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acourtofmenandthirst · 1 year

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Bow For Your High Lady

All smut, no plot. Switch Eris maybe? (idrk what that means also am shit at writing sub Eris - I TRIED THO OK) you know its hard for him to relinquish control ;)

Warnings: all smut, edging :)

Word Count: 7.2K

Eris had a particular affection for replaying the sounds of your moans while he went about his day as High Lord of the Autumn Court.

During training, all he kept seeing was your ass shaking against his hips as he pounded into you from behind. Hell, he nearly jerked himself off during lunch when he started thinking about how tight your pussy was. In the High Lord’s meeting, instead of listening to Rhysand drone on about that Nightmare bullshit, Eris imagined you bouncing on his cock in front of all of them, crying out for your High Lord.

Gods, he couldn’t get enough of you. He’d have you for breakfast, lunch, and dinner - dessert, too. In fact it was for dessert that he usually ate you out until he was satisfied enough to lick the plate clean.

But you were somehow insatiable. Always begging him for more, more, more; you were all over him. In front of the court, watching him sit tall in his throne, long legs spread wide and outstretched before him, you could barely wait until the last Fae had left the room before you’d unbuttoned his pants and sucked him dry. He’d fucked you slowly as you read over his policy changes - he drew lazy circles over your clit until you came, stumbling over the word ‘Autumn’ over and over again. Territorial male.

You even rode him while he had breakfast, and you licked the strawberry jam down his chest while the tea on the tabletop had gone cold.

Almost every night, Eris came to your bedroom run ragged from a day spent as High Lord - between meetings, travel, training, and courtier bullshit, he was absolutely drained. But while the High Lord secretly loved when you babied him, relishing in your time spent relaxing in a hot bath, rubbing his shoulders, and sucking his sweet cock, the male loved to take control of you. There was something about watching you on your knees, holding your ass over his face while you rode his tongue, or watching his cum drip out of your full mouth, that had the male feeling more powerful than when he sat on that godsdamned throne.

You’d spent the day in your bedroom planning your strategy for the upcoming evening. The past few days spent without Eris, leaving you in a cold bed with nothing to do. But you’d already done it all: horseback riding, sword training, baking, even embroidering. The fact of the matter was that you were bored.

And you wanted to try something.

It was the kind of thing you’d seen so rarely in your past however-many-years spent with Eris. A drunken night that left him in near shambles. He begged for you, called out for you - he was just about shaking.

And by the Cauldron, you were determined to make it happen again.

The whole day was spent readying your bedchamber for your mate’s arrival. Being in the Day Court for the past three days would ensure he’d return in a sour mood - perhaps with a slight sunburn, as well. You’d allowed yourself to be pampered; while the high maintenance High Lord was away, there were a few extra hands to dote on you. So you’d been dressed in your laciest nightgown - a short red one - and lathered in the finest salves, the amber and vanilla ones you knew Eris loved so much. The wine had been set out, to which you’d helped yourself to the first glass - something for the nerves, you’d told yourself.

The plan was foolproof, it was designed for the male you knew better than the back of your hand. But one wrong move could set him off, have the roles reversed, and would leave Eris pounding you into the mattress all night long.

Not like that would be such a bad thing.

You had timed it perfectly, you turned on the hot water as soon as your bedroom door opened. You heard him kick the heavy door shut with his boot, the thick chains and locks being drawn over the wood. You knew his routine perfectly, he’d already begun loosening his harness and belts, dropping the sword from his hip to the floor with a heavy clang. He stopped short of the bed, pausing in front of the bathroom door, left ajar just enough so that he could hear the water running.

He leaned forward, peering through the crack between the wall and door. You tried your best to look sultry, calling on the confidence that glass of wine you’d already downed was supposed to give you. You peered up at your mate over the rim of the clear glass, sipping on a bit of the fruity drink as you watched him shift his footing and push the door open. “Getting started without me?” His hands fell to the front of his jacket, beginning to unfasten the buttons that held his many layers together.

You gazed up at him from under your lashes, the closer he got, the more you had to tilt your head upwards to face him. “I grew tired of waiting - ” he stopped so close in front of you that his knuckles brushed your barely clothed chest as he worked down his jacket. “ - My Lord,” you added for good measure.

He smirked, eyeing you up and down like the predator taking in his prey, right before the chase.

A chase he was in for, indeed.

“I couldn’t wait for you,” you whispered, gaze falling as you watched him pluck the wine from your grasp. Your eyes tracked how he abandoned his unbuttoning, taking a large sip of the wine instead. You sensed the switch, picking up where he left off, finishing his jacket and shrugging it from his shoulders, dropping it to the floor behind him. You’d almost cursed the tailor for making it so tight around his broad shoulders - nearly impossible to remove. But when you watched him from afar, dressed in the tightest fitting, most extravagant suits, you’d thanked the tailor personally.

You felt his eyes on you as you continued, fiery gaze washing over you from your hair and face to your dress and cleavage. He let out a soft sight when you removed another layer, watching as your arms pushed your breasts together, moving around just enough for him to peer down the gap the silk left against your smooth skin. You rubbed your legs together, itching to touch the male as you removed his last shirt.

You took the liberty to undo his pants, letting them fall in a pool around his ankles. But you let him kick them away and remove his own boots as you shut off the water and fetched the wine bottle from the counter. You took a hearty swig before you set the spout against Eris’s glass, refilling much more than the appropriate amount. He watched your every move closely, knowing each step you took was calculated.

You smiled broadly before downing another sip straight from the bottle. “Animalistic tonight, are we?” Eris took a drink from the glass, pulling you tight against his hip as the male was now fully naked.

“I thought you liked when I was cheeky.” You could only feign so much innocence.

“A minx is what you are.” His hand fisted at the red lace that barely covered your ass.

“And you’re nothing but a hungry fox.”

His head dipped down to your neck, his breath tickling the outer shell of your ear. “I’ll ravish you like one then.” He nipped the pointed tip of your ear, but you found the strength to refrain from throwing your head back and letting him have his way with attacking your neck.

Instead, you tisked and took a step back, drawing your fingers across your collarbone to drop the thin straps of your gown. “Not tonight, you won’t.”

Eris’s red eyebrows shot up in surprise. But, never a male to argue with an undressing female, he sat back on the edge of the tub and watched as you gracefully lowered your gown, opting to run your hands over your silhouette and across your breasts. He watched with adoration, taking large sips of that delicious faewine. When you’d fully lost your shift, you took two steps closer to him, where you stood directly in front of him between those long legs, with your hands gently placed on either of his shoulders. He tilted his head back to gaze up at you, looking nearly lust drunk already. “And what do you have planned for me tonight?”

Clever male, always knew when you were up to no good. You leaned forward, just to press a kiss to the tip of his nose, ignoring his pursed lips. “You don’t want to know.”

Your mate nearly growled when you stepped back, just as his warm hands found purchase on your hips. But he’d be good and play your little games, letting you work him up - even though he’d been horny the moment he walked into the bedroom, even before he’d seen you in the bathroom wearing the red nightgown.

You took his hands in yours, pulling him up to his feet so you could step into the hot water together. Eris, always unphased by the water, despite the steam that was curling over the surface, made it into the bath first, not without grabbing the wine bottle. You took a second longer, needing to adjust to the heat before you could fully submerge yourself in front of your mate.

You let your back fall against the curve of the tub, relaxing fully as your shoulders fell into the warmth. You dropped your head against the rim of the cool porcelain, huffing a sigh of contentment. By the gods, you could feel his gaze burning into you from across the tub.

You peeked your eyes open, dead on with your assumption, as the male sat across from you with those dark brows furrowed and a slight pout adorning those pink lips of his. Even from where you were sitting across from him, you could see the pink splotched onto his cheeks and nose, where the sun had kissed him a little too much in the Day Court.

“Why are you across from me?” He looked perplexed, so utterly bewildered at why you’d sit that far from him. To be fair, your normal routine was to lay against his chest, let him wrap his arms around you or clutch your breasts. “I want you here.”

You cocked a brow in mock confusion. “On your lap?”

“On my dick.”

He could not be more serious. He thought it was going to be one of those nights. “You can’t get everything you want all the time, Eris.”

You shut your eyes and let your head rest against the edge once more. “When you’re High Lord you can.” His hand found your ankle under the water, and you swore he was burning hotter than normal.

“And what of your High Lady?” You didn’t move, not even a flinch as he dragged your ankle closer to him.

He smirked - you heard it in his voice. “She better know what’s good for her and get over here.”

You were willing to play a bit.

You rose to your knees and waded through the water, stopping just in front of your mate. His legs were bent, spread against the walls of the tub such that your only option was to crawl into his lap. So you hooked your legs around his and straddled his waist, careful to barely touch him as you leaned chest to chest with him. “This is the kind of welcome home I get from you?” He reprimanded, hands falling to your waist.

“I don’t know what you mean, my love,” you whispered, reaching an arm behind him to grab the soap from a stool beside the tub. He watched you with narrowed eyes, eyeing how your hands worked the soap into a lather and began their work across his scarred chest.

“You’re not as coy as you think you are,” he challenged, bending his legs more so his knees poked just out of the water, forcing you onto his lap fully, dick pressed against your ass.

You involuntarily rocked, steadying yourself as you pretended not to feel his cock hardening underneath you. “I think you’ll find later - ” your head dipped forward to press a light kiss in the corner of his jaw, just where it met his neck under his ear. You licked a long stripe up the shell of his ear, leaning in close to whisper the rest of your sentence. “That I am.”

He huffed a shaky sigh, unashamedly grabbing your ass with both hands, trying to rock you against his dick.

But you simply tutted, firmly planting yourself against his toned thighs. You continued across his chest, taking his arm in your hand and cleaning up and down his skin with the other. His eyes were narrowed the whole time, clearly unamused with your current plan of not fucking him. “Not even a kiss hello,” he huffed, releasing an exaggerated sigh when you switched which arm of his you were cleaning.

“Aww my poor baby,” you cooed, unable to hide your smile as you dipped your head down to capture his pouting lips with a kiss. “Better now?”

He shook his head, squeezing your ass and trying to pull you closer. You could stifle your giggle as you met his hungry lips once more. He was clearly more than ready, turning your soft kiss into a smattering of teeth and tongue. You let him have his way with you, just for a moment, since you already knew the state you’d have the poor male in soon enough.

As Eris continued his assault of kisses, you’d abandoned your soap and dragged your hand down his chest. His abdomen convulsed as you slid your fingertip down the center of his stomach and just over the fine hairs that led to the base of his cock. His hands flew up to your face, silently begging for you to stay still and continue on with your path. He tilted your head to the side, and as you gasped for breath, he met you in the middle with another sloppy kiss.

You lifted your hips to let his cock spring up below you to rest on his abs, a strangled sigh escaped the High Lord when you ran just a finger up and down the base. You braced your other hand on his shoulder, nails digging into his hardened skin, resisting the urge to run your wet pussy over his cock instead.

But it was about him and what you’d planned on doing to him later. You wanted him needy.

And by the Cauldron, he already was.

Your fingertip circled the head of his dick and brushed over the slit, earning a gasp from the male. You smirked, the strangled choking sound muffled deep in the back of his throat. He’d smack your ass if he could - the water in the tub doing him no justice - so he opted for a quick prick of fire against your skin.

With a strangled squeal, you lurched forward in his arms, rubbing against him so faintly you had no other choice but to fully stop on his lap and get your momentary fix. He smirked happily, satisfied with his little plan. You rocked your hips just for a moment, his cock nestled so nicely between your legs, brushing against your clit perfectly as you shifted in the water. It slid against your wet cunt perfectly and you could feel your stomach tighten in anticipation.

But with a smack to his chest you lifted, rubbing your pussy for a second before grabbing hold of his dick right at the base. He took a sharp breath through gritted teeth, watchful eyes glazed over in bliss. You worked your hand up and down, palm dragging against the thick vein that ran along the underside of his cock. Your other hand kept you balanced against him, keeping your chests pushed apart so he could watch your breasts bounce as you increased your speed jacking him off.

What started with nothing but a gentle caress, you worked his shaft until you saw his muscles tense and his eyes squeeze shut. You brushed your thumb over the tip of his dick, but before you could coerce him any further, you slowed down your movements.

It was painfully slow, as far as Eris was concerned, so close to just getting off right there in your hand - all gone as you stopped your hand and gripped the base of his dick. “I would have gotten you off after, you know,” he muttered, hands leaving your waist instead finding purchase on either side of the tub, gripping the tub’s rim until his knuckles turned white.

“I know.” You gently kissed his lips, which he felt too angry to return, but in the end he couldn’t refuse. But soon enough you were standing over him, droplets of water falling from every curve and dip of your body. It was moments like that where Eris felt like the luckiest male in the world - to have you all to himself…it almost felt selfish.

But he was a greedy male.

And a confused male, too, as he watched you step out and run a towel over your legs, haphazardly drying yourself enough to slip into the ornate green robe that hung on the wall. You fisted the neck of the wine bottle (Eris never wished he was an inanimate object so badly in his life) and strolled out of the bathroom, offering him a wink. “Come out here,” you’d called from the drawing room.

Eris cursed, pushing himself from the cooling water and creating a bubble of warmth around himself. If he was feeling generous, maybe he’d let you in on his warmth - he knew you had to be freezing in the room with wet hair and barley dry legs. Although he would enjoy watching you shiver, watching your nipples harden as you begged for him to warm you, with his powers or his cock - he’d have to weigh his options.

But as he sauntered into the bedroom, not even bothering to dry himself off, he found you leaning against the back of the couch, robe opened, leaving only the cleavage and a strip of your stomach, all the way down to your cunt, which Eris knew was just begging for him. You gestured to the sofa before you, taking a long sip of wine as the High Lord sat. You planted the bottle in his hand, pulling him backwards, ushering him to lean back against the plush cushion.

With a hearty sigh, he compiled, dropping his head against the back of the couch, letting you run your hands all over his chest. “You need to relax,” you breathed, moving your hands upwards towards his shoulders, kneading away the knots buried deep in his muscles.

His eyes trained carefully upward, he watched your breasts from where you leaned over him. The front of your robe doing nothing to hide anything - he wasn’t sure why you’d even donned it in the first place. He reached his hands up, just grazing the underside of your breasts before you grabbed his hands and placed them back down in his lap. You leaned forward just enough for him to find the perfect open spot to bite the soft flesh, sharp white canines biting into your sensitive breast. He smirked, licking his way over your skin as you straightened, hovering over him once more. “No touching.”

“If you’re going to be doing all this, love, I need a whiskey.”

You smiled down at the High Lord, drawing a hand through his red hair and ruffling it. He watched intently as you crossed the room to the desk, where his liquor was ready and waiting alongside a few empty rock glasses. You offered him the drink as you strolled back to him, trading him for the bottle resting beside his thigh.

With another swig you were back at it, massaging his tender freckled skin. He wanted to pretend he didn’t love it, that he didn’t miss your hands all over him. The High Lord’s meeting that he returned from had really drained him, arguing over policy and having to listen to the useless High Lords brag about their own annoying courts. He wanted nothing more than to come home and have you all over him, doting on his every need, touching him just as you were.

He loosed a sigh, sipping on his whiskey before he set his head back, arms going loose in his lap. With one hand, you took the drink, taking a small sip of the burning liquor before setting it to the side. You continued working out the knots in his shoulders, pressing your fingers into the ridges of his muscles, holding your palm to his hard chest. His rib cage expanded slowly, deflating as your fingertips traced the ridges of his abs, then hitched once more when you traced over the outline of his hip bones.

His hard cock twitched as your finger traced along the underside, stopping just before you could swipe the precum seeping from the tip. He whined, reaching out for your wrist hovering right above his lap. “Please, (Y/N),” he groaned. “Don’t toy with me.”

With a coy smile you rounded the corner of the sofa, dropping before the male, between his parted legs. “Let me have my fun, Eris.” You gazed up at him from under your eyelashes, keeping your brows low to convey the gravity of your plan.

But he leveled your stare, lifting his hand to stroke the side of your face. Warmth leached into your skin, a warning, perhaps. Stop teasing. Eris’s signatured smirk crawled onto those plush lips, as he began fisting his cock in his other hand. “You want to do it yourself?” You whispered, staring at the red tip of his cock, the precum that had been smeared across his entire dick.

He simply shook his head, cupping your jaw, pressing his thumb and fingers against your cheek until your mouth opened in an O. You obliged the male, staring deep into his red eyes as you stuck your tongue out for him.

You swore you could feel your body temperature rise as you watched the shit eating grin sprawl over Eris’s lips. He bit his bottom lip with those perfectly sharp teeth and hissed as he tapped his dick against your wet tongue, slapping the salty tip against your flesh.

You moaned, capturing the tip in your mouth and sucking softly - an act that had the male throwing his head back against the couch. You licked up his dick, leaving a sloppy line of spit falling down to his balls as you dragged your mouth along his cock.

He’d once told you how much he detested masturbating when he’d been called away from the court. It’s not the same - your pretty pussy has spoiled me. It ensured he’d return home from travel pent up and ready to fuck the shit out of you.

But you wanted to take care of him, to have him be the one begging for mercy while you had your way with him. His chest had flushed as his breathing grew shallow, his hand crawling upwards to fist your hair, pulling at it each time your tongue swiped around the head of his cock. “That’s it, (Y/N),” Eris breathed, hips leaving the couch slightly to rut into your mouth. Your thighs squeezed together at his words: the male normally renowned for his hostile demeanor and name calling, with a sweet spot only for you. “Good girl.”

Wait.

He wasn’t supposed to be saying that to you.

You were supposed to be the one dishing out the praise.

While Eris absolutely loved to watch your cheeks flush and cunt tighten around him whenever he offered you praise, there was something about how flustered he got and how desperate the male became when you offered him such affection.

And it was something you were dying to witness.

With a finite pop, you sucked his tip and let it fall from your tongue, meeting the skin of his abdomen with a harsh slap. Eris stifled the shaky breath as he watched you stand.

With not even a second glance, you lifted his nearly empty glass and downed the rest of the whiskey - the last push of liquid confidence to enact the final step of your plan. Your mate watched with nothing more than those drawn brows. He wasn’t sure what had gotten into you - why you’d been pushing everything off, teasing him like so. It wasn’t like you to play such games, and certainly not like him to put up with them.

But you were clearly enjoying yourself, giggling about whatever remaining tricks lied up your sleeve. Eris followed suit, working on the remainder of the wine as he lagged a few steps behind you, watching you like one would a ballet. You strolled to the bed, making a show as you dropped your robe, discarding the glass along the way.

You perched yourself up high on the tall bed, legs spread wide in the manner in which your mate was normally accustomed to. You watched his gaze fall from your eyes to your breasts to your spread cunt, so nicely prepared for the High Lord. “It’s your turn now, my love.”

He smiled, slowing his pace so he could watch the scene unfold before him. “And if I decide to tease you just as you had?”

You ran your hand along the exposed edge of your neck, down between the valley of your breasts, then straight to your cunt. “You won’t.”

Eris cocked a brow, unable to tear his eyes away from you. He smiled at your boldness, though, heart thrumming in his chest - to which he felt warmth down the bond, undoubtedly sent by you. He inched closer, as if stalking a doe, and any movement too loud or too quick would scare you off.

He knelt before you, hands on either of your thighs, spreading you open impossibly farther. From there, he peered up at you, eyes bright with desire, hungry for a taste. Your hand had fallen to his prominent cheekbone, brushing over the thin scar under his eye. “Will you be good for me?” You asked, so quiet you weren’t sure if he had heard you.

But his pointy ears perked, as did his cock, at your gentle tone. Your eyelids nearly shut, watching him drunk with lust, lips parted, begging for a kiss. Eris nodded, a quick up and down, so subtle you would have missed it if not for your hand on his face. “I missed you so much, Eris,” you reminded him, tilting his head up, forcing him to meet your view.

His hands kneaded the flesh of your thighs - gods, he loved touching you. “I missed you, too, (Y/N).” He kissed your calf, working his way up your leg kiss by kiss. Your fingers threaded through his hair, the mess of loose red hair that had been mucked up after the bath. “Missed touching you.” He kissed up your thigh, leaving a warm trail in his wake.

You sighed at the heat. “Will you treat me well, Eris?”

He hummed, low and deep. He sent sparks through the bond, ones that spread from your chest to your spine, from your stomach to your cunt. “Forever, my love.”

“It’s been so long since you’ve touched me.”

His mouth stopped at your pelvis, right where your leg stopped and your pussy began. He smiled, more to himself than you, it had only been three days - four at most. “Let me make it up to you, (Y/N).”

With no further delay, he dove in, starting with a faint kiss to your clit; but the sudden contact had you clutching at his hair. With a few well placed licks, the male began unfolding you.

He ran a wide stripe up your slit with his tongue, tasting everything you had to offer. He worked around your cunt, deciding to trace your opening. His tongue moved in and out, slowly testing the waters. You groaned, missing the attention on your clit and flexed your hips upwards, rocking up and down to fuck yourself on his tongue.

You’d been wet since you’d had the idea to fuck yourself on his dick in the bathtub. But you carried through with your plan, clenching your cunt around absolutely nothing as you touched him, massaged him, sucked his long cock.

Eris’s eyes flitted upwards, watching your chest move with your ragged breaths, and saw how your chest turned pinker the wetter you became. He wound his arms around your thighs, holding you still, nuzzling his face in your pussy. “Please, Eris,” you sighed, pulling at the red stands locked in your fingers. He simply hummed, sending vibrations through your whole body. “Don’t you want to be good for me, my love?”

His cock twitched.

He almost choked out a response, but thought it too terrible to remove himself from you to reply. So instead, he simply adjusted himself, rubbing the tip of his infuriatingly perfect nose against your clit. He continued to press his face against you, slurping at all you had to offer, when you released another strangled cry, laced in nothing but gentleness. “Thank you, Eris.” His name on your lips had him absolutely aching. “Such a good male.”

Gods, had the male been so touch starved, so hungry for praise or even the least bit of acknowledgement his whole life that that got him off? The sweet words on your tongue had him reaching downwards, grasping his throbbing dick.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, watching the male so blissfully at ease pleasing his mate. You noticed his arm shifting, moving up and down as he jerked himself off. It was a sight you normally were desperate to see, but it wasn’t in the plan for your evening. So you pulled yourself away, sliding out of his haphazard one-armed hold, and centered yourself on the large bed. Your legs remained spread as his eyes snapped open, albeit dazed.

“Eris,” you warned, tone low with warning. His red eyes winderned, lips parted in confusion. His arm slowed, eventually stopping as he waited for you to continue. “Come here.”

You moved back a bit more, once he rose to his feet and knelt atop the bed before you. You could make out the glint of precum smeared on his cock and against his abdomen. His dick rocked as he waded across the bed towards you. “Don’t you want to be good for me?” You rested your head against the mountain of pillows, the ones you forbade the staff from changing while he was away - they still smelled of him: cedar and smoke, the fiery bergamot.

He continued until he knelt before you atop the soft mattress, and offered you a nod once you splayed your legs once more. “I’ll be good for you,” he replied, head already sinking lower, offering your clit a wet kiss.

Your eyes nearly rolled back in your head. “Then no touching.” You leaned forward, holding his shoulders until he surrendered his hands up to you, clutching your colder, smaller hands in his. You laid his hands on your breasts, giving the male some reward, in which he thanked you by kneading the soft flesh.

Eris, ever the good soldier, continued on, this time focusing on your clit, lapping at your cunt. “Oh,” you breathed, bucking up against his face. “Good boy, Eris.”

Damn, Eris was at it again, as his cock demanded more attention.

