written for @polysjmweek Day 2 (Climate) /// AO3 ///
Summary: Rhysand arrives stormy. Helion sends him home glowing—with something for Feyre to discover later.
CW: explicit smut, soft feelings under hard cocks, chaos but make it caring, feral!rhys, soft dom!helion, dirty talk, sloppy bj, hand job, implied anal, explicit plans for creampies, inappropriate use of cloth napkin, creative misuse of daemati magic, Thigh Lord Helion has a giving praise kink
“Which meat do you want first? Lamb or lion?” Helion gestures pointedly at the dining table, then his lap.
Rhysand chuckles without humor, a dark, roiling cloud peeking through the perfect composure. “I see the wining and dining is reserved for when Feyre accompanies me.”
“I’m giving you the choice. Because I know how skilled you are at smooth talking. At playing the refined prince when you’re brooding inside. At appearing cool even when your cock is hot and needy.” Sunlight glints off his crown as he leans back in the oversized chair at the head of the table. A god relaxing on his throne. “Sit or strip. Your pick. No magic.”
The carefully crafted expression slips from Rhys’s face, revealing a stormy one that looks much more honest. He unbuckles his belt with a jerk. “Lion it is. How’d you know I just want to fuck it out?”
“Because I know you,” Helion says, “and Feyre tipped me off about an incoming thunderstorm.”
Rhysand yanks his pants and underwear roughly down his toned legs, stepping out of them, along with his shoes. His dick is half hard, like it can already feel Helion’s warmth.
Helion hums in approval. “I much prefer it when you’re not hiding yourself from me. You—and your delicious cock—are always welcome. Rain or shine.” He slides back from the table, thigh muscles flexing. “Come here.” He pats his lap.
Rhys steps closer, tugging at the sheer black gauze of his shirt.
“On second thought,” Helion says, “leave that on. You chose that slutty little number for a reason, and I see exactly what you were hoping would happen. Did you think that see-through fabric would escape my notice? You wear it so well even my cock is sitting up straight.”
Rhys stills. A smirk creeps across his face when he notices Helion’s eyes on him. When the sunny male winks, he perks up, twirling seductively to show off the garment.
Helion seizes the opportunity to make his lover feel good and starts encouraging him enthusiastically. Before long, Rhys is posing like a model on a catwalk.
Helion’s prompting grows wilder and Rhys’s actions become bigger and more playful. The High Lord of Day’s sunny energy is infectious and soon the tattooed male is going all out: winking, flipping his hair, strutting his stuff.
He snatches a satin napkin and uses it like a feather boa.
“Feyre’s missing out,” Helion says, “Look at you, the High Lord of Night, positively beaming. Plus, you look good enough to eat.”
Rhysand pins Helion’s gaze as he ties the napkin in a bow around his hard dick. He hits his hands and knees and crawls between Helion’s legs, purring, “I’ll have that lion now.”
Helion captures Rhys’s jaw in his large hand, firm but gentle, leaning down to kiss him deeply. “You are divine. I look forward to seeing our High Lady’s reaction at our next daemati viewing party.”
Rhys growls low and hungry and starts sucking Helion through the white fabric of his robe, leaving a trail of damp, darkened patches.
Helion groans, then grips Rhysand’s hair and tugs the male off of him. Gold meets violet. “I love your feral streak.”
Helion strips down to his skin. Rhys’s eyes never leave his shaft, hard and thick, as he sits back down.
“Give it all to me, Rhys. All that raw hunger and power. Let it loose. I can take it.”
Rhys pounces.
With Helion, he doesn’t have to be neat and refined. Doesn’t have to hold back. He spits, sucks, and chokes himself until tears meet saliva.
Helion talks him through it. Praises Rhys’s rough edges and carnal urges. Wants Rhys at his most authentic, even when it’s imperfect.
Helion isn’t afraid of his darkness.
