#feysand x reader | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

avifaunaa · 22 days ago

Text

stars blind [ they fall and leave the sky ] [ f.a.+ r ] [ pt.3 ]

Authors Note: fellas, welcome back to part three. I’m very, very pleased to hear that everyone loved this concept! Thank you for your patience.

Masterlist

PART ONE | PART TWO | PART FOUR

Pairing: Feyre Archeron x fem!reader x Rhysand / Platonic!Inner Circle x fem!reader

Summary: How much worse can your luck get? Turns out — not much. Rhysand and Feyre sit down for breakfast with Windweaver to understand who she is outside of Tamlin and the Spring Court. It’s going exceptionally well, and Astra and Nyx already show signs of becoming trouble. Only if they knew you were screaming internally.

Content Warnings: Canon in nature but MAJOR MAGICAL liberties taken SO AU FROM HERE! Mating Bonds, discussions of bondings, magic, and the works, Court Politics, an attempt at connections, overall somewhat plot heavy, soft, and just minor angst from BRIEF discussions of Windweaver’s past.

Word Count: ~4.7k

Nyx and Astra were big, big, fans of one another.

While you locked eyes with Rhysand and Feyre and damn near burst into flames, your children had done the same and had immediately screeched in excitement at seeing another of their size and warbled in more excitement.

Feyre had immediately told Rhysand to take over ordering to stride over to you while the chubby little babe swung his arms out toward you and your daughter, slobbering and squealing, eyes shining.

Astra had been emboldened by the reaction she was getting in turn for her newly fostered social openness — thanks to Iris — but you had remained frozen in place.

The High Lady’s face was kind; you had heard stories of such kindness that merited its own descriptor of the female and yet other stories of her prowess under Rhysand’s training was almost overshadowing such a memorable feat.

Her ears were as pointed as any other Fae’s who came naturally from Pyrthian but if she had any human-like features before her dunk into the Cauldron, they were gone — replaced by the predatory ones that your kind wore instead.

She was heart-shatteringly beautiful — but it was still not enough to tell you the entire truth to your cousin’s inability to protect his home and his family. Your father had placed blame many places — Tamlin, the human filth, Feyre Archeron and Rhysand for daring to play games much too dangerous — and now maybe you could come to understand him.

Had this female been all it took to destroy your home and your House?

Why couldn’t Tamlin had thought better of touching another male’s mate and just . . . Fixed their home? Did Feyre have so much hand in ensuring the Spring Court would never be as good as it once hailed itself to be?

You felt eyes studying you. At the same time you came to grasp your daughter as she made her attempt at escape, moving like slime down from your arms until you caught the crook of her knees and hauled her back up.

This only added to the endless giggling of the two babes, and even the High Lord had glanced back and was amused by the sight.

Feyre was smiling so . . . Openly, in a way that made it difficult to despise her as your House loyalty demanded, that you started to coil up with your daughter pressed close.

“Hi,” she greeted, her grip on Nyx seeming effortlessly gentle but firm even as she wrangled him into one arm to reach an intricately inked arm out for you.

You stared at it and when seconds passed by you wished a hole were available to crawl into. You did not know what she asked of you by offering this gesture — it was not a custom you were aware of and you opened your mouth, closed it.

“I—“

“Human gestures, darling,” Rhysand called over, waiting now over by the counter where Cassie usually sets finished orders. He had his hands deep in sleek pant pockets as he leaned against the surface, looking much too entertained by what he was seeing.

Then she closed her fist, face turning red when nothing seemed to come of her hand being held in the open like it was. “Oh my Gods, I forget.”

You didn’t engage, and you certainly didn’t feed into the little thought about how pretty she was when she was flustered.

“Humans shake hands when they greet,” she explained, embarrassed. “It’s been a habit for so long I’m still trying to shake it.”

“Oh.” You bit the inside of your cheek with a sharp canine, but no skin was punctured. “Oh, right. It’s okay. Sorry.”

“Sorry?” Feyre tilted her head at you in the way a cat does when it tries to watch something disappear into the underbrush. Then she paused and took you in, a flash in her eyes becoming so fresh and raw that it took you back. “Can you do me a favor, sweetheart?”

You jerked back physically — and it startled Astra, even, who had been content to make faces to match the ones Nyx was throwing her — and you sputtered out a noise that must have passed for ‘yes,’ because a pleased smile broke across freckled features. “Good girl. Unless you’ve actually done something to be deserving of it, I want you to work on not apologizing.”

