you’ve got daddy autumn 🍂👑 feeling mean 😈🥀 and keen 👀🔥 send this to 5️⃣ other WICKED blogs 👩💻🖤 before midnight 🕛🌙 strikes or Beron Vanserra 😏✨ won’t ❌ punish 👋😳 you tonight 💋🫦🤭
Jokes on you I am one of the spam message creators so I AM IMMUNE TO THIS.
Baby's first X Reader fic! This fic takes place within the TBAV universe, but you do not have to have read the series to enjoy this installment. This fic takes place before the events of "Tastes of Desire".
Featuring Beron Vanserra X FemSpringCourtEmissary!Reader (AKA @nocasdatsgay, who this was written for). Written for Day 4 of @sjmxreaderweek: villain/hero. But is Beron truly a villain here? You decide...
Rating: Explicit
WC: 3893
Beron’s son won’t approve the trade treaty you’ve proposed to help bring prosperity back to the Spring Court. He warns you that it’s dangerous for female emissaries to meet with his father, but you demand to do it anyway. Anything for your people after all. But you couldn't have seen this coming, and you’d never expected to enjoy it quite so much…
Thank you to @climbthemountain2020, @secret-third-thing, and @daycourtofficial for your help with this fic! Divider by @strangergraphics.
Explore the full "To Become A Vanserra" series, read the fic on AO3, or read the full fic below the cut!
The halls of the Forest House echoed as you walked through them. You were nearing the center of the house, where the trunk of the tree grew through it. Beside you walked Fintan Vanserra. He was Autumn’s emissary to Spring, and as Spring’s emissary to Autumn, you worked quite closely together.
Fintan had always been kind, if not quiet. For some reason he always kept his quill between his teeth during your meetings, and it made you laugh. But you’d never tell him that. Though you were from different courts and spent every meeting at odds, you’d come to like the third eldest Vanserra.
Though he understood your point of view, and wanted the best for you, there were certain things he could not budge on. And you refused to take that as an answer, so you’d requested to escalate the situation. He’d tried multiple times to talk you out of this meeting with his father, but you were too headstrong.
The High Lord wouldn’t give in this trade treaty, and neither would you. It was too important for your people, and you know the Autumn Court was just being stubborn. So you’d demanded to see him face to face.
“Hey,” Fintan said beside you, to call your attention. You looked in his direction and noticed his hands clasped behind his back, a single unruly curl dancing along his forehead as he walked. “It’s not too late to back out, you know.”
Letting out a polite though frustrated sigh, you responded. “Fintan, there’s nothing you can say that will make me back out of this meeting now. I will not be cowed by any man who thinks he can tell me what to do, especially when it affects my Court.”
“That’s ‘Emissary’ to you,” the male joked, and you pushed him sideways with a small smile you couldn’t hold back playing across your face.
“I’m serious.” Your heart began to pound harder as you felt the air growing thicker around you, Fintan had told you to expect this feeling when you got near the center of the house where Beron’s office was.
“I know you are. That’s what worries me.”
“Well, I’m not worried.”
“You should be.” This voice was colder than his brothers, almost like ice.
“Hello, Conleth.” You inclined your head to the second eldest Vanserra brother. He controlled the Winter Court border so you didn’t see him often, but he and Fintan were the closest in age of Beron’s sons, and they tended to gravitate to each other whether they liked it or not. “To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence?”
“Fin here told me you planned to confront father about the trade treaty he refuses to sign.”
“It’s not my fault I can’t approve her conditions,” Fintan defended himself, crossing his arms before leaning against the base of the tree. You hadn’t even noticed you’d reached it. “She’s asking for too much, and she knows it.”
That comment made your blood boil “You know that’s not true. My people need this.”
“But do you deserve it?” Conleth asked, eyes dark in that way of his. He never quite seemed to thaw, despite the fire raging through his eyes.
“Con,” Fintan growled.
“No, she needs to understand what she’s asking for.”
“What I’m asking for is—”
“That’s not what he means.” Fintan cut you off. He never cut you off, always waiting until you finished your impassioned tirades before responding with empathetic logic and reason. Your back straightened, something in your mind telling you what you’d hear next would be incredibly important, and maybe not something you want to hear.
But it was Conleth who spoke, not Fintan. “Do you know why none of the courts pick female emissaries to work with Autumn?”
A lick of flame began to slither out from under the door behind Conleth, and Fintan’s eyes widened.
“Con, look.”
Conleth did, his eyes going even closer even as the fire within it grew. “They don’t come back the same, springling. Think about what you’re about to do.” Without another word, the second eldest Vanserra stalked away.
You turned to his brother, long pale green skirts swishing around your ankles quick enough to tangle. “What does he mean, Fintan?”
“The same thing I’ve been trying to tell you for weeks. Magic prevents us from saying any more, Beron has too many safeguards in place to protect his secrecy. But please, I’m begging you to reconsider one last time.”
Did these males truly believe you weren’t strong enough to face their father? You ran your hand thoughtfully down the light pink flowers embroidered around on your corset bodice. You had considered this decision. Was it truly wise to confront the High Lord yourself? You were only one person, after all, and considerably young by fae standards. But still you’d acted as Emissary to your court for years, Tamlin trusted you to help him rebuild the lands destroyed in the war.
