#winged fae

[lynfara]

Taking a little break from chibis. She's a Storm fae, leader and princess of the Storm Court trying to unite the 12 kingdoms after they fractured at the end of a war. He's a shadow fae, the last one and prince and demigod of the Shadow Court. He was cursed to forget who and what he was and to be the slave of his captor for a couple of centuries before she found him again.

[ichimakesart]

Could you help me find my shadow?

[lokinofurther]

A winged fae

A bit of prose from me, surprisingly has nothing to do with whump...but with the potential to be whumpy.  I do have to say that it is heavily inspired by @wildfaewhump and now I have this character (that I know very little about) bouncing around in my imagination. I do not know if I’ll go anywhere with them. But I had noooo intention of writing anything today, let alone put this character out. So we’ll see.

------------------------ Today I’ve been imagining a winged fae. I’m not even sure how their wings are, or what gender are. They’ve not told me yet. But this one is highly unusual, considering most fae. This one carries a sack, with thick leather gloves. And a small iron pick that is carefully wrapped.  This fae may venture close to caves and mines, not to deep, mind you. Even this unusual fae cannot stand the depths of a dark cave for long. But this one might delve into a deep crevice to find precious jewels and ore. It wears protective clothing, so none of the iron can touch it, while still holding the pick in its hands to pluck free the valuable material.  The fae’s home is equally unusual. It dug out its home out of a mountain peak made of Calcspar. Mind you, this fae’s home it technically at one of the highest peaks...or rather inside of the highest peak. How odd for a Fae to live IN the mountain, rather than on it.  This Fae cautiously hides its wings, binds it carefully with strips of cloth and dawns a cloak made for a child. It sling its heavy burden over its shoulder before delving into an even more dangerous place than skyless caves.  Human villages.  The Fae has  learned many mannerisms of children, so it is easier for mortals to make that assumption. And this little fae is able to sell its finds for good prices.  This Fae prides itself on its speed and the heavy strength of its wings. It must, to carry iron. Terrible horrible burning iron. But it is worth the money it earns.  This fae must have strength in its arms and legs, to grip to perilous holds in the crook and crannies of cliffs while it chips away treasured resources.  But this fae, despite its strength to carry burning iron on its shoulders. The bravery to delve into the black caves or near the darkness in the hearts of mortal villages. It cannot go home. What fae would be praised for pulling more iron out of the ground? What Fae would be willing to grasp it and carry it and to give it away to mortals who catch and snare others with the viscous bite of burning iron.  Only this one, this one that lives in the mountain than on it. This fae cannot go home. This fae must be alone. This fae, cut from the celestial lights in the deep blue sky, by the work of its own hands.  But why?  This fae has not told me why. They haven’t told me their name, or where their home lies. They haven’t told me the color of their wings, nor what they love and what they hate. They’ve told me nothing. But I’ve seen them soar and fly for hours on end, cautiously over seas, swamps, mountains and hills, in search of precious jewels. But perhaps...maybe they are searching for something else?  They haven’t told me anything. 

[monstersandmaw]

Male winged Fae x reader (nsfw)

Some of you may not have noticed the new addition for the higher tiers of my Patreon, but if you're on the Elves tier or above, you are automatically entered once a month into a prize draw for a 3k word story of your choosing.

This month, the lovely Jackal of Hearts won, and asked for our boy Ahrin from Winter Solstice (currently undergoing a re-edit) with a neutral reader, and added that nsfw is always fun. We had a discussion about Ahrin's story because dear Jackal didn't want to spoil anything for Winter Solstice, and knew that I had plans to reveal what happened to him and his once-lovely wings during the course of the story. We decided to go for a 'pre-Winter-Solstice' setting, when Ahrin is still with the Court of Shadows, and meets his reader at the Court of Fire during a diplomatic visit.

There are a few crumbs dropped in here for Winter Solstice too, and a cameo or two, but mostly it's the story of two people connecting in an unlikely situation and making the best of it.

Hope you enjoy! It’s been up on Patreon for about a week now, so it’s time to share it here.

Winter Solstice (undergoing re-edit, but story remains the same) can be found here: Part One (sfw), Part Two (sfw), Part Three (sfw) (All Tumblr links)

(reminder that in March, existing patrons will not be charged, and I do not plan to put out any new content for that month, but new patrons will still be charged for that month because that’s how Patreon works. Access to all my existing content will not be affected though!)

Enough waffle; more story! Wordcount: 5248

The Court of Fire turned out to be almost the opposite to what you’d expected. You’d imagined flame-blasted heaths with twisted stumps of heather curling like blackened fingers towards a sky choked with smoke, ash falling like tainted snow, basalt-dark rock and rivers of burning oil, with a cruel, volatile, fickle court of Fae to rule over the desolate kingdom. So when, at a mere eighteen years old, you had been led through a tear in the Veil between the worlds, quivering and trembling, with tears stinging on your cheeks, you had been surprised to discover a rich, verdant landscape, with fertile black soil as far as the eye could see.

