#dark! Feyre

[tadpolesonalgae]

Tag, You’re It[***]

Dark!feysand x human!reader

A/N: I have no words for how much I love this ask

Summary: eenie, meenie, miny, mo, catch a lady by her toes, if she screams don’t let her go.

Warnings: Non-con, smut, breeding kink, mean Dom!Rhys, dark!Feysand, mentions of rape, slight predator play, slight necrophilia (cut off fingers), mentions of torture, 7.5k words

Necrophilia part follows from: ‘He’ll never put his hands on you again.

Well…’

-Part 2-

“I—…what?”

The High Lady stiffens at your shocked tone. Almost horrified. Besides her, Rhysand’s eyes sharpen, piercing into you. She sucks in a calming breath. “We can get rid of your husband, you won’t have to live here anymore. With him.”

Your lips part in shock, both of their eyes following so keenly that you snap your mouth shut. “I love my husband,” you utter. “And this home is one we built together.” Silver lines your eyes as you try to summon anger but all you feel is betrayal. “I understand it’s nowhere near your level of wealth,” you flush, eyes hot, “but my husband and my house are both very dear to me. I will not leave them.”

“Just give us a chance,” Feyre whispers, gently, reaching to settle her palm over yours but you jerk back. Pain flashes through her grey-blue eyes before she smothers it. “No!” You keep your hand close to your chest, leaning away from her in the chair. “I’ve told you very clearly, High Lady—” Feyre stills at the title, in replace of her name, “—I love my husband, and he loves me. We’ve grown together throughout the years and there’s no one I would be happier to spend my life with. Besides,” you add, voice quieting as your eyes pierce into the female’s, “we’ve decided to try for a child. By this time next year I will have a baby to look after.”

She actually flinches at the line. A reminder of how fae bodies take longer to reproduce, how slim the chances are. A private worry she had confided in you, many moons ago. The High Lord’s eyes narrow, thinking about all the ways he could make you submit to them. Rhysand watches as you raise from your chair, tension rippling across his chest as you move to the door. It would be so easy to sink into your mind, slide through your mental shields and force you to your knees.

But his mate is still young and would not approve of his darker methods. He needs to find a way around the obstacle of morality, and quickly. Before you leave and things begin to get messy. Who would’ve guessed you’d be so loyal to your scummy husband? Anger burns across his chest at the thought alone. How you could put up with the man was beyond him. He knew the two of them would treat you infinitely better than he ever could. You just needed your eyes opened, to see their side.

The High Lord is brought out of his mind when Feyre stands from her chair, striding after you on her elegantly fae legs, swallowing the distance. Her movements are sharp, precise. No soft edges to be found. Her mind is hardened and he sends a question across the bond. It rebounds off a wall of glittering, black adamant, so pure his talons hardly leave a scratch.

Her hands land on your hips and you flinch when she spins you around, shoving you against the unopened door. “It wasn’t a request,” her words are lethally soft, warmth freezing over as ice slices through her eyes. “I was giving you an order.” Then her hands pin you to to the exit, holding you still by the sweep of your bones, and her mouth crushes down on your own.

You completely freeze, caught in the crossfire as you still. Your mind blanks with utter terror as she forces her tongue between your lips, tasting you as she growls. The sound has your hairs standing on end, tingling sensitivity erupting across your skin as her mouth overlaps your own.

The High Lord’s eyes widen, shock coursing through his blood as he watches, enraptured. His mate keeps you against the door, taking what she wants. Then she’s pulling back, a silver thread of saliva connecting your lips as you stare up at her. “Rhys,” she commands, and you’re paralysed as the male stands, exuding malice as he prowls forward, settling at her back. He towers over the both of you, and his violet eyes gleam with dark delight.

“Yes, my lady?” He drawls, hands settling at her waist, hunching over as he settles his chin on the elegant slope of her shoulder. Both of their hungry eyes remain on you, pinning you to the door like an insect to a dissection table. “Bedroom. Now.” Her voice cuts through the air, like a freshly forged blade through a narrow sheet of ice.

He presses a kiss to the space below her jaw, hands dancing over the lace at her sides. Violet eyes pierce into you before he vanishes, wisped away in a plume of shadows. Your eyes turn to the female’s, afraid, “Feyre—”

“‘Feyre’, now.” Her expression is stony, blue-grey eyes thunderous. “I thought you were content to address me as High Lady,” she spits out. You cower before her, power straining in the air, the metallic tinge shoving itself up your nostrils.

You swallow, raising your hands slowly in surrender, “I swear, I didn’t mean to offend—”

Her hand grips you jaw and you cry out, her nails biting into the soft skin of your cheek, “don’t back out now,” she croons, “you said what you wanted to. Chose your path.” Silver lines your eyes as terror screams in your blood. Her lips brush over yours as she leans down, eyes hard and unforgiving, “you dug your grave, now lie in it.”

Her lips once again crash over yours and you cry out, tears free-falling from your eyes, pouring down your cheeks as you try to scream. One hand snakes around your hip, keeping you still with her overwhelming strength. Her other snakes between your legs, fingers dancing through the fabric of your skirts, settling against your bare heat. She completely dominates your mouth, even as you thrash, her teeth nipping at your lips, tongue conquering your own as she shoves you into submission.

A growl rumbles across her breastbone as she feels wetness at your entrance. The heel of her palm rubs over your clit as you try to scream for her to stop, to get away from you. Two of her fingers dip into your cunt and you cry harder, writhing against her grip even if it’s utterly useless to attempt to escape her. She’s brilliantly, powerfully fae, and you’re undeniably, detrimentally human.

Your hands slide away from trying to shove her off, instead scraping at the door. If you can just find the handle—

The wood gives way behind you, allowing you to stumble back, crashing to the floor as your legs give out. She’s silhouetted in the frame, unusually tall, proportions too elongated to pass as human. Sharp talons protrude from her fingertips, glinting in the light. She snarls, and all it takes is that first step across the threshold that has you scrambling to your feet, sprinting down the hallways. An animal growl echoes along the corridor behind you, bouncing off the walls as your feet pound against the floor boards.

You swerve left, careen right, hit the stairs. You practically leap down them as you hear her following after you. Her steps are slow, leisurely, but you hear the menacing scrape of claws along wallpaper. It grates on your ears and you’re surprised you don’t trip with how weak your legs feel.

You fling a door open, dashing inside as you search for the final set of stairs to lead you down to the ground floor. It’s another hallway. There’s no time. You sprint down it, feeling the pressure of power in the air as she gains on you. You nearly trip on a rug but keep your balance, zipping down the corridors until you find a set of stairs. They only lead up.

Her footsteps echo on the dark mahogany floors, the deep red rugs doing nothing to soften their harsh thud. She’s practically behind you.

You take the stairs three at a time, breathing hard as you turn right at the top, searching for a place to hide. You run down more corridors with dark floorboards, more hallways with red rugs. Shit. You must’ve gotten turned around. Were you even on the first floor?

Where are you, little traitor?

The High Lady’s voice slices through your mind and you clutch your temples, the sound much too loud. It must mean she’s close. Fuck. You stumble along the narrowing hallways, but trip, sprawling on the floor. Pushing up, you see the loom of her shadow around the corner, lurking just out of sight. You turn on your heel, arms pumping at your sides, heart pounding in your chest.

You round a final corner and you know you can’t continue for much longer. Your throw open a door, spinning on your heel as you make sure to shut it as quietly as possible. You can’t hear it over the thunderous beat of your heart. In your peripherals, you can see your hands shaking as you release the handle, backing up on your tiptoes.

Powerful arms slide around your waist, pulling you tight against a strong chest, “there you are, little lynx.” You scream, pushing away from him as you turn. A vicious grin plays on his hellish mouth, stalking forward until you’re cornered against the wall. Your lungs are burning as you again reach for the handle, but it’s gone.

Disbelievingly, you stare at the flat wood, no sign to be found it was ever there. “What did you do?” You stammer, tears brimming at your eyes as his grin widens. “I didn’t do a single thing. That was all her.” You shrink away from him as he leans down, arms wrapping around your middle, the broad length of his shoulder pressing against your stomach.

Screams tear from your lips as he hoists you into the air with casual ease. You don’t weigh a thing to him. “Let me go!” You cry, slamming your hands into his back, aiming either side of his spine. He flings you down atop a wide mattress. Your marital bed, you realise. “Please, Rhys. My husband! What of my life!?” Your desperate pleas fall on deaf ears as his grin widens with pleasure.

“Keep still,” he drawls, arms folding over his powerful chest and you can’t find the will to move. It’s been taken from you. “I’m sure she’ll be along in a moment to decide what to do with you.” Tears blur your vision, and a moment later, the door swings open. A shiver licks up the High Lord’s spine as he sets his gaze on his mate, who is thrumming with dark power. Embracing the Night.

You scramble back on the bed, up to the headboard, pressing into the corner as she prowls across the room. Her talons glitter in the fading light, the room awash with blues and greys as darkness descends. “You want to make this difficult, little traitor?” She spits, standing at the end of the mattress. You shake your head, mouth trembling as your hands shake.

The grey-blue of her eyes shutter at your answer. “Come here.” One slim finger points to the spot directly in front of her. You swallow, tremors wracking your muscles but you manage to sporadically push forward. Maybe you should listen to her, get her out of that cold, wrathful state. Hands settling shakily into the sheets, you crawl forward, stopping before her as you sit back on your calves, kneeling placatingly.

“Rhys,” she addresses, never taking her cold eyes from you, “sit down.” He follows her orders, taking one of the comfortable armchairs facing the bed. He sprawls across the seat as if it’s a throne, long legs crossing over one another as he settles for the show.

Feyre’s claws retract, hand fisting in your hair sternly. “Eyes on me.” Instantly, you return you gaze to her, and her grip lessens. “Will you be good for me?” The question slices through your tender threads of hope. Your lower lip wobbles, but you nod. You just need an opening. Maybe you can throw yourself out the window.

The High Lady’s eyes pierce into you, staring deep into your soul. “Kiss me,” she commands, and you still.

“W—…what?”

“Prove you’ll be good. Kiss me. Show me you mean it.” Her brow narrows, “unless you’re lying.”

“Fey—” She glowers at the pet name you’ve had for her. “Feyre. Please.” Your hands raise to settle on her hips, holding her in reverent supplication, bowing your head, appealing to the friend you’d once had. “Maybe, if my husband could—”

She snarls, cutting you off as she jerks your head upright. “That useless sack of meat doesn’t deserve you.” You swallow down your tears at the way she speaks about the man you love, heart stinging, wishing he could be here to hold you. You were so close to your happy ever after. “But if he could just come with me! Then…then maybe…” You meet her gaze heart sinking. “You can have me.”

A thunderous growl resonates throughout the dark room and you try to shrink from her, hands pulling away as if stung. “The next time you mention him, I’ll kill him myself.” Despair wracks your heart, shuddering within its boney cage. You fling your arms around her in a last effort to summon forward the gentle friend you’d had, your closest companion, the one who you had thought you’d listen to above anyone else. Her word had been law unto you, until she’d changed.

“Please, Fey,” you sob weakly, shuddering in her arms. She stiffens under your touch, finally feeling your skin against hers as she’d dreamt about for so long. She can feel the rise and fall of your chest, the full press of your breasts against her own, the soft tickle of breath over her shoulder as your arms grip her tightly. As if you’re scared to let go of her. “I know you’re in there…” Hot droplets land on the bare expanse of her shoulder, pooling in the dip of her collar bone. “So please, come back to me. I miss you so much. Come back, Fey…”

Her hands brace your waist, gently pulling you from her. You settle back onto your knees, hands flat against her neck, just below her jaw as you look at her with dim hopefulness. You watch as her eyes glaze, in discussion with her mate. When she speaks, her voice has softened, something of her old kindness lighting the icy grey of her eyes. “Why do you love him?”

Tears spill as hope lights in your chest. “He completes me, Fey. Like how you say Rhys completes you. I can’t—…without him, I… I wouldn’t be me, Fey. He makes me whole.” You look up at her with pleading eyes, her own softening just a fraction. “It’ll pass,” she soothes, hand landing atop your head with a feather-light touch, stroking your hair calmingly.

“What…?”

Sadness lies in the depth of her dark gaze, “you’ll recover from him. Like I did from Tamlin. You’ll get better. My sweet girl…just let us help you.” The spark dims, snuffed out by her words. Then the torrent of emotions rain down on you as your hands fist in the collar of her low cut dress, pulling yourself up until you’re chest to chest. “How would you feel, Feyre?” You shout at her, tears pouring down your cheeks as you feel like you’re being cleaved in two. “What would you do if someone tried to take you away from Rhys? How would you feel if they tried to force you like you’re doing to me?”

“Why have one when they could have both?” She murmurs, looking deep into your eyes. You shake your head as her own hands slide adoringly up your sides, cupping your jaw. “No…that’s not… You’re not listening to me!”

“I drink in every word you give me, treasure every moment of your company in the chambers of my memory,” she breathes over your lips. You’re sucked into her mind, swallowed as she shows you yourself through her eyes. When you and your husband were struggling badly and you’d broken down, crying and shaking in her arms. When she’d tried to leave you alone on your birthday, thinking you’d want to share it with the man you claimed to love. Yet you had snuck out - after dark - to her own mansion in the human lands, where you knew she had made the journey to in order to at least be around to celebrate.

Her memories swarmed your mind, tainting the once dear images with a sinister gleam, a lurking presence waiting for the right moment to pounce.

The High Lady sees that same look in your eyes as the night you’d confessed to skipping meals to ration food over the harsh winter, the despair. The doubt you’d survive. She doesn’t want to hurt you, but she knows you’ll be better away from him. You just need the bandage ripped off, like what Rhys had done for her when he’d saved her from the Spring Court. She’d been dissonant at first, but had come back to life under his care.

And they could do the same for you. Nurture and guide you until you were healed of your husband’s marks. Until you wouldn’t question a lone grave dug in your back garden in the house you would leave behind. For them. They could keep you as you are, take you into their home, welcome you to their bed. She knows it will take a while, months perhaps for you to come to terms, to understand the past, but the time will come. Second by agonising second.

“But he loves me, Fey. I can’t leave him behind. He’s my husband.”

She doesn’t remind you of the threat she’s made. Of the promise she will now fulfil.

“I love you!” She snarls, pressing her forehead against your own. “We…Both of us. Rhys and I…we love you so much it hurts.” You stare up at her with wide eyes, stunned. Your head shakes subtly, trying to deny her. “We do, sweet girl,” she agonises, “you’re everything to us. The sun, the moon, all the stars. They’re nothing to you. Our Court, our people, our realm. We would pick you over them a hundred— forever.”

“No…” you whimper, hands going slack at your sides.

“We’ll take care of you. You’ll never be without a meal. Never sleep alone at night. Never worry you won’t survive a season ever again. We can be your stability. Just let us have you.”

“Fey…”

She pulls you to her mouth, swallowing down your pained whimpers as she drinks you down. Her hand twines around your waist, pulling your middle against hers. Your hands settle just above her chest, weakly pushing away from her.

She comes back harder, making you lean back in her arms, allowing her to splay you out on your own marital bed. When she pulls away, you’re panting, heart pounding. Through teary eyes you peer up at her, “you can’t do this, Fey…” you whimper, voice cracking, “you’re supposed to be my friend… You’re not supposed to…use me, like this.”

“We’re not going to use you, sweet girl,” she breathes over your lips, “we’re going to love you.” You shake your head frantically, attempting to pull away from her treacherous mouth, “but I don’t want that!”

“You will… You just need to understand. See how much better we can treat you. You’ll be bathing in pleasure before you know it. You’ll never want to leave our bed.”

You move to protest but a scent catches your attention, deep and musky. The High Lady’s eyes glaze, pausing as she speaks to her mate. You take the precious seconds to prepare yourself for the inevitable. They’re going to take you. On your marriage bed. You bite the inside of your lip, trying to prevent the tears.

Her eyes regain their life, sadness in their depths. “I’m sorry it had to happen this way.” Her lips brush against yours, a shudder slithering down your spine that she misinterprets. Her nose brushes you own in what’s supposed to be an affectionate gesture.

The High Lord raises from his chair. He’s seen enough. Now it’s time to partake.

You stiffen as he prowls closer, eyes widening as you stare up at the female. “You’re not…” you trail off, looking at her, stunned. “You’re going to let him rape me?”

Her eyes soften slightly. “We love you, sweet girl. It’s not rape.”

“My husband loves me, and yet he—!” Your eyes snap wide, hands slapping over your mouth as you freeze, terror icing your veins as they both still. “I didn’t— that—… I’m sorry…”

“He did what?” Fury sluices through the room as it blazes in her cold eyes. Their lips pull back from their teeth, rage burning in the air. You shake your head desperately, trying to swallow back the words you’ve already spat out. Talons slice from her fingernails as her canines sharpen, pupils slitting with pure outrage.

“I’m going to slaughter him,” she realises, breathing the violent words onto your lips. You flinch. “No…” you whimper, “Fey, you don’t understand…! He was drunk! He didn’t know what he was doing!” You cry. The High Lady moves to pull away from you but your arms grip over her shoulders, legs clasping around her waist. She just pulls you with her as she stands. Feyre barely even registers your weight as she steps away from the bed.