It had taken you so long to prove yourself to males—you’d been doing it your entire life. They constantly undermined or belittled you, not believing a female could handle the position you’d worked your way into. But you hadn’t gotten this job for your looks or status or family. You’d truly earned it and you belonged there. This felt like your last trial, facing Beron and proving that you could be everything Spring needed you to be. There was no more to consider.
“I’m doing it.”
“And there’s nothing I can say to convince you not to?” Fintan’s voice sounded truly worried, and you appreciated that the males cared, but you didn’t need it.
“I think you’ve said it all already, and none of it has worked yet. So no, Fintan. I’m doing this.”
He slumped back against the trunk of the tree once more, his hand running over the rough bark like it brought him comfort. “Then I’ll wait here for you. A female shouldn’t be here alone.”
You started to become angry. Did he truly think you were just any female? Or that all females needed to be coddled?
“I’ll have you know that I resent your insinuation that I require your protection.” Vines began to grow from the space in the floor the tree grew through. It wasn’t often you show your power, but Fintan’s actions had proved a demonstration necessary. All at once, they snapped against Fintan, pressing him against the tree so tightly he couldn’t move. “I’m quite capable of taking care of myself.”
His eyes widened, that curl on his forehead even more unruly in his panic. You smirked, and released him, your vines receding down into the ground from whence they came. “I expect you have better things you can be doing than waiting for me to finish a meeting. When we’re done, I can see myself out. I don’t expect to see you again today.” The last words were said as a threat, insinuating that if you did see him, Fintan wouldn’t like the consequences.
Without giving him time to respond, you turned toward the door you’d seen the flames under and knocked brusquely three times. A deep, caramel whiskey voice sounded behind it. “Come in.” You didn’t let yourself reconsider, only took a bracing breath and opened the door to Beron’s office.
He sat behind his desk, elbows perched atop it with his fingers steepled together. The fireplace behind him was nearly the size of the wall, and the flames filling it framed him like the villain most people deemed him to be. His brown eyes bore into you expectantly, but there was a darkness in them that made your stomach flip.
Swallowing dryly around nothing, you decided not to waste any time. Walking to the front of his desk, placing a hand atop the rich mahogany, you spoke with all the command you could muster.
“I’ve come to negotiate a trade treaty between our courts. Your son continually refuses my requests, and I’ve decided to bring my case to you directly.”
“Is that so?” Beron asked consideringly, cocking his head slightly to the side. “At least I know Fintan has been doing his job.”
The male stood then, and his frame was much larger than you expected. The maroon shirt he wore was so dark it appeared nearly black. The sleeves were rolled up his forearms, the collar slightly open around the strong muscles of his neck. You could just see the flecks of salt and pepper chest hair peeking out, and it made you wonder what else might be beneath that shirt.
Walking around his desk, Beron spoke again. “Did my sons happen to tell you why you’re the first female emissary to my court in decades?”
They’d tried, but no, they had not. And you didn’t want either of them to get in trouble. You knew the kind of punishments Beron doled out to his sons. “No, they did not.”
A wisp of flame from the fireplace shot out, wrapping itself around Beron’s arm like a pet snake. “My flames tell me they attempted, but did not succeed. So I'll choose to believe you.”
You stood still as the male approached you, heart beating out of your chest. He towered over you, the waist of his black pants coming almost to the cinch of your corset. From behind you, his hands reached out and gently grabbed your upper arms.
It made you jump, and he held you tighter until you slackened again. Something told you to give in, to let him touch you. And another something even deeper rather liked his intensity. His fingers began to play with the gauzy material that draped around your arms, falling off each shoulder like a dream. “These are such a tease, you know. I’ve never been one for light colors, especially pastels, but I’m coming to rather enjoy them.”
You felt something building, hot and heavy in your gut. There’d only been a few other times you’d felt that with a male. There had been someone, once. A lesser fae you’d met in the gardens. He’d swept you off your feet and you’d given yourself to him, letting him take your innocence. But he was too sweet, and you too busy. It had ended amicably many years before, and you’d been left with just your hands since. The male behind you was nothing like him.
“There are no female emissaries, little flower, because everyone must pay a price to speak with me. And the price I demand of the fairer sex is quite different from males.” Beron’s finger was now tracing lightly up and down your arm, before trailing across your collarbone and dipping slightly lower the the décolletage pressed up by your corset.
His voice lowered, and you felt the words he whispered against your ear more than heard them. “Are you willing to pay that price?”
Your entire body shook in his hold, goosebumps raised on your skin as your toes curled in your tightly laced boots. There was no confusing the ‘price’ the High Lord wanted to demand from you. Were you truly willing to do anything for your court?
Yes. The answer in your mind was instant. And you knew that even though this was a price you were willing to pay, there was something dark in what he insinuated that you craved, something that young sweet boy from Spring had never been able to offer you.
One of Beron’s hands tightened around your arm, the other tracing closer and closer to the heaving swells of your breast. “I need to hear you say it,” he whispered before nipping at the point of your ear. “I might be a monster but I won’t be your villain.”
