Prompts are here! Remember these are more guidelines than rules and you're welcome to interpret them however you'd like within the bounds of ethical/consensual non-monogamy. If you have any questions, please feel free to reach out!
Day 1 - 4/5: Positions
What compromising or uncompromising positions does your group get into? Take this prompt with as much spice or sweetness as you’d like.
Day 2 - 4/6: Climate
How does the political, economic, or environmental climate affect your group? An excuse to write an elements-related AU or an in-depth commentary on the world your group exists in.
Day 3 - 4/7: Exposed
Exposure can be physical, mental, or emotional. Is your group exposed in the wilderness? Accidentally outed? Trying something new?
Day 4 - 4/8: Favorite Trope
What it says on the tin! How does your favorite trope change when applied to a CNM situation? Or can it be applied directly?
Day 5 - 4/9: Royalty
How does your group make each other feel like royalty? Or are they actually canon royalty? Maybe this is the perfect excuse to write a prince/princess/pauper AU.
Day 6 - 4/10: Peace
How does your group find peace? Is that peace with themselves, amongst the group, or with those around them?
Day 7 - 4/11: Why Choose?
Welcome to free day! Pick your favorite prompt ideas or tropes and mash them together! Or take it literally and create a why choose scenario for your group.
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warnings: none. fluffy story about meeting Dorian and Manon.
a/n: written for day 5 of @polysjmweek
You never expected love to come in the way it did. But then again, you never expected to meet Dorian Havilliard or Manon Blackbeak either—let alone fall in love with both of them. But here you were, sitting in the royal chambers of a rebuilt Adarlan, the sounds of birds chirping softly in the background, and two of the most powerful people in the world beside you. Your partners. Your family.
It all started at the palace months before the war and the Valg, under circumstances you could never have predicted. You were new to the court, a humble servant at first, working as a scribe and assistant to the royal archivist. You’d never thought you’d have much of a future beyond the dusty walls of the library. Then, one evening, while you were cataloging records, Prince Dorian wandered into the room looking for something he had lost.
Dorian’s father, King of Adarlan, was an imposing figure, and Dorian, though charming, was often constrained by his duties and his father’s expectations. You could tell he hated it.
The prince was an enigma. A bright, smiling face of royalty, but with a deep sadness lurking behind those blue eyes. He had his duties, his responsibilities, but you could see it in him. That desire for something more. A longing for freedom. For something real.
When Dorian spoke to you for the first time, it was after you had mistakenly interrupted him while he was looking for a particular scroll. He’d caught you mid-sentence, stammering apologies, and he’d laughed.
“I didn’t mean to make you nervous, Miss…” he’d paused. “What should I call you?”
The question was simple, but you saw the flicker of kindness in his eyes, the warmth that set him apart from the cold nobility that surrounded him.
You told him your name and he repeated it softly, like he was testing the way it rolled off his tongue. The connection was instant, almost magical in the way he looked at you. Like you were the only person in the room.
It wasn’t long before he returned to the library to see you more often, for reasons that had little to do with the scrolls you were cataloging. Soon enough, the friendship between you both blossomed into something more. He was different with you. Free and unburdened by the weight of the crown. You saw the man he could be when he wasn’t just a prince.
He was the first to admit his feelings, his gaze intense and sincere as he confessed. “I’ve never met anyone like you, someone who sees me, not just the crown.”
You’d fallen hard, as anyone would, and yet it wasn’t just the man behind the title that made your heart race. It was the way he made you feel seen, heard. And it wasn’t just his smile that captivated you—it was his heart.
It was during the lead-up to the war, when Rowan Whitethorn was helping Dorian escape the castle that things became more serious. He refused to leave without you. The three of you had crammed onto that tiny boat and sailed away. And when everyone split up again, he took you with him on his quest.
That’s when you first met Manon Blackbeak. She and her clan of Blackbeak witches, the Thirteen, she’d called them.
Manon was a warrior and a force of nature. Her golden eyes burned with a fire. Her cold exterior, her sharp tongue, and the way she commanded respect without a single word intrigued you.
While Dorian was sneaking into Morath she watched over you. When you first spoke to her, you were wary, unsure if she’d even give you the time of day. But what surprised you was her quiet curiosity about you. She wasn’t like the others. She didn’t play games or hide her true feelings. Manon was honest, often brutally so.
“The princeling sees something in you,” she remarked one night by the fire. “And I think I’m starting to see it too.”
You had laughed at that, a little nervous but touched by the fact she was even interested in you. It was her unexpected warmth beneath her cold, unyielding shell that made your heart flutter.