Your second shock had come when a small party had crested the blustery promontory where the way through Veil was marked by two colossal standing stones, and you’d seen a group of riders approaching. The creatures they sat were nothing like horses. The lizards were as big as oxen, with wide, muscular bodies, slung low to the ground and with wicked, sickle-shaped claws and a spined tail.

Three of them drew to a halt at a short distance from where you stood beside the older woman who had been sent to fetch you as payment for a bargain made years ago by your parents. You had known about their bargain and had been prepared for this moment your entire life, and yet fear still coursed through you now that you were actually here in the Fae Realm.

Your guide leaned to speak in your ear, her ash grey hair whipping in the strong breeze, and whispered, “The High Prince himself has come to welcome you. Kneel as I do, and do not speak unless asked a direct question.”

Trembling, you sank to one knee and bowed your head as she did. The prince did not get down from his mount, but someone else did. Striding towards you, they addressed the woman beside you. “Is this the human that was promised to Lord Rhaziel?” The voice that spoke sounded male, and immensely frustrated.

“Yes, m’lord,” the woman said, nodding.

“Can you ride?” the Fae barked, and you realised that the question was directed at you. Risking a glance up, you took in the sight of the tall Fae and swallowed thickly. You’d heard that the Fae were enchantingly beautiful, but now that you had the opportunity to prove that theory in person, it was infinitely more intimidating than you’d realised. His skin was a deep, warm brown, and his long hair was tied back off his face and hung down his back in thick ropes, studded here and there with gold and amber beads. His eyes burned a bright gold, and you looked away almost instantly, afraid that he would take offence at your boldness.

You shook your head. You’d never been on a horse - let alone a giant lizard - a day in your life.

He sighed in frustration and said, “You will ride with me. Come.”

And with that he turned on his heel, the black and red robes of his courtly garb swirling slightly with the motion, and strode back towards a dark grey lizard who was eyeing him carefully. The older woman did not follow, but she did rise to her feet again. She, apparently, would walk with the rest of the guards surrounding the party.

As you passed him, you risked a glance at the Fae who sat at the head of the small group of reptilian mounts, and again saw nothing but beauty. He was talking with another rider who looked almost exactly like him, perhaps a little taller. The two of them were clearly related; probably brothers. With long, thick, red hair half tied back off porcelain faces, and bright gold eyes, they laughed jovially as if sharing a private joke, and even when the leader - who wore a golden crown of dancing flames studded with rubies - looked towards you, the laughter did not die in his face.

He bowed his head ever so slightly at you in acknowledgement, and his smile broadened a touch more. Above the high collar of his red and gold tunic you glimpsed a dark sigil etched into his skin and wondered what the tattoo meant. You offered him a shy smile, averted your eyes, and hurried to join the first Fae as he stood beside his lizard, looking impatient and thunderous. He said nothing as you joined him, but when you made no move to get on the frankly terrifying, constantly rumbling beast, he rolled his eyes and snapped, “Put your left foot in the stirrup and swing yourself up. I will sit behind you.”

“Oh…” you croaked. “Alright…”

The journey seemed interminable through the dense jungle that surrounded the base of the basalt outcrop where the portal between the realms sat. Your mount was third in the line, behind the High Prince and his brother, and the movement of the thing was enough to make you feel slightly seasick. Eventually the landscape dropped away to one side and you gasped as you saw a rocky ledge plunge down into an apparently unending sea of golden sand. At the foot of the dark cliffs was a wide, winding river, but beyond that, it seemed as though all life just… ended.

On the edge of the cliff ahead, with the wing which had some of the highest spires partly extending out into the empty air, a huge castle had been built. Even in the light of the midday sun you could see that the windows were glazed with red, gold and orange glass so that it looked almost as if the buildings were all aflame inside. The sight of it made you shudder, but the rider behind you gave no words of encouragement, and by the time the party drew to a halt in the colossal bailey of the castle, you were almost dizzy with fear.

At the party’s arrival, a small slew of attendants immediately scuttled out like ants from a kicked nest, and you noticed what looked like a wheeled throne being pushed easily towards the High Prince. You tried not to stare as you slid to the ground and turned to watch as his winged bodyguard stepped forwards, not to lift him down but merely to offer his shoulder for the Prince to brace against. He lowered his body down into the chair from his saddle with what had to be immense upper body strength while his legs dangled unmoving below. Once settled, he adjusted his weight and then caught you looking. You flushed, embarrassed by your curiosity, but instead of being reprimanded, you found that all he offered you was a wide, toothy - almost cheeky - grin before he pushed away towards the castle doors.

The Fae whose mount you’d shared was named Narrawaed, or Narra for short, and he turned out to be the personal bodyguard and attendant of the Fae two whom you had been promised in service, Lord Rhaziel. Despite your fears, you soon discovered that all you were required to do was assist the elderly Fae with his reading and academic studies, and after a year in his service, you came to regard him almost more like an uncle than a master.

