive like that. he went out of his way to order a customized spanking paddle just for you so he can use it whenever you're out and bratting.

↻ geto suguru

it's the one you took on his birthday. the moment was so intimate and hot, he wanted to engrave it into his memory so he made you take a picture using his phone. though it was just the upper parts of your bodies where you were on your back in his large bed while he hovers over youㅡ one hand thumbing on your nipple while he busied his mouth on the other breast, suckling like a man parched and deprived. he even had his eyes closed as if he was savoring the taste of you on his tongue.

↻ nanami kento

at first glance, no one would suspect the seemingly innocuous photo. you were kneeling on the bed with the sweetest smile on your face, the lace bodice of what others would assume is a decent clothing, hugging your figure in the most perfect way. what they don't know is that under the sheer dress is your soaked cunt being pleasured by a vibrator which your boyfriend had its remote in his hand, and his thick cum seeping out of your hole and drenching your thighs.

↻ toji fushiguro

toji likes showing you off, he's never one to shy away when it comes to boasting about you to everyone. there's really no surprise when he sets all kinds of pictures of you as his backgroundㅡ whether they're silly, cute or just plain porn. recently he changed it to a picture of you, naked (save for your panties), sitting on his lap. instead of a bra that should cover your tits, his hands are the ones to shield them from prying eyes. your entire body is almost covered in the hickeys he gave you prior to taking the picture.

↻ ryomen sukuna

this man is very grumpy and doesn't like taking pictures oftenㅡ claims they're a waste of time because you always see each other anyway. that one morning though, he was very touchy and wouldn't leave you alone for at least five minutes. even when he found you browsing through your newly bought clothes and taking pictures of yourself, he just clings to you until you eventually found yourself in nothing but his shirt, his one arm around your waist while the other hand is inside your panties, rubbing your clit teasingly. he later demanded you to share the picture with him.

↻ kamo choso

he's easily flustered so he would never dare to use any of your naughty pictures for this so you HAD to do it for him. you live to see him buffering every time you tease him. you set a blurry, black and white picture of you covered in his creamy cum, your face adorned with the thick liquid from him and your expression in utter bliss. you had your tongue out which was also decorated with blotches of white. his thick fingers were weaved into your hair in a grip tight enough that his viens appeared too on the photo.

@emissaire 2022 all rights reserved - plagiarism is a crime

[thedroneranger]

Buzzing Romance

Robert "Bob" Floyd

Synopsis: You and Bob have always vibed, and now it's time for this budding romance to blossom.

Note: Hi, friends! I know I've been MIA around these parts. And I hate it, but priorities. Anywho, I wanted to stop by, drop this little gift and say happy Valentine's Day! And say thank you to those who continue to message, chat, tag and send asks 🖤 This fic is a companion to Vibe Check and Sending Vibes. Reading one or both will provide additional context but isn't mandatory. Enjoy!

Warnings: 18+ only, fluffy but sex toys.

Word count: 1.1k

Bob wanted tonight to be perfect. Along with dinner at a steakhouse you’d been jonesing to try, he had a beautiful bouquet of roses to give you. 

Ever the perfectionist, Bob had called his florist friend, Riley. Since Bob always made sure Riley was on the shortlist for any local Navy events, he had an open line of favors ready for redemption.  

A few days later, Bob spent over an hour in Riley’s shop, before she opened at seven in the morning, handpicking the biggest, reddest roses.

Later after work at home, Bob spent another 30 minutes adding the final touch. A 25th rose that would never die—as long as you kept it charged. He wanted to confirm that not even a petal was out of place, and the rose-shaped vibrator was well hidden so you didn’t notice at first glance. 

Meanwhile, you were at your place—a rare occasion on its own. However, you were also giddy to get glammed up and go out on a real date with Bob. The thought made you laugh. 

It was clear you and Bob were in this for the long haul, but nothing about your relationship was traditional. You’d been seeing each other exclusively—a mutual decision—for nearly a year but had yet to formally define the relationship. 

Hell, you were still discovering new things about one another. Barely a month ago, Bob found out about your culinary skills when you cooked him his favorite meal as a welcome home surprise. 

The same night he also saw you in something other than an oversized Naval Academy t-shirt for the first time. You thought Bob’s eyes might bulge out of his head when you donned a sheer nude bra and panty set embroidered with the most delicate flowers.

You were hoping Bob would have a similar reaction tonight when he saw you dressed up for something other than a work-related gala. Your gala gowns were always striking but also conservative since you were among colleagues and leadership. Secretly, you hoped Bob fantasized about what was under your garb during galas as much as you fantasized about what was under his dress uniform. 

Your phone shook you from your fantasies. Bob messaged to check that a 6:45 pickup left you plenty of time to get ready. After responding, you put your phone back on the bathroom counter to inspect your face one more time before going to your room to put on your outfit. 

Bob was having nearly the exact same thoughts about your relationship, firsts and fantasies as he stood in front of the mirror, deciding which switch shirt to pair with his slim-cut gray suit. It felt cliche, given the holiday, but he decided to go with a soft pink shirt. One last check of his carefully styled hair, and then Bob was sliding into his two-door 90s Silverado. 

Fifteen minutes later, Bob rolled to a stop in front of your rental. Flowers in hand, he strode to the front door. He poked the doorbell and waited. 

You didn’t even bother to look before you flung the door open. “Hi,” you sweetly greeted him. He nearly dropped the bouquet. Bob couldn’t help but let his gaze roam over your body. 

The sheer bodice and the low sweetheart neckline of your top had him reminiscing about his first night home from his last deployment. The silk high-waisted midi skirt and strappy heels you paired it with were the perfect compliment.

Remembering he was standing on your doorstep, Bob’s wits came about him. “You look amazing.”

“Thank you.” You chuckled. There was no way Bob’s cheeks weren’t as red as the flowers in his hand. 

“These are for you!” He gently held the bouquet out. 

Your face lit up as you used both hands to take it. “These are gorgeous! Do I have time to put them in water?”

“Of course.” Bob smiled. “I’ll get the door.” You thanked him and turned to go inside. He closed the front door and trailed you into your kitchen. 

“Here.” You gave him the bouquet back as you reached into the top of a cabinet to get a vase. While your back was turned, he adjusted the vibrator to be a smidge more obvious. “Come.” You waved a hand from him to join you at the sink. 

While the vase filled with water, you grabbed some scissors, and then turned off the faucet. Then you pulled a rose from the bunch to snip the bottom. “These are gorgeous, Bob.”

His smile widened. “I hand picked them.” You stopped to look at him in disbelief. He shrugged. You smirked as you grabbed another rose and trimmed the end before placing it in the vase. Bob watched as you continued to pick roses and diagonally trim the ends. 

Then, you saw it. You froze and looked at Bob. He was smirking. Your expression morphed to mirror his as you unearthed the rose-shaped vibrator. Your eyes flitted between him and the toy. 

“It’s kinda our thing, isn’t it?” He said with a wink. Bob placed what was left of the uncut bouquet on the counter. You also sat the vibrator there, and then wrapped your arms around his neck. His hands came to rest on your hips as he looked at you. 

“You never cease to amaze me, Bobby.” Your gazes were locked. Your fingers brushed the short hairs at the back of his neck. 

“I have to admit my intentions aren’t purely altruistic.”

“Oh?” Your eyebrow arched as he began to slightly sway you as if music were playing.

“I want to take my girlfriend to dinner.” Bob stopped moving and let his hands wander to the small of your back to pull you closer.

You bit your lip to cull the smile involuntarily pulling the corners of your mouth. “I would love for my boyfriend to take me to dinner.” You could feel the excitement in Bob’s embrace. “And afterward, I hope he’s willing to test out the gift he bought me.”

Bob’s face lit up with both a smile and rosy cheeks. He gladly accepted your lips against his and let his hand drop to cup your backside. You caught him off guard by nipping his lip when he gave you a squeeze. “Let’s skip dinner. I want to go straight to dessert,” he stated. You giggled as you uncoiled your arms from his neck and let a hand come to rest on his chest.

With a playful eye roll, you turned to the counter and finished trimming the roses. Patiently, Bob watched you situate the blooms. When you were done, you took the vase to the living room and sat it in the middle of the coffee table. While you admired your bouquet, Bob went to the bedroom to leave a single rose on the nightstand—ready to keep your romance buzzing.

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[toxophilitis]

The Widow's Horny Family conclusion

CHAPTER TEN

Peggy bathed and spent a long time on her appearance.

She made sure that Donny had a bath, despite his protestations that he had had one that morning. After she had bathed, she sat at the vanity, naked, brushing her auburn hair. She was anticipating the evening, and it was revealed on her beautiful face and in her sparkling green eyes.

Donny came into her room as she sat there, and she winked at him in the mirror. He came up behind her and draped his hands over her shoulders, massaging her thrusting tits as he looked at her reflection.

“We’re going to visit next door, aren’t we, Mother?” he said. He was cupping her tits in a manner that caused her nipples to stand up and poke between his thumb and forefinger. When he lifted it, she lowered her head and shoved her tongue out to lick the tip of her own nipple.

“Yes, that’s where we’re going, darling,” she murmured softly.

“I thought so.”

She looked up at his reflected face. “Don’t you want to fuck Grace, baby?”

“Aw, Mother,” he pouted. “Just because she didn’t care, that I saw her naked don’t mean she’d let me fuck her.”

“Not long ago you said you wanted to fuck her.”

“I still do,” Donny said.

“Mmmm, you might be surprised,” she said. “Now, go dress and leave my tits alone. I can’t do anything with your feeling me up.”

He left her reluctantly.

Peggy was amused by his mixed feelings. He wanted to fuck the tall cool woman so much, yet he was afraid Grace wanted nothing to do with him. Her son, she thought, was in for a lovely surprise. Grace was a horny boy’s dream, the unattainable beauty that tie would fantasize about as he stroked his cock to discharge. Her son would be realizing his erotic dream in a few hours, she thought, pleased.

As Grace had asked, Peggy called a few minutes before they left to walk across the lawn.

“So we’ll know it’s you at the door instead of some salesman or whatever,” she had told Peggy.

It seemed unusual, but she did as Grace asked.

Wearing her new garter belt and flesh-toned nylons beneath her skirt and nothing else, she held her son’s hand as they walked across the lawn. She punched the doorbell and waited.

“Oh, my God!” she gasped as the door was opened.

Donny sucked in his breath sharply.

Standing before them was Susy, dressed in the frock Grace had shown her. Susy’s lovely tits were exposed, uplifted by the cut-out bodice. Her sweet nipples were already hard, bright-pink in color. She smiled shyly at Peggy and Donny as they stepped into the house.

Peggy sat on the couch next to Grace. Paul, sitting in his chair near the fireplace, greeting them without getting up. He was wearing conventional clothing—a sport shirt and slacks. The room was dim, and Peggy squinted, surprised to see that his slacks had been designed in such a way that his cock and balls were fully exposed. Turning to look at Grace, she saw the woman was wearing a blouse of such sheer material, her tits were completely revealed. Her skirt had a long slit up one side, a slit that ran to her waist. One creamy thigh was exposed, crossed over the other.

Donny was gazing at Susy. The girl turned her back to them as she started for the kitchen to bring in soft drinks. Her sweet succulent ass was fully revealed. Donny was looking from Susy’s cute ass to Grace to Paul and to his mother, confused about what was going on.

Grace smiled at him, lifting a hand. “Come and sit beside me, Donny,” she murmured. “I’m sure Susy won’t mind.”

Peggy watched her son as he moved toward Grace, seeing the front of his pants already starting to bulge out. She lifted her eyes to his, smiling. Donny sat next to Grace, and he shot a glance at his mother when the woman boldly placed her palm upon his cock, giving him a squeeze.

Peggy watched Paul’s cock lift into hardness as he sat there, now fondling his hairy balls with a big hand. Susy returned with a tray filled with soft drinks, passing them around. Peggy watched as the girl leaned over her father and lovingly felt his throbbing cock, giving it a jerk or two with her fist. She saw Paul run his hand up the back of Susy’s smooth, slim thigh and over the curving ass cheeks.

Watching this, seeing Grace begin to fondle her son’s thrusting cock through his pants, Peggy’s cunt went into a swift pulsation of delight.

She heard a soft snicking sound and turned her eyes toward Grace and Donny. Grace had pulled the zipper of Donny’s pants down and had his cock out, running her hot hand up and down his prick, cooing about the sturdy youthfulness of his cock. She was telling Donny what a lovely cock he had, such a hard prick and how much Susy talked about it.

The words she heard came in a throaty sound from Grace, but she was becoming so excited, she didn’t hear complete sentences, just a word or two to catch the meaning.