His hips rocked back and forth, his curved cock rubbing against the thick duvet atop the bed. You sat back and watched, your mate desperate for reprieve. His frenzy was contagious, as you wanted nothing more than to have him run his cock over your wet cunt instead of wasting it on the mattress.

Eris’s thumb ran over your pebbled nipple - satisfied with his plan earlier to not share too much warmth with you. But you were burning up, writhing in his arms as his tongue flitted back and forth across your clit, sparingly licking across the hole below, just to mix his spit into your pussy - gods, he wished it were his cum instead.

But you watched as he continued to get himself off, mesmerized by the curve of his strong back and his taught waist, the way his ass flexed and cock dragged against the expensive blanket. You hummed, earning the attention of the depraved male. He kept his face buried in the apex of your thighs, hands clinging for dear life on your chest, as his red eyes darted upward. “No, no, baby.” You traced over his knuckles, then his flexing forearms, down his bulging biceps, across his shoulders, and up to the arch of his brow.

He stuttered and slowed his movements. “Sorry, my love,” he mumbled, placing a thousand kisses around your pelvis and across your lips. “It hurts,” he added, eyes pleading at you, peering just over your mound and stomach. He added one more rut for good measure, shifting the comforter below him.

You hummed, taking his hands in yours and sitting up completely. Eris rose to his knees, towering over you, now on the same playing field as you. You tilted your head upward, neck craned back, and pursed your lips. His hands flew to your cheeks, holding you still as he smashed his lips to yours, kissing you like it’d be the last time. He tasted salty and sweet, he moaned at the thought of you tasting yourself on him.

Your hands went to his chest, letting him only kiss you for a few moments, before you sat back and held your hand out over the bed. He laid on his back, legs splayed, hands open and waiting for you to climb into his lap. You tisked, throwing your leg over his chest. “I said no touching, right, my love?” The male bit his lip, nodding. You took his open hands, holding them above his head, pinning them to the mattress.

You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol that had him flushed, but the male was eager to please. You climbed over him, holding yourself just over his mouth. Eris, despite how much more physical he usually was with you, loved when you rode his face.

Absolutely could not get enough of it.

He met your clit immediately, licking softly, easing you back into it. Long, slow licks had you sinking on your knees, falling more and more, until you were no longer hovering, but seated on your male’s face. He sighed a breath of relief, purely blissed out. He only flexed a few times, forgetting that you restrained his arms with yours, but falling back against the bed quickly each time you murmured a soft, that’s it baby, or, his new personal favorite, good boy.

He was so much stronger than you, so powerful after years of training - a battle hardened soldier and High Lord. You’d seen the strength first hand, when he held you high up, fucking you in the air, chest-to-chest with your mate; he’d flipped this position plenty of times before, so you knew he was really playing into it - not halting and taking control, but letting you have your way with him.

He was a male so beaten and broken, all he needed was a little praise.

And by the god’s you’d give it to him.

“Oh my love,” you cried out, leaning over him and pressing your cunt to his mouth. “Yes, Eris.” You called his name like a prayer, calling out for release as he ate your pussy like it was his only salvation.

You’d cum seeing stars, accompanied by the continuation of Eris’s assault on your sensitive clit. His cheeks had to have been hollow, jaw aching as he didn’t stop, licking up everything you offered him.

Your thighs shook, barely able to keep yourself up. The male was not complaining, clutching your hands in his as you leaned your weight mostly on to his caged arms. Your hips rocked at each lick, unsure if your body would even allow for the continuation of the charge, as Eris surely showed no signs of stopping. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, Eris. God’s yes.”

He moaned, hips lifting slightly, cock bouncing against his abdomen. You extended a hand backwards, running your fingers delicately over the underside of his dick. A featherlight touch that had him lifting his hips higher, desperate for any friction your hand would offer him. “Please, please, (Y/N),” he moaned, biceps flexing and hips moving.

You took a shaky breath and wrapped your fist around his cock, moving up and down slowly. “Good job, baby. That’s it, my love.” His tongue jutted in and out of you, relishing in the delicious taste of your cunt, and the delectable feeling of your hand on his aching dick.

He moved faster, hips rocking so much you weren’t even moving your hand, just allowing him to please himself as he wished. “You want to be a good boy?” You whispered, threading your free handed fingers through his hair. Eris groaned, humming in affirmation, as his hands flew up to your thighs, holding onto you for dear life. He nodded vigorously, barely comprehending what you’d asked, caught up in the feeling of your hand on him. His precum had been seeping, begging for release, and had been smeared all over his cock, wet sounds echoed off the walls of the bedroom, spurring on his tongue as he continued fucking it in and out of you. “Then stop humping my hand.”

“It’s aching, (Y/N),” his voice cracked. You could have sworn you saw tears in his eyes as you looked down at him, still buried between your legs.

“Then I’ll kiss it better,” you offered, posing yourself on your knees. He was reluctant to let go of your thighs. Perhaps he thought it was a trick, that you’d just edge him again, leaving him with balls bluer than the oceans of the Summer Court. “I promise I’ll make you feel better, my love.”

You shifted, kneeling beside him as you watched him pull himself up on the bed. Eris nearly winced when you’d returned your hand on his dick, thumb brushing just under the aching head, somehow more precum leaked out. Instead of using your fingers to swipe it over his shaft, like you had so many times before, you licked it up, the wide base of your tongue wiping the slit clean.

Eris released a strangled cry. You felt his cock throb in your hand - you weren’t sure how long he’d last. “Please, (Y/N). I’ve been so good,” he whined, staring at you with crossed brows, pleading for more, more, more.

“You have been good, baby,” you replied, fisting his cock faster. “So good - what do you need, my love? You need my pussy?”

He nodded, biting his bottom lip so hard you were sure he’d summon blood.

“You want me to ride you, baby?”

His fists gripped the sheets and eyes screwed shut; his muscled flexed with restraint. You thought it would be too mean to stop rubbing your fist up and down his cock, but as he vigorously nodded, you had no other choice.

“You did so well for me, my love.” You paused only for a moment, swinging your leg over his lap and holding his cock up against your tight hole.

He nearly came as you sat down, both of you sighed out in bliss as he entered you, and you found yourself fully seated on your mate’s cock. You moved up and down, relishing in the feeling of his long cock hitting deep inside of you, spreading you open perfectly. Your clit brushed against the fine hairs above his cock, earning a wince from you and your overstimulated cunt. Eris’s breathing had run ragged, unable to wait any longer for release.

His hands found gripped your hips, fingertips dug deep into your sides as he lifted you up and down, bouncing you on his cock. You clenched around him - fire ran hot through his blood, and his dick warmed you in such a way that you’d felt cold and empty without him. “Yes, Eris, please, please - so good - ” You were choking on your own words, your legs shaking, you couldn’t even move yourself if you’d tried.

But Eris, clearly unable to hold himself back any longer, clearly didn’t mind, as he fucked up into you with seemingly no avail. Your hands and arms wobbled as you braced yourself on his tensed chest, trying to give yourself some leverage - distance from his skin slapping your own raw.

“That’s it Eris - ” Your thighs came together, cunt clenched around him like a vice as you squeezed your eyes shut and saw nothing but bright light. Your mate didn’t stop, rutting into you like the unfinished male he found himself to be.

“Fuck,” you’d cursed, barely able to open your eyes before Eris flipped you, throwing your back against the mattress and pounding into you. You couldn’t convince yourself to be mad about it. He was a strong male, afterall - impossible to be tamed.

His hand raked down your slide, you swore he’d lit you on fire. His touch left an inferno in his wake, sliding down from your side all the way to your ass and thigh, hitching your leg up behind his back.

Eris fell to his knees, hovering over you, slamming his cock in and out of you, crying out to the mother for release. No - not to the mother. To you.

“Please, (Y/N).” His breathing was unsteady, voice like gravel as he cried out to you. Despite the fact your game had ended, he grunted, waiting for your response - not faltering in his movements for a moment. “Please, please, please - ”

“Yes,” you gasped, hands winding around his neck, curling your arms around him. “Come for me, my love.” His forehead was pressed against your sweaty chest, eyes squeezed shut as his hips stuttered. He met your cunt to the hilt, fully seated inside of you as his come shot out in thick ropes, coating you entirely.

He rocked into you, arms winding between your back and the mattress as he held you impossibly closer. He picked up his forehead only to drop it against yours. Gods, he was burning up. The both of you shared come and sweat, melded into one Fae, as mates and more.

He caught your lips with his, the softest of kisses - he didn’t move, didn’t prod with his tongue, no teeth and no biting. He took a deep breath, committing your sensual scent to memory, as he stilled inside of you.

Eris couldn’t have been more relieved - more satiated.

He looked like he could pass out at any moment. You brushed his red hair back, away from where it had fallen over his brow, and tucked the loose strands behind his ears. He pulled his head away, not without dragging a trail of kisses lazily across your jaw and cheek. His head fell against the mattress, and Eris awkwardly leaned on the plush sheets. Your legs were still a tangled mess, his cock still buried deep inside of you.

You stared into his tired eyes, an embarrassed blush crawling up your cheeks. Your hand fell to his cheek and you caressed his smooth skin until a small smile laced his lips. “You’re such a good male.” Thanks for playing.

He let his head rest fully to the side as his eyes met yours. “That’s why I made you my High Lady.”

#eris vanserra #eris #eris acotar #eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris x you #eris vanserra x you #eris/you #eris/reader #eris vanserra/reader #eris vanserra/you #fanfiction #acotar fanfic

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browneyedgirly93 · 1 year

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K like Eris with a reader who’s like rlly into cute things and loves his dogs

Apparently cute things evolved into thoughtful gifts for Eris haha I hope you enjoy my first one-shot fluffy Eris x Reader fic :) I have a long-form multi-part Eris Fic coming soon!

Gifts

Eris x Reader

Summary: Eris finds his mate sitting on the floor surrounded by their dogs she has been waiting for him to finish work so she can give him a few gifts. Warnings: None, just fluff

Word Count: 918

I am sitting on the floor surrounded by thirteen dogs, the smallest of the bunch Flint is in my lap jumping up and trying to give me kisses. Eris had gotten me a puppy for our 5-year anniversary and I adored the little guy. The other dogs were laying around me watching as I played with the pup. The hounds were always watching over me when Eris wasn’t around. I heard the door opening and looked up to see the love of my life leaning against the door frame smirking at me.

“My love, why were you sitting on the floor?” he said stepping into the room eyes never leaving me, a few of the dogs got up to go and sniff their master his hands mindlessly patting them on the heads.

“Giving the dogs the attention they deserve” I state matter-of-factly, he chuckles and watches me for a few minutes.

“Will I also be getting the attention I deserve?” he winks at me.

“Always” I say knowing exactly what I have planned for tonight. I place Flint on the floor and push myself up and nearly trip over 3 different dogs, Eris is instantly beside me gripping my waist to keep me steady. I wrap my arms around him and snuggle into his chest. “How was your day?”

“Boring, as usual. How was yours?” he said simply pressing a kiss to the crown of my head.

“I went shopping today and got you a few things” I smiled proudly stepping away from him.

“My love you did not have to do that” he said, but I could tell he was excited. He loves it when I bring home surprise gifts for him, he’d never admit it but he enjoys being spoiled. Standing up on my tiptoes I lean in pressing a soft kiss to his lips before disappearing into our bedroom to grab the items. I return to find him sitting in front of the fire with his legs resting on the low-lying table. Settling down beside him on the brown leather couch, I sit facing him I want to be able to watch his reactions to my gifts. “I called to have tea delivered” he smiles at me placing his hand on my leg. Returning his smile while handing him the first gift, it was a brown leather-bound journal with gold-gilded edges.

“I figured you’d be needing a new one soon and I got myself a matching one” I smile placing a second one on the table. “Thank you” he chuckles leaning over to place a kiss on my cheek, a knock sounds from the doorway. “Come in” he calls out, as our main servant Florence enters the room with a large platter containing a teapot, two matching tea cups and a plate overflowing with Eris’s favourite cinnamon apple biscuits. She brings it over towards the table and places it gently before us.

“Will there be anything else my lord and lady?” Florence said bowing to us.

“That’ll be all for now. Thank you, Florence” I respond smiling at her, she bows again exiting the room. Eris leans forward pouring us each a cup of tea and grabbing a biscuit. “I guess you won’t be wanting your second gift then.”

“Who said I didn’t” he smirks in between bites of his biscuit. I grab the second gift, it was a metal tin containing our favourite maple candies. His eyes went wide as he grabs the tin from my hand, pulling the lid off and popping a piece of candy into his mouth.

“They’ve been sold out everywhere, how’d you get them?” he mumbles around the candy.

“I’ll never tell” I smirk at him taking a sip of my tea and returning it to the table. “Just one gift left to go.” Putting down the candy jar and focusing all his attention on me I hand him a small white gift box with a large red bow tied around it. “Now technically this is a gift for both of us.” I blush and he eyes me suspiciously, he begins to lightly shake.

“Is that so?” smirking at me like he already knew what was inside the box. He slowly begins untying the bow I felt the heat blooming in my stomach, his eyes lifting to mine as he scents my arousal. Removing the lid he looks into the box to be greeted by a deep red set of lingerie. “I require a fashion show Pet” he demands eyes darkening as he hands me the garment, blushing at the use of the nickname that was saved for the bedroom.

“Anything for you my High Lord” I say in the most sultry voice I can muster, snatching the garment. I walk through the bedroom into the bathing chamber changing into the nearly non-existent fabric and stepping out of the room to find Eris already waiting on the bed. He looks me up and down with such intensity.

“Utterly breathtaking” he says in a husky voice standing up and striding towards me. He grabs my hips pulling me into a passionate kiss. He pulls away and steps back to look at me again. “Thank you for my gifts Pet, now let me give you a gift.” He purrs as he lifts me up I wrap my legs around his waist, resuming our kiss. Suddenly I am on my back on the bed with his prowling over me, the look in his eye told me I was in a long night.

#eris x reader #eris vanserra x reader #eris/reader #eris #erisvanserra #acotar #autumncourt #autumnslittlefox

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saphirered · 2 years

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Tempest Chapter 3: Whisper (Eris x Reader)

Another part of this story since you folks liked it. You can find part 1 and part 2 here. Let me know what you think of this one! Hope you enjoy! 😘

Summary: After failure of his brothers Eris is sent to collect a tithe from what he expects to be some village rat. Instead he meets an enigma and there’s much more to you than meets the eye. You play the same game he plays and he may yet have use for you in his plots against his father. Will he be able to turn you into a pawn or will you be his undoing?

The day is quiet, eerily so. Something feels off. It’s in the air, the ground, the chirping birds, the people. The heir of Autumn has noticed; that ever present chill down the spine. His father’s noticed. As predicted his father is more on edge. It’s honestly surprising the court has not seen a public whipping yet for a servant putting the teaspoon on the wrong side of the cup, or set out three cubes of sugar instead of two, or staring just a second too long at the High Lord. Eris has made it a point to avoid his father, has made sure his mother had an excuse to leave the Forest House until this passes, and even found it within himself to warn his brothers of Beron’s foul mood. Some were more thankful for his warning than others. He saw it in their eyes; a moment of weakness? You’d warned him to not extend courtesy to those who would not so freely offer it in return and benefit from his misfortune. You’d been right of course, but you had also told him that’s easier said than done. Unlike you, he still cares for the family he comes from, even if they’d skin him alive if it assured them a throne.

No matter what Eris does, his mind veers back to you. He had no trouble forgetting your existence beyond your regularly scheduled teatimes and through habit he’s been considering your wisdoms, which admittedly have proven quite useful, but this is different. It’s like his mind is occupied, trying to tell him something he can’t quite place. Why you? Why does he think about you with every step he takes? Why do the flames under the surface of his skin call to you, respond to you? Why today? It’s every bit as frustrating as it is annoying him. Can he not be left to his own devices? How long before he’ll cave and give into these senses? How long before he gets over his pride and goes to check on you to see if you have an explanation for this because he needs to get on with his day and not be in the mental grasp of some forest witch.

“Milord.” There’s a knock to the door of his study before it carefully opens and a servant peaks in. He beckons them in without as much of a glance up from the papers in front of him, though he has not gotten past the first page in an hour’s time and finds his fingers drumming against the wood of the desk he sits at. “The High Lord summons you, milord.” Eyes remain cast down at the floor. The servant doesn’t step into the room and remains at the door, shoulders tense, as if frightened for the burn of disruption when Eris sighs displeased.

“Tell my father I will be with him in but a moment.” Eris hopes for a moment of peace but knows his father is as lenient as he is patient.

“The High Lord requests your immediate presence I’m afraid. He said he would refuse to be kept waiting, milord.” Eris bites his tongue. Of course the bastard would demand left and right and were he in a particular mood to deal with the fallout of such disobedience, he might have entertained the thought but something whispers upon the wind, beckoning him to follow the path set out before him, and so he finds himself at the mercy of his own curiosity, of his own whims. Eris wouldn’t count himself a creature of impulse but the whisper is as charming as it is reassuring, yet never demanding. His father could learn a lesson or two from that whisper upon the wind. So he dismisses the servant, who scurries off fast with a brief bow as is to be expected and Eris readies himself to meet the male he calls father. What he wouldn’t do to have you at his side, to confront his father, and watch your eternal eyes stare right through Beron even if only to see you exert the same presence you do naturally, see if it would unnerve his father just as much as it had done the tithe collectors, his brothers, the people of your village and even him at times, though that feeling has changed over your meetings through the last year. Even still, you unnerve him.

And so with you on his mind Eris finds himself in his father’s favourite chamber in the Forest House; the throne room where he sits high and mighty, fiddling with an oversized precious gem, allowing the flames in his remaining hand to reflect upon the fine cut and shine out sparks of golden orange when the light catches it just right. Eris is quiet when he approaches and remembers; keep your head low, but eyes never off those you call threat. Play obedient servant but never submissive. Play the perfect son, the perfect heir. Show his father what he’s worth.

“Your little village rat has not paid their tithe. Again.” Eris would say he’s surprised but he’s not, given your opinions on the High Lord. Though, you had said you would pay your part to avoid trouble. He’d have a word with you next time. Especially since he had warned you. You haven’t been one to refuse his council and stated for yourself you value it. So what changed?

“I will see to it the right forces are sent to deal with this disobedience immediately and enact a proper punishment on your behalf if it pleases you, father.” He stands within the spot he has stood so often for better or worse. He recalls the praises he’s received right here, and how he’s gotten the perfect view of his brothers’ disgruntled faces at his success and their failure. He also recalls the punishments he’s faced at the hand of his father, or whoever the bastard might have enlisted to do so on his behalf, sometimes it would be his brothers, sometimes they’d take pleasure in making him bleed until he screamed, or collapsed from the physical trauma. Though he bears many scars, he can point out exactly which ones he’s endured by the hands of those he shares blood with. Right now, in this moment Eris is unsure wether he should be fearing the strike of a whip, the burn of a flame, at any moment, or will be bestowed rewards by the male in front of him. It’s a fine line and while he knows how to read the signs, his father’s temper stands on a knife’s edge.

“You have grown slow, my son. Did your brothers not tell you of their failure? I suppose they must be ashamed. I thought you more resourceful, clever. I expected better from you.” Would he have held any love for his father, those words might have hurt, but he’s grown desensitised to those kind of remarks, he knows very well the game his father is playing. Yet still within him Eris feels the need to look for approval, he still seeks to please this horrid male. You told him he did because he was lacking any kind of reassurance he could value, or trust, and so the illusion of approval from someone who could never truly give it, would suffice. He called you ridiculous. You were right either way. Yet again his mind is pushed towards you and the whisper upon the wind breathes in relief before it disappears.

“Nevermind my disappointment. You may right your shortcomings by reminding your siblings of their own by bringing before me the culprit of rebellion so I might hear the reasons for their disobedience myself and see to a proper punishment for these crimes.” Eris’ heart sinks, his throat tightens and it takes every bit of power within him to not snap his gaze up to his father or speak against this order, question it verbally. He must remain the obedient son, the loyal heir. He must. You’ve told him he should not argue with his father, not yet at least. He still has work to do, establish himself before he can when the situation is not already twisted to his hand. Right now your existence, or rather the connection you two share, is unknown to Beron and revealing his hand too soon, might do more harm than good, even if that feeling in his gut says to spare you the wrath of the High Lord and keep you out of reach of his flames, even if at his own behest, but you told him not to compromise, to not sacrifice unnecessarily. Were this about anyone else he knows he would not have thought twice about throwing you at Beron’s feet. Were the roles reversed, he has little doubt you’d not have thrown him under the carriage. So he argues you are too valuable an asset for him to lose, but he knows in truth, he might be more reliant on you than he’d like to admit.

“Of course, father. Thank you for this opportunity. I will see to it at once. Failure will not be an option. You will not be disappointed.” He dares rise to his full height, chin up, shoulders squared. Eris meets his father’s gaze. Like a viper ready to strike the High Lord’s eyes bore into him, and then when he fears he might have pushed too soon and will feel the burning flames, instead he sees a glint of approval. He sees a glint of pride because the first son shows this is where he belongs; above everyone else, except his father. Beron dismisses him without a word, and only a lazy wave of his hand returning to his obsession with the precious gem he holds. Eris wonders what he might see in its reflections, or if perhaps it is cursed to pull his father’s focus so but he knows better and so he simply takes two steps backwards, bows and turns on his heels. Time to go back to that dreaded cottage at the edge of the forest on top of the hill overlooking that horrid village, and precious fields of flourishing crops.

Before he leaves Eris finds whichever of his siblings he crosses paths with, and assures his status, reminds them why he is the first son, the heir and he is not to be underestimated. He reminds them they should have informed him of their failures because it is his birthright to know, they answer to him and they will suffer the consequences for their disobedience, ignorance and attempted betrayal, after he returns successful from this venture once more. Some are more stubborn and dare talk back. They are reminded of what flames he wields. The others have learned their lessons time and time again and simply grimace and nod. It pains Eris to see what they have become, what he has become. Their father has pitted them against each other. They’d do whatever it takes to be rid of him, and their remaining siblings, if only they’d get that throne of their father, or his approval for that matter. The only reason they haven’t is simply because they can’t. They tried in the past. They’d failed too. It did not take much to show them why they should not so blatantly try to rid themselves of him, or each other.

A High Lord makes a poor one when the title is earned through process of elimination. Nevermind gaining the acceptance of the court would be an entirely different thing. How long will it take before the people revolt against a male who’s earned a throne through bloodshed and knows little of the political intrigues, knows not how to rule or play the games of the court? They are not prepared to be questioned at every decision. They are not prepared to face those who would take their riches, their power for themselves over the back of a fledgling High Lord. He is. Eris knows how to play these games. He’s prepared. He’s been taking the steps to assure his position, his survival, his future and the future of this court. He has done so from the shadows, and while these are but the beginnings, he plays the game well. It might still take centuries but his plans are set in motion, and failure is not an option. He knows this ends with only one victor and that means either he ends six feet under, or his father does. So for now he operates in the dark, behind the backs of others, and makes the sacrifices he needs to make. For his people. For his family.