“You seeing this clearly, Feyre? The way your pretty mate sucks me down so well? This male was born to worship both cunt and cock. Look at the way the spit shines on his skin like stars. Look at how he doesn't just suck the cock, but enjoys every second his tongue is touching it."
Helion pets Rhysand's hair reverently and groans low. "Truly divine. As if his cock was the one being sucked." His chuckle promises mischief. "Don't worry. The legend behind the wingspan will be given proper attention."
Helion's hand fists firmly in Rhys's hair, gripping at the root. "I’ll send him home to you empty and leaking in all the right places.”
Rhys moans around a mouthful of Helion. His hips snap forward but find only air.
Helion reaches down and wraps his large hand around Rhys’s throbbing girth, stroking slow and steady. “Get started on emptying those balls for me. You won’t be leaving until I fulfill my promise to your mate. And that’s going to require a lot of releasing between now and then.”
Rhys thrusts eagerly into Helion’s fist, mouth vibrating against the other male’s cock at the pleasure.
“There will be no more brooding when I’m done with you, Rhys—not once I pump you full of my sunshine.”
Helion suddenly cups Rhys’s aching sack.
“I’m going to drain your balls until the only cum in your body is mine.”
My first modern AU ACOTAR fic for @polysjmweek! I wanted to highlight some of the difficulties people in relationships that don't fit the traditional binary face, and some of the ways they can be overcome.
Cassian and Azriel prepare to propose to Nesta, which forces them to face the reality of trying to marry as a polyamorous couple. They end up on a walk down memory lane trying to pick out the perfect ring.
Thank you to @jellybeanjellyfishblog for giving this a quick read and being so supportive! Read the complete fic on AO3 or find a snipped below!
The bell above the boutique jewelry store door jangled sweetly as Cassian and Azriel pushed it open. Cassian felt entirely too large to be such a small room littered with delicate displays and glass tabletops. He curved his shoulder in, trying to make his frame take up less space. Azriel instantly noticed and rolled his eyes at him.
“Come on, you’re being ridiculous.”
“What if I knock something over, Az? I don’t want to break anything!” Cassian hissed in a half-whisper as Azriel pushed him further into the shop, letting the door swing shut behind them.
“Then don’t break anything, Cass!”
“But—”
Az turned on him. “No buts. We’re doing this, and we’re doing it together okay?”
Cassian couldn't help the smirk that lifted up the side of his lips. “I love it when you get bossy.”
“I know you do,” Az responded, the feral glint Cassian recognized all too well shining in his eye. “So be a good boy, don’t knock anything over, help me pick a ring, and we can get home to play.”
His breathing picked up, chest heaving as Cassian tried to control his response to Azriel using those words on him. “You can’t do that to me in public,” he said, moving his hand in front of his obviously tenting pants.
Az leaned in to press a kiss to his lips. “I can, and I will. You love it.”
“I do,” Cassian responded with a smile, his lips brushing Azriel’s as he spoke.
Finish the fic here.
Let me know if you want on or off the taglist! @born-to-riot @chunkypossum @bubybubsters @queercontrarian @yams-77 @fieldofdaisiies @iftheshoef1tz @secret-third-thing @jules-writes-stories @the-darkestminds @climbthemountain2020 @amalhe-kofee @molcat07 @sleepyy-ollie @astra-aeterna @popjunkie42 @tegantales
This fic is back! So happy to be delivering the final chapter one year later for @polysjmweek. Thank you to everyone who has stuck around, I hope it lives up to expectations!
The ritual came to a head as Conleth and Fintan realized they’re both mated to the same female. As it continues, can Neve handle their fire, or will she melt beneath their flames before the bonds are complete? Or maybe it’s the brothers who should worry about the sting of Neve’s ice.
Thank you to @climbthemountain2020 and @lady-of-tearshed for supporting me through developing this fic and betaing the chapter! Read the full "To Become A Vanserra" series, start the fic from the beginning, read the new chapter on AO3, or find a snippet below.
His mind roared.
