#feysand smut

[myfictionaldreams]

Light in the Darkness // Feyre/Rhysand x Fem!Reader

Summary: It wasn't just Rhys who had been caught in Amrantha's damnatation. For nearly 50 years, you'd suffered with him, in her bed. After years of enduring agony, it becomes almost impossible to resist seeking refuge in the platonic refuge of your High Lord and High Lady. However, after one night of drunken indulgence, you're left wondering if everything you've built to protect yourself is now shattered.

Requested by: ~ ☺ -- thank you so so much for all your support and the request! I absolutely loved writing more acotar/sjm!

Tags: 18+ readers only, smut, past rape/non-con elements, trauma, PTSD, nightmares, emotional hurt/comfort, fluff, angst, friends to lovers, friends with benefits, flirting, kissing, drinking, threesome (f/f/m), sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, anxiety, happy ending

Words: 9.4k (lol oops)

my masterlist 📚 AO3 Link

Some aspects of life can be predicted. Happiness, sadness, heartbreak, grief. Death. Every ounce of blessings that had graced your life had repercussions and hardships, something that was always centred around the balance of the world. With good comes the bad.

Years upon years had been filled with joy, laughter, and safety with your friends and family. Naturally, being drawn into the inner circle of the Night Court would bring its hardships, but it would be nothing that your friends or your family could get you out of. From outsiders, you were ranked low within the group, not even having a title to the job you provided; however, you often liked to refer to yourself as Rhysand's conscience.

Where Amren would help make significant decisions for the Night Court as the second in command, you'd be there to offer further guidance daily. Every meeting, every decision, every single day, you would be at Rhysand's side, making sure he didn't make brash decisions and, furthermore, protecting his sanity when, on some days, the weight of the world pressed down on him.

Not only did you save Rhys with your words, but as a high fae, you were blessed by the Cauldron with healing and body manipulation powers. The healing was self-explanatory as to why it could help; there were times you'd been able to bring a soul back, even from the point of death. However, such as life, with life comes pain. A power you used so infrequently due to the distress that you'd often forgotten that it was something you could do. Only on a handful of occasions have you needed to use it against an enemy they begged for death in seconds. It was a strain on your mental health to use this, and with Rhys having his own powers, along with his shadowsinger, there weren't many reasons for you to even be needed for this.

Rhysand would never expect or ask you to use this power, increasing your adoration for him tenfold. To say the two of you were close was a complete understatement. When you both live and breathe the same day-to-day life, the form of friendship is bound to shift into something more. Rhys made you feel safe; the scent of night and Jasmine that accompanied him always wrapped around you like a warm hug.

There was no one you trusted more than him, and when the two of you stumbled into bed years ago, it only helped you discover more of yourself, especially with your powers. Pleasure. You could bestow pleasure onto a person with a single thought. Have their knees wobbling, eyes glazing over and back arching as they orgasmed in a single second. It made your nights with the High Lord all the more entertaining.

Even with the closeness the two of you shared, there was still the label of friendship. You loved Rhysand, and he loved you, but the two of you were still keeping back, aware of the possibilities of mates, and until any bond arrived, the friendship would continue with the thrill of pleasure.

As your role to be by his side continued, this was the unfortunate or devastating mistake of how you were in attendance at the ball that Amarantha had created. All it took was a gathering of high lords and a drink of the magically spiked wine, and the world of Pyrthian would be forever changed. The magic within the High Lords was leashed, and no one was safe from the wrath of the Red-Haired Devil.

You could have driven yourself mad with hindsight, regretting not listening to your gut feeling of not trusting Amarantha. Only the knowledge of being able to keep the rest of your family and friends safe in Velaris was the only blessing, even if it meant a life of agony for 50 years.

Amarantha, in all of her cruel ways, personally picked the High Lord of the Night Court with her need for revenge for Rhys' father, killing her closest ally - Tamlin's father. Rhys had always had a formal villainous reputation amongst the other courts, but now, this is further shadowed by the different courts as Amarantha uses him. To hurt others, break them in a split second, and furthermore, keep him leashed to her bed. He was simply her whore and nothing more to the others throughout Pyrthian. This mighty High  Lord, probably the most powerful High Lord there had ever been, had been degraded and dehumanised to nothing.

Nevertheless, where Rhysand stayed, you were by his side.

Rhysand had protected Velaris, the rest of his friends and family that remained at home, keeping them locked away from Amarantha using his Daemati skills, but could not save them.

The first few weeks of the new reign of the Red Devil, you'd been chained in a cell with only darkness and the drip of the waters running down the walls to keep you company. You'd even convinced yourself she had forgotten about you, willing to let you rot away. However, you were forced to kneel before her, and Rhys stood by her side.

There was never a second where you'd blame Rhys for what happened. In fact, over the 50 years, he had saved you in more ways than you could ever repay him for.

You were forced by Amarantha to admit why Rhys kept you so close by. The healing, the pain, the pleasure. Everything spilt from your lips with a single snap of her fingers. Rhysand was her whore, and you were downgraded to being her Harlot, except there was no exchange between sex and money, only sex and not being killed.

Rhy was forced to control minds and occasionally cause pain before death. You were just there to deal unimaginable pain until death, and then both crawl into Amaranthas bed and pleasure her until she promptly sleeps, wakes and starts the process again.

As the years trailed by, the only sight that would keep you going was the flickerings of stars that would light in the depths of Rhysand's eyes when the two of you were briefly alone for mere seconds.

Amarantha kept a tight leash on the two of you. When in her bedroom, you and Rhys were never allowed to touch, and most frequently, you were forced to kneel next to the bed and watch or tie to the bed with the Red Devil straddling your waist with Rhys pleasuring her from behind. You would watch and watch, and then her fingers would snap, and you were forced to make her orgasm, over and over, even with Rhys having spent hours pleasuring her.

These moments were where Rhys would provide support. Even though your eyes had to remain on Amarantha, Rhys would slip through your mental shiels and make you feel numb whilst remaining mentally close so that you didn't feel alone. Often, you would wake without any recollection of the previous night's antics, all thanks to your High Lord, and you wished and begged to the Cauldron that one day you could repay him for keeping you from slipping into the depressive pit that you would never be able to return from.

Then, at the risk of his life, Rhys admitted to having dreams. 47 years, the two of you had been trapped, and he'd been lost to the Red Devil, but hope came to him with glimpses of a woman's life. Hope. It had to be hope, and even though you could only see foggy images that Rhys would share of this person, the two of you would hope that this was a sign of someone who was bringing salvation.

Nearly 50 years had passed, and Rhysand finally admitted to meeting her whilst visiting the Spring Court, falling for the callings coming his way to draw him closer to her. Nothing came as easy as an overnight saviour, but at least you had a name. Feyre. Sweet Feyre. A human girl who had nearly stolen Tamlin's heart arrived under the mountain to declare her love for him and stand up to the Red Devil.

So young and yet defiant. Despite the pain, the torture and helplessness, she never back down. Something in your heart called to her. Maybe it wasn't right to put so much pressure on her to save Pyrthian, but even if it meant you had to take your last breath, you would try anything within your power to save this woman.

Superficial wounds you couldn't heal, but the pain you were quick to vanish as she was kept in her cell between the trials. Moreover, you were more than aware that Rhys was doing just as much to keep her from losing her sanity by having her close to his side, forgetting the world as she drank faerie wine.

The fateful day came, and so many events spiralled into utter chaos. After the final trial, Feyre figures out the riddle but still dies in Amaranthas's hand. Tamlin finally finds courage and slaughters the Red Devil and the High Lords, gathering to bring Feyre back to life as High Fae.

Freedom was unforgettable, and leaving the depths of Under the Mountain was something you'd only dreamed of, but there was now the weight of Rhys' mating bond snapping into place that had the next chapter in your lives beginning.

There was no time to be happy for your High Lord as the King of Hybern began his war whilst simultaneously trying to prove to Feyre that she was safe within the Night Court and away from Tamlin and that you were thanking Rhys and Mor for stealing her from the dreadful place.

Years continue to fly by. Wars, fights, numerous deaths, including Rhys for a moment and finally, FINALLY, the Night court could be at rest and for once indeed be happy with their High Lord and Lady protecting the lands with the inner circle close by.

Having been in turmoil for so long, adjusting to returning home, being surrounded by friends, and trying to remember what it was like to be genuinely safe was more difficult than anticipated.

It was almost like having to try and learn how to live again. What hobbies would truly distract you? What job could you do from day to day as it wasn't necessarily for you to be on Rhysands' side now with Feyre there to aid in the decision-making? There was also the destruction of having survivor guilt and horrific nightmares that had you afraid of the sun slipping behind the mountains every day and night, replacing the light. No amount of talking, counselling or breathing exercises could remind you that Amarantha was truly dead and that everything was fine.

This was how you began to depend on your High Lord and Lady.  Both of whom were closer to you than it seemed to be anyone else. Most days would be spent around either of them, whether to help with court business or simply sitting next to them as they continued their lives.

You had realised long ago that you were mostly in love with Rhys and Feyre and depended on them more than others. They never made you feel guilty for this. Neither seemed to mind and often would seek you out if you were starting to feel guilty and keep them safe; they needed comfort and support just as much as you did.

The damage and trauma from Under the Mountain also fleeted from just your mind. You couldn't train with any of the others; even the slightest touch against your skin would trigger red nightmares. You were unsure if it was the saviour complex you'd built around Feyre or Rhys, but you'd only allow them through your hard outer shell.

"Come back to me. Come back to Velaris. You're safe; I'm here; take a deep breath with me" Feyre's soothing voice drifted through your tense consciousness as she blew out a long breath so you could hear the steadiness of her slow breaths. The sweetness of her scent, lilac and pear, then licked through the wind across the skin of your cheek as she knelt in front of you, grasping your hand firmly and helping to ground you.

Your eyelids fluttered first, testing the movements as your mind and body began to return from the horrors within. The rich blueness of Feyre's concerned eyes is what you forced on first, then the rise and fall of her chest as you attempted to copy the movements. It was the first draw of breath that you realised just how long you'd been holding your breath as your lungs burned and your head spun.

The air of Velaris tasted sweet, or maybe it was the lingering taste of Feyre in the air as the ache in the centre of your chest eased and you became more present. The trembling throughout your body continued, no matter how many times Fey's thumb brushed against the back of your hand.

"You're always safe here, with me. It's just us together. Look outside; the sun is still shining, and there's no darkness here". Feyre continued to gently soothe you with her elegant voice.

You'd always found it so ironic that a place called the Night Court, the power to bring forth shadows and darkness from its High Lady and Lord, was actually the brightest and most beautiful home. Free. Unlike how it was Under the Mountain.

Tension struck your spine as your thoughts drifted back to the nightmarish place. Feyre's grip on your hand loosened as she shifted closer to cup both hands around your face, forcing your eyes on her again.

"Don't go back there, stay with me. Talk to me, I want to hear your pretty voice, Honey". It was both the use of her nickname for you and the warmth of her fingers on your face that brought you back from the dizzying nightmares.

Opening your mouth to follow your instructions, you were unsure what to say at first, worried that all that would dribble out would be frightened whimpers, but then a little fleck of something at the corner of Feyre's eyelid caught your eye as your fingers hovered above the area.

"You have a freckle right here that I've never noticed before", you say in a whisper before clearing your voice and smiling at your High Lady.

Feyre matches your grin, showing her teeth whilst doing so and tilting her face so that you're not cupping her face just as she was yours. "Do I? I've never noticed before. Guess I'll have to add it to my portraits".

Your index finger stroked over the freckle as your thoughts spoke before you could probably think as you admitted, "It's beautiful". Usually, only her mate caused the pinkness to blush across her cheeks as she tried to duck and hide her face, the golden hair half drawn into a ponytail now curtaining her away.

Instinctively, you brushed the offending pieces behind her pointed ears, giving you a clearer view of the beauty of Feyre Archeron-Moonbeam. As her sky-stained eyes flicked back up to yours, she coyly softened her smile. And you're a big old flirt; she uses her daemati skills as her lips remain still so that only you can hear.

Only for you, my High Lady, you respond similarly. However, the flirtatious talk was then interrupted by a third, more silky, deep voice joined as the scent of Jasmine and the crispness of night wrapped around you in a warm hug.

I object. I, too, think you're a big old flirt to me, too. It could be my handsome good looks and effortless charm. The intense eye contact with Feyre snapped as you both turned toward the doorway where Rhys now casually leaned against the doorframe, his hands in the pockets of his black trousers and not a single hair out of place. The hypnotic violet eyes wandered over Feyre's form first before doing the same with you before the tension eased in his shoulders.

Scoffing as you and Feyre stood, releasing each other's faces and turning towards him entirely, you spoke the following words aloud. "Excuse me, Almighty High Lord. I think you'll find that you're older than me and a much bigger flirt".

Feyre laughs as she naturally falls into his side, their arms wrapping around each other's waists and his lips dipping to kiss her tenderly across the forehead before focusing his attention on you with a wicked grin.

"I don't know what you're talking about, Love. I only flirt with my darling Feyre". His mate gently slaps a hand against his chest. As you all know, that was one of the biggest lies to slip from his lips. Rhys simply grabs her tattoo-covered hand and kisses the knuckles before venturing further into the room, only stopping when toe-to-toe with you.

Your neck ached as you stared up at him, admiring the twinkle of stars in his eyes as he asked, Do you want to talk about it?

You knew he was referring to your momentary lapse in consciousness moments ago. Losing the courage to maintain eye contact, you look across Velaris, noticing how the sun reflected and sparkled against the water flowing in the Sidra.

Suddenly having no energy, your shoulder shrugs nonchalantly, even though you knew the man before you could read you better than any other. "Not really".

Warm, calloused fingers grip your chin, turning your face back towards Rhys as you find that Feyre is now by your side, her fingers interlocking with yours, both touching you, the only two to have done so since being Under the Mountain, even if they were innocent touches.

"You can always come to us, day or night. You know that, right? Just call out for us, and we will come", Rhys reassures carefully, his eyebrows drawn together with concern.

Glancing between the mated pair, you try to ignore the burning behind your eyes from the threatening tears as you squeeze the hand holding yours and smile up at Rhys. "What would I ever do without my favourite High Lady and Lord".

Rhys grins down at you, keeping his hold on your chin as he leans down to kiss your cheek, remaining there for a second longer than socially acceptable as you suck in a quick breath as Feyre copies the kiss on the opposite cheek. The two of them move away at the same time as you struggle to control your pounding heart and ignore the desperate throb that warmed your core from being between them both.

It was always like this with the three of you. The longing touches by both of them. The ones that would fuel the dreams would leave you feeling regret for thinking of your friends in such a way, even if it distracted you from your dark thoughts. 

To everyone else, it seemed that you were all close. Still, when the three of you were alone, something constantly shifted, and as much as you tried to remember they were mates and nothing further would ever happen, the lasting effects of the increased pulse and arousal remained. Even though you would never act on these feelings, they made you feel alive and safe.

You noticed it then, the shadows that creep into their eyes as their nostrils flare, smelling your dampening arousal. Like always, you take a step back and try to regain control over your actions, masking your emotions with humour.

"You two are naughty. Do you often kiss your friends like that".

Feyre's giggle only adds to your body's reaction as she links her arm through yours and shrugs her shoulder, "I don't know what you're referring to. We were just being supportive", her tone was laced with sarcasm.

Rolling your eyes, your arm taps the arm holding yours, "Of course you were". Leaning into her side, the two of you glance up at Rhysand, who is silently watching the interactions. Eventually, his eyes flicked to Feyres, who tilted her head with a knowing smile. Looking between the two, you sigh dramatically, "I hate when you both talk like that. It's like you're showing off that you can speak mind to mind. Some would call it rude to talk like that without including your company".

Rhys finally smirks as you notice the sweet and seedy tang that now invaded your scents, mixing with the smell of your arousal quickly; you take a step back from them, assuming they're both flirting mind to mind as you can now smell how horny they both were.

"Alright, well, now I know what you're both thinking. I'm going to take that as my opportunity to leave, " you explain whilst walking towards the exit like you usually did when the mated pair became obsessed with the other in similar situations. However, a shadow wraps around your wrist and halts your movements, so you must turn back and watch as Rhys' arm secures Feyre's shoulder.

"How do you know what we are thinking about?" Rhys asks casually.

Once more, you roll your eyes in exasperation, "because I can smell it, and you are both anything but subtle".

"Hmm", he contemplates for a second. "And what exactly do you think we're dreaming about?"

Your tongue suddenly lay heavy in your mouth as you look confused between them both, noting that Feyre's cheeks are once more flushed with embarrassment, or was it arousal?

"Is this a fun game for you both? I'm not sure I'm interested in guessing what you two do behind closed doors". A lie, but they don't need to know this as those thoughts had been fueling your quiet nights between your sheets.

The High Lord and Lady's eyes both lower to watch as your thighs squeeze together to ease the worsening ache there, not realising how noticeable your movements had been as you cough to recapture their attention back to your face.

"Maybe I should have phrased my question differently", Rhys begins to say as he licks his lips. "Who exactly do you think we are dreaming about?"

Your frown deepens with the confusion that only seems to worsen with each word Rhys says. Feyre takes control of the conversation as she steps forward and out of Rhys' hold until she is in front of you, looking like the beautiful High Lady that she is. Her shoulders rolled back, her head held high, and the confidence only added to the pulsing and fire between your legs.

Carefully, you watch every single flicker of emotion and movement from Feyre. From the way her lips part to take in a deep breath, the subtle hardening of her nipples beneath the thin blue shirt she wore, to the way her pupils expand to match the sweet scent in the air. "I, for one, was not and am not thinking of Rhysand", she speaks in a lower undertone than usual, not flinching from your unending stare.

It was your turn to open your mouth, licking the dryness while attempting to think of some kind of response, but it seemed that your mind was void of all conventional thoughts. So much so that the arrival of Morrigan as she winnowed into the room had the three of you flinching and jumping to face the new arrival.

The tall blonde's nose wrinkled as she glanced between her cousin and his mate, "By the Cauldron, will you two leave the poor girl alone with your nasty thoughts? It smells like a Pleasure house in here", Mor claims as she flicks her luscious hair over her shoulder.

You take a step back, thankful that Mor only thought the thick smell was from Feyre and Rhys and not you as well.

"Morrigan, a pleasure as always, dear cousin", Rhys drawls as he casually picks off some invisible lint from his shoulder. This sight has you smiling, knowing he was covering his discomfort with the movement.

Mor flicked her gaze over Rhys before dressing each of you with enthusiasm, clasping her hands together, "So tonight I've convinced the others to come to Ritas, and I need you three to also join to have the complete team there".

"I'll be there, " you say quickly, deciding you need something more substantial to drink after this conversation.

"Us too", Feyre answered as she glanced over her shoulder towards you with a not-so-subtle wink.

Hours later, after the sun had set and your anxiety had risen for a moment, you were now encompassed in the inhibitions of the alcohol humming through your veins. Ritas was as busy as always, and being surrounded by friends, good music and even better drinks, you were very much in your element of happiness.

Despite your friends being gathered around the table you always resided at or in the centre of the dancefloor, you were happy in your little corner of heaven in Ritas, where you could sway on the spot without worrying about feeling strangers' bodies knocking into yours.

The conversation continued to play over in your mind as you felt the coolness of the sweat dripping down the middle of your spine. As much as you love Mor, you could have cursed her to prison for interrupting before discovering who Feyre and Rhys were referring to because even though your heart screamed that it was about you, your mind tried to convince you otherwise. There was no way that your mated friends were turned on by you.

You're drawn away from your thoughts as a slender arm slides around your neck, and the sweet smell of Feyre wraps around you, replacing the salty sweat from the room. Her grin matches yours as she tips her head back, swaying her hips in time with yours as your fingers clasp to the thin material of her peach dress around her waist, pulling her closer.

From the way she laughed, you knew she was just as drunk as you but nevertheless still as beautiful as ever, even with the way her golden hair stuck to her face with the sweat and the glassy sheen over her eyes. You were happy to see her letting go and fully relaxing; she deserved it more than most.

You weren't sure which of you tightened your hold of the other, but now your faces are pressed together, her lips hovering next to your ear so that you could hear her say, "We didn't finish the conversation earlier".

Your feet somehow become tangled with hers as you both lose your footing, but a steady hand from behind keeps you both upright as Rhys' chest presses against your back. One of his hands remains on your waist, his thumb brushing in a circle, and the other reaches around your side to grip Feyre, pulling her even closer against your chest until your breasts are squished against hers.

"Wh-What conversation?" you pretend to forget, the rest of Ritas drowning away in the background.

"Don't play coy with us; I can smell your arousal already", Rhys growls into your other ear. You forget to breathe momentarily, so Rhys's tone calms, "Easy, breathe for us, it's ok. This will always remain a safe space". You appreciated his comfort, but for a moment, all you could think about was the way his lips caressed the shell of your ear.

I think you're beautiful, Honey. Feyre speaks dreamily mind to mind as she pulls away to look deep into your mind mesmerisingly. Her delicate fingers stroke down your cheek as her eyes flick between yours and the lips you're biting. I want you. She states this with such confidence and not an ounce of alcohol slurring her words that your knees wobble.

"I want you too", you finally whisper to her, unsure if the alcohol was giving you courage or making silly decisions on your behalf.

"And you know that Rhys wants you too; nothing about that has changed", Feyre continues as you glance over your shoulder to look up at Rhys as he kisses the side of your head. You nod, understanding that she was referring to your past with him.

"I think we should find somewhere more private, don't you?" Feyre continues as you agree with her.