Despite everything he still cares for his family. The families of High Lords rarely make for perfectly stable homes, or happy lives. One could say it is tradition and few break the mould. The Vanserras are no exception. His brothers were brought up with a hand that would squeeze the life from them if they did not show their teeth. Once happy children suffered abuse at ever corner, every time they did not live up to the expectations set out before them. A crying child is a weak one and becomes an even weaker adult. One who is coddled, is vulnerable, and thus a liability. One who chooses love over responsibility must be reminded how easily such a thing is torn away and leaves one broken. Beg not for mercy for you shall receive none. Face pain and suffering until tears flow no more. Reach not for the hand that feeds when starving, but choose survival. Be not a liability through emotion and attachment. Be alone, share not your power and remind those who would think themselves above you, they are but dirt under your boot and live only by your grace. Those are the lessons his father taught them from a young age. The worst of his brothers took those words for gospel. The others simply accepted this way of life for survival. If their mother could endure the High Lord’s wrath like she did, then so could they. They may have come to her for kindness, and tending to their wounds but with time they chose their own directions, they choose hardships over the love their mother offered. Some might still come find it in rare occasions when no one was looking, but others had hardly looked at her with the softness they showed when they were children.

Eris does not want to see his brothers dead but he acknowledges the harsh reality that if it comes to their lives or his, he has made his peace with the fact he will choose himself. He had struggled with this for decades but not anymore. The mask of pretending to be the perfect son, to live up to everything his father set them out to be, blurred the line between who he was and who he’s supposed to be. Where he might show the enjoyment of cruelty at those who deserve supposed punishment, internally he still felt remorse, or cringed at the pleads for mercy. That line has blurred too. He finds himself indifferent, desensitised. He’s lead many to the gallows, be that for the breaking of laws, their betrayal or other reasons, but plenty of them he’s lead there to save his own hide, or to obey his father’s command. It scares him that the guilt for those deeds has begun to ebb away slowly and only a righteousness is left. It scares him that he sees within him the signs of his father and he fears those horrid traits might one day consume him. Especially while he remains alone, without respite. He wakes up. He puts on the mask. He plays his part. He retires. And repeat the same cycle over again. Does he even take the mask off at night anymore? He doesn’t know.

“Eris.” A whisper upon the wind, calls his name. The voice sounds familiar. It’s beckoning him, shows him a vision of the cottage overlooking the fields. You never call him by his first name. It’s always been ‘Vanserra’, ‘little lord’ or ‘lordling’ at best. Something is wrong. That feeling he woke up with, returns in full and makes him feel nauseous. He feels the fire beneath his skin burst alight, warming up his body, like a spark lights a flame, like a burning pyre. Something is wrong and so he is off to that dreaded cottage overlooking the village from the top of the hill at the edge of the quiet forest.

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hauntedwitch04 · 8 months

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KINKTOBER

Hi! Here is my kinktober masterlist, it's my first time trying to do this trend, so I hope you like my writing. I'll later post a question for you all to anwer, to see who you want the last one about. Hope you like it. I'll try my best <;33

Requests are open I Ask

My masterlist

Join the Taglist

Buy me a coffee - Patreon submission

SPECIAL KINKTOBER TAGLIST

Hate sex with Regulus Black

Dirty talk with Dean Winchester

Sex pollen with Azriel

Daddy kink with Steve Harrington

Body worship with Rhysand

Size kink with Sam Winchester

Orgasm denial with James Potter

Public sex with Nyx Acheron

Somnophilia with Regulus Black

Thigh-riding with Cassian

Breeding with Remus Lupin

Tit-fucking with Dean Winchester

Caught masturbation with Steve Harrington

Innocent with Remus Lupin

Brat taming with Eris Vanserra

Toys with Sirius Black

Mommy kink with Nesta Acheron

Lingerie with Rhysand

Overstimulation with James Potter

Face sitting with Sam Winchester

Praise kink with Sirius Black

Corruption with Priest!Sam Winchester

Shadow play with Azriel

Spanking with Remus Lupin

Car sex with Dean Winchester

Threesome with Nesta Acheron and Cassian

Omegaverse with Dean Winchester

Cockwarming with Eris Vanserra

Phone sex with Sam Winchester

Bondage with Azriel

Roleplay with REGULUS BLACK (chosen by you)

#hauntedwitch04's writing #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #rhysand x reader #nyx acheron x reader #cassian x reader #eris x reader #marauders x reader #remus lupin x reader #sirius black x reader #james potter x you #regulus black x reader #supernatural x reader #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x reader #kinktober 2023 #imagine acotar #dean winchester x reader #sam winchester x reader

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serpentandlily · 5 months

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Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny - Eris x Reader

Sly Fox, Dumb Bunny - Eris x Archeron!Reader

Summary: You find yourself ensnared by a sly, cunning fox. A very handsome, irritating one.

Warnings: use of the nickname bunny

Based on THIS request.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

Gods, you were going to be in so much trouble. You kept your fast pace as you walked through the woods, keeping your eye out for anything, anything, that might help you. The only reason you even knew where you were was the red and golden leaves adorning the trees, the scent of cinnamon and rain hanging in the crisp air. Autumn. You were in the Autumn Court.

You had just been practicing winnowing with Rhys, your brother-in-law. Since the war ended, the Inner Circle was finally spending more time helping you learn your magic. You had wanted to learn, to do more, ever since you had been turned fae, tossed in the cauldron like your sisters.

But being the youngest meant also having to take a back seat sometimes. Feyre and Nesta never let you do anything. Never let you help in any way. Not much changed after you had been turned fae.

The sound of dogs howling made you pause in your tracks. You stood frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do. They could be farm dogs, it could mean that someone was nearby, someone who could help you.

But you knew of the type of fae in the Autumn Court and it could also be someone who’d try to hurt you. You bit your lip, finally deciding to make a run for it as the howling got closer.

You took off down a line of trees, pushing yourself to run as fast as you could to create some distance between you and the pack of dogs. But a few stumbles over fallen branches and you could hear the pounding of their paws not far behind you.

A bark had you looking over your shoulder, cursing as you saw the hounds close behind. They yelped with excitement as they caught sight of you, picking up their pace.

Pain, awful, debilitating pain, rushed through your leg and you screamed, falling to the ground. You flipped yourself over to see your foot stuck in the claws of a bear trap, the metal prongs piercing through your skin. You cursed as you realized they must’ve been herding you here.

You let out another cry as you forced yourself to sit up and scoot closer to the trap. The dogs were still running at you and you desperately tried to yank the trap apart, to free your foot.

It was no use; the dogs were too fast. Faster than any dogs you’d ever encountered. You could do nothing but throw your arms over your face and scream, hoping someone would hear you before you were mauled to death by a pack of dogs.

To your utter shock, the feeling of teeth ripping into your flesh never came. You slowly put your arms down to see twelve hounds running in a circle around you, yapping and howling into the air. Each one gray and sleek like smoke.

Footsteps coming from behind you had you whipping around, eyes wide. Your breath caught in your throat at the sight of a male. A very handsome male with silky red hair, whiskey amber eyes, and pale skin. He was tall, lithe, but he had the top three buttons of his shirt undone, giving you a glimpse of the muscles beneath.

The cobalt coat he wore was finely crafted, along with his pants and shoes. The haughty expression on his face told you exactly who you were looking at—Eris, the Heir of Autumn.

You swallowed audibly as he smirked down at you, coming to a halt a few paces away.

“Well what do we have here?” His voice was smooth like silk and it sent a shiver down your spine.

You said nothing as he let out a sharp whistle and the hounds circling you halted before running to his side. They sat behind him like perfect little guards, their unusual eyes still on you. You looked back up at the male, who had just stumbled upon you, trapped. He walked around your form, much like his hounds had been doing.

You couldn’t find any words. Mostly because of the pain of the bear trap ripping through your shin and foot. But also because you had only really ever heard horror stories about Eris—about his cruelty and cunning nature.

Eris’s fox-like face smirked down at you in amusement. “My hounds seem to have herded a little bunny into one of my traps. Do you have a name, bunny?”

Should you tell him who you were? That you were one of the Archeron sisters, that you were from the Night Court? You knew briefly through listening in on Feyre’s conversations that they considered Eris an ally. But they also said he could hardly be trusted.

“Does the little bunny not have a voice?” Eris purred, still circling around you like a predator playing with its food. “Hm, let me guess. The golden brown hair and the big, brown doe eyes that look incredibly similar to my brother’s mate’s…Have I trapped an Archeron?”

You used the sleeve of your dress to wipe at the tear tracks on your cheeks. You tried to back away from him, but the movement only jostled your leg, causing a small whimper to escape your throat.

“I-I’m not sure how I ended up here, my Lord,” you mumbled. Gods, you felt pathetic. “Can you p-please help me?”

Eris tilted his head at you, in an animalistic way you still weren’t used to with the fae. He studied you for a moment before another smirk bloomed on his handsome fox-like face. He was picturesque with his disarming beauty.

“You see, I think this is all a bit unfair. You seem to know who I am, but you still haven’t told me your name, little bunny.” He knelt down next to you, reaching a gloved hand out to push some of your hair from your face.

It should’ve alarmed you, his closeness, the touch of his hand. But for some reason, it didn’t. You swallowed again, considering your options. Maybe he would help you get home.

“I’m one of Feyre’s sisters,” you managed to stutter out.

“Is that so?” He seemed to be enjoying this. “And what is the name of the bunny I’ve managed to trap?”

You mumbled your name out loud, glancing around the meadow you were in, at the hounds that were now all laying down, still staring at you. You blinked at them and the biggest one, the leader of the pack, stood suddenly. You kept your eyes trained on her as she marched over to you, shaking as you examined her large head, her jaw that could easily rip your throat out.

But to your surprise, she merely meandered over to you and brushed her head against yours, letting out a low whine. Your eyes widened, looking over at Eris for a second to see a flicker of shock cross his face. The hound let out a small yip before licking the side of your face, drawing out a surprised giggle from you. Was she trying to…comfort you?

“Ashera,” Eris said sternly with a snap of the fingers. But the hound merely glanced at him and then went back to nudging you with her fluffy head.

You raised a shaky hand and stroked her back, bewildered by the dog's behavior. She licked you up the side of your face again and Eris said her name a little louder this time, making her ears twitch. She whined at him but listened, going back to the other dogs.

“I didn’t know there was a fourth Archeron sister. Where have they been hiding you?” Eris asked, drawing your attention back to him. “And why?”

You shrugged your shoulders. Had they been hiding you? No one has ever mentioned keeping you a secret. “I-I don’t know.”

He waved a hand in the air, summoning a piece of parchment and pen. He quickly scribbled something on it before flicking it away. You watched it disappear with awe, still taken aback by the use of magic.

Eris seemed to remember you were still stuck. He let out a sigh and placed his hands on both sides of the trap. He paused to look at you. “Sorry, little bunny, but this is going to hurt.”

And then he pulled the trap apart with his bare hands. You let out a loud cry as the metal spikes were pulled out of your leg. You whimpered, pulling your knee to your chest as you examined the damage to your shin.

Blood was now gushing from the wounds that circled around your shin. You grabbed some of your skirt in your hand, intending to use it to put pressure on the wounds but Eris’s hand shot out and grabbed your wrist.

“Don’t do that,” he hissed. “Are you dumb? Your skirt is covered in dirt and mud. You’ll only infect it.”

Your cheeks turned red with embarrassment. He reached a hand towards you but now free from the trap, you scrambled away from him with a whimper. He let out an amused chuckle.

“No need to be frightened, little bunny,” he purred. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You looked at him warily as he pulled a handkerchief from his pocket, dangling it in the air between the two of you. You swallowed audibly but didn’t move as he approached again and wrapped it around your ankle as a makeshift gauze.

He hummed, standing up and brushing invisible dirt from his pants. “Now, are you going to tell me why exactly an Archeron is in my court?”

“I was learning how to winnow. I-I don’t know how I ended up here. One minute I was in Velaris and then next, I was here.”

He clicked his tongue, crossing his arms over his broad chest. “Interesting. Well, come on. Let’s get to Spring so someone can come retrieve you before you get yourself killed.”

Eris held at his gloved hand to you. You took it, letting him help you rise from the ground, trying to keep weight off your injured ankle. As soon as you were up, he winnowed the two of you away.

A moment later, you appeared on the border of Autumn and Spring. You would’ve fallen over if it wasn’t for Eris grabbing you by the upper arm. You blushed, muttering a small thank you.

“I’m afraid we’re going to have to walk the rest of the way so we don’t set off any wards that will alert my father,” Eris said, coolly.

He set off and you trailed after him, hobbling slowly because of your injury. You only made it a few paces before Eris turned around.

“Hurry it up, bunny, I don’t have all day.”

Your eyes narrowed at him. “Sorry, it’s a little hard to walk considering my foot was just in a bear trap.”

Eris tsked, looking down at your ankle before his eyes trailed up your form. He let out a sigh and strided back to you. Before you could even figure out what he was doing, he grabbed you by the waist and tossed you over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes.

You squeaked in surprise. “What are you doing?! Put me down!”

“Like I said, I don’t have all day,” Eris said, stalking off towards the border to Spring. You jostled on his shoulder with each step he took but he held you firmly with an arm around your thighs like you weighed absolutely nothing.

You pounded on his back with your fists. “Ugh, Let me down!”

“You even hit with the strength of a rabbit,” Eris laughed to himself, ignoring your attempts to free yourself from his hold.

“Jerk,” you scoffed, crossing your arms as you dangled there.

Eris just laughed again. You bickered with him all the way to a clearing where he finally came to a stop and put you down. You huffed, smoothing down your dress and hair as you glared up at him.

“You’re welcome,” he purred with an arrogant smile.

The shadows around the clearing seemed to move in a flurry and then a familiar face stepped out of the darkness.

“Get away from her,” Azriel growled at Eris.

Eris held his hands up, that smile never leaving his face as Azriel stalked towards you. His eyes narrowed as he sniffed, smelling the blood on you.

“Did he hurt you?” Azriel asked, his tone dark. He grabbed you by the arm and yanked you to his side, causing you to stumble.

Before you could even open your mouth, Eris cut in.

“Must you have such a low opinion of me, shadowsinger.” Eris wore that fox-like grin again. “I haven’t harmed a single hair on her head.”

Azriel looked to you, waiting for you to verify his story.

“He speaks the truth, Azriel,” you said, clutching your ankle. “I ran into a bear trap on my own. He helped me out of it and brought me here.”

“And why were you running?” Azriel tossed Eris a glare.

“His d-dogs scared me. But they’re friendly,” you replied, trying to ease the tension in the air.

Eris scoffed, as if no one had ever referred to his hounds as friendly before.

Azriel looked at you with exasperation. “Come on, let’s get you home. No need to linger here.” He glared at Eris one last time.

Before you could protest, he hoisted you up into his arms. You glanced at Eris one last time to see a moment of shock cross his face as he met your gaze.

“Thank you,” you called out as you gave him a small wave before you were swept away in the shadows.

· · ─────── ·♡· ─────── · ·

You didn’t see Eris again for months. Not until Winter Solstice, when it had been decided that Nesta would try to intrigue him enough to keep him as a steady ally. When Elain had declared that she was going to join the Inner Circle in the Court of Nightmares, you had demanded to be taken as well, despite arguments from nearly everyone. But you were tired of being treated like a baby.

You had gotten your way in the end, after agreeing to strict orders to stay at the foot of the dais the entire time. It wasn’t ideal but it was something…better than staying home.

You were dressed in a black tulle, A-line gown. The bodice was sheer but adorned with lace appliques embedded with shining silver gems. It had a sweetheart neckline and off the shoulder lace straps. It swept the floor with tulle and lace, pooling at your feet like dark water. It was beautiful, more girlish than the dress Nesta was wearing but not as plain as Elain’s modest, long-sleeved dress.

You stood at the bottom of the dais next to your sisters, between the two Illyrian warriors, as your sister addressed the crowd. Eris was standing next to Keir at the head of the gathered crowd, dressed in Night Court black himself. It was hard to deny how truly beautiful he was—especially with his striking red hair contrasting the black so well. You could feel his eyes on you from time to time but kept your gaze forward.

“May the blessings of the Winter Solstice be upon you,” Feyre declared.

Keir was the first to approach with a low bow. “Allow me to extend my congratulations.”

“And allow me to extend mine as well, on behalf of my father and the entire Autumn Court.” Eris had stalked forward as well, giving your sister a pretty, cultivated smile. “He shall be thrilled by the news.”

“I’m sure he will.” Rhys kept his eyes trained on the Autumn Heir. “Music!”

An orchestra began playing and Feyre raised her voice and said, “Go—eat.”

The crowd slowly began to dissipate. Keir also disappeared as half the crowd began to dance seamlessly to the music.

“Before you join the merriment, Eris,” Rhys drawled. “I’d like to present you with your Solstice gift.”

You tuned out the conversation, taking in the rest of the throne room. It was your first time here in Hewn City. It was as monstrous as expected. But beautiful still, in the dark way that screamed Night.

You tuned back into the conversation just as Feyre spoke, “Ordinarily I would ask you to dance, but my condition has left me unwell enough that I worry about what so much spinning would do to my stomach.”

She looked at the three of you, as if deciding who she would offer to the Heir of Autumn even though it had already been decided. Elain gave a passable impression of appearing interested, as she had been directed to. Nesta just looked bored. Rhys and Feyre had given you no direction, claiming Eris would be tempted more by power and a wide-eyed, young girl, as they had called you, would not be of interest to him.

“My oldest sister shall take my place.”

But it was like Eris hadn’t heard Feyre speak as he stepped forward and stopped in front of you, not Nesta. You blinked at him, your brows raising with confusion as he extended his hand to you, an open invitation.

“I’ll take the little bunny,” Eris purred with that fox-like grin. He kept his amber eyes on you, not looking towards Feyre despite speaking to her. “If the Lady agrees, of course.”

“I-I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the dances, my Lord,” you said, politely, ignoring the hand outstretched to you as your cheeks turned red at the attention.

Eris didn’t back down. “That’s quite alright. I’ve been told I’m a good lead.”

You glanced at Feyre and Rhys, uncertain of what you were supposed to do. This wasn’t the plan. Eris was never supposed to take interest in you. You were a speck of dust compared to the power rolling off Nesta—power, the only thing he was supposed to care about.

You felt talons scrape your mind and let your sister in.

Just go with it for now. We’ll send in Azriel to take over before it goes too far.

You slipped your hand in Eris’s hold and let him escort you to the dance floor just as the dance finished and the introductory strains of the next began. You couldn’t wipe the wide-eyed look off your face as much as you tried to. You placed your free hand on his shoulder just as his broad hand slid around your waist, pulling you even closer to him.

You blushed, somehow turning even more red than you already had been.

He leaned down to whisper in your ear just as the violins began their song.

“And so the fox ensnares the bunny again.”

Your eyes narrowed at him. “Stop calling me that.”

“Why?” he purred, beginning to lead you into the dance. “It just seems so fitting.”

“It’s not,” you grumbled, trying not to stumble over your own feet. You were lucky that this waltz was similar to the one from the human lands or else you would have surely embarrassed yourself already.

The pair of you finished your first rotation around the dance floor in silence but that smirk never seemed to leave Eris’s face to your annoyance. Flame simmered in his eyes, never leaving yours for a second. You felt something flutter in your chest.

“So,” Eris finally spoke. “Have your owners finally let you out of your cage?”

“I am not caged here,” you murmured. “Just because they don’t find you pleasant company, doesn’t mean I haven’t been allowed around others.”

You snapped your mouth shut, a brief wave of horror passing through you. You had just insulted him. You had just done the opposite of what was supposed to be happening tonight. But to your surprise, Eris just chuckled, not seeming offended at all.

“Do you find me unpleasant, Lady?”

“I remain undecided, my Lord,” you said. “Though everyone certainly has a lot to say about you.”

“What lies have they told you about me, sweetheart?” He twirled your around again, your skirt swishing in the air. A faint fluttering of butterflies grew in your stomach.

“What are these lies you speak of, my Lord?”

You tried to channel your sister but it came out so wrong. You didn’t sound as aloof as her. Nor as cold.

“Don’t try to play the game they want you to.” Eris’s smirk grew into a grin. “It does not suit you, bunny.”

“Maybe if you stopped playing games, I wouldn’t feel the need to as well,” you muttered with a frown. Eris’s grin sharpened.

You were failing at this task. Failing so profoundly that it was embarrassing. You hoped your family couldn’t hear this conversation.

“This is not a game to me, little bunny,” Eris purred, his grip around your waist tightening. “None of it is.”

“Your behavior seems to say otherwise. So does your reputation.”

“Do I not ally myself with this court under constant threat of being discovered and killed by my father? Do I not offer aid whenever Rhysand wishes?”

“That matters little to me, my Lord,” you said. “I am not a piece on this political chessboard you seem to have with Rhysand.”

“So what matters to you, Y/n?” Eris kept pace with the other dancers and you followed his lead as best as you could. “Tell me. I wish to know.”

Your hand slipped from his shoulder, down to his chest and right over his beating heart. “This. This is what matters to me. I would rather someone good of heart over someone with power.”

“How sweet,” Eris teased. “How naive.”

“Gods forbid someone be hopeful for the goodness of people to be the change in this world,” you bristled.

To your surprise, Eris merely smirked once again. “Goodness cannot exist amongst cruelty, sweetheart. Just as hope cannot exist under the burden of responsibility.”

You studied him closely. “Aren’t you tired of putting on a show, Eris? I have seen monsters. You do not seem like one of them.”

Eris yanked you closer and your heart began to pound in your chest. “Then I’d say you haven’t seen enough of the world and its monsters if you truly believe that, bunny.”

“Stop calling me that!”

“Wide-eyed, fluffy tailed,” Eris listed off, his fox-like grin returning. “Still has hope that she can change the world. I have seen this story, sweetheart. I know how it ends. Perhaps it would be best for you to return to your safe, little burrow where you belong.”

A wave of anger crashed into you, your body heating up.

“You don’t get to tell me where I belong. No one does,” you huffed. “Especially not a jerk who doesn’t have dreams of his own and lets everyone else dictate who he is!”

Eris didn’t seem perturbed by your impassioned speech. If anything, his grin seemed to grow. You hadn’t even realized the song had ended and that the two of you had come to a halt on the edge of the dance floor, too lost in your anger.

“You’re just going to have to learn the hard way, sweetheart. You think having dreams and hope makes you something but it doesn’t. It can’t.” Your hand dropped from his chest as he brought the one he was holding up to his lips. “You are only ever going to be what others think you are.”

He pressed a kiss to your knuckles before letting it fall to your side.

“Sly fox.” He pointed to himself before turning his hand to you in a sweeping gesture. “Dumb bunny.”

“I am not a dumb bunny,” you growled.

“Right,” he drawled in a teasing manner that infuriated you. “And you are definitely not caged here, either.”

Your eyes widened as he strode away from you, disappearing in the crowd but not before he tossed one last remark over his shoulder, “I’ll catch you later, bunny.”

You stared at his back as a scarred hand landed on your shoulder with a firm grip, knocking you out of your stupor. You looked up at Azriel, at his cold, unreadable face that stared down at you.

“Come on,” he murmured. “I’ve been ordered to take you back home.”

And just like that, your night–and freedom—was over. Eris’s words and his stupidly handsome face haunted you the entire journey back to Velaris.