Conleth couldn’t think over the feral beat of his heart in his ears. Nothing existed outside the sight of his brother standing before his mate.
His mate. Not Fintan’s, his.
Conleth’s fingers tingles, flames pulsing through his body, begging to be released. They burned boldly, as his fire always did.
Before him, Fintan was nearly unrecognizable. His robe was askew, glasses slipped down his nose and barely in place as he stared his elder brother down. Though Conleth knew his younger brother preferred the earth magic he’d painstakingly learned to pull, fire burned at Fintan’s fingertips. The red-gold flickers shone with staggering brightness, heat reaching Conleth though he was still steps away. A growl ripped from his Conleth’ chest as Fintan took a step back. The move was protective, not avoidant, and his legs came in swift contact with the bedframe behind him.
Conleth’s nostrils flared as his eyes caught on the delicate pale fingers curling around Fintan’s thigh. His brother reached down and placed a possessive hand over hers, claiming and protecting.
Fuck. Conleth thought. What if he’s a better mate than me?
That was it—the thought that set him off. In his periphery, Conleth saw Lucien try and step forward. Before he could move very far, Eris, robe draped lazily over his shoulders but left open and untied, grabbed their littlest brother’s arm. A knowing look passed between them that Conleth barely registered. He was too busy moving forward.
Finish the chapter on AO3.
Let me know if you want on or off the taglist! @born-to-riot @chunkypossum @bubybubsters @queercontrarian @yams-77 @fieldofdaisiies @iftheshoef1tz @secret-third-thing @jules-writes-stories @the-darkestminds @climbthemountain2020 @amalhe-kofee @molcat07 @sleepyy-ollie @astra-aeterna @popjunkie42 @tegantales
Alright y'all, I'm ON MY HURT/NO COMFORT SHIT AGAIN. Heavy TW for this fic, but it slapped me in the face and demanded to be written. Feytamsand whump is on the way for @polysjmweek day 2 - Climate.
What if Feyre, Tamlin, and Rhysand chose each other? What if they raised Nyx together? And what if the pressure of all that they’d been and everything he’d survived was too much for Tamlin?
What if he stopped living.
And what if his loss is what forces Feyre and Rhys to face truths they’ve been too blind to acknowledge?
Title courtesy of Noah Kahan’s “Halloween”. This fic has one semi-graphic depiction of suicide. It is only a few sentences of the fic, and those sentences are not included in the WIP Wednesday snippet below.
The sarcasm in his voice cut like a knife, his eyes sharp and narrow as they glared at her. It was too much. All of this was too much, and Feyre felt herself snap. She stood too, the robe swishing around her feet as she screamed at her mate. “He left us Rhys! He left our child!”
“And we left him!”
Each word hung heavy in the air as they both stared each other down. The space between them could have easily been closed in a few steps, but to Feyre it felt like they were an entire world apart.
“What did you want us to do, Feyre?” Rhys’s lips quivered as he said the words, unable to meet Feyre’s gaze any longer. He looked down at the grey plush rug beneath them. “Give up our own Court? Watch him every hour of the day to make sure he didn’t hurt himself? We knew he was struggling, we offered support, we sent assistance. I can’t remember how many priestesses went to counsel him. What more were we supposed to do?”
“You pushed him too hard,” Feyre’s voice was soft, but the words were filled with accusation.
Rhys threw his hands up in the air, turning away from her before facing her once more. “You’re the one who ruined his Court!”
“You left him first, all those years ago!” They were both screaming now.
“He killed my mother! My sister! You have no idea what that’s like, Feyre.”
“He kidnapped my sisters and gave them to Hybern to experiment on, I think I can understand more than you might want to believe.”
The accusations hung heavy in the air between them. Feyre’s chest felt heavy and she breathed in and out, too fast and too deeply. She felt her lips tremble, her legs wobble, and then the hard floor beneath her knees. The sob that tore from her chest was a wild, feral thing. Everything in her screamed wrong, wrong, wrong.