The way the word “monster” rolled off his tongue had your entire body shaking. Wasn’t that what you’d craved, what you’d been missing in your former partner? The touches were too soft, too nice. You wanted to be taken.
Being a strong female didn’t mean you didn’t want to be put in your place, given the right place and time. The feelings weren’t mutually exclusive. And something told you, maybe the Mother, that this was the right place and time. So you swallowed, tongue running along your needy lips, before stating one word. “Yes.”
Before you could understand what happened, your hips were pressed against the hard edge of the desk, gasping on an inhale as a strong body pressed against your back. “That’s what I like to hear, little flower.”
The hand that had been exploring your décolletage before moved to your back, pressing your chest to the desk. You gasped again when your skirts were pulled up, tossed over your back like it was nothing to reveal your most private parts.
A strong hand stayed on your back as you felt the man behind you bend down. You heard his strong inhale while his nose brushed against the line of your panties. As you’d walked, they’d climbed further up your ass. He groaned, and you felt it against your damp sex, making your pussy clench in anticipation. “You smell delectable.”
His finger traced the lacy edge, sliding just beneath it. “These are mine now, little flower. It’s part of the transaction.”
You couldn't fight the moan that slipped from your lips when Beron’s finger dipped deep enough beneath your panty line to touch your center. Though your mind was trepidatious, your body was ready and awake. You’d needed for so long, and now you might just get what you’d been waiting for.
“Don’t move,” Beron whispered in your ear before pulling back. He took something from the desk, you couldn't see it but you heard the slide of heavy metal against wood. Next you felt the cool slide of a knife against your thigh. Panic spiraled down your spine, but it was unwarranted. The blade sliced through the side of your panties on one side then the next, leaving the fabric unbound but stuck between your legs.
You heard the knife clatter against the desk beside you, and tried to turn and look, but the hand at your back kept steady pressure, holding your chest against the desk. The more you tried to squirm, the more he pushed down. Your hands scrabbled for purchase, the knife having rattled you more than you anticipated, but all that resulted was you pushing things off the desk to the floor.
Then something was moving between your legs. You gasped in alarm and then moaned into the sensation. Beron dragged your ripped panties from between your folds slowly, the fabric running against your clit as it moved. The sensation was intense as the lace scraped along.
You tried to reach back and grab Beron’s arm, but you couldn’t get to him. Then the sensation of lace against your softest skin was gone. A slight gust of smokey wind brushed against you, indicating just how exposed you were.
The wrist you’d stretched toward Beron was suddenly caught in his grasp. You tried to turn toward him, alarm flooding your system, but then the pressure was gone from your back and your other wrist was held in his hand.
“What are you—” you started to ask. As nervous as you were, the heat between your legs continued to grow.
“Close that mouth, little flower, or I'll give you something to put in it.” The heat in Beron’s words went straight to your center. Though it was a threat, all you felt was want.
Scratchy, damp lace wrapped around your wrist and you rubbed your thighs together, feeling the bite of the table’s edge at your hips. It didn’t take long to realize what he was doing. The High Lord of the autumn Court had tied your wrists together with your own panties.
You whimpered, the sound a needy keen and a nervous tick at the same time. Beron leaned over you, pressing your hips so far forward your toes barely touched the ground. You were completely at his mercy. And though your socks came to your thighs and you still wore your dress, you’d never felt more naked.
“Now let’s see what you’ve given me to play with.” The words skated down your spine. Beron’s chest pushed your crumpled skirts against the back of your corset, making it difficult to breathe. Or maybe that was his fingers, trailing from the tops of your socks up to your ass. They found the slick that had gathered between your legs, giving away your arousal.
The High Lord’s knuckles brushed through your center, the barely there pressure against your clit sending you shaking again. But the gentle caresses didn’t last, and a moment later two fingers plunged deep into your sex.
You gasped, arching up, though Beron didn’t leave you much room to move. “There it is,” his voice crooned in your ear as his fingers brutally thrust in and out. “I knew I saw some of myself in you.”
“What do you mean?” You were breathless, mind racing at the thoughts his words provoked.
Beron slid a third finger into you and you whimpered. “Some things you learn from experience, little flower.” His breath was hot on your neck as he forced in a fourth. You cried out, the invasion now too much.
Feet scrambling against the floor, bucking against’ Beron’s chest on your back, you tried to get away. He simply held his fingers in place, rubbing ever so slightly against the tender front of your channel.
“Breathe,” Beron commanded and his voice felt like flames. But you listened. What else could you do, bound as you were? You noticed the fire in the hearth begin to pulse, growing and receding slowly in time with Beron’s breath. You matched your own to their cadence.
His fingers continued their small movements, and you relaxed around them. Your hips stopped trying to move away and started trying to press into his fingers, needing more sensation as release continued to build.
Once again you couldn’t take it, but instead of the feeling being too much it was too little. You whined, searching for more. Beron chuckled against your neck, the sound smooth and smokey. “Alright, little flower.”