#acotar fanfiction #acotar x you #acotar x reader #acotar #eris vanserra #eris x reader #eris acotar #eris x you #eris x y/n #autumn court #eris fanfic #eris imagine #acosf #eris vanserra x reader #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra acotar #eris vanserra fic

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fhrlclln · 10 months

Text

miguel o’hara x wife! reader

guys… i just wanna rub his back 🥹 (this small fic is solely for my self-pleasure lmao)

LIKE LOOK AT HOW BROAD AND WIDE AND I COULD JUST CLIMB HIM— but anyways, waking up miguel with back rubs cuz i know he needs them desperately.

suggestive themes under the cut

｡･:*˚:✧｡

you groaned awake, eyes fluttering open as the morning sun shined through the bedroom. you grumbled, feeling a warmth beside you as you groggily lifted your head up with a surprise awaiting. a sleeping surprise actually.

miguel was sleeping next to you, stomach down and arm wrapped around his pillow, amusingly you cocked to your side, surprised to see your husband is actually sleeping beside you. knowing him, you had guessed he’d be at his lab last night, sleeping in usual by that small couch he placed in it. you weren’t utterly disappointed that he’s like this, he’s a busy man, a busy man with a lot of work going on in his life than most. you smiled sleepily, admiring the way how relaxed he is, light snores coming out of his mouth. and how his bare tan back was deliciously being glistened by the lovely sunlight.

god, you’re certainly awake now as his muscles flexed suddenly as he moved in his sleep, head moving to the other side to face you. your heart fluttered, finally seeing his face, yet you frowned a bit seeing his eye bags were more sunken than last week and his face seemed more paler than usual. you sighed, guessing he came home more tired than usual. you glance wearily at the digital clock, seeing it was almost noon, you guessed both of you overslept a bit. you yawned, stretching, your tank top scrunched up a bit as you giddily glided your hand to touch his back, wanting to slowly arouse him from his sleep to join you for brunch.

“mhmm…” he groaned a bit, thick brows of his scrunching cutely. you silently chuckled, moving your body to sit up as you softly rubbed circular motions on his broad back. you hoped your touch wasn’t that cold as you felt him shift again before he continued snoring.

“miguel… wake up. ‘s almost lunch time.” you softly whispered, kissing his shoulder as you continued rubbing up to his deltoids. your hand wasn’t that big to completely rub each part of his muscled back, he was big, big in all sizes, which you love about him. even in height he towered over you, mostly you love the way you’d grip his back, loving the feel of it when you’re under him. you bit your lip, a little flustered now how frisky you are just by watching your husband sleep. you can sense him finally waking up, you kissed the back of his neck, pressing your body on his as you snuggled against his side until his arm suddenly pulled you in closer, engulfing in his embrace, making you giggle. the scent of him covering your nose as you sighed happily.

“too early, hermosa.” miguel grumbles as he squints his eyes open to see you. you kiss the tip of his chin, wrapping your arm around his waist as you rubbed more circles on his back, making him groan in pleasure.

“that feel good, honey?” you whispered sweetly, nuzzling your nose on his neck. his arm shifted, hand now moving along the expanse of your thigh, gripping your bare flesh, your sleep shorts riding up, making you squeeze your legs at the feel of his rough calloused fingers.

“yeah, yeah, i’m awake.” he chuckles tiredly, the pupils of his eyes dilated as he ducks down to kiss you. you moan, feeling a little helpless as he moves to tower over you, making you forget what you woke him up for as he kisses down to your neck. grinding his hips to yours, the clock turning to almost 12:00 as he gently bites down.

it was a good way to start the morning though.

｡･:*˚:✧｡

domestic bliss i love it

#miguel o’hara x reader #miguel o’hara #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #miguel o’hara fluff #miguel o’hara smut #miguel o’hara imagine #oscar isaac #across the spiderverse #across the spider verse spoilers #fnhrlcllnwrites #eri’s favorites 💌 ∘°∘♡∘°∘

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daycourtofficial · 2 months

Text

I am ash from your fire

Summary: Eris retires after a long night to find his mate, the princess of the night court, in his chambers upset.

Author’s note: Rhys is a jackass in this one. Honestly this was supposed to be Eris comforting reader but idk how it flipped at some point and sometimes you just gotta go with where the story takes you 🤷🏼‍♀️ also I’m headcannoning that Eris reads anything and everything he can get his hands on

(1k celebration masterlist 🍾)

Eris feels his shoulders sag ever so slightly, allowing the formalities of his stature to soften slightly as he moves further into his private chambers.

The only place in the Forest House he can at least somewhat relax. The hues of brown coating the walls, the paintings of hounds and forests covering the walls have been a comfort since his youth.

It was one of the few places Beron never entered. The High Lord would never sully himself by entering into his children’s chambers. No, he’d have word sent to them so they can come to him.

Eris walks towards the bookshelves, long fingers softly gliding over the edges of the leather bindings. His personal library was extensive - books of maps, histories, biographies, all subjects expected of a first-born heir. But also books of poetry, fantasy, and intrigue.

Eris was always a voracious reader, that need for escapism a constant in his life. His hands move on their own accord, searching for something to lose himself in when his ears perk up at a noise in his bedchambers. Unsheathing a dagger from his hip, he moves towards the room, seeing a shadow of movement underneath the door.

He reaches the door, slowly moving his hand to the handle. Once it’s in his hand, he turns it quickly, throwing open the door and pouncing on top of the person in his chambers.

His dagger is held at their throat, determined to find out who sent the risk before disposing of them. A laugh bursts out from under him, his dagger so close to their throat it knicks their throat at their laughs.

“That’s one way to say hello.”

His grip on the dagger falters momentarily, the sweet sounds of his mate’s voice causing him to loosen his hold. He pulls the dagger back, sheathing it back into his pants.

He brushes the hair from your face, taking in your amused look, his other hand going to inspect the slight knick on your throat.

“My precious fox.”

The nickname rolls off his tongue, his senses on high alert at your unexpected presence. He can sense something is off with you, and his eyes roam your body for injury.

Coming up short of any injuries sans the knick he just gave you, he sits on his haunches, grabbing your hands, helping you to sit up. You sit on your legs, keeping a tight hold on Eris’s hands, playing with his fingers.

You pull off one of his rings, sliding it on and off your own fingers, the warm metal soothing your cold hands.

He watches you for a moment, watches your fingers play with the rings he wears every day. He’s never understood your fascination with them, a nervous habit perhaps. He watches as you move the gold ring onto your thumb before pulling you into his arms. The feel of you settles him, and he can finally breathe deeply for the first time in weeks.

He holds you, pressing his face into the side of your neck, breathing in the scent of your hair. He pours what love and devotion he can down the bond, enjoying your presence before he can bring himself to ask why you’re here.

The two of you usually meet in his private cabin, miles and miles from the cruelties of the Forest House. He can’t recall if you’ve ever even been in his private chambers.

You pull back from him, shuffling around so you can sit in between his legs, back pressed to his chest. You know you have to tell him why you’re here, but you can’t look at him while you do it.

You’re not sure what you’ll find from him as you recount your tale.

You take in a breath, deciding to tell him what happened instead of letting him wait.

“Rhys found one of your letters,” you say, not able to look at him. “I was called away while I was reading one of them. It was foolish - I always hide them before leaving my room.”

Something warms in Eris’s chest at the thought of you, courts away from him, pouring over every word in the letters full of love you’d exchange between each other.

Much like he did every night.

“We got into a big fight, and he uh-“

Eris watches the tear slip out, sliding down your face.

“He told me I was no sister of his.”

Eris can’t help the snarl that comes from him, and you gingerly place a hand on his thigh, a motion he knows is grounding the both of you.

“What did his little lackeys have to say?” He spits out, unable to hide his contempt for them as he asks.

His dislike of Cassian and Azriel was no secret, but it took you a long time to coax out of him what about them he disliked.

“Truthfully, I found out how Illyrians treated females and it left a foul taste in my mouth,” he had told you once. It was all you could coax out of him, and perhaps that’s all there was to it.

At his core, Eris defined males by how they treated the females in their lives. Perhaps he assumed that Cassian and Azriel were the same as the other Illyrians and did not want to press further.

“They uh weren’t there,” you reply, “no one else was there. Perhaps he sent them all away so he could throw a fit.”

You laugh a little, thinking of just how red Rhysand’s face had gotten during your fight. You feel Eris’s head lay against your own, his fingers tangling into the strands of your hair.

“He was yelling, screaming about how I was defiling the family name by being with a Vanserra.” You sigh. “Then he began screeching about how you’re awful, you’re terrible, and ‘what about Mor’ and blah blah blah.”

“How’d you respond?” Eris asks, hands idly moving to hold onto yours in a soft grasp.

“I told him to ask Mor about what actually happened that day.”

He hums, allowing you to absentmindedly play with his fingers as you speak.

“He said that Mor would never lie to him. That she would never lie to any of us.” You blow out a breath, “then he said I had been cursed by the Mother to be mated to you.��

Eris knew the words were not your own, but the sound of them on your lips still stung deep in his chest.

“That’s when I told him to fuck off.”

Eris looks down at you as you peer back up at him, adoration, love, and a hint of sadness shines onto you through his gaze.

“We fought back and forth for a while after that. Then, after realizing I wasn’t giving up so easily, he gave me a choice.”

“My family name, my title, my claim to the throne, or you.”

Eris’s grip tightens. You two had spoken about what the worst outcomes would be if you were found out. Neither of you had ever expected Rhys to disown you.

Rhysand, who adored his little sister more than anything. Rhysand, who insisted you were an integral part of his life. Rhysand, who constantly ensured you were safe and happy.

He threw all that away the second he said you would never give up your tiara collection for Eris.

“Oh, my little fox.”

He peers down at you, your eyes wide as you peer up at him, your face upside down.

He knew he’d never get to love you wholly, unabashedly, publicly. He always knew something would come between you. He lets his gaze linger, memorizing the slope of your nose, the curve of your cheeks. His fingers move and, without his prompting, they start gliding across your face. They move as if he were studying it, preparing himself to have to recognize you in blindness.

To only see you in the darkest hour of the night, when his fingers can retrace these patterns, and pretend you’re next to him again.

He could, he thinks. He’d recognize you anywhere. His breath is shaky, knowing he will have to wait until you two are gone from this world to be together.

He would spend the entirety of his afterlife searching for you, in whatever form you took. If you were nothing more than stardust, a gentle whisper on the wind every Starfall, his flame would burn higher that day, reaching out for you one last time.

He resigns himself to these last few minutes with you, but he doesn’t feel the despair in his heart mirrored in your own.

You feel hopeful. You feel open.

He can’t ask, but you know he needs to hear it.

“I am no longer the Princess of the Night Court.”

Hot tears pour down his face, and he struggles to keep his mouth closed to keep from gasping at your decision. A tear falls onto your face beneath his, splashing across your cheek.

“I am officially without a name, without a home, and with no title,” your voice full of more determination than Eris could imagine, “I humbly ask if you could provide these things for me.”

A strangled sob breaks from him, and you twist in his arms to hold him. Surprise takes over your face, utter shock cascading through the bond before you can stop it.

Eris Vanserra, heir to the Autumn Court, a master of masks and facades, always playing the sly courtier three steps ahead. Never in all the years have you known him have you ever seen him so emotional.

Eris looks to the ceiling as you throw your arms around him, embracing him tightly. The heat from his hands was clawing at your back, but it didn’t burn.

You shushed him as he continued crying into your hair, the sight of him becoming undone such a shock to your system.

“I apologize, my love, deeply and truly.”

His hands stay on you, every inch of you needing to make that contact with him.

For so long, his life revolved around choices he was not privy to, choices that were not his. He was a pawn in an ever tiring game, one he was trying to make his way out of.

He presses you into him, unable to believe that someone, anyone, especially you, would choose him.

You chose him. You chose him the day the bond had snapped, and you chose him now, when everything was on the line for you.

He knew that he would make the same choice, putting everything on the line for you, preparing to finally take down Beron.

“I choose you too.”

#eris x you #acotar fanfiction #eris vanserra x you #eris vanserra x reader #eris x reader #eris x y/n #eris vanserra x y/n

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thehighladywrites · 2 months

Text

ACOTAR MEN X READER, BANNING THEM FROM INTIMACY

☀︎ — summary: you let them know they’re not allowed to touch you in any way, shape or form. How do they react!

☀︎ — warnings: 18+, nsfw, az being a slut as per usual, cassian being yummy, touchy needy fae males, slight dumbification in lucien’s

☀︎ — amara’s note: lucien was my fav one to write omgggg, also i hope u sluts enjoy😈😈😈😈 also enjoy while i work with tutor az👀👀

RHYSAND

“You’re putting me on a ban? You can’t be serious.”

“Nuh-uh Rhys, you flirted with that girl so have fun by yourself for the unforseeable future.”

Rhysand didn’t actually flirt with anyone, he was being his usual self and the way the girl was leaning towards him made you angry so you just blamed him instead

He gets through the first few days calmly although he is mildy irritated. Especially when Cassian and Azriel tease him about it.

“So no sexy time for you Rhysie, that must suck,” Cassian says as he ties his hair back.

“Well, not really much sucking these days, right?” Azriel snickers, getting ready for the inevitable fight

Rhysand takes out his frustration on them for their smart little comments.

Rhysand has quite a high libido so that man usually fucks you good atleast once a day even when you’re both busy.

“Darling, please forgive me. I will never do it again. Tell me what I can do to earn your forgiveness.”

He begs and begs because he’s going a bit crazy

In the end, it takes him only three days for you to forgive him and lift the ban. The man is charming and seduces you into dropping the ban

The second you drop the ban, he grabs your waist, throws you over his shoulder and winnows to the cabin where he fucks you for a week straight.

“That oughta put that nasty idea out of your head forever” he says, patting your head while smiling at your ruined self. Mascara running, laboured breathing, and a pounding heart is your only answer

Yeah this man wrecks you and you never pull this stunt again…

YUMMM MHE IS SO DELICIOUS 👹👹👹👹

ERIS

“You may not touch me or have sex with me in any way until I say you can.”

He narrows his eyes as he slightly smiles when you announce a ban on all intimate activities for the unforseeable future.

“Is that so?”

You cross your arm on your chest, lifting your chin in defiance.

“Yes, that’s right. Since you want to entertain Nesta Archeron, you may not be in my vicinity.”

You are being waaaaaay too dramatic. He didn’t even spare her a single glance until you pointed to her. Nothing at all happened, I mean the male didn’t even know she was at the ball until you told him.

Nesta walked up and was a bit too close to him and even though Eris moved to your side, giving her an unamused look, you were still irritated

And since you couldn’t take it out on her, you take it out on Eris.

But Eris knows what you’re doing, he knows how extremely dramatic you are being, so he just lets you cool off, let’s you huff and puff around the house

You are a mess. An absolute mess

You find yourself longing for Eris's touch, even just a simple headpat from him would send you into cardiac arrest.

The fact that you lasted an entire week is insane bc you’re both touching each other in some way all the time

When you’re lounging; his head rests on your chest, and you lovingly massage his scalp, running your fingers through his hair. Alternatively, he pulls you closer to his body under a warm blanket, nestled in his neck, while he warms his hands for you, acting as your personal heater.

When you’re in public; he always has a hand on your lower back, waist or you walk hand in hand. You also wrap your hands around his biceps, caressing the arm when you feel tired

When you’re in a meeting; your hands naturally seek each other under the table. Whenever one of you gets heated or irritated, the other soothes them by rubbing their thumb on the back of their hand, offering quiet support.

After a week of torture you finally breakdown in his office, storming in and placing your palms on his wooden desk. He looks up at your curiously, an eyebrow raised.

“Okay, I can’t do this anymore, please touch me, I don’t know what I was thinking.”

Eris is just as desperate as you are but he wants to drag this out just a tiny bit more before giving in

“Interesting. You initiated this ban, yet you’re the one who can’t follow through? You were fine without me for a whole week, I think you’ll manage another one.”

Your jaw drops in disbelief. Another week? No, you’d rather die.

“I think not. I will beg if I have to. Touch me, please. I will probably die if I go another week without you.”

He leans back in his chair, puts his arms behind his head as his arms bulge. One of your biggest weaknesses

“Normally, I’d make you beg but I missed you aswell. Come here.”

You damn near cry in relief when you sit in his lap and nestle in his arms. His warm hands rub your back and thighs, making you impossibly more relaxed

“This was one of the dumbest things I have ever done. Never again.” You whine against his neck, kissing it over and over again.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he says, emotional as he press a kiss to your head

AZRIEL

“Okay.”

That is all he says when you tell him your banning him from touching you. Honestly, you thought he’d have a bigger reaction so you start getting second thoughts.

But you thug it out bc you still want to prove a point even though he looks super unbothered

In reality, Azriel is panicking on the inside

Although he knows he can physically withstand sex, it’s the love and intimacy he misses the most

So he does the one thing he knows you won’t resist

He sluts around the house

Okay, he walks around shirtless or with super tight black shirts thst highlight years and years of working out

Azriel knows you’re weak for his muscles and body so flaunting it around is step one of his plan.

Step two of his plan draws him extremely close to you, mere inches away. He leans in as you speak, exploiting yet another weakness.

He wears delicious colognes that make your eyes flutter. He wears chains around his neck and leans over you.

Azriel’s final and ultimate slut move is waking up in the morning, his deep voice sending shivers down your spine as he speaks. It's all it takes for you to cave in to his charms.

You find yourself the one begging for his touch, unable to resist the longing for his embrace. You babble about never wanting to go so long without feeling his presence again.

CASSIAN

Cassian’s love language is most definitely touch so when you tell him that he is banned from here on out, he freezes.

Like it doesn’t make any sense, he actually can’t grasp the concept.

“What does that even mean? What do you mean I can’t touch you?”

Tha man is flabbergasted

He will follow you around, apologizing for his behavior over and over. You’ve already forgiven him since it was a minor thing but he doesn’t know that

Cassian starts carrying a pillow with him, imagining it is you. He craves touch, and if it's from a damn pillow, he'll gladly take it

He pouts as you try to surpress a smile at his expression. He’ll give you puppy eyes in hopes of you dropping the annoying ban

Eventually, Cassian levels up and becomes extra touchy with the inner circle instead, seeking any physical touch

A confused Azriel gets extra pats on the shoulder, but Cassian's hand lingers, staying put longer than usual, leaving Azriel puzzled by the sudden change in his behavior.

An amused Rhysand receives more hugs, but Cassian's hugs linger, holding him close as if imagining you there for a moment.

Obviously, nothing compares to you, and the whole situation only makes Cassian more irritated.

No sex is just unbearable. Jerking off isn’t fun at all and he can count on one hand how many times he had to use his hands since you got together

After only one and a half day you start to miss his touches and get jealous that your friends is getting his warm touches instead.

You’re also very horny and since you and cassian have a VERY active sex life, it makes a lotta sense. This male usually fucks you 1-2 times everyday, and I mean EVERY day

Seriously not a day goes by without some action, whether it be fingering, bjs, handjobs, nipple play, him eating you out, 69 just anything really

When you finally, after 1,5 excruciating days let him touch you, he smiles and thank the Mother then drags you to your bedroom

Y’all don’t come out for a solid 2-3 business days

Ever since the ban, he is stuck to you like glue fr

LUCIEN

Lucien is very calm for someone who isn’t allowed to touch his mate

“You’re banning me from touching you? That’s really cute,” Lucien remarks casually, a hint of amusement in his tone as he takes a sip of his peppermint tea.

You furrow your brows, pouting. “I'm not joking, Lucien. If you touch me, I'll scream,” you assert firmly, crossing your arms over your chest. With lifted chin and proud gaze, you stand your ground, making your new and temporary boundaries clear.

Lucien chuckles softly. “Yeah? You’ll scream? Love, you scream real nice for me when I touch you anyway, so what's really new?” he teases, getting closer to you.

“I mean, do you really want me to not touch you?” Lucien asks, his voice low as he inches closer and closer until your faces are mere inches apart.

He gets so close, his warmth leaving you breathless. His soft, plump lips barely brush against yours, the touch so light it's almost not there.

“Tell me, my sweet, perfect girl,” he murmurs, his breath mingling with yours, “who put this idea in your head?”

You are barely functioning, your words stuck in your throat as you struggle to come up with a response.

“I know you're too out of it to properly respond to me right now, and it's okay,” Lucien says gently, his tone teasing. “I guess using your brain is a tough task, hm?”

You nodded absentmindedly, distracted by his charming smile

“M'sorry, Lucien,” you mumble, your words breathless and slightly slurred. “It was just a joke. I really want you to touch me,” you admit, your voice trailing off as you become increasingly dumbfounded in his intoxicated presence.

He tsked with mock sympathy. “It's okay, sweetheart,” he said gently, gripping your chin. “Let’s not say things we don’t mean the next time, okay?”

“Okay, I won’t.” you say blushing at the proximity before giving him a sweet sweet kiss on the lips. Lucien pulls you in closer and y’all fuck right there on the kitchen table but damn it was good

Yeah, banning Lucien from intimacy will never work

🏷️: @thelov3lybookworm @redbleedingrose @acourtofladydeath @acourtofwhatthefuck @clairebear08 @rowaelinsdaughter @artists-ally @berryzxx @aroseinvelaris @cupidojenphrodite @jeannineee @daycourtofficial

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stormhearty · 3 months

Text

Paring: former Azriel x Reader

Triggers: mentions of cheating, mentions of death, cursing, a lot of bold and italicize

Word Count: 3K+

Summary: The High Lords called a meeting to discuss the Death-God’s resurrection. However, with the death of their Seer, tensions run high between Day and Night Court, Helion outraged by the loss of your life. Truths are revealed and lies are exposed. And what happens when the High Lords realize that they have all been too late?

Note: I thank you all for all the love you have given to my one shot!! I had never thought it would have been so well received by fans and writers! I am very amused by everyone's reactions and thoughts on the one shot — everyone is wanting blood and redemption for our poor reader. And she will! This chapter is a segway/filler chapter — but still important. It's still angsty, don't worry. This one shot will probably become a 3 part series. I know in that voting poll I had done asked if you guys wanted a 5k chapter, rather than a 2- 2k chapters, but I wanted to leave you guys with one more chapter to look forward to! Please look forward to it!

Part One | Part Three | Epilogue

<Pushed to the Edge> Masterlist

“You had abandoned my emissary, disregarded her sight and had her take her own life in your Court… And for what? Your mate’s sister’s powers?!” Helion was fuming, amber eyes staring the High Lord of Night down, “And that her mate — - “a growl escaped his lips, as he glanced at the Spymaster next to Rhysand, “Had cheated on her for said sister?!”

The High Lord of Day’s voice echoed throughout the throne room, shaking its very walls at the allegation of what had happen within the wards of the Night Court. Helion’s fingers gripped the edge of the large round table, his claws causing the wood to splint underneath his fingertips.

“And now… you are telling me that her body disappeared?” his voice deathly low, “That your Spymaster’s shadows had whisked her body away to — God-knows-where… That, that child, never had never had a proper burial?!”

Rhysand couldn’t utter a single word against the claims placed against him and his Court — he couldn’t when everything that Helion had roared was true.

“… Show me…” Helion hissed, focusing at his old friend, “Show us what had happened that day…”

Rhysand gulped, staring at Helion before glancing around the table towards the High Lords of Pyrthian. All of them staring him down before all felt the claws of Rhysand's power creeping in their minds, images of that day of your death playing in their minds — all of them watching the confrontation between the Inner Circle and you — on how you were cornered and betrayed, leading up to your very death.

He hated it. Rhysand not only relived that that multiple times during his dreams — where he had failed you. He now had to relieve it while he was awake. Hearing your pleads and cries for him to listen to your visions, and seeing your body dying on that marble floor — to watch it be taken away by tendrils of shadow.

Once the memory came to pass, sobs echoed throughout the room. Helion being the loudest as he ran a hand down his face, his form shaking in his seat. Rhysand glanced towards his Inner Circle, watching his family relive that moment as well; eyes focusing on Azriel, who gripped the arms of his chair as his face wrinkled in anguish at the memory.