Peggy had always been a voyeur, and she loved to watch others fucking and sucking. It had been one of her greatest turn-ons when she had been with her husband at such parties. Now she turned her eyes to Paul and his daughter. Susy was bending over, still standing. Her sweet and innocent-looking face was close to the swollen head of his cock. Peggy began to breathe faster as she saw the girl kissing her father’s cock, brushing the moist piss hole back and forth with her lips. She saw Susy dart her tongue out and flick it about the dripping piss hole of her father’s cock, and Peggy pressed a hand into her lap, creating pressure upon her throbbing clit.

Turning once more to watch Grace with Donny, she was not at all surprised to see the woman running her tongue about his cock, licking with the flat surface of her tongue, running over his cock head and delving the tip against his piss hole.

Peggy, intensely excited by watching all this, pulled her skirt to her waist and scooted her ass to the edge of the couch, throwing her knees wide. She shoved her hand under the slit of Grace’s skirt, and Grace shifted her ass. Peggy ran her fingers over the bushy cunt of the woman who was licking Donny’s cock.

Paul was gazing at Peggy, his eyes, hot as he watched her begin to feel of her own hairy pussy. Peggy, in turn, gazed with liquidy eyes as Susy began to struggle, trying to take her father’s cock into her mouth. Since his cock was so large, the best Susy could do, Peggy saw, was to wrap her lips about his smooth prickhead.

There had been no conversation after the initial greeting, and the room wasn’t dimly lit anymore. Peggy could see everything clearly. The moist sounds of Susy sucking on the head of her father’s cock and Grace’s mouth devouring the full length of Donny’s cock filled her ears. Peggy plunged her finger into her cunt and began to fuck herself as she turned her eyes from Susy and Paul to Grace and Donny. As she began to fingerfuck herself, she slipped the finger of her other hand into Grace’s steaming wet pussy and fucked in and out.

Susy lifted her mouth from her father’s cock and Peggy watched as the girl spread her legs over his lap, her back toward her. Peggy’s eyes glowed with delight as she watched Paul cup those succulent ass cheeks in his big hands. Susy had hold of her father’s cock, and she was fitting his prick into her tight cunt, making soft squealing sounds of ecstasy. Peggy couldn’t see how that large cock could fit into such a cunt. Her pink pussylips stretched and Peggy saw the girl plunge her ass downward, taking every thick inch. Susy’s tight ass began to bounce up and down, fucking her father’s cock, soft squeals of ecstasy bursting from her mouth.

Again Peggy turned to look at Grace and her son.

Grace had moved, and Peggy was no longer fingerfucking the dark-haired woman. Grace dropped to the floor, lifting her knees and holding them wide. She saw her son gazing between the woman’s thighs. Grace, with a wicked smile of invitation on her beautiful face, lifted her crotch and motioned for Donny with a finger.

“Come and fuck it for me, Donny,” Grace said in a thick voice. “Don’t you want to fuck this hot, wet, hairy cunt? I’m a good fuck, you know, and I just love a cock like yours inside my hungry cunt!”

Donny shot a glance at his mother, and she grinned at him. “Didn’t I tell you it would be a good party, darling?” Peggy said huskily, still fucking her finger in and out of her pussy. “Fuck her, baby! Fuck Grace... you’ve been wanting to get your cock in her cunt, now do it!”

Donny went between Grace’s spread thighs quickly, and Peggy dropped to her knees at the woman’s hips. She grasped her son’s cock at the base and fitted his swollen prickhead into the woman’s cunt.

Donny fucked in fast, grunting as he was wrapped by the arms of the woman. Somehow Peggy managed to get her hand between their, bodies and loosen his pants. She tugged them down as his ass continued banging up and down. Now, with her son’s ass naked, she leaned over and began to kiss and lick as best she could. But he was fucking Grace so wildly and enthusiastically that she was almost being bruised about her hips. Lifting her head, Peggy watched Susy’s tight ass twisting and plunging on her father’s cock. Sliding a hand underneath the churning ass of Grace, Peggy clutched one cheek. Grace darted a hand out and between Peggy’s thighs, a finger fucking into her cunt.

The loud squeal from Susy told Peggy the girl was in the clutches of orgasm. No sooner had she heard Susy’s squeal than her son grunted and his body went stiff between Grace’s hot thighs. Shooting her hand between her son’s thighs, she pulled at his balls as he came, making the discharge more intense for Donny.

When Susy lifted from her father’s cock, she cupped her hand against her cunt and giggled. “I’m full of come juice, Daddy!”

Peggy suddenly reached out and caught Susy’s leg, pulling at the girl. Susy, still giggling, squatted over Peggy’s face, and Peggy shot her tongue deep into the come filled cunt, licking and sucking and swallowing with mindless ecstasy.

Half an hour later, Peggy found herself being undressed by Susy, Grace and Paul. Her son, watching with excited eyes, once again had a lovely hard-on, as did Paul. Peggy knew she was next for those cocks, and she was more than eager for them.

There was some talk going on, but Peggy heard nothing but the erotic roaring in her head. She was positioned on her back, and she felt her legs being lifted, her knees being pushed upwards. It lifted her ass and exposed her cunt, making her vulnerable to any cock that was close.

It happened to be Paul’s.

She cried with delight as his long thick cock fucked into her cunt. Then her son was above her face, his hard cock just above her mouth. Hungrily Peggy sucked the prick of her son deep into her mouth, tasting the juices left by Grace’s wet pussy.

With a wiggle of ecstasy, she shot her hips high into the air as Paul fucked his cock deep into her burning pussy, her lips sucking in a frenzy on her son’s cock. Then she felt wet mouths on her nipples, Grace and Susy sucking on them.

With her tits being sucked by mother and daughter, her cunt stuffed by Paul’s cock and her mouth filled with her son’s hard prick, Peggy was shivering with intense ecstasy. She was wailing around her son’s cock as she gobbled his prick greedily, hunching her ass up and down in a violent motion of mindless pleasure.

She found Grace’s hot thighs and shoved her hand between them, reaching for her hairy cunt. She began to fuck her finger in and out, her other hand locating the sweetness of Susy’s pussy. Now, being fucked in her hot cunt by Paul, her mouth sucking hard on her son’s prick, Peggy was fingerfucking the erotic mother and daughter, the woman she had always thought so cold and aloof, a woman with a pail of ice cubes up her shapely ass.

Every nerve of Peggy’s shapely body was burning, flames roaring and eating at her. Her cunt was in convulsions, her orgasms so strong she thought for sure they would rip her completely apart. With her hairy cunt sucking on Paul’s fucking cock, she fucked her fingers wildly in and out of the slippery cunts of Grace and Susy. She clamped her lips tightly about her son’s cock as he began to fuck in and out of her mouth. She felt the throbbing power of both pricks, and her eyes began to water with ecstasy.

So intense were her orgasms and ecstasy that she hardly realized when Paul gushed come juice into her cunt. But she knew when her son came... her mouth was flooded with the sweetness of his come juice. From a distance she heard the sobbing wails of Susy and her mother, feeling the way those two cunts flexed about her fingers.

After the four pulled from her, Peggy lay slumped in the middle of the floor, her flesh shivering as ecstasy continued to rumble through her. She felt hands caressing her naked body, but it was as though she was outside herself, watching.

Her eyes opened, and, through the tears of delight, she saw them sitting on the floor, each feeling the other. She spread her thighs and felt a cool, refreshing breeze from someplace waft over her overheated cunt.

“Oh, God!” she mewled, sitting up with an effort. “I’ve never had it so fucking good!”

She watched them feeling each other, then her son was pressing his face into Grace’s bushy cunt. Susy lowered her face to Donny’s cock, and began sucking him. Paul turned to Peggy, and she rolled on top of him, spreading her thighs about his face as she began eating at his cock.

Never again would she think anyone cold and unapproachable, as she had thought of Grace. With her mouth filled with Paul’s cock, she reached out and cupped her son’s balls as Susy sucked him, and she felt her son holding one of her tits as he tonguefucked Grace.

THE END

[simulatedstyles]

Louis-XV-Inspired Robe De Cour

A Maxis-Match Formal Court Gown

Hello my sweeties! I'm so proud to release this gown for all of your 18th-century saves. This has been in my WIP folder for so SO long, and after a bit of a hiatus from creating, I'm so happy I could finish it for you! This gown was inspired by the many portraits of King Louis XV's daughters in their formal court attire.

As usual, I've created different overlay accessories to maximize your customization options in-game. Through different combos of gown color and overlays, there are literally over 100 billion unique looks for this dress... 🤯 I cannot WAIT to see what you can come up with!

Here's What You Get:

70 Swatches in @anachrosims Georgian & Federal Palette

BGC

Teen-Elder, Female-Frame, Disabled For Random

Includes all LODs, morphs, shadow map, specular, normal map, & custom thumbnails

Mesh & Textures entirely from scratch!

* Disclaimer: given the sheer size of this mesh, along with the detailing of the sleeves, this content is much higher-poly than my previous content! (16k to be exact, but still lower-poly than some other alpha cc) ** Disclaimer 2: true to historical accuracy, the skirt is quite large on this gown! I've done my best with sims' arm placement, but please expect some clipping now and then.

70 swatches each in matching palette

All located in Facial Piercings category of Head Accessories

Only compatible with Robe De Cour

When using these overlays, the original swatch color chosen for the full body outfit remains as the main color of the bodice and train. You can then fully layer these overlays for different combinations of bodice detail color, bow color, petticoat color, bodice/train damask pattern, and/or petticoat damask pattern.

Download either the Individual Package Files or Merged Package File

[sundays-wing-piercing]

Listen listen listen. Now, this may be a bit too suggestive so feel free to ignore or delete.

Sunday is definitely a chest man. You cannot convince me otherwise.

You know those bodices with the structured corset whatever right? That when women wear it squishes up the chest? Sunday ADORES that. He absolutely loves the chest squish. He probably takes off his glove to feel the skin. He's a gentleman and won't stare, especially in public. However, in private, if you're comfortable with him? He stares. He stares SO much.

On top of that? Hes a thigh man. My hc is that he loves sleeping on thighs. Bonus points if reader is a lil thicc. He loves thigh-highs, the squish of your flesh, and how it slightly falls over the seam of the thigh-highs. So basically? He loves thighs, he loves the chest. ?Literally chicken breasts and thighs ig HABAHHQ)

– moon anon 🌘

You dare send me such an ask? That incredibly suggestive ask? Well lucky you im a boob and thigh lover and a Sunday boobs over ass truther

Btw fem bodied reader for this

God those corsets drive him crazy. Honestly It's probably not even sexual most of the time IDK HOW TO EXPLAIN IT BUT BAZONKA HONKAS ARE JUST AESTHETICALLY PLEASING. It may not look like it but he's fighting back demons in order not to stare. Excuse the clingy bird man please he just can't hold back any longer. His favorite way of cuddling is him laying on top of your chest while you stroke his hair/wings. How could he not they're just so soft (me next pls) a few more minutes please? He's been good afterall. 2 words, boob window. Thats all.

No can do? He'll just settle for your lap. They're just as soft. Man's wings are flapping like a dog tail whenever you wear stockings. The way they barely hold your thighs and how some overflow at the edge of the fabric. At this point im the one going feral GET OUT OF THE WAY IT'S MY TURN ON THE LAP PILLOW. Doesn't matter what type you wear. The normal ones, those with cute cat ears at the end, fishnets, sheer tights, lacy, GARTER BELTS?!? DEAR AEONS YOU'RE GONNA MAKE HIM OVERHEAT. Typa guy to have his hand on your thigh maybe under a table or in the car.

*taps mic* Sunday suffocating either between your legs or againts your chest. *puts mic back on stand as I get off the stage followed by everyone clapping at me as they throw confetti everywhere.*

Omg first named anon thank you thank you I LOVE WOMEN

[sapphenaa]

winter's frost | azriel x fem!reader

Summary: As Kallias' sister, you're expected to help maintain good relations with allied courts. Your newest ally leads you to the Starfall celebration, and it ends up changing your life much more drastically than you expected.

warnings: cursing

part two

It wasn’t your choice to go to the Starfall celebration in the Night Court. No, with your brother’s newfound alliance, you were required to attend the foolish party when you would rather be curled up in your room at the Winter Court, preferably with a good book and a steaming cup of tea.

Involuntarily, you rolled your eyes as you made your way out of your room, the gossamer of your steel blue gown whipping around your feet. You hated to admit it, but Viviane did a wonderful job at hunting down this dress. It was plated with silver metal around your bodice, the bejeweled collar connected by interwoven chains. It was complete with a smattering of sapphires adorning it, twinkling out at the top of the mostly sheer skirt. A warrior’s dress, beautiful but deadly, the plating similar to the armour you so often wore.

As you made your way down the stairs, you heard Viviane gasp in excitement whilst you fiddled with the quartz crown that adorned your head. “You look magnificent!” Viviane breathed out, a wide smile on her face. Her hand reached out to adjust the stray curls framing your face before stepping back to get another look at you. You smiled tightly at her before flicking your gaze to your brother.

“How long do we plan on staying there?” Kallias’ icy eyes were made of stone, his lips set in a harsh line.