Then his feet were between yours, nudging your stance wider and bracing your hips wide. He pulled back, removing his fingers. Their absence was instant, but before you could complain, something hot and hard replaced them.
Beron pushed into you without fanfare, and you gasped when you felt him brush against your deepest parts. Even with four of his fingers you hadn’t felt so full. And the heat. There were rumors that Autumn Court males fucked like they had fire in their veins, but you hadn’t expected it to feel like you were full of flames.
The High Lord began to move, thrusting in quick, deep strokes. It was as if the flames in him were transferred to the fire building deep in you. Before you, the fire grew, flames beginning to snake across the floor toward the desk as Beron continued to fuck you from behind.
You didn’t know where to focus—everything was burning, the flames delicious from every angle. It consumed you, and all thoughts escaped your mind.
Beron’s hands grabbed your panty bound wrists, pulling you slightly off the desk. It pressed your stomach deeper into the desk, and you could feel his cock so deep it nearly brushed the deep mahogany beneath you. The sensation had you moaning.
“Such a good girl, taking my cock so well.” His thrusts quickened, and he asked, “Will you take my cum just as well?”
“Yes!” The word was shouted from your mouth before you could consider the implications. You weren’t on any tonics, and you knew how this might end. But the thought of his cum filling you as you felt his cock pressing into your cervix awakened a need you’d never expected. “Please.” The second word was quiet, a desperate request from an inexperienced female.
“Fuck,” Beron exclaimed in response, the word a groan. You felt his hand slide between you and the desk, reaching for the apex of your thighs. He continued to thrust hard and deep, though the strokes stuttered. When his fingers found your sensitive bud he said, “Come with me, little flower, help me fill you.”
All it took was a vicious thrust with a circle of pressure from his fingers and you detonated. That fire it seemed he’d fucked into you exploded inside your gut and your entire body went rigid. Beron followed you over the edge, and you felt him pulse deep within you, his hot cum filling you completely.
You were gasping for breath laying over the table, aftershocks rocking through you from head to toe. Beron pulled out slowly, untying your hands and pulling your skirts down over your ass. You could already feel his cum beginning to leak out of you. The sensation was new and exhilarating.
Shifting back slightly, your feet found solid ground, but you didn’t have the strength to pull your chest off the desk. Beron now sat before you at the desk, in the same position you found him when you opened the door what felt like days ago, but had only been a few minutes.
Your cut underwear were in his hand. Beron caught your gaze, leaned forward, and smelled them like they were a bouquet of flowers. “You’re delicious, little flower.” He opened the top drawer of his desk, and you spotted a mixture of silk and lace in a variety of colors.
Eyes wide, you realized those were all panties. Used panties if the addition of your cut pair meant anything. He closed the drawer before you could ask further questions.
Finding your strength, though the orgasm still made you shaky, you stood before the desk. Beron’s cum leaked down your leg faster, soaking into the top of your socks. You tried not to shift, but couldn't prevent it. Beron gave you a smirk, as if he knew exactly why you were unsteady.
He sat back, folding his hands over his lap, his shirt once again neatly tucked and pants fastened. “Now, let’s talk business.” His eyes dipped down to your center, where you could both smell his scent mixed with yours. “Unless you’re too distracted.”
You glared at him with narrowed eyes. He would not win. Folding your hands delicately in front of your embroidered corset, you cleared your throat primly. As you described the treaty, you didn’t miss a beat, voice staying strong throughout.
The High Lord didn’t agree to all your conditions, but he conceded more than Fintan. When the meeting ended, Spring once again had a trade agreement with Autumn that would benefit both their people, and hopefully help you rebuild your court.
Giving a slight curtsy, your thigh still slick with his cum, you thanked the High Lord for his time. When you reached the door to leave, your hand already pressing on the handle, Beron spoke.
“Do let me know if you wish to return, little flower. My drawer could always use another donation.”
The thought of meeting him again had you growing slick from more than his cum. Maybe you’d have to write up another treaty to propose. Without a word, you left the room and headed back to Spring.
Let me know if you'd like 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
omg. I’ve gone down a crackfic hole. can you do a beron x reader on calanmai??? (pls no noncon) can’t get him outta my head. thhhhaaanks!
The sound of drums filled the air, beating in time with your heart as you turn and turn around the bonfire, lost to the music and the dance. Its heat washes over your skin, banishing the night chill, beckoning you closer. As it always has. Tonight, however, is particularly intense. It pulls you, a tug between your ribs, reeling you into its orbit.
And does not let you go.
Around and around, you spin and sway, lost in the magic of Calanmai until strong, weathered hands catch you by the waist, pulling you from the flames. Breaking its spell. Your fingers catch on a fine, velvet jacket the color of bloodwine. That string between your ribs pulls taught, and you look up, peering into the dark, wicked eyes of the High Lord of Autumn.
"What are you?" He asks, more growl than question. You know, you know the you're lost in belong to your mate. Your mate. "Answer me."
"Yours," you answer simply because it's the only thing that feels true. What is a name in the face of a mating bond? The night spins around you, a blur of flame and darkness and rapidly beating hearts, but you've never been more still. More certain. Something torn between horror and delight flickers in the depths of the High Lord's brown eyes, something twisted. Something vile.