Lord Rhaziel was the High Prince’s own uncle, and a trusted adviser at the court, so you ended up being able to attend a lot of the gatherings and events that the Court of Fire held at various times of the year. On one such occasion, the impending visit from a noble from the Court of Shadows prompted preparations for a lavish party, although the primary reason for their visit was diplomatic.

Rhaziel broke off from his research on the effects of lava-gnat venom on nerve pain one afternoon and looked up at you, blinking softly. For a Fae to look old, they must really be extremely elderly you knew by now. Rhaziel’s hair was white and a little wispy, tied back in the current courtly fashion and secured with a comb adorned with flames to mark his royal blood. His eyes had faded to a delicate pale gold now as his own magic faded. Apparently - if the extensive tattooing all over his neck and down to his hands was anything to go by (though the rest was hidden by his thick, silk robes and high collar) - he had been extremely powerful in his day. The tattoos helped to contain a Fae’s magic to prevent those with potent power from losing control. The High Prince, Jaehrin, was apparently the only person ever to have had more tattoos than Rhaziel did.

“Come, child,” Rhaziel croaked, pushing his chair back from his paper-strewn desk and easing himself to his feet. “Let us go and see how the preparations for tonight’s festivities are going.”

You nodded, not minding any longer that he still called you ‘child’. To him, you really must have seemed very young, you supposed, although you had been there for over a year now and were an adult by human standards. He meant it affectionately, and his eyes always twinkled kindly when he met your gaze.

You extended your arm to him and he took it willingly, using his silver-tipped walking stick in his other hand. His papery skin was flecked with age spots but his grip was firm, and the two of you made your way with familiar ease through the shadowy passages of the castle from his study towards the great hall.

The doors stood open and you gasped as you regarded the hangings that had been draped from the centre of the ceiling to railings on the walls and then allowed to fall in a waterfall of red and gold silk to the floor. It reminded you so viscerally of the maypole decorations in the village back home that it stole your breath away as you stared. You had been so transfixed by the sight of them that you hadn’t noticed that there was a small group of Fae in the centre of the room, and that their conversation had sputtered to a halt at your arrival. More likely it was at the arrival of the distinguished royal elder than you, of course, you realised as you turned to find them all staring.

“Shall we introduce ourselves then?” Rhaziel asked with a slight wink. “They look a bit star struck. I wonder if they’ve ever met a human before?”

You rolled your eyes, used to his teasing manners, and accompanied him closer to the strange group who were, you now saw, talking with the High Prince and his younger brother and sister.

Not all of them looked like the more ‘human’ High Fae; one was simply a writhing mass of shadows that constantly shifted and changed shape like ink in a stirred glass of water, and their voice was nothing more than a rasping of claws on stone as they spoke. Standing beside them was the High Prince’s bodyguard - and, some said, his lover - Garrad. The huge, hulking fae bore the sigil of an Ember Warrior, emblazoned across his otherwise unadorned tunic, and he stood on avian feet with enormous, black wings outstretched behind him.

A figure who looked a little like him - if only for the enormous pair of bat-like wings - was unfamiliar to you. His skin gleamed, warm and richly brown as if he spent a lot of time in the sun, and his face was sharply handsome and bore a rough-hewn kind of strength to his features. As his whisky coloured eyes landed on your face, they sharpened with interest, and his full lips murmured, “A human?”

Jaehrin laughed from his position in his wheelchair and said, “Yes. I have one or two in my court, Lord Ahrin.”

Ahrin flushed and bowed his head. “Forgive me for staring, Your Highness.” In apology, he tucked his heavy wings in tight and bowed his head. As he did so, his shoulder-length, brown hair fell into his eyes and he swept it back with a strong-looking hand. For some reason the sight of that simple gesture awoke something that had been dormant in you since coming to the Fae Realm, but you hid your reaction well while Lord Rhaziel was introduced to the remainder of the party from the Court of Shadows.

“I shan’t keep you,” the elderly Fae chuckled once everyone had been introduced. “I just wanted to come and see what was going on.” He turned to you and hissed in a conspiratorial stage-whisper, “I do still love a good party, even after all these years.”

His smile was infectious, and you laughed softly. The sound appeared to attract Ahrin’s attention again, but when you looked over at him, he had turned his head away and was speaking to one of the dignitaries from this court, a creature made seemingly of living rock who had always made you a little uneasy, like a statue come to life.

It wasn’t until the ball that evening that you saw Ahrin again.

You and Rhaziel were sitting at the side of the room on a deep, comfortable sofa, watching the nobility from both courts - and from one or two others, if Rhaziel’s comments were accurate. “That young lady is from the Court of Winter,” he said, indicating a beautiful blonde who was currently swirling around the dance floor in the arms of one of Jaehrin’s brothers. “Her adoptive brother is a terrible snob,” he added with a scoff. “Awful young man. Reserved to the point of rudeness, and a spoilt little brat if you ask me. The younger twins are delightful though… Finwe and Caedwyn…” his eyes misted over a little as he clearly thought fondly of the two younger princes of the Court of Winter.