One second, you're in Ritas, and the next, you're in the comforting bedroom in the townhouse of Feyre and Rhys. The instant calmness of the loud music faded, and the delicate touch of the wind as it floated through the open archway to the balcony. Sighing at the coolness as it kissed against the exposed skin of your arms, you let it distract you from the chaos erupting in your heart and mind.

Rhys moved away first, and before you turned to see what he was doing, Feyre stepped back and grabbed your hand. The two of you laughed wholeheartedly while stumbling over to their gigantic bed.

You both collapse into the centre, laughing at nothing as the springs cause you both to bounce before settling and wrapping your arms around each other.

Rhys leans against the bedpost at the base of the bed, smiling down at the two of you, especially as Feyre lifts her feet and wiggles them in his direction. "Come on, High Lord. Look busy", she giggles as Rhys smirks, moving to sit on the edge of the bed and dragging her feet into his lap. Carefully, he unbuckled the straps of her heels, dropped the shoes onto the floor and carefully kissed the top of her knee as the dress she wore now pooled midthigh no that she was lying down, and then his sights were set on you.

With long strides, he's around the other side of the bed, now closest to you, and begins to remove your shoes as well, but then your feet remain over his thighs, and the reality of the situation finally dawns on you. Like he had with Feyre, his eyes never leave yours as you forget to breathe altogether, and he kisses your knee delicately.

Feyre raised to lean on her fist so that she could look down at you as your gaze turned from one to the other.

"You'll tell us if it's too much, I mean", she asks, appearing more sober as you, too, notice the liquid courage seems to have disappeared from your system as you nod in agreement at her. She smiles as Rhys' fingers caress from your ankle up to your calf. "I've never kissed a female before", she admits as the hand she isn't leaning on reaches across to run her fingers down the side of your face.

"I think you'd enjoy it", you say, sounding breathless, becoming lost in the desire that darkens her usually bright eyes. You're encouraged to continue as her fingers continue to explore your face and linger on your lips. "Kissing a man is nice and dominant, rough. But with females, they're soft, sweet, gentle but demanding if needed."

Feyre bites her lower lip as she glances at Rhys for a split second before turning her attention back down to you. "I want to kiss you", admits eternally.

"I don't think your mate would appreciate me touching what's he", you say, trying to remain as level-headed as possible, knowing that the mind between mates should not be interfered with.

Feyre's eyes gleam with mischief as she looks down at her mate, who has remained silent so far. "My mate wants to kiss you too", she confirms.

"More than you could know", Rhys then speaks, his tone taunt and deep, like he is trying to hold back, but it is all the confirmation you need.

Reaching up to your High lady, you cup her jaw and pull her close, meeting her halfway as your lips connect. The two of you forget to breathe momentarily, simply remaining in place and allowing each of your emotions to escalate before your movements finally catch up to your pounding heart.

Your lips press more firmly, moving against hers until they relax and open, giving you the perfect position to tease your tongue between her lips. You both moan, especially now that you can taste her, feel her loosening and falling more into the kiss, finding the courage to push your head back onto the bed and become more demanding.

Your fingers slip through her hair as you greedily try to taste the other. She was sweet, oh so fucking sweet you could have drowned in her and thanked the Cauldron for giving you the opportunity. Her full lips are cushioned against yours until you're both starving of oxygen and needing to pull back to breathe.

A second, this lasted before her face wasn't above yours anymore, and your High Lord was leaning over your body, his hand now cupping the entire side of your face as he kissed you with greed. The sensation of nostalgia hit, the taste that you'd grown fond of over the years of intimacy before Feyre crashed through your senses. Yet, there was something new and exciting with this kiss, even as you continued to stroke through his mate's hair and hold her to your side as Rhysand bruised your lips, his tongue entering your mouth for a brief second as you moaned.

Then he's pulling back, and you're welcomed to the beautiful sight of Feyre and Rhys desperately kissing. You'd seen them kiss more times than you could count, but being this close, having each of them still clutching onto your body in some way.

Feyre was the first to ease away, tilting her head slightly so that Rhysands lips could move to the slop of her neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses until reaching the strap of her dress on her shoulder and easing it down. Coping his movement, you, too, moved the strap off of her other shoulder and the material pooled below her ribs, exposing her breasts to you. There wasn't a second wasted before you moved to lick one of her perked nipples as Rhys nibbled on the other.

The soft moan from Feyre lit a fire in your belly as you continued to taste the sweetness of her skin, but then your head was moved back as Feyre demanded your mouth with hers once more.

With your back pressed against the bed, Feyre attempts to move over you but then halts herself, "I don't know what I'm doing" Feyre giggles.

Grinning up at her innocence, you admire the way that her eyes are half-lidded and swollen lips are pulled between her teeth as Rhys continues to caress her nipples and breasts with his mouth and hands.

Tucking a stray curl of golden hair behind her ear, you explain, "Touch me like you'd touch yourself. Do you touch yourself?" you ask, clarifying. The apples of her cheeks had already risen from the alcohol and kissing, but now they deepened in the shade as she said yes. Rhys growls against her chest at the thought of her touching herself and then begins to remove her dress further down her body until she's naked. You see, seeing that she'd gone without underwear and reached to touch her now slightly sensitive nipples.

Once more, you admire how she hitches a breath at the touch. She still seems hesitant as her fingers draw your dress's edge against your collarbones. Rhys, also sensing her nerves, lies on the other side of you, resting his head on his fist as he wraps his large hand around Feyre's small one.

"Here, let ms show you, Darling", he explains lowly, and you notice that he's now topless, the muscles flexing with his movements and bat wings flared out behind him, hovering in the air.

You and Feyre watch as Rhys moves her hand over your chest, cupping your breast over your dress and squeezing firmly. You can't help but rub your thighs together as the low pleasure builds in your already aroused body, the air thick with seedy scents from all three of you.

Rhys then catches your eye, winking cheekily with a handsome smirk. Within a blink of an eye, all clothes that remained on his or your body disappeared, and now Feyre's hand was pressed directly against your skin.

Your back arches slightly into the touch, pushing your breast into her hand, and then it's your turn to gasp as Rhys moves her fingers to pinch your nipple fiery, tugging it away from your body and then pressing a thumb against the aching area.

It was a sight you adored watching as Feyre tentatively began to learn how to touch your body. There was so much you wanted to do to both of them, and as much as you wanted to give Feyre a chance to move lower, you didn't like the attention just on you. It was challenging to decide whether to touch him or her, but as it was Feyre's first time with a girl, you wanted to see if she enjoyed your face between her legs.

"Feyre, can I be on top of you?" you ask her with a surprisingly pitched voice.

She grins as her eyes glow ever brighter as she rolls onto her back, "You don't have to ask".

Returning her smile, you slip around Rhys and straddle Feyre's waist, leaning down to kiss her hungrily for a few seconds before moving backwards, lower down her body. "I want to taste you". Your words pressed against her skin as your mouth journeyed south, kissing the peaks of her breasts down her sternum and toned stomach. Her breaths were coming out in quick huffs as she squirmed on the bed, legs spreading as your body fit between them, your face pressing against the softness of her thighs.

Feyre's arousal was evidenced by the wetness that now caressed your cheek as you nuzzled yourself closer, resting your weight on your chest and arse perked in the air as you felt the High Lord move behind you. Blowing cool air over Feyre's beautiful cunt, you loved how responsive she already was as she shivered and gripped tightly to the sheet beneath her, looking down her body at you.

Whilst holding her eye contact, you finally lowered your mouth to her, tongue sweeping over her labia and tasting her salty but uniquely beautiful juices. The High Lady's gasp was like music to your ears, especially as you pressed more firmly, dipping beneath and stroking over her clit and feeling it throb against your tongue. "You taste so fucking good".

Rhys, who was licking his lips at the sight, began to hover over both of you, kissing down your spine, causing goosebumps to rush to the surface of your skin. He, too, began to use his tongue to pleasure as he knelt behind you, flicking his tongue into your cunt and pushing in. You groan, and in turn, Feyre does, too.

"I've missed this", Rhys admits from behind as he circles your hole with his fingers, carefully easing a single digit within. This was the first time you'd been penetrated by anything in over 50 years. Amarantha had often tortured you with your arousal, making sure you were never given anything to ease the ache, but then after her demise, even when you touched yourself, you were so sensitive it would only take clitoris to play for you to orgasm.

Your back arches, pressing your breasts further into the bed and arse harder into Rhys' face as he rocks his finger in and out before adding another and beginning to curl his fingers until your whimpering into his mate's cunt. Warmth flushed over your face as you realised just how quickly you were close to orgasm, so you moved with more enthusiasm as you sucked on her clit and then pressed your tongue firmly against it. Then, for the first time in 50 years, you used your powers because you wanted to, not because you were being forced to.

Rhys and Feyre both moan loudly enough that the bed trembles. You'd caused the sensation for him that his cock was now being wrapped tightly down someone's throat and Feyre to fill full internally, with someone caressing the sensitive nerves within her cunt, both nipples being sucked on by an invisible force.

"What was that?" she cries out as she closes her eyes, her hips now rotating on their own accord as she chases her high. You could have made her orgasm with your powers but didn't want to overwhelm her immediately, so you settled in softly as you continue to circle her clit.

Not stopping to answer her question, you match the sensations you're going through and then as Rhys' thumb pressed against your clit and the hurricane of an orgasm pulsed through your cunt and abdomen, you made sure that both mates also came at the same time.

Rhys grunted, one hand coming to rest on your hip and squeezing the flesh as he humped against the bed, staining the sheets with his seed, and Feyre coated your mouth with her arousal, her thighs almost crushing you in the process, but you would have died happy right there.

While still trying to catch her breath, Feyre suddenly announces loudly, "Sit on my face". You and Rhys' face snap up to look at her, laughing at the crudeness of her words that aren't usually that forward. She appears sheepish for once, asking, "What? Did I say it wrong?"

"Not at all", you begin whilst crawling up her body until you're face to face. "Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

With Rhys' steady hands on your hips, you moved to kneel on either side of your High Lady's face, looking down your body at her excited expression. Still reluctant, it takes Feyre's tattoed fingers to wrap around your thighs and pull your body down before her mouth is on your intimate area. You weren't sure who moaned louder, you or Feyre, as she started by licking and tasting between your folds before building more enthusiasm and dipping the tip of her tongue into your pussy.

"You're doing so good", you praise whilst holding one hand on the headboard of the bed and the other slipping into Feyre's hair. Glancing over your shoulder, you admire Rhys, who was on his knees watching the two of you, his hand wrapped around his surprisingly already hard cock. He looked almost godly in this position, the tattoos of the mountains on his knees gleaming at you for more than one reason, his wings spread wide behind him. "Look busy, High Lord; I think our beautiful High Lady's cunt is looking lonely down there".

"It would be my honour, Love", Rhys agrees, moving closer and easing his mates legs over his thighs as he lowers the tip of his cock over her clit, teasing her for a second before entering her. You could feel the rush of air against your pussy as she gasps, rotating her hips as she rocks against Rhys.

You match the movements, rolling your hips against her face as her nose knocks against your bundle of nerves and her tongue moves ever deeper. Everything felt so good; your body was alive with emotions and buzzing nerves. You could have died happy right there, especially as your face is then tilted back and Rhys' mouth is on yours, kissing whilst fucking his mate.

Even with his tongue down your throat, you wish you could praise Feyre; she makes you feel so good, even though it is her first time doing this. And Rhys, he always knew how to leave you breathless and begging for more.

You weren't even prepared as your orgasm rocked you very well. Rhys had to half hold you up as your body trembled, cunt squeezing and pulling around Feyre's tongue until the sensations lessons at you collapsed next to the pair, trying to catch your breath.

Then you watched, with awe and amazement, as Rhys fucked Feyre, their fingers all over each other, grasping and holding as both of them eased closer to their peak. But even then, when both were breathless and arching their backs, you were still being grabbed and included with kisses and touches until all three were motionless in the middle of the bed.

To say you were exhausted was an understatement, having not had two orgasms in quick successions in so long, and the thrill of emotions was enough to have you falling asleep almost immediately. Not before you're checked in by both of them, Rhys wraps an arm around your waist, and Feyre's head rests against your chest.

"Are you ok? I mean - was that alright for you?" she whispers, sounding just as exhausted as you.

"It was perfect", you respond before closing your eyes and falling asleep.

Waking up was not the blissful peace you'd hoped it would be. The thrill of the alcohol had completely gone from your body, and all that remained was a heavy sickness of guilt in your stomach. Last night was beyond perfect. Everything you could have wanted and more, but reality was your worst enemy.

Feyre and Rhys were mates, not only this but your High Lord and Lady. A fun night of relieving tensions for them meant so much more for you; emotions that had attempted to lay dormant were now screaming in your mind that you'd made one of the worst mistakes yet. They wouldn't want you. They couldn't have you anyway. No matter how deep the feelings ran, there was no such thing as a mates pair having a third join.

When the pair would wake, you knew it would be full of awkwardness and 'let's never do this again'. So, with great difficulty, you began to untangle yourself from the duo, careful not to wake either of them as you climbed out of bed.

It wouldn't happen again, and the sooner you realised this and came to terms with it, the easier the pain in your heart could ease. Grabbing your dress that was folded on a nearby chair, you slipped it on and, with your shoes in hand, left without glancing back at the sleeping couple.

You had a room in their house, much like the rest of the inner circle, but there was no way you could remain in the same room as them for a day, at least so, after changing into more comfortable clothes and hiding under a coat, you left to go to your own home.

It was on the other side of Velaris, and on the walk there, with the sun slowly beginning to rise and wake up the other occupants of your home town, you had time to overthink every single touch and moan from last night. Eventually, you arrived at your abandoned apartment, having hardly slept here since your nightmares were so crippling that you needed to stay near Rhys and Feyre at all times.

You attempted to distract yourself by scrubbing your skin raw, trying to remove the scents of both of them away, but when that didn't work, you moved to deep cleaning your home, which now had a thick layer of dust and cobwebs across the surfaces. This was until you could collapse with exhaustion into your cold bed.

The nightmares were there, so violently, in fact, that you were startled awake because you couldn't breathe. Your mouth opened to scream for Rhys to save you but stopped, biting on your tongue until blood coated your mouth. Scrubbing a heavy hand down your face as you caught your breath and eased the ache in your chest, you glanced out of the window, seeing the sun high in the sky, meaning it hadn't been that long since you'd fallen asleep.

Your stomach gave a hungry growl as you sighed, collapsing back onto your pillow, staring aimlessly towards your ceiling.

I was going to give you one more hour of rest before coming to find you, but it seems you've beaten me to it. Rhys' voice echoed in your mind in a deep drawl that had a fluttering of pain seep into your chest as you remembered last night. Deciding to do something you've never done before, you tried to ignore him, turning over and pulling your bed sheet over your head and shutting down your mental shields, but he simply pushed them aside with his talons.

Why are you there and not at home?

Without thinking, you snapped back sassily, This is my home.

He didn't comment on your tone as he continued to ask. Why did you leave?

I needed to shower. You answered simply, knowing it was a useless excuse.

We could have showered together. Rhys purred back, and even his tone was your core warming. Unsure of what to reply with, you decide remaining silent was your best option, so he filled the silence with more questions. I don't want to intrude on your personal space but don't block us out. Last night was-.

I know.  You cut off his sentence, not wanting to hear his rejections. It's fine. I'll just speak to you later, Rhysand.

Rhysand? When do you ever call me that? He sounded more urgent with his questions, so you try even harder with your mental shields until a thick wall separates the two of you, and his words are finally silenced. Your emotions finally snap as you sob until you can't breathe.

You remained in this position for the rest of the day. Your hunger is now dormant with the sickness in your chest. The tears would dry and then start again as you feel the ghost of their lips against your skin with the memories that continued to spiral through your mind over and over again. Eventually, the sunset, and you were left with the shadows from the fae lights to keep you company.

Deciding the bedroom only made you feel worse; you move into the living room, sit on the couch, and stare at the wall.

At one point, you could feel the stroke of gentle fingers against your mental shields, but you kept them in place, deciding it was best to ignore Feyre as well. However, a firm knock came on your door late into the night. You wanted nothing more than to ignore it, to leave whoever was there to think you were asleep, but as the knock came again, you decided to just get it over and done with, already knowing who was there.

Opening the door, you're greeted by Feyre and Rhys, holding a plate of your favourite food and both smiling gently towards you, their eyes searching over your body to check you're well but noticing how red and bloodshot the whites of your eyes were.

"A peace offering":  Feyre offers the place towards you, but you don't take it; you step out of the way and allow them to enter your home. Moving further into the room, you returned to the corner of the couch, avoiding their eye contact as you tucked your knees beneath you and hugged a pillow to your chest.

Feyre places the plate on the small table before you and sits to your right, while Rhys sits opposite in the armchair.

"I've never actually been here before. It's cute." Feyre continues trying to cheer you up somehow, but you ignore her.

"I'm sorry", you finally painfully say, wanting to get it over and done with.

"Sorry?" Rhys asks in confusion, leaning forward until he rests his elbows on his knees. "For what?"

You couldn't help but flinch, turning your shoulders in to appear smaller. "For last night. For overstepping in your relationship. I shouldn't have let my emotions dictate my actions. I've- I've just been so lonely, and I trust you both more than anyone, but you're mates, and I know what's happened is unforgivable and-".

A delicate hand covers your mouth, stopping your flow of words as Feyre leans forward with fire lighting her eyes, eyebrows set furrowed. "Would you stop trying to say how me and Rhys feel, please? Because I think you'll find you're incredibly wrong with every single thing that you say". Her hand begins to lower, and you open your mouth to battle what she has said, so she quickly keeps her hand over your mouth. "Nope! No talking, just listen. We don't regret anything about last night".

Without using your mouth, you roll your eyes, but that only earns you a squeeze against your cheeks. Rhys then begins to talk, "She's not lying. There isn't an ounce of regret in my body" his eyes remain steady as he stares at you.

"Yes, Rhys and I are mates, and the thought of someone touching what's mine fills me with murderous rage, but when I watched the two of you touch and kiss, I felt anything but negativity. You've not just been anyone to me; you're special to both of us. More than you could ever know."

"You saved my life under the mountain. Without you, I wouldn't have survived her", Rhys admitted, referring to the one person you hated more than the King of Hybern. At seeing your relaxed state, Feyre finally loses her hand from your face as you stare at the deep, raw emotions on Rhys' face, the sharpness as his jaw tensed.

"You saved me too", Feyre continues as you look towards her now. "In those dark dungeons when you would visit to keep me company or healy my body and mind, there's no way I would have survived it all".

She takes your hand, squeezing your fingers as she talks. "You haven't just been a friend to us. Even now that I and Rhy are mates, I feel this longing to be near you. I often thought maybe we are meant to have more than one mate because the way I feel for you isn't just lust".

Your breath was out heavily, not realising you'd been holding your breath as they both spoke, a lightness filling your heart and mind. "I thought you both would come to regret what we did. That my emotions were just one way because you saved me more times than I could ever begin to list. You're my closest friends; save me from the dark each night, but after what we did, I thought I'd overstepped the boundary, and you wouldn't want to see me again".

"Well then, you don't know me then, do you? Because I don't back down from what I want, and I meant what I said when I said I wanted you," Feyre responds passionately as your gaze flicks from her eyes to her lips before Rhys inches forward until kneeling beside you both, his hand resting over yours and Feyres joined hands.

"This may be difficult to understand. Yes, we are mates, but you have always meant something close to me, and I've known for a long time that Feyre feels similarly. I want you, Love, like I want Feyre. The thought of not being able to have you or someone else's hands on you makes me want to strike everyone down" he pauses to take a deep, steadying breath as he rolls his neck to ease the tension and anger that burst from him as his jealous emotions overtake him. "If you don't want to be with us, we'd understand and return to how we have always been. But we can't lose you, even as a friend".

You scoff, unable to hold back your reaction, as you sit up with a burst of energy, looking between them. "Of course, I want you both! I thought it was obvious. There's no way I'm letting either of you go" Your fingers tighten in their hold as you finally smile. Rhys and Feyre sigh in relief. "I don't understand how this is going to work, though, between the three of us. How do we even explain this to the others?"

Rhys shrugs his shoulders, "It's not for them to get. This will be understood with time, but let's concentrate on each other, being together and learning this new dynamic. It's not anything to rush, just that we each understand that we have each other".

Life came with its highs and lows. Even at its lowest, the smudging of hope could draw you out and lead you on a whole new path. All those years ago, never would you have thought you could be with two of the most remarkable people of all of Pyrthian, but by the Cauldron, you were going to hold onto them so tight and never let them go.

[throneofsmut]

Bleeding Love

Poly!Feysand x Reader || WC: 2k || Warnings: Injury & Smut

Summary: Reader comes back from a mission with Azriel and got hurt and Feyre and Rhys find them and take care of them. Based off this req.

****

Azriel and you stumble as you winnow the both of you onto the street in front of the House of Wind. His chest rising and falling as he pants. Yours doing the same.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to fly you up?” He asks breathily.

Shaking your head, moving to lean against the bottom of the building. So exhausted that you were fighting not to slump down against it.

Opening your eyes when you hear leathers that weren’t yours rustling—he was leaning against the House of Wind now too. “Yeah,” you answer. “I can make it. Can you?”

He glances at you, bloody and bruised too. “My shadows can.” His shadows not his wings meaning he was too exhausted to fly.

“All right.”

“Sure you don’t want to come with me to see Madja?”

“Nah, it looks worse than it actually is,” you breathe, pressing your hand against your side. You’d healed your broken ribs, but were too drained to actually close the wound itself.

Azriel had a hand pressed against his own side and then let out a pained wheeze, “All right.”