“However long I deem is necessary to show Rhysand that he has our support.” You huffed out a breath at his response, your hair swaying at the movement.

“Then lets get this over with,” you quipped as you placed your hand on his arm. The three of you were swiftly encased in black smoke as Kallias winnowed your group in front of the House of Wind. You couldn’t help the gasp that left your lips as you caught sight of the dazzling house, more akin to a castle than anything. However, you weren’t given more than a couple seconds to admire it as your brother and his mate made their way to the front doors. You followed suit rather languidly, coming to a stop in front of the marble doors. Kallias raised his hand to knock, but the doors flew open before his knuckles could even touch the doorframe.

“Kallias, I’m glad you could make it.” A dazzling smile flashed and you knew immediately that the raven-haired man at the door was the High Lord of the Night Court. “Viviane, pleasure to see you again. You’re looking lovely as always,” he spoke as his eyes flicked over to hers before landing on you. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Rhys, and you are?”

You refused a curtsey, instead bowing your head slightly as you chimed out your name and rank. He smiled again before waving the three of you in, his magic swelling, nearly causing a tremble in your hands at the intensity of it. “Well, I won’t let you idle outside in the cold any longer. We have wine and an assortment of food waiting for you.” 

Once again you followed, keeping to the back in hopes that conversation would not be struck with you. However, as always, your luck was as rare as a four-leaf clover in winter.

“I never knew Kallias had a sister.” Rhys stated, his violet eyes meeting yours for a split second. You willed your expression from a scowl to a tight-lipped smile, already dreading the night to come.

“I’ve kept well hidden.”

“You have indeed.” He responded. Before he could inquire any more about you, a swift excuse left your lips.

“If you don’t mind, I would like to grab a glass of wine.” With a dip of his head you were excused, and you heard the start of a courtly conversation that would have had you ripping your hair from your head. You neared the refreshment table, admiring the faelights above you that twinkled like starlight as you walked. There wasn’t much for Starfall decorations, though you didn’t think the House of Wind needed any more ornamentation.

As you filled a glass with deep red wine, you let yourself study the room and its occupants. It was filled with nobles, all dressed in extravagant clothing that was similar to your own. At least you didn’t come overdressed, you thought to yourself. Another pass of the room had a glint of blue sparking your curiosity. Your gaze shifted over to a male dressed in a simple black button down and trousers, that blue flash coming from the jewels atop his hands. His wings protruded from his back, tucked in tightly as if hiding from sight. Your eyes widened a bit at the muscles flexing beneath the fabric, the slight scowl on his face, and the allure in his hazel eyes as they gazed back at you. Quickly you looked at your drink, swirling its contents as you tried to ignore the heat in your cheeks.

You didn’t usually get caught staring, but by the gods was it hard not to stare at him. Risking another glance, you brought your glass up to your lips to hide your wandering eyes. His attention was focused elsewhere, now intently set on the male in front of him and the blonde on his right. You swallowed harshly, watching as a small smile perked up at his lips. Shadows lapped around his feet and shoulders like a running river, constantly moving, never ceasing to slow, but rather always fluttering. He was ethereal, and that was a thought that had never crossed your mind when it came to a fae.

“You must be Kallias’ sister.” A voice soothed in your ear, causing a slight jolt to wrack your bones. The female laughed, a sound that rang like a windchime. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’m Feyre.” As your heart lulled to a soft beat once again, you nodded out of respect, admiring her kind eyes and the twinkling onyx jewels atop her head.

“It’s a pleasure.” She smirked, motioning towards the male you had been eyeing with a dainty hand. 

“I assume you haven’t met Azriel yet, considering your staring.” Your cheeks flushed again and she giggled, obviously sensing the shift.

“I wasn’t staring,” you grumbled, taking another sip of your wine.

“He doesn’t bite.” She laughed, taking your hand and dragging you towards the three fae that you had been spying on from afar. “Hey!” Feyre called in greeting, gaining the attention of them, much to your chagrin. “This is Y/N, Kallias’ sister. Y/N, this is Mor, Cassian, and Azriel.” You smiled softly with wide eyes, cursing your unfiltered thoughts for this moment. If you had kept to a corner, eyes glued to your glass, then this wouldn’t have happened. Yet, here you were.

“Hey, it’s nice to meet you. Gorgeous dress, by the way.” The blonde smiled warmly, her eyes glittering and glazed from a couple glasses of alcohol.

“Thank you.” You muttered, fidgeting with a stone on your gown. You chanced a glance at Azriel again, only to find him already looking at you. A common occurrence tonight, you supposed.

“Well, I’m going to grab another drink.” Feyre declared with a wink as she pulled Cassian and Mor along with her. The two of them were smirking as well and you knew that she had put her Daemati skills to use. You cleared your throat, intending to refill your glass as well, just to get out of the conversation that was bound to take place. But as you went to take your leave, Azriel’s hand clasped around your wrist softly, keeping you in place.

“Why have we never heard of you before?” He asked, his words practically matching Rhysand’s from earlier. Usually you would grace that question with a forced smile and a short response, however, breathing in his euphoric scent had you feeling rather vulnerable.

“Um, Kallias and my father thought it best to keep my existence within the shadows.” You replied, nerves caressing your skin, inducing a shiver to crawl down your spine.

“Because of your magic.” He stated. You blinked at him in shock.

“How did you know that?” A miniscule smirk pulled his plush lips up, and for some unknown reason you wanted to kiss it off of them.

“I can sense it. It’s strong.”

“My magic is glamoured. How can you–” He shook his head in answer before gesturing towards your glass.

“Let me refill that for you.” There was no time to respond as he took it from your grasp and disappeared amongst the crowd. You glanced after him, but instead you met Kallias’ eyes and Viviane’s cheeky thumbs up. With a scowl you stalked off to the balcony, hoping for some privacy to redo your glamour. Much to your surprise, you found that your glamour was fully intact, leaving you in awe.

“How?” You muttered to yourself. Nobody else had sensed it, nobody but him. An electric touch hummed underneath your skin. You pressed a palm against your heart, feeling it skip, that pulse buzzing against your bones before you turned to face him. He was swathed in shadows with a hand extended out, a full glass of wine as an offering. You took it with an uneasy smile as that electrifying static increased at the brush of your fingers.

“Starfall will start soon.” You nodded at his words, glancing warily up at the sky as he came to stand beside you, your shoulders nearly touching.

“What’s so special about Starfall, anyway?” His lips tilted up in that ever soft smile that he seemed to own.

“Just watch.” As his words left his tongue, a streak of light entered the sky, covering you with a dull glow. Another and another passed by until the sky was full and your eyes were wide in wonder. You had never expected Starfall to be spectacular; it always seemed like just another pointless reason for fae to get together and drink themselves drunk, but standing there, you knew that was far from the truth.

“Shit,” you breathed out, eyes never leaving the sky, even though you felt his piercing gaze on your skin. You reached a hand into the darkness of the night, stretching over the railing as if you could touch one passing by. Azriel chuckled beside you, causing you to quickly pull your hand back in embarrassment. When you turned to look at him, a chord struck in your chest and that tingle of electricity that had been sizzling in the distance sparked. You felt a tug, body jolting a step toward him as he did the same.

“I–”

“You’re my mate.” He took another step, your noses almost touching, breathing in each other’s air as you just stared, taking in his eyes as if they were the stars that fell from the sky.

“Shit.” You repeated, placing a hand just below your throat as if the touch could bring more air into your lungs. Azriel reached out, a glimmer in his eyes as he placed his hand over yours and you knew that this was the touch of an exploding star, that he was the one you were reaching into the sky for. The bond plucked like a harpsichord string as soon as the two of you touched. It felt like home–it was home. He was home.

“Funnily enough,” you started, a brittle laugh leaving your throat, “I was actually dreading coming here tonight.”

“And now?” He queried, his head tilting like a curious animal, fingers moving and intwining with yours.

“Now, I can’t quite see why I was dreading it so much.” A smile lit up his features, bigger than you had seen all night, and your lips twitched to reciprocate the motion unknowingly until the two of you were grinning at each other like long lost friends.

“I’ve been holding out hope for a while now.” He murmured as he leaned closer, noses gently brushing, lips almost touching.

“Hope for what?”

“Hope that you existed.” You could feel his heartbeat in the crisp air, feel his wings stretching as he began to close the gap between you, to interlock your two souls as one.

“Y/N, we have to go now.” A voice broke the two of you out of your trance. Azriel’s hand fell back to his side as you were pulled away, his eyes unwavering from yours until you disappeared behind the door. You had your sights set on nothing but his lingering figure as the rooms flew past you in a blur. Once the cold air of winter hit you in the face, you snapped out of your stupor and wrenched your arm free from your captor.

“What the hell!” You exclaimed, the bite of the wind fueling your immediate anger. Viviane’s eyes bored into yours, silver lining her tear ducts as she moved to grab you again.

“We have to go,” she pleaded, “we just caught word that several Naga are loose on the grounds and they’re wreaking havoc. We have to go.”

As swiftly as your anger came, it dulled, your eyes turned to steel, and your jaw set. You nodded once, ripping the crown off of your head as you followed Viviane to Kallias’ form. A dull pain sat in your chest as you placed a hand on your brother’s arm. You still felt his eyes on you as the three of you erupted into shadows and smoke, leaving the Night Court and your mate behind. 

[jewellery-box]

Woman's dress

1825–30, American

Silk brocaded satin, net trim, and glazed linen lining

Dark brown satin bodice with all over sprays of roses, candy tuft and other small flowers brocaded with polychrome silks, short waisted, with wide flaring neck, hooked down center back, long straight undersleeves with short full puffed oversleeves, boned and lined with white linen; narrow ruching of stiffened sheer cotton at edge of sleeves. Tag saying, Mrs. Inches.

MFA Boston

[gogmstuff]

ca. 1908 Evening dress (Augusta Auctions). From lamodedelabelleepoque.tumblr.com/post/88701644259/fripperiesandfobs-dress-ca-1908-from-whitaker 707X1200.

[acourtofswiftiesandshadowdaddies]

Listen- I had an idea. I was thinking about a Lucien Vanserra and the reader feeking the bond snap? But Lucien feeling like he's not worthy of her but she tells him how pretty his eyes are? Even with the scar? I was thinking of adding the prompt 32 angst and 12 fluff maybe.

Scars and All

Lucien x Archeron!reader, Helion x reader (father, daughter dynamic)

Warnings: angst, swearing, fluff

Prompts: Fluff- “I wish you could see the way I see you,” Angst- “You… why did it have to be you?”

Summary: The youngest Archeron sister has always been ignored and rejected by everyone. When she finally finds her mate in the Day Court who thought her heart could’ve broken more at the rejection of someone who was made to love her?

a/n i legit could not find any good headers for this so i downloaded 6 billion of them from pinterest, my sister had made this dress for herself and i had direct access to it thats why the description is so long 😭 im trying a new thing with describing facial features and stuff like that more lmk if u like it or not. ✨ not edited ✨

There was a ball in Day Court, almost all high fae were invited, and as the sister in law to the High Lord of Night Court it was compulsory for all of us to be there.

The dress I'm wearing is a masterpiece of intricacy and elegance, designed to captivate and command attention. Crafted from the finest materials, it combines delicate silk and ethereal lace, creating a harmonious blend of softness and sensuality. The color chosen is a rich midnight blue, reminiscent of the starry night sky that blankets the Night Court.

The bodice of the dress is a work of art, adorned with intricate silver and sapphire beadwork that accentuates the curves of the wearer. It plunges low, revealing a hint of the wearer's décolletage, while thin, delicate straps grace the shoulders, adding a touch of allure. The back of the dress dips in a graceful V, teasing a glimpse of smooth, exposed skin.

From the waist, the dress cascades into a flowing skirt, made of layers of diaphanous silk that sways with every step. The fabric is sheer and airy, allowing a tantalizing view of the wearer's legs as she moves, creating an alluring dance between modesty and seduction. The hemline is asymmetrical, with delicate lace trim that adds a touch of whimsy and femininity.

As I move, the dress catches the light, shimmering and sparkling like a constellation in the moonlit sky. It exudes an air of confidence and sophistication, empowering the woman who wears it to embrace her inner strength and beauty.

The dress wasn't my first choice though. My first choice was an indigo dress with a sweetheart neckline, that showed just enough of my cleavage to not be named as slutty. It had a slit that showed my whole right leg, but Elain had liked that dress after she saw it in my wardrobe, so I gave it to her.

She always got what she wanted.

I wasn't a type of feminine beauty like my sisters. They all had graceful features and beautiful dainty blonde hair. Nesta and I were the most similar with our sharp features.

But that's where the similarities ended.

My hair was a lustrous cascade of ebony strands, shimmered like a moonless night sky, reflecting an ethereal sheen with every subtle movement. Its glossy surface captured the light, revealing depths of darkness that held an irresistible allure.