“When did you last see them?” you asked politely.

“What? Oh… must be twenty years ago now. Oh look!” he exclaimed, suddenly digging you playfully in the ribs with a sharp elbow, and he nodded in the direction of the dance floor. “I thought someone was rather interested in you before.”

“What?” you chirped, confused, turning your head to see Ahrin smiling at you as he approached.

With what could only be described as a gleeful little cackle, Rhaziel dug you in the ribs once more and hissed, “If he asks you to dance, I expect you to say yes…”

You meddling old man, you thought amusedly. “Alright.”

Courteously greeting Lord Rhaziel first, Ahrin bowed low from the waist, glorious wings tucked as neatly out of the way as he could manage. Around the hook-like talons, the ‘thumbs’ of his bat-like wings, he wore an engraved, golden cuff, and his shoulder-length hair was half tied back and studded with small, spherical gold beads that picked up the colour of his eyes perfectly.

“My Lord,” he purred quietly to Rhaziel. “I hope you are enjoying the evening.”

Rhaziel shot you a sidelong look and snorted. “Not as much as I think you’d enjoy yourself if you were to ask my assistant to dance…”

Ahrin’s cheeks flushed attractively and he laughed. “Indeed.”

He turned to you and you swallowed nervously. Humans were not particularly numerous in the Court of Fire, and while you’d been treated with respect, as both the subject of an honoured bargain and the servant of one of the most powerful Fae in the Court, you weren’t exactly of any social standing.

“Would you me the honour of sharing this dance with me?” he asked, voice deep and gravelly. Ahrin bowed low again, and a dark, swirling mist began to coil around his polished boots and his wings, like morning frost evaporating in the sunlight.

Rhaziel leaned across and hissed in your ear, “I think he’s nervous. Put the poor boy out of his misery, eh?”

Unable to keep from chuckling, you nodded. “I’d love that. Thank you, Lord Ahrin.”

“Please,” he said as he straightened. “It’s just Ahrin.”

You took his hand and tried not to go weak at the knees when you felt the rough strength of his callused fingers. Gently, he drew you towards the dance floor as a new tune started from the minstrels’ gallery, and he began to lead you in the quick, energetic dance that followed. He held you firmly but not uncomfortably, one hand on your waist and one gripping your hand, as the two of you practically galloped along the length of the room. His wings didn’t seem to get in the way at all, and he must have been extremely fit because where the exertion left you flushed and breathing hard, he was barely winded.

Ahrin’s handsome face split into a broad, beaming grin and his eyes laughed too as he spun you around at the end and finally came to a halt in one corner as the rest of the room paused to catch their breath and applaud the musicians. “That was a tricky one!” he exclaimed. “I should have known they’d play that here! You did well though; did you learn our dances here?”

You nodded. “Lord Rhaziel insisted that I learn in case he fancied a turn on the dance floor, apparently, though he’s never expressed any interest himself in all the time I’ve been here.”

“Well,” Ahrin smiled, “I’m certainly glad he had you taught.” A moment later his expression turned a little thoughtful and he asked, “How long have you been here?”

You shrugged, following him as he led you towards the colonnade at the edge of the great hall which looked out over a balcony on the edge of the cliff. Cool breezes wafted in, making the oil lamps gutter and flare, but the air was welcome after the perfume and closeness of the dance floor. “A little over a year.”

“You’ve adapted well. Prince Jaehrin’s court seems generally fair though,” he added, almost wistfully.

Feeling a little emboldened, mostly by the fact that he still held your hand as you walked side by side into the cool night, leaving the music and laughter behind, you decided to ask him a question in return. “You’re originally from the Court of Shadows yourself, right?” You eyed his dark wings pointedly, though you were curious because he didn’t appear to have the avian legs of a Shadowborne like Garrad.      

He nodded, gaze turning distant as he stared out over the empty desert that stretched out below the castle on this side. “Mmm.” Offering you a cheeky wink, he added, “Royal bastard though, so I’m no one very important…”

“You must have been quite important to be asked to come along to this?”

“Touché,” he said. “I have some standing because of my blood, but no authority really. I’m more of an ambassador when Naeryn is busy.”

“Naeryn?”

“Prince of the Court of Shadows,” he said. “I’ve always liked it here though. Jaehrin’s…” he sighed. “He’s good.” The way he imbued the word with real significance made you nod in agreement. From what you knew of the High Prince of the Court of Fire, he was indeed good. Quick to laugh and quick to forget his anger, strong with his magic and generous with his friends, he seemed quite unlike anything you’d been led to believe was possible from the Fae. You had, of course, had some run-ins with one or two nastier Fae folk, but Rhaziel’s influence largely kept them at bay.

You looked up to find that Ahrin had gone from watching the view to staring at you, eyes dark as honey now. “What?”