A moment passed before both of you rose to your full heights—slightly swaying—and nodded to each other.

Then Az’s shadows swallowed him up and you winnowed.

It wasn’t possible to winnow into the House of Wind, but you could winnow onto it. . . sort of.

You winnowed ten feet above one of the balconies—the one that leads to your old room—and dropped, landing ungracefully onto it.

You’d meant to land on your feet. But, as soon as your feet touched the ground, your body gave out and you fell to your knees and then collapsed onto your side.

Pained groans slipping through your lips as you lay there on the ground, clutching your side, feeling something warm coating your fingers.

Looking down to find your hand covered in blood and beneath you on the floor of the balcony it was pooling swiftly. “Fuck,” you sigh under your breath. Followed by a wet wheezy cough that made you clutch your side tighter.

Your eyes closing as you continue to lay there trying to get the motivation to move. The steady drip of your blood and your heavy breaths echoing into your ears. Along with the voices of the people of Velaris on the streets below.

It could’ve been minutes or hours when you finally grit your teeth and roll over on your knees, a hiss escaping from you as you stand. Stumbling to the french doors of the balcony leading into your room.

Staggering in before leaning on the nearest wall to catch your breath and take in your surroundings. “Cauldron boil me,” you grumble when you see that you're actually in the dining room.

Blowing out a sharp breath, you push off the wall and make your way to your old room—the one before you started sharing one with Feyre and Rhys—stumbling and cursing the whole way. The walls being your only support.

You hope they’re not home right now. The townhouse is being renovated and they just started building the family home so Feyre, Rhys and you were currently staying in the House of Wind.

When you got close to your door, the house opened the door for you, letting you in, “Thank you,” you said to the house. And then the house lit, the fireplace and the door to your bathroom opened too. “Thank you, Windy,” you repeat again, this time using the nickname you gave to the sentient House of Wind.

Stumbling all the way in until you made it to the en-suite bathroom and held yourself up with one hand on the counter, the other still clutching your side. “Mother save me,” you sighed with your eyes closed.

Then you heard the soft clatter of a chair landing on the floor behind you and without opening your eyes you sat down. “Oh, how I love you, Windy,” you murmur affectionately.

Finally you open your eyes and take in your appearance in the mirror above the sink, “Gods, I look terrible.” Your left brow is cut and so is your bottom lip. Bruises are beginning to bloom on the right side of your jaw and your left eye. You’ll have a black eye for sure in a couple hours, even if you apply a healing balm.

And your knuckles are all cut up and bruised. Your legs are probably bruised up too and not to mention that your ribs are tender even though they’re not broken anymore. But, you do still have a large cut on them. “Fuck, I’m definitely gonna need stitches,” you say as you assess your side.

You clutch a hand to your wound again and with the other start to rifle through the cabinets in front of you under the sink.

Cursing under your breath when you can’t find the antiseptic you usually keep stored there. “Windy, have you seen—“ the House cuts you off by placing a bottle of rubbing alcohol on the counter in front of you. “Thank you, Windy.”

Dropping your hand from your side, you grit your teeth and inhale sharply. When you exhale you pull off the top of your fighting leathers in one quick motion. Your undershirt with it, leaving you in only your bra.

Before you lose your courage you unscrew the top of the rubbing alcohol and pour it directly over your side. A soundless scream ripping from your throat at the feeling. You don’t waste another second before threading the needle in your first aid kit and begin stitching yourself up.

Tying off the final stitch when you hear two sets of footfalls approaching.

The door to your bedroom swings open moments later, the door to your bathroom following soon after, two pairs of wide eyes pinned on you. One violet and one blue-gray.

Feyre and Rhys.

You give them a lazy grin, “Hello, my loves,” you say to both of them. And without missing a beat you pick up the bottle of alcohol again and pour it over your freshly sown stitches. Turning your face away from them, “Fucking hell,” you grit out through clenched teeth.

Feyre comes to stand by your side and brushes your hair away from your face, “You’re hurt.”

“I’m all right,” you reassure her, closing your eyes and leaning into her touch.

“You’re bleeding,” Rhys says from your other side. His voice deathly soft. His power filling the room.

You cut a glance to him, giving him a soft smile, “Relax, love.” Your voice is a gentle—soothing—command.

“How the fuck am I supposed to relax when. . . when your bleeding?”

“Because they’ll never hurt me or anyone else ever again.”

He visibly relaxes and places a kiss atop your head. But, then Feyre asks, “Are you sure?” Her voice sounds strained as if she’s holding back. And even though she hasn’t stopped brushing your hair back with her hand, her other, is curled into a fist.

“Yes, darling. Az and I made sure before we left,” you swear.

“Good.”

Without another word you get up and make your way to the shower and peel off your fighting leather. Slowly. Teasingly.

Feyre and Rhys remain by the sink as you continue to strip, then turn on the water, and finally wash yourself clean. Their eyes flick between yours and your body as the water and soap cover every inch of you.

Violet and blue-gray eyes that were once darkened by violence were now darkened by something else entirely.

Finally rinsing off the last of the soap, you dry yourself off and drop your towel on the floor, before making your way to your bed.

Half way into the room you stop, looking at Feyre and Rhys over your shoulder and that’s all they need before they follow.

You lay in the middle of the massive bed, holding yourself up with your elbows as the High Lady and High Lord of the Night Court make quick work of ridding themselves of their clothes. They all but ripped them clean off their bodies.

Rhys was already at attention when he started pumping himself in his large hand a couple times.

And Feyre’s tits were already tipped in hardened peaks. Her arousal made her cunt glisten in the firelight.

A bead of precum seeped from the head of Rhys’s cock and your tongue swiped out wanting to taste it, but before you could Rhys’s thumb swiped over it. Making you lick your lips instead.

His violet eyes gleamed as he continued to stroke himself, his thumb swiping over the head again, “Do you really think you deserve a taste, sweetheart?” He coos mockingly,

You opened your mouth to answer him, but Feyre beat you to it. The obscene noise of her playing with herself filled the room. One hand played with her tit while the other rubbed her swollen clit.

All of you letting out moans as you rubbed your thighs frustratingly together and they continued playing with themselves.

Feyre’s the first to speak, pinching and rolling her nipple between her fingers. She glances at Rhys, “I think our girl needs to rest. Then her gaze settles back on you. “Don’t you baby?”

Fine, if they want to play. You’ll play.

You scoot farther back on the bed so you’re leaning against the plush pillows. Then slowly spread your legs apart, thighs bent, baring yourself to them. Earning lewd groans from them.

Smirking at them in response, but you don’t stop there.

Sticking two fingers in your mouth, your tongue swirling around them, and then moments later lowering your hand. Running those same two fingers through your folds, now glistening with your arousal as you draw tight circles over your clit.

Throwing your head back in pleasure as a soft moan escapes your mouth and fills the air. Then you bring your freehand up to pinch your nipples and play with your tits. Eyes screwing shut as you get closer to falling over the edge.

“Oh, fuuuck,” you choke out in between gasping breaths. The fire pooling in your lower belly begins to spread to the rest of your body. You know you won’t last much longer, but then you're suddenly getting flipped over.

The only warning you get is Rhys’s wicked smirk before he splits you open, burying himself in your cunt in one quick thrust.

Feyre’s hands cup your face as she swallows your scream, kissing you hungrily, her hips settling over Rhys’s face.

His hands settle over your hips in a bruising grip as he sets a brutal—punishing pace. Another scream works its way up your throat, at the feel of the head of his cock hitting your sweat spot at this angle.

What, sweetheart? He purrs into your mind, mockingly innocent. Did you really think you could cum without us, hmm?

Fuck you. Even your mental voice sounds like a moan.

He chuckles darkly, You already are, sweetheart.

Feyre swallows your scream again before it can ever pierce the air, before pulling back. Her fingers dig into the soft skin of her thighs as they shake. No doubt from the assault of Rhys’s tongue on her sensitive clit.

Her teeth bite into her plush bottom lip as she writhes over his face. Then her head falls back and you know she’s going to scream. So before she can, you wrap a hand around her throat, pulling her towards you.

Swallowing her scream as you claim her lips in a bruising kiss.

Your fingers tighten around her throat as you lean forward just the slightest bit and with your freehand pinch and tug her at her nipples. Earning whimpers from her.

Then you drop your hand that’s on her tits and settle it on her ass. Slapping it a couple times—just like you know she likes it—and finally grabbing a handful of it.

Gods, she cries out mind to mind. Fuck, baby!

Rhys whimpers in your mind and then you feel it. His cock twitching inside you.

Your walls spasming and contracting in response, making him grip your hips tighter as he continues to fuck you both over the edge, while working Feyre over the edge with his tongue.

Not even a full minute later, with one last powerful thrust he spills himself inside you. His cock pulsing as your walls flutter around it. Milking him as you fall over the edge with him.

Rhys groans against Feyre’s clit as he comes and it’s the final push Feyre needs to fall over the edge with Rhys and you.

[potatoplace]

Guilty As Sin?

Feysand, technically Feylin too

kinktober day 6 | mind sex, cheating

kinktober '24 masterlist | feysand masterlist

Story Summary: Feyre is laying in bed after a disappointing night with Tamlin, and decides to take matters into her own hands. It's too bad for her that the hand she chooses has a captive audience. And that her mind can't seem to stay away from a certain High Lord

Warnings: kinda like dub con cause Rhys gently convinces Feyre to do the mental tango together. Also smut. And cheating. I think that's it.

Words: ~1.7k

Author's Note: here's day 6 of kinktober! I'm imagining this taking place like a week after Feyre returns from her first visit to the Night Court. And the ending... awe. I like this one. I hope you guys like it too!

18+ only pls

🩵💜🩵💜🩵

Feyre was laying in bed next to Tamlin, still yearning for his touch. But he was asleep, because he had finished. While Feyre was left staring at the ceiling, wishing for him to wake up and continue where Feyre was still dangling.

She turned her head to the side, only to be met with the back of his head. A sigh left her lips.

Feyre supposed that if her soon to be husband wouldn’t do it, then she could, and snuck her left hand down between her thighs. She was wet, between her arousal and Tamlin’s seed, making it easy for her to coat her fingers and start slowly swirling two over her clit.

The first brush of her fingers was wonderful, and she had to bite her lip to keep from moaning and waking Tamlin.

She didn’t want him to feel… Lesser for not getting her to finish with him.

So her lip stayed tucked between her teeth as she moved her fingers faster, clenching around nothing. Feyre worked her fingers as well as she could but nothing was quite enough to push her over the edge. Her mind flashed to what had aroused her recently. Tamlin’s gleaming muscles when she had been watching him and Lucien spar bare chested a few days ago. The way she had looked in the lingerie picked out for her in the Night Court. The scent of sea and-

No. Not that. Never that.

Feyre shifted her thoughts back to when she had been watching Tamlin and Lucien, how much she had wanted to run over and pounce on him in broad daylight, regardless of who was watching.

How much he would have enjoyed that, had no one else been around to see them.

She was nearly there when a memory of violet eyes, so close to hers as he pinned her against a wall and scented her, how his eyes had narrowed at her scent changing after being held there by him.

No.

She couldn’t think of him. Not now. Not ever.

She drew her mind instead to the last time her and Tamlin had coupled outdoors, before… everything. He had taken her against a tree, rough back biting into her back through the fabric of her dress, and Feyre was so, so close, when a velvety voice cut through her thoughts.

Good evening, Feyre darling. Can’t sleep? His voice was low, almost sleepy as he spoke mind to mind with her.

Fuck off Rhysand, Feyre hissed at him, pulling her hand away from her core.

And why would I do that when I was just about to see the climax of the show?

Feyre’s cheeks flushed hotter than they ever had in this new body of hers. I don’t know what you’re talking about.

Oh? Rhysand asked. I think that left hand of yours knows exactly what I’m talking about, darling.

Feyre’s body heated at being caught, at not having thought about that damned bargain tattoo, how that stupid eye in her palm reported everything back to the High Lord of Night. I don’t think it does.

So you weren’t just rubbing your aching clit and trying to finish yourself off after that beast couldn’t do it for you? Feyre gasped at his words, at the heat that his voice pushed through her veins. And you weren’t desperately trying to not think of me, is that it, Feyre?

Go fuck yourself, Feyre hissed, and attempted to shut him out of her mind.

Why would I do that when I’d much rather fuck you, darling?

Feyre clenched around nothing at his words, the promises his voice held, and her left hand twitched, almost flashing down to return to its place between her thighs.

You can lie to yourself all you want, but I can feel your desire, Feyre. Just give in, hmm? It’s not real, anyways, Rhysand whispered into her mind, though it felt like he was speaking directly into her ear, and she shivered at the sensation. Let me make you cum, darling.

All of Feyre’s rational thinking went out the door when he stated it like that, and her overwhelming need took over instead.

She melted into his mental hold, sinking into his mind as he helped guide her in, and it took the shape of a darkened bedroom, with Feyre already laying naked atop black silk sheets with Rhysand standing at the foot of the bed, clad in a fine black suit and with his signature silver stitching gleaming, even in his mind.

“Such a good girl, Feyre. Are you going to keep being good?” Rhysand asked in a low, lust filled tone. Feyre nodded her head. He clicked his tongue, shaking his head at her. “Use your words, Feyre. Just this once, and then all you have to do is scream my name.” The way he was smirking down at her nearly had her revoking her acceptance, but then his citrus and sea scent washed over her, reminding her of the inferno raging within her.

“Yes,” Feyre breathed, and Rhysand was on her in an instant, his mouth covering hers in a bruising kiss as a hand snaked down between her legs, fingers dipping in an inch before moving up to circle her clit. Feyre moaned into his mouth at the first brush of his fingers, back already arching up into his solid chest.

She was so sensitive already from how many times she’d nearly toppled over the brink. And being in Rhysand’s mind likely didn’t help with that.

Or maybe it was helping.

Within three minutes he had worked her back up, and just before she came he pulled his mouth off of hers, letting her loud moans echo throughout their minds as she lost herself to the waves of pleasure washing over her as his fingers kept moving, drawing it out for her.

Feyre thought she could be floating when she felt Rhysand shift down the bed, moving to settle his shoulders between her thighs. His wicked grin was her only earning before his mouth was in her, devouring the slick that was leaking from her.

And it felt so, incredibly real.

The warmth and wetness of his tongue lapping at her clit was heaven, and she resisted the urge to put her hands in his thick hair, fisting them in the sheets instead.

His violet eyes tracked the movements, then flicked up to meet her gaze. They narrowed slightly before Rhys lightly scraped his teeth against her sensitive bud, her hands instinctively flying to his hair. Rhysand’s lifted off her for only a moment to flash a feline grin at her, and then his mouth was around her clit again, two fingers pushing into her.

“F-fuck,” Feyre moaned, her cunt clenching around his thick digits. He pushed them in and out slowly, letting Feyre get used to the stretch before adding a third.

At which point Feyre felt like she was going to combust.

Between his fingers and his stupid, skilled tongue she was surfing on waves of pleasure, not quite an orgasm but close enough to have Feyre’s legs shaking around his broad shoulders.

A brush of Rhysand’s fingers against the sweet spot inside of her had a whine ripping from her lips without warning, and Rhysand pulled his mouth away from her, Feyre’s hands still fisted around his locks. He grinned up at her and curled his fingers against the sensitive flesh again, his mouth widening when Feyre whined again, even louder this time.

“Is that the spot, darling?” He asked, already knowing the answer as he rocked his fingers against it, eyes lighting up when Feyre’s hands pulled him back down.

“No more talk- ing,” Feyre groaned, stuttering when Rhysand’s lips wrapped around her clit with a renewed vigor, his fingers curling against that spot over, and over, and over, driving Feyre to the brink in the blink of an eye.

He sucked, hard, on her clit, and her back arched into him, hips raising against his face before collapsing. “Rhysand!” Feyre screamed as she came, holding his face to her core as her continued lapping at her clit, drowning her in wave after wave of pleasure.

When he finally pulled away from her core, he moved up the bed to capture her mouth in a heated kiss.

“Mine,” he growled against her lips once they parted, their foreheads resting together.

Feyre didn’t have the energy to fight the statement, her legs still shaking slightly as tiny aftershocks continued to pulse through her.

Instead, she allowed him to pull her naked, mental body against his, her head on his chest, listening to a steady heartbeat. She had nearly drifted off when she felt the bed shift.

The real bed.

Her bed. With Tamlin.

Guilt flooded Feyre’s senses as she came back to her body, the overwhelming scent of her desire flooding the room.

What did I just do?!

Tamlin shifted again, and was laying on his back now.

Feyre felt disgusted with herself.

Darling? Still can’t sleep? Rhysand’s voice echoed through her head.

Feyre hesitated before answering. No matter what, she had already betrayed Tamlin. And if she didn’t ask Rhysand for help… She wouldn’t get any sleep. And she’d had enough of those nights to last multiple lifetimes, at this point.

No, she whispered into the void between their minds.

Come here.

So she let him pull her back into his mind, and this time she was in a violet nightgown, and Rhysand in a pair of black sweatpants and shirtless. They were laying on the bed next to each other, underneath the sheets.

“Come here, darling,” Rhysand said, pulling her into his side, her head on his chest once more. She took a greedy lungful of his scent, her eyes closing as it washed over her. “That’s it, snuggle up. You just needed some physical touch to sleep, hmm?”

Feyre nodded her head and yawned. Maybe that really was all she needed. She wrapped an arm over his chest and swung a leg over his, getting as comfortable as she could.

And that was very, very comfortable.

So comfortable, in fact, that Feyre drifted off within five minutes, all worries of betrayal and her guilt left in her physical body.

It was the best night’s sleep she had had since being brought back.

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff

[velarisnightsky444]

Caught In Between*

Kinktober Day 18: Threesome with Feysand

AN: This will be a sneak peak for Cherry Blossom changed to second person pov.

CW: Intercourse, ffm threesome

Word Count: 222

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

You moaned as Feyre cupped your breast in her hand. You were slowly grinding on Rhysand's cock, riding him just how he liked.

"You feel so fucking good, y/n," Rhys grunted, his fingers digging into your hips.

You had set a pace with him that felt amazing for both of you.

Desire burned inside of you as Feyre lowered her mouth to your breast, her tongue flicking at your hard nipple.

"Fey," you moaned as she shoved her hand between your legs, rubbing your clit with her nimble fingers.

You whimpered, resting your head on her shoulder as you kept grinding your hips against Rhysand's.

"Doing so good for us, flower," Feyre cooed to you, stroking your hair.

"Thank you, Fey," you slurred, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"Oh, such good manners," she praised, kisses peppering your face. "Perfect for us."

The words combined with her fingers on your clit and Rhysand's cock inside of you made you reach your high.

Time seemed to slow as you came on the cock that was pulsing inside of you, Feyre's praise cooing in your ear the whole time.

He grunted, spilling inside of you as he watched you fall apart on top of him.

"Thank you," you said breathlessly, closing your eyes as you laid your head back on Feyre's shoulder.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Feysand Taglist:

General Taglist:

comment to be added to the taglists!

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

[danikamariewrites]

i saw that you said that you would write for feysand 👀

could i possibly request a smutty angst fic with feysand x reader, maybe both rhysand and feyre are trying to get reader’s attention bc reader has been lately ?

p.s. i just have to say that I absolutely love your writing style, your writing always makes my day just a little bit better 🩷

Attention Please (SMUT)

Feysand x reader

A/n: thank you anon, that just made my day better. I hope you love this ❤️

Warnings: smut, threesome

Stirring your cereal while sitting at the kitchen island you scowled at the bowl. You had snuck out of bed early that morning to avoid Feyre and Rhys. You felt like they had been brushing you off lately. Making you feel a little left out of the relationship.

You also felt like their attention had been elsewhere. They had been so busy for a few weeks it was like they had no time for you. Getting their attention was like trying to complete the Blood Rite.

It had bothered you before, but you hadn’t talked about it for the last few weeks like last time. And you promised them you would say something if you were upset.

You heard Feyre’s footsteps approaching. “Good morning love. I missed you when I woke up and you were gone.” She stops behind you, wrapping her arms around your shoulders. Letting out a huff you go stiff under her touch. Feyre pulls back slightly, her face set in confusion. “Y/n, what’s wrong?” You push out of your chair, and stomp out of the kitchen. You pass Rhys in the door way. “Morning love, how-“ you bump him with your shoulder and keep walking.

If you had looked back, you would’ve seen Feyre’s hurt expression answering Rhys’ confused posture. They didn’t know what was wrong. Rhys had picked up on you being a little distant lately. And now his suspicions had been confirmed.

You sat in the library all day, engrossed in a book Gwyn had given to you. It was a sweet romance and it made you miss Feyre and Rhys. You had felt them taking turns tapping on your mental shields throughout the day. Rhys almost broke through. You could faintly hear him asking what was wrong, but you pushed him back before he could fully get in your mind.

Your stomach growled. Your hand rests over it, realizing it was late and you hadn't eaten since breakfast. You head down to the kitchen and find Rhys and Feyre sitting at the table, deep in conversation. Rhys spots you in the doorway first. He sits up straight and Feyre follows.

“Hi love.” He says cautiously. You hold yourself, looking down to avoid making eye contact. “Hi.” You walk over to the table taking your usual spot across from Feyre. They both look at you, hopeful you’ll talk about what’s bothering you.

Still avoiding their gaze you decide it’s time to come clean. Keeping in your feelings is hurting you and them. And that doesn’t do anyone any good. “I have been upset for a while. And I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.” Feyre leans forward as Rhys asks, “What’s been bothering you love? Please tell us we want to fix it.”