Your thighs squeeze her hips as you try not to fall, burying your face into her hair. “It was only once…he didn’t mean to. I know he didn’t. I don’t think he even remembers it.” Her body stiffens as you cry into her shoulder. Like you’ve done so many times before. And it feels familiar. A warm breath of summer air in the depths of a Winter Court snowstorm.

But your confession plays over and over again in her mind, a curse on repeat. “Rhys,” she murmurs, summoning her mate. They exchange glances, coming to an agreement. Strong arms sneak around your waist, holding your back to his chest as Feyre steps from your arms. Panic tears through you as you struggle against his iron grip. “No!” You rasp, voice breaking, “you mustn’t! You can’t kill him!”

She plants a kiss to your forehead, brushing away free strands of hair. “I’ll be back. Rhys’ll look after you,” she murmurs against your mouth and you cry. “I don’t want him! I don’t want either of you! I want my husband!”

“Don’t say that,” the male speaks from behind you, making you jump in his arms, “you want us to be gentle, don’t you?” The High Lady snarls, shooting him a threatening look. You can practically feel the smirk on his hellish mouth.

“If you hurt her…” Feyre snarls, and for a second, you think you see part of the old her shining through. Then the High Lord presses a placating kiss to your cheek, soothing his mate. “Now, do you want to deal with him, or should I?” He spits, and you know who they’re talking about. You attempt to crawl out of his arms but his head dips again, littering kisses to the slope of your neck.

You whine as you try to scrabble away, out of his dominating hold, desperately trying to escape the invasive press of something hard at your lower back. His hips roll against yours and a startled whimper that sounds a bit too much like a moan flies from your lips. Both of them still. You can feel their penetrating gazes piercing into you, willing you to repeat the sound for them. They’ve gotten a taste, now they want more.

The High Lady steps forward, cupping your jaw as she affectionately lays kisses to your cheeks and nose, as if kissing invisible dots. “Rhys’ going to take care of you while I’m gone. Okay, sweet girl?” You look at her pleadingly. “Please…” your heart pumps as you feel him twitch at the whimper. “Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me alone with him.”

Feyre kisses the bridge of your nose comfortingly. “He won’t be mean to you, sweetness. Just try to get along and everything will be fine. He won’t hurt you.” Tears spill down your cheeks as you try to grab for her. It’s a no-brainer to pick her over the High Lord who’s been ruling for centuries. You have no doubt he has near depthless experience in breaking those he views as heretics, bending them to his will.

Despite everything, Feyre still holds an modicum of safety to her person. Rhysand seems to view morality as a loose guideline if it gets in the way of what he wants. And right now, he wants you.

She puts a kiss to your lips and - praying to the mother for forgiveness - you kiss her back, desperately trying to sway her mind so she’ll stay. She moans, but pulls away, leaving your mouth cold. “I’ll be back to join before you know it. But for now,” her eyes turn ice blue, jaw tightening, “I’m going to deal with that man.”

And like that, she vanishes, leaving you alone with the monster at your back. He noses at your throat scenting you, picking up on something he likes. “That was mean, little lynx,” he mutters begrudgingly beside your ear. You shudder, and he forcefully guides you back to the bed. Rhysand pushes you forward, making you tumble down onto the mattress, bent over.

Frantically, your hands scramble for purchase, attempting to wriggle away from him but his large hands grip your hips. “Rhys…” you whimper into the sheets, too afraid to look at him. A deep groan resonates in his chest, grabbing you tight as he lifts you onto the bed, forcefully enough that your arms give out, sticking your ass in the air. You move to lift your upper half from the bed, but something prevents you—a dark power that laces around your muscle and bone, threading narrowly through cartilage.

You’re stuck, face pressing into the sheets, hind perking up.

Hairs raise all across your body as his fingers trail up your calves, catching on the material of your dress as he eases it up over the backs of your thighs. You struggled when he pushes it over your ass, revealing the thin slip of material that clings desperately to your hips.

“Rhysand…” you weep into the mattress. You don’t even know what you’re trying. If Fey hadn’t budged, there’s no way you could convince him. He shushes you—surprisingly gently. Horridly so. He shifts behind you on the bed, and you feel the invasive press of something between you—

“Rhys!” You scream. His hands wrap around the tops of your thighs, pulling you back against his face as he inhales. “Rhys! Stop that!” You cry, hips wiggling as you attempt to squirm away from him. His grip only tightens, and a soundless scream tears from your throat as he hooks his fae fingers beneath your underwear, pulling it away. Then he’s pressing straight back in, nose flush against your slick hole, mouth prone to attack your clit. It flicks out, gently, testing you out.

You feel the serpentine grin on his hellish mouth, before his lips part over you, groaning as his silver-tipped tongue gilds your glossy cunt.

Shame and mortification thrill inside of you at how quickly he has you unravelling on him. Tears wet the sheets, hot and salty. He moans at your taste, finally raising from between your legs, only to mount you like a whore.

A new wave of terror splits down your throat as you feel him against your ass. One powerful arm loops around your middle, the other snaking beneath your jaw so he can brush his words over your mouth. “That wasn’t so bad, was it, little lynx?” He lifts you so you’re on your hands and knees, back curving in an attempt to relieve the press of his skin anywhere from your body.

The High Lord’s grip tightens on your jaw, and you’re worried he’ll fracture the bone. “That damned husband of yours ever treated this cunt so good?” You don’t even try to move, fearful he’ll snap something. You wince as his grip strengthens, and panic floods your body. You attempt to squirm free of his grip, but your ass ends up pushing back into his hips, a growl sounding in his chest at the action.

“That desperate to have her treated well, huh?”

You swallow, jerking away from him. He releases you suddenly, chuckling to himself as you fall forward into the bed. Immediately, you’re rolling onto your back, scrambling up the bed to get away from him. The High Lord prowls after you, cornering you when your back presses against the wall, slotting himself between your thighs. He’s so much larger than your human form, deadly power writhing in the dark halo of shadow that surrounds him.

“Come on,” he chides, cupping your jaw as you squeeze your eyes shut, blocking him out any way you can. He makes a noise of displeasure, before his soft, cruel mouth lands over your own. A whimper slides from your throat as he nips at your lips, tongue flicking out carefully. You try not to thing about what that flavour is. “Open up for me.”

With a shake of your head, the tears fall and you feel the hot, wet trace of his tongue dancing over your cheek, lapping up the salty paths. When he reaches the damp underside of your lashes, you flinch away, peering up at him. “There you go,” he murmurs, thumb brushing the cleft of your cheek. “Stop struggling, and this will all be so much more enjoyable for you.”

Your lower lip trembles, but you say nothing. You’ve used up all your pleading words, all your exploring supplications. There’s no way to appeal to them, they’ve set their minds of you. Maybe you should just give up, as they say. Just let them have you. Maybe it wouldn’t be that bad…

You hiss as you suck in a breath, realising what he was doing. Before he could fully grasp your mind, you spat at him, aiming just below his violet eye. It widened, staring at you in vague shock. He lifted one hand to his cheek, thumb swiping at the saliva as he wiped it away. The trembling swallowed your whole body as his eyes turned back to you, filled with cold violence. No more warmth. No more gentleness.

Good.

You could go down swinging.

A snarl thundered throughout the room as shadows engulfed the bed, obscuring your vision. You screamed when his mouth opened over your throat, viciously biting at the junction of your neck and shoulder. His teeth scrape over your clavicle, menacingly. His hands wrap beneath your ass, tugging you toward him as you’re manoeuvred into his lap, still rendered blind.

Through the darkness, you try to shove at him, at least pierce him with your nails. Maybe if you could find his eyes, you could dig into them. The menacing click of talons could be heard through the shadows, and you nearly froze with petrifaction as the glittering claws sliced, slowly, down your spine. The material of your clothes peel away the further he splits them. A ripping sound comes from behind you and you know it’s the last of your dress being shredded as he pushes it from your body.

Your hands find his shoulders and you raise them to his jaw, nails biting down into his skin, one thumb catching beneath his upper lip—and you nearly slice yourself on his canines. He snarls, and then you’re lifted from his lap, only to be pushed back down.

You scream bloody murder as his cock glides into you easily. You writhe and thrash against him, but every movement causes him to shift inside of you, making your inner muscles flex. He forces you down into the mattress, large hands tipped with glittering talons pinning you painfully. “You were rather cruel to my mate earlier, weren’t you, little lynx?” Rhysand drawls, tone dripping with malevolent vengeance. “Gloating how easily your human body can sustain life?” You whimper at the reminder. “I didn’t mean it,” you sniffle, eyes burning, “it wasn’t supposed to come out like that.”

“Uh, uh, uh. You said what you said, little liar. You know it upsets her, how slim our chances are, as High Fae.” You hiss as he draws his hips back, rolling them against yours. “So how about I put a baby in you instead, huh?”

————

Every second away from you is another second of torture, but she calms herself by scratching the itch. Her talons are glittering with blood, his eyes plucked clean out, mouth petrified into an eternal scream, a wound in his ribs surrounded by shredded flesh where his heart had been pulled from the cage of bone. His fingers are tucked away in the pocket of her pants.

It made her feel a little better, that he’d never lay a hand on you again.

Still.

She’d been gone too long, enjoying herself too much in tearing the man apart with her fae strength, and had forgotten you’d been left with her mate. The High Lady hisses in frustration. She’d wanted to be there, take part in the first time either of them got to touch you… But she’d had to. She wouldn’t have been able to enjoy you, otherwise, knowing such pain still haunted you.

Feyre would get answers out of you later, about why you hadn’t told her when it had happened. The Mother knows she would have whisked you away faster than winnowing. How long has you been keeping that from her? She grinds her teeth, spitting at the corpse, before leaving him in the chair. For later.

With a fraction of a thought, she’s cleaned the grin from her skin, talons retracting into smoothly padded fingers, slim and delicate. Perfect for you. She winnows to the top of your house, stood just outside, where she pauses for a moment. From inside she can hear the distinctive, pleading whimper of your voice, coupled with soft groans from her mate. The corpse is forgotten, her hand snaking between her legs as she listens.

When she opens the door, fierce arousal smacks her in the face, overpowering from being locked up in this room for so long. The High Lady’s mouth waters as she takes the sight in. Rhysand is tucked beneath you, strong, finely muscled arms set lightly over your hips, brushing over your waist. You’re spread over him, sitting tightly in his lap, chest to chest, your legs splayed out behind him. You’re completely at his mercy, unable to lift or move, just cling to him as he rolls his hips in an erotic lullaby of groans.

“Come on,” he whispers beside your ear, “be my good girl, yeah?” Your hips shift, back curving, breasts dragging over his chest. “Take it,” he implores, quietly, the soft caress of a lover’s voice. You try to bury your face in his neck, hiding from the world, but he doesn’t let you. His hand fists in your hair, tugging you backward, chidingly. His grip changes to your jaw, lifting your eyes to his. “You were so eager before. What happened? Too much?” He taunts, mouth brushing over yours and she watches as a shiver spider walks down your spine. The High Lady takes a step forward and your eyes loll to hers, rimmed with wet lashes.

Shakily, you reach out a hand to her. “Feyre…” you wail, lower lip trembling. “Make him stop…” Rhys’ hips buck and you slump into him, hand dropping as he lets you collapse into the strong lines. His hand brushes affectionately over your hair, soothingly as he basks in the hot wetness of drool spilling from the corner of your mouth onto his skin.

The High Lady coos, moving closer, leaning over to look at you. Your eyes are a little puffy, lips nipped raw, gaze glazed while your chin glistens with… heat licks between her thighs. Rhysand’s been having a lot of fun with you. Your stomach is gleaming with cum, and when he lifts you from his cock, slamming you back down, she sees the creamy ring circling base of his cock. Release has long since stained the sheets beneath you and she wonders how much longer you’ll last with your human strength.

Your head tips back, baring your throat as you flutter around his cock, tears dripping from your sore eyes. How many times has he made you come? On his thigh? On his fingers? His mouth, his cock? You’re on the verge of oblivion, yearning desperately to be swept away from the torment.

“Rhys,” she scolds, softly, helping you to lie back as he draws his hips back, pulling out. He shoots her a wicked grin, “just warming her up for you.” She shoots him a glare before her eyes settle on you. More the thick and constant leak of cum seeping out of your hole. Just how full had he gotten you?

Detecting the direction of her eyes, Rhys smirks, “we thought an apology was in order for how she spoke to you.” His attention returns to your bruised body, making you shrink away, attempting to scuttle up the mattress, but you’re so sensitive. So tired, and worn out.

Feyre raises a brow in silent question. He grins, prowling forward until he’s caging you in. With each movement you make to get away from him, your inner muscles flex, pushing small waves of come from your hole. Rhys tuts, three fingers pushing into you, tucking the creamy liquid back inside of you. “Why don’t you let Feyre what we were doing, hm?” Your lower lip trembles, but you answer obediently, too scared of what he’ll do should you fight back. “Wanted…wanted to put a baby in me.” You whimper, feeling the drag of his fingers against your inner walls. His thumb rubs gently over your puffy clit, making you whine. She wants to be the one drawing those sounds from you.

It’s her turn to play with you. Rhys’ had you to himself this whole time, while she doesn’t even know what you taste like.

“Rhysand.” She barks, drawing his attention. He knows he’s in trouble, but he offers a sinful grin none the less. “I think you deserve a break, don’t you?” She growls possessively, noting how your eyes warm to her with twisted gratitude. His eyes spark with anticipation, waiting to see what she’ll do with you.

Reluctantly, he moves away from you, leaning against one of the broad bed posts. Feyre’s attention switches to you as she coos, crawling onto the bed, ignoring the creamy stains decorating the sheets. Even if she wants nothing more to lap at them. “Was he being mean to you, sweetness?” She murmurs, lifting you into a sitting position as you hiss. She can tell just from looking to your eyes that your mind is muddled, either from Rhysand fucking you dumb for the past hours or from being tampered with. Either way, she’s not too bothered, if it works in her favour.

You nod with weary eyes, looking up at her with lost hopefulness. “Want me to help you feel better, hm? He was so rough with you, wasn’t he?” You latched onto her at the first sign of sympathy, nodding desperately. She kisses your lash line, “it’s going to be okay now. I’m going to take care of you. You want that?” Your lower lip wobbles as you nod.

She plants a kiss to your nipped lips, before descending between your legs. At first you squirm, hating the idea of having more between your thighs, but she pushes them open firmly. You whimper as her hot breath caresses your slick heat, puffy clit already aching. But when her mouth attaches to you, it’s soft and wet. No teeth to be found, just the gentle tug of tips and the soothing lap of her tongue. Slowly, you stop trying to shut your legs on her, thighs even opening a little wider.

Feyre indulges you, moving so affectionately over your pussy, lapping up the release that’s steadily leaking from your hole, even as she feels Rhys huffing in the back of her mind. “Does that feel better, sweet thing?” She questions, settling a kiss just below your clit, her nose bumping the sensitive nub. “…yeah.” She laughs softly, pulling away from your cunt as she crawls back up over you.

“Did Rhys use your pretty mouth?” She asks, and heat flushes your salty cheeks. You shake your head, tears welling, brimming at the edges. She smiles gently, “I’ll take that first, between us, then.” More tears fall but you nod, obedient. Fearing what will happen should you disobey. She’s being so gentle with you, and you don’t think you can stand another round of Rhysand’s games.

The High Lady swings a leg over your head, hovering above your mouth. The smell of her pussy is overpowering, making you go dizzy. Oh so gently, her arms loop beneath the small of your back, pulling you upward until her back is straight. The tops of your thighs settle seamlessly over her shoulders, baring your heat to her as if you’ve been served on a tray.

“Oh, sweet, sweet girl,” she breathes, pushing her nose to your entrance and inhaling deeply, like the High Lord had done. She seats herself on your mouth, and you can instantly feel how wet she is. You whimper. Her hips roll in response. “Come on, sweetness,” she encourages, “or should I let Rhys join?” Your tongue darts out, licking along to her centre. She moans, happily, basking in the feeling. “Perfect little thing.”

Feyre returns her mouth to your cunt, and for a while, you think you can cope. You think the worst of it has passed. Rhys isn’t able to touch you any time soon. At least, not while Feyre’s keeping him where he is, though you wonder how long that’ll last.

Her mouth disconnects from your cunt, and you almost whine in protest. “I did some thinking,” she murmurs, drawing your attention. “Your husband…” You can tell she still angry even at the mention of him. She takes in a deep breath, before delivering a small lap over your clit, as if to remind her that you are hers now. He’ll never put his hands on you again.

Well…

“I thought you might like to be with him one more time…” Your stomach drops. She reaches into her pocket, pulling out your husbands fingers, cloaked in magic. Even Rhys’ breath catches, before it’s exhaled in a quiet moan. “So I took the liberty of bringing parts of him to you, since he’s now incapacitated.” Pain lances in your chest, and Rhys blankets your mind to keep it from shattering. Dulling the information.

Her hips wind over you, slightly demandingly. “I think I’m being very kind, sweet thing. Show your gratitude.” You’re more or less unaware of what’s about to happen, following her commands brainlessly. He’s keeping you just to the surface of consciousness. Enough to give you breath, but not enough to escape.

Your mouth reattaches to her sex, even if a small part of you screams against it.

