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onerainydayatthespringcourt · 8 months

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Discussing the tithe in ACoMaF:

Honestly, this is likely a hill I’m going to die on, but I’m willing. So, let’s talk about the tithe in ACoMaF.

The tithe:

It is further explained that Tamlin pushed the collection of the tithe back one month to give every one just a bit more time to collect it.

If however a faerie still fails in handing in their tithe, the following happens:

That’s what Lucien tells Feyre.

Everyone who fails to bring the tithe will get an additional three days to be able to still make it. Granted, depending on what the tithe is, three days might not be enough. But, I’ll get to that in a second.

Note also: Tamlin will be expected to hunt them down. Note that it says expected, and not "he wants to hunt them down bc etc."

And then, when Tamlin does actually confront the water-wraith, we get this information:

So, you don’t actually have to hand in the tithe in just three days. You can literally just wait 6 months and pay double. Now, double might seem like an unfair increase, but really it isn’t. If you think about it, all that this rule is, is an extension of the time that you get for earning the first tithe. You just get an additional six months.

Also, as it was established, the tithe is literally calculated and based on your income and status (whatever that means. I suppose it means that even the rich that don’t have an income, but just a stale heritage, get taxed accordingly). So it means that acquiring the tithe isn’t an impossible feat. It’s really just taxes, but more fair, because this time the rich get taxed accordingly, too.

Also:

You might wonder: how much is the tithe for the water-wraiths that they failed to hand it in in the time given to them?

Through Feyre, we find out that the tithe for the water-wraiths is, drumroll please 🥁…. A bucket of fish. Yeah, a single basket of fish for the entirety of the water wraith population of the pond …

All they had to do was hand it a single basket of fish. And they didn’t.

(Also, I find it so stupid that Feyre literally just says they don’t even need a basket of fish, bc how would she know? She never asked Tamlin what happens to the things people bring for the tithes. She just assumed that they don’t need them bc she is dead set on making Tamlin out to be this splurging man, living lavishly in unnecessary luxury)

Anyway, now, during the conversation the water wraith has with Tamlin, Feyre gets the impression that the water wraith is starving. Why? Bc the water wraith claims the pond they live in is empty of fish.

Now, why is that? Because the water wraiths ate all the fish.

Feyre immediately makes the connection between her and her sisters, as they too know what it means to have no food, to feel the hunger.

Only later we find out that the water wraiths aren’t actually starving. They’re just cursed with "insatiable hunger", whatever that means.

Now, I just saw that it says appetite instead of hunger, which makes it even worse. Omg.

So they’re not even starving, they’re just constantly craving food.

But then, in the next line, it says that they do actually die of starvation. But that begs the question: HOW?

When is it that their hunger/ appetite isn’t satiated enough (which, by definition it can never actually be???? Because it’s insatiable ) that they starve?

It’s all just super unclear. And vague. It makes zero sense 🤦‍♀️😒

Okay, during that conversation Feyre also tells Tamlin that instead of making them pay their tithe, they should help them replenish the pond. Tamlin declines and Feyre in turn thinks that he is being unnecessarily cruel etc.

But, here in the conversation with Alis, it is revealed that actually no one, not a single faerie in the spring court, would have given the water wraiths money or whatever, because it virtually makes no sense. They just spend whatever they will get trying to satiate a hunger that cannot be mended.

And they know this. Everyone else knows it. But Feyre refuses to believe it.

The jewelry that Feyre gave them will last merely a week. A week. That’s nothing. But somehow, we’re all supposed to be on Feyres samaritan side here and think that it would be the right thing to give them money/ resources etc.

Until when? Exactly? Because as it is, there would never be an end to it.

Now I’m not saying that making them give something is more sensical. It’s obvious that they struggle to curb their hunger and making them forfeit on food has proven to be an exhausting task for them to accomplish.

Only that … only that according to Tamlin, the tithe has been around for ages. His father did it like this, the father of his father did it like this and so on and so forth. Btw, that means it’s been a lot of time since faeries essentially don’t die unless they're killed. And all of this in turn means that the water wraiths have had to have paid their tithes in the past. Otherwise they wouldn’t be around anymore. So it gets you wondering: how come is it that they were able to pay in the past and only now they can’t?