With every passing day, you learned more about her. How she was bound to her clan, through loyalty and blood. She told you about the cruelty of her grandmother. About the sister she had killed without knowing who she really was.
You had told her about yourself in turn. How your parents had died of illness, and how you met Dorian in the castle library. That it was thanks to him you were even alive after the explosion at the castle. Now you were just following him and seeing where the path took you.
It wasn’t long before your heart was pulled between them, but not in the way you thought it would be. It was never a competition. It was never about choosing. Dorian and Manon saw each other and understood each other in ways that no one else could. They might have been from different worlds—Dorian born with his crown, and Manon fighting iron tooth and nail for hers—but they were more alike than either of them ever realized.
In the months that followed, you saw their bond form. It wasn’t easy. It was difficult. Full of misunderstandings and old habits that couldn’t just be broken overnight. But somehow, despite everything, the three of you found balance. You became a unit, a partnership.
The three of you sat together now on a couch in your shared chambers, each of you with your own drink, the sun beginning to set. Dorian’s hand rested on yours, and Manon leaned into your side, her head on your shoulder. You were married to both of them now, and the world didn’t seem so big anymore. It seemed manageable, because with them, you had everything you could ever need.
It had been years since you first met, since you first kissed them, since you first decided you would be more than just the sum of your parts. You’d grown together, in love, in strength, in grief. There were still challenges to face, still days when it felt like the weight of the world would crush you, but as long as you had Dorian and Manon by your side, you knew you could face anything.
“Do you ever wonder,” Dorian asked suddenly, his voice gentle, “how we ended up here?”
Manon snorted. “I remember quite well how we ended up here, princeling. You barged into my camp shaped like a woman.”
You muffled a laugh with your free hand, but Dorian just smiled. “I didn’t hear any complaints from you, witchling.”
They shared some more jabs, bickering like an old married couple as they always did. All you could do was smile, looking between them both. You never expected to find love like this, not with one person, let alone two. But here, in this moment, you knew it was everything you needed. A family. A love without limits.
You leaned in and kissed Dorian first, then Manon, your heart swelling with everything that they were, everything you had become together.
“I love you both so much,” you whispered.
Manon’s voice was low, but there was a soft chuckle beneath it. “We love you too, darling.”
Dorian raised his glass. “From now until the darkness claims us.”
You and Manon repeated the oath, clinking your glasses with his, and in that moment you knew that you were exactly where you were meant to be.
warnings: reader is a sex worker, smut, light d/s dynamics, exhibitionism
word count: 1746
a/n: I hope you all enjoy! I loved writing this one
kinktober masterlist
Dorian Havilliard hired you for the night.
You’d signed what felt like countless contracts, making sure to read each fine line and detail. Most of them involved not speaking of what happened throughout the ‘event.’
You could be trusted for your discretion, but the same couldn’t be said for the others and, you hated to say it, but your king hadn’t always made the best choices when it came to hiring.
If you were being cocky, you’d say he could’ve consulted you, but it was uncomely to assume the King of Adarlan knew who you were. Knew who most of his subjects were. Although he certainly tried, parading through the city speaking with different business owners.
However, nobody stopped by the business you worked at for a casual chat. Brothels generally weren’t made for talking. Word had it, his witch would be there as well, and if what you read in those papers a few weeks ago was true, you were to be playing with both of them. There was no reason to doubt the agreement you’d signed.
Either way, your name was on the list when you made your way to the castle gates, clothed in the garments he’d sent the night before, your own cloak covering them. You could hardly wear them out on the streets, not without causing some sort of massive scene.
A chill snaked up your spine as you crossed the threshold to the castle, exhaling slowly and trying not to look too out of place. The instructions for your arrival, tucked inside the garment you currently wore, were rather vague.
Meet inside the gates at quarter past seven, the guards will have your name. Someone will meet you there.
-D.H.
Thankfully, a servant found you immediately, greeted you with a smile before ushering you off towards a side entrance.
You were given a room to ‘ready’ yourself however needed. The woman looked rather uncomfortable saying that, and told you’d be expected at eight o’clock sharp.
As you spun slowly, you decided it was a rather beautiful room. Better than you expected, honestly.
The three quarters of an hour passed quickly, and the same servant came to fetch you. You passed through unfamiliar halls, trying your best not to gawk at everything, but it was all so damn beautiful. It was hardly fair how quickly the woman was walking, barely giving you a chance to glance at some of the decorations hanging from the walls.