He smiled. “I can see you weren’t expecting us to be like this when you first heard about the Fae…”

Shaking your head, you said, “No. And I’m sure that if I wasn’t attached to Rhaziel in some way, my experience might have been a bit different. I’ve seen the other humans here who prepare the food in the kitchens and work the gardens. Their life is harder than mine by far.”

“But they’re still paid for their work, and treated fairly,” he said bitterly. The sour note took you off guard and he elaborated. “In the Court of Shadows, it’s not so pleasant. What humans there are find themselves treated like livestock. Many of the creatures there feed their magic, their essence, on fear and darkness, and humans are so… emotional. They don’t last long.”

You shuddered, a thrill running down your spine and making your hair stand on end.

“I’m sorry,” Ahrin said. “I shouldn’t have mentioned it.”

“No,” you countered firmly. “I’d rather know how things are than be deluded…”

His attractive lips quirked into a soft smile. “I’ve not met a human like you,” he admitted. A refrain of music floated out on the air and he held out his hands again. “Another dance?”

Smiling, you accepted.

“How long are you here for?” you asked, somewhat breathless, half an hour or so later as the two of you still danced in private on the balcony.

His eyes were locked on your lips and for a moment he didn’t respond. “Hmm? Oh… a week. There’s the Equinox Ball coming up, and we leave after that.”

You’d almost forgotten about the significance of the Equinox Ball, which marked the turning point of the year where the Seelie and Unseelie Royals - who ruled over all of the Courts - exchanged their power. They wouldn’t attend this ball themselves, of course, but it was still held to honour their leadership and to wish them good fortune and wise rulership for the next six months of the year. The Courts would each take their turn to host a ball, and this year it was the turn of the Court of Fire. The Shadow Court’s visit had been tied into that to discuss business between the two courts which, apparently, were not on the greatest terms despite Ahrin’s opinion of Jaehrin.  

Ahrin stopped dancing and leaned a little closer to you, blinking slowly as if in a daze. He swallowed and you watched his Adam’s apple bob. “May… May I kiss you?” he asked in a hoarse whisper.

“Yes,” you smiled and he returned the gesture.

He brought his fingertips to your chin and tilted it up so that he could look at you properly first. Sliding his palm up your jawline, savouring the shape of you beneath his touch, he smiled and whispered, “You’re stunning…”

Before you could respond, he kissed you.

His fingers tightened and he tangled them in your hair, heedless of the mess he might make of it by scrunching it all up. He tugged you into the kiss, deepening it with a groan and you watched his wings slowly flex open, as if trying to shut out all the world around you.

Breathless, he pulled back a moment or two later and you saw how his golden eyes glowed, bright and glassy. His throat worked again as he swallowed and he blinked. “Save a dance for me at the Equinox Ball?” he murmured, thumbing a line across your cheekbone.

“As many as you like,” you laughed.

Ahrin’s answering deep, earthy laugh made the warmth inside you bloom to something fierce, but before he could kiss you again, someone called his name and he winced, wings tucking. “I… I have to go,” he said. “It’s one of the Prince’s advisers. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” you said, still feeling like you were floating. “Go.”

“At the Equinox Ball,” he promised, kissing your knuckles as he left.

You watched him go and turned back to the balcony and the desert below, heart pounding. Maybe it wouldn’t go anywhere beyond the ball, but you could enjoy it while it lasted, surely. Perhaps when Rhaziel decided he no longer needed you, you could go to the Court of Shadows and… Shaking your head, you instantly recalled what he’d said about how humans were treated there. No, that wasn’t something you could endure.

The sadness that pervaded your thoughts that week - even when you saw Ahrin around the palace from time to time - seeped deep into your bones. You played it off as just tiredness to Rhaziel, but when Ahrin swirled you round the dance floor for the second time at the Equinox Ball, he frowned, his thick, sculpted brows knitting, his eyes dark. “What’s wrong?” he asked, immediately sweeping you out of the dance and onto the balcony again. This time you didn’t have it to yourselves, but as he led you to the far end, you might as well have been alone.

“What’s troubling you so much?” he pressed, lifting your chin the way he had done the week before. This time, no kiss followed, only kindness.

You tried to put on a brave face, but his eyes were so earnest that you had to tell him the truth. “It’s so childish,” you hissed, half turning away.

Ahrin caught your hand up in his as you moved and squeezed. “Whatever it is, you can talk to me.”

Taking a steadying breath, you said, “I think I’m enjoying this too much.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” he asked, confused.

You nodded. “You’re going back tomorrow, and I’m staying here. I can’t go with you.”

Ahrin’s expression shattered, and you realised that he hadn’t even thought of that. “I… I can… I could come and visit you,” he ventured, though even as he said it, you both knew it couldn’t happen.

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you said gently. “It’s alright… You’re probably destined for more than me anyway.”

He growled, low and deep as a wolf, and you jumped in surprise. His wings flexed behind him, like a swan preparing to beat the absolute crap out of someone, and you began to giggle at the thought. “What?” he snarled.