It had been a month ever since your death, a month since the sliver of shadows that once served the Spymaster had taken your body away — unknown to even Azriel on where they had brought your body to. And a month ever since more and more whispers of Koschei’s resurrection echoed throughout the Courts. The Death-God’s power vibrating throughout all of Pyrthian — it was difficult to not miss.

The High Lords gathered in Day Court to strategize on the impending danger of the Death-God. However, it was no secret on what had happened in the wards of Night Court. The loss of your light present throughout all of Pyrthian — every High Lord felt it.

Especially Helion.

He wanted nothing more to hurt and maim every member of the Inner Circle; but that wasn’t the purpose of this meeting — though he wanted it to be.

Helion reigned in his emotions, trying to calm the rage that boiled in his blood. Trying to clam the sadness he felt for the loss of you. He straightened up in his chair, letting out a shaky breath, looking back at the Night Court High Lord.

“… I regret that I ever had sent (Y/N) to your Court, Rhysand,” his tone small and disappointed, “Her powers were wasted on you and your Court. A Seer taking their life, being betrayed by the people she called her family,” His head shaking, a laugh, one so loud and so sarcastic escaping his chest that it echoed in throne room, startling the other High Lords, making Rhysand flinch in his seat. “What a damn found family you made. Betraying one’s mate, betraying a person who had served you for five-hundred fucking years over a female who barely has control over her own powers.”

Amber eyes darted to Elain, as he watched her flinch back, hiding behind the eldest Archeron sister, “What prophecy have you seen now?” the sarcasm very evident in his tone, “Have you seen what (Y/N) has seen? Have you seen the resurrection of Kosechi, as well? Your powers are nothing compared to (Y/N)’s.”

“How dare you talk to someone in my Court like — -” Rhysand started.

“You have no right to challenge me in my own Court, Rhysand!” Helion bellowed, hands slamming on the table, standing up as he glared at his once-called friend, “Do you realize what you have done?! Do you realize why there hasn’t been a Seer in millennials? Why (Y/N) has been the only recorded Seer in the history of Pyrthian? Because Seers have been hunted — by Fae, humans and Gods alike. They are so sought after, for their power, for the knowledge, for their sight. Seers have the power to uncover what is hidden, lurking in the darkness. They are the very light that unveils the darkness. They have been hunted to be exterminated for that very power…”

It had been the very reason why Helion had taken you in when you were a child, guarded carefully in the Day Court. To ensure the prosper of your power, the prosper of your light.

Amber eyes darted around the table, eyes staring at the High Lords that had situated themselves in this very room, listening to his tale before they stared back at Rhysand, “You, being the powerfullest High Lord if all of Pyrthian should have known that. And now, her body, one filled with Unknown-God-and Cauldron bound powers is missing…”

A huff escaped his lips in exasperation as he sat down back into his seat, “Her body should be buried here, in my Court, where she rightfully belongs to. But, no. And none of us could properly pray respects for the loss of her light…”

It was no secret that Helion had a soft spot for you. You were like his child, raising you since you were small, watching you grow and become a bright light within the Day Court. He knew how your light felt, how he basked in it as if it was the sun that radiated overhead.

And so when he had woken up that night in cold sweat, feeling the vanishing of your light — he knew something had gone terribly wrong.

“… — Helion…” Feyre tentatively called out to him, “You said her body is Cauldron bound? What do you mean by that?”

The Day High Lord glanced at the High Lady, staring her down before he nodded his head once. Leaning forward to rest his chin on his hand, “That’s what both myself and (Y/N) believe. (Y/N) is one the strongest Seers I have met in my life, those few Seers that I have encountered, ones that have wanted to remain hidden, are no match to (Y/N)’s powers. Your little Cauldon-Made Seer is no match for her either,” he sneered at the middle Archeron sister.

"There has been little records of Seers in Prythian, we all know that. Not even my libraries had enough information about them and their powers. But, despite that, (Y/N) was able to hone into her powers with little instructions… You know that she doesn’t just see the future, she was able to see what was happening now. She was able to focus on parts of Pyrthian and tell me what is and what will happen.

“But during the war with Hybern, much like when Nesta felt the Cauldron, (Y/N) felt it too. We didn’t know why, but we realized she and the Cauldron were somewhat connected. Whether it be the Cauldron was reason why she has her visions or if the Cauldron was the source of her power, they were bound. A natural connection between the two of them. And when the Cauldron broke, (Y/N) had told me she felt the Cauldron’s power sought refuge with her, as if the Cauldron sought her light.

“After the war, she had asked for my opinion — she felt the remnants of the Cauldron’s power tingling through her. She told me she saw more visions, visions of the far off future that she had no idea when would happen, and that her powers were starting to become out of her control. She was starting to lose herself in her powers, lose her mind to it… I didn’t know how to help her…”

The Inner Circle remembered, weeks after the end of the war, (Y/N) had asked if she could return to Day Court for a few weeks. Rhysand had let her, thinking it was not important. Azriel, too, didn’t question on her reason why she wanted to leave.

It was when they started to not care. When they started to focus their attention to Elain — the Seer that had defeated the King of Hybern.

Helion let out a broken laugh, staring at the Inner Circle, “I’m sure you never knew, did you? On how broken she started to be after the war. You never knew how her sleep was plagued with visions, that she couldn’t even close her eyes without images flashing behind them. Of how she sobbed in bed, wondering if she was in a dream or reality. She couldn’t differentiate anymore… And you…” eyes focusing on Azriel, “You never felt her pain because you put up a wall between your mating bond. Did you know, Azriel…”

The Day High Lord’s tone was seething, remembering those day.

“Did you know, how she cried for you? She begged down the bond for you to come and help. Wanting your protection, wanting to help sooth the pain she had felt? Wanting you just to be there? But all she could feel was the wall you placed, ignoring her… abandoning her when she needed all of you the most…

“I sent her back, hoping that all of you would help. I sent her back with sleeping tonics, hoping to help her with her sleep. Hoping that her family and mate would help her through her toughest time. Hoping that you all would see her. But I can see that never happened. That no matter how much she begged for you all to listen to her visions, to see her in pain, you ignored,” his voice was laced with anger, disappointment.

No one said a word. The air in the room tense and dense at the revelation that Helion lamented. No one knew of what you had gone through.

Azriel felt his his heart burn in his chest, as if his siphons were burning his skin — he felt the remnants of the broken mating bond in his chest, aching more at Helion’s words.

He didn’t know, he didn’t see, he didn’t feel the pain you were going through. He had ignored the tug of the bond when he had that wall up. He had been too infatuated with the middle Archeron sister, wanting her to feel belonged in their Court — all the while alienating the person who had been with him through thick and thin.

And, yet, he couldn’t do the same for you.

Bright blue eyes closed as Feyre silently mourned and apologized to the Heavens, to the night sky where you might have been.

But she realized on the implications of what had Helion had told them — that you might have been the Cauldron-bound object that Koschei needed to escape that lake.

She looked up at Rhysand, and he to her as they communicated down the bond. Both of them realizing what could happen.

The gesture wasn’t missed by Helion as he watched them, waiting for them to explain what they might have discovered. However, when they did not say anything, a growl escaped his chest.

“What is it?”

Feyre and Rhysand looked at the Day High Lord, hesitance shown in their features, “… It’s about what (Y/N) had told us. You all saw it in that memory…”

Helion thought, playing the memory back as he watched remembered your face, the anguish of your features shining through his head, listening to your words — your vision of what might pass.

“… That Koschei needed something from the Cauldron to be released from the lake,” Lucien pointed out from his spot next to Helion, the russete eye looking at Elain before back to Feyre.

“What if…” Tarquin mumbled, “…Koschei found (Y/N)’s body? If you and (Y/N) knew of the connection to the Cauldron, that the Cauldron sought her power. He could use her body to be freed from that lake.”

Helion looked at the Summer High Lord, amber eyes wide at the realization, “… If that were to come to pass, we would be doomed. (Y/N)’s body is probably soaked in Cauldron powers. It would be so easy for Koschei to be freed, and no one would ever notice. It is not impossible, but since (Y/N)’s body has disappeared, it is possible for her to have fallen into his clutches.”

Kallias, in the mist of the conversation, was watching, observing, the only remaining Seer in the room. He leaned forward, bright blue hues staring the Made-Fae, as he rested both arms on the table, “Have you had any visions?”

Heads turned towards the High Lord of Winter at his question. It did not phase him, as he continued, ”I heard from your High Lady that you rarely said anything about your visions, since the Cauldron broke. So do tell us, what have you seen about the Death-God?” If she had her powers still, a Seer would be still useful in this situation.

Elain visibly swallowed, as all attention was on her once more. Brown eyes frantically glanced around the table, over to her sisters and then to Azriel who both looked at her expectedly.

A heartbeat later, and the Middle Archeron sister knew that she couldn't lie.

She shook her head, “I have not seen anything… since the Cauldron broke…” her words nothing but a whisper in the wind.

It was as if a pin dropped on marble floors, the silence in the room was penetrating.

A laugh broke the silence. Eris’ shook his in disbelief on the drama they were hearing, “So you’re telling us, you have been lying about having your powers. And that (Y/N), who has actually seen those visions had taken her life?” he glared at the middle Archeron sister, “For what? Because you needed a position in the Night Court? So that you can gain the Spymaster’s affection? To bed him?”

Elain shook her head again, brown eyes desperate as she tried to catch eye with her family, with Nesta, who just looked away, brows furrowed with anguish, “… I just wanted to be useful…” she whispered in fear, slumping down in her chair, “My powers… were the only thing that made me feel like I belonged… But I didn’t have them, and… I just, didn’t want to lose my family.”

“And yet, you were willing to let (Y/N) lose her family, her mate… and her life. Just to keep your own,” Thesan expressed, "That selfishness will be the downfall of Pyrthian."

Elain flinched at the truth thrown onto her face, eyes down-casting, silence taking over her form.

Before anyone could reprimand Elain for her actions, the grand doors slammed open, a dark mist blowing throughout the room. Frightened and confused screams echoed through the room.

Helion stood up, using his power of light to dissipate the darkness that tried to cover the room. Amber eyes glowed as he watched as a cloaked figure float into the room.

Eyes watched the cloaked figure as it settled its form onto the floor, bare pale feet touching the marble.

“… I would think… that if the Pyrthian High Lords would gather… they would invite a God to their meeting. But I guess, manners do not exist in this world…” the voice was grating and brittle.

The hood swept, as if eyes inside were looking at all the High Lords that were now standing up, all attention to him.

A eerie chuckle escaped the hooded figure, spiny fingers grasping the edge before slipping it down. White hair and black eyes were revealed, pale, sickly skin glowed underneath the darkness that had surrounded him.

The figure bowed, a mocking gesture to the High Lords.

“It seems, that you are unaware of who you are being greeted by…” a boney finger raised up and pointed towards Nesta, the eldest sister stiffening, “Though I’m quite sure you do, dearest sister…” he grinned at her.

Nesta gulped and looked at the uninvited guest. She knew who would greet her like that — only the Death Caver has echoed the same words, “You’re Koschei… aren’t you…”

Koschei grinned wider, head tilting to the side as he stepped forward, laughing as the High Lords ready themselves for a battle with the Death-God.

“Oh don’t be so tense, my High Lords…” he mockingly commented, sweeping a hand, “Please sit… Do not stop your meeting for dear little old me. Though it is such an honor for you to do so.”

He rounded the table, eyes making contact with each of the High Lord, black eyes sweeping over their forms before he stopped before Rhysand.

Violet hues and black sockets stared at each other.

“Though I do have to thank you, High Lord of the Night… You have gifted me the precious gift of life. Though, it was through the loss of one of your own… You might have known her. Cared for her… Loved her…” Koschei looked at Azriel whose hazel eyes burned at the Death-God.

He let out a low laugh.

Tarquin’s assumption was right — the Death-God had used your body to free himself from the lake, right underneath their noses. No one felt it, no one knew. And it had been too late to do anything about it; months too late to prevent the resurrection, months too late to find your missing body, months too late of not listening to you.

Koschei looked behind him, far past the grand windows, the familiar cry of the bird of fire and ash echoing through the lands of Day Court, heading towards them — Vassa had come to stop the sorcerer-lord from his destruction.

However, before she landed on the balcony, an arrow, made of shadow and darkness struck her, causing the great bird to plummet to the land beneath her.

Lucien gasped and ran towards the balcony, peering down to see if the mortal queen had survived the fall; but there was no sign of the cursed queen anywhere below.

“What a dramatic entry by Vassa, as always…” Koschei said with a sigh, before another chuckle escaped his lips, dark eyes boring into the empty spot beside him, “Don’t you think… (Y/N)?”

All heads snapped towards the Deathless God, your name slipping from his lips, as they watched a swirl of darkness materialized a familiar figure. Azriel watched, hazel eyes wide as he took in your form, whisps of shadows that had whirled around you — his shadows, one that had abandoned him ever since your death.

“…(Y/N)…” Azriel whispered in disbelief, his voice shaking.

There you stood, next to the Death-God, very much alive.

Very much like a Death-God yourself.

And it echoed in your outfit — tendrils of shadow made up your dress, covering you from head to toe, fluttering near your feet as if a gown swayed by the wind. In your hands, a bow and arrow made of those shadows — the very bow that had struck Vassa down from her flight.

That was where Azriel’s shadows had gone to — leaving him, following you to your death, and making you someone completely different.

Someone that was going to be the downfall of Pyrthian itself.

Tagging: @cleverzonkwombatsludge, @setayeshmohseni, @kindasleepycryptid, @f4iry-bell, @woodland-mist, @kalulakunundrum, @topaz125, @thelov3lybookworm, @hnyclover, @harrystylesfan2686, @anuttellaa, @ithan-holstroms-girl, @judig92, @venuseuripedis, @fairywriter-oracle, @thehighlordishere, @acourtofbatboydreams, @willowpains, @historygreekqueen, @dr4g0ngirl, @ayme301, @kemillyfreitas, @crazylokonugget, @abysshaven, @michaelharrypotter, @naturakaashi, @kittenbi, @namelesssav, @guiltyreader, @awkardnerd, @je-suis-prest-rachel, @quackitysdrugdealer, @thesunloveschips, @brieflyclassymortal, @justdreamstars, @isa1b2h3, @himesuedi, @fxckmiup, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @t0uch-starved-h0e, @mybestfriendmademe

#acotar fanfiction #azriel x reader #acotar angst #acotar x reader #acotar fic #a court of thorns and roses #( .one shot : pushed to the edge )#acotar fanfic #azriel angst #helion acotar #eris vanserra #rhysand #feyre archeron

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azsazz · 1 year

Text

Soul on Fire

Eris x Reader

Summary: You've been called to the throne room to speak with the High Lord...and you can't say you're mad when you find out he doesn't want to talk at all.

Warnings: Smut, face-fucking, choking, brief mention of voyeurism.

Word Count: 3,172

Notes: The Eris era is really Erising. 💅🏼

_________________________________________

The tall doors of the throne room loom before you.

Thick wood so dark it looks like it’s been scorched by the powers of many Autumn rulers before, black creeping up from the floorboards where the staff hadn’t been able to sand it away. The brass knobs are as clean as ever, polished frequently, the metal so pristine you can see the nervous sweat beading at your hairline, the flush to your cheeks, and the anxious look in your eyes.

You’ve been called to the throne to stand before the High Lord of the Autumn Court. For what, you only had an inkling of an idea, but your heart races a timorous beat as you flee from your rooms as soon as you heard word of the royal requesting your presence.

A steady breath in, and out, before you push your way into the room.

A gust of Autumn wind lifts your hair off of your shoulders. It’s chillier than you thought it would be, with the usually hot tempered High Lord this room was nearly always filled with the fiery heat of his commands. The new ruler of the Court is having a bit of trouble keeping his father’s men under his thumb. You wonder how long any of those single-minded old males will last before the breeze blows their ashes away from the palace.

The large room is silent and empty, except for the High Lord lounging upon his throne. Your breath stutters in your chest as you catch sight of him, looking every bit of the Lord he had always been destined to become.

“You called, your highness?” you ask when you reach the bottom of the dais. The intricate rug drapes down the many stairs leading to the large throne the High Lord is sat upon, sharp branches and leaves twining like that of the Autumn Court seal. The throne itself is luxurious and new, as Eris hadn’t wanted to sit on something that his father once had. He wanted the traditional umbers of the court that signified the burnt destruction Beron had caused throughout his reigning years removed. In its place sits a sleek throne draped in mossy greens – a new beginning – your High Lord sitting leisurely in his rightful spot.

He looks as effortless as ever, and your breath hitches in your throat at the sight of him. Eris is slumped back, one leg hooked over the arm of the throne while he stares you down with a lazy grin. His burnished crown shines against the ruddy copper of his hair, a strand hanging in front of his eyes that he couldn’t be bothered to brush back.

Eris takes his time responding, instead he takes in the sight of you, a long lick of his eyes from your face to where your crimson skirts pool against the stone floors and back up again. He smirks when he sees the brightness to your cheeks, matching the color of the fabrics you don.

“Yes.” He sounds like smoked cinnamon and it seeps through your skin to settle in your bones. Your mind strays to the night before, when he’d whispered many pleasant words into your every limb. “Take off that dress.”

“Really?” you scoff, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms over your chest. “I thought you called upon me for something serious.”

The caramel of Eris’ eyes burns, deepening to dark sugar. It licks up your spine, a sharp, hot, sear and your thighs clench at the sudden ache between them at his response. “Oh, fawn, I am deathly serious.”

You tsk, “Now isn’t the time to be playing, Er–”

“King,” he corrects, suddenly shifting in his seat. Your mouth goes dry as he swings his leg from where it was resting over the arm of the throne, planting his boot down to the floor with purpose as he leans forward to stare down at you, elbows resting on his knees.

“Your Highness, King, mate…” you drawl. His nostrils flare at the last term, pupils swallowing the molten sugar of his iris’ like a void. Eris loves this little game, a King playing with his loyal subject. Even though you are his queen–his equal–you love it when he pulls rank and takes charge.

“The dress, fawn,” he reminds you, nodding to your fine clothing. He'd had the gown made for you as a surprise, and it’s the first time you’ve worn it. Maybe Eris had had ulterior motives to speak with you before you’d waltzed into the room and took his breath away.

Swallowing harshly, you hold his heated gaze for a long moment. The burning flames flicker, and you know the longer you wait to follow his orders, the rougher he’ll be.

You want to wait until he cracks. Until he stalks down from his throne and drags you back up there with him. Until he slips your skirts over your head and stuffs them into your mouth and rips your panties from your dripping cunt. Until your ass and pussy are throbbing and raw from the lashes from his thick rings and open palm.

But you know Eris has more patience than anyone you’ve ever met. He had to, to be able to deal with his father being on the throne for centuries, and even now, with Beron dead, his people still hold powerful positions until Eris kills them in a hot-tempered conversation or finds replacements for them.

He smirks at you when your hands slip behind you, finding the tie of your corset and tugging it loose. He leans back in his chair more comfortably as you let the fabric fall from your body in a dreamy wave. The thick fabric brushes against your pert nipples and you have to stifle the moan that threatens to escape at the sensual feeling.

Just as you love it when Eris is demanding, he loves it when you are obedient. He thrives when you listen to his commands, always so eager and ready for him whenever he might need it. You know exactly how to edge him, toying with your long-term lover in ways that make his wild side come out to play, and you can see that scrappy, fiery fox writhing inside of him at your blatant display of refusing to obey.

You can see the outline of his cock pressing against the corduroy of his emerald trousers when he shifts. The sight of his long, hard cock sweeps up memories of only last night, when he’d taken you in the gazebo in the gardens twice over.

Eris had made it a plan to fuck you in every single room in the Woodland house. It had started even before he was High Lord, the both of you sneaking around the palace, fucking in closets, libraries, even in his father’s beloved war room.

Your cunt clenches as his eyes linger and you know that he can smell your arousal from all the way up there because he smirks wildly and it sets your heart racing.

He nods towards the ground. “Now get on your knees and crawl to me.”

You swallow roughly but this time there’s no hesitation, kicking your dress away and lowering yourself to your knees before your king.

The floor is cool beneath your hands and the plethora of necklaces grace the room with a rich sound as you move. The carpet of the dais burns into your skin, you know the roughness of it will leave your kneecaps tender and raw.

Eris watches you prowl your way up to him like a predator. The sway of your hips as you climb, the way your nails curl into the harsh rug. He imagines the same way your nails will rake across his pale skin and a full body shudder works its way through him.

You pause when you reach the top, sitting back on your heels like the good High Lady you are. You know better than to touch him, not while he’s still drinking you in, but the sight of his cock being smothered in those tight trousers makes you yearn to help him out of them.

A drip of your slick slips from your heat when he nods, allowing you to finally do what you’ve been aching for.

You waste no time helping him out of his pants. Eris helps you only by lifting his hips so that you can rid him of the offensive things, tossing them haphazardly over your shoulder as your gaze zeroes in on the way his cock springs from confinement. You hear the dull sound of his belt hitting the carpeted stairs behind you, but you’re much too eager to wrap your hand around him and feel him in your mouth.

He halts you, catching your throat in his hand as you duck down to taste the smooth skin of his cock with your tongue. You nearly whimper, but it’s cut off when his fingers tighten, pressing into the pulse points of your neck. You’re almost unable to look away from the bead of precum pearling at the tip of him, but he titles your head, wrenching your eyes to meet his own.

“Hungry for my cock, fawn?” He croons and you go dizzy with it. His tone sounds like a cruel tease and the fingers pressed to your throat only aid in the feeling, but it only makes you keen.

“Yes, my King,” you struggle to get out. You’re the perfect picture of begging, wide eyes and dripping for him.

Eris’ fingers unwind from your neck, instead sliding around to gather your hair in a tight fist. He guides you closer to his cock and your lips part, eager to taste him. When you lean in faster than his hold allows he jerks you back slightly by your knotted hiar and you moan, eyes rolling into the back of your head at the sensation. Your fingers clench around his cock in response and he can’t help the grunt that slips.

“Not too fast now,” he growls, “I’m in charge.”

You nod but don’t back down. You slide your hand down his shaft as you battle with the melting steel in his eyes. You bite your lip at the sound of his breath catching in his throat, the shifting of his chest.

He allows you even closer to his cock and you pause before him, letting your warm breath fan over the head. You can see the way the muscles of his thighs are straining, how badly he wants to shove you down and slip himself down your throat.

Eris’ next words arrive on a shaky exhale. “Now be a good fucking girl and take it.”

His taut hold on you goes slack and like a moth to a flame you take him into your mouth. His precum tastes like everything you’ve ever needed, heady and smoky like the autumn fires he’s bred from. He gives you a choked moan before his hold becomes more firm, bucking his hips while pressing your face further onto his cock.

“Relax your throat,” Eris soothes, stroking a thumb across your neck where his cock is making it stretch. He groans, satisfied as you follow his directions and he shoves his way deeper. “There you are, fawn.”

You moan around him, lathing up the smooth sides of his cock, pulling back to swirl your tongue around the head. You know him like you know yourself, exactly what he likes and how close he’s getting to orgasming, and you’re so cumhungry that you use your best efforts to urge him closer.

He hisses through his teeth, figuring out quickly what you’re doing. The loosened grip in your hair tightens again and now he’s in control once more, pressing you so far down onto his cock it makes your throat burn and tears spring to your eyes, but Mother, is it everything.

“You’re just begging to be punished, aren’t you, fawn?” he growls, bucking deeper down your throat. You gag, choking on his girth but Eris doesn’t let up and he doesn’t allow you breathe until you’re raking your nails down his thighs, leaving fiery red marks on his pale skin.