Now, it could definitely be that when Tamlin killed Amarantha and took over the spring court again, they struggled to adjust to it in the little time that passed. However, that’s just a guess. And it’s not backed up by anything, because Acotar has little to no world building and all that we know about the history we find out in the details that are conveniently added just how it fits the narrative whenever a new book comes out 😀

Therefore, the explanation I would offer is:

The tithe is just another example of Sjm's inconsistent, bad worldbuilding and it goes to show furthermore, that she was just trying to find a way to make Tamlins character look bad. Unsuccessfully, if I may say so.

Anyway, I can’t believe I’ve spent so much time discussing the fking tithe, but this has been simmering in my brain for like two years now so I just needed to make this post!

#pro tamlin #anti feysand #anti rhysand #anti feyre #acotar #anti sjm #spring court #tithe #tamlin analysis #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #tamlin redemption #onerainydayatthespringcourt

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lyssasdrafts · 3 months

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spot the difference challenge

#when people say lucien is a fox #this is what i pictured #— lyssa’s thoughts #acotar #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #acotar lucien #a court of thorns and roses #acowar lucien #lucien acowar #lucien acomaf #acomaf lucien #lucien vanserra acotar #autumn court #spring court #acotar memes

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novaricewrites · 3 months

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If Magic Chooses-

So we know the magic in Prythian ties the land, Courts, and the High Lords and can be vaguely sentient (as with the Cauldron).

It's unclear how it chooses the High Lords but the magic seems to be deliberate and adheres faithfully to whoever it chooses. Even Amarantha couldn't fully access it despite all that she did - she could only prevent the Lords from using it against her.

So imagine if this was explored.

E.g: The time when Feyre and the IC stole the Book of Breathings from the Summer Court as guests - literally committing a crime worthy of a magical death sentence. This then left the Summer Court open to Hybern's invasion, further enabled by what Feyre did in the Spring Court.

This didn't just harm the High Lords. It harmed the Courts in a major way. The very land and the people living in there were devastated by it. And it must have caused mass turmoil that even the magic sensed.

So imagine because of this intricate connection to the land, the people and the High Lords - it caused Feyre's bond to the Spring and Summer magic to become hard to control or even the magic rejecting her.

The kernels of magic are technically still the High Lords'. They're not Feyre's magic but were gifted like handing her a scale off their essence. And it would make sense if the magic reacted to the state of the High Lords (and deeper the courts themselves) if they experienced deep, visceral emotions & damage thanks to Feyre.

Magic being fickle about who wields it would sort of suit the capriciousness of Faeries. It would also require Feyre to use her wits and sense to navigate situations instead of resorting to the Feysand tactics of Lie, Steal and Justify.

It would give actual consequences and gravity to her actions, and add depth to why her being a Made Fae is a big deal. She is now attached via these kernels of magic to the land in a way that she can't run from. Just as High Lords (even those reluctant like Tamlin are).

Just the plot potential and character development. And the internal conflict over actions that we never got.

#acotar #acotar analysis #sjm critical #anti sjm #anti feyre archeron #but not really cause I wanted to like her in the beginning #anti rhysand #he still and always sucked though #anti inner circle #anti ic #anti amren #we were robbed #a court of thorns and roses #feyre critical #pro tarquin #summer court #spring court #pro spring court #tamlin

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teddyhoneybear · 24 days

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𝓣𝓪𝓶𝓵𝓲𝓷 - 𝓗𝓲𝓰𝓱 𝓛𝓸𝓻𝓭 𝓸𝓯 𝓽𝓱𝓮 𝓢𝓹𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰 𝓒𝓸𝓾𝓻𝓽

~click here for more~

#tamlin week #tamlin week 2024 #acotar #high lord of spring #high lord of the spring court #spring court #moodboard #i could call this an evolution of my moodboards #i really wish people would love this character more #tamlin #tamlin acotar #pro tamlin #acotar series #a court of thorns and roses #pro tamlin healing arc

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whitedemon-ladydeath · 4 months

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considering Tamlin was beloved of his people and it required Feyre getting in their heads to make them revolt against him to make the Court fall, I have to wonder how the average Spring Court citizen feels about Feyre, who caused a bloodbath and also destabilized their home, and Rhys, who keeps trespassing into their home and has left mutilated bodies on Tamlins lawn and happens to have his super duper evil mask

the human girl who saved them all came to destroy their home and got many innocent people killed like :/ I'd be bitter

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #sjm critical #anti rhysand #anti feyre archeron #tamlin #spring court

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acourtofmishapandmistakes · 4 days

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Tamlin: How is spring not everyone's favorite season? The trees are PINK guys!