But you can't pull away, wouldn't if you could. He's wicked and cruel, but he's yours. He's yours. The bond pulled taught between you is just as much of a leash for him as it is for you. A vicious smile lights your features the moment you decide to wield it.
I commissioned this piece of sexy Beron from @dawneternal and it came out beautifully. It is my official submission to be in Beron Fuckers Anonymous please accept this offering I will humbly wait the council’s decision
I actually commissioned this before all of you coordinated and saturated the sexy Beron market. There’s no point there I just wanted it to be known.
Anyway, happy thotsgiving to all who celebrate but especially to the biggest thot of all @secret-third-thing 🦃🍆🫦
Summary: In the beginning, there was - something. Amren doesn’t know for sure; she was barely more than mist threading through some desolate forest at the time.
Notes: Sometimes, you just gotta write the weird stuff. Please mind the tags before you read! Unless you’re like me circa 2015 and reading Teen Wolf fanfiction when suddenly…there’s piss kink on your screen on your commute to university. Happens to the best of us. That’s why this fic is for @born-to-riot, because she knows that feel all too well. I told you I’d write piss kink that would make you feel things!
Written with the unending support of @acourtofladydeath, @secret-third-thing, and @queercontrarian, who also wrote their own Beron shenanigans for “Fuck It We Nut November.” Special thanks also to @yanny-77 for looking things over as well, and again to LD for the beautiful Canva banner.
Nesta was still furious after the High Lord's Meeting in ACOWAR. Beron had taken his entourage and run back to the quarters Thesan put aside for them. Needing some closure, she went after him. What she found was not what she expected.
Thank you to @iftheshoef1tz and @queercontrarian for talking through the idea with me, and @secret-third-thing for your editing and beta help.
Read a snippet below or the full fic on AO3. Be sure to check out the rest of the collection as well!
Nesta fumed, rage eddying off her in almost imperceptible silver waves. Even since the meeting, she’d been on edge, mind reeling over Beron’s comments. The way he’d described the Beddor’s demise, using it against Feyre as if she had set the fire and tortured Claire herself. And the way he had degraded Cassian as if the Illyrian weren’t twenty times the male Beron was.
When the High Lord had winnowed his party away, his eyes had found hers, just briefly. A flicker of recognition shone in his brown gaze, enough to set Nesta on edge. She’d said her piece then, but it still wasn’t enough. Nesta wasn’t sure what would be enough. Her feelings about Cassian and her sister were still so inherently intertwined she couldn’t separate the two. What she did know was that she wanted time to sort through the mess of emotions both members brought forth in her mind. She was desperate to understand how they felt about her, how she felt about them, but the impending war and her new body had taken preference.
What Nesta did know was that she would not stand for someone else speaking ill of either person. She dared not look too closely at the fact that Beron’s comments about Cassian had cut her more deeply than those about her sister. Her descriptions of Cassian’s worth to the High Lord had been the best defense she could muster at the time, but it wasn’t enough.
She needed to do more to defend the High Lord’s General, to make sure that Beron knew just how vital he was to—no, she would not finish that sentence. Running from her feelings and toward his defense, Nesta set off in search of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.
Read the rest of the fic on AO3!
Please let me know if you would like on or off my taglist! @pippsmcgee @born-to-riot @chunkypossum @bubybubsters @queercontrarian @yanny-77 @fieldofdaisiies @iftheshoef1tz @secret-third-thing @jules-writes-stories @the-darkestminds @amalhe-kofee , @molcat07 , @climbthemountain2020 , @the-darkestminds
we have some beron content coming up. actual drop date is a surprise, but you are NOT ready for what you're going to read.
I'll be sharing this on my main account and reblogging here, so if you want to be first to read a true spooky (maybe horny) beron tale, let me know. (I'll add you to the Beron tag list)
my last contribution to @sjmvillainweek, inspired by the great @secret-third-thing !
Rating: Mature
Word Count: 5,234
Description: Beron finds himself in an unfortunate and distinctly juvenile predicament. Stuck in his bathroom, unable to get work done, his mind gets away from him as he gives in to his bodily desires.
teeny tiny snippet below the cut! thank you so much to the mods for putting on this event, it was a wonderful experience!!
Beron gripped the edges of his sink, staring down despondently at the tent in his pants. He couldn't tell if it was a trick of the mirror's reflection, or if he truly was that hard. In the middle of the day. One that he had not planned on spending stiff as nails.
Every day was wholly dependent on his uninterrupted focus as he worked tirelessly to retain his seat on Autumn's throne. He quite literally could not afford to waste time tending to something as utterly stupid as an erection.
He rarely got hard when it wasn't from deliberate, intentional stimulation. And if it ever came about unplanned, he would simply use his wife for what she was gifted to him in the first place. It would be a wordless, loveless act. Complete without much sound from either of them, save for the szush of the bed linens as he delivered short, sharp thrusts into her.