Finally looking at them you say, “I feel like you’ve been brushing me off the last few weeks. It’s felt like I don’t exist to you at times. All I want is your attention and I feel like it’s been a struggle to fight for it.”

You were swallowing back tears at this point because you really didn’t want to admit this next part. But the three of you had made a promise to be honest about your feelings at the start of the relationship. “And…and I’m feeling extra neglected because neither of you have touched me for me two weeks.”

Tears started falling at your admission. Rhys and Feyre quickly scramble to your side of the table to hold you and wipe your tears away. Rhys picks you up and takes you up to the bedroom. Feyre opens the door and Rhys sets you on the bed. Feyre slides in behind you, pulling your back to her chest as you sniffle. She’s hugging you swaying you gently.

Rhys plops down in front of you, a frown on his lips as he wipes away your tears some more. “Y/n, we are so sorry. We didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. We could tell you a million things, like we’ve been busy or something but there’s no excuse.” Feyre kisses your temple, “please forgive us love?” She asks softly.

You look between the two of them and their apologetic expressions. “Thank you,” you sniffle out. “What can we do to make it up to princess, hmm?” Rhys asks cupping your jaw, running his thumb up and down lightly. “Can we go away for the weekend? Just spend some quality time together, please?” They give you a loving look, embracing you so your squished between them. You let out a small giggle. “We absolutely can.”

For the rest of the week they made sure to pay extra attention to you. Taking their breaks with you, they took you out for a special dinner, and made sure that you slept in the middle of the bed so they could both hold you at night.

At the end of the week you were finally alone in the cabin with them. Warm and cozy and best of all, no work for either of them.

You were currently laying on the couch with Feyre, your head resting on her breasts. Her fingers lazily tracing up and down your neck and shoulder. You let out a content hum, pressing closer to her. “When Rhys comes back we have a surprise for you.” Feyre said in a teasing tone. As your head perks up Rhys walks through the front door.

He sends you two a feline smirk and drops the fire wood by the door. He takes his time strutting over to the couch. Feyre flips you so your back is flush to her chest. Your both wearing one of Rhys’ shirts and yours was currently being pushed up by Feyre. Her hand had wandered from your neck down to your thigh.

Now tracing circles higher and higher up your thigh to the seem of your panties. A soft moan escapes your lips. Rhys takes Feyre’s hand, bringing it to rub against your clothed cunt. You arch your back, whimpering.

Rhys stops, removing Feyre’s hand completely. You stare up at him and his feline grin turns feral. “Darling, did you tell her we have a surprise for her?” Feyre hums in response, sitting up so you’re still in her lap.

Rhys strips his shirt off and drops to his knees in front of you. The mixed scent of yours and Feyre’s arousal has him groaning. He slowly pulls your panties down, tossing them to the side.

Feyre opens your legs with hers and Rhys grips your thighs with his strong, calloused hands. He kisses up to your sex nipping at your clit causing your hips to buck. He looks up at you through his lashes. “You’ve been such a good girl for us, so patient.” His voice deep and gruff.

“We thought we would reward you. Do you want that baby?” “Yes, please,” you whimper. “Good girl.” Rhys dips his head, connecting his lips to your soaking cunt. You drop your head on Feyre's shoulder moaning at the feeling of Rhys’ tongue exploring you.

He spreads your arousal up to your clit, leaving kitten licks as he moves back down to your entrance. You mewled. Rhys was trying to taste every part of you as you push your hips further into his face. It was like you were his last meal.

This is all you wanted. No distractions and the loves of your life all over you. Only they can pleasure you like this. Only they can pull these moans from your mouth.

Lost in your thoughts, the feeling of Feyre circling your clit brings you back to the present. Your hands fly down to her thighs in a bruising grip and another breathy moan leaves your lips. “Fuck - that feels good. So good. Please, please,” you didn't even know what you were pleading for. You just wanted them to keep making you feel good.

“You’re so perfect princess. Always ready to take both of us.” She moans in your ear as she bites at the shell of it. Feyre speeds up the pace of her fingers. You feel your orgasm approaching, your walls clenching around Rhys’ tongue. You hear him in your mind, “I can feel your close love. Let go, we got you.”

With a few more strokes of Rhys’ tongue and brushes of Feyre’s fingers, you feel the familiar tingling sensation building between your legs. Their names mixed with your moans. You feel a familiar tingling sensation between your legs.

Arching off of Feyre, you come on Rhys’ mouth. Feyre coos at you, rubbing your sides as Rhys places long, slow stripes up your folds.

As the shocks of your climax wear off Rhys runs his hands along your thighs. He pulls his face away, his chin and lips glistening with your release. His feline grin is back, “We're just getting started, love. Do you think you can take more?”

“Uh-huh,” you mumble, your eyes half-closed from the pleasure. Feyre smirks at Rhys slowly handing you over to him.

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane

[the-darkestminds]

Rhysand Is The Most Handsome High Lord… Part II

READ ON AO3

Summary: Feyre abuses her shapeshifting powers. Rhysand abuses his daemati powers. They both cross lines they have no business crossing. Our dear High Lord and High Lady are playing it fast and loose with the concept of personal boundaries and consent. But we love these two freaks all the same.

Tag list: @queercontrarian @jules-writes-stories @brunetterebel010 @zenkindoflove @crazy-ache @bonecarversbestie @little-fierling @olenvasynyt @acourtofladydeath @starsreminisce @secret-third-thing @fourteentrout @yennas-stuff @neciebee

[velarisbynight]

Call Me By My Name

Rhysand x Feyre

For day 4 of @acotar-omegaverse-week — Getting Knotty: …you really didn’t think we’d have omegaverse week without a whole day for knots, did you :)

a/n: I was wary about writing for these two but I actually enjoyed their dynamic lot! Will definitely try to write more for them!

warnings: sexuality; smut; knots; overstimulation; oral (Feyre receiving) 

word count: 1.9k~

~~~~~~~~

“You’re insatiable,” Feyre huffs as her mate noses up the length of her throat, broad palms that have been long-since flecked with discoloured skin from scars and rubbed rough from callouses sliding from her waist, to her hips, to her legs. Fingers trail up the tops of her thighs, a shiver of pleasure zipping up Feyre’s spine when his thumbs hook around the narrow, black lace at her hips. 

“And you’re incredibly provocative,” Rhysand whispers, hot lips graze the shell of her ear, sharp canines nipping at the point before trailing down to lazily tug on the lobe. “You’re incredibly provokable,” Feyre counters, biting on her lower lip, tilting her hips so the curve of her ass is rubbing against the seam of his trousers. 

A hot, strained chuckle rumbles through her back and it doesn’t take much to imagine the wicked smirk on the High Lord’s mouth. How his pupils might be expanding, swallowing that beautiful ring of starlit violet. “I’m incredibly provokable?” The pads of his fingers graze across her abdomen, ticklishly raising a prickle of goosebumps in their wake. His mouth lowers to her jaw, pushing small, soft kisses to a spot he knows makes her weak. “I so much as look at you differently and you’re hauling me away into a spare room.” 

“Mhmm. Like I did just now, High Lord?” 

Rhysand’s groan morphs into a chuckle, silky blue-black hair brushing Feyre’s collar bones as he lays his brow to her shoulder, a smile on his mouth, “That, was an exception.” 

“I’m pretty sure you were the one doing the hauling there, or was that all my imagination?” 

“Was I supposed to leave you be after you lifted your top?” Rhysand drawls, his hand dipping further between her thighs, not yet slipping beneath her underwear but cupping her clothed sex, fingers poised to prod and push. “What sort of alpha would that make me if I left my darling omega unattended?” 

“Uh-huh, that’s the reason why you hauled me in here.” 

The High Lord pulls away, standing to his full height and turning his mate by her hips so they’re chest to chest. “Should I stop?” He whispers, a glint in his dark eyes. 

“Could you stop?” Feyre counters breathily, fingers raising to tip the black, lacy strap over the curve of her shoulder. The first one falls, and the second follows after. Violet eyes track each movement, his tongue wetting his lips, “I could do anything if you asked it of me.” 

“So charming, High Lord.” 

“So wicked, High Lady.” 

Feyre tilts her head upward, light brown hair tickling further down her spine and Rhys lowers his mouth to meet her, lips pressing together. A mixture of a moan and a hum warms the High Lord’s mouth as Feyre’s hands greedily rise over his chest, her fingertips teasingly tracing up the notch lapels of his finery before tangling in his raven locks of hair. Broad palms return to her hips and Feyre moves with him as he walks her back to their bed, the backs of her thighs brushing the rouge and gold jacquard patterned sheets. 

Rhysand is the first to pull away, his hold tightening around Feyre’s waist as he keeps his mouth within kissing distance. “I’m hungry, High Lady.” 

“You’re always hungry, High Lord.” 

“Call me by my name,” he whispers, breath tickling her mouth as shivers of tingling pleasure skitter through her abdomen. “Only if you call me by mine.” 

A low, strained chuckle drags from the back of his throat and the next thing Feyre knows is she’s being hoisted from the floor and carefully set back in the bed, the rouge and gold rayon fabric teasingly scraping against exposed skin. Her hair scatters across the sheets, framing her perfect features as cool, watercolour-blue eyes gaze up at her High Lord. Her alpha. Her mate. 

“Come here, Rhys.” The male in question doesn’t attempt to hide the effect her husky voice has on him, nor does he show even the slightest amount of embarrassment as his tongue flicks out over his lips and he palms himself through his trousers. “Shall I be on top of you, tonight?” He questions in a silky drawl, removing the clothing from his upper body seamlessly, a few swift movements and skilfully tailored fabric is discarded, “Or would you prefer to take the lead?” 

“And make your mate do all the work?” Feyre questions as she parts her thighs, legs curving at the knee to make room for him as he prowls forward. A wicked smirk appears on his soft mouth, “You love it.” 

“Then I’ll leave the choice up to you, since apparently I was the one who got you in to this state. Does that sound fair?” 

“You’ll let me decide what I do to you, Feyre?” 

Heat flutters between her legs, arousal infusing into the air, dampening the black lace covering her sex. “I’ll let you decide what you do to me,” she breathes, curving one leg around his hip, glancing with interest down to his mouth, “Rhys.” The High Lord releases a sound between a groan and a laugh, then he’s allowing the rough pads of his fingers to settle over her diaphragm, slowly, tenderly, coasting their way up her sternum, gliding between her breasts until they’re pausing over a fluttering pulse. 

“I’ll take my time then, shall I?” 

~~~~

Feyre’s spine arches from the mattress as the orgasm barrels through her sensitive body, those deft, cruelly skilled fingers continuing to curl and rub against that spot while his tongue flickers over her clit. 

His name has been repeating in her mouth for what must have been hours—there’s no way he could make her feel this good in anything less than that, even knowing how talented that silver-tipped tongue of his is. The flimsy black lace that had been covering her breasts has long-since been pushed away, though she’s still clasped within its confines. Just like with her underwear. Rhys had simply pushed it to the side, keeping her under that self-imposed containment she wishes he would simply tear right off. She wouldn’t even be mad if he did. 

What she is mad about, is the leisurely curl of his fingers, the idle strokes of his tongue as it caresses the tip of her puffy, aching clit. “Rhys…” She whines, hands gripping the sheets, the covers long-since tossed to the side. Violet eyes flick up from between her thighs and she tightens around his fingers as he emerges from where he had been applying himself, a silvery strand of arousal connecting from his lower lip to her cunt. “Hmm? I thought you wanted a break?” 

Feyre shoots him a glare before melting back into the bed. “You want the same thing I do,” she huffs, shifting her hips but it only causes his fingers to again push against that spot. “I do?” Rhys muses, lowering his head just enough to deliver a teasing lap to her clit. “And what is that?” Blue-grey eyes darken with hunger, turning the colour of stormy coastal skies. A dusky red colours her cheeks, the pink of her lips looking fuller than usual from teethmarks, “you know what.” 

“I want you to ask for it,” Rhys breathes, muscles flexing in his powerful shoulders as he lifts on to his arms, prowling up Feyre’s body until his lips are grazing the valley of her breasts. “Ask me to give it to you.” 

Feyre snorts. “You have a giving kink.” 

Fingers pluck at one of her nipples and she gasps. “Aren’t you lucky to have such a generous alpha as your mate?” 

“So generous,” Feyre fixes, a glint in her eyes as her fingers dance over the muscles in his broad shoulders. She lifts her smiling face from the pillows, just so their lips are brushing, “and so arrogant.” 

“It’s well-earned,” he protests, but Feyre doesn’t seem to bother with his reply, wrapping her legs around his hips. “I want your knot, Rhys.” 

The High Lord groans, shifting so each movement, every breath adds to the delicious pressure between them. “Ask me again.”

The High Lady rolls her eyes, a playful smirk on her lips, but adheres. “I want your knot. Will you give it to me?” 

“How could I ever refuse?” He murmurs causing Feyre to laugh, her blueish eyes twinkling as he presses one more kiss to her mouth. “Since you asked so nicely.” Another kiss. “I’m willing to indulge.” 

“How generous you are.” 

Rhys chuckles before righting himself, fingers skimming down the underside of Feyre’s thighs then looping beneath the black lace, “Lift up for me, Feyre.” The High Lady complies, happy to finally be shimmying free of the sopping underwear, legs parting to bear herself to her alpha. Rhys can’t help himself, running his middle and forth finger up through her centre, parting her until he reaches the tip of her swollen clit. How tempting it is to take her in his mouth again. But instead he wraps himself in his hand, guiding the tip to her entrance. 

Maybe he rubs his cock against her sex a few more times than he needs, just to work her up a bit more, bumping into her clit while precum leaks down his head. 

Feyre’s rosey lips part on a throaty moan as he pushes in, so easy for him to slide home by the amount of slick wetting her thighs and soaking the sheets below. “Greedy thing,” Rhys comments lowly when her legs squeeze his hips, making sure he’s flush with her cunt, “this is the fourth time this night you’re taking it.” 

“I’m not greedy.” Feyre tilts her hips, pushing the head of his cock to rub upward against her walls. “Is it greedy to want to have my mate inside of me?” 

Rhys drops a kiss to her lips, “not compared to your usual hunger.” 

“Your usual hunger.” 

“No? You don’t ever find yourself hungry for me, Feyre?”

Feyre huffs a laugh, her eyes twinkling. “Maybe sometimes.” 

“Only sometimes?” 

“Frequently.” 

Rhys smirks, drawing back his hips then pushing straight back in as if he can’t bear to be away from his omega for more than a second. Feyre’s moans grow incrementally in volume as the pace increases, already beginning to feel the skin at the base of him flaring, a sure sign he’s as hungry for her as she is for him. And with how much pleasure has already been raised to their surfaces it doesn’t take long for things to click into place. 

Legs wrap tight around the High Lord’s waist as they lock together, pleasure thrumming like something physical between them, smothering the air and turning their visions hazy. His knot presses against her inner walls, triggering pulses of pure ecstasy to sweep through both of them as the high is reached, a peak shared through the bond that joins them. 

Feyre’s back arcs, and Rhys allows his lips to press to the pulse point in her throat, feeling that heavy stutter beneath his mouth, taking a deep inhale of the scent that’s practically rolling from his divine mate in waves.

Gods, he doesn’t want her to ever come off his knot. 

What heaven it would be to have his darling Feyre wrapped around him, laying with him, holding him for as long as they could last. 

[tadpolesonalgae]

Feysand x f!reader: All Wrapped in One[*]

A/N: This started as feyre x reader but of course it would end up becoming a poly fic

Warnings: oral (f! Receiving), daemati shenanigans

Word Count: 2,173

——————————————————————————————————————————————

Her hands wrap around your middle, soft lips pressing a greeting kiss to the side of your neck.

The scent of warm spices fill the cozy space, wreaths of evergreen stitched through with sequinned pine cones and glittering red baubles, lines of sparkling tinsel and tinted, warm fae lights glowing about the ceiling’s edge. Mince pies that had been dropped off a day prior by your mate’s sister sit concealed beneath a glass dome, crystallised to look like frost at the base, to keep them fresh as the day they were baked.

“Morning,” she murmurs, nosing at the sensitive skin, pressing a small trail of nips and licks gradually edging toward the neckline of one of her paint-flecked shirts. A thrill tingles down your spine, softening into her arms, quickly forgetting whatever task you had been preoccupying yourself with. “Morning,” you reply, tilting your head slightly to one side, allowing her more access to the pleasurable area.

“You’re up early,” you mumble, shifting to turn in her arms, wanting to see her in that soft sleepy state she’s often wrapped in during the initial hour of waking. She allows it, elegant hands remaining comfortably on your wait, keeping your chest flush to her own, adorned in a deep blue woollen piece, some tiny snowflakes stitched in beautiful silver thread with tiny beads at their centre to appear more festive.

Rosy lips pull into a smile, nose bumping your own, eyes warm with tender adoration. “The bed was cold,” she murmurs, “was wondering where you were.” Her hands pull you a little tighter, and you catch a hint of her scent, warmth fluttering between your thighs. You avert your eyes, hands settling on her shoulders, trying to distract her as a flush begins to rise across your skin. “We should wait until Rhys gets home,” you reason, back curving a little with need, the simple hint of her desire for you enough to have your body reacting with equal want.

She hums absently, eyes dipping to your mouth with interest, clearly not having heard you. Lightly calloused fingertips swipe experimentally across the plushness of your lower lip, eyes flicking to her blue-grey set that are slightly glazed. “Feyre…” you mumble, muffled from her playing with your mouth. “Did you hear me?” You ask, an embarrassed flush settling beneath your skin.

Her eyes clear, sparking with a wicked gleam that has your legs feeling like custard. The edges of her rosy lips quirk, and you feel yourself melting, heat liquefying between your thighs. “Rhys says it’s fine,” she murmurs over your mouth, hands sneaking down over the curve of your hind, cupping and squeezing with appreciation before dropping a little lower. “So long as he gets his share this evening and all tomorrow,” she finishes, smoothly lifting you up onto the counter, a flick of magic clearing the surface so she can perch you atop it, settling between your thighs. A soft sound of surprise spills from your mouth, fingers pressing into the plush wool over her shoulders as she gently pushes your thighs apart.

Of course, Rhys had decided to take a day off from his business as the High Lord, putting aside the work Feyre’s still in the process of learning how to do. Teeth push to the inside of your lip at the thought of having them both around for an entire day—and hopefully more since the festivities have already commenced.

Her mouth settles over yours eagerly, and a quiet moan escapes your chest, her hands now freely roaming across your body, dipping beneath the hem of the paint-splattered shirt. Goosebumps prickle your skin with sensitivity, keyed to her touch as she explores the soft curve of your stomach, slowly making her way higher. When she dips to your neck, you melt like a marshmallow in a hot mug of cocoa, dissolving beneath the tender touch of your mate.

“Feyre…” you moan softly, hands pawing at the thick wool keeping her concealed from you. “Shouldn’t we… We should go somewhere else for this,” you manage to get out between the pleasure of the hot kisses she’s splaying across your throat. She seems intent on taking you right there though, despite being atop a counter in the snugly lit kitchen. “Feyre…” you repeat, hands threading in her hair, legs spreading wider despite trying to pull her away.

“What’s wrong with here?” She asks, encouraging your legs to squeeze her tight, wanting to feel how much you want her. “It’s the kitchen,” you reason quietly, unable to quite look away from her heated blue-grey eyes. “We shouldn’t be doing this in here.” Her gaze pins you with desire, keeping you still as she slowly pushes the hem of her shirt up over your thighs, practically tempting you to try denying her. You tighten around nothing at the actions, feeling how arousal has no doubt begun seeping through your underwear already.

“I think this is the perfect place,” she murmurs, leaning closer, rosy lips brushing your own teasingly, and you’re struck by the desire to have them playing with your breasts, skilful tongue flicking over the peaks of your nipples. “The kitchen is where food gets prepared isn’t it?” She asks lowly, fingers dipping into the band of your underthings, snapping it against your hip, pulling lightly on the string so it drags against your needy clit, lips parting on a silent breath. “And I’m going to spend the day getting you all nice and ready for us to enjoy tonight,” she drawls softly, pushing you back onto the counter, so your spine is laying flat against the cool marble.

It knocks any and all remaining fight from your body, content to let her use and explore to her pleasure. You swallow heavily as she smiles from between your legs, eyes glinting with heat as she slowly drags the cotton up over your stomach to reveal your soaking underwear. The smile widens with hunger, her fingers settling at the apex of your thighs before lightly trailing down, until she reaches the soft dip. Applies a slight pressure, watching as your back arches from the surface, hips shifting as you attempt to squirm lower, to have her fingers inside of you, pulling the sweet, sugar-dusted noises from your lips.

“Do you want me?” She asks teasingly, playing idly with the band of your underwear, dragging the tips of her fingers over your sensitive skin. “Feyre…” you groan, need building to the point of aches between your legs. You don’t know what you’ll do if she’s set her mind on edging you all day. If she decides to keep you from cumming until Rhys gets home… You had been the one to insist on trying to wait.

“Please,” you whine, pushing your legs wider in desperate invitation, nails biting into the softness of your palms. “Want you so badly, please.” Her lips part in a smile, hunger gleaming in blue-grey eyes, lowering between your legs as she takes the band of your underwear in her teeth, fingers hooking over the strings at your hips to help as she drags them down. Starving hunger intensifies in her gaze when she lays sights on your dripping wet heat, tongue swiping out to soothe the sudden dryness of her mouth.