Cassian: Allergies are a problem.

Tamlin: But pink!

Azriel: And it's hot.

Tamlin: PINK!

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yaralulu · 2 months

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cannot stop thinking about tamlin and lucien trying to figure out if feyre was single bc if she wasn’t that would’ve been less than ideal.

The looks they keep giving each other 😭i just know they were freaking the fuck out for a second there.and feyre being so confused as to why these ancient faeries are inquiring about her love life and looking so nervous while doing it makes this scene so much funnier .

another moment i cannot stop thinking about from book 1 is tamlin trying to compliment feyre and we see lucien 🗣️⁉️nodding to tamlin encouragingly to keep going 🗣️⁉️lucien being tamlins wingman and giving him flirting tips and date ideas is very real to me.

this friendship is all i can think about unfortunately.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #lucien vanserra #lucien acotar #tamlin #tamlin acotar #feyre archeron #lucien and tamlin #lucien and tamlins friendship is very important to me #spring court #book 1 vibes are unmatched lowkey #funny #headcanon #acotar series #acotar headcanons

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thedickgraysons · 1 month

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tamlin doesn’t need a redemption arc. tamlin needs a rocking chair and a 12 gauge laid across his lap so he can take pot shots at rhysand the next time he next breaks onto his property

#a court of thorns and roses #tamlin #pro tamlin #rhysand winnows directly in front of the spring manor #tam spits out the long grass he was chewing on and yells GET OFF MY LAWNNN #it would be therapeutic i think #bc why do you just keep showing up to kick a depressed & mentally ill man when he’s down what the fuck rhysand #rhysand critical #bc of prev tags

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acomaflove · 5 months

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Feyre, (back in the Spring Court), trying to not blow her cover each time Ianthe breathes:

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taymartiart · 26 days

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Day 2 of @tamlinweek

Warrior

#Tamlin #maasverse #acotar #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #high lord of the spring court #spring court #SJM

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tadpolesonalgae · 27 days

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To Old Gods

Tamlin x reader

synopsis: you spend a clear, spring night under the pale moon with the High Lord of Spring, only you had not understood the intimacy he was inviting you to join him in, under a night where the veil thins, and things become slightly other

a/n: I realised as a writer, I am technically able to put my own spin on each character. I hope you enjoy this peaceful night journey, and would recommend reading this somewhere you can see the moon :)

Day 1 for @tamlinweek : Heir of Spring

music: Tamlin, by Faun

word count: 1k~

This is the High Lord of Spring you respect and worship—the one who leads the rituals and pays his dues to the old magic.

How he walks silently through the grassy fields, the blades allowed to grow tall and wild so they whisper against his legs as he walks bare-footed along the trail. With small twigs and wild berries woven throughout his regal hair, swaying free in the fresh spring breeze, he resembles a disciple of the old priestesses. Clothed in a thin pale robe, the dark marking are stark against his skin—soot-like dust clouding the rims of his eyes, streaking in three lines outward like scars, and as sharply drawn as talons. One set up over his brows, streaking back into the pale gold of his hair; the second set dripping a tear’s path over the sharp high of his cheekbones disappearing just above the point of his ears around his temples; the third pair cutting straight down from his dark emerald eyes, flowing down over the harsh cut of his jaw, over the strength of his neck, down to the tangle of swirls and symbols that branch across his partially bare chest.

Beneath the moonlight, solemn and stern, you can’t help the comparison that springs to mind—with how the gods were drawn long ago, etched on parchment, or carved into stone. Those same marking that are so frequently forgotten, a tradition sacred to the Spring Court, that the rest of Prythian, even fae-kind as a whole, seem to have either forgotten or discarded. But not here. Here, those carvings are remembered and preserved, worshipped and awed over.