Once I had slipped my heels on, I headed down the stairs where everyone else was waiting for me. My lips curved into a sly smile when everyone's attention was on me, glancing over the room, my eyes stopped at Elain. Her dress (my dress) was falling at all the wrong places.

She wasn't as curvy as me, Nesta and Feyre. I don't get why she would want the dress, it's obviously not fitting her properly. Ignoring Elain's incessant huffing, I head to Nesta and Cassian.

“You look absolutely breathtaking tonight, sister,” I compliment, giggling.

“I love this dress on you,” she gushes.

Nesta was my best friend, my confidant, the sister who cared for me.

“But I would’ve loved to have seen the other dress on you,” she continues. “You shouldn’t have given it to Elain,”.

“Oh it’s fine, look at the absolute beauty I have found instead,” I reassure.

“Elain are you sure you don’t want to change your dress,” Feyre asks.

Nesta and I snicker behind our hands, Elain turns around towards us and I watch in glee as her faces turns into a scowl.

“I’m fine can we leave already” she snaps.

Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.

Cassian winnows Nesta, Rhysand and Feyre, Azriel and Elain, while Mor winnows me.

Landing outside the day court palace, I mentally take in the beauty of the place. The sandy blocks making the palace and the beautiful candles hung at every corner. There truly is no darkness.

I look down at my dress, skepticism glazes over my face. I shouldn’t have worn such an eye catching dress.

How was I meant to know that there would be lights everywhere?

Cauldron fucking boil me.

After some mindless chatter with Feyre about how excited she is to show me her paintings. We’re escorted inside to see the High Lord of the Day Court lounging on his throne, looking like the childish playboy he is. Even though he was centuries old.

His beauty was otherworldly, the way his onyx locks cascaded down his back like they were paid to do so. Piercing amber orbs stared down at everyone. Clad in only a white fabric that was draped over him, he had an easy going presence to him. The sharp points of his golden crown glinting under the bright lights.

But the vision next to him put the Night Court stars to a shame. He was the sun personified. Tan skin, lighter than his father’s but darker than mine. Auburn red hair, similar to his father’s in length, rested along his back. A scar ran from just above his eyebrow to his jaw. His eyes met mine, maroon and golden. His features picked apart weren’t attractive but somehow together on him, he looked like a god.

My breath caught in my throat as my eyes blurred in and out of focus. Once they went back to normal I saw a single golden thread tugging. My eyes followed the thread back to Lucien.

I ran outside. Mother’s tits, I found my mate.

I gave an experimental tug on the bond revelling in the feeling of being complete. Tugging on it again, I let him know I wanted to see him.

Sitting there on the roof, I waited for five minutes, then ten, soon twenty and as quickly as my hope had been born it had faded away. But still remnants of it remained, maybe he couldn’t get away so soon, after all he was the heir to the Day Court.

Holy shit, he was the heir to the Day Court, what if he wanted nothing to do with me?

My thoughts spiralled one after the other.

A throat cleared behind me. Turning around to look at Lucien, I beckon him over.

“I’m Y/N, I already know who you are so introductions won’t be necessary” My attempt at a joke fails.

Finally taking a closer look at his face, I take in the pained expression. “Are you all right?” concern laces my voice, I stand up and whisper, “Have you had enough to eat you look like you’re about to pass out,”.

I’m about to leave and grab him some food, when he speaks, “You… why did it have to be you?”.

I freeze in place, I don’t dare to turn around. My mind flashes with memories of Feyre not wanting to teach me archery because she was busy, or how the boys at Rita’s never even looked at me, or how Elain took it upon herself to make me hate everything about me, or how everyone had their other half and I had just found mine. But not even a full hour of knowing me he hated me.

And somehow after all those years of rejection, self hatred and jealousy my heart broke one last time.

I assume he could feel it through the bond, as I wasn’t all that used to blocking people out of my mind yet.

I run down the stairs to get off the roof, to get as far away from him as possible.

Finally, finding an unoccupied balcony on the opposite side of the palace, I settled there, sobbing my broken heart out. The kohl from my eyes streaming down my face. My fingers red from rubbing my stinging eyes.

I looked around at the material of the dress pillowing around me. Such a waste of such a breathtaking dress.

Soft crying filled the room, my ears were ringing as I hadn’t heard the High Lord of Day Court enter.

“My dear, may I ask what’s wrong?” He asked, worry evident in his voice.

Gasping I stood up and did a sorry excuse of a curtesy, “High Lord” I bowed my head.

“Helion is fine,”

He sat down right next to the place where I was sitting. His muscled arm gently tapped the spot beside him as an invitation.

I sit down, smoothing my skirts out.

As if he can sense the awkwardness he clears his throat and says “We can stay quiet or we can talk about my son or your mate?”.

My eyes widen in shock. “How do you know me?” I mutter out.

“Sunshine I’m the High Lord of Day Court and unbeknownst to you, Rhysand talks a lot about you during meetings so most of the high lords consider you a little sister, but for me you’re like the daughter I never had,” he confesses.

A man I had not met before today, considered me his daughter, and six other high lords think of me as a little sister. My eyes well up in tears, my father had been one of the only people other than Nesta to ever truely care about me. And I had cried for months when he died.

To have someone think of me as their daughter again brought out a fresh wave of tears.

As if reflex, my head rests against Helion’s shoulder, we gaze into the night sky, in a comfortable silence. A strong hand reaches out and softly taps my head in a soothing rhythm.

“It’s ok sunshine.” he whispers.

After a while my tears stain my cheeks, Helion speaks up “I think you should give your mate another chance, I think you’ve mistaken his intentions,”.

Taking in his advice, I wordlessly stand up and hug the high lord. “Thank you” I breathe out.

Pulling away, I walk through corridors in search of Lucien.

A hand grabs mine and pulls me into a dark corner, while another hand muffles my screams.

I’m about to put the training Cassian gave me into use when I see a familiar pair of mismatched eyes.

“You can’t scream, I just wanted to talk to you,” he pleaded. Once his hand reluctantly leaves my mouth, I nod as a signal for him to keep going.

“When I said what I said before, I didn’t mean it as if you weren’t good enough for me,” he started. “I meant it as I didn’t think I was good enough for you.” My eyes soften at his words. “I mean yes I am devastatingly handsome,” I roll my eyes at his smug words, unable to hide my own smile when his lips twitch upwards.

“But I don’t think I could ever be good enough for you, a thousand lifetimes over,” he whispers, impossibly close to me but at the same time painfully far away.

“I wish you could see yourself the way I see you, Lucien,” I mumble cupping his cheek. “Please have me,” he murmurs.

I grab his face gently and fuse our lips together.

“I’m yours, if you’re mine,”

a/n i’m sorry girl dad!helion is just too good to resist and like imagine being like a little sister to all the high lords (instead of heron it’d be eris), hope you like it anon 🫶🏻

[duskandcobalt]

Stargirl: Part Four

Following her last vision, Elain and Azriel navigate the surprise revelation and the frenzy that comes along with it.

...

Well, well, well... my smutty little darling that was only ever supposed to be one part comes to an end. This last part was intended to be just a little dirty short thing but somehow it turned into a 6k word monster soooo???? idk i had fun writing this, I hope you have fun reading it and I'm so thrilled I could get this out just in time for the last day of @sjmromanceweek 💕💗💞

this can be read as a stand alone but if you'd like to see how elain's sexy little visions came to be, you can find the first part of stargirl here as well as all the other parts in my masterlist xx

18+ please, gratuitous smut and a little bit of breeding kink as a valentine's day treat 💌👀♥️

ENJOY XX

Read on AO3

Elain runs a trembling hand down the front of her dress as she takes a deep breath. 

She’s wearing a beautiful ivory gown made of delicate lace that’s almost sheer. Only heavy clusters of floral embroidery cover her from the top of the bodice down to the middle of her thighs where it tapers off before picking up again to form a stunning train that trails dramatically  behind her.  The dress has long sleeves, also covered in embroidery, but her shoulders and decolletage are left bare - an intentional design choice that she and her seamstress had made with a certain someone in mind. 

A veil is ever so carefully placed into the crown of Elain’s intricately woven hair by the practiced hands of the twins when a soft knock sounds from the bedroom door, interrupting the mindless chatter she’d been exchanging with Nuala and Cerridwen.

She catches sight of the male in the reflection of her mirror. His tall, lean frame occupies almost the entire doorway. He’s dressed in an immaculately tailored suit and a small dusk coloured rose is pinned to the lapel of his jacket. His violet eyes soften as they meet hers and the very corners of his lips turn up into a fond smile.

“He’s not going to know what to do with himself when he sees you.” Rhysand says quietly. “You make for a beautiful bride, Elain.” 

Elain ducks her head in thanks. The warmth of a blush creeps up her neck and blooms across her cheeks as the nerves that she’s been trying to keep at bay all morning finally settle low in her stomach at her brother-in-law’s sincere compliment and at the reminder of the male waiting for her in the garden.

She couldn’t believe that this was actually happening. Couldn’t believe that she was about to walk down the aisle to her mate. 

…

It had been two years since she’d had that vision that had hinted at a truth she hadn’t been prepared to receive. A vision that had shown her this day - a mating ceremony to a dark haired Shadowsinger instead of the son of Autumn as the Cauldron had once suggested. 

That single vision had come out of nowhere and thrown her entire life into a spiral. 

She’d never forget sitting up in his bed, turning towards him and whispering those words that had turned their entire world upside down. 

You’re my mate.

Azriel had only stared at her, still as a statue, as she fumbled over her words in a desperate attempt to explain to him exactly what she’d seen. 

The offering of cake. A black ribbon binding her wrist to his. 

He’d broken down moments later after finally finding his voice and asking her a few carefully curated questions to understand exactly what she’d seen. He’d clutched her tight to his chest as tears trickled from his eyes and into her hair. She’d never seen him like that before but she understood immediately that the overwhelming feeling that coursed through him was relief. 

Relief from the knowledge that he hadn’t been forgotten by the Mother or the Cauldron. From knowing that he hadn’t been deemed unworthy of a mate because of all the blood he’d drawn over the centuries.

They’d gone to Feyre first, clumsily explaining what Elain had seen only to realise they would also need to confess to already having been spending time together. They told Rhys next and though it was perhaps naive of them, neither she nor Azriel had expected that the High Lord  would react so poorly to the news.

For all the times that Elain had wished she could be with Azriel without needing to hide from the others, opening themselves up to the wrath of Rhysand for daring to mess with intercourt politics had resulted in a world of pain. He’d torn into Azriel for even thinking of pursuing a mated female, let alone a female mated to an Autumn Court male. For daring to bed her while her mate slept in the same house. 

At the time, it had seemed that no matter how many times Elain tried to make it clear that the bond in question wasn’t even a real bond - that she had pursued Azriel just as much as he’d pursued her, that they’d never risked sleeping together when Lucien was in residence -  her pleas fell on deaf ears. Rhys had stormed out of his office without sparing her a glance, only giving a stern warning to Azriel to stay the hell away from her.

They hadn’t stayed away from each other, of course. They’d simply resumed what they’d already been doing - sneaking in and out of each other’s rooms in the dead of night and only barely avoiding each other during the days. 

There had been countless tears and numerous arguments. An entire war had almost been waged over their claim that the Cauldron had been wrong. Iit had taken almost an entire year of working with various High Lords, priestesses, and other contacts and associates of Rhysand to confirm that something had indeed gone wrong when Elain was submerged in the Cauldron - that a spell had been cast in an attempt to hide her bond to Azriel and guide her in another direction. 

It had been confusing and messy and terrible for everyone involved but they had somehow come out on the other end, still together and still hopelessly in love. Now, there was a brand new element to their relationship. A bright, glowing tether that connected their bodies, their souls - already so tangible despite the fact that neither of them had formally accepted the bond. 

Azriel, usually so reserved and attention avoidant, had surprised her when he insisted on even having a ceremony. She’d had to talk him out of going down the same path as Nesta and Cassian and after going back and forth too many times to count, Elain had eventually relented and they’d compromised on having the small garden ceremony that had come to her in that vision. 

The title of mates had never meant much to her. She’d have chosen him a million times over where there’d been a predetermined connection between them or not. But she knew how much it meant to Azriel, knew that he considered the bond to be a blessing unlike any other. 

It was why she attempted to look past the, quite frankly, insane behavior he’d been exhibiting over the past few months. Azriel had turned into something reminiscent of the girls that Elain had grown up with. The ones that became obsessive over their nuptials the second a ring was placed on their finger. 

Just because she’d given in to his desire to have a ceremony, it didn’t mean that she hadn’t enjoyed torturing him from time to time when he was difficult about place settings or flowers. 

“Never should’ve told you about that stupid vision,” Elain would taunt him, if only to feel the delicious trickle of arousal slither down her spine at the way his shoulders would stiffen and the promise of punishment would spark in his eyes. 

Not that he’d ever actually deliver on that promise. 