A low curse rasps from her chest before she’s leaning forward, dragging her tongue up your centre, relishing in your taste, memorising the arch of your spine, how happily you put your legs over her shoulders, pressing the cotton-socked soles of your feet lightly against her back, raising your hips. Moans start spilling freely from your lips, enjoying the wet heat of her mouth once it’s sealed over your cunt, tongue swirling and suckling at your aching clit, giving you the attention you’ve been craving ever since she put her hands on you earlier.

A quiet laugh flutters from her lips, and you manage enough strength to push up onto your forearms, weakly peering down at her. “Rhys told you to open wider,” she drawls, and wild heat bursts across your skin. Look away shyly as you push your thighs to settle further apart on your mate’s shoulders, dipping your head at the thought of him watching through feyre’s eyes. What an intimate view he has.

Talons gently graze down your flimsy mental walls, and your back arches as Rhys slips inside your head, able to watch from whichever perspective he’d like.

You’re making concentration rather difficult over here.

A pleasurable shiver spider-walks up your spine at his deep, honeyed voice, roughened with arousal. Teeth push into your lip, desperate to have them both with you.

Feyre said you told it was fine… You send back softly—a little shakily, not entirely used to speaking like this. A low laugh drags through your sensitive shields, talons leisurely gazing inside your mind.

She told me she’d be having you on the kitchen countertop, and to get done with work if I wanted a taste before she tires you out.

Between your thighs, Feyre shoots you a grin, seemingly aware of the conversation going on, and a small moan flutters from your chest. Heat flushes your skin, but you make your reply anyway.

I can’t say I disagree with her…

Within your mind, you feel something shift, as if able to feel the build of his own arousal, awareness spearing directly to you to provide more stimulation.

I really have my hands full between the two of you.

I bet you do, High Lord, Feyre drawls, having joined without you noticing. Her tongue presses at your entrance, and you tighten eagerly, urging her for more.

Rhys groans lowly, and you feel your vision going in and out of focus as his arousal becomes more intense in your mind, the two of them curling together with you, making you dizzy with pleasure. An image appears in your mind, Feyre’s fingers slipping inside you in the same moment and you feel yourself reaching the curve of your high, where you’ll soar a little higher before making the pleasurable free-fall.

The High Lord does indeed have his hands full, one steadily holding the arm of his chair, the other stroking himself firmly, a pearly bead of precum nestled at his tip.

What you wouldn’t give to be on your knees before him—flick your tongue over the moisture there.

Your lips part, back arching as he takes a little of your control, moving your hand to graze across the softness of your stomach, hundreds of tiny muscles fluttering beneath the feather-light touch. His name moans from your lips as he makes you move higher, slipping beneath the hem of the shirt, reaching up to palm your breast, and you know he’s taking in every sensation.

Breaths turn shallow, wild heat bursting through your lower abdomen as Feyre’s fingers touch a spot inside of you, seemingly having been searching for it. Lips part in sheer pleasure as you reach that peak, tipping over the edge while she suckles at your sensitive clit, Rhys directing both your hands to palm your breasts, playing with your nipples as he floods your mind with filthy memories, filling you with touches, and scents, and tastes, utterly overwhelming as you babble.

Toes curl at her back, helping press her deeper to your heat as she continues working you within an inch of your life, fingers grazing those spots teasingly, mouth sealed over your heat so she can focus on your clit, easing you down from the high.

You pant heavily, needing to recover from the sheer intensity they’d put you through, muscles beginning to relax after being pulled taut with pleasure.

There you go. So good for us, aren’t you?

Your back arches at the rough drag of Rhys’ voice within your sensitive mind, tongue swiping over your lower lip. Blue-grey eyes latch on your own as she rises from between your legs, and your mouth has already opened by the time she lays her own atop it. Arousal mixes between you, one of her hands sliding beneath your shirt to graze across your nipple, playing with the sensitive peak.

Better get home soon Rhys, Feyre drawls across the bond, lifting herself up onto the counter in a single swift movement, and you hear him sigh with what you can only imagine is exasperation. A smile spreads across your features at the intimate sound, more than happy to shuffle further up the counter to give her space to move. Licking your lips eagerly as she crawls to settle her thighs either side your head, pulling her underwear to the side.

You two really are something, aren’t you?

As if to prove him right, you hook your arms over her hips, pulling her down onto your mouth while still feeling him in your mind, his arousal already building despite just having been relieved.

Hurry back, you send across softly, lapping at her entrance.

Then you can deal with us.

——————————————————————————————————————————————

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks

feysand taglist: @girlmadeofavocados @zara-aliza08

[babybemydownfall]

Mind and Soul

AKA Helion visits Velaris and learns all about Feyre's glow.

My first ever Feyre x Rhysand fanfic. I haven't written in years, but I recently read the ACOTAR series and of course these two just imprinted themselves on me.

My mind is now continuously full of smutty one shots, and here is the first.

Rated M/NSFW. Pretty much PWP, with Helion and wine for added entertainment.

If you find this, if you read it, if you enjoy it - please let me know!

Now posted on AO3 as well.

II

"You fuck her while you're flying?"

It has been almost a year since the end of the Hybern war, and some kind of peace has settled across most of Prythian. Since the secret of Velaris came out during the conflict, Rhysand and Feyre have begun to host their allies - their friends - in their home city. To show off the place they so love, the place Rhys and his ancestors have governed and protected for millennia. Helion came first, two months back. He stayed for a week with a small entourage, and everyone involved spent the entire time either drinking or hungover. Feyre had never seen her mate so at ease with anyone outside his Inner Circle, and she loved discovering yet another new side to him.

Even when he winnowed home intoxicated each night, long after she’d excused herself from the raucous drinking circles at the House of Wind, stumbling into furniture and waking her up. “For a lethal predator you make a hell of a lot of noise,” she grumbled the fourth time it happened. Usually she just tried to go back to sleep, but tonight something made her turn to him. She sent sparks of flame to the candles on the dresser.

“Sorry,” Rhys whispered, so loudly he may as well have been shouting. She sat up, watching him pull off his clothes - all of them - and felt her body heating up despite itself. Coming to bed alone was so unusual, and even though they made up for it each morning, Feyre suddenly felt starved of him.

He caught her gaze and his beautiful mouth curved into a devilish smile. “You missed me.” He let his eyes roam downwards, focusing on her breasts which instantly swelled beneath her cream satin slip. The friction against her nipples made her gasp softly.  

“Oh darling,” he sighed, kneeling on the bed and crawling towards her. He was so gloriously naked, with his tanned, tattooed muscles, dark wings and rapidly rising erection, that Feyre felt her mouth start to water. “Admit it,” he said when his face was an inch from hers. “Say that you missed me as much as I missed you.”

She could smell the alcohol on his breath, but his arousal was so strong it had immediately sharpened what the drinking had dulled. He really was a predator, and now he had only one thing on his mind.

Feyre swallowed at the power he contained, the power her held over - but tried her best not to let it show. She had power too. More than enough to make him fall to the ground at her feet.

“You missed me?” she asked lightly, hands rising to his shoulders, his neck and jaw and into his hair. Exploring the contours she knew so well, and yet could never get enough of.

Rhys leaned into her touch, closing his eyes. “From the moment you left. I didn’t even get to kiss you goodbye.”

“You were busy with your friends. You deserve to enjoy yourself, after everything.”

He looked at her again; kissed the tip of her thumb as it caressed his lips. “I still wanted to ravish you before you left. I always want to ravish you. And as nice as it is having Helion here, I miss it being just us.”

“Me too,” she sighed.

As they gazed into each other’s eyes the air around them closed in, becoming thicker, hotter, making it harder to breathe. Feyre thought of a hundred things to say, a thousand ways to tell him how much she loved him, but it all seemed insignificant when she could show him instead. She slipped her thumb past his lips, feeling his teeth clamp down, and it instantly set her alight.

She closed the space between them and captured his mouth in a searing kiss. Her body rose automatically into his until they were both kneeling, connected thigh to thigh, his cock pressed into her belly and her aching breasts pushed tight against his chest. His huge arms wrapped around her back, fingers in her hair, squeezing her backside - all of him, all over her, and it wasn’t enough. It never was.

After devouring her for several long, luscious moments, Rhys moved to sit back against the pillows and pulled her to straddle his lap. His tongue was hot in her mouth again as his hand reached between them and pushed up the short hem of her gown, groaning when he found her bare beneath. He slid his fingers against her and then straight inside, when he discovered she was soaking wet and could take him. Feyre’s head fell backwards and she moaned from the depths of her soul.

Fuck, he shouted inside her mind. You are so- Feyre! I’m so-

Incoherent? she managed to tease, although Gods-knew how because she was rapidly turning into a puddle of molten fire. So unlike you, High Lord.

Rhys growled aloud and bit the side of her neck, hard enough to make her yelp, to gush more wetness onto the fingers which were stroking her insides at an increasingly rapid pace. She knew what it did to him when she used his title like that. Knew what he’d do to her when his arousal leapt up another notch - and shivered in anticipation.

His tongue licked the spot he’d just hurt and Feyre’s hands went to pull off her nightgown, the last barrier between them, but he stopped her with his mind.

Leave it on. You look… so sexy.

Yes my Lord, she replied breathlessly. This time he bit her breast through her gown, just below her left nipple, and then sucked the whole area into his mouth, swirling his tongue over her again and again. The roughness of the wet fabric, the pressure of his mouth, the scrape of his teeth on one of her most sensitive parts - it was nothing but pure ecstasy.

I want to lick you everywhere. I want to drown in your wetness. I want you to come on my tongue, my face as I suck on your clit-

The only other sign of his insobriety - his thoughts rolling freely into her mind, completely unfiltered and unbelievably arousing.

Do it then, she urged, already close to the edge. Just fucking do it, Rhys darling.

He pushed her back onto the mattress and ate her out so thoroughly she came in no time at all, her thighs squeezing his head as golden light burst through her skin, bright behind her eyelids. Then darkness came, enveloping her senses as Rhys settled his weight on her and began to pound into her, lifting her left leg over his elbow and kissing her wildly, with all the heat inside his magnificent body.

Again, he commanded.

Yes High Lord.

“Fuck, Feyre,” he gasped against her lips, quickening his pace even further. She was so close to orgasm again, the all-consuming, earth-shattering kind that he gave her every single time he was inside her like this. As his mouth dipped to suck on her nipples again, she reached over his shoulders and ran her thumbs along the edges of his wings; gripped them tight as he roared and she screamed and they came together, a tangle of sweaty limbs and thundering hearts and desperate, messy kisses.

Eventually, finally, they stilled.

“Wow,” Feyre breathed, touching his face with reverent fingertips, marvelling at him even after all this time.

“Wow indeed,” Rhys grinned, nuzzling her nose with his. “I hope you weren’t doubting my ability to perform, after the drinking.”

“Would I?” she asked innocently.

“Hmm.” He shifted his hips and made her groan. “Well, you need never doubt me again.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, my Lord.”

She kissed him sweetly even as his eyes darkened, and then pushed his shoulders so he reluctantly moved off her. Taking his hand, she led him into the bathroom and they took a very quick, very soapy shower together. She realised the alcohol had finally caught up with him when he didn’t even try to seduce her again - just lovingly held her as she washed him, humming contentedly against the top of her head.

They snuggled back into bed and she felt his body and mind curl around hers, as he did every night. Just after she put out the candles and closed her eyes, a sudden thought came to her - one so bizarre, it made her burst out laughing.

“What?” Rhys asked drowsily, right on the edge of sleep already.

“My glow. Helion’s light. I wonder if he has any idea what he gave me.”

Through the bond, shimmering as golden as ever after their shared release, she felt something akin to guilt from her mate.

After a moment of hesitation, Rhys confessed: He does.

Oh. Because… the same thing happens to him, after sex?

No. Because I told him.

And then he sent her a memory, of them sitting together earlier that night, overlooking Velaris as Helion quizzed him on Feyre’s power. “She glows like the sun,” Rhys had said reverently, and she knew from his voice and the haze of the images that they were already several drinks deep. “When she… When we’re… in bed together. Not just in bed, obviously. On the floor, in the bath; against the wall. When we’re flying-”

Helion had choked on his wine. “You fuck her while you’re flying?”

“Several times now,” Rhys had said and she could hear him smirking. “It’s… high stakes, high reward.”

“Gods almighty.” Helion whistled through his teeth, his eyes bright with amusement and - was that envy?

The memory faded. Feyre thought she should feel embarrassed, that this other male - practically a stranger to her - knew how she looked when she orgasmed. But of all the Fae in Prythian, Helion had to be one of the most open and sexually free. So much so, she actually felt pride at the fact that Rhys had managed to shock him.

He said he wished he could try it sometime, Rhys confirmed, his thoughts so tired she could barely hear them. I politely declined, of course. Even though I know he wants me.

Feyre snorted. You wish.

I don’t. You’re the only one for me, High Lady.

She squeezed his arm tighter around her. Next time we play, you can call me that.

Oh, I will. I love you.

I love you too. Forever.

She felt him drift off into a dream, and followed shortly after. Her last thought was that lunch at the townhouse tomorrow with their honoured guest was going to be interesting, now that he knew one of her most intimate secrets…

II

Of course, Helion made sure he was seated right beside her at lunch. They ate in the dining room, all of their Inner Circle and his filling the twelve seats around the long table. Mor was flirting with Athenna, a beautiful dark-skinned female with waves of black hair down to her hips. They had been drinking and dancing together last night, and Feyre wondered if they’d gone home together. They certainly looked close, touching each other at every opportunity, giggling into their champagne glasses as they tried and failed to maintain some sense of decorum.

Not that it mattered. The House of Wind was where they hosted their formal engagements. Here in Rhys’s home, her home, they wanted their guests to feel as relaxed as possible. And with the warmth of the roaring fire in the hearth, the platters of hot meats and vegetables and gravies, the animated chit chat between acquaintances old and new, Feyre looked around and knew that they were. And it made her heart so happy, to know they had found peace, and great friends, and love.

Helion, who had taken Mor to his bed the last time they all met in Dawn, didn’t seem to care in the slightest that she was half-draped over one of his most trusted advisors. His attention was entirely on Feyre as she helped herself to roast potatoes.

“I heard a very interesting fact about you last night, Feyre Cursebreaker.”

“Oh yes?” she asked innocently, adding slices of venison to her plate.

“Yes. And once I learned this fact, I wondered if I might be able to - sense it. Being here in Velaris, so close to my power.”

“My power, remember.”

She held his gaze for a moment, a smile pulling at the corners of her lips, and he inclined his head slightly in acknowledgement. “Indeed. And so there I was, finally lying in my bed after a most enjoyable evening being plied with drink by your dear Rhysand - and then I felt it. Felt you.”

His amber eyes shone, and his voice was a purr when he said: “Feyre - it felt good.”

She glanced over at Rhys, her smile now a full-on smirk. “He does.”

Helion grinned, showing off all his perfect white teeth. “I am in no way surprised.”

Rhys obviously felt them staring at him, despite being deep in conversation with his neighbour, because he frowned and silently asked Feyre, What?

Nothing darling. Our guest is just speculating on your sexual prowess. 

Ah. I hope you told him it is unparalleled. Something that has to be seen to be believed. 

Are you inviting him into our bed?!

He laughed in her mind, his lips curving as he took a long drink from his glass. He wouldn’t say no, if we asked.

Rhys!

You know I’m right. 

Feyre shook her head, chuckling to herself even as her cheeks felt warm. Helion noticed, as he seemed to notice everything about her. 

“How I would love to have a lover like yours, Feyre dear. Someone who could whisper their every dirty, depraved thought straight into my mind. Someone who could make me blush like that across rooms, cities; mountains and seas.”

“It does come in handy,” she mused, enjoying Helion’s attention and the chance to show off just how smoking hot her relationship with her mate was. She couldn’t talk like this to Mor or Amren, or to his brothers or her sisters - they all felt like they saw too much already. And while she had a few friends in the city now, particularly in the art studios and restaurants of the Rainbow Quarter, she was first and foremost their High Lady. They would be horrified if she started talking about her sex life.

She leaned in to Helion, breathing in his warm, spicy scent as she spoke close to his ear: “I can feel him in my mind, as well as on my body. He can fuck me in both places at once. His power reaches for mine, and mine for his, and they wrap around each other, so close it’s impossible to tell where he ends and I begin.”

Even speaking the words out loud was turning her on. She hadn’t ever really stepped back to think about how unique she and Rhys were: two daemati, two of the most powerful Fae in history, not just in love with one another but mated. Forever bonded by their minds and their souls. And when their naked bodies entwined, when they whispered ‘I love you’ over and over as their hearts thundered to the same beat - no two creatures should be able to contain so much raw, unadulterated power, so much love and passion and longing. It was no wonder Feyre felt like she was going to explode, each and every time. It was no wonder she burned like the sun and Rhys’s darkness soared out of him, stars and moons and entire galaxies sweeping away everything in their path.

She felt goosebumps on her skin and swallowed. Helion was perfectly still as he listened, enthralled and - she had no doubt - aroused as well.

“He sends me pictures too,” she continued in a lighter tone, trying to quell the growing ache between her legs. “So I can see myself as he sees me, as he’s fucking me. Or if we’re apart, we can… tease each other.”

She knew Rhys was looking at her now, undoubtedly fully aware of how flustered she had made herself, but she couldn’t look back at him or she would be climbing over the table to pounce on his delicious body. Caught in the full attention of two High Lords, her blood pounding through her veins, Feyre had no idea what to say next - but fortunately for her, Cassian interrupted them from Helion’s other side.

“You two look very cosy together,” he said, oblivious to the topic of conversation. “What are you gossiping about?”

Helion smiled broadly as he began, “Feyre-”

But Rhys immediately cut him off, his voice friendly but firm. “-Is entitled to her secrets.”

Their guest’s honey-coloured eyes were full of amusement. “As I was going to say, Rhysand, Feyre is clearly enjoying life here in the City of Starlight. Every single day, she positively… glows.”

“Oh, at least once,” Rhys smirked, and then changed the subject so swiftly that Cassian and anyone else listening had no time to work out what he could possibly mean by that.

“Can I propose a toast?” he said loudly, and the whole table quietened. His brilliant violet eyes gazed first at Helion, and then straight into Feyre’s as he went on: “To our alliance with the Day Court. To the coming together of great minds and souls.”

His intonation was lost on everyone else as they toasted, but Helion laughed aloud and Feyre flushed from head to toe at the fact he’d heard everything she’d said, and the fact that he liked it, judging by the dark desire painted all over his face.

As much as I want to, he told her, his smooth voice caressing the inside of her skull, We can’t leave this table just yet. But perhaps you can send me some of those pictures you were telling Helion about?

Prick, Feyre replied, clenching her thighs together despite herself.

Come on, darling. Show me how you want me later.

She picked up her glass and drank the rest of the champagne straight down. Then formed an image of herself dancing with Helion in the living room, both fully dressed but entwined together, while Rhys was forced to sit and watch, his wrists bound to his chair - and flung it into his mind.

He blinked in shock, and then the most dangerous smile lifted the corners of his lips. Feyre was remotely aware that Helion had started conversing with Cassian, obviously realising that he had lost her attention. And she knew it was rude, especially as she was his host, but she just couldn’t bring herself to care right now. Not when her mate sent his own pictures back to her - of the same scene but with him naked, reclining on the chair as he stroked himself, getting off on watching her move her body against another male.

Rhys! she yelped, shifting in her seat. She longed to be closer to him, to be able to smell and touch him, to feel his muscles and his power thrumming next to her own. But she knew that if she moved any closer, it would be the end of decency.

Eat, he commanded, fully aware of her internal struggle. Most of the time she loved that he knew her so well - better than she knew herself, in a lot of ways - but right now she just wanted to damn him for winning the upper hand yet again.

And, sweet Feyre, he went on, At least try not to look like you’re thinking about me fucking you in here.

It was a miracle that she got through the rest of the meal, and dessert, and fortified wine, with more rounds of toasting as everyone grew merrier and more uninhibited. They eventually adjourned to the living room, spilling out into the back garden, and it was hours but felt like days until Rhys tugged on her hand and stole her away from the party, winnowing them into his study and pressing her back into the locked door.

“Hi lover,” she breathed, gazing at him with all the adoration and desire she felt for him as her arms locked around his neck and she drew him as close as physically possible. It had been sweet torture being so near to him all afternoon and yet unable to touch him, to hold him in the ways she wanted to most of all. “Is it finally time?”

“For what?” he asked, his voice low, his body hot and humming with deadly promise.

For you to take me in here. She sounded playful and sultry; a combination she knew drove him wild. Come and smother me in your darkness. Come and lick me all over. Come and claim me.

His growl made the bookshelves shudder.

His mind and soul, heart and body claimed her so thoroughly she didn’t even know her own name by the end.

And outside, as he felt her power suddenly burst free, Helion fell to his knees under the early evening sky and roared with laughter.

II

[popjunkie42]

Hungry Thirsty Roots - Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Chapter Two:

“We must not look at goblin men, We must not buy their fruits: Who knows upon what soil they fed Their hungry thirsty roots?”

Christina Rosetti Goblin Market

Feyre faces the consequences of her poorly-worded wish as she returns to a mate enchanted to give her all of her desires.

Tags: just so much smut, mild magical dubcon, UTM stuff, light bondage

Thank you to my loves @climbthemountain2020 and @witch-and-her-witcher for the beta read!

I don't know, I just wrote you so many words of smut. I also don't want to let go of October. Don't look too closely at the plot or anything here. Please enjoy!

Read on AO3 and a snippet under the cut:

Feyre’s bare feet knocked uselessly against the wall, her hands pinned above her, firm pressure on her neck robbing her lungs of air.

In the darkness, all she could see was the flash of violet eyes, the bright glint of teeth.

Just as quickly as it came, the magic grip released around her neck and she coughed, still dangled off the wall, the tang of magic in the air.