She presses the tip of something against your entrance, and you whine, hips bucking upward. She laughs softly, “you don’t even know what I’m doing to you, do you?” She pushes it all the way in, and Rhys’ hand fists around his cock. An open mouthed moan is released onto her pussy at the feeling of the slight, phallic object.

“Oh well done, sweet thing. Taking all of it, aren’t you? So good.” Her mouth reattaches to your cunt, and you release a pleasured moan that you can no longer contain. How did things get so messy? They were your friends. You could trust them. Yet here you are, with Feyre mounted atop your face, Rhys having already had his turn with stimulating your body.

She moans against your clit, lips kissing up and down your heat as she drinks you in until your fluttering on her mouth. Her tongue was a joyous reprieve from the High Lord, pleasuring you enough to gently spin you over that high, but not enough to throw you off the edge to crash down.

You’re swimming in pleasure, so overstimulated, so worn out, that it takes them a while to notice you’ve passed out. When they do, they stop—albeit reluctantly.

Feyre settles beside you, tucking both of you beneath the covers as her arms encase you, leaving her mate to clean up the mess. When he does, he crawls in beside you, his arms pulling both his female’s close to him. His wings materialise, wrapping over the both of you, concealing their crime from the world as they keep you slotted between them. Quiet, peaceful breaths puff from your lips as your human body recovers from the events.

They litter kisses over your exposed skin while you sleep, one for every star they see you in.

Taglist: @myheartfollower

[feyres-divorce-lawyer]

flirting sexual harassment

[potatoplace]

Mastermind - Part 2

Dark!Feysand x Reader

Part 1 | Poly!ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist

Story Summary: Your friend of a few months, Feyre, invited you out for a celebratory drink over your new job, and of course her husband Rhys joins you. The night doesn't go quite as planned, and you end up back at their place with very few wits about you.

Warnings: non-con, abduction, being kept prisoner, smut, drug use (pot)

Words: ~5k

Author's Note: it's here! Feyre... you live in my head rent free so often... also this is just like a purely self indulgent fic at this point, I think it'll be a mini-series. Please read the warnings!

18+ only pls

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

You woke up with a headache and a confusing ache between your legs.

Your bed was comfier than usual, and so, so warm. Almost like you had a heated blanket going. You mouth cracked open into a yawn, and you stretched your limbs as far as you could-

Which wasn't far.

Both your legs and arms bumped into something solid and warm, surrounding you on both sides.

Your eyes flew open, very, very confused when you saw your friend Feyre laying to your right, and her husband Rhys on your left and-

You're naked.

Completely bare between the two of them, with absolutely no memory of how you got there. Your face flushed with heat.

God, what have I done?

Your tried to wiggle your way out from between the two of them, but one of Rhys's arms merely locked tighter around you, pulling you further against him.

He's naked. You could feel him hardening against you already as he stirred slightly, burying his face in your hair.

You struggled slightly, trying to move away from him, he's your friend's husband for crying out loud.

"What's wrong, sweetness?" Feyre's sleep heavy voice asked from your right. Her hand moved up your thigh and over your stomach, coming to rest between your breasts.

You pushed her hand off of you. "I'm so confused right now, Fey, why are Rhys and I naked? I should go," you said, moving to sit up, but Feyre's hand shot out to keep you down, and between her and Rhys you were powerless to move.

"You're never going to leave us again, darling," Feyre said, wiggling closer to you and pressing her body against yours- she was naked as well.

What the fuck did I do last night?

"Feyre, let me up," you demanded, doing your best to get her hand off of you, but in your struggle you must have woken Rhys up.

"Is there a problem, ladies?" His sultry voice sent shivers down your spine. Your always found it attractive, but now? Trapped between him and your best friend? You wanted nothing more than to bolt out of their apartment and back to yours and never come back out.

"Rhysie, she's trying to leave," Feyre said poutily, hand rubbing circles onto your stomach.

"And why would our sweet little kitten want to leave, hmm?" He asked, lips finding your neck and pressing soft kisses along the expanse of it. "You were so happy last night, sweet thing, what changed?"

You shook your head- this was wrong, all of this was wrong. And Rhys's lips had brought to your attention something wrapped around your neck snugly.

"This isn't right, I can't even remember what happened last night," you said, tears leaking from your eyes now, and you brought a hand up to your throat, fingering the fabric on your neck. Is it leather? Is it-

"You put a collar on me?" You asked, disbelief in your voice as your fingers attempted to tear the item from your body.

"I figured you might freak out, sweetness," Feyre tutted from beside you, a hand raising your grasp both of yours. "You're ours now, Y/N, you just need a little help realizing that. That's what the cute little collar is for, just to keep you from running away like the silly little kitten I think you might be." Feyre's voice was soft but condescending as she explained it to you, but you were still so lost.

"I don't understand, Fey," you cried, attempting to pull your body out of their embraces. "We're friends, you're married. This isn't okay."

Rhys shushed you, running his hands over your hair. "We might be married, but you're the secret missing piece we've been looking for, kitten. From the moment Feyre introduced me to you, I knew what she meant when she said she had to have you. Neither of us can resist how absolutely sweet and lovely you are." You went to open your mouth to protest, but Feyre's mouth covered yours in a heated kiss. "You'll realize just how much you can't resist us either, soon," Rhys added when he felt you involuntarily relax into Feyre's dominating hold over you.

"As for the not remembering last night..." Feyre started when she finally pulled away from claiming your mouth. "I think I know the perfect way to fix that," she said with a smirk, already moving down below the blankets and between your thighs.

"Feyre stop," you pleaded. "I don't want this, I want to go home," you cried, fat tears rolling down your cheeks.

"Really?" Feyre asked with a smirk, dragging a finger through your folds and collecting the wetness that had pooled there. "Because this sweet little pussy says otherwise."

Tears fell from your eyes faster, shame welling within you as Feyre sucked her finger clean, closing her eyes as she did so. Feyre lowered her mouth to your sex in the next moment, not wasting any time in working you up to your breaking point.

You were still so sensitive from whatever they had done to you last night, and with Feyre’s tongue working your clit like magic you could hardly keep yourself still, even as Rhys pinned down your torso. One of his hands was fondling your breast and keeping you in the bed while the other ran through your hair and kept your face tilted towards Feyre.

You could see her face well again, now that the blanket had slid further down the bed while you twitched and writhed in their hold and against the pleasure Feyre was giving you. Her eyes were locked on your face, taking in every detail as you got closer and closer to the brink with every delicious swipe of her tongue.

To you it was wrong, all wrong. You didn’t want to be reacting, to even be warming their bed at all, yet you were trapped here as the couple worked you into your first orgasm of the morning against your will.

The strangled moan that left your throat was enough to have Feyre smirking up at you from between your thighs.

“See? You love us, and what we can give you. And we love you, Y/N.”

“No you don’t, Feyre, this isn’t love,” you cried softly, too tired and ashamed to put up much of fight anymore.

“It is, darling. We love you,” Rhys reiterated, peppering your neck and face with kisses as if to prove his point. “Now, will you let us feed you? I imagine you’re hungry after all the work we did last night,” he said with a dirty grin, two fingers pinching your right nipple.

Feyre began to move back up the bed and you took the opportunity to roll to your right into the spot that she had occupied while the three of you slept. Feyre sighed.

“Rhys, you can go take a shower and then start breakfast, okay? I’ll get this one into the shower after a little more… persuasion,” Feyre said in a disappointed tone.

Rhys chuckled, but got up from the bed anyway and walked into the bathroom. “Tell me pancakes or waffles after I come back out, darling.”

Feyre’s hands were pulling your back against her front snugly, allowing no room for you to escape the soft press of her body. Once you’d calmed a bit, she let one of her hands snake down between your thighs, gathering a bit of wetness from your center and then rubbing quick circles on your clit.

So sensitive. Her deft fingers brought you to completion twice in the time it took Rhys to finish showering and enter the room for his clothing.

You were a whimpering mess by the time he rounded to the side of the bed you were facing, leaning into Feyre’s embrace as she forced you closer and closer to a third orgasm in such rapid succession.

“I see, you’re just more comfortable with Feyre, hmm?” Rhys asked as he pulled your lower lip between his thumb and forefinger. “I guess I’ll just have to spend every waking second of the next week getting you used to me,” Rhys said with a smile before heading to leave the room.

“Pancakes,” Feyre told him, right as her fingers brought you to your fourth orgasm of the morning.

“Got it, darling. Make sure to actually get her in the shower, okay?”

Feyre’s merely lowered her lips to the left side of your neck, sucking a pair of dark, claiming marks over the spaces that Rhys had left unmarked.

Your breathy, contented sigh shocked you so thoroughly you jerked from Feyre’s hold finally and landed on the carpeting.

“Oh, sweetness, still afraid of liking us?” Feyre asked amusedly, bringing herself to the edge of the bed. “Don’t worry, you’ll get over that in a couple of days, I think. Unless you decide to be a brat and fight your fate which, I might add, is useless. Rhys and I love you, Y/N.”

You shook your head at her words. “This is wrong, Feyre, you know it’s wrong. You can’t just keep me here,” you said indignantly, getting up from the floor on shaky legs and attempting to cover yourself with your arms.

“Why not?”

You scoffed. “Because, Feyre, I am a human being and not a pet. I have a life and people that care about me, you can’t just abduct me and get away with it!”

“People that care about you? You have me, Y/N. Your family is mostly dead and the ones that are alive, you don’t talk to! And you even told me that I’m the first friend you made in Velaris, you belong with me. You have belonged to me ever since I first saw you in that coffee shop.”

“What about my job? I have a job, Feyre, they will be worried when I don’t actually start in a few days,” you told her desperately, hoping for any shred of the kindness you’d thought your friend had possessed before today to shine through.

“At the marketing firm? Rhys owns it, sweetie, his cousin Mor manages it. She already knows that you won’t be starting, you have a much better life set up for you now.”

You stared at her in shock. Had everything about your life recently been one big set up?

"What did you do Feyre?" You asked her, despair lacing your tone. If she was telling the truth, then there was no way out of this for you. And-

Oh my god. Your apartment here. Feyre had recommended it.

"I didn't do anything, Y/N. I suggested the job at the marketing firm because you were working yourself to the bone at that coffee shop, dear. I couldn't stand to see you suffer," Feyre explained, prowling across the room to stand in front of you. You were backed against the corner of the room now, with nowhere to go. "And I suggested the apartment here because we have good security, and I've seen the way your regulars would look at you, like they were just waiting to snatch you when the opportunity presented itself." One of Feyre's hands comes up to cup your face, following you as you turned away, still finding its mark. She turned your face back to look at her, and her eyes held such a fiercely protective look, you almost couldn't get your next words out.

"How are you any better than them?" You asked quietly, instantly taking note of how her eyes darkened with anger. "You snatched me away, Feyre, not any of those men. So how are you-"

Feyre surged forward, cutting your words off by slotting her mouth over yours. The kiss was harsh, claiming as she pulled your naked body against hers even as you struggled and tried to pull away.

"I love you, Y/N. And I would never, ever hurt you..." Feyre trailed off as her fingers played with your hair once you'd stopped fighting her. You opened your mouth to refute that claim, but she started speaking before you could. "I am not hurting you, sweetness. You simply don't know what is best for you right now, and sometimes we just need to be shown the right path." You went to argue again- "Now, if you don't shower with me, you won't be given any clothes to wear for the next week," Feyre said with finality.

Fight her, continue to feel disgusting in the off chance that she doesn't still force you to shower, and have no clothes for a whole seven days, or don't fight her, deal with it this once, and have clothes.

You didn't fight as Feyre steered you by the shoulders into their grand bathroom, stopping by the large triple sink counter. She carefully removed the collar from your neck with some type of key, then led you straight into the massive shower that had four huge, separate shower heads- one on each of the three walls, and one overhead.

You turned around right as Feyre started the shower, turning on just the three wall spouts. Water hit you from three sides, and Feyre came at you from the remaining one.

"Do you remember anything from last night?" Feyre asked softly as she ran her hands over your body, passing over your nipples far more times than you felt was necessary. You shook your head. All that you could vaguely remember was getting to the bar Feyre had suggested. “That’s too bad, sweetness. You were very eager last night,” she said with a smile, and your cheeks flushed. “Don’t worry, at some point you’ll be able to admit to yourself how much you want us. For now we’ll just keep reminding you how much we want you.”

Feyre gently tipped your head back to wet your hair, taking her time to get it soaked in the warm spray. Her nails scratched lightly along your scalp, and you nearly sighed at the soft gesture.

This is not the same friend you’ve known all these months, you reminded yourself.

Before today, you would have never guessed you would be taking a shower with Feyre. A small part of you had maybe dreamed about it, but never would you have thought it would become a reality. Especially with the added element of you being forced.

Still, you couldn’t help but relax into Feyre’s gentle grasp and she shampooed your hair, then rinsed the lather from it, being careful to not get any suds in your eyes. The shampoo smelled just like the one you used before all of this happened. Strange. When Feyre began putting a thick conditioner in your hair, you realized it.

They don’t just smell like the products you use at home, they are the products you use at home.

Your accusatory glare hit Feyre once she was done rubbing the conditioner in.

“What?” Feyre asked innocently as she wet her own hair.

“Why do you know what products I use?”

Feyre smiled. “I pay attention, dear. I wanted to make the transition as comfortable as possible for you, so I got everything I could think of that you use regularly. Now, will you help me wash my hair?”

You didn’t move.

“Pleaaase, Y/N?” Feyre asked again, a pouty look on her face now, one that you were rarely able to resist.

“Fine. Which bottles?” You conceded, grabbing the shampoo bottle she pointed to and squeezing some out into the palm of your hand. You lathered it up, then set to working it through Feyre’s thick, golden brown hair. When you rinsed her hair, you wanted to let soap run into her eyes, but couldn’t let yourself for some reason. You repeated the process of working the conditioner through Feyre’s hair, and once you were done she turned around to fade you again.

“Time to rinse yours, cutie,” Feyre said, already tipping your head back into the water to rid your hair of conditioner. Again, her nails scraped along your scalp gently, just enough to get your body to relax more. When she finished, she grabbed a cloth and loaded it with body wash, one that smelled of lilacs and pears- very Feyre. Feyre soaped up your body slowly, lingering in the sensitive areas as long as she could before you started to fight her hold again. She helped you rinse off, then extended the cloth to you. “Do me?”

You shook your head. No. “I already washed your hair, Feyre, just let me get out please.”

Feyre sighed, and started washing her body. “You can’t get out yet, you still need to wash your face. I’d suggest it after last night,” Feyre said with a wink, and your stomach churned.

You don’t really want to know what that comment was about. But you wash and exfoliate your face nonetheless, using the identical products to those you had before, finishing just as Feyre was done washing her own face.

She turned the water off, and grabbed two fluffy towels off of the rack for the both of you. She wrapped one around herself, then patted you dry, taking her time to get every inch of skin and dry your hair as much as she could before she dried herself off.

Feyre went to the sink closest to the shower, and you spotted all of your skincare and hair care products lined up attractively behind the middle sink. Feyre was already doing her routine as you examined the bottles and jars, picking out what you wanted to use.

At least they’re giving you something normal.

Once the two of you had finished, Feyre locked the collar back onto your neck, then pulled you back into their bedroom, the massive bed lurking in your vision no matter where you turned. Feyre grabbed two sets of clothing, pulling on her own outfit. First was a lacy black set of lingerie that looked flawless on her, then a pair of black leggings, a rich brown sweater, and slippers.

She then forced you to let her dress you, slipping a pair of blush pink panties up your legs to settle snugly on your hips, and a matching colored bralette over your breasts, which she had for once refrained from squeezing. Your arms were lifted above your head to let a soft pink, long sleeved peasant dress fall over your body, and you were instructed to sit to allow Feyre to put white knee high socks onto your legs and slip your feet into cute pink slipper booties. You caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror as Feyre dragged you out of the bedroom. You look cute, if you had to describe the outfit. It’s similar enough to the style you wear on your off time, though everything seems to be made of higher quality materials than what you were able to afford.

The door to the bedroom led to a short hallway, which Feyre led you to the open end of, coming out in the living room. The two of you walked to dining table, near the far end of the open concept room. There was already a good amount of food on the table, and Rhys was just walking away from the stove with a large plate of pancakes in hand, a large smile spreading across his face when he spotted the both of you.

“And I was just thinking I might have to come and get you girls,” he said with a grin. “Come and sit down, breakfast is ready.”

Rhys pulled out a chair for you, pushing you in once you’d sat down and repeated the gesture with Feyre, who was sitting to your left. Rhys then took the seat to your right at the head of the table and began piling food onto your plate. A couple of sausages, pieces of bacon, chunks of cut up melon, and of course pancakes.

You didn’t think you could eat.

If you had woken up in a separate bed this morning, all of this would feel normal enough. Feyre and Rhys had let you stay over once before, and the following morning had a breakfast similar to this.

But everything had changed, you weren’t here because your friends were kind and invited you, you were here because they had trapped you here. You had a collar wrapped around your neck, that alone would be reason enough for you to want to leave.

“Eat up, darling,” Rhys said as he moved on to plating his own food.

You stayed still, staring down at the food that had your stomach turning.

Feyre’s elbow nudged you gently, and you instinctively looked to your left.

“Go ahead and eat, Y/N,” Feyre said gently. When you still didn’t move, she sighed. “Not eating won’t do anything for you, sweetness. Have just one of everything, please,” she begged, using her soft eyes that were so hard to resist.