“Easy,” you said, still chuckling. “Let’s just make the most of tonight then.”

His warm eyes went wide and he leaned forward, seizing your face and drawing you into a passionate kiss that left you dizzy. “Yes,” he said. “Come with me.”

Ahrin led you through the castle towards the guest wing, and none of the guards stopped you as you followed him into his private apartments. A fire was blazing in the grate, and spherical glass lamps had been lit all around the room, each one glowing like rubies in the sun. His quarters were lavish, but you had eyes only for him.

His jerkin was laced up the back to accommodate his wings, and he spread them wide for you to undo it in a gesture that struck you as incredibly intimate. He shivered as you brushed your fingertips against the ‘shoulders’ of his wings where they melted from dark, leathery brown into the smooth skin of his tanned, muscular back. There wasn’t a mark or scar on his body, save for the odd freckle here and there, and as you let his jerkin fall to the ground, he turned carefully and you saw that the hunger in his eyes had grown.

Ahrin took his time undressing you, and when you stepped out of the last of your clothes, he let out a shaky breath, jaw slack, eyes glassy, his pupils blown wide. “Stunning,” he murmured, repeating his compliments from the last time as if in a kind of prayer. “You’re stunning,” he breathed.

He lingered, kissing down your neck and letting his fingers caress your hard nipples and his hands wander until you felt lax and pliant in his arms. Leading you to his bed, he laid you down and began to worship every exposed inch of you with his mouth and his hands, leaving you a gasping, shaking mess.

“You’re still… still wearing too much,” you managed to whimper when he’d brought you close to orgasm twice in a row.

With a wry grin, he nodded and shucked off the rest of his clothes, freeing his impressive, erect cock. Pre-come wept and beaded at the head and he took himself in his hand as he leaned over you on the bed, one knee on either side of your legs. Lowering himself down, he ground his body slowly against yours until you were both groaning and trembling.

“I want to mark you,” he growled, mouthing at your neck and collarbones as he picked up his speed. His wings stretched back behind him, occasionally twitching. His cock was slick against your hip as he rutted against you, covering you in his pre-come. “You’re already going to smell of me, but… can I…?” he asked, nipping you more forcefully.

You nodded, and he instantly closed his mouth to your collarbone, sucking a deep, dark bruise there. The moment he leaned back and admired his work, his wings extended wider than the width of his huge bed, and he moaned, “You look so good like that…”

“I’m yours, Ahrin,” you whimpered, shudderingly close to your own peak as he ground himself repeatedly against you. Your hands clutched at the sheets beneath you and you begged him to come as you bucked up against his weight. “Please… come over me…”

His eyes flared bright with magic and shadows began to coil around your legs as he lost his tight control on his powers. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you, and as the gentle, velvety darkness wrapped around your senses, it felt like another caress. “I’m so close,” he whimpered as he worked himself rough and fast. “Fuck… I’m…” and a moment later his hips spasmed and he emptied himself all over your stomach.

Ahrin’s wings flared impossibly wide, the membrane becoming almost translucent as it stretched to its limits as he came with a bellow, mouth open, eyes rammed shut, head tipped back in ecstasy.

A moment later as you finally came as well, his strength failed him and his muscular supporting arm buckled. He toppled down on top of you and the two of you lay panting and twitching together for a long time.

When he finally caught his breath, he pushed himself up off you, groaning at the mess he’d made of both of you. He drew carefully back and got to his feet. From where you lay, dazed and spent on the bed, you watched as his wings sagged, as though the weight of them was finally too much for him after his earlier exertions, and observed how the tips dragged on the floor as he paced unsteadily over to an adjacent room and disappeared.

The sound of running water reached your ears not long afterwards, and he reemerged again, still naked, but a little cleaner, and carried your limp body towards the bath. Steam billowed into the air, fogging the mirror and condensing on his long, thick eyelashes like morning dew on blades of grass. He lowered you into the water of the enormous, black stone bath - which was more like a pool - and stepped in after you. With care and gentle attention, he washed you clean, lingering where you were still sensitive until you were arching up into his touch and hissing his name.

“Ahrin…”

“Mmm?”

“Make me come again?”

He kissed you and adjusted the movement of his hand a little, making you cry out, though the sound was muffled by his lips against yours.

“And again,” he said, kissing your neck and leaving another bruise not long after.

You moaned.

“And again,” he added, biting gently at your collarbone. “And… again…”

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Other Fae Realm Stories

Prince of the Court of Night x female reader *commission* (nsfw) Part Two (nsfw)

Male winged shadowborne fae (Shaer) x female reader (nsfw) *commission* (long!)

Male reptilian fae (Adan) x female reader (nsfw) *commission*

Male triton Fae (Kaerio) x female character (sfw) *commission*

—

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[ashintheairlikesnow]

aranyhíd (hungarian, n) - “the golden bridge”; the reflection of the sun as it shines on water

CW: Mind control, magical compulsion, kind of hints at pet whump

Exists in @wildfaewhump's Iesin and Talvos universe.