It’s precious, an experience you treasure, being allowed the honour of watching over such a private ceremony. To be permitted near him on this night when he honours his past fathers, the bloodline that stretches and twines like a new stream that has yet to forge its own straight lines through the earth, so meanders and ambles.

How the moonlight spills across his robes, shining over the pale gold of his hair—sacred and holy. Beneath the silver light, you can make out the triskelion that’s been marked on his chest, partially concealed beneath the robes that have been arranged over his broad shoulders. The interlocking spirals stand out clearly, the familiar marking easy to recognise. Earth, water, and sky. Birth, life, and death. The patient cycle of life as it repeats quietly, relentlessly. Repeating persistently yet ever-evolving.

A star falls across the sky, and his green-gold eyes follow its path, attention unfaltering despite the will-o-wisps that glow and bumble about in the field, casting pale blue light about the place as they bob and swirl with the breeze. There are few clouds in the sky this night, meaning their distinct, calming glow is enhanced by the moonlight, practically shimmering beneath its cool-toned light.

He turns in the field, a slow shift of his torso as his gaze finds you effortlessly, features patient and somber, and you move as softly as you can manage, unaccustomed to being barefoot. Aware of the earth beneath your feet, how surprisingly bouncy it feels, like freshly tilled soil that sinks as you step upon it. You wade through the grass, pausing at his side as to not overstep—it is a privilege to even be witnessing this moment, let alone to be invited so close.

Initially you hadn’t understood the importance of the night. Had understood its significance, the value of paying respect to those who had come before, recognising he owed much to his fathers—but had failed to consider the personal ramifications of undergoing the ceremony. What it means, for him—he, who should never have become High Lord in the first place. To stand in the open fields and welcome the past spirits closer, the veil thinning between here and elsewhere. What that could mean for a person who has lost his family, to have this one night where they might once more be together, united on one plane.

Tamlin’s gold flecked eyes are quiet but clear, sharp and as aware as ever, refusing to cower from the night, insisting on being fully present to honour his line.

His gaze locks with yours, and in this brief moment they seem almost ancient, carrying a weight he’s never allowed you to see before. Perhaps one even he’s unaware of carrying, simply having taken over from his father without examining what was being passed onto him. The kind of burden he would be forced to hold upon his back. It’s gone as swiftly as it appeared, his expression patient but solemn as he watches you with an acute understanding that has the hairs on your forearms rising. Feeling bare in a way no amount of clothing could aid with, like he’s somehow able to look directly within you, to scoop up pure starlight from the pool of your soul.

He makes no effort to speak, and you have no inclination to disrupt the peace, so join him in his silence, sharing the whisper of the breeze between you, the swish of grass and the far off snap of twigs as they break beneath soft paws. Tamlin’s gaze returns back to the sky, and the will-o-wisps dance closer, near enough to cast light upon your own robes. Quiet and together, the two of you stand, side by side as you share in the sacred moment. Looking up into the bright, night sky, lit by shimmering starlight, swirling and wonderfully complex. Even in the darkest hours, it’s surprising how bright the world is.

Your heart falters a little when his broad palm extends toward you, and you find deep emerald eyes once again peering down at you, far older than the male before you. There’s a sincerity in the gold flecks of his gaze that has your mind quietening, understanding the request for company on a night as long and as tiring as this. Not tiring in the sense of physical exertion, but in the kind that sleeping poorly despite having rested for so long brings. In the kind of restless strain that grief offers, heavy and mournful, yet enlivened by the rebirth of Spring. A relentless awareness that persists tirelessly, but that has been put into a creature that requires sleep and recuperation to recover and continue.

Your fingers slide over the surprisingly rough skin of his hands, settling in his palm as you’re brought closer, stood directly beside him, beneath this long night.

A night of mourning, and longing. A night for wishes to be made, and relations to be resolved.

A night for past worries to be released, and new beginnings to take root.

A night for rebirth, the kind only Spring can offer.