“Rhys - what -”

“I believe I asked you a question, human.”

The High Lord hovered in the sharp silver light of the moon. His eyes - his eyes were swallowed up with deep swirling violet, not stars but whole galaxies rippling in them, undulating like waves on the sea. Not a black pupil in sight.

Feyre froze.

She could still feel the path the peach pit took down her throat, thick and rugged.

I wish for one night with my mate where things are back as they were, in the beginning between us.

Breaths came out of her in heavy pants. In the beginning between us. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Before she could sift through the enchantment at work on her mate, the cool tickle of smoky midnight tendrils caressed her bruised throat again. A reminder, laced with threat.

Sometimes she forgot what he had been like Under the Mountain. Something sickly churned in her stomach and she wondered if the enchantment would end if she threw the whole pit up.

“It isn’t wise to keep a High Lord waiting, darling. Or do you simply have no good explanation, and are attempting to save a shred of your dignity?”

Feyre blinked, the oxygen finally flooding back into her brain.

She had forgotten this too - how he could be such an insufferable ass.

Dressed as casually as he was, with a fine embroidered dressing robe over his bare chest and soft sleep pants, one might think he would be slightly less menacing. But even as his bare feet sunk into the carpet of their bedroom, Feyre couldn’t help the chills that erupted over her flesh. He cocked his head, all observant predator, and desire started to grow unbidden, a heat deep in her gut.

Surprising, and annoying, that he could always affect her so. Even this vulnerable to him - her body exposed for the taking.

Or perhaps because of it?

He clicked his tongue, disappointed. “So, I’ve caught the stubborn, vicious human girl sticking her pretty nose somewhere it doesn’t belong. The guards once told you I’d pull your skin from your body, strip by strip. A little messy for me, truth be told. Tell me Feyre, how would you like to be punished for invading a High Lord’s room without an invitation?”

The chill of fear turned into the crackling fire of anger - sparks that started to catch in her chest.

The joints of her shoulders burned, blood rushed from her fingertips, but she readjusted to straighten her body, lifted her chin.

First she was going to deal with her mate, and then she was going to hunt Mother Enfys down and repay her hospitality in kind.

His mind was trapped in an earlier time - her mate and his mask Under the Mountain. But it was fine. She knew him there, as well.

“I’m not afraid of you, Rhysand.”

He stopped his pacing, facing her fully. Dark features highlighted in the moonlight, haughty and beautiful.

“Stubborn, vicious…and foolish too.”

Feyre bared her teeth. Leave it to her mate to make her want to slap him and eat him whole.

And he stood so far away she couldn’t even feel the heat of his body, could barely catch his scent.

Unacceptable.

“Is part of my punishment being tied up and forced to listen to you talk to yourself?” Feyre asked.

The High Lord quirked an impatient eyebrow, flicked a piece of lint off of his shoulder.

She wanted him so much, annoyed as she was, it made her feel light headed again. The lack of his touch - his careful distance - was primed to drive her mad. Combined with the insistent thrum of the mating bond in her chest, to protect, protect - any distance from him was somewhat unbearable. And any panic and fear were eaten up into something else, stoked inside her belly - a thrill, a need, to break through his walls.

What do you dream of? Mother Enfys had asked.

“You haven’t answered my question yet, of what you’re doing here. And dressed so deliciously.”

A little scoff escaped her mouth. He might be enchanted, but he was still her mate.

Her eyes roamed over his form as he regarded her, haughty and bored. Besides the enchantment in his eyes, he seemed…fine. Body whole and unharmed, at least. Personality matched to his dark mask.

But would he remember this in the morning? Would he be angry with her? If the roles were reversed, would he have locked her in a closet, kept safe and alone until morning broke the enchantment cast over them both?

Guilt welled up under her racing mind, under her desire. This was her fault, her foolish bargain.

Feyre took a breath, trying to calm her thoughts.

Whatever might happen, he was hers and she was his. He could trust her, always. She wouldn’t let any harm befall him.

And maybe, just maybe, he could be convinced to let something like this go, in light of his past transgressions.

He stared at her, still waiting for an answer, his annoyed menace filling the room like smoke.

“What if I’m here for you?” Feyre spoke aloud into the cold.

Rhysand smiled, incisors flashed. “Now you want me to believe you enjoy my company? Tell the truth now. I can read your mind, you know.”

She licked her lips, plotting, weighing what she knew of her mate - “You’ll laugh.”

“The alternative is you’re punished for lying.”

“Oh.”

Feyre wondered if he had noticed her scent changing, the way she watched his powerful thighs as he paced. The way her mouth was parted, tasting the air for his scent.

Speak your desire, and it will be fulfilled.

She breathed deeply, wet her lips. Spoke, voice a quiet whisper:

“How would you punish me?”

Rhysand went still.

The air between them charged, like crackling lightning. She shivered, muscles taut.

Ribbons of darkness slowly unfurled against her skin as she was released, and she dropped her arms with a sigh, blood rushing back to her fingertips.

Frowning, the High Lord strode towards her. A voice in her whispered: finally.

He towered over her, standing above her like a looming shadow.

Feyre let herself feel the thrill of fear again. If this was her role, then she would play it, and well - the human plaything of the dark High Lord.

“What are you scheming, Feyre?” he asked, his voice low between them. “You know how dangerous it is when you get silly ideas in your head.”

Prick prick prick. “I think they’ve gotten me this far.”

He snorted, very un-High Lord-like. “Not without ample amounts of my assistance, if you’ll recall.”

Oh, he was infuriating, and oh, how she loved him. Warmth spread in her chest as she remembered his assistance. The knife’s edge they walked underground. The way he loved her, even now…how even now he was protecting her. Even from himself.

Feyre didn’t know how much he remembered, perceived about their changed circumstances under the enchantment. Perhaps she was glamoured in his eyes - rounded ears, shorter limbs, that hungry, fierce human look. But she would play her part - and she thought she could lead him to what they both wanted.

“Why did you come to my room, Feyre?”

She was silent a moment, and she pressed her wrists together in front of her, as if she longed to be bound again. “I got lost looking for the kitchens,” she lied.

He stepped closer, his breath brushing her hair. “Stop playing games. You’re terrible at them.”

In her mind, Feyre carved out a small room, right at the surface, for him. Filled it with her feelings, her desires, her needs. Shielding over all the memories, her amusement, her plots barreling towards seduction.

“I’m not playing games.” Wasn’t she? What might one call a drunken bargain in a magic market, a fumbling and inelegant wish spoken into the air? If not a game then a foolish mistake - but one she had to see through to the end now.

She had to be bold - be brave. “I wanted -” the faltering of her voice was not an act. “Just one night. Just for one night, I want you to help me feel something different. Something…” she stuttered, grown shy again, missing the words to what she wanted. Rhys’s jaw was clenched tight in front of her. She tried to capture her feelings, send them down the bond.

Something to banish away the memories of Under the Mountain, of her bleeding to death in a bed. But also something controlled, something that might be frightening but where her life wouldn’t be at risk…flesh she would trust under his hands.

Rhysand’s eyes flickered back and forth across her face, unsettling under the enchantment. “You believe you can trust me enough for that?”

“Can I?”

His eyes shuttered. Then closed.

“You’re a fool to trust anyone down here, any of us at all,” he said, his voice quiet, opening his eyes again to see her face.

“No, I’m not. Not with you.”

He was so close to her now, his scent in her nose. The darkness poured from him like water.

Feyre leaned up on her toes to kiss him, but he twisted his face away from her. Still uncertain.

“Please,” she whispered against his cheek. That hammering need inside of her roared to life, overcome with wanting him - his skin, his heat, his body - as much as air, as water.

He growled, and for a moment she was afraid he was angry. He swooped down so his teeth were next to her neck, her pulse thrumming in her veins.

His breath was warm and wet on her skin, and she shivered.

“I like it when you beg.”

Feyre couldn’t help her grin.

“I know.”

Halting, testing, Rhys placed a gentle kiss on her hammering pulse, his tongue flicking out to taste her skin, and she whimpered.

She could feel his smile against the skin of her neck, the pleased hum from his chest.

“Now darling, how do you think a High Lord should punish you for lying?”

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Wicked Games

Assassin!Reader x Poly!Feysand

Author's note: This is my first self-insert and first smut, wanted to try something new for a change. Not proof-read, we die like men.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

This mission was supposed to be simple, quick. In and out, cut and dry, the job coming in like all the others: A manila envelope under your door, no markings, the target and order inside. That was how it had always been, how it always would be, it was the only thing you knew to be true. So how in the Seven Hells had you ended up here? The High Lord leaned against the wall, his well pressed shirt open half way down his chest, the swirl of Illyrian ink in stark contrast to his bronze skin, so casual in the face of what should have been his own demise. Worse, the High Lady, perched atop the desk, her bare legs bouncing against the wood as she kicked her feet almost giddily. Neither of them looked displeased with the fact that you had been sent there to kill them. In fact, you were quite sure the infamous Curse Breaker was laughing at you as you squirmed uncomfortably in your seat. They hadn't even tied you down! It was starting to feel like an insult, they way they'd simply ushered you in here and asked you to sit like you'd come in for a meeting and not for the poison you'd slipped into their wine minutes before.

"It was a valiant effort, really," said Rhysand as he pushed away from the wall and came to stand behind you.

It was impossible not to be aware of the sheer power of him when he was this close. It was like a dropping a stone into a pond, the ripple of star-kissed power brushing steadily against you. You'd been around powerful males your whole life, had been trained to kill many of them, but none had ever felt like this. He was the shadow of a thought in your mind, a brush of darkness against your skin, you could practically taste jasmine and citrus.

Feyre was no better as she placed her elbows on her knees and leaned forward to get a better look at you. The dress she wore was cut low, the neckline plunging towards her midsection, accentuating every curve when she sat like that. Power radiated off her, not just Night, but something other, as if something beyond the power of the High Lords prowled beneath her skin.

"Not many people dare try," she said with a grin. She'd been the one to catch you. It had been a mistake going for her first, you could see that clearly now. The decision to spike their wine and than disguise yourself as their new cupbearer was already a risky move, but you liked to be absolutely sure the job was done, and done right. And Feyre hadn't taken her throne, she had been perched in Rhysand's lap, kissing his neck and whispering in his ear as she drank cup after cup. You'd thought she would be too drunk to notice the change in taste, too caught up in the revelry to even notice that you were not their usual cup bearer. You had been very, very wrong. She hadn't even gone in for a sip, had somehow been using her public display of affection to distract from the fact that she'd slipped right into your mind and seen exactly what you had done. And still, she could have killed you right there, could have summoned water or flames or ice and you'd heard she could do and taken you out in front of everyone in the Court of Nightmares. But she'd gotten out of Rhysand's lap, stumbling on heels you thought were too tall for her, and thrown an arm around your shoulder, whispering in your ear that she needed your help finding the bathroom--and knocking the spiked drinks out of your hands in the process. It was very clear to you now that she had never been drunk in the first place.

Neither of them were anything like the report you'd gotten.

"I-" what was there to say? Words felt useless.

Rhysand leaned down, resting the bulk of his weight on the back of the chair, his lips dangerously close to your ear. "So who do I get to thank for sending you?"

You shivered at his proximity, at his warm breath over the shell of your ear. Not many people dared to get this close to you; not many people got the better of you like this either. This was certainly a lot of firsts.

When you gave no response, Feyre said, "Don't be shy."

They were likely to rip the answer right out of your skull with those terrifying daemati powers if you kept your mouth shut, or worse, summon that Shadowsinger you'd seen lurking around the halls earlier. "I don't know."

Rhysand made a disappointed sound from where he still hovered by your ear. You refused to try and turn to look at him, refused to acknowledge that you had even heard him.

Feyre jumped off the top of the desk, her stilettoes clicking against the polished marble floors. "Now, now, don't make this difficult for yourself."

"Your secret is safe with us," Rhysand said mockingly.

"I don't know! I get my orders in the mail. There's never a return address or signature."

"Where's the mail?"

"I burned it."

"Well in that case," his voice was the only warning before you felt something scrape against your mental shields. You tried to throw more walls up as a talon slashed across your mind, but it was not Rhysand that slipped past, but Feyre, quick and quite as the huntress they said she used to be. She laughed as she sprinted through your memories, all attempts at shielding useless as Rhysand kept poking at what little shields you had up to distract you. They were the perfect team, synced to perfection, each move calculated and sharpened.

Feyre stepped into the memory of you opening the envelope as simply as if she had stepped through a doorway. The memory unfolded for her, you saw your own hands break the seal, open the letter, and burn it in a flash, before reality broke back through. You shook your head, fighting the memory away like it was a spot in your eye.

"That handwriting looked familiar, didn't it, Darling," Rhysand purred, the low timber of his voice rumbling in your ear.

"How thoughtful of Keir to give us an Anniversary gift," Feyre returned.

Keir. You only knew the stories about him, what a horrible male he was. You'd been lucky to have not been born in the Court of Nightmares like your mother, had grown up only with the tales of what kind of place this was. Your mother had protected you for as long as she could, but when Amarantha had come, when war bands had fought and bickered over land in the little territory she and your father had managed to make for themselves... well, they were gone and you'd had to find a way to survive, but you hadn't forgotten those stories. Your stomach twisted. This job had never been easy, but it had never been for males like Kier. At least, you'd never thought so.

You must have looked surprised because Feyre put two manicured fingers under your chin and tilted your head up to look at you. Something wicked gleamed in those strikingly blue eyes and you quickly blurted, "I swear I didn't know! I needed the money, I didn't know the job was from him."

"We believe you," she said. "But I think you should prove you're worth letting go."

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "I'll do anything!"

Rhysand chuckled at that. "Anything?"

The suggestiveness in the question made you shiver, more so when the High Lady broke into a grin. That couldn't be a good sign.

"I want to see Keir sweat a little, don't you dear?" Feyre asked over your head to her mate.

"More than just a little, I should think."

This felt like a fever dream, everything a little distorted and muffled. Perhaps it was. You had hit your head pretty hard on your last mission. How else could you explain what was happening here?

"Stand," Feyre ordered.

You did as you were told, even if you were biting the inside of your cheek.

"So responsive," Rhysand said, more to Feyre than you.

You frowned at that.

Feyre stepped closer to you, settling her hands on your hips. There was no room to twist away as her mate settled in behind you, the heat radiating off him seeping through your shirt. They even moved in perfect sync.

Nowhere to run now.

"You're going to play our favorite game with us."

Game? The reports hadn't said anything about them liking games.

"I don't understand-"

Rhysand cut you off, "Just follow our lead."

Feyre gave your hips a squeeze, "It's fun, trust me."

You didn't know what this had to do about proving you had made a mistake in taking this job, but you didn't know what other choice you had, so you just nodded.

They led you back into the throne room, the night's revelry still in full swing. Near the back, where the tables were still piled high with food, was Keir, the aging steward speaking conspiratorially with some of the other high ranking officials of the Court. Did he know already that you had failed? If he did, he didn't show it. He didn't so much as look up from his conversation.

Something hot twisted in your stomach at the sight of him. How could you have taken a job for a male like him?

Feyre pulled your thoughts away from him as she pulled you over to the dais, where their thrones sat empty. Even though Keir wasn't paying attention, others in the crowd were.

You swallowed thickly as Rhysand slid into his rightful seat, looking every bit the High Lord he was. Feyre didn't resume her seat in his lap, however, this time she perched on the arm rest, and guided you into her former place.

Your cheeks heated, mouth dry as the High Lord looped a strong arm around your waist and positioned you more comfortable on his lap, one long leg slotting between your own.

Feyre chucked at your obvious embarrassment. "Now now, you said you'd do anything." She said into your mind.

You dared a glance at her. This wasn't what you'd meant!

"This game is much more fun if you relax," Rhys purred as he dragged his nose over your throat looking for a place to sink his teeth.

You shivered despite yourself, the warmth of him seeping into you.

Feyre gripped your chin in her hand, forcing your gaze away from where it had wandered into the crowd. Keir still wasn't paying attention, but more and more people were halting their dancing and drinking to leer at this new pet their High Lord and Lady had brought back with them.

"Eyes on us."

Rhysand's hand slid over your hip and down to your thigh. The servant's garb you'd borrowed was a thin pair of pants, and a large, hooded sweater, not the sexy, revealing gown the High Lady donned, but you still couldn't help but feel incredibly vulnerable in this position.

How were you supposed to know what to do? How was this proving you could be trusted not to take another job from Keir? Was that fool even looking this way?

Rhysand nipped at the underside of your jaw and you jumped, thoughts careening away from Keir and whatever he was doing. The High Lord's breath was warm on your neck, each nip he left along your jaw sending shivers down your spine. It was an effort to keep your eyes open, to not immediately tilt your head back against his shoulder and let him explore every inch of you as you submitted fully to him. He could make you, if he wanted, it would be all too easy for him to reach inside your mind and move you however he wanted. You'd be a liar if you said the thought didn't excite you. The thought of handing yourself over to someone with that kind of power, testing to see what they'd do with it was more tempting than you'd ever dare say aloud. And maybe the High Lady had heard those thoughts, because a moment later, she was threading her hands through your hair and tilting your head back to let Rhysand explore further.

You whimpered softly as he ran his tongue over your pulse point and then Feyre was leaning in and nipping at the other side of your neck. It was too much at once, the overwhelming scent and warmth of them had you leaning fully into Rhysand's shoulder, eyes closing. One of their hands slid under your shirt, stroking at your side, you thought it might be Feyre, but didn't dare open your eyes to look, lest this really be a dream and you'd awake alone.

"Good girl," Rhysand praised. Somehow, even in your head his voice was low and husky. His hand slid further up your thigh, testing as he drew closer to your core. The move had you squirming and Feyre responded by dragging her hand from underneath your shirt to hold your hips down. There was no escaping either of them.

You still weren't sure how you ended up in this position, but you no longer cared. All you knew was this, them, and how much more of them you needed. Distantly you wondered if this was some daemati trick, if they had slipped into your mind and convinced you to do this. You decided you didn't care if they had, not as Feyre's lips were on yours, her tongue sliding past your teeth. There wasn't a hint of wine on her lips, despite all you'd seen her drink earlier. How she did that was anyone's guess.

Rhys drew circles on the inside of your thigh with his fingers, teasing you now as he continued to nip at your throat. There'd be marks in the morning, of that you were certain.

Feyre broke apart abruptly, laughing as you chased after her. "I think she likes this game of ours."

"Shall we play some more?"

You could play it all night if they wanted. There was something intoxicating about the two of them that had you desperate for any scrap of affection they could give you.

"Yes!" You said it faster than you intended, a blush creeping it's way back up your cheeks as you realized how pathetic it sounded, especially to two high fae. "Please."

Feyre leaned over you to kiss Rhys this time, intentionally pressing herself forward so her chest brushed up against you. You arched up to press your lips against her collar bones, too scared to go lower. She hummed approvingly into Rhy's mouth and he rewarded you by dragging his hand the rest of the way up your thigh, cupping your core through your pants. You were desperate for friction now, grinding your hips into his palm, even as your lips continued to work of Feyre's collarbones. She smelled so good! Her skin soft under your lips. You wanted the time to run your lips over the smattering of freckles she'd gotten while hunting in the summer time.

Rhys' free hand slid into your hair, pulling tight as he whispered in your ear, "No marks on your High Lady. Not without my permission, understand?"

If you were of any sound mind you might have been tempted to scrape your teeth across her throat, just to see what he would do, but you knew you weren't lucky enough to get away with it after everything that had happened already. "Yes, sir."

His dark laugh rumbled in his chest, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. This was a very dangerous game, far more dangerous than any assassination attempt had ever been. Dangerous, because, for once, you were enjoying it and enjoying anything in this line of work got you in trouble.

Feyre leaned back, out of your reach, and still held by Rhys' arm around your waist, it was impossible to reach out after her. Especially now that the High lord had decided he didn't like the article of clothing between his hand and you, and was reaching for the waistband of your pants.

The blush returned tenfold. This--touching, kissing, in front of all these people was one thing, but that?

The High Lady pouted as she looked at you, her eyes lust-blown, so dark you almost couldn't see the blue. "I think you have too much on."

Before you could contemplate what that meant, she snapped her fingers and your sweater disappeared entirely.

You tried to move to cover yourself, squirming now, and she grabbed your hands with a disapproving tut. "No hiding."

Rhys' hand had slid inside your waistband, so close again your hips rocked forward, searching for him without conscious thought, even as your face heated. There was a fine line between your pleasure and sheer mortification and somehow you were still teetering between the two, torn between wanting more and wanting to sink into the floor and disappear. The crowd was watching, or at least you were pretty sure they were, at this point you were too scared to look and kept your gaze glued to where the High Lord and Lady were touching you.

"So pretty," Feyre hummed as she moved your hands up and around Rhys' neck.

There was no hiding what they were doing to you now. You might have fought them harder if Rhys' hand wasn't finally where you wanted him so desperately, a finger sliding easily into you. Your jaw dropped, a strangled sound coming out of you.

"So wet," he teased, mind to mind. "All this for us, pet?"

Pet. Toy. The High Lord's little play thing. You'd been called worse.

"Yes, sir."

"So well trained, maybe we should keep her," Feyre said as she placed a gentle kiss on your nose.

"Where'd you learn this manners, hmm?" He nipped at your ear as he slid a second finger inside you.

Your eyes rolled back into your head at the stretch, at the way he curled his fingers, hitting all the right spots. Heat coiled in your gut and you found yourself instinctively tightening your hands into the silky strands of his hair.

"Certainly not Keir," Feyre said as she brought her hands to squeeze at your breasts.