It was the one true point of contention between them. The stubborn male was intent on not formally accepting the bond before the ceremony and would hardly touch her, let alone fuck her, for fear of accidentally solidifying the bond between them before they could have it blessed by a priestess. And though she tried, there was no amount of teasing and taunting she could do that would get him to break. 

He even went as far as to refuse food made by her whether she handed it directly to him or not. 

It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.

Azriel had made up for some of it though, meeting her halfway by insisting on incorporating certain aspects of a human wedding - starting with a proposal that had come as a complete surprise a few weeks before they’d broken the curse.

They’d been in the garden one evening, Azriel more quiet than usual as he studied her from over the brim of a chipped tea cup that appeared like a dollhouse toy in the grasp of his large hands. She’d only looked up from her notebook when he gently lifted her feet from his lap and shifted until he was on his knees in the grass beside her. 

He had said her name so softly, his eyes gleaming with an unfamiliar quality that they’d later identified as nervousness when they laughed together in bed later, recounting the moment while Elain lifted her hand above their faces until the low fae lights caught the surface of the sparkling sapphire that newly graced her ring finger. 

…

That sapphire gleams brighter than ever on her finger as Rhysand steps towards her and offers her his arm.

“Ready?”

He’d come to them after they’d announced their intention to have a ceremony and asked if he could walk Elain down the aisle - a sign of peace and a way of offering them his blessing. Something that she knew meant the world to Azriel after the tense year he and Rhys had had. 

“Ready.” Elain swallows, slipping her arm through the crook of his elbow.

Apart from Rhys walking her down the aisle, most of what she’d seen in that vision remains the same. A harp plays as Rhys leads her out to the garden. Bright blooms of flowers are arranged on either side of a makeshift aisle. The sun shines and the Sidra glitters behind them. Nesta and Feyre smile brightly, tears gathering in the corner of their eyes. Cassian gives her a bright smile before clasping the broad shoulder of the handsome male standing next to him.

Elain’s breath catches in her chest when Azriel turns and his eyes land on her. She tries to keep from crying but there’s little she can do to stop the tears from falling when Azriel gives her a smile unlike anything she’d ever seen before, his own eyes shining with tears and admiration for his bride.

The sight of Azriel in his leathers was something Elain often dreamed of when she lay in bed at night, but it only takes one slow pass of her eyes over his body before she realises that the only thing better than Azriel in his leathers, is Azriel in a suit. 

The suit is perfectly cut to his body and is befitting of a royal prince - the sash draped across his body, the medallions pinned to his chest - she realises that in a way, he really is dressed the part of a high ranking member of the Night Court and something about seeing him proudly dressed like this for her, makes her heart swell.

It feels like an eternity before she stands in front of him, before Rhys kisses her cheek and gives Azriel a hug. Before Azriel’s wonderfully familiar hands clasp around hers. 

“Beautiful.” He gives her fingers a gentle squeeze as his eyes roam over her dress - the delicate lace that frames her exposed neck and shoulders. The embroidery that conceals the part of her that only he would ever see. He doesn’t bother to conceal his satisfied hum of approval as his gaze tracks back up the length of her body to her face.

The priestess takes over then, welcoming all their guests and guiding them through a short ceremony that culminates in an exchange of vows that leaves both of them with happy smiles and tear streaked faces.

They exchange rings after their vows - an homage to Elain’s  human heritage but also something she’d quietly insisted on because the possessive part of her wanted him to have a physical marker that made it clear that he was taken to any female or male that dared to set their eyes on him.

Before she knows it, Nyx is teetering over to them, a small plate that holds one cinnamon bun haphazardly cradled in his small, chubby hands.

It’s the final point of difference from her vision - a small change she’d intentionally made to incorporate Azriel’s favourite of her homemade treats into their day. A nod to the day this had all started that only the two of them would understand.

She bends down and kisses Nyx on the forehead, gingerly taking the bun in her fingers before standing and bringing it to Azriel’s lips. 

“Eat.” Elain murmurs.

Azriel’s lips close around the soft bun, teeth sinking into the sweet pastry. He swallows and Elain swears she feels the bond between them intensify. Unlike the uncomfortable pull she’d felt once upon a time, this is different. This time it’s desire and admiration and pure love that she feels when it tightens around her ribs.

By the way Azriel is looking at her, she knows he feels the same. 

The ribbon is the next and final part of the ceremony. Feyre and Nesta both step forward to wrap a length of black satin around the couple’s wrists - sheepish looks on both of her sister’s faces. Rhysand and Cassian take over from their mates- tightening the ribbon and tying it into a firm bow. 

“Remember, Az,” Cassian's eyes shine with mischief. “This stays on until you make her come hard enough to cause an avalanche on Ramiel.” 

“Cassian!” Nesta groans, pinching the bridge of her nose, at the same exact time Feyre clasps her hands tight over Nyx’s ears even as she and Rhysand fail  to stifle their laugh.

…

They don’t last long after the ceremony. It’s only a couple of turns around the small dancefloor and a few congratulatory conversations before the pull between them becomes too much to bear and Azriel bends down, his lips brushing over the delicate point of her ear as he quietly asks if she’s ready to leave.

He laughs at the eagerness with which Elain responds but she can’t bring herself to be embarrassed - not when she’d felt the absence of his touch so thoroughly for over a month now. 

She needed to be alone with him. Needed to get away before the desire got the best of them and put them at risk of doing something obscenely stupid like consummating their bond in the middle of this garden, in front of everyone they held close to their hearts.

After a very quick goodbye to their amused guests, Azriel whisks Elain into his arms and flies directly to the townhouse that Rhys had gifted them as a mating present, grumbling that they may as well have it seeing as they’d already spent the last year or two desecrating every part of it. 

No words are exchanged as Azriel lands, still cradling Elain in his arms as he wanders up the path and opens the door, carrying her over the threshold once more. 

It was funny really, when she looks back at how far they’d come since that very first time Azriel had flown her here, to this place they could now call home.

She’d been a shell of herself back then, clutching to her human life with a desperation that had almost broken her completely. Despite it all, she’d felt a split second moment of reprieve from the intensity of her grief when Azriel, little more than a stranger to her at the time, carried her over the threshold and set her down with such care before he led her out to the one place he somehow knew she might find some sense of normalcy.

 She’d felt it then - upon seeing the kindness in his eyes and feeling the gentleness of his touch - the tiniest inkling of hope that maybe one day she could find happiness in this new place, in this new life.

Sure enough, that little drop of hope had been warranted because just a few years later, Elain is the happiest she’s ever been. 

The signs had all been there from the start. 

That single strand of hair that had snagged right over his heart should’ve told her all she needed to know. 

He carries her upstairs, toeing open the door to the bedroom that once belonged solely to her and Elain’s jaw drops as Azriel finally sets her down and she peels her eyes away from his perfect face to take in the room. 

She knew that Feyre and Mor had come by earlier to decorate but she didn’t expect all of this. Her usual lilac linens have been replaced by billowing white sheets. There’s blush coloured rose petals strewn across the bed that match the roses that had framed the aisle and candles were scattered around the room, casting the bed in romantic, flickering golden light. 

Azriel’s free arm winds around her waist from behind and his lips follow the path of her shoulder up her neck as he pulls her back towards him. Elain tilts her head up to meet him halfway and his mouth travels along her jaw until his lips hover centimeters from hers. 

She feels like every bit of her skin is on fire. She could never imagine that the level of her desire for Azriel would surpass what she felt for him in the past but she was sorely mistaken because what she feels in this moment makes her think that if he didn’t do something to quell the ache thrumming between her legs, she might just die. 

“Azriel.” She breathes his name, turning towards him fully and breaking the silence that had settled comfortably between them.

“Elain.” He answers. His fingers press into the plush flesh of her hip, the very tips of them venturing low - teasing at the curve of her backside.

“My mate.” Elain says quietly, raising her hand to cup his face. Her thumb drags along his sharp cheekbone.

“My mate.” He repeats. The word is almost unfamiliar on his lips, like he still can’t quite believe the term is his to use. Azriel brings his lips to hers and her entire body is overcome with a desperate need. “My wife.”

Elain can’t help but whimper as her body curves into his by its own volition. She melts into his searing kiss. 

“My husband.”

Azriel lets out a soft moan at that and a slight shift of his stance allows her to feel him hard against her hip.

Elain is suddenly nervous as she pulls away to look up at Azriel. She doesn’t understand why she’s suddenly shy, standing in front of him like an innocent, blushing bride even though they both knew that ship had sailed long ago. He stares back at her, candle light catching the flecks of green in his eyes. 

She recognises the wonder there as he takes in the sight of her. It’s a perfect mirror to her own emotions. To the disbelief that they’d actually made it to this moment against all odds. 

“Not sure how we’re supposed to consummate anything with our wrists bound together.” Elain frowns, her voice shaking slightly. “I won’t be able to get you out of this suit.”

“I think it’s more of a symbolic thing.” Azriel smiles, kissing her once more to ease her nerves. His fingers slip from her waist to their wrists, deftly plucking at the knot of black satin until it comes loose and their hands are freed. He sets the ribbon down and fixes her with a look that sends a shiver down her spine. 

He motions for her to turn and then his hands are in her hair, gently removing pins until her hair falls in a gentle, albeit slightly messy, golden wave down her back. He gathers it to the side and more kisses are placed to the sensitive place where her neck meets her shoulder. 

Azriel’s fingers find the buttons that run down the back of her dress and he begins to undo them slowly. Elain knows that he’s doing it on purpose. That even on this special day, he wouldn’t dream of missing the opportunity to have her beg. 

But Elain, for once, won’t let him win. She somehow finds the will power to hold still as he undoes her dress and drags it down her arms and over her torso until it falls to the floor and she’s left standing in front of him in nothing except for the very expensive scrap of ivory lace that covers her sex and the shiny rings on her finger.

She reaches for his suit jacket and helps him maneuver out of it and then she steps around to his back to undo the buttons of his shirt around his wings. And maybe, just maybe, during the process of ridding him of his shirt, she lets her knuckles smooth over a part of the delicate membrane that has him gritting out her name in warning. 

Elain grins, moving back around to his front to reach for the buttons of his fine pants - slowly undoing them as he kicks off his shoes just in time for her to slide his trousers and undershorts down his legs.

She can’t help the way her eyes linger on the proud length of him. On the small bead of moisture gathered at the tip that gleams in the glow of the candles, practically calling for her to put her lips on him. She’s so distracted that she barely even registers Azriel reaching back for the ribbon he’d placed on the desk a few minutes ago. 

“I can think of better uses for this ribbon.” Azriel’s eyes flick up to meet hers as he smooths out the ribbon and dangles it from his fingertips. 

“I can think of something even better.” Elain plucks the ribbon from his hands and backs him towards the bed with a single finger against his chest until he’s laying down. His eyes shimmer with amusement as she motions for him to put his hands above his head but he silently follows her instructions.

She kneels next to him, leans down and tries so very hard to ignore the sweet press of his lips to her sternum as her fingers make quick work of wrapping the ribbon around both of his wrists before securing the remaining length to the wooden posts of her headboard. 

“You have the rest of our lives to touch me whenever and however you’d like. Let’s see how long you can last before you’re begging to touch your wife.”

She moves to settle herself on his lap but he stops her with a slight shift of his knees that sends her sliding further up his torso. 

“On my tongue first.”

Elain bites down on her lower lip, her core already tightening in anticipation as she shifts further up and carefully places a knee above each of his shoulders, mindful of his wings.

“Look at you.” Azriel’s eyes are fixed on the damp lace covering her center. On the gleam of arousal that covers her inner thighs. “Such a mess already and I haven’t even begun.”

“So much talking.” Elain grumbles, her face flooding with heat at just how wet she was for him when all he’d done was take her dress off.

“Make me stop.” Azriel challenges. She huffs but slowly lowers her hips until the defined tip of his nose brushes over her, dragging her soaked underwear over her clit in a delicious slide of friction.

It’s far from the first time he’s had her like this but it is the first time he hasn’t been able to use his hands. It’s in this moment that Elain realises just how much she relies on him to guide her down to his face. To pull her hips closer and closer, to help her rock against him as she rides him. With his hands restrained, it all falls  back on her to gain the confidence to use him like this. 

“Sit.” The single word is laced with pure demand and she can sense that Azriel’s patience is slipping. His need to get his mouth on her overruling any of the previous gentleness he’d shown her this evening. 

She does as she’s told and her hands fly out to grasp for purchase on her headboard at the first pass of Azriel’s mouth over the lace that covers her. He doesn’t give her a moment to catch her breath before he uses his teeth to tug the lace to the side as best as he can and then his tongue is on her, eagerly tasting her, consuming her with long, effortless strokes.

“I’ve missed this.” He groans against her skin. His tongue dips inside her. “ I’ve missed you.”