Tagging: @astrobly @burtlederp ​, @finder-of-rings ​, @slaintetowhump ​, @quirkykayleetam ​, @whumpallday ​

Calon Nie's yellow eyes glinted, gleamed, shone like strange lights on a deep still pool. They settled in his face, behind his eyelids, and Killan could still see them - feel them - even in his sleep.

Watching, always watching him.

He had thought his eyes were stars, at first, but he could tell now he got that wrong.

Calon Nie's eyes were something worse. Will o'the wisps to lead men off trails and to their deaths. Siren-song from beneath the waters of a lake. They caught him, again and again, as soon as he felt some hint of unease do more than flicker underneath the soft weight of obedience.

"Buachaill del," Calon Nie called to him. Pretty boy. He knew the words now in the fae's sibilant tongue. It passes for a name.

Killan wanted his own name-... just once-... but he didn't have it here, either.

He moved as though his legs were someone else's legs. Pretty boy, puppet on strings, watch him dance to the fae's song.

Calon Nie loved to sing.

He loved to see Killan dance, too.

"Yes?" He dropped to his knees before the winged fae, who watched him with a hint of amusement in deep yellow eyes. In the dark woods they glowed, slit-pupiled, as much demon as bird and man combined.

Killan used to think people made the horror stories about the fae being monsters up.

Now he knew better, because it wasn't just a story at all. Not for him. Not now.

"Mine," the fae reminded him, was always reminding him. "My boy. Calon Nie's human. Want wings clean, me. You do."

Killan shuddered - he hated the softness of the fae's wings under his fingertips, at odds with the life he was trapped in, now. "Calon-"

"No argue. Clean wings now, you, or punish."

Killan shoved himself to his feet. The yellow eyes locked on his. Reflections of a monster's attention, cutting as deeply as any knife ever could.

"Clean wings," Calon Nie repeated. "Happy to clean, you. Happy to serve."

There was nothing different in his voice. There was no resonating echo, only the gentle insistence of the command as it settled into Killan's mind.

When he moved behind Calon Nie, he was smiling.

He loved the feeling of soft feathers between his fingertips. He loved everything he did for his fae.

Because his fae told him to.

[vengefulwitchling]

L is healing from a broken rib

I was sitting in my car before work kind of zoning out when I was listening to a song idly wondering about L. I heard a groggy "You rang..?" Accompanied by a visual of him in bed in a dark room with some light coming from the door. "Did you just wake up? How are you feeling?" I ask. "Yeah I did. Sore but almost healed. P has me under quarantine and house arrest.." he sighs sitting up slowly and grabbing his side. "Oh no. Woe is you. How sad." I reply sarcastically. I get a small glare. "Do you need anything?" I offer with a chuckle. He blinks a little and swirls the liquid in the cup before replying, "No P is worse than a doting mother but at least R brings me snacks." 

"That's nice of her." 

"Yeah.. I didn't realize how great they were.." he says looking at the cup.

"You should hang out with them more often." I reply. "We should, you mean." He quips. "Yeah.." 

A few minutes go by and I'm walking in to work when I see him with a fresh tea and see a blurry P walking out of the room. "He keeps giving me this herbal tea.. says it 'will help'. I think he's full of shit." He's eyeing the teacup with heavy suspicion. I laugh as he takes a sip. "It might help! You never know!" 

"I think he spikes it with sedative..." He sighs taking a sip. "It's probably the only way to keep you compliant." I smile

[ashintheairlikesnow]

balter (v.) - to dance artlessly, without particular grace or skill but usually with enjoyment

(Killan Josta exists in @wildfaewhump‘s Iesin and Talvos universe)

Tagging Killan’s crew:  @astrobly @burtlederp ​, @finder-of-rings ​, @slaintetowhump ​, @quirkykayleetam ​, @whumpallday , @whumppsychology, (if you would like to be added to an OC’s tag list, please send your request via an ask! Those are easier for me to keep track of and I tend to lose requests in comments, reblogs, tags, or PMs!)

CW: Mind control, magical compulsion, brief hinted-at upcoming potential gore, kind of pet whump in that Calon Nie basically thinks Killan is a sentient prey animal he owns now

Calon Nie could not dance.

Killan was making a list inside his head - the only safe place to keep such a thing, even though he was pretty sure Calon Nie couldn’t read or write in any human language - of things Calon Nie couldn’t do. 

He could fly, he could make Killan do or feel whatever he wanted - even if there was always some dim scream in his mind that reminded him that he had a mind, and Calon Nie never kept it forever. He could light a fire with a hissed whisper to a green twig, he could lurk unseen in the branches of trees, dive for prey from the sky like a stone dropped from a great height at immense speed, bashing into deer and rolling them dead before they hit the ground, tearing into them with his talons and teeth and then hauling back what he didn’t need for Killan to dress, cook, and eat himself.