So, even with your stomach protesting, you lifted a bite of pancake to your mouth, chewing and swallowing but tasting nothing. Maybe if you play along for a little bit, they’ll let their guard down and you can escape.

Feyre and Rhys chatted about their jobs as the three of you ate- Feyre about her studio, and Rhys about the various businesses under the Night Corporation umbrella. You choked down each bite of food, doing your best to keep attention off of you.

A phone ringing cut through their chatter, and Feyre sighed as she picked it up.

“What?” She asked, annoyance clear in her tone. “Can’t you deal with it? I have something important today,” Feyre said, shooting a smile your way. The person on the other end replied with something that made Feyre groan. “Fine, I’ll be there in a half hour.”

Feyre dropped her phone onto the table and ran her hands over her eyes. “Well, I have to go into the studio, apparently the art class has taken a drastic turn that only I can fix,” Feyre whined. “Will you be okay here with just Rhys, sweetness?”

You raised a brow at her. “As though I have a choice?”

Rhys chuckled at your words. “That’s true, Fey, she’s stuck with me for the day. I’ll take good care of her, don’t worry.” Dread pooled in your stomach at his words. You don’t want to know what type of ‘care’ he has in mind.

Feyre was still staring at you, like she wanted to say something, then looked away when she stood up. “I shouldn’t be gone more than an hour, but I’ll text you to let you know if there’s anything that will hold me up,” she remarked as she placed a kiss on Rhys’s cheek, and one on yours as well. “Love you guys!” Feyre said as she was walking out of the door, purse in hand.

“Love you darling!”

In the silence that followed the door slamming shut, the dread in your stomach grew.

“So, would you like a little tour?” Rhys asked, already stacking your breakfast plates together.

You stared at him. “A tour?”

Rhys smiled. “Yes, darling, a tour. You need to know your way around now that you’re living here. And don’t say no, this is mandatory,” he added when you shook your head.

He placed the dishes in the sink before smoking back to the table, pull in out your chair and extending a hand to help you stand. You ignore it, standing on your own, which made Rhys sigh.

“Right this way, darling,” Rhys said, pulling you by the hand back towards the hallway containing their bedroom. You dug your feet into the ground, unwilling to enter the bedroom with him. Rhys stopped walking and turned to face you. “What’s the problem, doll?”

“I am not going to take this sham of a ‘tour’ if it just means that you’re going to rape me.”

Rhys’s eyes softened at your words, and he pulled you into a hug even as your tried to resist his hold. “Oh, darling. You won’t have to worry about that. I won’t fuck you until you are begging for my cock.”

“Like that will ever happen,” you spat, finally wrenching yourself free of his grasp.

“Oh, it will,” Rhys said assuredly, smirking down at you. “Now, will you let me give you the tour?”

You sighed, but did feel mildly better knowing that he supposedly wouldn’t be forcing himself on you. “Fine."

He continued to lead you back down the hallway their their bedroom resided, but stopped at the doorway opposite it. He swung it open, and gestured for you to walk inside. When you did, your jaw dropped.

It’s as though they had gone into your mind and plucked your perfect bedroom out of it just to recreate it here. The walls were in a soft, dusty pink color with a pale cream ceiling. There was fluffy pink carpet on the floor, looking so soft and squishy you wanted to be barefoot on it. At the far end of the room was a large canopy bed, decorated in hues of pink and purple, with a mound of pillows against the wall. There was a dresser and large closet off to the left, and on the right there was a small sitting area gathered around a table with a tv on it, your favorite consoles already lined up and plugged in, along with stacks and stacks of your favorite games. There was even a cute pink mini fridge and little snack shelf, all filled with your favorites.

“Do you like it?” Rhys asked hesitantly from his place in the doorway.

“Do I-?” You stopped to laugh. “Do I like it? It’s like the two of your read my mind. How?”

Rhys’s cheeks colored slightly as he met your eyes. “Feyre had the idea to look through your Pinterest, and you had a board dedicated to your dream room, so she worked tirelessly to get this ready for you.”

The thought and effort would have been sweet- were they not keeping you here against your will.

You just sighed and shook your head. “Is there more to the tour?”

Rhys nodded and grabbed you by the hand once more. He showed you around to the various guest rooms, the guest bathroom, then to Feyre’s home studio and his office, and finally you were back to the living room. The two of you were stood in front of the couches, looking out at their pool and massive patio.

“Do you want to play a game together?” Rhys asked, gesturing to the double TV and console set up in front of you. “We can play whatever you want, you can even play alone,” he offered.

Strangely, this request put you at ease even more than him saying he wouldn’t fuck you. Almost like it confirmed that the Rhys you had known was still in there, just… different. Darker.

“I don’t know…”

“We could smoke a joint,” Rhys said in a sing-songy voice, having grabbed one out of a box on the coffee table. “Or two. Or three. Just something to help you get your mind of things, maybe?”

The offer was tempting. You could pretend like you were just hanging out at your friends’ house and playing a video game with him.

“Sure, why not?”

The feeling of smoke filling your lungs calmed you down, settling you into a sleepy state where you weren’t thinking about the situation and how fucked up it is, just the passing flow of the river of your thoughts. You and Rhys shared two joints together on the patio, passing it between puffs.

“You know that Feyre cares about you, right?” Rhys asked as he took the second lit joint from you. You exhaled the smoke from your mouth, watching as it was whipped away by the wind.

“I don’t know that I would call this,” you gestured around you and at the collar, “caring about me.”

Rhys sighed. “But it is, Y/N. I know we went about it in a twisted way, but Feyre and I truly want you to be happy and safe. And before you ask, no, I won’t let you go. Just give us some time, you’ll come see how nice your life can be here and how much we care about you.”

You took the joint back from him with a pout, annoyed with him now. Sure, they care about me enough to steal me away and lock me up, but not enough to let me make the choice myself.

“I don’t have much of a choice, do I?”

Rhys laughed sadly. “No, you don’t. But giving us a chance will make this much more enjoyable for you.”

You took another long drag before passing the joint back to Rhys’s waiting fingers.

“Will you… would you convince Feyre to not… touch me until I’m begging?” You asked hopefully, knowing that that day would never come now.

Rhys eyed you carefully. “I can talk to her about that, if it would make you feel more at ease around us darling."

A weight was lifted off your chest at his confirmation that he would wrangle Feyre in. He let you take the last drag before putting the joint out, and followed you back into the living room.

“Do you have Minecraft?” You asked hopefully, wanting to dick around and maybe build a cute house.

“Of course, darling,” Rhys said, booting up the TVs and consoles, passing a pink controller to you.

Within a couple of minutes, the two of you were as focused on the blocky game as you could be, your minds covered in a weed soaked haze.

Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff (let me know if you want to stay on the taglist for the mini series!)

[heaven4lostgirls]

sarah j maas is overall a bad human being consistently acting in ways that negatively impacts minorities and justifying her actions by ways of ‘ignorance’

ACOTAR is not this ‘great’ series of novels that will change the world, most of the content is plagiarized and the most complex of characters are written very surface level.

it is very obvious the books are written from a white woman’s perspective, and is arguably comparable to the writing and idealism of colleen hoover and the author of haunting adeline.

ACOTAR fans cannot sit back and defend this book when they realize how hypocritical and colonialist all of the novels are. the villianisation of tamlin, yet the glorification of rhysand is arguably one of the worst things to come out of the books, similarly with everyone’s excuse that what feyre did in the spring court was ‘excusable’ because tamlin ‘abused’ her.

read the last two posts i reblogged and any of the lovely @sonics-atelier ‘s posts on the critique of the acotar universe before you argue with me. their points are so valid and concise that i was unaware of some of the arguments and criticisms they had delved into.

they are eye opening and so very relevant to current affairs today. i beg if even one or two of you go to read some of these critiques, it would open up discussions about how problematic not only sarah j maas is, but white feminism as a whole, capitalism and colonialism too.

white female authors need to be held accountable to do better, especially those that have big audiences like sarah j maas, colleen hoover and the author of haunting adeline and similar ‘dark’ romance booktok books.

[cafe-viennois]

Feyre & Rhys 🌙

Nesta & Cassian 🦇

A little serie of illustrations I did for Inktober 2023!

[wallflowers-in-the-wind]

Reading Tamlin not holding back on his anger toward Feyre during the High Lord meeting has to be the best form of revenge he can do without causing another full out war. And Feyre and Rhysand deserved every bit of criticism and scathing remark against them.

I still can’t believe people defend Feyre’s actions during the meeting and against the Spring Court. Her problem was with Tamlin. Not the entire court who she previously kept insisting she wanted to help, whose lives she destroyed. She may have sworn to destroy everything Tamlin loves over actions that weren’t even his fault but punishing innocents out of anger is uncalled for.

From Tamlin’s perspective Feyre was SA and held captive by Rhysand. When she was finally home he apologized for what he did wrong and promised to be better and gave her space. He didn’t tell her about his secret about being a spy against Hyburn because he didn’t want to overwhelm her and still had some doubt that she truly was being manipulated and wanted to come back. Yet he still gave her a chance only for the woman he loved to manipulate him and destroy everyone and everything out of some form of sick revenge.

Even his best friend Lucien left him and while some of the reason’s were caused by Tamlin it was due to manipulation by Feyre. She made Tamlin believe she was having an affair with Lucien. Something I will never forgive because Lucien was innocent and was trying to help her ungrateful ass.

Everyone turned on Tamlin yet he managed to earn their trust again after being framed as an abusive partner. A mindset Feyre implanted in everyone’s minds not to mention the mind manipulations she used on Tamlin.

Feyre better thank whatever unnamed god SJM refuses to world build that Tamlin hasn’t gotten revenge against her for everything she put him and his people through and for being merciful enough to bring Rhysand back to life for her happiness. Because if Tamlin ever did decide to get revenge people would truly understand the wrath of Spring.

[belle-keys]

A strong suggestion of plagiarism: Detailing the similarities between Anne Bishop’s The Black Jewels trilogy and Sarah J. Maas’s ACOTAR series

Anne Bishop released her The Black Jewels trilogy between 1998 and 2003. It is a dark fantasy book trilogy, part of a larger fantasy saga within the world of The Black Jewels. Sarah J. Maas released the first book in her A Court of Thorns and Roses fantasy romance series, which goes by the same name, in 2015. This popular series of Maas is still ongoing.

For the last decade, many individuals have noticed glaring similarities between Maas’ fantasy series and Bishop’s earlier books. From character names to world-building elements and plotlines, several readers have concluded it is highly possible that Sarah J. Maas has plagiarized major aspects of Bishop’s work in the ACOTAR series. For purely legal reasons, I am hesitant to say outright that Mass indeed plagiarized The Black Jewels in ACOTAR. However, I do believe that there is very strong evidence indicating that Maas may have done so. Please note all my screenshots here are all from The Black Jewels and I can provide more if necessary.

This post presents my observations of the similarities between Maas’ book series compared to Bishop’s trilogy. Indeed, there are several elements that are near-indentical in Maas’ series compared to Bishop’s. Whatever is in brackets is my shabby-MLA-esque way of referencing in which specific book you can find the content I'm talking about. I am aware others have made similar posts on Tumblr and Reddit, and I salute them! Here, I am merely outlining what I have noticed myself, and I imagine there will be significant overlap between his post and others online.

The Eyrians and the Illyrians

The Eyrians are a winged warrior race in TBJ, described as having tanned skin, black hair, gold eyes and "batlike wings". They are one of the long lived races and live thousands of years, based upon a lofty mountain range in their realm. They are a warrior race with a long history of physical fighting, often reputed to be "backward" by aristocrats in their realm (DOTB, HTTS). Their "dark, membranous" wings are the prized physical feature among their race and they have a tradition of turning to militarism and barbarism during skirmishes (DOTB). Cutting off or clipping an Eyrian's wings is the greatest torture and the worst dishonour for a warrior (HTTS). The Illyrians in ACOTAR are a virtually identical winged mountain warrior race with a similar culture and physical features including "black, membranous" wings and tanned skin (ACOTAR). The Eyrians, like the Illyrians, yearn for freedom of their expansive mountains and the war camps within them.

Eyrian males are raised to be warriors in hunting camps in the mountains, while females are forbidden from touching weapons and are confined to domestic pursuits. Eyrian women are often mistreated and are usually expected to be docile and subservient to their militaristic males (QOTD). This is the same gender construct present among the Illyrians in ACOTAR.

The Eyrians in TBJ carry prejudices against half-Eyrians, similar to the Illyrians' prejudices against "half-breeds" like Rhysand in the ACOTAR series (ACOMAF). The word “half-breed” is actually used to describe an important half-Eyrian in TBJ, Lucivar Yaslana.

The Eyrians have a practice known as the "Blood Run" which is a rite of passage taken by skilled Eyrian warriors in their mountains, rather similar to both "Nephelle's Run" and the "Blood Rite" which we learn about in ACOWAR and ACOSF respectively.

Powerful Illyrians, like Cassian and Azriel, use siphons—colourful, jeweled gauntlets that channel and hone their magical power. This is eerily similar to the way aristocrats in TBJ use jewels to channel and concentrate their power. The Illyrians also wear fighting leathers while the Eyrians wear black skintight leathers to go to battle.

Lucivar Yaslana and Cassian

Lucivar Yaslana is an Eyrian male who commands a large portion of the Eyrian troops. He is described as a "bastard", both as an insult and a jest in TBJ, because his father and his mother were unmarried and he did not grow up knowing his father who’s the High Lord. The same situation is pertinent to Cassian in ACOMAF whose "bastard reputation" precedes him.

In QOTD, Lucivar begins training Eyrian females to defend themselves and fight military-style, which is a radical move in the realm and receives a lot of push-back from fellow Eyrian males. Lucivar wants to make sure the Eyrian women tap into their strength, at least a little, to prevent them from being helpless when under attack or in battle. There's a few heartwarming training montages in QOTD where he whips them into shape. Cassian leads a similar initiative in ACOSF where he trains Illyrian women so they learn to defend themselves and some even become respected warriors.

Lucivar has gold eyes, big wings, big muscles, shoulder-length dark hair, and light brown skin. Cassian also has gold eyes, big wings, big muscles, shoulder-length dark hair, and light brown skin. Lucivar ultimately reports to the authority of his queen and serves her faithfully just as Cassian reports to authority of his High Lord and Lady and serves them faithfully.

Daemon SaDiablo and Rhysand

Daemon SaDiablo of TBJ was forced to serve as a sex slave in the court of an evil priestess, Dorothea of Hayll, and he has experienced a lot of trauma and pain for hundreds of years due to being forced to serve in the bedchamber of this abusive enslaver. Rhysand similarly serves as a sex slave to Amaratha for 50 years when she builds her court Under the Mountain. In TBJ, the evil queen who conquers the realm through cruelty and corruption, Dorothea, enslaves multiple males to serve her in bed and she even banishes Lucivar to land's brutal "salt mines" when he becomes disobedient. Daemon is known as "Hayll's whore" by the public in DOTB just as Rhysand is known as "Amarantha's whore" by the public in ACOTAR.

Daemon has jet-black hair, golden skin, and a frighteningly beautiful face. Daemon is also known as a natural Black Widow, one of the one only male Black Widows ever in their world. As such, Daemon is one of the most powerful males in all the realm. Rhysand, similarly, has dark hair, a stunningly beautiful face, and has unique powers making him the most powerful High Lord. Daemon, like Rhysand, becomes the highest ranking male in his "Dark Court" and he is also the main love interest (QOTD).

Daemon has a habit of putting his hands in his pocket when he's nervous and/or trying to intimidate people. Rhysand has the same habit. Daemon is feared for his sadism and power in TBJ but is, deep down, a good person and a devoted lover, similar to Rhysand’s persona being much crueler and sadistic than his real personality (ACOMAF).

Daemon originally starts seeing the protagonist of the series, Jaenelle, in his dreams and he recognizes while enslaved that she is the realm's salvation (DOTB, QOTD). Rhysand also begins seeing glimpses of Feyre in his dreams while enslaved Under the Mountain and he knew she was Prythian’s hope (ACOMAF).

Wingspans

We know that in the ACOTAR world, the wingspan of an Illyrian male is supposedly proportional to their, yunno, male parts. This is also the case in The Black Jewels where, in the second book, we learn a male's wingspan also corresponds to the size of his… down there.

Scents and gender

In TBJ, magical figures have the abilities to identify or smell another person based on his or her "psychic scent", which is their unique scent. The psychic scent also allows them to sense the magical abilities, emotions and traumatic experiences of other persons. Romantic couples also have a keen awareness of their partner's scent. This is the likewise the case in the ACOTAR world where mates and fae can identify and read each other based on specific scents including their arousal.

In TBJ, you can put up a "psychic shield" to stop someone from peering into your thoughts and reading you through your psychic scent. It's the same in the ACOTAR world, a concept introduced in ACOMAF, where you can put up a mental shield or barrier to stop someone like the daemati from breaking into your mind.

The males in TBJ can become quite territorial and possessive over their women and mates, almost animalistic based on their emotions. They purr and snarl and growl quite often, and Sarah J. Maas uses identical descriptive language regarding the bat boys.