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria

#tamlin x reader #tamlinweek2024 #tamlin fic #tamlin #high lord of spring #a court of thorns and roses #tamlin x you

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arson-09 · 1 month

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tonights acotar thoughts are with the Illyrian women and how rhysand has utterly failed them despite his supposed efforts

Hes ‘allowed’ them to become warriors if they wish. But thats not even the bare minimum. from my memory he acknowledges that he doesnt enforce the wing clipping laws (smooth move) so that’s basically useless and as to be expected of a man, he misses the point of feminism and equality laws. WHERE are the laws and protections for women in marriages?? if the illyrian are so ‘brutal’ and ‘backwards’ the assumption can be made that divorce isn’t a thing unless the man requests it. No women requested divorces and probably no such thing as no fault divorces. As well as forced marriages (which also brings up the consent age) Adding on, what about abortions and other pre natal and natal laws and protections? again, assuming women arent allowed to have abortions or simply any bodily autonomy, where are those decrees rhysand? Im not even getting into the potential of LGBTQ+ illyrians and their rights (Logically there are LGBTQ+ illyrians but ofc sjm wouldn’t mention them)

He makes such a fuss about it being a womans choice (a hypocrite as we see in acosf) yet unless a woman is able too or wants to fight he doesnt seem to care. Which is also a major flaw of sjms writing, women only gain their independence if they can kick ass and fuck as they want. Which is of course valid but thats a very shallow way to view feminism and equality. The whole point is that a woman can choose, wether its to be a warrior or a stay at home mother, but theres nothing done for those women who want that lifestyle.

This has influenced me in my fic writing a lot to where a this topic has become a major focal point in my fic somewhat by accident. I think that logically there would be a rebellion from mostly illyrian women against rhysand, hes promised them so much yet has delivered so little.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #anti rhysand #anti night court #anti inner circle #im not anti feyre but im disappointed in her character #sjm #sjm critical #an acotar thought exercise if you will #In my fic i have it planned that a prominent female illyrian revolts against rhysand lol #She along with her mates (yes mates) leads a large group of illyrian men women and lgbtq+ out to the spring court with tams help #Shes such a fun character to develop along with her mates and if i can work with my adhd i will hopefully be able to write about them in my #fic i ran out of characters fuck you tumblr let me yap #its late so forgive me for any grammer errors or mistagging #rhysand #this is also a genuine criticism guys i know how yall rhysie fans like to tussel

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thisblogisaboutabook · 27 days

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Spring Fever

Tamlin x Reader - Smut - Angst - Fluff

After an outburst directed toward an unwanted visitor, a resident of Tamlin’s manor prepares to face the consequences of her actions but the High Lord has something else in mind.

warnings: smut, language

Moonlight and night air filtered through the edges of the pastel velvet curtains as the beat of my racing heart overtook the silence of my bedchamber. Seated at the edge of the large four-poster bed in my now permanent room, I took steadying breaths. In. Hold. Out. Hold. Repeat.

Who was I to have shown anything less than reverence to the High Lord of the Night Court? To his credit - in his own fucked up way - he’d tried to help Tam out of the stupor he’d spent years in but the male had been through so much already. How could the face of the mate of the love of his life bring any peace to his already broken soul?

These visits always ruined what small progress Tamlin had made. I tried to remain calm but damn it - Tamlin had finally stopped curling up outside of my door at night, on alert for any hidden threats. He’d given me a genuine smile on a stroll through the gardens just this morning. He’d even cooked this evening. Yes, a simple meal of roast venison and root vegetables, but a meal nevertheless. He was making progress and as if he sensed it, Rhysand showed up to “check in” on Tamlin right after dinner.

And just like that, Tamlin’s demeanor crumpled. I couldn’t take it anymore, the irreverence toward my mate’s own trauma. My temper rose to a point of no return, pouring out as spewed vitriol very unbecoming of a lady in the manor of a High Lord.

To his credit, Rhysand only eyed me with intrigue and didn’t mist me on the spot after I suggested he take his “good intentions” and shove them up his ass and showed him the door.

Tamlin only eyed me with an unreadable expression and requested that I stay behind while he escorted the Night Court’s High Lord from the estate.

Deciding against pressing my luck further I exited the foyer and saw myself to my chambers where I now sat waiting for the inevitable lecture, hell, maybe he’d kick me out. I only lived here out of his generosity. His tolerance of me certainly spurred on by the unaccepted mating bond that snapped when the magic chose me on Calanmai.

Two lonely souls bound together by fate.