-
Dorian caught a glimpse of you once, passing by your place of business. He knew, then, that not only did he want you, but Manon would as well as soon as she caught a glimpse. Well, to his best judgment he figured she would.
Tonight, he was fulfilling a fantasy of hers, with your help.
Some old habits died hard, or not at all, and he couldn’t resist throwing a party every once in a while – after the country had time to rebuild and settle, of course. He knew rumors spread around the city of them, but not a soul dared to confront him. He almost wished they would, just so he could see the reactions on their face when he told them it was the truth.
He leaned back in his throne, fingers tapping on the arm, where Manon perched. She’d refused one of her own, preferring to share his. He understood it, they had limited time together. Part of the reason he wanted to give her this gift.
The doors to the throne room opened, the servant ushered you inside before closing the doors gently behind you. Gracefully, although he saw the slight tremor in your fingers, you strode up the pathway, dropping into a low curtsey before both of them.
A throne pet, just for the night.
His bloodthirsty ironteeth witch leaned back and assessed you with a gaze too cool for golden eyes. He could feel her forming a judgment and he’d be lying if he said a bit of nerves didn’t spike through him with it. But Dorian knew her, he knew he’d chosen right with you.
Manon’s shallow nod gave him an unexpected sense of relief. The show could go on.
“If nobody has explained yet,” he knew they hadn’t, but part of him wanted to throw you off balance, “you’ll be playing the role of our throne pet for the night.”
You frowned slightly. Maybe mentally running through the papers he’d had you read and sign?
“We don't expect you to bark, meow, or wear a tail. I thought ‘pet’ would be a more pleasant word that ‘whore’ or ‘slut,’” Dorian clarified.
The vulgarity turned your cheeks beet red, but you nodded in understanding, a familiar hunger gleaming in your eyes. Maybe those were words you didn’t quite mind.
-
Unable to resist, you ground back against Dorian as Manon approached. Even your human nose could scent her arousal. The witch didn’t notice, her eyes fixed firmly on you. Rather, on your pussy currently on display.
Both legs thrown up over the side of the throne, you made quite the sight.
The party and debauchery raged on around you, but you were well aware everyone in the room had at least one eye on you. Or on the scene playing out in front of them. You couldn’t blame them, you’d probably be watching as well.
Right now, however, you were a prettily presented package for the Witch Queen, and gods you were in some kind of heaven.
Manon ran an iron nail down the inside of your thigh. You shivered as she drifted over sensitive areas that, with one sharp flick of her wrist, could cut you open and spill your life out. It thrilled you. She didn't draw blood, instead built sensations along your inner thighs, supplementing each light scratch - that disappeared after a few seconds - with a press of her lips. They were surprisingly soft against your skin. Delicate, even, although you’d never have the courage to say that to her face.
By the time she crouched, not knelt, before you, you were a squirming mess atop of her lover, his hands firmly gripping your thighs to keep them spread.
Clothing had been lost nearly an hour ago, as soon as Dorian had decided he wanted to see all of their pet on display for them.
“How do you feel, pet?” Manon purred, voice bedroom ready with a slight rasp.
You whimpered.
Dorian tutted behind you, “I think she asked you a question.”
“Good, good, good,” you managed to chant, the only word that made sense. “Please,” you added.
“If I want you to beg,” she lightly thwacked your inner thigh. “I’ll let you know.”
You bit down on your bottom lip to keep more pleas from spilling. This wasn’t even like you, you’d never begged before but right now this female and male had you willing to fall to your knees for it. They’d teased you with gentle touches all night, the barest brushes of their skins against yours, as if they were waiting for this. For you, as a desperate and wiggling mess, ready to agree to any terms for release.
Iron nails retracted, you held your breath.
“Breathe,” Dorian chuckled in your ear, but you heard the hint of command. Slight embarrassment flushed through you, but Manon had either noticed and ignored, or not noticed at all. You’d bet money on the first option.
At the first contact you gasped, inhaling deeply. Her fingers spread you open as she lowered her head closer. And stopped.
Teeth ripped into your bottom lip to keep yourself from whining pathetically.
She licked one long stripe up the center of your core, hands still spreading you widely. It was a good thing your King had a grip on you from behind, because your body writhed outside of your control, like you’d been possessed by pleasure.
She repeated the action, twice, thrice, before pausing again.
“She tastes delicious,” she told the king, and rose over you. Shifting to the side and twisting your head, you watched their tongues swirl together. As he tasted you on her.
She lowered herself again, this time sucking your clit between her lips, flicking it lightly with her tongue. Talented. Manon Blackbeak was talented.