Dragons and Amren

There's an older female character called Draca in TBJ who is a dragon in human form, trapped in a human body. Draca, who serves in the main character's Dark Court, has to decipher old texts in the TBJ because she is the only one who understands the ancient languages they contain. Draca is referred to as the "ancient one." This is exactly like Amren being known as the little "ancient one", a powerful angel in human form who is the only one that can decipher the Book of Breathings in ACOMAF.

There is a "creature" deep beneath the Keep and library of the High Lord of Hell in TBJ who, in HTTS, turns out to be a mighty dragon whose name is Lorn. Likewise, beneath the library in Velaris lurks Bryaxis who is a dangerous dragon-esque creature (ACOWAR).

Other worldbuilding plotpoints

There are “High Lords” of various realms in The Black Jewels and High Lord is not a traditional feudal title throughout history or mythology. One major character in TBJ is the High Lord of Hell, Saetan SaDiablo. His court, and that of his adopted daughter, is known as the Dark Court or the "Court of Darkness". Rhysand is the most powerful High Lord who presides over the Night Court which is also, in many ways, Prythian's own Court of Darkness.

The Dark Court in TBJ has a "first circle" that is comprised of the queen's most trusted courtiers. Rhysand's Court of Dreams in ACOMAF also has an "inner circle".

Jaenelle is known as "Dreams Made Flesh" because of her immense power and ability to deliver her lands from evil. Jaenelle was a saviour-figure who was dreamt up by the "dreamers" in her realm who were suffering and oppressed for many years, ruled over by cruel queens (QOTD). Likewise, the Court of Dreams and Feyre's defeat of Amarantha were, more or less, the product of dreamers who wished upon the stars (ACOMAF). Just like how Feyre possesses the power of all seven High Lords, Jaenelle is the magical figure to possess the power of all the various colored jewels in TBJ.

There is a character named Prythian in The Black Jewels who is a powerful priestess, and the main land that the ACOTAR series is set in is called Prythian. There's also an assassin-prostitute character in TBJ named Surreal, and the Suriel is character in the ACOTAR series.

The sigil/seal of Janelle's Dark Court in TBJ, we learn in the second book, is an image of a mountain with a unicorn’s horn above it. The main sigil of the Night Court in ACOTAR is a mountain below three stars. The vastness and freedom of mountains are a motif in both TBJ and ACOMAF.

Conclusion: There are others online who have pointed out the similarities between The Black Jewels and the Throne of Glass series, but it’s been many years since I read Throne of Glass and I’m rusty so I won’t touch it. Did Sarah J. Maas rip off Anne Bishop’s work? I think it could be proven in a court of law, but I’m quite hesitant to say outright that she’s guilty of plagiarism. Is Sarah J. Maas guilty of serious unoriginality? Yes, definitely. A preliminary search online will tell you that Sarah J. Maas has openly praised Bishop’s writing and she has even said that Lucivar is her favourite fantasy man of all time. Bishop's books were released when Maas was a teenager. Make of this what you will.

I’ve used a variety of tags on this post because, honestly, I’m not sure whether it falls into the “anti” category of posts or not. I think this post neutral in tone and exists just to catalogue the similarities between both series. I hence believe both fans and antis might appreciate it... for different reasons.

[juriansgeneralgoods]

y'all: I can't believe you would ship these two characters who canonically have spoken on multiple occasions! they are nothing more than a CRACKSHIP!!!

me, an intellectual: I think the reason Dagdan and Brannagh never picked up on Jurian being a mole despite literally being able to read minds is because they did try to read his mind but Jurian spent every waking moment that he was in the Spring Court imagining a threesome between him, Feyre, and Lucien that was so graphic that even those freaks were like "yeah, no thank you. we don't need to see that any more."

[a-b-riddle]

Kinktober 2024 Lineup (so far)

Day 1: Mind control (Rhysand/Reader)

Day 2: Boot humping (Cassian/Reader)

Day 3: Spit & Shibari (Azriel/Reaser)

Day 4: Facesitting (Feyre/Reader)

Day 5: Primal Play (Rhys, Cassian, Azriel/Reader)

Day 7: Train & Blindfolds (Inner Circle/Reader)

Day 8: Petplay (141/reader)

Day 9: Spanking (Gaz/reader)

Day 10: Pegging/Chasity Cage (Soap/Reader/GhostGazPrice)

Day 11: Watersports (Price/Reader)

Day 12: Double Penetration (Steve & Bucky/Reader)

Day 13: Cockwarming (Andy Barber/Reader)

Day 14: Anal Training (Simon/Reader)

Day 15: Consensual Servitude (Rhysand & Feyre)

Day 16: Lactation (Bucky/Natasha/Surrogate Reader)

Day 17: Manipulation (Price/Reader)

Day 18: Fucking Machine poll

Day 19: Stuck in the wall (Lloyd Hansen / reader

Day 20: Fisting (Cassian)

Day 21: Body Worship (Price)

…

Day 31: Aftercare (tbd)

[alexcollix7]

Sarah J Maas: plagiarism or inspiration

In this post we are going to discuss the various and stricking similaries between Sarah J Maas series TOG/ACOTAR with original books she admited to consume, as well as the use of direct lines from movies, books and tv shows in her books, and where do we draw the line in what we consider to be inspiration vs plagiarism.

As some people know, SJM is a big fan of Anne Bishop's work, especifically her Black Jewels trilogy. Some people already noticed similarities between the two series (and in her TOG books as well) in terms of storyline, races and characters, but it's not nearly talked about enough.

It's good to make clear that the first book of "the black jewels" was published in 1998 and the last one of the trilogy was published in 2000, over 12 years before acotar and TOG was even launched. So Bishop's work was around a long time before sjm started to publish her books.

That being said, let's start with the fact that the beginning of her first series TOG is pratically the same as the beginning of the second book of The Black Jewels, Heir to the Shadows, but with a different character:

"After a year of slavery in the Salt Mines of Endovier, Celaena Sardothien was accustomed to being escorted everywhere in shackles and at sword-point. Most of the thousands of slaves in Endovier received similar treatment—though an extra half-dozen guards always walked Celaena to and from the mines. That was expected by Adarlan’s most notorious assassin. What she did not usually expect, however, was a hooded man in black at her side—as there was now" (TOG, 2012)

"Surrounded by guards, Lucivar Yaslana, the half-breed Eyrien Warlord Prince, walked into the courtyard, fully expecting to hear the order for his execution. There was no other reason for a salt mine slave to be brought to this courtyard, and Zuultah, the Queen of Pruul, had good reason to want him dead. Prythian, the High Priestess of Askavi, still wanted him alive, still hoped to turn him to stud. But Prythian wasn't standing in the courtyard with Zuultah." (Heir to the Shadows, 1999).

So, Sarah's first work begins with a paragraph that is already really really similar to the first one in Bishop's second novel.

Now, let's then move on to the part that shocked me the most and made me sure of doing this post: The extreme and undeniable resemblance between the Illyrians with the Eyriens, a race portrayed in Bishop's Black Jewels books, who one of the main characters, Lucivar (coincidentally or not, Sarah's favorite one) is a part of.

The Eyriens are described to be warriors with tanned skin, gold eyes, and "batlike wings". Eyrien males are trained in hunting camps as children, and the females are forbidden to touch weapons. They are often found in a mountainous territory called "Askavi Terreille", and carry prejudice against half-eyriens. Does all that sounds familiar?

The Illyrians are so much like the Eyriens, it's not even funny. They have bat-like wings, the males are trained in camps, live by the mountains, have their own personalized weapons, and the females are usually mistreated and not allowed to fight. And what does Rhysand suffer from them? Prejudice, because he's half illyrian. Even their physical characteristics are the same: golden brown skin, hazel eyes, black hair. What mainly sets on them apart is their names (which still sound pretty similar) and the fact that the illyrians have tattoos.

"He spread his dark, membranous wings, trying to ease the ache in his back." ( Daughter of the blood, page 12)

"Indeed, it was still Rhysand’s face, his powerful male body, but flaring out behind him were massive black membranous wings—like a bat’s, like the Attor’s" (ACOTAR, page 348)

"Still, it was home, and centuries of enslaved exile had left him aching for the smell of clean mountain air, the taste of a sweet, cold stream, the silence of the woods, and, most of all, the mountains where the Eyrien race soare" (Daughter of the blood, page 16)

"The Illyrians … We love our people, and our traditions, but they dwell in clans and camps deep in the mountains of the North" (ACOMAF, page 165)

"He had never felt this weary, this beaten. Not as a half-breed boy in the Eyrien hunting camps, not in the countless courts he'd served in over the centuries since" (Heir to the darkness, page 13)

“When I turned eight, my mother brought me to one of the Illyrian war- camps . To be trained, as all Illyrian males were trained" ( ACOMAF, page 168)

”She kept resisting because Eyrien females traditionally didn’t touch a warrior’s weapons" (Queen of the darkness, page 151).

“Some camps issued decrees that if a female was caught training, she was to be deemed unmarriageable. I can’t fight against things like that, not without slaughtering the leaders of each camp and personally raising each and every one of their offspring.” (ACOMAF, page 434)

”There are reasons why Eyrien males are the warriors— Lucivar said, his eyes skimming over the women as he paced slowly down the line and back again.— We’re bigger, stronger, and we have the temperament for killing. You have other strengths and other skills. Most of the time, that works out well." (Queen of Darkness, page 156)

“The  Illyrians— Rhys smoothly cut in, that light finally returning to his gaze — Are unparalleled warriors, and are rich with stories and traditions. But they are also brutal and backward, particularly in regard to how they treat their females.” (ACOMAF, page 166)

"She wanted to cut the wings off, raise the boy as Dhemlan maybe. But he said no, in his soul the boy was Eyrien, and it would be kinder to kill him in the cradle than to cut his wings" (Daughter Of The Blood, page 138)

“I banned wing-clipping a long, long time ago, but … at the more zealous camps, deep within the mountains, they do it." (ACOMAF, page 434).

"But they’re good boys, and they’ll carry their weight. And they are full-blooded  Eyriens — he added.

— So they don’t carry the stigma of being half-breeds? — Lucivar asked with deadly control." (Queen of the Darkness, page 39)

"He gave Rhys command of a legion of Illyrians who hated him for being a half-breed" (ACOMAF, page 136)

"Then he called in his Ebon-gray Jewels and the wide leather belt that held his hunting knife and his Eyrien war blade" (Heir to the shadows, page 257)

"I went from physical defense to learning to wield an Illyrian blade, the weapon so fine, I’d nearly taken Cassian’s arm off." (ACOMAF, page 367)

Some people can look at this as simple inspiration, but others consider the races to be almost identical. Their prejudices, the place they live, the place where they train and how they train being the same, with only a few minor key points being changed.

In Bishop's work men and women are adressed and divided as "males" and "females". Their society is based the existence of jewels, where the darker someone's jewel is, the more powerful that person becomes.

The jewels are close to what SJM called siphons, used by the illyrians. They are a representation of the powers of members of the blood, serve as containers, and vary in colors. Siphons, however, are literally jewels who filter Illyrians powers, manipulating magic. Members of the blood can have more than one jewel, and illyrians can have more than one siphon.

"An uncut Jewel is a rare thing, little Sister —   Titian said, removing something from the box.    — Wait until you know who you are before you have it set. Then it will be more than a receptacle for the power your body can't hold; it will be a statement of what you are." (Daughter of the blood, page 71)

"He held up his hands, the backs to me so both jewels were on full display.— They’re called  Siphons . They concentrate and focus our power in battle.” (ACOMAF, page 162)

"The Black-Jeweled ring on his right hand glittered with an inner fire." (Daughter of the blood, page 39)

"Siphons atop his scarred hands flickered like rippling blue fire as he reached for the Attor." (ACOMAF, page 262)

" Your fingers clenched around that Jewel. There was a flash of Red light, and the guards were flung backward." ( Daughter of the blood, page 136)

"Cassian lifted his hand into the air. Red light exploded from his Siphon, blasting up and away" (ACOMAF, page 543)

"Her strength was gone. The Jewel hungaround her neck, dark and empty" (Daughter of the blood, page 399)

"Azriel’s blue Siphons were dull, muted. Utterly empty."  (ACOMAF, page 554)

The Blood possess some ability to sense and mask their psychic scent. The conception of "scent" not only acts as a way for them to recognize each other, but also sense their emotions, and seems to be highlighted between couples, with Daemon for using it in order to fantasize or look for Jaenelle. That matches perfectly SJM's universe where the Fae are able to feel each others scents, sensing their emotions through it, it being stronger between mated couples:

"The psychic scent was almost gone, but he recognized it. A dark scent. A powerful, terrifying, wonderful scent. He breathed deeply, and the lifetime hunger in him became intense".(Daughter of the blood, page 178).

"Like the body that housed it, a witch's psychic scent had a muskiness that a Blood male could find as arousing as the body—if not more so" (Daughter of the blood, page 184)

His  scent  drifted to her, darker, muskier than usual. She’d bet all the money she didn’t have that it was the scent of his arousal. (ACOSF, page 235)

"A room where she had slept would still be strong with her psychic scent, even if it had been cleaned"  (Daughter of the blood, page 182)

"Cassian had flown back up to the House. And found the oak door to the stairs open, Nesta’s  scent  lingering." (ACOSF, page 99)

"No psychic scent of emotions for the guards to play with as they put the sobbing man into the old, one-man boat." (Daughter of the blood, page 149)

"He didn’t need to use a psychic probe to know who was on the other side of the door. The scent of her fear was sufficient." (Queen of the darkness, page 120)

"Their faces were vacant. Not a trace of fear in them, or in their scents." (ACOSF, page 344)

"Those of us who have would notice the similarities in your psychic scents and reach the correct conclusion" ( Queen of Darkness, page 114)

"He didn’t believe me. So he grabbed Catrin, because our scents were nearly identical, you see" (ACOSF, page 652)

The basic unit of Blood society and government is a Queen and her Court. To create a Court, she must be at the age of majority and have twelve males who agree to be in her First Circle. Jaenelle creates hers in the second book, who is  denominated as the "dark court". How is Rhysan's court called? The night court. How is his unity of power named? "the inne circle". Rhysand's court is also referred as "the court of dreams", and Jaenelle is called "dreams made flesh".

"He hoped she'd be pleased to have the use of this place. He hoped he'd be invited when she established her own court. He wanted to see whom she selected for her First Circle" (Daughter of the Blood page 92)

"They’re Rhysand’s Inner Circle.The ones I’d heard mentioned that day at the Night Court—who Rhys kept going to meet." (ACOMAF, page 135)

"The living myth— Saetan whispered.— Dreams made flesh— His throat tightened. He closed his eyes." (Heir to the shadows, page 459)

“And what is this court? — I asked, gesturing to them. The most important question.

It was Cassian, eyes clear and bright as his Siphon, who said — The Court of Dreams.”

Remember Lucivar? The main Eyrien character? Well, it doesn't help sjm's case that he's incredibly similar to Cassian:

Because he's an eyrien, Lucivar was raised as a warrior and has bat wings, together with gold eyes and tanned skin. He also has long black hair and is considered to be well-built. Initially his jewels are birthright red, and later they descent into being ebon grey. Just like his father, he is known as having an explosive temper who often lead him to trouble. Thanks to him not being recognized by Saetan initially, Lucivar is seen as a bastard. This is not at all far from how Cassian is written.

Let's also keep in mind: Lucivar is also responsable for recruting and training Eyrien warriors in the Dark Court, later training the women who live in Ebon Askavi (which, as I will show later, is almost identical to the House of Wind).

Cassian's tragetory is marked by him being underlooked as a "bastard" and not being able to control his temper, and that is further developed in acosf. His appereance is carbon-copy of Lucivar (the only difference being that his eyes are hazel), and his siphons are red. He also happens to train illyrian warriors, and later Feyre, Nesta and the other priestesses from the library. Like Lucivar has a brotherly bond with Jaenelle and waits for her to be his queen, Cassian has a brotherly love for Feyre and respects her as his high lady:

"Unlike the other slaves who couldn't contain their misery or fear, there was no expression in Lucivar's gold eyes" (Daughter of the Blood, page 13)

"Like their High Lord, the males—warriors—were dark-haired, tan-skinned. But unlike Rhys, their eyes were hazel and fixed on me as I at last stepped close" (ACOMAF, page 155)

"She looked so pale against his light-brown skin, and he knew it wasn't simply because she was fair-skinned" (Daughter of the blood, page 19)

"She watched his light brown fingers play against her pale skin" (ACOSF, page 367)

"The man wore a leather vest and the black, skintight trousers favored by Eyrien warriors. His black hair fell to his shoulders, which was unusual for an Eyrien male. [..] A wild joy filled Daemon, even as his heart clogged his throat and tears stung his gold eyes. Lucivar." (Queen of the Darkness, page 45)

"Cassian surveyed Rhys from head to foot, his shoulder-length black hair shifting with the movement" (ACOMAF, page 155)

"Because he was a half-breed bastard, he had no hope of attaining a position of authority within a court, despite the rank of his jewels" (Daughter of the Blood, page 17)

"I can tell you how I hear Eris and Devlon and the others talk and, deep down, I still believe that I am a worthless bastard brute. That it doesn’t matter how many Siphons I have or how many battles I’ve won" (ACOSF, page 434)

"Tears stung Lucivar's eyes. Why, Daemon? What did she do to deserve being hurt like that?  His voice rose. He couldn't stop it. She was the Queen we had dreamed of serving. We had waited for her for so long.  You butchering whore, why did you have to kill her?" (Heir to the shadows, page 31)

"He’d thought about that painting a great deal in the days afterward—how it had made him feel, how close they’d all come to losing their High Lady before they’d ever met her." (ACOSF, page 43)

"Because he was a trained Eyrien warrior and had a temper that was explosive even for a Warlord Prince" (Daughter of the blood, page 16)

"Cassian was lounging in his chair, a glass of wine in his hand, staring at nothing. A brooding warrior-prince, contemplating the death of his enemies." (ACOSF, page 275)

"He could have caught him on the first pass. The young one will have to concede the battle, but it’ll stay in his mind that he put up a good fight. No, Lucivar understands how to train an Eyrien warrior.” (Queen of Darkness, page 103)

"Cassian prayed that the gods were watching over him as Rhys sipped from his tea and said,    

—You’re ready?