We’d spent the past ten months living in companionable silence, both healing from the wounds our souls bore. And now, I’d likely torn down the careful progress we’d built brick-by-brick in one fell swoop.

The creak of my door withdrew me from my self-loathing retrospection and the quiet thud of boots crossing the wooden floors grew louder with each step in my direction. I didn’t look up. Couldn’t face him. Didn’t need to as the tension between us laid it all out clearly.

He’d never laid an ill-intentioned hand on me, we rarely even touched. Calanmai was a one-time thing. We’d brushed hands a time or two at the dinner table, he’d caught me as I stumbled in the garden once. I almost - almost - flinched as my High Lord’s hand came into my peripheral but all I was met with was a broad, gentle palm to the nape of my neck and the soft caress of a thumb running along my jaw line. I looked to him with furrowed brows, eyes lining with silver as I awaited whatever came next, but all I was met with were deep green eyes filled with anything but rage.

I averted my gaze as he fell to a knee in front of me. “Look at me, dove.” his typically gruff voice softer than I’d ever heard.

He waited patiently before I turned my head to look upon him once more. His eyes bore into mine, searing right into the depths of my soul. I could feel my heart hammering as his breaths grew rapid.

“You-“ he spoke, one large hand remained caressing my jaw as the other covered my own hands, folded in my lap. “You defended me.”

I puzzled. Was that a shock to him?

His emerald gaze flicked back and forth while remaining locked on my face, searching for an answer to an unspoken question. Why?

Withdrawing one of my hands from his grasp and resting it delicately upon his muscled chest, I replied definitively, “Because you’re mine.”

His breathing paused, rose lips pressing into a firm line. Processing. The silence between us pressing into me like a blade.

His voice cracked with his next words. “You want me?”

“I have since your eyes found mine on fire night.”

Before I could shift, or speak further, his lips were crashing into me like the violent swell of a storm falling upon rocky shores.

My lips gaped, breath hitching at his response, the desire I’d shoved deep within me pouring out at once as I opened for him, his tongue sweeping into my mouth, dancing along mine. A small, involuntary whimper escaped me as he lifted off of his knee, leaning over me as I slid back deeper onto the bed, careful not to let my lips leave his for even a moment - eliciting a groan from Tamlin.

My finger tangled into his long, blonde hair as he braced his weight over me with one arm, his other holding my hip, thumb running over the silk of my cherry blossom dress.

“You’re mine.” I rasped out in a hushed murmur between our shared breaths, pulling away just enough to look into the eyes of my mate again.

My chest heaved, breasts rising and falling with each gasp. I managed another whisper, “You’re mine, Tam.”

With those words, he lost any semblance of control. His fingers tugged my hair, exposing the column of my neck to him. His soft lips pressed heated kisses along my jawline, down to my neck, giving little nips and licks over the corresponding hurt as he went. “You’re mine.” He growled back, possessiveness overtaking his tone.

All I could manage was an “mmhmm” as he pulled the neckline of my dress down, exposing my breasts to him, his lips latched onto a peaked nipple and gods - the mouth on this male. As he licked and sucked on my breasts, jolts of electricity shot through me, straight to my core. I needed him lower and he knew it. His claws unsheathed, shredding through my dress and undergarments. I shivered as his stubble grazed my abdomen with each kiss tracking lower and lower. So close to where I needed him. My legs fell open in invitation, displaying the dripping need he elicited from me. His pupils blew wide as he took in the sight before him, realization of just how desperately I wanted him activating the most primal facets of the mating bond.

He pulled back, eyes boring into mine once more. “Say it, Y/N.”

My heart nearly shattered at the pleading expression of his features. This was real. My desire for him so tangible that he need only run a finger up my center to remind himself. But this was deeper than that, deeper than just want, deeper than mere lust.

“Tamlin.” I whispered.

“I’m yours. All of me.”

And I could have sworn the slightest hint of silver lined my mate’s thick lashes as he let loose that final reign of restraint.

His mouth latched onto my clit. A male starved. Starved for affection, starved for intimacy, starved for understanding, for love. But I saw him, all of him - and I wasn’t afraid.