He rips you off of his cock after a final rough thrust. You splutter, spit dripping from your open mouth as you gulp down lungfuls of the heated air surrounding the both of you. He doesn’t let you swallow it, holding your mouth open with a thumb pressed to the tissue beneath your tongue.

“Come up here,” his tone goes a shade softer, like he’s begging for you now, but he’s still very clearly in control. “Come sit on my cock, fawn. Ride me on my throne.”

You scramble to your feet, wiping your chin as you go. Eris leans back in his chair, cock standing at attention. It’s glistening with your spit, shiny in the setting sun drifting through the large windows that overlook the orchard. The tip is an angry pink and looking more than inviting.

You straddle his waist and the softness of his throne stings against the rug-burned skin of your knees.

They’re going to absolutely kill tomorrow.

You waste no time in aligning his cock to your cunt. The wetness coating your thighs only adds to both of your arousal, and you press your mouth to Eris’ in a desperate manner as he moans loudly when you slide your slick cunt against his cock, coating it further.

His warm hands slide up the outside of your thighs, drifting higher until he can grab palmful of your ass. His blunt nails sink into your skin and you nip at his lip in response.

He opens his mouth when you pull away, to give another demand no doubt, but you’re quick to press down onto his cock, shuddering and keening like a kit as you take him in.

“Fuck, fawn,” he grunts. The veins in his neck pop as he strains to hold himself back from fucking into you. He can barely help himself, your wet heat is deliciously tight and swallowing him so deeply he doesn’t think he’ll ever get it back. “You’re so fucking tight.”

You hum in agreement because it’s the only sound that you can make. His cock has shoved all of the air from your lungs and your fingers twine into his copper hair, twisting and pulling as you throw your head back in pleasure. Your necklaces chime as Eris mouths over them, enjoying the metallic taste mixed with your skin as he sucks bright red marks.

You bounce a little, testing how you feel from the stretch of him inside of you. You don’t think you’ll ever be used to feeling this full, dripping like a whore onto his lap as you sit up on his throne with him and he clings to you like a lifeline.

Your eyes flutter shut as you begin moving and your mind drifts for a fleeting moment, filling your head with the thought of Eris fucking you like this as the entirety of your court stands behind you, watching their High Lord own you.

His hands travel across your skin, pausing at your breasts to tease and twist at your nipples. You clench around him and he groans in response, the sound pulling from the depths of his chest like a wave, and he tips your chin down to see you. The sight of him makes you tingle and the fiery feelings of love he sends down the bond spur you further, swirling your hips before grinding down on his cock, sharing a moan and a breath together.

His freckles stick out harshly in the warm sunset, like embers had graced his skin as a child. The burnt umber of his eyes can hardly be seen with how large his pupils are, as if they’ve grown to be able to take in as much of you as possible.

“That’s it, fawn,” he praises, voice strained as you shift again to take him deeper. Your thighs are burning with effort, and it feels like being consumed by his powers, hot against your skin, burrowing its way beneath your delicate flesh. “Just like that.”

“Eris,” you hiss, unable to help yourself. A whimper leaves your mouth on a panting exhale as he twists your pebbled nipple in punishment. A reminder that you know what to call him right now, and his name isn’t it.

The motion only heightens your arousal, and you’re teetering on the edge of an orgasm, clawing at his clothing, tearing through the buttons, desperate to feel his chest beneath your own.

Eris notices the slight faltering of your movement, how your bounces go from fluid enjoyment to distracted desperation as you chase that euphoria.

“King,” you whimper, and it sounds like you’re in pain. Eris’ fingers immediately find your clit and you melt into him, body shaking and muscles seizing as he works the sensitive bud with flame licked fingers. It drives the tingling through your body, the burning in your gut, but without your movements, it’s not enough.

His free hand clamps around your waist, the bulging muscles of his arm tense where your hand is wrapped around his bicep. He plants his feet, and holding you tightly, with his fingers still torturing your clit, he jackknives up into you.

He’s strong. Fuelled by the pleasure-filled adrenaline he takes you from his spot under you, pistoning his hips to meet yours in a frenzy while he circles your clit with equal amounts of fervor. You release a shuddering breath that pitches into a series of pleading moans as you cum, riding out the waves of your orgasm as he jerks inside of you.

“‘M going to cum, fawn.” Eris’ breath is hot against your skin, voice gravelly and strained. The chains around your neck are no longer cold metal cooling your heated skin, but are now as molten as you feel against him, your cunt clenching around him as if to keep him there forever. You slide your hand up his chest and hook them around his neck, drawing him in for a kiss because you so desperately want to taste your name as he cums.

You feel it all the way in your bones, you mating bond shoving to the surface to twine with his own. It feels like you’re metals melting together, burning bright on his throne, Eris’ power rumbling throughout the room. It makes the necklaces you’re wearing rattle but you cling to him tighter, his arms wrapped so tightly around you that you can hardly breathe. He is your everything, and you his.

A knock on the door startles you from your post-orgasm haze. You share a look with your mate but he doesn’t let you up, enjoying the feeling of his cock and all of his seed stuffed into you more than he should.

“You’re not going anywhere yet, fawn,” he murmurs, and the wicked smirk that curves his lips has you tightening around him again. “You may enter!”

#eris x reader #eris vanserra #eris/reader #acotar #eris smut #acowar #acomaf #azsazz

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yearning-for-autumn · 3 months

Note

So, here is my humble request 👀:

Reader is afab Illyrian, got her wings clipped (because we hate this tradition that’s why and because I am too much into enemies to lovers) and the Bat Boys consider her something close to a little sister.

When Eris was making a deal with the NC to get their help to kill Beron and that shit, his bond snapped with reader.

Obviously problematic for him because he has been insulting Illyrians since his mom popped him out about 500+ years ago.

So…bonus points for: smut obvs.- go as filthy as you like, Lucien absolutely mocking Eris for FUMBLING desperately to get his charm going, reader being oblivious.

I hope this sparks some ideas and creativity 🥰🤞🏻

Would That I -- Part 1

A/n: This was too good not to make into a multi-part fic, so expect more soon. Smut will be coming!

Pairing: Eris X Illyrian!Reader

Warnings: Allusions to smut, pining, mentions of mental health

Word Count: 3,638

Summary: You hate him. You hate the very thought of him. And yet he's your mate. The Mother has a cruel sense of humour.

Part 2 Part 3

Fury rippled through your body like a forest fire. You were livid. And Cassian had the nerve to laugh at you. Well, stifle a laugh. Rhysand was watching him with a worried look as he tried to give him a silent warning to stop. This progressed to warning him mind to mind when you got up from the sofa, flinging a pillow so far it almost landed into the fireplace. Azriel flinched.

“Him!?” You seethed, finally breaking the silence you had kept since your return from that damned High Lord meeting. Cassian snorted softly and you rounded on him with a deathly calm. Rhys made a small noise in the back of his throat.

“Is this funny to you, brother? I’m shackled to that evil, pompous, ginger-haired freak and you’re laughing?” His smile had dropped and a look of fear was quickly overcoming his rugged features. You stepped closer to him, your finger in his face. “Don’t sleep too deeply tonight.”

Rhysand cleared his throat.

“Look, this doesn’t have to be the end of the world. You don’t have to accept the bond. We can make sure you never see him again.” The bond snarled through you at that and you growled.

“Sure Rhys, because you were so calm when you found out Feyre was your mate.”

His brow furrowed.

“So you want to be with Eris?” The name seemed to physically disgust him. Azriel scoffed, abruptly rising from the sofa and marching out of the room. Cassian eyed the doorway in his wake. You turned to Rhys.

“No!” You groaned in frustration, pacing up and down on the carpet like a caged animal. Cassian’s eyes darted between Rhys and you. Finally deciding to break things up he manhandled you into a hug. You fought it for a few moments, before giving up and collapsing into your brothers embrace, hot angry sobs wrenching through you. Rhys took this as his cue to leave, and winnowed—probably to his office—out of the room. Cassian rubbed soothing circles on your back, careful to avoid your wings that were ever more sensitive after the clipping.

You were clipped at thirteen, which is how you had come to live with the three brothers. In Windhaven, they clipped your wings the day you started your cycle. Once grounded there was no escaping your duties, nor any chance to leave the camp. Unless, of course, you had grown close with the High Lord’s son, who had a mother with a habit of collecting strays.

You were there through all of it, the highs, the lows, and Morrigan’s tumultuous relationship with one Eris Vanserra. The male you were now mated to.

---

In the Forest House, Eris was pacing. His throat was still sore from the memory of Azriel’s scarred hand, and his cheek burned from the slap that had earned him from his father. But all of that had been overshadowed. He knew as soon as he saw you. His heart had lurched in his chest so hard he had thought he might throw up. You were the most beautiful female he had ever laid his eyes on. And of course, you were from the Night Court. The Mother truly did have a cruel sense of humour.

You had walked in, looking as arrogant as the rest of them, sharing a secret smile with the shadowsinger before sitting down next to the High Lord. Eris, next to his mother, couldn’t rip his eyes from you. Your doe eyes, sharp and intelligent captured his attention first. He wanted nothing more than to get lost in them, to find out everything about you: What you liked to read, your favourite food, how best to pleasure you and have you screaming his name. He was pulled from his fantasies by your wings. Cauldron, your magnificent wings. Their beauty stole breath from his lungs as they unfurled, getting comfortable on the chair. You had smiled at Feyre, warm and supportive, and Eris knew he was utterly lost.

He finally stopped his pacing, locked inside his room, and sat down on the edge of his bed. He sat there, holding his head in his hands until he heard the scratch of claws at the door. Getting up with a weary sigh, he opened it only to be knocked to the ground by his oldest and most loyal smokehound.

“Cheddar.” He chided as she licked his face excitedly. “Cheddar Biscuit.” He said, sternly, and she leapt off of him, waiting by the door expectantly.

“Yes alright, I suppose it’s time for a walk.” Cheddars tail thumped faster against the door frame and Eris couldn’t help the smile that grew. “Go and fetch your brothers and sisters then.” He said, grabbing the leashes off the wall. A walk was one way to clear his mind.

---

As you had predicted, Rhys was holed up in his office when you went looking for him. He barely looked up at you as you entered.

Rhysand’s office was always meticulously organised, but as you came up behind his chair you noticed how messy his desk had become. Letters and notes were piled on every inch of space, his childhood stuffed bat sitting atop one pile as a makeshift paperweight.

He loosed a breath.

“We are going to war, Y/n.” He said quietly, and any thoughts of Eris Vanserra eddied from your mind. Rhys looked up at you with bloodshot eyes. Guilt coursed through you for ever caring about something as trivial as a mating bond when you and your brothers were set for battle. You had only just got Rhys back from under the mountain, only to potentially lose him again.

“Is it certain?” You asked, leaning down to rest your head on his shoulder.

“Yes.”

“Is Cass--?”

“Leaving for Windhaven by first light.” He answered.

“Ok.”

Rhys turned, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. He knew what you were thinking, though you wished you weren’t.

“Eris is an awful male, Y/n. You know I could never support the bond between you. Azriel is...well, I’m sure you already know.”

You did. The moment he had stormed out of the room you had known this was the beginning of a negative spiral for Az. Not to mention the upcoming war. You stood up straight.

“That being said.” Rhys continued. “Eris is ensuring Autumn allies with us against Hybern. There is a certain political advantage to the match.”

You scoff.

“Like there was with Mor?” Rhys turned green. “What did Eris bargain for in return for Autumn’s support? What did you trade away, Rhys?”

Rhysand looked every bit five centuries old when he turned to you.

“Our support in his bid for the throne. Whenever that may be.”

Hatred for the male burst anew in your gut, fiercer still now that you were mated to him.

“That power hungry bastard.” You spat.

Rhysand sighed.

“He could never deserve you, starlight. I will make sure that he never sees you again. I will not lose another sister.”

---

It wasn’t until midnight that you saw Azriel. The last of your brothers to approach you. He let himself into your room, waking you, tattered blanket draped around his shoulders. Rhys’ mother had sewn it for him years ago, before you had come to live with them. It had helped him through many hard nights. So much so that it was threadbare and faded. Rhys had enchanted it not to break further as a solstice gift one year.

You sat up worried.

“Az? Are you ok? You didn’t—”

“No,” He assured, and you relaxed against the pillows, “I’m ok.”

You shuffled over in your bed to make space for him, and he laid next to you, blanket over the both of you.

“I hate him.” He said into the darkness. “I hate what he did to Mor. I hate everything he stands for. I will not let him have you.” He declared.

You snuggled up to your eldest brother.

“I don’t know why you all seem convinced I’m going to somehow fall for this prick.” You said, and he snorted. “I hate him as much as you do.”

Azriel tucked you under his arm.

“I know.” You smiled tiredly, somehow understanding the words Azriel left unsaid. The words Rhys had been able to express. Azriel’s shadows settled over your heart, confirming, and the two of you fell asleep.

---

Months later, Eris sat in a tent, head between his legs to stop from throwing up. Thousands were dead. Thousands more were surely destined to die. Two of his brothers, and his mate, fought on the battlefield.

He only had a moments warning before he was violently sick into a bucket.

Asher, his youngest brother before Lucien, chose this moment to enter his tent unannounced, scowling at the sight of Eris hunched over and retching.

“Can’t handle the bloodshed, brother?” He teased, though he sat next to Eris and put a warm hand on his shoulder. The gaping wound on his neck was healing quickly, as it should with the High Lords power coursing through his veins, but the sight of it set Eris off again. He heaved into the bucket, choosing to ignore the gagging sound Asher made.

“Eris you need to pull yourself together. Father is only a tent over.”

Eris rolled his eyes.

“Just show me your plans, Ash.”

“I don’t know, maybe I’m better off keeping them to myself, seeing as you’re battlesick.” Asher grimaced when Eris finally sat up and pushed the bucket away from him.

“Asher.” Eris’ voice held all the command of General, and eldest brother. Asher groaned petulantly as he handed over the plans.

In Eris’ opinion, not that Beron took any heed, Asher should never have taken on as much responsibility in this war. After Ceres had died, Ash had taken over as Eris’ right hand. Ceres had been more naturally suited to the role, Beron’s bloodlust had run as deep as his bones, and he had a sharp mind for strategy. Eris still mourned the boy he had raised—a quick witted, chess loving, boisterous child—but he had to accept, he had lost Ceres long before he had died. And Eris wasn’t keen on losing anyone else. Asher wasn’t comfortable with a sword, the gash in his neck clear evidence, and he had a wife and child that weakened his resolve. This is what Eris had to work with. And he had a job to do.

He let Asher discuss his plans, though he was unable to rip his mind from providing a hundred different ways that he could die, that Ash or Lucien could die, that you could die.

It took every ounce of training ingrained in him not to falter in his attack the moment he had caught sight of you, fighting your way through the onslaught, Mor by your side. Cauldron, you were ethereal. Your silken wings were spread as if they could carry you into the air, though he had long since guessed that they could not. You cut through your enemies with a frightening ease. Catching his eye, you hesitated just a second, then your face had turned to rage and the next Hybern soldier to cross your path had been beheaded so brutally that even he had to avert his gaze.

When he had looked back up, you were gone, lost in the chaos.

Asher sighed,

“You’re not listening.” He said, and Eris had the decency to feel bad. He looked at Ash wearily.

“Come back in the morning. I’ll be more attentive.” Ash just peered at him over his notes.

“It’s her isn’t it. It’s Y/n.”

“Yes.” Eris said, lacking the energy to lie.

“She’s Night Court. She’s not one of us. One day you’ll find a nice Autumn girl to marry and when you’re High Lord she can pop out a few Autumn court babies.”

“She is my mate.” Eris growled.

“Mate’s aren’t always meant to be Eris. It’s only a biological match, not a political one. When you find an Autumn Court lady you’ll wonder why you ever spent time worrying over some Night Court harlot.” Eris snarled, despite himself. His brothers words were wrenched straight from Beron’s throat and he wouldn’t stand for it. Not from Asher. Not from his kind, loving Ash.

“Get out.” He said. Asher looked surprised, and—Eris was pleased to see—ashamed. He made no moves to leave, so Eris repeated himself, sharper this time.

“Get out.” He snapped, “Come back in the morning with more sense.”

Asher, chastised, fled from the tent, and Eris buried his head in his hands. What use was there protecting you from his brothers when it was certain your own said the same about him. There was no denying the cruel twist of fate the Mother had pulled on the both of you, destined to crash and burn. He imagined you in your own tent, laughing at the thought of him speared on another males sword. Mor sat next to you whispering all the terrible things he had done that day, terrible things to twist your mind and poison the very notion of him. He was too late, he was nothing but soot in the deep pit of your heart, choking the both of you.

He felt blindly for the bond, and found it, rotten.

---

The war was over, but the scars it had left were red raw and bleeding. Rhys had died. Your brother. The one who had sheltered you, loved you, given you a home and a family for a few agonising minutes had been gone. Gone. And yet that Cauldron damned bond had been chafing in the back of your mind. You sat in your bedroom riddled with guilt as it plagued your mind. Eris. Eris. Eris. He infested your mind, your senses, you were consumed by the very thought of him.

Walking through the streets of Velaris had started to feel claustrophobic, being around anyone beginning to suffocate you. You felt safer on your own. Recently you had taken to sheltering in your room, only emerging to eat. Your brothers eyed you with poorly concealed worry every time you walked, ghostlike, through the house, shuffling to the kitchen to fix a plate of leftovers then retreat hastily to your safe space.

Nesta was struggling too, after the war. It had left its scars in all of you. You could feel Cassian’s heart breaking the day Rhys sent her away with him, but all you could think about was whether your brother would do that to you. You thought you knew the looks he gave you.

Disgust.

What use was a flightless Illyrian female, who couldn’t train, couldn’t talk, couldn’t think. He was dead. Rhys was dead. And then he wasn’t. Why were Seren and your mother not afforded the same luxury. You grieved, and cried, and screamed. It truly was a sick thing, to use to the miracle of Rhys’ living to guilt yourself into believing there was hope for them. But then, everything in your mind had twisted of late.

Nesta began training. Nesta began healing. And you were stuck in your room.

Every morning without fail, Azriel came to check on you. He stroked your hair until you woke up, then retreated when you once again rejected his invitations to join them. The Valkyries, they were calling themselves. You would have been proud of Nesta if you could feel anything anymore.

Occasionally, you could feel a light tug on the bond, on the shackles that kept you bound to Eris. The first few times you had thrown up. Now it was little more than an annoyance. You were his dog, disobediently pulling your leash as you fell further and further into nothingness. His face in your mind was as cold as it had been on the battlefield as he yanked you back, choking you. You spluttered. Standing weakly, you made your way down to the kitchen, setting water on the stove to boil.

“Sister.” Cassian’s voice rang out behind you and you flinched, dropping your teaspoon. He bent to pick it up and set it down on the counter. “Azriel says you’ve been ignoring him. You’ve been ignoring all of us.”

You shrugged, the familiar pang of guilt squeezing your chest, making it difficult to breath. You braced both hands on the counter top, taking a ragged breath. Cassian was beside you in a heartbeat, holding you in his arms.

“Y/n, I’m worried about you. We all are.” He squeezed you closer to him, closer than you had allowed anyone in months. “Come and stay with Nes and I. Az is a terrible chaperone, and I need to see you. You could be wasting away down here and I wouldn’t know until it was too late.”

You shook your head, though you no longer knew why you resisted him. Your body melted against him, muscle memory taking over as he enveloped you in his wings. You swore you heard him sniffling as you hugged him back.

“Please, y/n.” He said, voice shaking. It didn’t take much more convincing.

A few days later, Rhys was helping you unpack your bags in your new room in the House of Wind. You took the room next to Azriel, who—Cassian had explained—was falling into bad habits again: Not eating, not sleeping, waking up in a cold sweat when he did finally drop off. Cassian wasn’t doing as well as he wanted you to believe, either. Twice in the following week you woke up to find him taking things from your room. And once, when you had floated downstairs in a miserable haze, you found him throwing up in the kitchen sink, an empty plate that had once held a batch of Elain’s cookies sitting on the table.

Nesta had dragged you to Valkyrie training a few times, and whilst you were beyond their current skill level, it had taken your mind off of things. Cassian’s eyes gleamed with pride everytime Nesta mastered an attack or a block. He touched her affectionately, he teased her, he lingered as she passed to breath in her scent. Watching them together was as painful as it was sweet. How simple love could be.

Would that you could be half as lucky.

Slowly you were emerging from your shell. You could smile again. Nesta invited you to read with her and the Valkyries, and in the silence you found firm friendship. Emerie was a gift from the Mother herself. You bonded instantly, both of you clipped, grounded, but neither broken. Many late nights were spent talking, about books, your brothers, or about Eris. Nesta, Emerie and Gwyn knew little of the Autumn prince, but you appreciated their outside perspective on the bond. It was still a bitter taste in your mouth, but it was becoming more bearable with each passing week.

---

There was a ball approaching in the Hewn City and Rhys had asked Nesta to attend. Not long after, she asked you to join her.

“I can’t do this alone, Y/n, please.” She said one night, sitting at the end of your bed. You bit your lip, unsure.

“Eris will be there.” You said.

“I’ll be the one dancing with him. Rhys wants him falling madly in love with me. He won’t look your way, I promise.” Nesta said. You knew she meant well by that. You had never wanted him anywhere near you before. But something about her oath left a sting. You frowned, which she took to mean you were still unconvinced.

“Please, Y/n. My sisters will be there, Rhys will be there. I’m not ready to face them all on my own, not yet.”

And so you found yourself stood atop the stairs the following week, draped in a black dress with a slit so high up one side your whole leg was practically exposed. The back scooped so low the dimples at the bottom of your spine peeked over top. You were devastating. Death in midnight silk. Rhys’ smile was that of pure brotherly pride as you walked down the steps, your hair pinned in braids and curls.

Nesta stole your breath away as she appeared in the hallway, but it wasn’t your gaze she sought out. You looked towards Cassian and could have sworn he was drooling. Eris would be blind-sided by her, of that you had no doubt.

In the Hewn City, they danced like lovers. Nesta as dangerous in the ballroom as she had become on the training grounds. Every move was calculated, every parting of her lips a dance of the mind, designed to ensnare Eris in her dastardly web. Eris was caught. And you burned.

Standing next to Azriel, heat rolled off you in waves. He took a step towards you, perhaps to offer you a drink, but found something in your eyes to make him change his mind. You hadn’t taken your eyes off of Eris all night. He was sinful. A courtier and a Prince. His hair pooled over his shoulders, one strand to the front neatly braided. You reminded yourself that this was the male that left your cousin for dead at his Court border. Biting your lip, your mind wandered to see yourself lying prone beneath him as he stood, smile widening, cock hardening in his—

“Get me a drink.” You ordered Az. He raised an eyebrow.

“What’s the magic word.”

“Azriel.” You growled, and he turned on his heel. Your eyes stayed pinned on Eris as he led Nesta across the dancefloor in a tantalizing waltz. His gaze finally met yours, and you saw a fraction of surprise before his emerald eyes darkened. He licked his lips, eyes locked with yours as he leaned down, and pressed a kiss to Nesta’s neck.

A/N: I have to thank @fandomsmultiverse for talking to me and giving me about 100 ideas to flesh this story out, I really hope you like it! There will be a part 2 coming soon! I wouldn't just leave you on a cliffhanger like that. We will see more of Eris and Reader interacting, and maybe.....some smut...

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acourtofmenandthirst · 1 year

Text

Closed Until Further Notice

Oh my god this was WAY longer than anticipated and I wasn't planning on making it like spicy, but it's been a while so I threw some at the very end ;) this is Eris x Cafe Owner ! Reader / trope, it was very cute so I hope I captured the idea well enough for the anon who requested it!