He leaned back in his seat. — I’ve gotten young warriors in line before." (ACOSF, page 43)

There's even a line when Lucivar is training the women in ebon askavi that hits very close to one used when Cassian is training the priestesses:

”If you can become half as proficient with this as she is, you’ll be able to take down any male except an Eyrien warrior —  Falonar said slowly. — And you’ll be able to take down half of them as well.” (Queen of the darkness, page 158)

"Cassian continued to train Nesta, Emerie, and Gwyn. The rain didn’t let up, and they were all soaked, but the exertion kept the bite of the cold away.— So this can really down a male in one move? [...] He concentrated on the females in front of him. — This move will knock anyone unconscious if you hit the right spot.” (ACOSF, page 385)

Daemon, his brother, is too very similar to Rhysand. He has the reputation of a sadist, after being tortured and used as slave in the hands of Dorotothea, close to how Rhys was known as a cruel fae who had to serve Amarantha (the way they a called is also pretty much the same, as well, being referred as their "pet" or "whore"). Daemon believes to be destined to Jaenelle, even before meeting her, sometimes feeling her touch, and dreaming or her, just like Rhysand talks about knowing Feyre was his mate, and dreaming of her before they met. He, like Saetan, Jaenelle, and Lucivar, is a black widow: which means he can access people's minds and thoughts, as well as communicate telephatically, exactly how daemanti in acotar have the ability to do.

"His face was a gift of his mysterious heritage, aristocratic and too beautifully shaped to be called merely handsome. He was tall and broad-shouldered. He kept his body well toned and muscular enough to please. His voice was deep and cultured, with a husky, seductive edge to it that made women go all misty-eyed. His gold eyes and thick black hair were typical of all three of Terreille's long-lived races, but his warm, golden-brown skin was a little lighter than the Hayllian aristos—more like the Dhemlan race." (Daughter of the blood, page 24)

"I stepped out of the shelter of my savior’s arm and turned to thank him. Standing before me was the most beautiful man I’d ever seen. Everything about the stranger radiated sensual grace and ease. High Fae, no doubt. His short black hair gleamed like a raven’s feathers" (ACOTAR, page 193)

"I had no answer to that—to the tenor in his rich, deep voice. So I examined the tattoos on his chest and arms, the glow of his tan skin , so golden now that he was no longer caged inside that mountain." (ACOMAF, page 289)

"Daemon smiled that cold, cruel smile. "Now you know what it's like to get into bed with Hayll's Whore." (Daughter of the blood, page 77)

"Lucien interrupted — What do you know about anything? You’re just Amarantha’s whore.

— Her whore I might be, but not without my reasons.” (ACOTAR, page 239)

"In his soul, he knew her. In his dreams, he saw her. He never envisioned a face. It always blurred if he tried to focus on it. But he could see her dressed in a robe made of dark, transparent spidersilk, a robe that slid from her shoulders as she moved, a robe that opened and closed as she walked, revealing bare, night-cool skin. And there would be a scent in the room that was her, a scent he would wake to, burying his face in her pillow after she was up and attending her own concerns." (Daughter of the Blood, page 27)

“Three years ago, he said quietly,  — I began to have these … dreams [...] The images were foggy, like looking through cloudy glass. They were brief—a flash here and there, every few months. I thought nothing of them, until one of the images was of a hand … This beautiful, human hand. Holding a brush. Painting—flowers on a table.” (ACOMAF, page 504)

“I saw you through your dreams—and I hoarded the images [...] I’d wake up with your scent in my nose, and it would haunt me all day, every step." (ACOMAF, page 505)

"There was a bitter taste in Daemon's mouth. The ashes of dreams. After all, he was Hayll's Whore, a pleasure slave, an amusement for the ladies no matter what their age, a way to pass the time" (Daughter of the blood, page 267)

"And he would be at that table in the town house, roaring with laughter—never again cold and cruel and solemn. Never again anyone’s slave or whore" (ACOMAF, page 497)

"You're my Queen,he thought fiercely. His body ached. She was his Queen. But with her family surrounding them, watching, there was nothing he could say or do to help her" (Daughter of the blood, page 360)

"My equal in every way; she would wear my crown, sit on a throne beside  mine. Never sidelined, never designated to breeding and parties and child-rearing. My queen." (ACOMAF, 598)

"He caught her wrists, holding her off with an ease that made her scream. He hit the Black shields on her inner barriers hard enough to make her work to keep them intact, but they wouldn't keep him out for long." (Daughter of the blood, page 302)

"My innate talents allow me to slip through the mental shields of anyone I wish, with or without that bridge—unless they’re very, very strong, or have trained extensively to keep those shields tight." (ACOMAF, page 59)

At some point Daemon is even called Jaenelle's mate:

"He’s here! Jaenelle’s mate is finally here!  Daemon felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him" (Heir to the shadows, page 117)

His position and title of highlord is parallelled a lot by how Saetan is decribed:

"High Lord of Hell, the Prince of the Darkness, the most powerful and dangerous Warlord Prince in the history of the Blood" (Daughter of the darkness, page 266)

"For what it’s worth, I’m the most powerful  High Lord in Prythian’s history" (ACOMAF, page 145)

Moving on to other similarities, Ebon Askavi, known as the black mountain or "the keep", who is put as a sanctuary, keeping a library containing the history of the blood, matches the form in which the house of wind is developed in sjm's books, with the palace also being embedded into a mountain. The Keep is a safe place where the high lord of hell reserves for the demon dead to rest, same as Rhysand turning the library into a home for the priestesses. And the whole Bryaxis situation? A creature who lives in the pit of the library? Well, Ebon askavi used to be the home of the prince of dragons: Lorn, who guess what? Used to reside beneath it. Finally, Bishop literally describes the palace as the place where "The winds meet".

"Saetan limped across the empty courtyard to the huge, open-metal doors embedded into the mountain itself, rang the bell, and waited to enter the Keep, the Black Mountain, Ebon Askavi, where the Winds meet. It was the repository for the Blood's history as well as a sanctuary for the darkest-Jeweled Blood. It was also the private lair of Witch" (Daughter of the blood, page 59)

"Draca led him through the corridors of  Ebon Askavi  toward a large stairwell that descended into the heart of the mountain." ( Daughter of the blood, page 431)

“Her throat closed at the surge of memories and at the sprawling view—the glimmering ribbon of the Sidra far below, the red-stoned palace built into the side of the flat-topped mountain itself." (ACOSF, page 49).

“I made this library into a refuge for them. Some come to heal, work as acolytes, and then leave; some take the oaths to the Cauldron and Mother to become priestesses and remain here forever" (ACOWAR, page 212)

"She still served the Keep itself, looking after the comfort of the scholars who came to study, of the Queens who needed a dark place to rest" (Daughter of the Blood, page 61)

"—  Who was here before them?

  —  A few cranky old scholars, who cursed me soundly when I relocated them to other libraries in the city. They still get access, but when and where is always approved by the priestesses.” (ACOWAR, page 213)

“There is a creature beneath the library. Do you know it?

Amren shut the book.

— Its name is  Bryaxis.

— What is it.

— You do not want to know, girl.” (ACOWAR, page 452).

"Mother Night, Saetan — Geoffrey said, his breathing ragged.  — The Keep is his lair.

He's been here all the time.

He hadn't expected Lorn to be so big. "(Heir to the shadows, page 476)

As for Amren being a unknown creature who was tuned into a faerie and lived centuries before everyone else? Same thing as Draca. She lived by the time Dragons ruled the world and was later turned into something "human", assisting the high lord of hell:

"When only the Queen and her Prince, Lorn, were left, the Queen bid her Consort farewell [...] When the last scale fell from her, she vanished. Some stories say her body was transformed into some other shape, though it still contained a dragon's soul" (Heir to the shadows, page 375).

  "— Why won’t Amren go in here?

  —  Because she was once a prisoner.

  — Not in that body, I take it.

   A cruel smile.

  — No. Not at all.” (ACOMAF, page 185)

"Spiraling? — Geoffrey thought for a moment and shook his head. — No, but that doesn't mean it can't happen. Ask Draca. Compared to her, you're still in the nursery and I'm just a stripling." (Daughter of the blood, page 243)

"In the countless millennia they had existed here in Prythian, Rhys—Rhys with his smirking and sarcasm and bedroom eyes ...And Amren was worse. And older than five thousand years." (ACOMAF, page 145)

"When they had first arrived at the Keep, Lucivar had given him a cryptic warning: Draca is a dragon in human form.The moment he’d seen the Seneschal, he’d understood what Lucivar meant. Her looks, combined with the feel of great age and old, deep power, had fascinated him." (Queen of the darkness, page 252)

"Because even though the short, delicate woman looked like High Fae … as Rhys had warned me, every instinct was roaring to run. To hide. [...] But Amren’s eyes …Her silver eyes were unlike anything I’d ever seen; a glimpse into the creature that I knew in my bones wasn’t High Fae. Or hadn’t been born that way."  (ACOMAF, page 158)

"Draca asked. Her unblinking reptilian eyes revealed nothing" (Daughter of the blood, page 431)

You can also find some of the names of characters and places of Anne Bishop's books in Sarah J Mass ones. For instance: Sarah admited Prythian was a trick on Pryddain from the chronicles of Pryddain but that she couldn't put the original name because it belonged to Phillip Alexander, so she choose Prythian. But one of the high priestesses in Bishop's trilogy is indeed named Prythian.

"Prythian, Askavi's High Priestess, couldn't leash his temper enough to serve witches he despised" (Daughter of the blood, page 16)

If you look at the titles of some of the TOGs books, you realize they are alike Anne Bishop's as well:

The thing is: where do we draw the line when it comes to inspiration in books? It's common to have some similarities between author's works, however, to have that many in lines, places, plots, on top of races and characters who are nearly identical to the ones someone created fourteen years before you? I don't know.

I don't appreciate Bishop's work, in fact, I suffered a lot to go through the trilogy, for problems like: explicit sexual violence, mutilation, and worst of all grooming (Daemon meets his so called soulmate when she's a child, and he kisses her when she's 12), which literally made feel sick, but, is clear Bishop came up with a lot of things a long time before SJM did.

Because her series of books came out by the 2000, most of sjm's target audience doesn't know Bishop's work, making it very easy to avoid comparison. This is one of the reasons why this situation becomes a big problem, because most of her fans think SJM work is totally original, and that she came up with 99% of the concepts by herself.

Besides the black jewels, Sarah was said to have taking scenes, plots and quotes from other original productions/books, like the lord of the rings (which she's also a huge fan):

For example, The White Tree of Gondor and Kingsflame.

The White Tree of Gordon only blooms when the rightful ruler sits on the throne. Coming to later bloom in Aragorn's coronation:

"And so the kingdom of Gondor sank into ruin, the line of kings failed, the white tree withered and the rule of Gondor was given over to lesser men."

Kingsflame, however, it’s a magical flower that first bloomed when Brannon arrived, proof that was a good king:

 "since those ancient days, only single blossoms had been spotted, so rare in their appearance that their appearance was deemed a sign that the land had blessed whatever ruler sat on Terrasen’s throne. (KOA 686)"

Similarly, the flower also blooms after Aelin’s Coronation:

Across every mountain, spread across the green canopy of Oakwald, carpeting the entire Plain of Theralis, the kingsflame was blooming. (KOA 984)

We also have the scene when Haldir arrives at helms deep:

"I bring word from Elrond of Rivendell.  An alliance once existed between Elves and men. Long ago we fought and died together. We come to honor that allegiance."

While Manon says this in KOA:

"Long ago the Crochans fought beside Terrasen, to honor the great debt we owed the Fae King Brannon for granting us a homeland."(KOA, page 693)

And don't forget, Aragorn saying:

"My friends, you bow to no one"

While Rhysand says this in ACOWAR:

"You bow to no one, was all he replied"

Don't forget, the conversation between Theoden and Gamling in the Two Towers movie:

"Theoden: Who am I, Gamling?

Gamling : You are our king, sire.

Theoden : And do you trust your king?

Gamling : Your men, my Lord, will follow you to whatever end.

Theoden : To whatever end... "

Followed by this conversation between Rowan and Aelin:

“—To whatever end? — she breathed.

Rowan followed her, as he had his entire life, long before they had ever met, before their souls had sparked into existence. —“To whatever end, Fireheart.”

We also have other examples, like treasure island:

"Look at you! Glowing like a solar fire. You're something special, Jim. You're gonna rattle the stars, you are!"  (Treasure Island-2003)

"You could rattle the stars," she whispered. "You could do anything, if only you dared. And deep down, you know it, too. That’s what scares you most. "( TOG page 385, chapter 54)

ASOIAF:

A quite similar phrase to "Queen that was promised" was used in GRRM’s ASOIAF,  where an ancient prophecy talked about a "Prince who was promised",  later it being reveleaded that they expected a boy, but the title was said to fall to Daenarys Targaryen (a queen). This is mentioned in " A dance of dragons" which was published in 2011. This prince is also mentioned as being “the Heir of Fire”.

"Westeros must unite beneath her one true king, the prince that was promised, Lord of Dragonstone and chosen of R'hllor" ( A dance with dragons, 2011)

"Perhaps it had all been for nothing. The Queen Who Was Promised" (KOA, page 121, 2018)

"He is fire made flesh, she thought, and so am I."  (A dance with dragons, page 949, 2011)

"Fire - he reminded her of fire made flesh."  (ACOWAR, 2017)

Harry Potter is added to list, as well:

Dumbledore: Do not pity the dead, Harry. Pity the living, and, above all those who live without love. (HP and the deathly hallows, page 705, 1997).

Rhysand: Be glad of your human heart, Feyre. Pity those who don’t feel anything at all. (ACOTAR, page 418, 2012).

"Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light." (Harry Potter and the prisioner of Azkaban, 2004)

“Light can be found even in the darkest of hells” (ACOWAR, page 577, 2017)

The movie spirit:

Little Creek: Take care of her, Spirit-who-could-not-be-broken (Spirit, 2002)

Nehemia: I name you Elentiya, ‘Spirit That Cannot Be Broken.' (TOG, page 44)

Shadow and Bone:

The quote "like calls to like" explains one of the most important plot points in shadow and bone, the first book was published in 2012, and Sarah was mentioned in Leigh's acknowledgments as the person who gave her first review. She had used "magic calls to magic" before in throne of glass in 2012, yet the book was published in august, while Shadow and Bone came out before, in june. The principle of "like calls to like" in her books was mentioned by the time ACOMAF came out, in 2016, four years later. It was also used to describe attraction to objects of power, which follows Bardugo's concept.

Shadow and Bone: The grounding principle of the Small Science was “like calls to like" (page 113)

ACOMAF: The box—the Book—was silent. Then it said, Like calls to like  (page 350)

“The Grisha claims the amplifier, but the amplifier claims the Grisha, as well. Once it is done, there can be no other. Like calls to like, and the bond is made.” (page 130)

The movie troy:

"Menelaus : Prince? What prince? What son of a king would accept a man's hospitality, eat his food, drink his wine, embrace him in friendship, and then steal his wife in the middle of the night?

Paris : The sun was shining when your wife left you." (Troy, 2004)

“If you hadn’t stolen my bride away in the night, Rhysand, I would not have been forced to take such drastic measures to get her back.

I said quietly, The sun was shining when I left you.” (ACOWAR, page 396, 2017)

The Land before Time:

"Some things you see with your eyes. Other things you see with your heart." ( The Land before Time 1988)

"Some things you hear with your eyes. Other things you hear with your heart."( Crown of Midgnight, page 168, 2011)

Mulan:

"Shan Yu: How many men does it take to deliver a message?

The other Hun: One.

The Hun proceeds to shoot one of the imperial soldiers with an arrow." (Mulan, 1998)

“But it seems like tonight isn’t really your night, Elide said to the ilken, lifting the hatchet again over a shoulder. The ilken might have been whimpering as she smiled grimly.—Because it only takes one to deliver a message. And your companions are already on their way.

The axe fell.

Flesh and bone and blood spilled onto the stones.” (Empire of Storms, page 455, 2016)

There's more to show about the black jewels, but this posts is already huge, so I'm going to finish by talking a little bit about her new series: Crescent city, which people already pointed out to be similar to another series she also talked about before: The Fever series by Karn Marie Moning, published in 2007. Now, I don't think is the same case as the black jewels, because crescent city does follow a much more different story, but is still have matching characters and main storyline.