His tongue laved against my core, moving with expert precision as he teased my most sensitive nerves, swirling around my clit before lowering to my entrance. He groaned like my essence was the sweetest nectar of any flora in his court and I couldn’t hold back the moans and praises spilling from my lips.

A thick finger plunged into me, curling so deliciously as he sucked my throbbing clit. He’d send me over the edge in no time. “Please.” I begged as the imminent release had me on the edge of a precipice.

I whimpered as he pulled back, the sharp angles of his chin and plush lips shining with the coat of my arousal. I could have come just from that sight alone. His deep voice sending chills through me as he commanded, “Say it, one more time baby. One more time, and then let go for me.”

His mouth returned to my core, latching back onto that sensitive bundle of nerves as two fingers now curled inside of me, his other hand tweaking a rosey nipple, “I’m yours. I’m yours. Oh gods, Tam. I’m only yours.” I chanted as release barreled through me. My sex pulsing around his fingers. His hips bucking into the bed in time with my orgasm, desperate for friction.

And I was greedy.

“Tamlin.” I spoke through heated breaths. “I need more.”

With a flick of his wrist, his clothes were gone. My jaw dropped when he rose to his knees before me, his erect length already beading with precum.

I licked my lips, raising myself to admire as he gave a few pumps to his heavy, aching cock. My mouth watering with the need to taste him.

He splayed a hand between my breasts, pushing me back into the mattress. “Time for that later. Need my baby coming on my cock.”

“Oh gods.” I moaned at the words, my core was an inferno with them at the realization that my mate needed to be in me just as badly as I needed to be filled by him.

And fill me he did. His head easily slid through my slick folds and I knew that length, and fuck, that girth, would hurt in the most pleasurable of ways.

“All of you.” I whimpered. “I need all of you. Now.”

With that he scooped me up, spreading my legs to straddle his hips. He braced his weight on his arms behind him, his muscles flexing with the shift, and crossing his legs, spreading my legs further across him.

“Take what you want.” He commanded.

And I realized then that he wanted me to set the pace, that he’d never risk hurting me. Especially since it had been so long since we’d been together.

I aligned his length to my entrance, locking my gaze onto him, admiring the planes of his gorgeous face before meeting the sea of emerald taking in each micro-expression of my own face.

“Yours.” I spoke boldly, and sank down each thick inch of his cock until I was seated to the hilt. The pleasure quickly overtaking any semblance of pain.

Chills spread through me at the loud growl of satisfaction he let out at the sensation of my cunt gripping all of him. I remained pressed down, gently swiveling my hips to adjust to his size, and pressing a hand to the slight bulge his length created in my belly.

“Fuck.” I whimpered. “You’re so- oh - you feel so…” my brain couldn’t formulate any words beyond that as another gasp escaped my lips as I rose up slowly and sank back down again, moaning in pleasure with each stroke of his length within me.

My arms wrapped around his shoulders as he shifted up, easing the weight off his arms and taking over, lifting my hips and sheathing me back down his cock, over and over, harder and harder, my heavy breasts bouncing in time with the pace. The sounds of my wetness gushing with each thrust was obscene. Removing one hand from my hip, he slid it between us and pressed his thumb to my clit. Within seconds I fell over the edge again, my face falling to the juncture of his neck and shoulder, incoherent babbles pouring from me, muffled by his neck.

“Gods” thrust. “You’re” thrust. “Divine.” He thrust my still fluttering pussy down onto him once more and let out a loud groan as he found his release, the pulsing of his cock as he spilled into me threatened to push me over the edge once more.

Our breathing evened out as he remained sheathed within me. I kept my face buried into his neck, refusing to let this moment of bliss end. My mate had yet to loosen his grasp on me, so we stayed like that, reveling in the feel of skin on skin for some time.

Finally I rose off of him, though he was hesitant to loosen his grip. “Stay with me tonight?” I asked hesitantly. Afraid he’d once again retreat to his chambers or to the hallway outside of my door.

Tamlin laid down pulling me onto his chest, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “Every night.” He spoke into my hair.

“Every night.” I hummed in agreement.

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General ACOTAR list: @lilah-asteria

@tamlinweek - tagging you for Day 3 “mates” but not sure if it counts since I posted this on Sunday. This is my first of any “weeks” I’ve participated in 🥰

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