Word Count: 10.3K

Warnings: Cursing, Smut

Eris wouldn’t say he frequented the small towns scattered throughout the Autumn Courts, nothing more than a yearly visit or two, normally just for an inspection called upon by his father. He usually came on horseback, flanked by his soldiers in their shining armor, and strolled through the town for a quick survey. He nodded politely, quick to make his way through the town without disturbing any of the residents. No matter how nice he was, how civil and respectful he was, they still cowered from him - hid in their homes and shut their shop doors when he passed through.

But there was one town, nestled just past the forest in the valley of the mountains right before the Winter Court, that Eris took his time visiting. That’s exactly what it was, in fact: a visit, not an inspection - no surveillance, no prying. He traveled there alone, winnowing to the outskirts of the village, taking his time walking down the main street. Stores and homes littered the dirt road, nearly frozen solid from the Winter wind that blew across the border; he walked along the stone sidewalk, past the brick houses and the shops built up from the redwood trees.

At the center of the town stood the bakery, a hand painted sign that spelled it out in fine script. The chalkboard was propped open on the walkway, the specials written in swirly cursive. Eris bit the inside of his cheek to hide the smile that crawled up his lips, eyeing the Topfenstrudel you’d written no doubt early this morning - probably before he’d even woken up. You’d listed a few teas below it, fruit sauces, and spices to pair it with.

Eris wouldn’t admit to it, but he’d patroned it more than the other little towns. It started once a year, just like everywhere else, but turned quarterly - monthly, even - after he visited your bakery. Small and tucked away, next to a butcher’s shop on one side and a bookstore on the other, your cafe was lined with tables and plush chairs, golden faelights and fresh flowers strewn across the space.

He slipped through the door quickly, trying not to let out the heat from the small fire in the hearth beside the counter. “Good morning,” you called from the back kitchen, not visible from the doorway. “I’ll be with you in a minute!” Eris hummed in response, throwing a tiny ring of fire at the dimming flame. He noted the heat immediately, a welcome shiver down his spine at the feeling. He shook off the cold, shoving his hands in his pockets and pacing a few steps around the cafe.

He had half a mind to bring you flowers this time - though, he’d been telling himself that the past three visits. His mother had clipped some hydrangeas from her garden, had them laid out along the long table in her drawing room. He should have just swiped a few, winnowed out before she would even notice, but he thought against it, didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or think he was trying something.

Not that he wasn’t, necessarily - he should - gods, he wanted to. But the only thing you knew about him was that he was the High Lord’s son, he didn’t want to accept your advances because you felt like you had to.

You popped around the corner, stopping in front of the counter wiping your hands on your apron. Your mouth opened and shut quickly, eyes wide at the sight of him. But he didn’t miss the blush that crawled up your cheeks, the small flustered smile when his fiery gaze met yours. “Oh - I didn’t - sorry to keep you waiting,” you said, shaking your head slightly.

Eris smiled and relaxed his shoulders. “I wasn’t, don’t worry.” He’d counted down each minute - all forty-four thousand of them - until he saw you again.

“You’re early,” you replied, pressing your hands against the counter, shuffling the random pile of papers before you.

He shrugged, eyes falling to the counter, watching how you moved the papers, each scrawled with a different recipe or note, and pushed them to the side. “Long day ahead - I wanted to make sure I got the strudel before you ran out.”

The High Lord’s son typically came closer to closing, when just a few customers lingered around. Some ducked out quickly, afraid of the tall male’s presence; others stayed, tucked away in the dimly lit corners of the cafe, watching the handsome male from just over the rim of their coffee up. He usually ordered a tea - something chamomile or tisane - along with a pastry or two, and always tried the daily special.

But you opened at six in the morning, and Eris strolled in just three minutes past.

“Then what else can I get for you, Eris?” He almost melted on the spot - his name dripped like honey off your lips. You’d exchanged names and gotten past formalities a few months ago, when you’d started greeting him more like a friend than the High Lord’s son.

He figured he’d never get anywhere with you if he kept lingering around the bakery before closing, when your neighbors sat watching his every move.

“I’ll have a coffee, please.” You quirked a brow at the male, surprised at the change in order, though you supposed it was too early for a sleepy tea.

You watched him ruffle around in his pocket for some change, the heavy gold coins shaking in his hand. He dipped his head to count the money, you watched the red locks of hair fall over his brow. You tipped your head back to look up at him, watch the fire’s shadows dance over his carved cheekbones, kissing his straight nose.

You were able to see him clearly in the morning light; you could count the freckles across his cheeks, and oh how you longed to. He looked so different at night, when the sun was gone and the only light came from the red fire and amber faelights, as well as his glowing eyes. “And how do you take your coffee?” You watched his throat work, his eyes roam over your features.

Eris pressed his tongue behind his teeth. “How you take yours.”

“Milk and sugar?” You hummed, raising your brow, smiling at the male. While he savored the sweets you served him, you would have assumed he went for the more bitter taste.

To be fair, he did. He just wanted to know how you liked yours, should he ever have the chance to make it for you himself.

Preferentially in his bed.

And nude.

“Milk and sugar,” he replied with a small nod but a broad smile.

Your eyes flitted between him and the mess on the counter in front of you - yet his red eyes never left yours, his gaze burning into you. You couldn’t help but blush, the heat emitted from his body calling to you, for you to throw yourself into him and feel his arms around you. The chill from the Winter Court was strong that morning, you’d wanted nothing more than to linger around the warm ovens all morning. But the cafe felt warmer, like it always did when he visited; you weren’t sure if it was his fire powers or just him.

How much you wanted to touch him.

“Coming right up.” You offered him a smile before trotting off to the kitchen, setting the grounds up over the set of mugs. “Make yourself comfortable.”

Your voice carried quietly from the back kitchen, just audible above the cracking fire. Eris’s eyes swiped around the cafe, over the small tables and iron chairs, never having seen the shop empty before. But he took a seat against the window, the seats shrouded with pillows with stacks of books adorning the tabletop. Your scent lingered across the space, bright and fruity with a hint of cinnamon.

He tried not to stare at the counter across the shop, watch and wait for you to appear in the doorway to return. Eris tried to busy himself, glancing at each of the plants hanging from baskets, the flowers that he tried to remember, the sound of his mother reciting each name in the back of his mind.

You piled the mugs and plates on a small wooden tray and made your way back to the tiny dining area, weaving through the tables to meet him in the corner. His thick brows raised in surprise as he noticed the amount of goodies on the tray, scrambling to stand and take it from you. But you shooed him off, setting everything down between you and ushering him to sit when you took the seat across from him.

You never thought you’d meet a member of Autumn royalty, let alone one that fretted over you carrying a small try and who stood whenever you entered the room.

“Thank you, (Y/N),” he said, quietly, almost unsure of how the word was supposed to sound - like it was foreign. But your pointed ears flexed, unable to miss the small sentiment, no matter how unusual it tasted on his tongue, he was trying.

“You’re welcome, Eris,” you replied simply, handing him a mug, taking the matching one for yourself. There were a couple strudels on a plate, paired with a bowl of fruit, and some macaroons, a couple pumpkin tarts fresh from the oven on the side.

He noticed how you pulled your strudel in half, how your shoulders shrugged slightly when you tasted it, the warm dough relaxing the cold chill that stiffened your spine. You couldn’t help but watch his hands work before you, pulling apart his pastry, just as you did, how he picked up the coffee cup loosely in those long fingers, pale knuckles and veins lining his big hands. You cradled your own mug in both hands, half needing the warmth from the side of the cup, the other half needing the grasp on reality, keeping you grounded - keeping your mind from wandering too far.

His gaze washed over you, watching as you zoned out, staring into the space between you. “Were you here early this morning?”

You blinked once, twice, trying to pull your eyes away from the male’s hands. “Yeah.” You huffed a laugh, sipping from the much needed coffee. “I start baking at four - got here at three though.” You eyed the pastry he’d picked up. “These were a bit more difficult than what I usually try for.”

“It’s excellent,” he said, taking a bite of the flaky pastry. “Very much worth the extra time, in my opinion.”

“I’m glad you came today.” Eris’s red eyes sparkled at your words, he felt the fire roar through his veins and crawl up his cheeks.

Me too. He ached; wanted to find out everything about you, about your life, what you liked and what you didn’t, your family, what made you tick, what made you smile, how you tasted, how you’d look in his bed, on his lap.

But before the male could even think of a response, the door swung open, followed by a gust of wind. Your eyes shot to the door immediately, assessing who came in, interrupting (what Eris believed to be, at least) a pleasant conversation.

“Good morning, Mrs. Aldrich,” you greeted the old female, bundled up in her coat and wrapped in what looked like two scarves. Your eyes dropped to Eris once more as you pushed yourself from the table, sauntering off to the counter to serve her.

But Eris decided to only wait a few moments longer, downing the rest of his coffee and finishing the treats on the table before stacking the bowls and plates. He ran his hands over the sides of his corduroy pants, unsure of whether to bring them to you in the kitchen, whether he should even go out of his way to say goodbye. He felt the Fae female staring at him, too afraid to say anything, but watching his every move. So he buttoned his jacket, preparing to leave before anyone else could come to the cafe to study him.

He turned to the female, offering his a polite bow of his head in greeting, which she returned with a small curtsey. “Bye Eris,” you called, poking your head around the corner from the kitchen, arms working to tie a white apron around your waist.

His eyes found yours, sparkling in the morning light that shines from the front windows. “Bye (Y/N), thanks again.” He offered you a smile before he ducked out the short front door.

Eris felt Mrs. Aldrich’s eyes move back and forth between the two of you.

_________________________

The next time he came by, it was still just as cold and just as early. He tried to take his time walking to the shop, but he couldn’t slow himself down - his hands itched, flexing at his sides, simmering with heat that poured out of him. The pocket watch in the front of his jacket told him he was a few minutes early, so he lingered along the cobblestones, kicking at the loose rocks on the sidewalk.

The lights in the cafe were on, but the specials sign was missing and the Closed sign hung across the green door. He chewed on his bottom lip, shoving his hands inside his pockets and turning on his heel. He thought maybe he should just leave, not wait around like a creep, and solicit the peaceful town.

“Eris?”

The male’s head lifted as he turned over his shoulder, meeting your soft smile. He lifted a hand to run through his messy red hair, pushing it away from his eyes. “Hey (Y/N), good morning,” he stumbled over his words, too focused on his racing heart - beating almost as rapidly as the first day he saw you.

You held the door open with your foot - the tip of your brown boot covered in flour, as the hem of your skirt was - and moved to pull the chalkboard through the door. The High Lord’s son pulled it from your hands, grabbing it easily with on and moving it as though it weighed nothing. He fixed it up on the sidewalk before turning to you with a smile. “Apricot sachertorte?”

You beamed at him, proud of your newest sweet treat, and propped your hands on your hips. You almost didn’t notice the Winter Court chill seeping through your clothes. You felt the heat he emitted, centuries of fire burning through him, drawing you to him. “You like chocolate, no?”

Eris ushered you inside, noting your missing coat when his eyes drew up and down your body. The dress you wore was thin, tight. Dusted with ingredients and a messy apron. He swallowed, forced some air into his lungs, and forced himself to not stare when you led him inside. “I have a certain weakness when it comes to chocolate.” And you.

He rolled his eyes inwardly at himself - how his father would have killed him for even making a joke about having a terminal flaw. But he’d developed enough of a friendship that he’d actually made you laugh, and it was a sound he’d say nearly anything to hear it again.

“Perfect then, take a seat and I’ll get some coffee for us.” Eris sighed in sweet relief, thanking you for saving him from having to ask you to sit with him again.

You were quick to return with two mugs and two plates, one exceptionally large slice of the torte accompanied by a smaller one. He was quick to help you, settling into the table across from the fireplace. You’d hummed when you sat down, relaxing into the iron chair, and the male couldn’t help but wonder if it was the first time you’d sat down all morning. You drank your coffee like it came from the Mother herself, savoring the rich taste. “This is probably the fourth cup I’ve had this morning.”

Eris wasn’t surprised. He was in the same boat himself, actually. He hadn’t been able to sleep all last night, not with the anticipation of seeing you. He’d forced his night owl of a brother to spar with him, tire himself out wielding the heavy steel sword. He’d fussed over battle plans and boring court papers. When that didn’t work, he’d even found himself in the kitchen, attempting what was intended to be a galette. When that didn’t work out, he gave up and laid in bed for a few more hours. He was tired, sure, but couldn’t fall asleep.

“You ought to take a day off, sleep in,” he replied, taking a bite of the layered chocolate cake. Gods, if that was the last meal he’d eat, he’d be beyond satisfied.

You shrugged, finger tracing the rim of your cup. “I could… but I just love it too much - even if I have to wake up early for it.” Eris nodded along. “Besides, what if you came by the shop and I was closed?”

He shifted in his chair, trying to settle the burn in his chest. “You’re right - ” he tried to play it off casually. “I wouldn’t know what to do with myself without your pastries.” Another job well done, he cursed himself.

You smiled sweetly, propping your elbow up on the table and resting your head against your knuckles. “So tell me, Eris. What’s on today’s agenda? I can hardly believe you came all this way just for coffee and chocolate.”

Oh how wrong you were. He’d go to the ends of Prythian just to spend one moment with you.

“Taking care of some errands for my father,” he began, not interested in divulging too much. You understood, and simply nodded along, taking whatever he’d be willing to give out. “I have a meeting in the Winter Court.”

“Ah, just a stop along the way, then.” He wasn’t sure if he heard faint disappointment laced in your voice, or if it was just what he’d been hoping to hear.

“Well - yes, but…” It was one of those rare moments where Eris didn’t know what to say. “But I wish I could come more - I don’t want to bother you. I know a lot of your customers are uneasy when I stop by - ”

You cut him off, sitting straight in your chair. “You’re not - I love when you visit, Eris.” You fought against all your instincts to reach across the table and grab his hand.

It was his turn to blush. Maybe he was overheating, what with all the layers and sitting in front of the fire. Or perhaps it was your bright eyes staring at him, burning into him, starting straight into the depths of his soul. “I wish I could stay longer, I’d like to - ”

But that godsdamned door opened again, a group of Fae walked in, conversation abruptly stopping when they noticed the fiery-haired male sitting at the table across from you. Eris stood in one swift motion, abandoning his fork and empty plate behind him. He noticed the young female that walked in, orange hair wild around her ears, starting straight at you, wiggling her eyebrows.

When he tossed a look over his shoulder at you, he saw your pink cheeks, chin tucked close to your chest. “Your highness,” one of the males began, bowing to Eris.

His friend smacked him in the chest, grimacing at his friend’s actions. “Shut up.”

Another female interrupted all of them, smiling broadly at Eris. “Good morning, sir,” she said sweetly, dipping slightly in greeting.

Eris had never felt more awkward in his life. He’d been trained in court politics, to lead armies, to host High Lord meetings on behalf of his father, to speak in front of hundreds of Fae. But never to talk with teenage Fae.

“Good morning,” he replied as politely as he could, shifting his weight from foot to foot. But he recalled his courtier training, standing tall and holding his chin high.

He got a small confidence boost though, as the other males tilted their heads back to look up at him, and cowered a few steps backward. And although Eris was normally cocky enough to have loved to inflict that kind of response on others, it wasn’t what he should be displaying in front of a female he was trying to impress.

“I have to be getting on my way, (Y/N),” he finished, turning back to look at you. “Thanks for the coffee.” He smirked, watching as you glared at your friend - the one whose eyes kept flitting between you and the High Lord’s son.

Your attention was drawn back to Eris and he threw a wink your way before he left the cafe.

_________________________

He winnowed back just after the sun had set, when the chill from the mountains was visible in each breath he took. Eris appeared right in front of your shop door, where the lights were dimmed and the sign on the door read Closed.

Fuck, he’d cursed himself, fifteen minutes late. He’d rushed back as fast as he could, after having spent the day in the Winter Court, useless meetings with Kallias and his staff. Eris had nearly run out of the meeting room, winnowing before he’d even left the table and made it close to the door.

But you’d spotted him, the brown wool coat and dark red hair from the window. You almost skipped to the door, something between a hop and a half-jog, making your way to the door before he’d off and disappeared again. “Eris, wait!” You’d called, unlocking the door and poking your head through.

He smiled when he turned around, meeting you in the doorway. You held a broom in your hand, obviously close to leaving for the evening. No matter how tired you were, there was no doubt in his mind that you’d had a busy day, you still greeted him with a cheery smile.

“I just wanted to,” he began, digging his hand through his pocket and pulling out a handful of gold coins. “For this morning.”

You shook your head, but took his wrist in your hand, pulling him through the door. Your fingers sparked when you felt his warm skin against yours. “You visiting is quite enough - ”

Eris groaned, wishing you’d held onto him for just a little bit longer. “I don’t need special treatment.”

You rolled your eyes. “I can’t be nice to you anymore, Eris?”

He smiled, sharp teeth glinting in the dim faelight. “Are you being nice to me or being nice to my family?”

He watched you tut, giving him an indiscreet up and down. It almost made him nervous. “Just you.” And Eris smiled at that, his own selfishness getting the best of him, but glad you had invited him in. “I like when you visit. You don’t do it enough.”

You’d set the broom against the table, hands clasped in front of you trying your damnedest not to look like a giddy child in a candy shop. Eris glowed, watching your movements, daring to see how much else you’d reveal to him.

Eris was too busy staring at you, committing every feature of yours to memory, to respond. “How about some tea?” You asked, already making your way to the kitchen.

“Please,” he nearly sighed, and no matter how happy and excited he was to be back at your bakery, he was still beat from a day of Winter Court bullshit.

You disappeared only momentarily, returning just after you’d set the kettle over the stovetop, with two mugs in hand. You set them on the table by the window, the seats both cushioned with freshly fluffed pillows. Eris joined you, eyeing the loose tea leaves at the bottom of the cups, a mixture of chamomile flowers, linden leaves, and peppermint.

He smiled gratefully, seeing your body relax once you’d slid into the chair across from him. “You like it here?” Eris couldn’t help but ask. You seemed to work yourself into exhaustion, rising before the sun, staying past dusk, holed away in the quaint cafe. It was a small town, too far from the other Autumn villages to easily visit - though, he supposed there would be plenty of adventure in the woods beyond and the mountains between Winter. That ought to be dangerous, especially given the fact that if Beron found out about his subjects crossing the border, he’d outright banish or kill them.

You smiled back at the High Lord’s son, him looking equally as tired as you must have. Light purple lined the tops of his cheekbones, starkly contrasting his otherwise luminous pale skin. His brows were taught, pulled together as if really contemplating your answer - or perhaps overthinking his question. He’d forgotten his coat on the back of his chair, a dark blazer underneath. His eyes glowed, his red irises burning brighter as the light from the windows faded.

“I do,” you hummed, content with your little date.

But the screeching of the kettle interrupted you, and right as you placed your hands on the table to push yourself up, Eris stopped you. “Let me, please.” Before you could even respond, he was already on his feet, rushing off into the back kitchen to pull the kettle off.

He returned with the kettle in one hand and a bottle of honey in the other. He poured your cup first and then his, setting the hot water to the side. Surely, should you let him stay long enough, it would be easy enough for him to reheat later.

“You were saying?” He continued, eyes locked on the mug before him, dropping in a swirl of honey to his tea.

You bit your lip, pushing your mug closer to him. His eyes flitted up to you once before he repeated the action. “I like it here. It’s small - I know all of my customers by now. All of their names, their orders, it’s like a little family.”

Eris nodded along, leaning back in his chair. “No problems with the Winter Court?”

You rolled your eyes. I have more problems with the current court, if we were being honest. “It’s cold,” you replied. “It’s quiet. But far away enough that we aren’t…” You bit your tongue. “Not that there’s anything wrong with - ”

“You don’t have to lie to me,” Eris replied, not shocked with your response. “I understand.”

Just like any other Fae on the continent, he reminded himself: scared of his father. He wasn’t surprised, this would be the perfect town to escape Beron’s tight holds. It wasn’t close enough that he kept it under his nose, monitoring the town and the villagers. It wasn’t particularly useful to him - no major crops or orchards, maybe lumber from the redwoods, but there were far closer regions he could busy himself with.

But he saw how quickly your brows raised and cheeks turned red at your comment. It was almost as if you’d forgotten he was the High Lord’s son up until that moment.

Eris was ashamed to carry the Vanserra name.

He finished off his tea, suddenly uncomfortable with keeping you so late. Maybe the reason you were so nice to him was because of who his father was. You were hosting him out of formality, not friendship or desire - you were probably afraid he’d go running back to the Forest House with your name at the top of his list.

You reached a hand out to him, watching his lips turn into a frown and his brows narrow as he lost himself in thought. “That’s not what I meant.”

“If there is anyone who gets it, (Y/N), believe me - I do.” He took a long sip from the mug in his hand, set it down silently, and pushed himself from the seat. His hands fumbled over his coat, swinging it over his shoulders and fastening it shut. “I don’t want to keep you any longer - I’ve intruded quite enough.” He turned to the door, to avoid watching you awkwardly scramble to your feet. The sky was dark, the only light along the street was the glow from the faelights in the windows of the houses along the way. He turned back on his heel to face you, staring up at him, bewildered. “Can I at least walk you home?”

You pressed your lips together, clasping your hands in front of you. “I live upstairs, actually.”

“Ah.” It was all that came from him, which left the male cursing himself once more. Fucking idiot. “Well thank you again, (Y/N).” Back to formalities, back to square one.

You nodded once more, watching as he turned to the door. As he reached for the handle, you stopped him, grabbing his other hand. His skin was burning hot and sent sparks into you. “You’re welcome anytime here, Eris.” You waited until he turned around, fully acknowledging your words. “And not just because of who your father is.”

Eris nodded, albeit a bit numbly, as you sent his mind reeling the moment he felt your fingers grasp his. Should I do it?

He wanted to kiss you so badly. So badly that his fingers itched to grab you and pull you against him. You batted your eyelashes at him, all innocent as if you had no idea what you were doing. Maybe you weren’t doing anything - no signals, no invitation to kiss you, love you, fuck you.

It was all in his head, it had to be.

He couldn’t compromise your innocence, not when he’d already been seen alone in the cafe with you twice in one day. He could only imagine what the other Fae were thinking, how he’d either besmirched your reputation or created a scandal in the small town.

“Then I’ll be sure to return more often.” With that, he gave your fingers a squeeze and turned - forcing every fiber of his being not to take you with him.

_________________________

Eris couldn’t sleep again. Gods, he felt ill.

He was clammy all over - absolutely disgusting. He’d forced himself from bed and into the bath, letting the cold water wash over him and take away whatever it was he was feeling. His heart was racing out of his chest, his breathing was jagged - it was unlike any other fever he’d had.

And then he felt it, laying in the cold water of the porcelain tub. It felt like a rubber band snapped against his ribcage. It winded him, had him lurching forward and clutching his chest. He figured the copper taste in his mouth was a figment of his imagination, being no stranger to the taste of blood. Maybe he bit his tongue when he felt the snap, it had his heart lurching upwards into his scarred throat.

Eris’s fingers gripped the edge of the cold bathtub - he felt the water turning hotter by the second. He couldn’t control the heat that emitted from his body, the simmering flames smothered in his palms.

That was it.

He wasn’t dying - not if you could call being utterly grossly in love dying.

His heart hammered in his chest and the fire roared through his veins. It felt like he was suffocating, sure, but it felt good. His hands were shaking, and he knew the only cure would be to have you in them. You were the one who could teach him how to breathe again.