She doesn’t have the words to admonish him. To tell him that he could’ve had her this whole time if only he hadn’t been so stubborn. But a month without having him like this has taken its toll and Elain finds that she’s utterly incapable of forming any words or  sounds that aren’t a simple keening moan as she rolls her hips and chases the sensation quickly building low and intense in her stomach. Her thighs tremble, her fingers clench around the wooden posts of her bedframe and before she knows it, the wave of pleasure crests and she slumps forward - the already precarious rhythm of her hips falters as she comes hard and fast on his tongue. 

Azriel’s mouth doesn’t stop working her until she pulls off of him completely but even then, she isn’t granted a single moment of reprieve besides a couple seconds to catch her breath.

He calls in his shadows and icy, invisible hands are firm around her waist, guiding her back down to where she’d started. Her hands find his cock as his shadows stay with her, slipping in between her legs and over her breasts in feather light caresses that have her aching for more despite just having come mere seconds ago. 

Elain raises her eyes to look up at Azriel as she lowers her mouth to his cock. At the first slide of her tongue over his head, a particularly daring shadow slips inside her. The feeling of it is one she knows well, so similar to Azriel’s own fingers. 

Elain pulls off of him for a second, glaring up at him. The menacing look she’d been going for is cut short when she gasps as the shadow still inside her presses hard against her upper wall. 

“You said,” Azriel starts, eyes squeezing shut when she takes him in her mouth again. “You said I couldn’t touch you. You never said my shadows couldn’t.”

“Not fair.” Elain mumbles around the length of him, unwilling to stop the movement of her lips and tongue. She only takes him deeper, relishing in the way his hips lift to push himself further down her throat. 

“Did you think I’d forgotten?” More of his shadows are in her hair now, tugging at her roots with delicious pressure. “All those times you’ve taunted me this past month? Did you think I would forget?”

She gives him a subtle shake of her head, hollowing her cheeks around him all the while.

She’d been praying that he wouldn’t forget, that he’d catalogue all those moments until he could finally deliver on that promise of punishment she’d seen gleaming in his eyes each time she’d deliberately taunt him with her words or actions. 

“Touch me.” She doesn’t know how the tables have turned so quickly. How in a split second, she’s pulled off of him and has relinquished all control to him - begging him to touch her instead of the other way around as she’d initially planned. “Azriel, please.”

His shadows aren’t enough and too much time has passed. They’ve put it off too long and the thread between them has grown too taut. She wants his hands. His fingers. She wants him inside her. 

Elain blinks and Azriel’s hands are free. She blinks again and she’s on her back in the exact spot he had just been. His hazel eyes burn into hers as his hands - those glorious, beautiful scarred hands - smooth over every inch of her body that’s within their reach.

“Please.” She begs again, unsure as to what she’s even asking for. All she knows is that there’s greater forces at play and her wants and desires are careening dangerously out of control. 

“Okay.” Azriel nods and suddenly it’s clear as day to her that he’s experiencing the exact same thing on the other side of the bond glowing between them. There’s a new sense of urgency to his words. To his actions. His calloused thumbs drag over her nipples. “Okay, my love.”

He moves a hand inbetween her legs and pushes her thighs further apart and then she feels him, hot and heavy against her sex. He drags his cock over her twice, coating himself in the arousal he’s pulled from her. A moment later he’s inside her and Elains swears it’s the best thing she’s ever felt in her entire life.

“It feels…” She can’t finish her sentence. She’s too overcome by a wave of emotions so intense that it wracks through her body. That thread between them that had seemed so tangible for the past month had suddenly solidified into something else entirely. She could feel it in her blood. In each and every nerve. Could feel him. Each of her emotions - all the joy and the pleasure and the relief - it was all amplified. Doubled. Because she could feel his twin emotions on the other side of this new connection.

It had snapped. The bond had finally snapped into place once and for all. 

Elain laughs, high and bright, and full of disbelief because each time she had thought that what she felt for him couldn’t possibly be topped, she had been proven wrong.

“I know.” Azriel sweeps back the hair clinging to her sweat slick forehead and keeps his eyes on hers.

“It just…” Elain gasps, fingernails clawing at his back in a desperate attempt to get even closer to him. To feel even more of him. 

“I know.” Azriel repeats, lowering his mouth to hers in an all consuming kiss that renders her utterly useless. “I felt it, too.”

Azriel continues to whisper sweet nothings into her skin as he takes her, his hips meeting hers as he delivers long smooth strokes that have her crying his name. 

“Want you to come with me, okay?” He says gently, waiting until her eyes focus on his and she nods that she had in fact heard him before he bends one of her knees to her chest and picks up his pace. 

The new position has tears forming in the corner of her eyes from the sheer bliss that courses through her.  It’s a feeling that’s only heightened when he brings a hand in between their bodies to thumb at her clit.

“I meant every word.” Azriel murmurs, his forehead pressed tight to hers. “You’re my sun, Elain.” 

The smooth movement of his hips stutters and she knows he’s close.

I spent the first part of my life shrouded in darkness with only shadows for company.  I thought I’d learnt what it was to live in the light of day again but I didn’t truly know what it meant to feel the warmth of the sun until you looked at me for the first time.

The beautiful words Azriel had said to her earlier in the garden echo in her head and she can’t stop the sob that escapes her at the reminder of the vows they’d made. At the promises they’d sworn - the declarations to love and to cherish each other for the rest of their long, immortal lives. 

“I love you.” Her hands land on either side of his face and she holds him to her, kissing him deeply as he spills inside her. Her muscles contract around him, an endless pulsing sensation that makes her ears ring and her eyes go blurry.

He says it back to her - three words chanted over and over again in combination with her name as he fills her.

Her blood pounds through her veins and her heart feels like it’s going to explode out of her chest. No amount of reading and research into mating bonds would have prepared her for the magnanimity of what she felt in this  moment.

It isn’t until Azriel pulls out of her and kneels in between her legs that her eyes focus and she regains any sense of who or where she is. He gently pries her legs further apart and his eyes darken at the sight in front of him. She watches as he takes two of his fingers and collects the come smeared on her thighs. It coats his fingers and the sight of a small bit of it  sliding off the knuckle of his middle finger and landing over the gold band on his ring finger is so beautifully filthy that it has her holding back a moan.

“Back where it belongs.” Azriel says the words with a satisfied, purely male smirk and Elain’s breath hitches as he slides his fingers back in her, fucking his spend back inside her. She shivers at the sensation of cold metal grazing her skin. 

“Sometimes when I see you like this - your pretty cunt so wet and swollen, so full of my come that it drips out…” He pauses for a second, eyes fixated on the easy slip of his fingers in and out of her. “I wonder why I still take the tonic every morning.”

Elain summons the energy to prop herself up on her elbows so she can look at him. She’s shocked at his admission, at all that it entails. 

“If you want me to call you daddy, Azriel, all you had to do was ask.”

It’s a weak attempt at humour, a pathetic attempt to buy her some time as she tries to figure out what to say. 

Azriel’s head tips back and he laughs in that way that makes her heart ache with love for him.

“I’m serious, Elain.” He gives her a soft smile, his fingers still moving within her. “If you want that with me, I… I’d be honoured.”

“I need,” she gasps when his fingers curl inside her, pressing against the spot he knows will get her where he wants her to be. “To think.”

“Okay.” He agrees. “Whenever you’re ready. If you’re ever ready.”

“After this…” Elain’s back arches off the bed and her legs threaten to close but Azriel holds her open for him with his other hand.

“After the frenzy.” He completes her thought for her and watches, completely enamored as her head tilts back and her slender fingers frantically clutch at the sweat soaked sheets. 

“With a clear head.” She barely manages to get out the words. “We’ll talk about it.”

She’d need a clear head to discuss that particular subject  because right now, with how unbelievably aroused she was at the idea of his fingers pushing his come back inside her - back where it belongs - she’d do just about anything he asked of her.

Azriel only leans forward, crowding her body with his as he once again sends her falling over the edge. Her moans are swallowed eagerly by his mouth. 

“Always take me so well.” He praises her. “So beautiful each and every time you come for me.”

When she finally settles, utterly spent against the mattress, Azriel moves to pull back but Elain clambers to keep him with her and she finds herself startled by her own automatic reaction to him moving even a fraction of an inch away. She buries her face in his neck, drawing in the scent of him - that cedar scent that is now completely intertwined with notes of jasmine and honey- and the depth of her desire terrifies her.

Elain can’t fathom that there will be a time where she won’t need to feel the weight of him on top of her. Couldn’t imagine that there’d be a second of the foreseeable future in which she wouldn’t need to feel the warmth of his skin under the tips of her fingers. The possessive quality that already lived deep within her bones had grown into a whole new monster because even though she’s  been told over and over again that it’s the males who get territorial once a mating bond has been accepted, the way in which she needs to have Azriel all to herself makes her feel confident that she could rip someone to shreds if they looked at him for even a second too long.

“I never want to leave this bed.” Elain sighs, fingers slipping down the expanse of his back as she arches upward, her breasts pressing against his chest. She’s delighted when the shift of her body allows her to feel him hard against her stomach again because despite her sore muscles and the tiredness seeping into her bones, she’s somehow immediately ready for him. Desperate to have him inside her once more.

“Too bad.” Azriel’s lips skate up the column of her throat until his lips are right over her ear. “Because I intend to fuck you on every single surface in this house.”

He sinks into her again and Elain is convinced once and for all that this frenzy might never end.

[historiaxvanserra]

2 and 5 with feyre x rhys x reader please :)

ask and you shall receive, my love!

it's just fluff with some sexual overtones. might do a part 2 of the smut? its also totally unedited so be kind to me.

synopsis: When Feyre and Rhysand invite you to Starfall you bring an unexpected date. When he doesn't get the warm welcome you had hoped for you find that the High Lord and Lady had something else in mind for you.

The sky is saturated in the colors of dusk, streaks of lavender, amethyst and rose that melt into the darkness of the rapidly approaching night. Silver starlight lines the dark horizon like unshed tears and the night sky glitters in response-- it seems almost sentient as the first stars begin to fall. 

The music from the party drifts down into the lower levels of the house, casting it in a lyrical calm that feels almost hypnotizing as you continue your ascent to the roof. 

In the mirror you catch a glimpse of yourself in the reflection and for a moment you feel as though you are seeing outside yourself. The woman staring back at you looks strange, somehow unlike yourself. Long gone are the simple black dresses you usually wear. In their place, an exquisite sapphire gown that looks like liquid sky; indigo tulle that melts into the sheer overskirt, embroidered with pearls and diamonds that frame the silk bodice. 

“You look lovely,” A voice says, cutting through the silence and you meet steely eyes in the reflection. 

“Thank you, Edric.” you say pleasantly, making a considerable effort to smile at him as his eyes meet yours again. 

It’s not that Edric was unpleasant by any means-- he’s kind enough and rather keen. But the whole thing is rather complicated.

“There you are, love,” Rhysand’s voice is like velvet night as he approaches. 

And therein lies the complication. 

He’s dressed in a midnight black suit, -- you imagine his suit jacket had since been shed as he comes into full view-- and a silk shirt, half unbuttoned baring his muscled chest to the balmy air.

You send him a shy smile as you begin your ascent up the stairs with Edric trailing behind you dutifully. 

Rhysand’s lean figure looms like a taunt at the top of the staircase as his violet gaze falls on you again, before acknowledging the male behind you.

“And I see you brought company,” he says tersely. 

Edric pushes past you lightly to offer his outstretched hand to The High Lord but Rhysand simply turns on his heel and retreats to the rooftop. 

You smile reassuringly at Edric who stands stunned and crestfallen on the landing. You place a comforting hand on his shoulder muttering your apology before following Rhysand out into the open air. 

The rooftop of The House of Wind is adorned and decorated beautifully for the occasion. String lights hung with care and garlands of moonflowers and jasmine shading the air with their delicate fragrance. 

As you approach the group you introduce your date to your friends. 

“Lovely to meet you.” Mor says pleasantly casting a glance over her shoulder to the High Lord and Lady who are loitering by the balcony. 

Edric mutters his greetings in returns and takes a swig of his wine. 

“Yeah, it’s about time this one got some action.” Cassian jests affectionately, pulling you into a sidelong hug and you turn away embarrassed. 

You’re about to apologize to Edric for Cassian’s behavior when something draws you attention. 

The High-Lady smells like lilacs and pears as she approaches you. She doesn’t hesitate as she wraps you in her embrace, pacing a chaste kiss to your temple in greeting. 

Feyre is dressed in a lavender silk gown adorned with crystals; she looks like the embodiment of the sky at dusk as she steps back from you. Framed by the dark horizon and the falling stars. 

“You look beautiful.” You say softly to her and the crease in her forehead smooths and her face softens again. 

All the air is taken from you then when she retreats into her Mates arms, her cool gaze still on you. There is something dark and promising in her stormy eyes as she moves from you to the stranger drinking with Cassian. 

“Who is that?,” She asks, turning to Rhys for a moment in silent conversation.