On the rare occasion where she would be unavailable to him, Beron would simply wait it out until it went away on its own. He had his opportunity to indulge in self-pleasure in his adolescence, but that was a time long gone now. He often got more work done than usual waiting it out anyway, drowning the juvenile need in paperwork. Male arousal was unnecessary to him—nearly as worthless as that of the fairer sex—outside of the drive it offered when producing an heir. But Beron already had an heir. Four, in fact. He had no use of sex anymore, and the fleeting pleasure it occasionally brought was beneath him. Merely a distraction, a mindless act for mindless people.
But, for the first time in his long life, Beron feared he was becoming just that.
A/N: I couldn’t do all of villain week but I whipped this up joking about Nesta planning to kill Beron but she forgets cause he fucks her brains out. Anyways Beron does not make it at the end of this fic. You’ve been told.
Tags: @mybestfriendmademe @thisblogisaboutabook @hieragalbatorixdottir Divideer by @tsunami-of-tears
“It’s Autumn Tradition, bound by magic.” Beron said, his expression mostly blank as he explained to Nesta and Eris what to expect on the wedding night. “Archaic but still tradition.”
Nesta furrowed her brows, glancing at Eris. “What of the Lady?”
Beron answered first. “You are not the first bride I’ve been forced to entertain. She’s had centuries to cope.”
Beron watched his son take her hand and squeeze it gently. Disgusting display of weakness.
“The magic doesn’t give a choice, Nes,” he whispered to her. “Right father?”
“Correct.” The lie fell from his lips with ease. “I’ve spent centuries trying to undo it. I have yet to have any luck. I promise Lady Archeron, this will be more unpleasant for me than it will be for you.”
She lowered her gaze. “I understand.”
Beron smiled, magic binding between them with her acceptance. “Go and enjoy the rest of your day. The wedding will be over soon enough and we can put this behind us.”
🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁🍂🍁
The next evening, Beron watched his son’s new wife dance across the floor, unable to turn away from the display she and his son were putting on. Despite her unfortunate perigee, she was captivating. Nesta Archeron was born human but he could see she was meant for this life of a high fae. The cauldron had chosen well.
He ignored his wife beside him, her sorrow perforating the air around them. She was always dramatic. He didn’t understand her current grief. She had never cared who he bedded. He never cared who she bedded until the stupid slut got pregnant with a bastard child. That male’s bastard no less. Beron took a sip of wine to calm himself.
Sometimes he wished he’d killed her and the babe in her womb centuries ago. The embarrassment alone was enough to warrant it. But he was merciful; just like he would be tonight. Applause erupted as the song ended. He clapped and watched Nesta’s slim figure get twirled about by his son as the band started again. Her sultry silver eyes found his while they danced to a slower song.
He would definitely have his fun with her.
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Beron left the party first.
Tradition was he would wait in his chambers to give the court time to wind down. It was also to save the embarrassment of the bride leaving with the High Lord. He changed into a robe; there was no sense in being fully clothed when Eris brought his bride in. Beron would pretend to be sorry but in truth he took great pleasure invoking this right as High Lord.
He was but a simple male after all.
He poured himself a drink while he waited from his personal locked cabinet. He contemplated sitting when a knock came to the door. He swirled his drink once and downed it. It made him chuckle as he sat the glass back down. Someone, be it Eris or Nesta herself, was eager to get this over with.
“Enter,” he said loudly.
Beron absolutely hated the way the door creaked open and Nesta slipped in. He hated that slip of a gown she wore- Night Court fashion. It covered her body but what good did it do if he could see her tight waist and slim hips silhouetted in the silky white fabric. He felt his jaw tick as she stepped forward.
“Don’t you look lovely,” Beron glanced over her again quickly. “Would you like a drink for your nerves?”
“No,” Nesta said flatly, sharp eyes narrowed on him. She crossed her arms against her chest, increasing the lift of her breasts.
He frowned. “Just because you are my son’s bride does not excuse you from manners. You will address me as your High Lord.”
She scoffed. “No, my High Lord. I do not want a drink. I want to get this over with.”
“Then turn around.”
He stared and watched as she furrowed her brows. She hesitated, confused for a moment before turning her back to him stiffly. Beron raised a brow. He’d never seen a female fight the magic before. He walked up and traced his fingers along her neck and down her spine to the start of her dress.
“What have you done to me?” She whispered.
“I did nothing.” He began to undo the buttons of her dress. “We made a deal in my study yesterday. I don’t fuck unwilling participants.”
He finished with the buttons and pushed the gown down. It slid off her gently, pooling in a pile at her feet. He traced the muscles of her back with his finger tips. She was well toned; probably the Night Court beast's doings. His gaze lingered on her silky white undergarments. With a wave of his hand, he removed them and banished her undergarments to a pocket realm.
“What did you do? Those are mine!” Nesta turned to look at him.
“And they’re mine now.” He grinned. “I only get you once. I need something to remember you by.”
She scrunched up her nose at him but didn’t remark further. Beron noted didn’t hide herself from him as she faced him fully. Not a maiden then. He should have known a female from the Night Court wouldn’t be pure. It didn’t matter; it was too late to back out. She waited while letting him take in her figure. She was stunning.
“Get on the bed,” he said with feigned indifference.