He huffed a long shaky breath, leaning back in the tub until his back touched the now warm ceramic. Curls of steam began to dance on the surface of the water that seemed to be rippling in time with his heartbeat.

Eris shut his eyes, trying his damndest to clear his head, to calm the fuck down. But all he saw was you, the flour that dusted your cheek, the apron wrapped so tight around your waist he wished it were his hands. He thought of your cheeks, rosy and red from the ovens, your plump lips sipping on tea, how sweet you looked drinking your milky coffee. Then he remembered the shape of your brow, how it quirked downwards when you’d mentioned his father, how you gnawed on that bottom lip of yours when he’d been in such a rush to leave.

But it didn’t matter what you thought of his father, of the whole damned Autumn Court itself. He’d get on his knees before you to beg, plead for you to understand - it’s not his fault, it’s not him.

So that’s what he set off to do.

He pushed himself from the near boiling water, haphazardly drying himself off as he skitted to the wardrobe. He flung it open, opting for a casual pair of brown trousers and a white linen shirt. He ought to be prepared to do a lot of begging, spending the whole morning on his knees begging for you to accept him as a mate, begging for a taste.

_________________________

It was only seven hours since you’d seen Eris, the whole time you’d spent thinking of him and replaying your latest conversation. It was very much the same after each time you’d seen him, spending the evening tossing and turning, picturing his red hair and soft smile, the freckles over his cheeks and that little scar under his eye. You imagined what it would be like to hold him in your arms, laying on top of you, suffocating you in the best way; you pictured what it’d be like for him to hold you, laying behind you, arms wrapped fully around you, holding you against his chest.

But you laid in bed alone, staring at the clock until the golden hands ticked to three o’clock.

You pushed the covers from yourself, shivering at the cold that swept through your bones. You’d gotten better at fighting that fight, the urge to stay in bed and revel in your warmth instead of forcing yourself downstairs at such an early hour. The warm ovens called to you, but you’d have to overcome the chill of the nearly Winter air and the cold hardwood floor.

You wondered if it would be warmer with Eris there. As if the male just naturally heated every room he walked into -

No.

You shook your head, trying to rid the thoughts of the Autumn heir from your mind. You’d only distract yourself. You knew the visit yesterday would have to last you for the rest of the month. You could only begin to count down the days until you anticipated his return.

So instead, you shuffled down the stairs, pulling open your recipe book and setting out a few bowls. You hadn’t decided the day before what you were making yet - not like you usually did. Your mind had been much too occupied. You settled on figuring it out later, just starting with something simple and figuring out a custard later. With flour dusting the counter, you rolled out some dough, working it until it was so thin that it was almost transparent. A simple croissant surely would do, you’d thought. Maybe you could use up some of the pumpkin or raspberries…

You’d gone rifling around for inspiration when you felt a shiver down your spine. It wasn’t the cold of the early morning, nor the chill from the produce cooler. No - it was the hard knock on the door, rattling the closed sign against the wooden frame.

You bit your lip, debating wiping out all the Faelights - that no doubt alerted whoever was outside that you were in. But you had no choice, as the knock sounded again, softer this time, but still enough to prove your visitor’s determination to talk to you.

Not once in your centuries of owning the cafe had you had a morning visitor. Nobody had ever shown up before opening, especially not at three in the godsdamned morning.

All you could do was grab your stone rolling pin from the counter, holding it between your two shaky hands as you trotted quietly to the door. But as you stepped around the counter and wove through the tables, you’d spotten a tuft of red hair through the window.

Red hair, pale skin, long coat, the smell of firewood and burnt sage.

Your heart stuttered, pure shock replaced with utter bewilderment. Your throat tightened, nervous as to what he may be visiting for - what you may have said that offended him. Then you sighed, dropping your head to stare at the thick cotton dress you wore, the wool sock on your feet. Fuck, you huffed, blowing a piece of hair out of your face. The Mother could not have prepared you less.

All you could do was pull the door open, holding the rolling pin behind your back.

And when the door swung open, the cold coming in immediately, Eris’s eyes were blown wide. The red around his dilated pupils glowing against the dark of night. Gods you were so fucking beautiful. His gaze roamed over your messy hair, the loose dress that hung over your shoulders, the cozy looking socks on your feet.

“Hey,” he said, quieter than intended. He cleared his throat, stepping closer, arms tightly pressed behind his back. “Sorry to - interrupt.” He couldn’t stop - his eyes were roaming, frantically moving between yours, trying not to wander over your body, his mind was reeling, heart was pounding out of his chest. His cheeks were flushed, breathing ragged - the bond was fucking with him. Absolutely fucking with him - he wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to stand in front of you much longer without having to get his hands on you. “I regretted leaving so abruptly last night. I stayed late and should have at least helped you clean up.”

You smiled. He was so serious. Those red eyebrows were raised, mouth parted, almost frowning at the corners - so distraught. “Don’t make a fuss about it - I just like your company.” I miss when you’re not here. I miss your visits.

I missed you.

The corner of his mouth turned up, gaze softening at your apparent forgiveness. He took a step closer, closing the distance between you. He moved his arm from behind his back, holding up a bundle of blue-ish hydrangeas - the flowers he hadn’t stopped thinking about bringing you.

It wasn’t inconspicuous, like he hoped it would be. His mother caught on immediately, asking him why he kept inquiring about her flowers, what she’d pulled from the garden. Who are you bringing them for? He’d rolled his eyes at her, scoffing. I’m not bringing them to anyone, mother. I can’t show interest in the garden? So he’d been deterred from bringing them. He didn’t want to draw attention to it - to you - especially not from his father or courtiers.

Until that night - until he had the perfect opportunity, when everyone was asleep, to snatch them from the table and winnow straight to you.

Your eyes fell to the bunch of flowers, jaw dropped, unable to speak. What did you say? What does one say to the High Lord’s son who brings you flowers. He brought you flowers. You simply couldn’t find the words. But when you looked back up at him, having to tilt your head upwards to meet his gaze, he looked so scared - unsure if you’d accept them, as if he’d made some horrible mistake.

And you couldn’t help but laugh, having to bite your lip to stop yourself. You didn’t take the flowers, you took his hand, that warm, blazing hot hand, and pulled him inside. “Well, no point in letting all the heat out.” And as if on cure, he lit up, warmth erupting from him, his chest radiating heat into your hand and arm. “Thank you, Eris, I… don’t even know what to say.” You pulled your fingers away from his, taking the bunch of flowers in your free hand.

But you had to place the rolling pin down, having to set it on the table closest to the door. His brows rose. “Preparing for battle, I see.” He surveyed the white stone, nodding his head in approval when he heard the clang of the marble against the iron table.

You huffed a breathy laugh, ushering him inside and placing them in one of the empty vases from the bookshelf in the corner. You’d set it up on the counter, where everyone would be able to see the beautiful flowers Eris had brought for you. “I was hoping,” he began from behind you, hands shoved into his pants pockets, boot kicking at the thick grout between the stones on the floor. “You might let me help you this morning.”

You turned on your heel, spinning around so fast that you’d nearly startled the normally steadfast male. “You want to help me?”

He nodded. “I’m not very useful - I wouldn’t say I’m the best baker.” He held his hands up in surrender. “I used to help my mother bake apple pie but - ” he finished with a shrug, laughing through his own awkwardness.

You couldn’t stop your smile. “Of course you can, Eris.”

And truth be told, the male wasn’t bad. He’d kneaded the dough, he’d prepared the raspberry filling, and even mixed some fresh whipped cream. He’d followed all your instructions and even prepared you a cup of tea in the meantime, while you worked on your own dough at the opposite side of the counter.

You’d spent far too long watching his hands knead the soft pastry, his long fingers and large knuckles flexing as he pushed the dough around. He’d rolled up the sleeves of his linen shirt, forearms working with each move. You couldn’t help but notice the few missed buttons at the top of his shirt, pale collar bones peeking out. You’d made out some ridges over his skin, down his neck and tucked away underneath the fabric of his shirt. You couldn’t get a good look at it, not with the dimmed lights and loose shirt.

He made light conversation, asking about the town, who your favorite patrons were. You’d asked him similar questions, how he likes fencing and polo, he’d indulged you in some childhood stories of wrestling his brothers in the Autumn rain - how they’d tracked mud through the entirety of the Forest House. When it came to his parents, though, the topic was off limits, as he’d scoffed and asked about your parents instead.

By then, the hours had easily slipped past you - the pastries cooling after their bout in the ovens. Eris leaned against the counter, watching as you sliced the baked pumpkin you held in front of you, scooping the soft contents into a bowl to begin your filling mixture.

His eyes watched your hands work, unable to meet your eyes, afraid of your response. “I have a confession.”

You looked up only momentarily, not a stutter in the whisk as you continued mixing. “Confess away,” you replied softly, heart suddenly lurching into your chest.

He swallowed thickly, but raised his gaze to your face - your focused look - as you stared back down at the bowl. “I - last night after I left - there was a…” He trailed off, sucking in a deep breath. “I felt the…” Eris’s throat was closing. His heart was beating so fast, so hard, that he thought it would break all of his ribs. “I believe we’re mates, (Y/N).”

Your breath caught in your throat, suddenly all air evaded you and your heart seemed to stop. Mates? Mates? Gods, you knew you liked Eris - who wouldn’t? The male was beautiful and tall and kind and -

You swallowed hard. To hide your shaking hands, you continued working on the pastries. You kept you eyes sole trained on the table in front of you, fearful that if you looked up, if you saw those red eyes before you, that you’d surely crumble away in a fit of tears, laughter - you weren’t quite sure.

You were elated.

So fucking elated, in fact, that you didn’t know what to do.

But you didn’t respond. You didn’t make a move - not an eyebrow raise, not a quirk of your lips, nothing. “I know we don’t really know each other - I’ve wanted to stay longer, believe me.” The male rambled on, filling the silence you’d offered. “I just felt this thing last night after I left and it’s been eating me away since and I already knew that I cared for you so much and you’re so - fuck, so godsdamned beautiful but I - ”

You straightened, pulling your shoulders back and dropping the whisk. “It’s okay, Eris.”

His eyes widened. “It’s okay?” What the fuck did that mean?

You’d turned to grab a pastry off the rack - the one you’d kneaded, the one that turned out so much flakier and taller than his. “It’s okay.” You smiled, though, but didn’t falter in your movements, continuing to assemble what looked like a dessert sandwich.

He stared incredulously at you. “Did you… hear what I said?”

And so you laughed, a light giggle that had Eris reeling. You pushed over the pumpkin Mille-Feuille, nodding at him as he stared at it like it was otherworldly. “You told me one time you liked the pumpkin turnovers because it was your favorite Autumn Court fruit.”

The male was bug-eyed. “This is for me?”

You nodded.

“Just for me?”

Again, with a smile, you nodded.

Eris looked between you and the fluffy pastry. “For me?” He raised a hand and gestured between the two of you.

“Yes, Eris. I made you a pumpkin pastry. For you.” His cheeks tinged pink, but let out a breathy sigh of relief. You added for clarification: “Not on the menu.”

Gods, yes. It was the only thought running through his mind.

“And even in all that rambling, you haven’t asked me to be your mate,” you continued, voice raised an octave, teasing the poor nervous male. He opened his mouth to interrupt - to ask - but you cut him off. “I would love to be, Eris Vanserra.”

And while his heart rate didn’t slow down, he calmed, shoulders relaxed and eyes shut in relaxation. His hands fell to the treat before him, staring at the perfect little pastry. He could finally breathe again - as if in the past three minutes he’d been stilled, lungs, hands, and mind unable to work properly.

But Eris dug in anyway, picking up the soft treat like it was the most delicate thing in the world. He took a big bite, holding his free hand underneath, catching all the flakes that broke off, saving every bite. He chewed slowly, licking his lips to savor the pumpkin flavor and the light pastry. His eyes fell to yours, wide and wanting, watching you like a hawk.

You didn’t dare move, frozen in place as the male ate.

As the bond solidified.

As he became your mate.

By the time he’d finished, his breathing was ragged and he had to press his hands against the counter to keep his balance. You watched his chest rise and fall, the linen shirt loose on his frame but hugged his broad shoulders. Those red eyes burned into yours, as though waiting for you to make the first move.

Or waiting for your permission.

So you took a step backward, pushing yourself from where you’d been nearly clinging onto the counter, where it was holding you upright. And as soon as you’d freed yourself from the confines of the countertop, he’d pounced. Eris felt like leaping across the counter and pulling you into his arms. Instead, which might have cost his last ounce of decency, he’d taken the few long strides towards you and grabbed you.

To be fair, he was as tender as he could have been, what with his heart beating up into his throat and his lungs burning, winding his arms around your back, fingers gripping the cotton that hung loose on your frame. His head dipped, immediately catching your lips with his. You were quick to follow his lead, throwing your arms around his neck and rising on your tiptoes to meet him.

Gods, he was warm - it was all that you could think of. His heat spread into you, the physical heat, but also those internal flames, the warmth that formed in the center of your chest as the bond built itself between the two of you. Sparks sizzled between you, and you were sure you felt them when your lips met in a fiery kiss.

Your fingers threaded through your hair as his hands roamed your back. He tasted like cinnamon, like the pumpkin from your mating food, the burnt sage that mirrored in his scent, that filled the cafe as soon as he walked through the door.

“I don’t know anything about you,” you breathed, a soft sigh against his lips as his mouth skimmed your bottom lip, over your chin, down across your jaw.

He released something half crossed between a moan and a sigh. “We have time to talk about me,” he whispered against your ear, biting at your soft flesh. “Later.” His lips ran over your cheek again, and he left a sloppy kiss on your lips. “Much, much later.”

You hummed in response, pressing yourself to his front again, chest, stomachs, legs - all of it. Eris groaned, sinking down on his knees, stopping when he was eye level with you. His red irises burned with an eternal flame, burned into you with the promise of forever. He wrapped his arms fully around your waist, his elbows at your ribs and knees on either side of your legs. He tilted his head forward, only until your lips met, noses brushing against each other.

Your lips parted on instinct alone, the breath pulled from your lungs when his lips met yours - so soft, barely meeting at all. You could have cried, screamed, grabbed his hair and pulled him further against you. But all he gave you was a touch, so close your eyelashes nearly tangled. His mouth brushed yours again and you snapped - arms linked around him still, pulling him against you. “Upstairs?” You asked, fully against his mouth, the word muffled between your lips and heavy breaths.

He shook his head, still not breaking the kiss. His hands ran down the small of your back and over your ass, cupping the back of your thighs and pulling you upwards, setting you on the counter in front of him. Eris let his fingers find the hem of your nightgown, trailing over the skin of your bare flesh. You were burning hot, like you ran a fever at his touch. In the cold air, his touch sent shivers down your spine.

“I can’t wait, (Y/N).” His lips barely left yours. “I have to have you now.”

“Then get on with it,” you mewled, taking his hands in yours and dragging them up your thighs, under the gown. “I’ve been waiting far too long for this, Eris.”

You leveled his gaze - it struck quite the nerve with him, he never thought he’d succumb to an ethereal being like you, especially not to one he got to call his mate.

As his hands roamed under your gown, your own explored his chest, running over the lean muscle and pulling at the buttons. You’d pulled them apart one by one, eyes shut and mouth being devoured by Eris. He seemed to pay no mind, working his way to your hips, squeezing at your thighs. You opened the shirt and pushed it off his shoulders, breaking away from him momentarily.

And Eris felt it, felt it through the fresh bond between you. He felt your heart stutter, felt the shock that flooded your system.

His heart stopped, lungs held his air hostage.

And then you’d felt it - the utter disgust and shame that rang through him.

So you raised your hands, holding his jaw in your palms, brushing your thumb over his cheekbone - over the other faint scar that laced his skin. You weren’t sure what to say - if you should say anything at all. But he’d already noticed your surprise. That’s all it was - surprise, not in the hardened male before you, but at that any one male could endure that much pure trauma. You were not disgusted with your mate, not horrified at the scaring.

You we’re just… “What happened to you, my love?”

And he blinked a few times, turning his head in your hands and raising his own hands, holding your wrists in his palms. His throat worked, his mind rolling over the proper response. You moved your hands, dropping them down his cheeks, fingertips grazing the marred skin on his neck, the slashes over his collarbones and down the puckered skin of his chest. His hands remained on yours the whole time, feeling you work your way down his body.

My love. It made the fire inside of him burn brighter. He imagined you’d felt it too, felt the initial draw toward him like he did to you - even before you were mates.

“That’s a story for another time.” He whispered, gazing down at you from under his eyelashes. “If you’ll still have me.”

You were almost shocked to hear that - to hear him question your desire to be with him just based on his scars. You wouldn’t expect such doubt from him. So all you could do was sit up a little taller, pull you down to your lips and offer him the most reassuring kiss of his life.

He made quick work of your dress, unbuttoning the small row of buttons behind your back. You shimmied the dress from under you, where you’d been sitting on the soft fabric, and let Eris bunch it up and drag it up over your sides and arms. He slid it off quickly, discarding it in a pile along with his shirt. His eyes and hands roamed over you, exploring the curves and ridges of your body.

Your cheeks reddened, so exposed before the male you’d barely known, but longed for him to touch you. You’d thought of this moment many times, during those sleepless nights, some of which ended up leaving you with your hand between your legs.

Eris felt your blush through the bond, he felt your outright attraction, the desperation you had. And he knew he mirrored it through the bond, too. It’s what made you pull him back into you, until he stepped right up against the counter and the front of those trousers were pressed against your undergarment. He ground against you, unable to hold in the urge as the ferocity flooded his veins, the bond finally taking hold of him now that he had you laid out in front of him.

You moaned at the feeling, his hardened cock a tent in his pants, slotting perfectly between your lips. He moved up and down, gliding against the warm heat from your pussy, the smooth fabrics only aiding in his desperation - your too. Gods, you could have come from that alone should he only have kept going.

But the male wasn’t having it. He kicked off his boots and unbuttoned his pants, shucking both along your kitchen floor, discarded for what he hoped would be the next few days.

Eris’s cock bounced up against his stomach as he neared you, the precum gathered on the tip mixing into the fine pale hairs that trickled down his bellybutton to the base of his cock. Eris wouldn’t even touch himself, deciding it would be fucking ethereal, should you reach out and grab him.

And, luckily, you did, holding your hand out for him to step back into position. Your hand wrapped around his dick, fully hard and standing proud. You’d surely need two hands to work him properly, perhaps even your mouth, too. His skin was warm in your palm, hot and ready to combust as you ran your hand up and down, offering him a small squeeze as you neared the base, your thumb rubbing the tip when it slid up.

You couldn’t hold out much longer, either. You’d pressed him up right against your pussy as he just did, leaning back on your other elbow so you could further spread your hips. You held his cock with your other hand still, pressing it into your pussy. Eris began to rock, back and forth, back and forth, wincing at how wet your pussy sounded. His cock glided along your cunt effortlessly.

He braced a hand on the counter, on either side of you, and held his hips back. He let you continue to rub his dick as he leaned in close for a chaste kiss. He rubbed his nose against your ear, hot air stirring around you. “Are you going to let me fuck you, my love?”

You moaned - you’d heard many tales of the trickster male’s wicked tongue, but hadn’t been granted the opportunity to hear him use it around you. You were very much looking forward to exploring that side of him.

Gone was the chamomile drinking, flower giving High Lord’s son. This was Eris, hot and heady and ready.

His one hand moved over to hold yours, moving your fingers to grab his cock and angle it into you. You gasped as the head nudged your folds, pushing only the tiniest bit in. You clenched around nothing, as he rocked back and forth, the head moving against your entrance but not in. “Will you let me mate you? Fill you up? Claim you?”

“Gods, yes,” you moaned, trying to move off the counter even closer to him, to inch his dick farther into you. “Please, Eris. My mate - ”

You were cut off with a harsh gasp, Eris sunk halfway in as you rambled on. “Oh my gods - please.”

He moved slowly, warming you up to his length. “Still so much more for you,” he murmured, holding your hand against your lower stomach. He pressed it softly into you, around your soft flesh, so you could feel him enter in you as he pushed his cock all the way, bottoming out.

He held there for a moment, reveling in how you squeezed your walls around him. It was unlike anything he felt before. The roaring in his chest from the bond fed straight into his cock - willing him to drive into you over and over and over.

But as much as he wanted to hold himself back, he found himself moving faster and faster, hitting farther inside of you with each stroke. Your moans spurred him on - your gasps, your prayers to the Mother - to him.

Your hands fell around you, gripping anything you could find, looking to anchor yourself on something, anything.

“You feel so good, (Y/N).” He huffed, breathing becoming ragged as he fucked into you. “I can’t believe I’ve waited this long for you.”

His cock stretched you, the familiar coil in the bottom of your stomach already causing you to clench around him. “You have me, Eris, fuck.” He grabbed your hips, holding you still, driving into you harder. “Please, more, Eris.”

So he rutted into you, Eris hooked his knee onto the counter, pushing himself up, joining you on the floury surface. Your arms splayed out, knocking over bowls and eggs, ingredients falling to the floor and clinging to your sweaty skin. He hooked his knees around either side of your hips, positioning himself directly above you, driving straight down into your wet pussy.

He groaned - an estranged deep noise coming from the male’s throat. His one hand was positioned beside your head, holding himself above you - though, you wouldn’t care if that male suffocated you, if he laid all the weight he’d been holding all his life onto you - the other came to cradle your cheek, holding your jaw with his thumb brushed against your chin. Your breathing mixed with Eris’s, your shared air, heat, love. You sighed, feeling his cock drive deep into you, hit the deep spot inside of you - he stretched you, seeped into you, molded into you.

He fucked you so hard that you felt yourself moving, inching closer to the edge of the counter. Your hair fell first, starting to fall over your shoulders and off the counter. But Eris held your head, cradled you as you neared the edge, feeling your stomach coil at the rhythmic pounding in your pussy.

Eris didn’t stop until you came, until your fingernails dug into his biceps and you screamed his name. He followed behind you quickly, his hips snapping into yours until he painted you white, with his cum that marked the bond. He claimed you as his, and silently thanked the Mother for her blessing.

His bright eyes washed over you, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure, lips swollen and bruised from his kisses, crying out for him. He watched how our brows knitted together, your skin was flushed with a pink blush. He committed everything to memory, the heave of your chest, the sweat across your collarbone, your throat working to gasp air.

He pulled out of you, dastardly watching the mix of both of your cum slide out of your pussy. He longed to feel it, to drag his finger up your sweet cunt, to lick it up. He knelt above you, pushing himself off the counter and grabbing your hips, pulling you centered on the tabletop. You huffed a sigh, arms limp and covered in flour at your sides.

His warm fingers caressed your hips, your thighs, the muscles burning from being spread so wide. You dragged a hand over his arm, up his shoulder until you met the back of his neck. Your fingers brushed through the back of his red curls. “We made quite the mess.” You were tired, sounded so breathless - it nearly made Eris’s knees wobble.

He laughed, though, a hearty chuckle, quite proud of his creation. He surveyed the messy kitchen, in no shape to bake, to serve anything made from or around the mess that had become evidence of your mating bond. But after pressing a quick kiss to your forehead, the male was off, walked those long legs to the counter and scribbled down a note on a piece of scrap paper beside your recipe book.

Even his handwriting was beautiful. “Closed until further notice.”

He rushed back to you, scooping you in his arms, holding you tightly against him, even as you broke out into a fit of giggles.

“Now you can show me this upstairs I’ve heard so much about.” And you knew right then that you’d be riding the high of your mating frenzy until Eris had learned every inch of you.

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