Fingers pushed in, curling upward, your eyes rolled back, fingers gripping the King’s forearms with a death grip, nails probably biting in and committing some kind of crime. She sucked on your clit again, harder, pushing her fingers up against your front walls, and you fell over the edge.
It hadn’t taken long, not with how they’d built you up the entire night, probably without knowing what they were doing.
“My turn,” Dorian murmured into your ear. “If you’re ready,”
Were you? For him, absolutely.
“Yes,” you breathed, and were lifted on your feet. It took him seconds to maneuver you, bending you right over the side of the throne with an urgency you hadn’t seen from the man. Hands scrabbling for purchase, you gripped the opposite arm to keep yourself steady. You had a feeling that the attempt was useless.
Dorian gripped one hip, you twisted over you shoulder to see his other hand wrapped around a beautiful cock, felt it notch at your entrance as he guided himself inside.
Fuck. It felt incredible, having him inside of you, filling you up.
His hips began moving and someone else, in front of you, caught your attention, tapping a finger on your lips.
The Witch Queen. Momentary panic flooded you. Was she not alright with this? Were you about to lose your head?
“I want to watch your face,” she murmured, “he feels good, doesn’t he?”
You managed a nod. He moved faster, any words you might have said left you along with the ability to speak them.
“You look like a dream,” she said in a matter-of-fact way that made you think she didn’t really believe it, but perhaps that’s just how she spoke.
For several minutes, the King pounded into you, his hand eventually pressed against your lower back, and you dropped your hands to rest against the seat of the throne, arching your back for him, enjoying the moan that left his lips.
As he pulled out, spilling himself all over your back, magic quickly cleaning it up, your body went limp against the throne, incapable of movement.
“You’ll have to hire her again,” you heard the Queen tell the King as he scooped you into his arms.
We hope everyone is feeling renewed and refreshed from their holiday celebrations! Here is the prompt list for our very first SJM x Reader Week!
We welcome you to interpret these prompts however you like. Moodboards, fan art, fanfic, playlists, we welcome all creations so long as human creativity went into it. We will not reblog any work using AI. We want to see what your beautiful minds come up with!
Please tag @sjmxreaderweek in your post and use the sjmxreaderweek and sjmxreaderweek2025 tags. We want to be able to reblog your creations, and this will help us find you!
Of course, if you have any questions please feel free to send them our way! Prompt descriptions are below:
Day One: Beginnings/Endings
This is the prompt of firsts and lasts, a chance for joy and heartbreak in equal measure. Tell us how your ship began or show us their final day together. Let us see them starting a new tradition or celebrating one for the last time.
Day Two: Friends/Family
How did they introduce their new significant other to their friends or family? Did they begin as friends? Were they introduced by family? How do the people they love the most factor into their lives?
Day Three: Fate/Choice
We can't fight fate, or can we? Does destiny trump the love you choose for yourself? Or do you defy the gods and choose your own path? Is having a fated mate as sweet as everyone makes it sound?
Day Four: Villain/Hero
Every hero is a villain in someone else's story. And, to some, a villain may be the hero they've been longing for. Is there blood on the hands that held you so sweetly? Did it come from great sacrifice, or was it sweet revenge?
Day Five: Heirs/Lords & Ladies
If SJM loves anything, it's a royal romance. Is your great love heir to a court or kingdom? How does their role or title affect their relationship? Is the head that wears the crown heavy, or does their birthright give them purpose? Does court intrigue play a part in their great romance?
Day Six: Adventure/Home
Come on, it's our chance to head out on an incredible adventure! Do we go find a tulip field in a foreign land for a lovely picnic? Is there danger afoot, do we need to save the world? Or do we stay inside, curled up with a good book and the one we love most? Sometimes the best adventures can be found in the comfort of your own home.
Day Seven: Free Day
Do you have an idea that won't fall under the previous prompts, now matter how loosely you interpret them? Now is your chance to tell us the story you've been wanting to tell! Got a weird AU you've been dying to share? Give it to us now! Write that crossover fic of your dreams. Anything goes!
A/N: I keep deviating from my outline but I expect there to be 2 (maybe 3) more parts to this story
Muffled shouts sounded through the air, the sound echoing painfully in your head. Gloved hands grabbed your arms firmly, hauling you up as your vision cleared to reveal your guards eyeing you with concern.
“Miss, are you alright to stand on your own?” You turned to your right to see a young guard holding your arm - honey brown eyes searching your face with genuine concern. You hadn’t taken the time to really look at these men who were with you almost constantly in the castle - the four of whom had been watching your every move. An oversight on your part, which you would be sure to remedy.