He stared at Killan with those unsettling yellow eyes, slit pupils widening with an occasional fascination that was even worse than his usual focus. He could, he said, speak to stars. He knew more about the world than Killan did, or at least he knew more about the skies above it.

In the mountains, he said, there were more like him - many more, and more powerful. Killan shuddered in terror at the idea of meeting any fae who had more control over him than Calon already did.

No fear, you, Calon Nie murmured when he saw the tears glimmer as tracks down Killan’s cheeks. He did not command it - only suggested, ran his knuckles down Killan’s face, talons carefully turned away. No fear. Buachaill del is Calon Nie’s human. No one hurt you but me.

Killan was not reassured.

But beside his list of things Calon Nie could do, Killan was also keeping a list of things he couldn’t.

Top of the list? Dance.

Calon Nie liked Killan to show him human dances, but having to balance with his wings threw him off the steps. He did them anyway, his screeching inhuman laughter-sounds echoing off the trees, startling birds away into the air. Killan watched them go with envy twisting dark around his heart.

If only he could fly-

But no, Calon Nie had wings. Daydreaming about flight wouldn’t mean anything like escape, not now.

So he kept in his mind the list of things Calon Nie could not do.

He couldn’t dance.

He couldn’t make Killan think new things, not forever. 

He was scared of humans, no matter how derisive he acted about them. He avoided any hint of human habitation with his captive in tow, sent Killan for supplies with money he stole from the murdered bandits that had been the closest Killan had to a family.

He couldn’t go back to his family or into the mountains, although Killan didn’t know why. He wouldn’t say, only that he would only go home when he had an offering.

He couldn’t dance, he couldn’t go home, he couldn’t make his captive human love him. He couldn’t take Killan’s mind away from him forever.

But he-

He could-

He could keep cutting those things, those symbols, into Killan’s skin-

He could take Killan’s mind for a while. He could twist his heart with jealousy and fear. And he could swear, day by day, that one day Killan would hear the starsong and never want a human mind again.

You show me dancing, Calon Nie said, And I show you how to see starsong, to fly.

I don’t have eyes like yours and I can’t learn to fly. I don’t have wings, Killan said, lips barely moving.

Calon Nie’s eyes had spat reflections from the fire. You will. I give you wings, one day. I give you fae eyes.

Killan had asked, how? with his heart in his throat.

Calon only smiled, with all his sharp teeth, and began to dance again.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

serein (french, n.) - the fine, light rain that falls from a clear sky at sunset or in the early hours of night for whoever!

Tagging Killan’s crew:  @astrobly @burtlederp ​, @finder-of-rings ​, @slaintetowhump ​, @quirkykayleetam ​, @whumpallday , @whumppsychology,

Killan exists in @wildfaewhump‘s universe!

“Sun is star,” Calon Nie said, his tone one of a teacher trying to maintain patience with a particularly stupid pupil. “Sing, me, to sun-star. Sun is star.”

Killan looked at him blankly, and offered back, “The stars only come out at night. The sun is during the day. It can’t be a star. Are you saying the moon’s a star, too?”

“Paugh! No!” Calone Nie rocked back on his heels, his wings rustling in agitation, taloned fingers digging sharp claws into the dirt between them. He calmed only when Killan cringed back from the implicit threat, when a smile twitched across his face. “Scare pretty boy?”

“Um...” Killan’s voice faltered. “A... a little.”

“Good. Now listen, you, to Calon Nie. Listen better this time.”

At the cave’s entrance, a fine, soft rain fell, hardly more than a speckle of mist, like standing close to a waterfall, the sunlight yellow-gold from the growing sunset, casting rainbows through the rain if you looked just the right way. Inside the cave, protected from the elements, Calon Nie and Killan sat with Calon Nie’s catch nearby, ready for Killan to skin and cook it for them both. 

First, though, the lesson.

Calon Nie sighed. “Sun is star, buachaill del. Stars have songs - sun has song. Sun must be star. Moon is dead thing, not star. You feel, yes? You feel that sun is star?”

Killan slowly shook his head. “I don’t think-... I don’t think humans can feel the things that-”

monsters-

“-fae can feel.”

“No. Cannot. Is true.” Calon waved a taloned hand towards Killan’s face, and it took all of Killan’s strength not to flinch back from those sharp clawed fingers that could rip his throat out with the barest push. “Dull as rock, you. Dead to starsong. But I think I fix.”

“You... fix?” Killan’s stomach flipped. This couldn’t be good. “You fix... me?”

“I fix,” Calon agreed, solemn-voiced, solemn-faced, but his inhuman yellow eyes crackled with good humor. “I teach you to hear starsongs.”

Killan swallowed around a lump of fear in his throat. “Um. How?”

Calon glanced outside, at the rain, and he smiled. His sharp sharp teeth, fangs made for rending fur from skin and digging into the soft bits beneath, glinted. “Not sure yet. Will find out. Maybe need new blood, new ears, new mind. Calon Nie’s human will learn starsong. Or die.”

Killan pressed his lips together to hold back the whimper that threatened to escape.