Your tongue feels foreign in your mouth and for some reason the words are sticky on your tongue. Before you can embarrass yourself further Edric’s voice cuts through the silence. 

“I’m Edric, High Lady,” He says enthusiastically, holding out a trembling hand for her to take. 

Feyre eyes him momentarily and takes his hand firmly offering one tense shake before dropping it again and tearing her gaze from him. 

“Feyre darling, It appears love has a date.” Rhysand muses lightly, pulling Feyre tighter into his embrace. 

“A date.” Feyre repeats firmly and you nod lightly as she regards you again. Her face once soft and youthful hardens and her eyes darken. 

A strange feeling of anxiety and shame washes over you as Rhysand and Feyre resume their silent conversation and you swear you feel the ground tremble beneath you as a wave of power ripples through the air.

Cassian’s voice pulls you back to reality when he shouts “It’s starting.!”

The sky glitters and shimmers a brilliant mosaic of technicolor light as the stars bleed across the sky in droves-- a silver celestial army. 

All the tension in the air dissolves into joy as the silver streaks paint the sky. You notice how the group seems to spilt off into pairs as the romantic and celebratory atmosphere takes hold as the hours draw on and the sky grows darkner. 

Cassian and Nesta are both pressed against the railings, his large hand on the small of her back and her head on his shoulder as they sink into their own world. Mor, Amren and Varian are gathered round the firepit sharing a bottle of wine as the starlight rains down on them. You notice how Amren seems at home in the silvery light of the moon.

The weight of Edric shifts as he approaches and you feel his cautious hand holding yours. You turn to him and find him looking at you already. His face is painted in awe and before you can protest he presses his lips to yours.

The kiss itself is not entirely unwelcome. Though nor is it something you embrace.

It’s aloof, apathetic almost as your lips move over his. 

Perhaps it is cruel to use him like this-- knowing that he is only a means to an end.  A distraction to tear your mind from the true objects of your desire. 

Edric kisses you with a carefully attentiveness and as his tongue moves over yours you find you mind drifting somewhere far away. 

You abandon yourself to the thought of you High-Lady and her Mate-- how her lips would feel against your own, how his hands feel in the cradle of your hips-- and how she would taste.

Edric pulls and smiles lightly, wrapping you loosely in his arms and you find yourself retreating back into your daydream as his hand falls to your hip.

It’s wrong; that much you understand.

How woefully and terribly wrong it is. To have fallen so irrevocably for a mated pair. Your High Lord and Lady-- to make matters more unbearably sordid. 

Shame creeps up on you like hunger and settles in your bones.

Your cheeks are warm and rosy. Shaded the colour of a spring bloom as your eyes find them in the crowd. 

What you find is a storm of violet and gray.

They’re both already looking at you so intently that you think you might break apart in Edric’s arms and like the stars themselves become nought but dust and light. 

Rhysand looks between you and his beautiful mate with a calculated ease and offers you a curt nod and a false smile, which you return easily-- though more genuine than anything he offers you. 

Feyre, however, can’t seem to bring herself to offer you any sort of pleasantry as she visibly grimaces before turning her back on you. 

Disappointment blooms in you followed by anger. What could cause them to be so hot and cold with you tonight? You think perhaps jealousy but the thought itself is comical and you brush it off. 

Perhaps they fear they might be losing you to Edric. You’d never invited any of your previous bedfellows to family gatherings. Maybe that is why Edric received such a frosty welcome. 

You sigh to yourself, leaning into Edric’s touch. Searching for some semblance of comfort.

Though you find none when you turn to see that Rhysand and Feyre have fled to their private rooms and you are left cold and alone.

The rest of the night passes in a misty haze as the drink takes hold of you, offering you what no one else can. Solace in your solitude. 

The morning comes swiftly and you awake as you had slept, cold and alone. The vacancy of your bed is like a ghost that haunts your waking moments-- a tangible reminder of your true loneliness. 

The sounds of your friends beyond your door are loud enough to rouse you to wake as they all gather in the dining room for breakfast. 

You’re still wearing last night’s make-up when you emerge from the darkness of your room and into the pale morning light. You’re dressed in a stolen sweater and simple pants as you pad barefoot into the room where everyone is already gathered around the long table. 

“Morning,” You say groggily, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you take your seat between Feyre and Azriel. 

Azriel offers you a quiet greeting though Feyre appears deep in thought and hardly acknowledges you as you sit down to eat. 

Despite the hangover breakfast is pleasant and everyone falls into easy conversation. Though Feyre hardly seems to engage with you outside of polite conversation despite trying to lighten her dour mood. 

You cast Rhysand a questioning glace to which he speaks gently into your mind. 

She’s okay, love. Only a little sour. Rhysand’s voice is smooth and honeyed as he tries to make light of his mate’s foul mood. Though you note the concern in his eyes as he regards her again. 

Breakfast comes and goes and Feyre excuses herself to the kitchen while everyone else goes about their business. 

Her silence doesn’t sit well with you and there’s this feeling-- a dull agony in your chest when you think of the possible cause of her pain. 

You debate following Azriel to the library and leaving Feyre to Rhys-- he is her mate after all. But the thought of her face, brow furrowed, the deep sulk of her lip and the milky glaze in her eyes has you marching into the kitchen after her. 

You find her gazing out of the window with a dirty dish in hand as she half-heartedly scrubs it.

“Fey, is everything alright?” you ask gently, approaching her and offering a comforting hand on her strong shoulder. 

Feyre turns to you quickly and her eyes once dark often a little before she stands straighter as you approach her. 

“I’m fine,” She says slowly, trying her hardest to smile through gritted teeth. 

You cast her a dubious look. Not entirely convinced. Even when she pushes away from the counter top to meet you at the kitchen island. 

“Fey-- you’re obviously not fine at all.” You say softly, taking her hand in yours. When she doesn’t pull away you take it as a good sign. 

“I am fine.” Feyre laughs bitterly. 

She’s obviously not fine. Rhysand speaks into your mind, mildly amused as you recoil in surprise when you find him slumped lazily against the doorframe with a hand in his pocket. 

“You’re mad.” You turn to Feyre, knitting your brows together in confusion as realization begins to hit you. “Why are you mad?” you plead with her.

Feyre is silent and you turn to Rhys for some gentle coaxing but all he does is smirk and leave you to fend for yourself.

“I’m not mad,” Feyre says emphatically, her eyes a blue storm as they bore into your own. 

She is so beautiful when she’s mad.

“Please, Feyre,” You implore her, taking her hands once again in yours, pressing a chaste kiss to her knuckles as you feel your bottom lip begin to wobble with anxiety, “tell me what I did.”

“I’m not mad,” Her face softens immediately and her eyes clear to a classy cobalt as she brings your hand to her lips now and kisses featherlight. “I just-”

The words die in her throat.

You feel Rhysand’s magnetic presence behind you and he approaches with caution as his mate looks at you again. Her eyes are full of hope and something akin to reverence. 

“You just what, Feyre darling?” Rhys asks coaxingly giving her a soft encouraging smile and a comforting hand on her hip.

“I just think you can choose better people to kiss.” 

Any breath that might have had is long gone as the words leave her mouth and you can’t help but smile at the realization that blooms in your chest. She was jealous.

A ripple of dark power, light shaded night, rises and swells like a wave on the Sidra as Rhysand kisses the side of her face and smiles.

They both were.

You gather your wits and regard the pair as they turn their gaze upon you again waiting for your reply.

“And who is better?” You muse lightly, head still spinning as you let your rapidly beating heart flutter to a plateau. 

“Me.” 

It’s all she says before breaking free from her mate's tender embrace and striding over to you. Her body collides with yours with such passion and fervor that it feels almost fated-- all most cataclysmic. 

And when her lips meet yours in a spell-binding, earth-shattering kiss you all but whine into her mouth. “Oh, fuck. Do that again.” It’s Rhysand who speaks, voice hoarse and low as you feel his hand carding through your hair at the base of your skull as you expose your throat to his High Lady.

[uneeorchidee]

personal style inspired by Lucy Westenra

Bram Stoker’s classic brought many iconic characters that continue to inspire fashion and art to this day, one of them being Lucy Westenra. Set in 1890’s, her look was based on late Victorian fashion. Described as soft and sweet, her style is very feminine and modest at first, but as her character changes into a deadly vampire, so does her style evolve into a more dark romantic look. To translate that into a personal style, it’s a perfect inspiration to bring both contrasting sides into one single creative and ethereal aesthetic.

I would keep the classic and feminine pieces and softness of colours as base, and mix it with modern, more relaxed cuts and details, as well as accessories and jewelry that add a little bit of edge and pop of colour for that gothic and vampiric element. Waist is usually emphasised/cinched while silhouette is rich on top or bottom. It can be achieved by combining pieces such as long ruffled skirts of sleeves, or lace and lightweight sheer fabrics like organza/chiffon, with lined and harsher pieces like corsets and bodices. Layering over with items that resemble lingerie, slip dresses and nigh gowns also incorporates well into this style. Some of the go-to pieces – lace turtlenecks, corsets, ruffled skirts/dresses, drop jewelry, laced boots, puff sleeve blouses, off shoulder dresses and tops, stockings, floral details, choker necklaces

colours – off white, silver, peach, muted shades of orange and pink, red

hairstyle – romantic waves or relaxed bun, any type of feminine head piece/accessory

makeup – minimalistic makeup with blurred/stained red lips

Lucy Westenra outfit inspiration

ethereal, dark romantic, lace pieces, muted colours, ruffles, stained lips, red details, feminine

[rush-the-stars]

undone

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pairing: nicholas wolfwood x afab f!reader

cw: smut. quickie? praise, reader referred to as "girl" and "sweetheart" and "baby". f!receiving oral. hair pulling. this is pretty tame tbh

wc: 2.4k

a/n: the fact that i wrote 2k words in the span of like. 2 hours for this man. unhinged. i am really going through something. shoutout to the anon who asked about wolfwood undoing corsets. i had softer and sweeter ideas with this but. alas. maybe i'll make it a lil series.

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You have roughly twenty minutes before Meryl and Vash are back from the water-station. Maybe more, depending on how much trouble they manage to get into on the way there or back—but that means you'll have to bail them out, too. So, still, twenty minutes.

Your back hits the door to the little room at the inn you'd gotten for the night with a dull thud.

"Nico!" You hardly have time to yelp before his mouth is on yours, stubble scraping against your soft lips. You claw at his shoulders, pawing and pushing at his blazer until it falls to the floor.

There's only two buttons on his shirt you have to pick at before it's open to you, since he wears it so obscenely low and unbuttoned already. When you get your hands on his bare skin, he's making a sound against you, low and desperate.

It's been a week and a half since he's had you like this, in his arms, big hands all over you.

It's been a week and a half since you'd had even a moment to yourselves long enough to do anything—

When his lips move over your jaw, your fingers sink into his dark hair, tugging, "don't leave any marks!"

The sound he makes can only be considered a growl, a rumble of it from his chest in annoyance, almost a groan. Your stomach swoops, tilting your head back anyways to give him room.

"Why are we hidin' it from them, anyways?" He barely gets out against your throat, warm, wet lips trailing lower and lower.

If you weren't half out of your mind with him, you would've been able to give a cohesive answer—something about not wanting it to make it strange to travel with or—maybe because Meryl's been warning you away from Nicholas for awhile now and you don't yet want to hear it from her.

Something like that.

But for now, all you can do is whimper when Nicholas' lips get down to the tops of your breasts before meeting the arch of your corset. He suddenly turns you and your hands fly up to steady yourself against the door.

And behind you, he gets on his knees and you feel a sharp tug at the lace of your corset.

You groan, "we don't have time for this—"

"Damn you, you said that last time—"

And he’s right, last time was quick and hot in the back of the truck, with your skirts hiked up around your waist but otherwise not a piece of fabric fully taken off. Just your poor bloomers ripped at the gusset.

And stubborn man that he is, he continues to pull at the laces expertly. Thick, strong fingers weaving into the delicate satin of the ribbon, as he gives another tug. It loosens.

You glance over your shoulder and the sight is—

Nicholas on his knees, shirt open, dark lashes fanned across his cheeks as he focuses on your corset. Another quick tug and the bodice loosens again, then he brings his other hand up—so big, so rough, and pulls at the corset deftly.

“Careful—“ you barely manage to breathe, watching, enamored with the way his fingers delve in to the delicate satin again. “You have to get this back on me before they get back, too.”

“Quit worrying,” he says, and you feel the stiff fabric give away, laces coming undone with his expert hands. “I don’t know when I’m gonna get this much time with you again.”

You let it fall from your body, freeing your breasts and revealing the sheer, ruffled slip underneath.

He hardly lets you step out of it before he tugs at the strings of the underskirt around your waist, expertly undoing that, too. It pools around your feet in swaths of peach and cream, joining your poor, undone corset.