You'd had your eyes closed, lost in the bliss of Rhys' ministrations, unprepared for the new sensation of her hands on you, you let out a moan louder than was appropriate for the situation.

"Guess I'm just good at this game," I quipped weakly. The two of them working together like this was becoming overwhelming, you could barely think past the point of contact of with their hands. There was only this and them and the heat coiling tighter and tighter in your stomach. Rhys' pace was quickening. Feyre was playing with the clasp at the center of your bra, toying with it like she was contemplating ripping it off you.

She might have, if someone hadn't cleared their throat at the base of the dais.

"What do you want Keir?" Rhys sneered, the true picture of princely boredom, as if he was not currently holding you at the cusp of an orgasm, as if his mate wasn't leaving hickey's on the exposed skin of your breasts as they spoke.

You'd thought, as you registered Keir's presence that this would be the end of it, that they would stop now that they had his attention, but Rhys was still curling his fingers inside you, stroking relentlessly as Feyre bit and sucked at your sensitive skin. You arched into her, biting down on a moan, this game be damned. Who cared about Keir? About the rest of the court? You needed them to keep touching and kissing you. This was all that mattered.

You were panting as Feyre giggled into your skin. "Doing so good for us."

"Please," you begged, grinding yourself down on Rhys palm. You were so close, just a little more.

"I hate to interrupt," Keir began.

"No you don't," said Feyre. "It's your favorite thing to do."

"But your little toy-"

"Brought us a gift for our anniversary?" Rhys finished for him.

"We know," Feyre added. "It was a really sloppy attempt at a gift."

Keir stammered, none of the words coming out right.

"She needs some training," Rhys said. "A little refining around the edges, but I think this will be a very profitable relationship."

"Just wish we knew who sent her our way," Feyre cooed.

Rhys' free hand hand came up to rest on your throat, just tight enough to make you lean your head back to look at him. The move sent heat straight to your core, your muscle tightening as you whimpered for him. "But we'll get it out of you eventually, won't we, pet?"

Keir was visibly shaking now.

"Mhmm," you whimpered.

"Come on now, where are those pretty little manners you had before?" Rhys teased, his hand suddenly stilling.

The loss of friction was too much, tears welling up in your eyes. "Yes, yes High Lord." You stammered.

His grin was feline as he started moving again, faster this time. Feyre slid behind your mental shield again, this time opening up a door in her own mind to show you what you looked like through her eyes, your pupils blown, your cheeks flushed, lips kiss swollen and red. They'd left little red marks all along your throat and chest. Then she blasted you with an image of what she still wanted you to look like, images of her between your legs, of you taking Rhys in your mouth. You tightened around Rhys' fingers.

"And you would take the word of some-" whatever word he was about to throw at you was suddenly cut off as Rhys removed his ability to speak.

"Careful how you speak, Keir."

The steward's mouth opened and closed as he tried in vain to defend himself.

Rhys waved a hand, "You clearly have nothing useful to say here, you can go." Keir spun like a top, mouth still flapping open and closed like a fish, limbs splayed awkwardly, clearly not in control of his body, until Rhys made him walk half way to the door. Once he'd been released from the High Lord's grip, he stumbled and all but ran for the door.

"Why...?" The rest of the thought eddied from your mind as Rhys curled his fingers, hitting a spot inside you that made stars dance across your vision, your orgasm barreling through you so fast you're sure you screamed their names, but didn't have the presence of mind to hear it for yourself.

"We could kill him now," Feyre said as you slumped back against Rhys' shoulder. "But what fun is that? Why show him the mercy of a quick death when we can have him looking over his shoulder every five minutes, contemplating how to beat us in this wicked little game of ours?"

"I think," Rhys cooed as he placed a gentle kiss on your temple. "That it would be much more fun to eventually turn you on him instead."

You huffed a laugh at that.

Rhys carefully removed his fingers from your core and attempted to bring them to his mouth for a taste, but Feyre beat him to it, sliding his long fingers directly into her mouth, holding eye contact with you the entire time.

You clenched your legs together, wincing at the bit of soreness you felt there.

"Besides," Rhys purred in your ear, right before he shifted you around, settling you chest to chest in his lap. "This game is just getting started, isn't that right, pet?"

[potatoplace]

Omega Needs - Chapter 7

Feylin, eventual Feysand

chapter 6 | chapter 8 | series masterlist

Story Summary: Feyre presented as an omega after being changed into a high fae Under the Mountain. Her heats have been hellish, and Tamlin has neglected certain aspects of her presentation. After the disastrous wedding ceremony, how will Feyre’s omega handle being away from her Alpha?

Warnings: A/B/O Dynamics, light smut, not proofread

Words: ~5.4k

Author's Note: here it is!! I am so damn excited for this chapter, it is probably my favorite in this series so far. Poor sweet Feyre, so ruled by her omega... also I miight have had 'guilty as sin?' Playing on repeat for the last 2k words hehe 🤭 I hope you guys all enjoy this chapter!!

18+ only pls

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

The sun was shining brightly when a noise pulled Feyre from her dreams.

“Feyre?” It was Mor. “Feyre, wake up, we brought breakfast.” There were footsteps and the sound of someone rustling through her wardrobe, then something soft hit Feyre in the face.

Feyre bolted upright, eyes wide as she stared at the Alpha- her citrus and cinnamon scent was overwhelming and delicious, so much so that Feyre was tempted to drag her straight into her nest.

“We?”

“Yes,” Mor smiled. “Rhys is waiting outside, he wanted me to check and ensure that you’re decent and comfortable with him coming in here. So, are you?”

Feyre put on the dressing gown that Mor had thrown on her, coincidentally it matched her nightgown and long socks, then loudly stated “Yes, you can come in Rhys.”

Rhysand entered the room with a smile, a tray overloaded with food in his arms. He set it down on the table, then began scooting it over to the edge of Feyre’s nest and moved the two chairs as well.

His scent flooded Feyre’s nose, the salt water and citrus scent was so refreshing, and Feyre nearly dragged him into her nest, the urge even stronger than when she had scented Mor. Feyre had already scooted towards the edge of the bed closest to the alpha without even realizing it, and stopped once it registered in her brain.

Feyre. Get a hold of yourself, she mentally scolded, and tried her best to breathe in the smell of the food rather than the two wonderfully scented alphas seated in front of her.

Mor took a seat and began dishing out food for herself while Rhysand plated everything for himself and Feyre. There were scrambled eggs with diced potatoes, onions, peppers and small slices of sausage, pieces of toast accompanied by pots of jam, and bowl filled with chunks melons and orange slices.

Rhysand stood at the outside edge of Feyre’s nest, plate in hand, but didn’t move to pass it to her, instead asking “Is it alright if I hand it to you, Feyre?”

Again with the level of politeness and care towards her nest that she had never been given back home. “Yes, that’s fine Rhys.” He handed her the plate, then a napkin and fork before sitting down. “Thank you, Rhys.”

“You’re welcome, Feyre darling,” He said with his soft smile, the one that Feyre though made his face most beautiful. Though she would never tell him that, it would inflate his ego far too much.

“We can skip training today, if you’d like.” The offer came are a few comfortable minutes of silence while they ate.

“Why would I skip training?” Feyre asked. She feels fine, though she would protest if she had to leave her nest at all.

“I just thought I would offer, is all. And practicing in here is no issue, either.”

Feyre bobbed her head, happy to have that confirmed again.

“So Feyre, was there anything you thought of during the night that was missing?” Mor asked, her eyes tracking Feyre’s movements, every lift of her fork to her mouth and its descent back to her plate. Feyre looked around at her nest, she hadn’t even thought to wonder if she was missing something, it had felt so instantly perfect.

“No, I think… I think it’s perfect the way it is,” she said softly, a hand gripping the fine silks beneath her. “This is the first time I’ve gotten to choose everything to build my nest,” Feyre admitted, turning her eyes back to the alphas, who were staring at her with shock in their eyes and mouth agape. “What?” Her voice held panic, worried that her nest had offended them, that it wasn’t perfect in their eyes.

“No, it’s nothing Feyre, that you’ve done. It’s just…” Mor started.

“Most omegas, especially the Lady of a court, are given and abundance of fabrics to choose from for their nests. Omegas are rare, and their nesting process is sacred,” Rhysand explained. “If an omega does not feel fully comfortable in her nest, it is unlikely their heat will be fully satisfied even after it ends, and it makes the probability of conceiving even lower than it already is. It’s just… it was odd, to hear that you have not been given this opportunity before.” His voice was gentle, full of his alpha tone to keep Feyre calm as she heard and processed the information.

“I… I didn’t know,” Feyre whispered, tears filling her eyes. She pushed her half eaten plate of food off of her lap and onto the bed, then grabbed a pillow, soft and fluffy, and buried her face in it.

“Hey, Feyre, it’s alright,” Mor soothed. She whispered something in a harsh tone before she spoke to Feyre once more. “I’m sure it’s just because the Spring Court was decimated over the past fifty years, there might be a shortage of the fabrics right now, sweetie.”

Feyre was still leaking tears onto the pillow, her breathing uneven.

“Feyre, it’s okay. You have a perfect nest right here, right now. We can even send you home with all of the fabrics if you’d like, that way you can have your perfect nest at home,” Rhysand offered, his voice so soothing and alpha and the thought of having her nest like this all the time was perfect.

Feyre leapt out of her bed and into his lap, tears staining his shirt as she curled up in his arms and sobbed. She breathed in his scent, unconsciously tilting her nose towards the scent gland in his neck. One of his hands started running through her hair and down her back, the gesture so comforting that Feyre sobbed harder.

Why wasn’t Tamlin like this with her? Why couldn’t he comfort her and teach her what she needed to know about her new biological needs?

Rhysand gave her a few minutes to calm down, his scent and touch quieting the outrage of the omega in her chest. She sniffled a few times before finally turning her face away from his chest, peering up at the alpha holding her.

“Sweet omega.” Her heart skipped a beat at his low voice, and her hand tightened its grip on his shirt. “You need to finish your breakfast, darling. Then we can do some magic training f you still feel up to it.”

Feyre bit her lip. She was embarrassed, yes, that she had crawled into Rhysand’s lap and cried like a child, but she hadn’t felt so safe and taken care of as she did now in such a long time. She didn’t move, hand still clutching Rhysand’s black silk shirt, right above his heart. She couldn’t move, if she was being honest. Her omega instincts had her rooted her, kept in the warm embrace of the alpha who had shown so much care to her over the past four days.

A very, very quiet purr left Feyre’s chest.

That had her bolting out of his arms and back to her spot on the bed, eagerly finishing off the rest of her breakfast as Mor and Rhysand shared a look that she missed.

“Well, Feyre, if there is anything that you think of that you would like for your nest here, or even duplicates of everything for you to take back to Spring, just let me know,” Mor proposed as she stood from the table. “And would it be alright for me to pick out things that I think you would like, if I happen across them while doing my own shopping?” Mor asked, a hopeful gleam in her eyes.

Feyre nodded her head- having someone pick out things that they think would fit Feyre’s taste would be nice. “I would love that, Mor. Just don’t go too overboard,” Feyre warned with humor in her voice.

“Oh, I won’t Feyre. They will be things that scream your name rather than just remind me of you. And it helps that I know what you like, since we went shopping together already.” Mor was over by her bedroom door now, hand on the doorknob.

Feyre gave her a warm smile. “That is true, you know what colors I like and the fabrics I can’t stand.”

“Yes I do, Feyre. I’ll see the both of you later for dinner.”

And then Feyre was alone with Rhysand.

She finished off the rest of her food, and Rhysand made the dishes disappear once she was.

“Do you feel up for training still, Feyre?”

“Yes, I should be able to manage,” Feyre confirmed, already building up the shields in her mind.

“Alright, we will only be doing magic training today, I would like to save shielding for our next week, though I expect you to still practice on your own, is that clear?” Feyre nodded. “Good. Next month we will begin working on having your shielding stamina raised, so that you can eventually have them active at all times. That means that I will be attempting to break into your mind, as gently as I can, at random points throughout the day to make sure you’re keeping them active.”

“Okay, so over the next month I should attempt to keep them active at all times?”

“Yes, that would be perfect, Feyre.” He flashed her a smile, and Feyre couldn’t help but give him one in return.

Something was definitely off with her, today. Though it was her first time nesting in a place other than Spring, and she had learned some… uncomfortable truths about the world that had not yet been shared with her by her actual family. Feyre would just chalk it up to the nesting.

“For today, we will continue with your magical training, and the stretching of your core. When you’re ready, Feyre.”

Feyre closed her eyes and concentrated on that cold mass of power in her chest. It was already more active than it was the day before, it seemed to Feyre that the training was waking it up gradually.

She stretched it as far as it would allow, through the joints of her shoulders this time. When it snapped back, she attempted to hold it, and managed to keep it slightly expanded with some effort.

Her breathing was hard when she opened her eyes, locking them with Rhysand’s. Her lips broke into a grin, even as she was struggling to keep the power in place. “I’ve got it expanded slightly!” She exclaimed, proud of her efforts.

“That’s wonderful, Feyre, try to let it go slowly, rather than snapping back to its original form. Adding that into your training regime will help you gain more control over your magic and make it more reliable in tough situations.”

Feyre did as he said, letting her power relax slowly back into its original shape and took a moment to catch her breath.

She was sweating already, her sleep clothes dampened with it, but she didn’t care.

Feyre was learning.

They spent the next three hours working on expanding Feyre’s core out to her fingertips and releasing it slowly, when Feyre hit a new milestone.

Her power was stretched so, so taut as it neared her fingertips. Feyre was hardly breathing as she concentrated so intensely on pushing it further, managing to coat her fingers in the viscous magic.

And then it happened.

A slight breeze swept through the room, rustling Feyre and Rhysand’s hair as it did so, and Feyre magic snapped back into her chest so quickly Feyre recoiled back into the bed, falling onto her back.

“Feyre, are you alright?!” Rhysand asked fretfully, standing at the edge of her nest and peering at her.

Feyre merely giggled and launched herself back up and into Rhysand’s arms. “Rhys! I did it! I used magic!” She exclaimed, hugging him tightly in her arms. His arms wrapped around her and squeezed her for a brief moment, before pulling away to look at her beaming face.

“You did, Feyre. You have done so perfectly, so wonderfully and I am so proud of you,” Rhysand gushed, and Feyre could feel it in her bones how sincere he was being.

“Thank you, Rhys.” It was then that Feyre remembered how unclothed she was, wrapped only in a dressing gown over her socks and nightgown, and she stepped away from him and back onto the fabric of her nest.

“You’ve earned it, Feyre. Now, I think we should call it a day, if you’d like I can go get us some lunch while you wash up?” He offered.

“I’d like that, thank you Rhys.” Rhysand left the room, leaving Feyre behind to bathe.

She reluctantly left the area of her nest, stripping off her clothes and tossing them into the laundry bin in her bathroom. She submerged herself into the bathing pool and looked out at the mountains in front of her. It was snowing today, a layer of white covering even the valley below, and Feyre couldn’t help but gaze at it in awe.

She hadn’t realized how much she had missed snowfall over the past year. While it had signified death to her as a human, now it was just a beautiful feature of the weather, something that quieted the land around her. Everything seemed more peaceful with the snow falling.

Feyre sighed, longing to capture the landscape on a canvas. Instead, she washed her hair and body quickly, not wanting Rhysand to return while she was still naked in the bath. She got out and wrapped her hair in one towel and her body in another and went to her wardrobe. Feyre dressed in a pair of black leggings and a knit sweater again, this time the sweater in a dark purple that was nearly black. She had slipped on a pair of socks right as a knock came on her door, and Feyre padded over to it.

She opened the door, revealing Rhysand carrying a tray holding two grilled sandwiches and two small bowls of salad. “Come in,” Feyre said, opening the door for him.

He placed the tray on the table once more, and handed one of the plates and bowls to Feyre after she had settled down in her nest. The sandwich had chicken, tomato slices, cheese, and some type of green sauce, which initially threw Feyre off until she smelled the sandwich, the basil and garlic scent was divine.

They ate in silence, Feyre too tired to make conversation and Rhysand lost in thought.

“What are you thinking about?” Feyre questioned after a few minutes of Rhysand’s face being slightly scrunched up.

His eyes met hers, intense violet crashing against stormy blue. “I am wondering why you have been kept in the dark on omega and alpha customs. Nothing against you, of course, I’m just… curious as to why.”

Feyre sighed. “I am… wondering that as well. It seems as though every day here I learn something new that I feel I should have known a year ago.”

“No matter the reason or timing, I am glad that you are able to learn now, Feyre. It is… a very important change in your life, and you deserve to have all of the information you can.”

“Thank you, Rhys.” Feyre gave him a soft smile.

“Well, now that we’re done eating, I’ve got to be off,” Rhysand said as he stood up, vanishing the dishes. “I have a few meetings to attend, but I should be back in time for dinner, Feyre. Are you still wanting to take your meals in here?”

“Yes,” Feyre confirmed. “I don’t think I could be comfortable out of my room, tonight…”

“That is no problem, Feyre. I will see you in a few hours.”

He walked to the door, opening it before Feyre voice made him pause.

“Thank you, Rhys. For everything.”

He looked back at her and flashed her a brilliant grin. “You’re welcome, Feyre darling.” He shut the door behind him, leaving Feyre alone in her bedroom.

Already, she was missing the comforting scent of an alpha filling her senses. Feyre grabbed the romance novel she has been reading from the nightstand and curled in her body pillow. She tugged the blankets up around her body, getting as comfortable as she could before she began to read.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

Feyre had nearly finished the book by the time Mor and Rhysand arrived at her bedroom door again, and it swung open to reveal the two gorgeous alphas on the other side, scents flooding Feyre’s vicinity along with whatever delicious food they had brought with them.

The food was placed on the table, a bowl of… something placed in Feyre’s hands by Rhysand after he got permission to hand it to her. He also give her a small bowl of crackers.

The food in the bowl was made of minced beef, beans, and onions and was very thick, thicker than a stew. Rhysand and Mor were already crushing crackers over their bowls, and Feyre followed suit.

When she took the first bite, she was blown away by the flavor and how comforting the dish was, the extra taste of the crackers only adding to it.

Rhysand and Mor were talking to each other, but Feyre could hardly pay attention to the words they were saying. Between their overwhelming scents and the delicious food, her thoughts were muddled and it was all she could do to keep quietly eating her dinner.

When Feyre finally came to the present again, Mor was already gone, and Rhysand was vanishing their dishes away, Feyre’s included as she had finished her food minutes ago without realizing.

“Are you doing alright, Feyre?” He asked sweetly, and Feyre looked up at him. She nodded without thinking, not having heard anything but her name. “Alright, if you’re sure. I’m going to head to bed, I suggest you do the same, Feyre. You worked hard today.”

Feyre’s cheeks heated at the praise and she bit her lip while staring at him, mind blank. He moved to the door, and Feyre tracked his path.

“Go to sleep, omega,” he commanded in his alpha tone as he shut the door behind him, taking his scent with him.

A whine built in Feyre’s throat, but she suppressed it before it could escape her. The command hung heavy in her mind, and she quickly went to the wardrobe to change into sleepwear. A nightgown similar to the pink one she had worn a few nights ago caught her eye, this time in a rich amethyst. Feyre plucked it off its hanger and slid it onto her body, loving the way the fabric slipped down her like water. The flowing skirt of the nightgown called to Feyre, and she did a few small spins to see the way it moved around her, fascinated by it.

But the command pressed into her bones, her omega calling her to her nest. She slunk over to it, crawling between the many blankets and swaths of fabric covering bed. Feyre pulled the violet body pillow into her body, pinning it between her legs and clutching it in her arms. Her hips rocked gently against the pillow before she finally settled, letting out a deep breath and allowing sleep to claim her.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

The heat was unbearable, so much so that Feyre woke in the middle of the night, legs still clenched around the pillow and hips rocking against it, searching for friction. Without thinking, a hand slipped down to her clothed cunt, pressing against it in an attempt to ease the ache that was building.

A whine left her lips, desperate and wanting.

Her nest was missing something.

Feyre dragged herself out of her nest, into the hallway. A smell caught in her nose, musky and perfect and alpha.

Alpha. That’s what I need.

Feyre began following the scent, pausing her journey only when cramps overtook her ability to walk. She let out another whine, she needs her alpha now.

The scent grew thicker with each step she took, until she reached a door. Her alpha must be in there.

Feyre turned the doorknob, stumbling into the room and falling to her knees as the delicious scent of her alpha overtook her. She sucked in a few deep breaths before standing again.

Bed. Need to get to the bed.

Feyre clumsily made her way to the large bed covered in black sheets and an alpha between them, shaking like a newborn fawn as another cramp rips through her abdomen. She makes it, lifting the sheet and slipping underneath.

His scent is so strong here, and she pressed herself against his chest as close as she could be. The cramps slowly come to a stop as she breathes in greedy lungfuls of his citrus and salt scent straight from his scent gland, her nose brushing against it.

Her alpha stirs when she scrapes her teeth against his neck, taking in a sharp breath.

“Feyre?” Her name rumbled through his chest so perfectly that Feyre started to purr, only nuzzling further into his neck. “Omega, what are you doing in here?”

Feyre moans at her title coming from his lips, the sweetest it had ever sounded in her ears. “Alpha,” she whined into his skin.

Her alpha attempted to pull away from her, so Feyre latched onto him, a leg swinging over his own and arms wrapping as far as she could around his chest. He loosed a sigh, and Feyre stopped purring.

Have I upset alpha?