You eyed the guard up and down - he was quite handsome, actually, with dark brown hair and ivory skin, tinged pink from the wind - and made a show of smiling at him as you put your hand on his. “Yes, I’m alright. Thank you...?”
“Ryon, miss.” You batted your eyelashes, giving Ryon your best doe-eyed, innocent look. You peered at the guard to your left - a slightly older gentleman with rich umber skin and graying hair - who was eyeing you with suspicion. You moved your hand to his lower arm, giving a gentle squeeze as you smiled brightly.
“And your name?”
The guard’s eyes softened almost imperceptibly. “Arnoux, miss.”
Rubbing your thumb soothingly along Arnoux’s arm, you stepped back slightly from the two men to stand on your own - all four guards still watching you intently. “Well, thank you both for your assistance. I do think that I should head back to my room, though. I am still feeling a bit faint.”
Ryon and the other two guards - you’d have to remember to learn their names later - looked to Arnoux, who was still watching you closely, an air of caution evident on his face. His dark eyes never left yours as the man gave a curt nod, signaling his approval. Ryon gently guided you ahead so that you were walking with the other two guards ahead of you, Ryon and Arnoux close behind.
You held your head high, mostly so that it was easier to make note of your surroundings without turning your head too much. You suspected Arnoux’s, admittedly wise, consternation towards you was due to your unabashed snooping, and you’d need to be more careful moving forward.
The group arrived at the door to your room, a tall blonde guard who Ryon addressed as Warrick ushering you inside as Arnoux instructed him to alert their Majesties of your “incident” in the garden. You internally sighed, hiding your disappointment as the door closed behind you, locking you in the room once more. The clock ticked quietly on the wall - its hands revealing how late in the day it was.
You looked out the window to the garden below where you had just fainted, your pulse pounding when you remembered what was in your dress pocket. You let out an exhale when flowers brushed your fingertips - they hadn’t caught you with the foxglove. Rushing over to the armoire, you took the foxglove from your pockets, burying the flowers beneath your sleeping clothes. You closed the drawer and doors to the chest, hurrying back to sit on the bed before anyone might come in and see.
The moment of rest as you sunk into the mattress was like a dam breaking open - the swell of emotions crashing down into a torrent of tears as you began to process the news. Your fiancé was alive, and here. This changed everything in your plan - you’d have to find not only your own way out of this castle, but how to help him escape as well.
Now was not the time for planning, however, as you finally let the tears fall, crying audaciously for anyone to hear. You wanted them to hear - Arnoux, Ryon, Manon, Dorian. You would let the entire palace hear your pain. And when you were ready, the entire palace would feel your wrath.
The door burst open, interrupting your sinister daydream as Dorian rushed in, Manon right behind him. Dorian looked near to tears himself as he knelt before you, sapphire eyes studying you for any sign of pain. Your mind detested how your heart swelled at his care. “We hurried here when Warrick informed us that you fainted in the gardens. We’ve called for a healer, but I needed to see that you were alright.”
Realizing they were coming from the dungeons where your fiancé was supposedly held, you glanced discreetly towards the clock on the wall. Less than eight minutes for Warrick to get down to the dungeons, and for them to return. If you could find the path to where he was kept, you would be able to make your escape with your love. An idea came to you - this would take time, but would be worth it in the end.
You turned to Dorian, slipping on the too-familiar mask of innocence you’d used on Ryon just moments ago as you sniffled and nodded into his hand that held your cheek. “I am feeling quite ill. The journey to the gardens was unexpectedly difficult for me. I was thinking, I should probably stay indoors for awhile. The library was warm and comfortable.”
You held back your smirk at the shocked look on their faces at your proposal, their predatory smiles of pleasure as they thought they’d finally tamed you. Little did they know that the fawn was luring the wolves into an archer’s range.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
ahem, kinda wanna make Dorian whimper and whine for him to be allowed to touch you, for you to touch him where he needs you the most. He ran that snarky mouth of his so this is his punishment. His wrists are bound above his head. Chest heaving as those black curls stick to his forehead, framing Dorian’s bright, tear-filled eyes. Your needy little pretty boy. He can do nothing but beg.
Now you…You’re going to touch her. You’re going to make Dorian watch as you use your tongue, your fingers, your cunt to make Manon growl in pleasure. And in return, she’ll devour you until you’re screaming. Just as she always does. The two of you will touch the other until it’s certain that Dorian is delirious with lust and jealousy. Until it’s certain he’s learnt his lesson. And even then, you and Manon will play with the pretty prince some more. Just me…or?