“Slip off,” he gets out, big hands coming up to bunch in the fabric at your waist. You listen to the command almost instinctively, letting the white fabric fall from your shoulders, but realize sluggishly that—

“You’re a little too good at this,” you manage to get out as you’re finally bare up top, slip joining all your discarded clothes.

Down to your little bloomers and stockings, he lets out a huff of a laugh, one hand roaming over the bare skin of your side, other curling into the waistline of your bloomers. “What are you tryin’ to say?”

Bloomers slip down your legs with an easy pull.

“You’re a dog, Nico—!”

Your words break off into a sharp breath, just as you feel the nudge of his nose against the back of your thigh, lips settling in a wet kiss towards the inner crux of your legs. One of his hands presses on your lower back, bending you into a pretty arch for him.

The other holds you steady, creeping over your waist, thumb stroking soothingly against bare skin.

Heat rips through you like the high sun at noon, blazing, and furious. You whimper when you feel his stubble against the soft skin of the back of your thighs.

You feel where he’s headed—and it’s—in this position—

“Nico—“ you whine, and again, you try to say there isn’t time—maybe, to spare you some form of embarrassment or, or—

His tongue is sinful and hot between the shockingly wet glide between your legs. He shoulders your legs a little further apart for himself, squeezes your hip appreciatively and groans low and dirty.

You curse, hips twitching, trying to wriggle out of his hold, but he bares down. His hands squeeze.

“Don’t you run from me, sweetheart.” He gets out, gruff and soft.

And then the hot clutch of his mouth opens, sinful, against your cunt, damn near dripping onto his waiting tongue.

The whimper that works its way out of you is a flustered one, nails digging into the wood of the door as he sets to work on you. It’s messy—it’s fast and heated and his hands are being a little rough, guiding you on his mouth.

Sparks of pleasure, low in your stomach, erupt. He’s a little relentless—a little desperate. And you’re so damn wound up—

You arch into it and he hums in praise, pulling you back into the warm, wet heat of his moth, into burning pleasure.

It’s honestly a little embarrassing—

He slips one finger inside of you and curls and the angle with—his mouth—

You cry out, a pleasure burst of heat racing through your body, along the arch of your back to pulse hard and quick against his tongue.

He laughs a little when he realizes he’s already made you come, but he doesn’t let up right away. Not until you’re mewling and whining all pitiful, voice going high and desperate.

“Poor thing,” he says when he stands, crowding you against the door now with his height. His size. “Must’ve been so worked up—didn’t know you needed me that bad, sweetheart.”

“Just hurry up and fuck me—“

He laughs, low and soft, as he unzips his pants and pulls himself out. You feel him then slip through silken folds, glide all sweet and easy over where you need him most.

“Don’t have to tell me twice, hellcat.”

You groan as he sinks the head of his cock inside you. He curses. The stretch burns a little, aches deep inside—

“So fucking tight still,” he gets out, almost a growl, as he eases out and then a slow glide back in. You arch your back for him further, rock back further so he sinks deep down into you.

His turn to groan, one hand coming up to steady himself on the door by your own hand. He laces them together—sap that he is.

His other hand feels your bare body for once, no corsets or shirts in his way, calloused hands skimming over your torso. Your breasts.

He keeps himself deep inside you a moment, marveling, petting and stroking you as you try and catch your breath.

His thumb grazes the peak of your breast, pleasure skittering to life and rushing through your body. You wiggle your hips, desperate.

“Nico, c’mon, don’t tease—“ you mewl.

And then you move your hips off him, before taking him back deep inside you.

He groans again, “fuck—how could I deny you?”

You begin to set a slow pace, easing off him almost entirely before sinking back onto him. He carves a blaze inside of you, turns your mind to mush, as you continue rocking.

“Atta girl,” he gets out, watching himself disappear inside of you, before slowly pulling back out.

You moan, arching further into his touch, his embrace, before you feel his hand squeeze at your waist.

And then he thrusts, slower at first, letting you adjust. But you’re finding your own rhythm with him, chasing your own pleasure—chasing his. The way he moans, dragging you back and forth on his cock. So thick and deep, pressing into you.

His hands are all over now, savoring the way your skin feels, being able to hold and grope you like this. Rough hands on your breasts, your thighs, your ass.

You tip your head back onto his shoulder and he showers you in attention and praise—

“So fucking pretty, huh? You feel good, sweetheart? Whad’ya need from me, hm?”

“Harder,” you get out, turning desperate eyes on him. He groans again, helpless to your whims.

“Whatever my baby wants,” he says before moving to tangle a hand in your hair, taking a fistful in a swift move that has you gasping. Not too hard—but—

You moan as he sinks in roughly this time, tips your head back with his hand in your hair.

He doesn’t change the pace, just the strength. And you feel yourself flutter around him, feel the way he rumbles out another low sound of his own pleasure, as his thrusts get harder. Deeper.

“You got one more for me, sweetheart?” He asks, scattering kisses on your jaw, the side of your neck.

He lets go of your hair to skim his hand down the front of your body, to find the bundle of nerves between the crux of your thighs. It changes the angle, he crowds you, big bare chest up against your back. You’re so close he hardly even pulls out of you now, and you grind back against him.

“That’s it,” he hums, “take what you want, pretty girl.”

That’s all it really takes, with his fingers making quick, easy passes over your clit.

Your moan is broken, walls tightening up around him as he groans.

“Ha—fuck, good girl—just like that.”

He buries himself to the hilt just to feel you come around him, just to feel the way you squeeze and milk him.

“Nico—“ you get out, “want you—want you to come—“

Again, he says, voice a little wrecked, “how could I deny you?”

And then grabs hold of your hips to thrust, hard, and deep, chasing his own pleasure. It doesn’t take him long, especially when you start mewling and begging for him, arching all up into his hands desperately.

He comes hard, you feel him pulse and jump inside you, insides flooding with warm.

You’re both breathing a little heavy on the come-down, his lips scattering kisses along your bare shoulders.

For a moment, it’s peaceful— the sun is setting in a gold fury out the window, casting you both in its glory. Your body is warm and loose and—you press back into him.

You realize you want more, wiggling your hips again, but he stills you.

And somehow, he’s the voice of reason when he says, “I gotta get your corset back on you.”

You curse.

You have maybe, maybe five minutes. If that.

And then you’re both a flurry of movements, trying to clean up and get clothes back on. He helps you back into your slip.

He takes a seat on the edge of one of the beds and you stand between his legs, facing him, as he helps with your skirts, dutifully tying off the knots around your waist.

And then he’s helping you with your corset—

Nimble, knowing fingers lacing it up as if he’s done it a hundred times before, barely looking over the curve of your waist to do it.

He tightens it up, nice and snug, and you gasp at the way his big hands pull at it. At the cinch he makes.

He looks up at you, all dark, smoldering eyes.

“That was a real pretty sound,” he rumbles, twisting the lace around his hands carefully, then giving another swift tug.

You gasp again, reaching out to steady yourself on his broad shoulders.

He swears under his breath, “I need at least forty-eight hours with you alone.”

You hardly get a retort, because you both hear commotion down the hall of the inn. And two familiar voices bickering—

You lurch away from him, stepping out of his grasp and bustling over to the other bed, where you’d set down your bag, as if you might be unpacking.

Nicholas pulls out a pack of his cigarettes, puts one between his lips and lights it just as the door bursts open.

Meryl is berating Vash over something, but they’ve got the water they set out to find. And the town is still standing.

Vash cocks his head all funny when he gets in the room and looks between you and Nicholas, but otherwise doesn’t say a word.

Meryl, oblivious, is going on about how Vash almost stuck his nose somewhere he shouldn’t.

“What else is new?” You snort, trying to feel normal and not like jelly, not like you want to collapse in the arms of the man just across the room from you.

You turn to keep folding clothes, when Meryl says;

“Oh—your corset came undone. It’s untied.”

For a moment, your heart stops.

You glance at Nicholas, who catches your eye through a haze of smoke.

“Let me fix it.” Meryl says easily and you nod, swallowing, mumbling a thank you, as you turn away from her.

Her hands take the ribbon in hand and begin to wind and tie.

You face Nicholas, who’s eyeing you darkly.

And then Vash who says, “strange thing, that. Good catch, Meryl.”

He shares a look with Nicholas.

And then he chirps, “who’s sleeping with who tonight?”

You almost choke.

Meryl pipes up about how obviously you and her are sleeping together and Vash and Nicholas can figure something out—just like always. Why would it be any different? She asks.

True to his list of disastrous namesakes, what Vash says next makes pandemonium break out among the room. And truly, this might as well have been the trouble he was trying to stick his nose into, the kind of trouble that might just take down the town itself with the storm it’s about to cause.

And here you thought they’d managed to avoid trouble and you and Nicholas had gotten away scot-free.

Vash shrugs and says, “I dunno— why was her corset untied?”

[batwritings]

Kinktober Day 15 - Mirror Sex

Some more Obey Me to balance out the military men! Enjoy!~

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Asmodeus asking you to try on clothes he’d picked out for you after a heavy day of retail therapy was absolutely nothing new. It actually became a bit of a bonding experience for the two of you. “You’ve got to add more color to your wardrobe Y/N!” He’d cheer, absolutely giddy when you tried on something outside of your normal attire.

So when he texted you to swing by his room for a bit of a fashion show, you weren’t exactly surprised. What did surprise you however, was the choice of clothes sitting against his bed sheets. “Uh Asmo?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “This is uh…an interesting choice for a fashion show.”

“Oh don’t be modest,” the demon purrs. It was getting harder and harder to tell by the day when Asmodeus was trying to charm you and when he wasn’t. “You’d look stunning in it darling! Just try it on, please? For me?” You look over and see those pretty sunset eyes looking at you so expectantly and sigh heavily. 

“Fine, fine,” you groan. Slowly but surely you undo your uniform until you’re completely undressed. You can see Asmodeus lick his lips, but that’s also nothing new, not to you at least. You blush regardless, quickly starting to pull the ensemble on. It’s a lovely lace bodice with matching garter and sheer underwear. “Well? How does it look?”

“Hmm,” the avatar of lust muses softly, looking you over. In the dim light of his room, you manage to miss the darkening of his eyes and how his pupils dilate like a beat eyeing it’s prey. “Come stand in front of my mirror, let me see better.” 

A little embarrassed, you do as he asks. Asmo’s floor length mirror doesn’t miss a thing on your body. How the fabric hugs all of your curves, how the sheer fabric does little to actually cover your body where it lays. It actually feels kind of nice against your skin, even the most intimate parts, but you push that thought down quickly.

The demon snakes his arms around your torso with a thoughtful hum, his head resting on your shoulder. He makes eye contact with you in your reflection, a knowing smile on his lips. “You look absolutely divine in that you know?” He tells you, voice practically dripping with desire.  “Almost as good as myself.

You’re so caught up in his honeyed words, you don’t even notice his hands sliding down your legs. You see how Asmo relishes your gasp as perfectly manicured fingers caress your sex beneath the sheer fabric. You immediately bite your lip; between the touches and the energy radiating off the demon behind you, it’s hard not to make noises from the pleasure.

“Now now darling, don’t hid those pretty noises from me,” he coos. “You know you sound just as pretty as you look.” His warm tongue licks behind the shell of your ear before nipping at your earlobe. 

“A-Asmo…!” you whine, hips bucking forward. You knew this little song and dance all too well by now. Foreplay was nice, but the fallen angel was sooner to work you up to your peak and keep you there for as long as he saw fit. 

Lithe fingers worked your sex in a slow but steady pace. Sinful words dripped from perfect pink lips, every so often leaving a sweet kiss or a nip against your neck and shoulder. Asmo’s free hand slid up underneath the light fabric of the bodice to thumb over your nipple. He giggles sweetly at your reaction, your head falling back against his shoulder.

“My my, how easily you fall apart for me sweetheart,” he teases. The hand on your nipple leaves, causing you to groan at the lack of attention. He comes to lightly hold your jaw, adjusting it so you can see yourself in his mirror. “See? See how lovely you look?”

Your eyes were glazed over in arousal, brow knitted together as your body craved more and more. Your knees were wobbling, trying to hold yourself up as pleasure coursed through your veins. You distantly wondered how much of this was actually feeling good and how much as due to Asmodeus’ influence as the avatar of lust. That thought was immediately wiped away as that telltale coil in the pit of your stomach tightened to it’s breaking point.

“Asmo…!” You moaned, trying to tear your eyes away from your reflection. “So close, so c-close..!” Your hips were bucking up erratically into the demon’s hand.

Asmo kisses your cheek sweetly. “Go ahead sweetie,” he tells you, voice low in your ear. The hand holding your jaw goes back to toying with your chest. “Let me feel that raw energy from you~”

You’re not in any position to deny him. Your knees buckle as pleasure overtakes you, a long moan that mixes with a cry leaving your throat. The narcissistic fourth born supports you easily, letting your weight rest against him. You can hear him chuckle softly behind your panting.

“Looks like we’ll have to have fashion shows in the mirror more often hmm?~”