“No, omega, you’ve done nothing wrong. Just… you should not be in here…”

Tears pricked at her eyes, and a whine dragged itself out of her lungs, prompting her alpha’s arms to wrap around her and pull her in, which instantly quieted her and put a smile on her face. “Alpha,” Feyre sighed, relaxing into his strong arms holding her.

“Alright, omega, you can stay in here until morning. But after that I need to take you back home, alright?” Feyre whined again, stopping once her alpha’s hand stroked along her scalp and down her spine. “Shh, pretty omega. Be a good little omega and go to sleep, okay?” Her alpha commanded gently, and Feyre was helpless against his words, immediately sinking back into the honeyed dreamscape she had awoken from.

🩵💚🩵💜🩵

The sun had barely risen when Feyre woke again, the cramping in her abdomen and heat blazing through her to painful to sleep through. Her alpha was behind her, her back pressed tightly to his chest and his arms caging her in, making it impossible to move anything but her lower half.

She lowered her nose to his hands, breathing in deeply to scent him as best as she could in this position. Instantly, slick gushed out of her, wetting her nightgown even further than it had in the night.

Feyre wiggled her hips, searching for any kind of friction when she felt it- pressed against her rear was her alpha’s cock, hard and already slightly swollen at the base, a promising feeling to Feyre as her cunt clenched, wanting nothing more than to have it inside of her, filling her up with his seed and locking them together with his knot.

She pressed harder against him, angling her hips so that her pussy lips were aligned with his length, moaning loudly when she got the perfect amount of friction to lessen the heat flooding her veins.

Her alpha’s breathing quickened and arms tightened around her for a moment.

“Feyre?” His sleepy voice asked. “What are you-?” He paused, taking a deep breath in to scent her even as Feyre’s hips kept moving against his, she was nearly there-

“Fuck, Feyre, I need to get you home.” Her alpha disentangled himself from her, and she cried out at the lack of contact, heat instantly building inside of her again as she moved her hand down to the apex of her thighs.

Tears were streaming down her face as her pleasure sputtered out, even with her hand moving as quickly as she could manage. “Alpha please,” she cried.

Her alpha returned, pulling her into his arms and she sighed, burying her face in his neck.

“What happened?” Came a female alpha’s voice.

“She went into heat and snuck into my room, I thought she would be fine for a few hours so I could take her back at a reasonable hour, but-”

“But you were wrong, Rhys. There’s a reason her heat came on faster than normal, you know that, so why did you take the chance?!” The other alpha asked angrily. “What would you have done if you lost control, if you had claimed her right now?”

A growl ripped through her Alpha’s chest, and Feyre groaned against his throat. “I didn’t, Mor. Now are you coming with me or not?”

“Fine.”

Feyre kissed and licked at her alpha’s neck as they slipped through the fabric of the world, Feyre hardly noticing the sensation as her mind wrapped around the taste of her alpha. “Perfect,” she breathed against his skin.

“Fuck, what did you do to her?” Came a third alpha’s voice, uneven as he ran up to them.

“Nothing, Lucien. Feyre went in to heat in the middle of the night,” her alpha explained. He tried to loosen his grip on Feyre’s body, but she clung harder to him, lips latching onto his throat as she sucked on it, wanting to leave a mark-

Mark.

Feyre bared her throat to her Alpha, whining to get his attention while he argued with the new alpha.

“Fuck, give her to me.” Her alpha’s arms loosened, and someone’s hands pried hers apart.

“No!” Feyre yelled, attempting to lace her arms around his neck again, even as her body was being passed into the third alpha’s arms. “Alpha please,” Feyre wailed, tears falling freely as she lost her grip on him.

“Feyre, it’s going to be fine, Tam will be here in a moment,” the alpha who grabbed her said, attempting to soothe her, but it only made her more incoherent.

“Alpha,” she cried again, eyes opening to search for him- but he and the female alpha were gone. She sobbed harder, writhing in the alpha’s arms.

“What the fuck happened, Lucien?!” A booming voice yelled, and Feyre cowered into the male’s arms, hiding her face in his neck.

“I don’t know, they said she went into heat during the night, but that’s all I know.”

Feyre was passed to another set of arms, and she curled into them. But it wasn’t right- they didn’t feel solid enough, the scent was all wrong- earthy lilac and cedar, not the perfect soothing blend of salt and citrus that she needed. Feyre bawled harder, turning her face away from the alpha’s chest.

“Why is she crying so much?” The voice was too loud, too angry against Feyre’s ears and she pushed against the chest of the person holding her.

“I…I’m not sure, she’s been crying ever since she was handed over to me.”

“Mother above, she fucking reeks.” A female alpha, different than the one before. This one’s voice grated against her ears, sending more tears cascading down her face. “We need to question her, while the memories are fresh.”

“Are you serious, Ianthe? She is in the middle of her heat, she is in no state to-”

“While the memories are fresh.” The alpha carrying her took off quickly, and in a minute Feyre was being dumped into a hard wooden chair. “Feyre.” She turned her head into her hair, sobbing harder with the loss of contact as her heat built further, becoming even more unbearable than it had been in the wrong alpha’s arms.

“Omega.” The commanding tone had her peeking up, meeting green eyes with her watery blue. “Tell us the layout of where you were staying, and any information that you learned. Now,” he commanded.

Feyre merely cried more, fat arms rolling down her cheeks and onto her neck, wetting the amethyst of her nightgown further.

“She is obviously not going to be able to tell us anything useful in this state, Tamlin.”

“Shut up, Lucien,” he snarled. “If you tell me, as soon as you’re finished I’ll take you upstairs and give you my knot, alright omega?”

The promise of a knot had Feyre wracking her brain for answers, anything to get the relief that she needs, even if it isn’t from the right alpha.

“I… what?”

He repeated the question, slowly, as if she were a child.

She did her best to give him the layout, her mind hazy with arousal and pain as she struggled to summon anything of use.

“That’s really all you have to give us?” The female asked in a condescending tone. “You spent a week there and all you can give us is a vague layout? Fucking useless,” she scoffed, walking away and slamming her door behind her.

The green eyes alpha made to follow her before Feyre cried out a soft “Alpha.” He looked back at, then snarled.

“You smell horrid, omega. Take a bath, I might give you my knot then.” He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him so roughly that one of the hinges broke.

Feyre sobbed, collapsing into the table in front of her.

“Sweet omega.” The one alpha left in the room approached her slowly. “Can I pick you up?” Feyre cried harder but nodded, allowing the alpha to secure her in his arms and take her away from the room.

A few minutes later he set her down on something squishy, and she collapsed back into it.

“Omega, you should take a bath and change, I’ll send your alpha in in a little bit, okay?” The alpha suggested gently, wiping hair out of Feyre’s face. “I’ll make sure you have some time to make your nest, okay?” Feyre nodded her head, not quite sure she had understood him, but she got she got the main gist of it.

Bathe. Change. Nest. Alpha.

The alpha left the room, and Feyre was alone. She dragged her tired body off of her bed and into her bathing room, turning on the tap to fill the bath with cold water. She took off her nightgown, scenting it before she tossed it into the laundry bin.

Alpha. Feyre moaned. Her alpha’s scent was still all over it, and Feyre pressed the dress to her nose, quickly working her clit as slick spilled from her center. She came with a loud moan, the scent of her alpha ingrained in her mind.

Feyre hid the dress in one of the counter drawers, wanting to keep the scent of her alpha around as long as possible.

She slipped into the tub, her orgasm and the cold water soothing the heat bubbling within her down to a low simmer. Feyre lasted only a few minutes in the water before she was pulling herself out, the water heated too much for her to bear any longer.

She dragged herself into her bedroom and grabbed the thinnest nightgown she could find before dragging herself into her bed. Feyre tried arranging the nest to her liking, she truly did, but nothing compared to the perfect nest she had already made.

This one was… horrible. Absolutely horrible. None of the lovely pinks and blue and purples, but dull greens and cream colored linens.

Feyre burst into tears just as her bedroom door opened.

“Oh, now, now, omega. I brought you tea just like you like, Tamlin is busy with some things that are more important than you, I’m afraid,” the fable alpha said as she made her way into Feyre’s bedroom, sitting down in her nest and placing the tray of tea on it as well.

Something in Feyre protested, a growl building in her throat.

“None of that, you foolish omega. Drink your tea, Tamlin will be up to see you whenever he is able to manage.” The alpha shoved a teacup into Feyre’s hands. “Drink,” she commanded.

Feyre had no choice but to obey, drinking down the scalding liquid that burned her insides as it went down.

“I’ll check up on you in a few hours, but don’t even think of leaving your room. You won’t get far in this pitiful state anyway,” the alpha tacked on, a vicious grin on her face as she glared down at Feyre. She took the tray and breezed out of Feyre’s room, slamming the door shut behind her.

Bone deep exhaustion hit Feyre, and in a few moments she was deep in sleep.

Series taglist: @icey--stars

[fieldofdaisiies]

Feysand | Let Them Look

type: smutty drabble warning(s): puplic sex, fingering, minors DNI word count: 1,3k words summary: Rhysand has a fantasy that Feyre helps him become reality

-all rights reserved-

A cool breeze dances over her legs, leaving tingles in its wake. She sits atop her mate's lap, the hard ridge of his erection pressing so blissfully into her rear as she leans back, relishing his warmth, his infatuating scent, how his solid, warm chest feels against her back. 

Rhys' voices is like a purr, when he leans in, his damp lips brushing over ear. "I can scent your arousal, darling. Am I getting you so worked up." He kisses the spot below her ear, a short but nevertheless searing kiss, as his broad hand slides over her lower belly, bringing her closer. He helps her hips move back and forth, a little game they have been playing for a few minutes now. Feyre is riding his thigh, her core rubbing against the hard muscles of his thigh with every push and pull Rhys gives her hips. 

Through the bond, Rhys knows that his mate's desire, her lust, is just as acute as his own and he knows that they can go a step further now. "Should we give them a little show?" 

Feyre shudders, her mind running wild at what her mate is insinuating. "Right now?" she asks, her voice nothing but a breathy whispers. Turning her head a little, her cheek brushes against Rhysand's mouth and she can feel the vibrations of his chuckle on her skin. "Yes, right now." He grins as he spreads his fingers, letting the tip of his small finger slide under the thin fabric of her skirt. 

"I know the thought arouses you, darling, of all the people watching us. I can look in your mind, remember?" 

He hums, exhaling a little and his hot breath fans the back of Feyre's neck. "Let them watch while I make you feel good."

His power stretches out a little when Rhysand adjusts Feyre on his lap, spreading her legs wider open, giving him better access to her throbbing core. 

Some of the people among the ones crowded in the throne room in the Hewn City are oblivious to the starting shenanigans of their High Lord and Lady, commencing with their casual chatters as if nothing has changed in the room. But there are others that are looking, watching with an intense gaze as the High Lord spreads his mate's legs, baring her for the whole of the people present. Everyone can see, everyone can watch, what they are doing. Rhysand knows this, can hear and read their filthy thoughts, their jealousy weighing heavily in the air. And the cocky bastard he is from time to time, Rhysand enjoys this to the fullest. Making his people go crazy with jealousy and need.

His hand slides fully beneath Feyre's skirt, until the tips of his fingers are met with the dampness already gathered there. He groans into his mate's neck, loving how she melts in his touch, how her body shudders and goosebumps break out all over her skin. 

"So wet for me, darling," he purrs and his damp lips coast over Feyre's neck in a searing kiss. His other hand slides up her front, cupping her breast in his broad palm, rubbing her gently until he tugs the thin fabric to the side. Rhysand toys with the hardened nipple of her right breast, rubbing it between his thumb and index finger, loving how Feyre arches into him, a low and breathy moan parting her lips. 

"Doesn't that make us look—Fuck!" Feyre throws her head back as Rhys parts her with his long fingers, dragging them through her slickness. "Doesn't that what?" he hums against her neck, his tone almost gleeful. 

"Unserious…" Feyre pants, her eyes closing and her jaw clenched. The High Lord dips is middle finger into her, pulling out so he can add a second on, his palm pressing against her clit, adding just a little bit of pressure to double her pleasure. He clicks his tongue, his lips on her ear as his fingers for a V, stretching her a little. 

"Unserious?" Rhys repeats and then chuckles. "Darling, why would you think so?"

Feyre does not know, thinking has become an sheer impossibility and she can't form any coherent thoughts, nor sentences to answer her mate. She only sighs, relaxing against him as she slowly starts to ride his fingers. 

"I don't care what they think. I only want them to know how good I can make my mate feel. How pretty she looks when she comes. How much she loves when I fuck her." The High Lord grins behind his mate, a mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes as he leans back in his throne, enjoying ever small moment of this public display. 

Him and Feyre have started talking about fantasies; and this particular desire of his, once only possible in his imagination, now becomes reality. It is truly happening, and Rhys can't even put into words how much he loves his mate for it. Feyre is perfect, stunning and the best thing that could have ever happened to him. And when he does not show her with words, he does so with his body. Now with his fingers, working their magic deep inside of her. 

As she sits on his lap, legs spread wide open, her most private parts on full display for everyone, she gives herself fully to her mate, going this step with him, allowing his fantasies to become reality. 

And Feyre, reserved about this idea at first, is enjoying herself to the fullest. This is reckless and wild, and she loves it. Desire starts to cloud her mind, her vision blurry with the heat in her body. The chatter around them is drowned out by the pleasure in her mind and body, making the High Lady of the Night Court only focus on her mate, on his fingers deep inside of her, touching her, rubbing her, his thumb now toying with her clit. His other hand still kneads her breast, bringing out the most pleasure possible. 

"When you come, my darling," Rhys rumbles low in his throat, sending shivers all over Feyre's body. Her eyes are closed now, head tipped back, resting against her mate's shoulder. She sighs when her mate slows the movement of his fingers, working her in long, languid strokes. "Only with my name on your lips."

He curls his fingers so he can brush against that one damnable spot inside of her that makes Feyre squirm, wreath and cry out in pleasure. She is rubbing herself against his growing erection and Rhysand knows, and also makes sure to tell his mate mind-to-mind, that this night is long not over and they will continue this once they are at home. 

The High Lord's hand slides further up on Feyre, moving to the base of her throat so he can curl his fingers around her throat. Rhys adds a bit of pressure as he squeezes, robbing her just as much air to not make it uncomfortable. "I want every person in this room to hear you scream my name. I want them to know who you belong to, how good their High Lord makes his mate feel." 

As he drives his fingers deeper into her, harder and faster, Feyre feels herself clenching around him, release nearing in waves. She rubs against him, rides his fingers, her vision too cloudy to make out if anyone is watching. And, in all honesty, she does not care. The pleasure is too much, satisfaction seeping into every fiber of her, as she gives herself fully to her mate and finally comes with her mate's name, rolling over her lips in a soft cry of pleasure. 

"Such a good girl, darling," Rhys purrs in his low rumble and black mist wraps around them, carrying them back home to their shared bedroom where a long night awaits them. 

~~~~~~~ tags: @girlinglass999 @autumndreaming7 @brekkershadowsinger @a-frog-with-a-laptop

[velarisnightsky444]

Punishment*

Kinktober Day 2: Impact Play with Feysand

A/N: I might struggle with this one. The randomizer chose Feysand for this one so wish me luck, yall. 18+

CW: Impact play, fingering, punishment, d/s dynamics

Summary: You are mated with Feyre and Rhysand. They have been away for a meeting recently.

Word Count: 546

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Your mates had been away on business for over a week. You had missed them so much that you had hardly left your room.

Rhys had been sending you images of him and Feyre making love every night.

The night before, you hadn't been able to help yourself. You'd slipped your fingers down and rubbed that bundle of nerves until you came.

"Touching yourself with permission, darling?" Rhys had said into your mind.

And now they were coming home, and you were waiting in the bed you all shared, knees pulled to your chest.

The door opened.

You glanced up, seeing the High Lord and Lady in the doorway, Rhys with a disapproving expression stretched across his features.

Feyre pouted when she saw you, she floated over and sat down at your side. She placed her hand on your cheek.

"Are you angry with me, Fey?" you whispered. She hummed and brushed her thumb across your lip.

"Is what Rhys told me true?" she challenged, raising an eyebrow. "Did you touch yourself without permission?"

You looked down at your lap, unable to lie to her. She tutted and shook her head at you.

Rhys approached, tilting your chin up so you had to meet his eyes. With a thought, your clothes were gone. You squealed, your hands covering your chest.

"Nothing we haven't seen before, darling," he teased. You glared at him.

The talons of his powers clawed at your mind. You opened your shields to him and he entered.

He took over your mind, forcing you to turn around for him and get down on all fours. You arched your back under his control, dropped to your forearms, and lifted your ass.

You tried to fight, but you couldn't move. He was inside your head, holding you in place.

"You'll take ten," he decided.

You nodded, knowing it could be much worse. Feyre heatedly slid two fingers inside you. You shuddered and let out a moan.

"Don't make any noise," she cooed, stroking your hair with her other hand.

You bit your lip to keep quiet as her fingers continued to move in and out of you. Rhys was on the other side of you.

You jerked, screaming as you felt the first smack land on your ass. Feyre gripped your hair and yanked your head back.

"Didn't I tell you to be quiet?" she reminded you. You tried to nod against her grip. "Good." She let go of your hair and you dropped your head.

The second strike landed and you whimpered. Feyre's pace, which she had set with her fingers, stopped. She delivered the third blow herself. You hid your face in the mattress to muffle your sounds.

The fourth slap was also delivered by Feyre, but after the fifth, she returned to sliding her fingers into your core.

The sixth strike was hard enough to bring tears to your eyes. The pain mixed with the pleasure Feyre gave confused and aroused you.

The last four made the tears actually fall. But you managed to hold back your sobs.

"You took it so well," Feyre praised with a smile.

Rhys' talons released your mind, and you sat up immediately, tears streaming down your face. Feyre wiped them away for you.

"We missed you, y/n," Rhys promised you. You glared at him, which made him smile sinfully.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Feysand Taglist:

General Taglist:

comment to be added to the taglists!

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

[danikamariewrites]

PLEASE PLEASE poly feysand while Rhys is gone and fem Y/n and Feyre are alone, and their super cuddly and loving with each other. Then they're making out and then they're having sex and Feyre and Y/n send Rhysand the mental images of them being together ajwkwkwkwkwow perhaps I'm ovulating and lusting for Feyre

Mornings Together (SMUT)

Feysand x reader

A/n: this is mostly Feyre x reader lol

Warnings: edging, fingering, and tribbing 18+ plz

You woke up to Feyre lightly playing with your hair and running her thumb across your cheek. As you blinked your eyes open and sweetly smile at your girlfriend. You stretch out your arms and wrap them around her waist, leaning your forehead to rest against hers.

“Good morning baby.” She whispers, leaving a small peck on your lips. You roll over onto your back, holding Feyre to your chest. “Morning. Did Rhys leave already?” Feyre let’s out a hum as she nods lazily.

You give her a small frown. “Aww you miss him already, baby?” You nod against the pillow. “But I still have you .” You wrap your arms around her neck, pulling her to your lips.

When your lips meet in a slow, sensual kiss heat immediately floods your core. Feyre moans into your mouth and gropes your breast, twisting your nipple through your thin nightgown.

Feyre pushes your night gown over your hips, revealing your bare pussy for her. She breaks the kiss leaning back on her knees. “Come on sweet girl, spread your legs for me.”

You let out a small whine and spread your legs for her. Feyre places her hands on your thighs. She squeezes the, and runs her hands up and down the inside of them just grazing over folds. “Fuck,” you breathe out.

She runs a finger through your wet folds and you bite your lip. “So wet. That all for me baby?” You nod vigorously. Feyre keeps collecting your arousal and starts rubbing her fingers against your clit. Just as soon as you were on the edge of release she pulled away.

A desperate groan leaves your lips as you sit up on your elbows. You look at her, a begging look in your eyes. All Feyre did was smirk as she pulled her lacy black nightgown off. “I showed Rhys how desperate our sweet girl was,” She brings her hand up to squeeze your cheeks.

“I thought we could show him what he’s missing.” You smirk back to her, hoping she was showing Rhys. Feyre pushed you back down on the bed taking your hands in hers. She throws her leg around your hip lowering her pussy on yours.

You start bucking your hips begging her to move. “Please Feyre, please please,” you moan. “Aww what a sweet girl saying please.” Before you can beg again Feyre starts grinding against you.

You can’t take your eyes off her gorgeous body. Her tits bouncing with each thrust of her hips. Her head tossed back and lips parted in a silent scream. “Gods, y/n you feel so good baby.” You both moan out at the same time. Both feeling Rhys caressing your mental shields.

A deep laugh echoes in your mind. “Look at my girls. Be good and come for me, both of you.” You grip Feyre’s hand tighter and tighter. Screams sound from both of you as you come together.

As Feyre drops her head against yours your breaths mix. You feel Rhys’s presence disappear as you come down. Tangling your fingers in Feyre’s hair you bring her lips to yours once more. “I love you,” you murmur against her lips.

“I love too baby.” Feyre sits up still straddling you. With a thought your nightgown is gone and that feline smirk is back on her lips. “You have another round in you?”

[temperedink]

high in the moonlight

Feysand, pure smut, no plot, one-shot, 3K.

For @sjmromanceweek 2024.

Basically if Moonlight by Kali Uchis + Partition by Beyonce had a sexy baby.

The High Lord and High Lady are due for a visit to the Court of Nightmares. They’re getting ready when they get…distracted by each other.

(Spoiler: They ain’t even gonna make it to this club.)

Read on AO3.

Thanks to @popjunkie42 and @bibliophiliaxvignette for brilliant betaing!

This is my first time writing Feysand, and they are my FAVE, so I hope I did them justice!