With an air of defiance, she walked over to the bed. Nesta got on her hands and knees, stopping to look over her shoulder.
“How would you like me, High Lord?”
“On your back.”
She had the audacity to pout at him. She moved about and laid back on the bed. Beron embedded the image of her sprawled out on his duvet. He didn’t take off his robe when he joined her. She reached for the belt on his robe but he swatted her hand.
“You do not touch me unless I say you can.”
She looked up at him from her lashes and bit her lip like a whore. “Yes High Lord.”
He sat up and undid the belt on the robe. If he had his way he would bind her with it. Her eyes roamed over his body and he sneered at how she licked her lips.
“What am I to do with you?” His own gaze dropped down to her breasts. They looked so heavy with their puckered nipples begging to be lavished. “Do not move until I tell you to.”
She nodded wordlessly. He crawled over her and hovered above her. The rules did not allow kissing. He could fuck her to his completion once. When he withdrew his spent cock was when it was over. However, Beron was old and he’d pushed the boundaries of the magic enough to know the loop holes. He reached out, dragging a finger along her collarbone then reaching out to cup her breast. They were bigger than his wife’s. Prettier too. Nesta gasped when he palmed at it. The way he wanted to grasp it harder- squeeze it tight in his hands while she moaned.
Instead he leaned down and took the other with his mouth. She mewled when his tongue and thumb flicked at the soft buds. He sucked and her hips jerked. He pulled back to see his work- her nipple hard and fully peaked. The dark skin around it glistened with his spit. He leaned back in and kissed the skin between her breasts. Her scent was sweet and thickening with arousal; he moved down a little and groped both breasts. He kissed and his fingers worked her nipples. Nesta was breathing heavily but without complaint.
“Good girl,” he murmured.
He finally let her go and moved down the bed, positioning himself between her legs. He wrapped his arms around her thighs and he could smell how badly she wanted it, the fucking whore. He did his best not to roll his hips into the mattress like a youth.
“What are you doing?” She whispered.
“Did you think I would be cruel and just take what I had to from you?” He held her legs open and kissed along her pelvis. “I’m not an uncivilized male, my Lady. I do believe in a female’s pleasure when she’s earned it.”
He looked down and spit on her cunt. He enjoying the way her legs jerked in his hold and his saliva slid down her folds. She inhaled sharply when he leaned down to lap it up. He had a weakness for good pussy, and the smell of her alone was making strain in his underpants. A low rumble escaped his throat at the taste of her.
He dipped his tongue down to the wetness at her entrance and hummed contently. The Law of Magic didn’t allow him to kiss her on her lips. So instead he worshiped her cunt. He got lost in the taste of her, lightning jolting down his spine at the idea of smelling those under things later. She was the perfect mix of sweetness and musk that drove him insane.
He kept his hands on her thighs while she squirmed under him. Her soft pants and cried music to his ears. He groaned, dipping his tongue in and out of her; he mouthed and sucked on that taunt nub peeking out between her folds. He hadn’t even realized she came until he felt her hands pushing at his head. He stopped immediately, snatching her hand and sitting up to glare at her.
“I didn’t say you could touch me,” his voice was colder than he truly felt.
He knew she was a defiant one. He wanted to see what she would do. Nesta was panting, cheeks and chest flushed a nice pink.
“It was too much,” she whispered.
“Was it?” He dropped her hand. “A pity. l don’t care.”
“I just wanted-.”
“I don’t care what you want. You are mine until I am done with you.” He yelled and slapped her cunt hard, hand stinging. And she moaned like the whore she was. “Behave and I might let you cum again. Do you understand?”
She nodded with no fear in her eyes. He grinned and shrugged off his robe while she watched. Her eyes widened with lust and he sneered. Females were all the same, eyeing his cock hungry with want as he took off his own undergarments. The things he wanted to do to Nesta- bind her in fire. Stuff her mouth so her cries would be muffled. He wanted to fuck her throat where she laid so badly his cock wept at the thought.
She was lucky he was restricted by magic.
He positioned her how he wanted her and she let him. He pushed her back on the bed, lifting up her legs in his arms. He looked between them and committed to memory how pretty her cunt looked, begging to have a cock put in it. His hard cock hovered in front of it. He wanted to smack her cunt with it but refrained from such juvenile antics. He let go of one of her legs to stroke himself with a groan.
Another deep rumble left his throat. He lined himself up and pushed into her. It gave him a thrill to know she was too tight to have been bedded by those night court beasts with wings. He moved her legs onto his chest, throwing them over his shoulders. Beron decided he would take his chances trying to breed this female below him. She’d make a strong heir; stronger than that boy waiting outside the chambers.
She didn’t speak when he placed his hands on the headboard to steady himself. Then the first rock of his hips made him let out a shaky groan. The warm, tight grip around his cock felt like a blessing from the mother. A sign. She reached up and held her own legs steady like a seasoned slut.
“You must be a witch,” he whispered, staring down at her. “For your cunt to feel like a maiden’s.”
She flushed and averted her eyes. “Does it displease you, High Lord?”
“That you’re a whore?” He pulled back and slammed into her. “No. Makes you easier to fuck.”