Darkfever tells the story of MacKayla, a girl who seemingly had a perfect life. After the murder of her sister, she sees herself obligated to make an alliance with the mysterious Jericho in order find her killer, whilst exploring her sidhe-seer powers. Crescent city, on the other hand, is also about a girl losing people close to her: her best friend and her crush, then deciding to solve their deaths by teaming up with the fallen angel Hunt.

Mackayla is a sidhe seer, a person who can see fae, and ends up in the book series as their queen, while Bryce is half fae. They are both extremely attractive girls, who love to party and take good care of their appereance. Jericho, however, is a handsome, tough supernatural being who resources to Mac in order to find answers, ending up getting involved with her. Lastly, Hunt is a fallen angel, who needs to make sure Bryce cooperates with the investigation, and develops feelings for her.

"My sister's whole body had holes in it, Inspector! Not just her arms! The coroner said they looked like teeth marks! — Not of any person or animal he'd been able to identify, though.— And parts of her were just fora!— I was shaking. I hated the memory. It made me sick to my stomach" (Dark Fever, page 71)

"She knew in her bones it was not a hallucination, what lay on that bed, knew in her bones that what bled out inside her chest was her heart. Danika lay there. In pieces" (Crescent City, page 74)

"Grieving wasn't going to bring her back, and it sure wasn't going to make me feel better about whoever'd killed her walking around alive out there somewhere, happy in their sick little psychotic way, while my sister lay icy and white beneath six feet of dirt" (Dark Fever, page 10)

"Briggs planned to hurt people, and he deserved to be in jail, but—he’d been wrongly accused of the murder.Danika’s killer was still out there" (Crescent City, page 145)

"I think I just finally expelled the last drop of moisture from my body that wasn't absolutely necessary to keep me alive. And rage watered my parched soul. I wanted answers. I wanted justice.I wanted revenge." (Dark fever, page 11)

"She didn’t know where to start.But she’d do it. Find whoever had done this.[...] She ground her teeth. She’d find whoever had done this and make them regret ever being born." (Crescent City, page 164)

Once again, Hunt has the exact same appeareance as Jericho, and their personalities are also pretty much alike.

"He studied me with his predator's gaze, assessing me from head to toe. I studied him back. He didn't just occupy space; he saturated it.The room had been full of books before, now it was full of him. About thirty, six foot two or three, he had dark hair, golden skin, and dark eyes. His features were strong, chiseled." (Dark Fever, page 36)

"An angel who reason and history reminded him was an ally, though every instinct roared the opposite.Predator. Killer. Monster. Hunt Athalar’s angular dark eyes, however, remained fixed on the window. On Bryce Quinlan." (House of earth and blood, page 80)

"Hunt nodded once, his golden-brown face betraying nothing." (House of earth and blood, page 81)

"Then the male leafed through Quinlan’s thin file, his shoulder-length black hair slipping over his unreadable face." (House of earth and blood, page 81)

Darkfever presentd V'lane as a third character, an attractive seelie prince, who rules the Tuatha Dé Dannan, and happens to go after Mackayla as revenge against Jericho. In crescent city, there third main character is Ruhn, Bryce's half brother, and who is he? A crowned prince of the fae. And what is his last name? Danaan.

"Even today, after all that I've seen, I couldn't begin to describe V'lane, prince of the Tuatha Dé Danaan." (Dark Fever, page 134)

"Thinking she’d get a nice, sweaty ride with a Prince of the Fae, she’d be sorely disappointed. He was in no shape for fucking right now." (Crescent city, page 199)

“I got a phone call, Naomi said. From Ruhn fucking Danaan. He’s livid that we didn’t notify Sky and Breath about bringing in the girl." (Crescent city, page 96)

The scene where Hunt goes to watch over Bryce in her apartment follows the exact same patterns of the scene Jericho goes to visit Mackayla in her home:

"A moment later, her phone buzzed on the coffee table. Right as her show began.She didn’t know the number, but she wasn’t at all surprised when she picked up, plopping down onto the cushions, and Hunt growled,

— Open the curtains. I want to watch the show.” (Crescent city, page 84)

"Someone knocking at my door awakened me [...] I glanced at my watch. It was two o'clock in the morning. I was sleepy and grumpy and didn't try to disguise it.

—Who is it?

— Jericho Barrons." (Dark Fever, page 40)

“Open the curtains.

— No, thank you.

— Or you could invite me in and make my job easier.

— Definitely no.

—Why?

— Because you can do your job just as well from that roof.” (Crescent City; page 184)

"Do you intend to open this door, Ms. Lane, or shall we converse where anyone might attend our business? [...]. If he was willing to trade, I had to open that door. Unless…

— We can trade through the door, I said.

— No

— Why not?

— I am a private person, Ms. Lane. This is not negotiable." (Dark Fever, page 41)

"His dark eyes didn’t so much as blink. Striking—that was the only word Bryce could think of to describe his handsome face, full of powerful lines and sharp cheekbones. — You can make this investigation easy, or you can make it hard.” (Crescent City, page 187)

" When I said nothing, he said softly — If you are not with me, Ms. Lane, you are against me. I have no mercy for my enemies.  

I shrugged." (Dark Fever, page 46)

So, I do believe SJM is the type author whose actions we need to discuss. Even if you see the whole thing with " The black jewels" is just an inspiration, you can't deny the fact there some exact lines of movies and books in her work. Plus: it's not just one quote or just one plot, but many.

If you ever try to read The Black Jewels trilogy you'll notice much more than what I brought in this post, and I do hope more people are able to research it. However, if you have any triggers regarding SA, mutil*tion, abuse, gr*mming, or torture scenes, I strongly recommend you do not read these books. They are not easy to go through, and the same thing goes to Dark Fever, although is a lot lighter.

Now, you can find more about the "Lord of the rings" and "Harry Potter" situation in here:

This is not a post trying to "cancel" sjm or simply attack her without reason. But I do believe we have to talk about her work and the problems with it, especially when it involves the work of other writers. If anyone has any more examples, or articles about this matter, quote this post with them if you can. I couldn't put more because you have a limit for tumblr posts, and it would be way too much. Anyway, thank you sticking here until the end.

[yourlittlebunnyy]

a court of shadows and darkness - masterlist

acotar masterlist - other azriel works

Selaene, Rhysand's sister, Azriel's mate. She is young and inexperienced, and when the High Lord of Spring tries to kill her, she winnows and runs away. There's only a problem: she doesn't end up where she wanted. Will she find a way to get back to her family and her mate?

moodboard

prequel 2 3

prologue

part one

part two

part three

part four

part five

part six

part seven - currently working on this!

[tadpolesonalgae]

Hey! I love your work so much! I was wondering if you could write a fic about dark feysand being obsessed with a human reader who doesn’t want them

I’m going to post it tonight, and I want to emphasise, particularly for this fic, the importance of clicking off if you aren’t enjoying it. It’s not a challenge to see if you can get through it, it’s supposed to be enjoyed and if it’s not for you, it’s not for you and that’s fine.

Warnings: Non-con, smut, breeding kink, mean Dom!Rhys, dark!Feysand, mentions of rape, slight predator play, slight necrophilia (cut off fingers), mentions of torture.

(Dropping the warning section here so if anyone’s unsure you can think it over and put it on the shelf for a while)

[shallyne]

Not to get hot and heavy on main but I need a bat boy, a hawk boy, a fallen angel, a demon prince, a demon king, a dragon, a demon, a wingleader, a mafia guy with a motorcycle, a mafia heir, a mafia guy with one eye, a dude with death powers and/or the High Lady of the Night Court to fuck the depression out of me

And a talking sword to give me a pep talk

[potatoplace]

Mastermind

Dark!Feysand x Reader Modern AU

Part 2 | Poly!ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist

Story Summary: Your friend of a few months, Feyre, invited you out for a celebratory drink over your new job, and of course her husband Rhys joins you. The night doesn't go quite as planned, and you end up back at their place with very few wits about you.

Warnings: Drugging, dub-con / non-con, abduction, smut

Words: ~3.8k

Author's Note: so uhmmmm. This idea. Got me to write. Uhhh. Yeah. Enjoy. I sure did hehe 🤭 the chokehold feysand has on me recently is. Very strong. Near irresistible. There might be future parts to this, I'm not sure yet. Read the warnings please!!

18+ only pls

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

Tonight was supposed to be fun.

Your friends Feyre and Rhys had offered to take you out for a drink at Rita’s when she heard about your new job, doing remote work as a graphic designer for a marketing firm.

Feyre’s had suggested the job after all, knowing that your dream lay beyond the coffee shop that you currently work in- well, used to work in, you had quit earlier that day.

That, plus your new, upscale apartment that you rent at an amazing price had made your year considerably better than the last few.

And tonight was supposed to be fun, you had worn your smallest black dress, with tiny straps just barely holding it onto your body.

Yet here you were, being driven home after only two drinks, sitting in the backseat of Rhys and Feyre’s car in Feyre’s arm. You felt dizzy, and heated all over.

It was the type of drunk you rarely felt- overwhelmingly needy and aroused.

You just needed to make it home, and thankfully Rhys and Feyre live in the same building, so there’d be no problems with getting you into your apartment.

This building has way more security than your last apartment, there you were lucky to have never been broken into, with how many times your previous neighbors had been stolen from.

The car came to a slow, smooth stop, and you heard a car door open and shut. Then, one of Feyre’s arms moved from your body, causing you to whine as she opened the door on her side.

The door on your end of the car opened, and you were quickly pulled into the arms of someone warm and solid.

Keeping your eyes open was a struggle, but you managed to tilt your head up, gaze passing over a strong jaw, high cheekbones, and finally locking briefly with intense violet eyes. Rhys smiled down at you, eyes darkened with-

Something.

You were just tired and dizzy and you- oh, you need a shower. The water could drown out your noises, just in case the state you’re in makes you louder than usual. Your thighs rubbed together slightly as your mind wandered, already set on having the feeling of warm water hitting your skin and your hand between your thighs.

Your eyes closed as the three of you passed through a doorway, and a few dings of the elevator later Rhys is walking once more, gentle movements only making you sleepier.

He sets you on the floor gently once you’re in your apartment only-

It’s not your apartment.

“We didn’t think you should be alone right now, darling, with how you’re feeling,” Feyre explained softly, one of her hands already wrapping around yours. “Did you need anything?”

“A shower,” you blurted out, more than ready to have the smell of the club, however faint it was, off of your skin.

“That we can provide, darling,” Rhys said, smacking your ass as he walked away from the both of you. You turned to say something to him, but Feyre was already moving, leading you by the hand.

You passed though a luxurious bedroom, with a California king bed draped in black silk standing out most to you. You could see chains attached to the posts-

“Here we are, Y/N. Did you need help with anything?” Feyre asked, waving her hand to the large bathroom she had taken you too. The shower was open, no curtain or door to close it off from the rest of the room.

You simply shook your head. You could manage a shower on your own, surely, you were already feeling a little better than in the club. “Thank you, Fey,” you said softly, taking her in for a hug.

“Oh, it’s nothing sweetheart. Absolutely nothing,” Feyre replied, pushing the hair away from your face and gathering it into a bun for you, securing it with the scrunchie she’d gotten while you weren’t paying attention. She started the water for you before leaving the room, shutting the door behind her.

You used a makeup wipe to rid yourself of your makeup, feeling far too greasy to not wash your face, then quickly stripped off your dress and your panties and slipped into the stream of water, sighing when the warm water hit your skin. It felt just as good as you imagined- and then your thoughts went back to what you’d thought of on the way up the elevator.

Your hand slipped down, landing between your thighs as water poured over you. Your fingers dipped between your folds, your cunt already thoroughly drenched even without the water running between your legs. You swirled your fingers around your clit slowly, letting out soft sighs every now and then. The pleasure in your gut grew as you moved them faster-

“Y/N? Did you need help with anything?” Feyre asked through the door, and you quickly moved your hands from between your thighs.

“No, Fey, I’m alright,” you said, cheeks blazing with heat.

“Rhys had a nice idea, would you like to go swimming?” Feyre offered, and you turned to your right to see that she’s in the room with you. You covered your chest, keeping as much of yourself hidden as you could.

Swimming could be nice. And you’d seen their pool, it had such a pretty view, and you’d never gone in it before. You nodded your head, eyes taking note of the bikini in Feyre’s hands.

“Good, you can wear this, darling. I’ll be waiting for you outside, don’t take too long,” Feyre said, blowing you a kiss before she closed the door behind her.

Your cheeks heated even further, you’d never had such a nice and friendly female friend before, let alone such a pretty one. Your thoughts strayed to what Feyre would look like in a bikini- absolutely perfect, you were sure. Fingers dipped back between your thighs, rubbing quick circles over your clit, you just needed to cum once, once then you could go enjoy the rest of your night with your friends-

A knock at the door, right as you were about to finish.

Feyre entered without waiting for you to respond, this time without the stunning black dress she’d been wearing before. Instead, she was completely naked.

You blushed profusely, turning your eyes away from her.

“Oh, darling, you can look all you like. I just thought, since you’re taking so long and I need to shower, I’d come in and just get mine done at the same time.” Feyre paused. “I could leave, if you’d like,”

Your brain was short circuiting, being so close to your incredibly beautiful, incredibly sexy friend of a few months. “Oh, that’s, uhm… that’s fine, Fey.”

Feyre smiled, getting a bit closer to you. “Good. Did you need help getting clean, sweetness?” Feyre asked, her chest nearly touching yours, still covered by your arms. She already had a cloth filled with soap in her hands and began running it across your shoulders soothingly. Your arms slowly feel from your chest, and Feyre took the opportunity to step closer, arms practically wrapped around you as she used the cloth to clean your back, her breasts pressed against yours.

You could hardly breathe, this woman, your friend was so perfect and naked and-

The cloth slipped over your cunt, Feyre’s deft fingers quickly rubbing it over your clit, and a quiet moan escaped you. The cloth was gone a second later, two of Feyre’s fingers sinking into your cunt as the other hand came to rub circles on your clit. You came shamefully quickly, already having worked yourself up so high before your friend entered the room.

“Good girl,” Feyre whispered against your ear before pressing hot kisses down your neck, only pulling away to grab the cloth off the floor of the shower and begin washing you once more. Once she was finished, she pushed you back into the stream of water, rinsing the suds off of your body. “Help me out?” Feyre asked, hands already pushing the cloth into yours. When you hesitated, she made puppy dog eyes at you. “I helped you, pleeease Y/N?”

That was all you needed, body moving of its own accord as your hands used the cloth to clean her body, trying not to linger too long on her breasts, ass, and her sweet looking pussy that at the moment you knew you wanted nothing more than to bury your face in. Feyre rinsed herself off, her hands lingering over the spots you’d wanted to touch longer. You were on the verge of getting on your knees and begging when Rhys’s voice came from the doorway.

“You ladies are so gorgeous,” he said, walking further into the room, and it was then that you noticed- he’s naked, his long, thick cock bobbing invitingly at you, already hard and waiting. You managed to snap your eyes away from him, only to land on Feyre’s chest.

Fuck, it should be illegal for these two to be this hot, you thought to yourself, thighs pressing together as you tried to look anywhere but at your two friends.

“Thank you, Rhys,” Feyre said, walking out of the shower and pulling him with her into it. “You can shower, the two of us will get in the pool. Right Y/N?”

You nodded, letting her grab your hand and lead you over to the towels. She dried you off, lingering over your sensitive areas longer than necessary, then helped dress you in the bikini she was lending you- if you could even call it that. It was practically strings, with small stars of fabric to cover your nipples and a slightly thicker strip of fabric to cover your cunt.

But, if your friends had already seen you naked… what’s the harm?

Feyre was dressed similarly, her bikini in black instead of your silver set. She pulled you out of the bathroom, through their bedroom and out onto the patio. Feyre sat at the edge of the pool, patting the ground next to her, and you joined her a moment later.

You sighed, then leaned your head onto Feyre’s shoulder.

“Feeling better yet, darling?” She asked, her right arm coming up to circle around your shoulders. You nodded against her shoulder, kicking your legs gently in the water. “I’m glad to hear it.”

“Would either of you ladies like another drink?” Rhys asked from behind you.

“Yes please, Rhysie,” Feyre responded. “She’ll have a soda, I think. Hmm, baby? Does that sound good?” You nodded your head in confirmation. In no world do you need another drink at this point, for gods sake your friend already made you-

“Let’s get in the water, darling.” Feyre slipped in the pool, water coming to just under her barely covered breasts. “Join me?” She asked coyly, and you couldn’t help but follow her in, making your way to her immediately. The water came up to your collarbones, your height difference feeling so pronounced as you looked up at her, half expecting her to make another move.

“Here we are.” Rhys’s voice cut through the bubble you and Feyre had been in for a moment. You turned to look at him and saw that he was already sitting at the edge of the pool the two of you had entered at, two drinks in hand.

You and Feyre made your way to him, happily taking the drinks from his hand and watching as he slipped into the pool. The height difference between the two of you took your breath away slightly, you felt so small next to him. You took a few greedy sips of your soda to cover up how flustered you are around the couple tonight, every little thing about them seems to be turning you on more and more.

Feyre had taken a sip of her drink and set it back down, choosing to follow Rhys a bit deeper into the water.