Beron didn’t do much more talking after that. He found his pace, enjoying the feel of her until he couldn’t take it anymore. He normally rolled over by now and made the females do the work. But the sight of Nesta below him was too much. He pressed her legs back further with his chest, driving down into her with the slapping of skin echoing in the room. He hadn’t felt this type of frenzy in centuries.
“I’m going to fill you up, girl,” he grunted and she cried out. Her cunt squeezed his cock and gods he was close. “You’d like that, you fucking whore. You’d like to bear me a bastard, wouldn’t you?”
“Yes,” Nesta’s hands abandoned her legs and reached behind her, digging her fingers into the pillows. Her eyes fluttered as he kept hitting that spot deep inside her. “I’ll do whatever you want, High Lord.”
He growled, grabbing her by the neck with one of his hands. “Then cum on my cock, you stupid slut.”
He could feel the fire in his eyes flare as he used his high lord powers to command her. Beautiful creature that she was, she screamed, her back arching and she throbbed around him, pulling him in as deep as he could go. He let go of her neck, to grab the headboard again and slammed into her one last time with a bruising force. He damn near choked with pleasure as he emptied himself inside her.
He rolled off of her panting. He hadn’t fucked like that in decades. She, too, laid beside him catching her breath. After a few moments, he went to tell her to leave but she sat up moving over him. Some of her hair was loose, framing her face nicely. Her eyes were blown with lust as she placed a hand on his chest.
“Can I?” She asked.
Beron narrowed his gaze, uncertain of what she was asking. She bit her lip and gently drug a nail on his chest. Then she flattened her hand and drug it down while she slid down his body. She kept her gaze on him when she grabbed his spent cock and licked the head of it. The muscles in his leg twitched. When he didn’t say anything she continued. He watched her lick the cum off his cock until he was hard again. She kept those sultry hard eyes on him and took him into her mouth. Magic made it so he couldn’t fuck her again until she left the room are you done but nothing was stopping her if she wanted to continue to whore herself out to him.
“What a needy little bitch you are,” he muttered.
They both moaned as she took him down deep into her throat. He cursed again, both amazed and annoyed at her lack of gagging as she continued to bob her head and stroke what she couldn’t take. He grabbed her by the hair and shoved her down just to make her gag. The sound made his eyes roll back and he let her go.
“Stroke me until I cum on your face.”
It wasn’t a command; he just wanted to see if she’d actually do it. And fuck, if she didn’t look like goddess pulling back with her tongue out as she stroked him. He came again, painting her face and tongue.
“Beautiful,” he muttered. “Put your dress on and get out.” Nesta blinked in a daze. “Get. Out.”
In shock she stumbled off the bed frantically looking for her dress. Her compliance amused him. She was not as strong headed as she seemed. He watched her, scowling as she used the skirt of her dress to wipe off the cum on her face. She struggled with the back, and he rolled his eyes.
“Today girl. Out!”
She started and abandoned her efforts. He chuckled as she scurried out like a little rat, leaving him to think about how he was going to get his hands on her again.
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Nesta stumbled out of the room, thighs and face still sticky and dress half done up. How had Beron of all males been the one to fuck her stupid? She forgot where she even was, focused on leaving the room because he told her too. The door shut and she found Eris was scowling by the sofa. His eyes and hair were glowing, anger showing itself in the flames.
“I understand,” she said, breathing heavily. She looked back to the door dazed. “I understand now why there are seven of you.”
“Did you forget something?” He hissed.
Her cheeks flushed as she turned back to Eris. “He took them. I didn’t have a choice in the matter but to walk out in just my gown.”
“He’s alive Nesta.”
“Oh. Right.” He didn’t mean her under garments. He meant the deal they made. She furrowed her brows, unable to focus with her core still aching between her legs. “Gods, do you all fuck like that?”
Eris let out a growl. “Go bathe. I’ll do it myself.”
Eris would deal with her and the Night Court after he became High Lord. Nesta was lucky they didn’t make a bargain over this. He pushed all thoughts away, letting his rage take hold. He pulled a dagger out from his pants leg and threw open the door. He found his father, naked, laying on the bed. He averted his eyes, focusing on the bed frame. He scowled when he saw scorched marks on the top of the wood in the shape of hands.
“Eris,” Beron pulled the duvet over himself.
“Did you enjoy my bride, father?” Eris held his hands behind his back to conceal the dagger. He approached the bed slowly but his father only laughed.
“By the cauldron, you picked a wild one. She fucks like a well seasoned whore. I might annul your marriage and keep her for myself.”
“And what of mother?”
Beron scoffed. “She’ll enjoy the reprieve.”
Eris stopped at the edge of the bed, eyes noticeably wild.
“I’m sure she will.”
That was the last thing Beron heard before Eris stabbed him and cut out his heart.
take 2 because I accidentally deleted this. feel free to use these (and maybe tag me if you’d like so I can see your lovely creations)! if anyone would like one in a different color please let me know and I'd be happy to make it!
titsay
turnnoffyourmind
snowghoul
kianamaiart
romaincrisis
baratheonpilled
gracieabrams