You could see as he cupped her ass in his hands, her legs wrapping around his waist as they kissed passionately in front of you-

And you wanted, no, needed to be a part of that, your body already moving towards them before you were able to stop yourself. You turned back to the edge of the pool, feeling hot and dizzy with need like you had been earlier at Rita’s. Quickly, you set your drink on the smooth stone at the edge of the pool and took a few deep breaths.

These are your friends. They’re married. Stop being a whore-

Arms wrapped around you, and Feyre’s soft chest met your back. “Hi darling, not getting too lonely, are you?” She asked lowly in your ear, then pressed a soft trail of kisses from behind your ear all the way down your neck and onto your shoulder. You were leaning back against her by the time she came back up to your ear, lightly tugging on it with her teeth. “Turn around for me, sweetness,” she told you, hands helping move you where she wanted. “Perfect,” Feyre said breathily, before leaning down and pressing her lips against yours softly. The feel of her plush lips on yours was perfect, so gentle and warm. After a few seconds her tongue darted out, and you let her take control of the kiss, dominating your mouth with hers as she pushed you back against the wall of the pool.

When the two of you came up for air, you were filled with need so great you thought you might burst. You noticed a strong, tan pair of arms caging the two of you against the pool wall, and looked up to meet Rhys’s gaze. His violet eyes were filled with lust, matching the grey blue eyes of his wife that were also locked on yours. “What do you say darling? Be ours?” He asked, eyes darting down to your lips.

You tried to think about it, really think about it, but one of Feyre’s hands was between your thighs again, pushing past the tiny bikini and playing with your clit. Your eyes fell shut at her touch, a moan already making its way past your lips.

“Please,” you whined, not fully sure what you were begging for, you just knew that you needed more.

One thick finger slid into you, nearly as big as both of Feyre’s were earlier, and another moan fell from your lips, this one going into Feyre’s shoulder where you’d collapsed into her, unable to hold yourself up any longer.

“Oh, sweetness, I think it’s time,” Feyre said, disconnecting herself from you. “Get her into the bathroom, Rhys,” she ordered, already pulling herself out of the pool.

You were barely keeping yourself up, but Rhys moved closer to you, pulling you in to his chest. His kissed you gently, drawing a sweet sigh from your lips before he stopped and pushed you up onto the ledge of the pool, then followed you up. He helped you stand, and picked you up after you nearly fell after three steps.

“Silly girl, don’t worry, we’ll have you all nice and comfy in bed soon,” Rhys said, carrying you into the bathroom, where Feyre was already naked and rinsing off. “You got to dress her, I get to undress her,” Rhys snapped at Feyre when she tried to come over to you. She rolled her eyes, but stayed under the stream of water, waiting for both of you.

Rhys slowly peeled the bikini off of you, taking his time to squeeze your breasts and pinch your nipples hard enough to make you gasp, and grazing his fingers over your sensitive clit teasingly a few times. As soon as you were bare Feyre came over and pulled you back into the shower while Rhys rid himself of his swim trunks.

The warm spray felt nice on your skin again, especially paired with the gentle touches of the couple surrounding your senses. One of them gently guided your face under the spray of water, and the other cleaned your face with a familiar smelling soap. They rinsed your face carefully, then shut the water off and four hands began drying you off. Once your face was dry you opened your eyes to see Feyre’s pretty ones staring back at you.

“Let’s get your skincare done, sweetness,” she suggested, leading you over to the counter after Rhys had finished drying your body. Feyre applied a toner, moisturizer and eye cream, all of them the same ones that you used daily.

“That’s funny…” you said, trailing off.

“What is, darling?” Rhys asked from where he was stood behind you, arms encircling your torso. You stared at his thick arms, how muscular they are… then you realized that you could feel him- hard and pressed against your lower back. “What’s funny?” He whispered in your ear, and you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what he was talking about.

You didn’t respond. More like couldn’t, when his lips started sucking a deep, purple mark onto your neck and Feyre’s lips covered your own hungrily.

You were nothing but a quivering, needy mess when they pulled away, but luckily for you it was just to move you into the bedroom, onto their massive bed.

“Finally,” Feyre groaned at the sight of you spread out in the middle of their bed, your legs kept apart by their hands. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to taste this sweet pussy?” She asked you, looking expectantly down at your face. “Hmm?” She tapped her thumb on your clit twice, making your hips twitch. You shook your head. “Since the moment I met you. I knew that I needed to have you, that I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you weren’t mine and Rhys’s,” Feyre explained, now rubbing small, even circles on your clit. “And luckily for me, well, Rhys has a pretty big breeding kink and once he saw you…” Feyre grinned down at you, eyes soft.

“I knew I had to have you as well,” Rhys finished for her, his head already dipping down to capture one of your nipples in his mouth. Your back arched as he teased it with his tongue, and between that and Feyre’s fingers you came quickly, breathy moans escaping your lips until Rhys’s mouth was over yours again. “Fuck, you are absolutely perfect,” he groaned.

Feyre fingers had moved away from you, and you were about to whine at the lack of stimulation before her mouth, warm and wet, began devouring you. She lapped up the slick that had leaked from you greedily before moving up to your clit. Feyre slowly licked at your sensitive bud, building up your pleasure once more as Rhys kissed you and played with your breasts, swallowing up the endless moan leaving you. When you were finally able to lift your head an look down at Feyre, you saw that she was grinding her thighs together as she ate you out with her eyes closed, and the sight of her so focused on your pleasure bringing you to the brink once more. You could hardly think when she climbed over you and kissed you, before moving up your body again and seating herself over your face.

Without a thought you flicked your tongue out, moaning at how wet she already was- for you.

Your arms came up to hold onto her thighs as licked at her center hungrily, sure that you had that same expression on your face that she had worn just moments before. You were happily sucking on your clit when you felt your legs being parted by-

Rhys was pushing in to you, the movement of his cock eased by how slick you were, and you moaned into Feyre’s cunt.

“Fuck, Y/N, don’t stop,” Feyre ordered breathlessly as she ground her hips down onto your face, forcing you to give she needs. She came on your face right as Rhys fully seated himself inside of you, all of the breath leaving your lungs as he did.

“Fey, she feels amazing. So tight and hot, I don’t know that I’ll ever leave the house again,” Rhys remarked as he began moving in and out of you slowly, letting your cunt adjust to his size as much as it could.

“Good thing we don’t have to for the next week,” Feyre said, still working her hips over your mouth, keeping your senses entirely filled by herself and her husband. Rhys started picking up the pace soon, letting one of his thumb graze over your clit every few seconds, your walls gripping him tighter in response. “Mm, fuck,” Feyre moaned, cumming on your face again, letting her hips twitch over you a few times before climbing off of you and sliding down so she could kiss your swollen lips. “We have plenty of time to train our new little pet.

“Train-?” You started to ask, but Feyre covered your mouth with hers once more, using her fingers to take over for Rhys’s thumb on your clit.

Moans were spilling out of you again whenever your mouth was unoccupied, which wasn’t often. Rhys has figured out just the angle to hit to make you see stars, barely even needing Feyre’s fingers to topple over the edge before Rhys followed you, slotting his hips tightly against yours as he emptied his cum into you.

After he pulled out he kissed you tenderly, fingers pushing as much of his cum back into you as possible as he did so. Your cunt fluttered around the tips of his fingers, so sensitive to every little touch now.

Feyre had disappeared, but came back into the room from the bathroom, a wet wash cloth in hand, and she carefully cleaned off your face.

“I guess we could have waited to do the skincare, hmm?” Feyre asked amusedly, taking in how wrecked you looked already.

“It was just a different kind of facial, darling,” Rhys said, humor in his voice. “Besides, her face is bound to get dirty again before the morning.”

“I suppose that’s true, her mouth is like magic Rhys, I’m sure with a little training she’ll be just as perfect at it as you are,” Feyre said, her thoughts already drifting to riding your face once more.

You were nearly asleep by the time Feyre was done cleaning your face, barely registering the feeling of something being wrapped around your throat and a gentle snick of something latching shut, but you were too tired to think about anything as Feyre and Rhys settled in around you, keeping you secure between their arms.

Lemme know if you guys want a part 2 🫣

[littlest-w01f]

Flames And Darkness

Pairing: Eris Vanserra x Original Female Character

ACOTAR MASTERLIST

In the world of boundaries and expectations, a spirit powered by the magic of Night found her way to blur the lines a map of her world had given. To learn everything the world had to offer.

In the dark, their eyes met, and a forbidden path lay before them. A path The Cauldron and The Mother themselves had woven for them to walk on together

Content Table:

Moodboard

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen (coming soon)

(all characters belong to SJM, the writer of the ACOTAR series, except for Rheana, my original character)

(any images/gifs used in the series do not belong to me until stated otherwise)

[throneofsapphics]

haunt me like the wind that blows 

Feysand x f!Reader 

(part two) (part three)

Summary: She yanked her hand from his grasp, taking a few steps backward. The fight was futile, there was no winning in this scenario, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try.

Word Count: ~1.8k

Warnings: dark feysand, abusive relationships, mentions of injuries, stalking, mention of suicidal ideation, yandere maybe?, not proofread, blood, death/murder

A/N: mind the warnings!

It had been one year, two months, and five days since she left. She counted every single one, because every single one was filled with memories of their love, their lies, and the fear they might find her. And what might happen when they do. If, she told herself, if they do. Something in her gut, maybe an instinct, told her it was inevitable they would find her someday. But she held onto the hope, the possibility that after a year they would give up. 

She ran as far as she reasonably could, to a small and barely known village in the mountains of Vallahan- one that welcomed her without question. She disguised her accent and her magic hid the presence of the mating bond. In the state she showed up in - shaking, pale, and underfed from weeks of rough travel, nobody questioned her. She used a vague backstory - escaping a bad relationship, being raised in a poor family, working as an herbalist. All of those facts are true, and she fed just enough information to escape suspicion. 

Still, she knew if any of them thought she was the mate of the High Lord and Lady of the Night Court, they’d turn her over to them without any question. People's goodness only ran so far. 

They told her they loved her, but kept her so tightly under key that she suffocated. Friends she’d had for years, suddenly felt the need to move away from Velaris. She managed to keep her own business for a few years.

First, they started telling her she didn’t need it, not with them there to provide for her. She told them she liked it, enjoyed working. That satisfied them for a while, until Feyre came in at the end of the day, finding a male flirting with her as she tried to deflect his attention. 

Rhys was there in seconds and she watched in horror as he died on the floor of the shop she built from the ground up. No matter how much she begged them, pleaded for them to stop, they wouldn’t and blood pooled across the floor, soaking into the wood. All traces of blood were removed, all evidence of the male's existence, but she knew it was there, and scented it each time she entered.

She shakily held on to it for a few months. They started mentioning things that happened during her day - things they weren’t present for, and she realized they either sorted through her mind or had somehow hidden themselves in her shop. They showed up from time to time and she never had any idea when they would. Anxiety filled her each day, and she started working on building her mental walls - in secret, hoping it would help her compartmentalize and shove some of that fear down. 

They commented how she looked worn down at the end of each day, how bags started forming under her eyes, how she grew more skittish. All things she knew, but hearing them stung. They convinced her working was too much, that it was her job affecting her health.

Eventually, they gave her an ultimatum. Quit and sell the shop, or we’ll make you. But, an ultimatum implied having a choice - that there would be two different endings, and in this case both scenarios ended the same way. The next day, fliers for sale went up and the shop sold quickly, being prime real estate in Velaris. 

She watched as the door was painted over - yellow instead of blue, and changed to a small clothing boutique. She wondered if the new owners felt that male presence. One who tried to flirt with the wrong female at the wrong place and time. Innocent flirting, flirting that meant nothing to her but cost him his life.

The first time she threw mental walls up around Rhys, finally recognizing the gentle caress of him slipping inside, he ripped them down brutally. She was left with a headache and hand shaped bruises littering her backside for a week. 

They mixed their love for her with lies. How they were protecting her, how they did it for her benefit, that all they wanted was for her to be happy. 

The happy memories haunted her the most, the ones of flights between mountains - both with Rhys and Feyre. Wind whipping through their hair, the smiles on their faces as they pointed out various things, the skyline of Velaris from above.

Now, each brush of the wind against her skin felt like a threat from them. Every audible beat of a bird’s wing made her shudder. It took a while for her to stop hiding when she heard them, or when the wind swept in a strange direction.  

She debated her decision every day. But, every time she took a walk through the mountains, interacted with someone new, created a different kind of tonic or poultice, she felt the freedom rush through her. The right decision, a decision she would make again if she had to. No matter how much her soul tore from being separated from her mates, she’d chosen herself. Maybe not happiness, but freedom. She'd never chosen them, the Cauldron put them together and she reminded herself often it doesn't mean they're a perfect match.

-

A knock sounded against the door and she cursed. The book was reaching its climax after five hundred pages of slowly building plot. It was late - almost sundown in the middle of summer, but she never knew if it was someone needing some kind of tonic or healing herbs and a sense of guilt motivated her to always answer the door. Another thump of fist on wood drew her from her thoughts, sending her rushing from the door, her page quickly marked with a random scrap of paper.

She undid the lock, swinging the door open. Her heart beat rose so quickly she thought she might pass out. After over a year, Rhys stood right outside her door, hands tucked into his pockets. He’d hidden his scent, and put the strongest damper on his power possible. Still, a dark storm raged in his eyes upon seeing her. 

Futily, she tried to slam the door, but a small wave of darkness shoved it back open. She didn’t try to scream, anyone she attracted would probably end up with their minds wiped - or dead. 

“Good girl.” He murmured when she stepped aside. She swallowed harshly as he entered, his eyes scanning the room. It was over. Her year of freedom was over. The High Lord of the Night Court found her, deep in the mountains of Vallahan, a village not even marked on maps. 

“You need to go.” Her voice was hoarse and shaking, betraying her fear. 

He let out a dark chuckle. “No,” his hand shot out quick as an asp, grasping her wrist to pull her close to him. His thumb traced over her bottom lip. “I won’t be going anywhere without you.” 

She yanked her hand from his grasp, taking a few steps backward. The fight was futile, there was no winning in this scenario, but that didn’t mean she wouldn’t try. “I want you to leave. Leave me alone.” 

His amusement faded. “You’ve always been a stubborn brat.” 

Her body shook with fear and rage. How dare he come in here, barge in on the life she created, and try to rip her away. “Go.” She pointed to the door. “I don’t want you, either of you." She knows Feyre is probably listening, watching in through his mind.  

The last sentence was a lie. Her body and soul wanted them, yearned to be with them, but she fought it at every step, and he knew it. “Liar,” he purred and she felt power begin to rumble from him. Anger was loosening his control. 

She tilted her chin up, clenching her fists at her side. “I don’t want you more than I want my freedom.” 

“Freedom?” He tilted his head. “Being with your mates is a privilege. So many don’t find theirs or don’t have one - let alone two.” 

A privilege. That was new. “I don’t care,” she spat, stepping around to open a path to the door, a path for him. She threw up every mental barrier she could, every bit of practice she’d put in every single day. If she left, it would be kicking and screaming and in her own mind. Sure enough, she felt him tapping against it - and saw the impressed expression that crossed his face, quickly overtaken by rage. Rage that she locked him out. 

He somehow mastered it, and strolled over towards the couch, picking up the book she left, twisting it over to read the description. Having him in here felt like a violation. But - his current distraction could help. She slowly backed towards the door, reaching her hand out to grab the door knob - only met with a shield that stung her fingertips. She hissed, sucking her fingers in her mouth to try and get rid of the burn. 

“I told you I won’t be leaving without you.” Rhys’s voice was mild. A mild she recognized - the same tone of his voice before he murdered that male for flirting with her, for touching her arm. A particular tone that haunted her nightmares. “I can give you five minutes to grab whatever you’d like, or we can go now.” 

Now, with nothing but the clothes on her back. Her own magic wasn’t strong enough to rip through his, and she already knew he’d cast a shield to keep her from winnowing away. Gods, she should have winnowed the moment he haunted her doorstep. 

“I thought you would stop looking,” she stalled, trying to buy herself time to figure something out. 

“You’re foolish.” Foolish. Like she was some child in need of scolding. He glanced at the clock hanging above her fireplace. “You have four minutes.” 

“Why do this? Why drag me back?” She questioned. 

“Because you’re ours. You’re part of us.” 

“I don’t want to be.” Y/n snapped, her temper finally flaring. 

Rhys’s eyes flashed. “Watch your tone.” 

“What good will that do me?” She laughed hysterically, “this all ends the same way.” 

“You could make it less painful for yourself.” 

There would be pain - there would be hell to pay, she knew that, and knew they had a plethora of ideas for how to make her pay for this. She could think of one way, only one way to escape. A permanent freedom from them, until they found her in the next life … her eyes glanced at the knife ten feet away, on her kitchen table. 

Her shields must’ve dropped for just a moment, because Rhys’s voice reverberated through her mind, "absolutely not". But, his voice tinged with fear. A sick sort of satisfaction came over her after she shoved him out, that she could put some kind of fear in him, no matter how sickening the circumstances or reasons. 

“Two minutes,” he hissed, “but I’m done waiting.” 

She didn’t move quick enough to escape his grasp. His grip was painful as he winnowed them, a series of jumps all the way back to the Night Court, back to her gilded cage, her shiny prison.