You breathed out through your nostrils; you were both relieved and unsettled at the request she made of you. “That’s — that’s a very unbecoming thing to ask a stranger, isn’t it?”

You wouldn’t meet her eyes and both of you knew why, but perhaps she didn’t quite understand Fae courting in the proper way. Tamlin hadn’t courted her, not really, before he had bedded her from what rumors had stated. Rhysand whisked her off and there was no actual idea on how he courted her.

In the Spring Court, you were positive it differed entirely than in the Night — more rules and regulations from your home Court. But your father was not around to accept a courting request, and you were not inclined to write Tamlin, your closest male living relative, to request his permission.

Not only would you not get it, you would be ripped away from your freedom.

Rhysand suddenly seemed to appear next to Feyre, two drinks and three pastries in hand as though he had no issue in balancing.

“My Feyre is more becoming than I,” the High Lord began smoothly, smiling in a disarmingly charming way toward you as you swiftly moved around them toward the counter to order your drink and pastries to go.

“We just want to talk,” the female said when you turned your eyes away so you couldn’t be read. You could hear the plea, as put together as it was. “We can let Nyx and your daughter interact. He’s so excited to see other children.”

You closed your eyes, counted to ten, and in that ten seconds tried to think of five different reasons you should deny her without it sounding exceptionally rude and in front of Caspian.

Nyx screeches behind you.

You look down at Astra, who you realize is resting her chin on your shoulder and babbling backward in their direction rather than eagerly await the counter to greet Caspian.

You were in no place to be anyone’s mate — and you were in no place to be theirs, especially. You weren’t foolish enough to believe that they didn’t have an idea of who you were, neither.

You turned on your heel and saw Rhysand had wrapped an arm solidly around his mate’s waist, and a pang filled your chest.

“Astra and . . . Nyx you said? They can play,” you agreed, but did not release your daughter. “I want to get her fed, first.”

Relief and something similar to joy lit up on Rhysand’s features and mirrored Feyre’s as well, and you wondered how fate decided you fit into this puzzle of two when they were already so perfect.

You were in utter disbelief at the moment. You had ordered something — caffeinated, sweet, with a hint of spice — and had reluctantly joined Rhysand and Feyre at the corner table near the window.

Once settled Caspian had brought out a couple of blankets so that you could settle Nyx and Astra together near the window. They babbled endlessly to one another and seemed content to enjoy each other’s company.

You were gripping your mug so tightly that you felt the glass almost give way under your grip. Feyre and Rhysand glanced down at your hands and you instantly loosened, then released, your hold. Your hands were pink from the heat transferred to your skin.

Rhysand folded his arms together on the table, his violet eyes kind but otherwise unreadable. “We won’t insult your intelligence and act like we don’t know who exactly you are. We’ve been made aware of your presence here and — yes — we haven’t done a thing to prevent it.”

“I assumed,” you replied, glancing at your daughter and Nyx. “I stopped waiting to be arrested or thrown to the borders after a week. Mor and Amren’s appearances were constant though to keep reassuring me, too.”

“Yes, those two are very solid in their work,” the High Lord said, rotating a palm to hover over his warm drink. “We want to make it very clear in case you have any doubts — there are no plans to reveal your location to the Spring Court or Tamlin. You are safe here for as long as you stay.”

You swallowed a lump in your throat, the emotions hitting you all at once: relief, anxiety, uncertainty — but perhaps you could stop looking over your shoulder now and wondering when the next shoe would drop. “I want to add that I had no hand in anything my cousin did after . . . After the High Lady came into the lands. My presence in court was minimal when I got pregnant.”

Feyre did not move an inch when you shifted your gaze, but there was a tug in your chest that did not feel like your own heart being twisted.

“That is what our Spymaster has confirmed,” Rhysand answered, picking up his mug. “However there is still much we’re in the dark about.”

You could hear the request in his statement — less of a demand, an open door that could be avoided.

You did not enter. “My family is not going to be an issue, my father predominantly. I am the last of the Windweaver House, and it no longer holds station in the Spring Court.”

A finality and a line drawn deeply in the sand. You would reveal this much and nothing else in regards to this topic and you hoped they respected it. To keep from fidgeting, you lifted your mug and took a long sip.

Feyre spoke first, “We welcome the Windweavers warmly into the Court of Starlight then. We hope to create an established relationship and that you build roots here.”

“As do I,” you say, and this is truthful. Astra needed stability and peace. She was not granted such traits in the beginnings of her life and you would do everything in your power to make sure she grew up better than you did.

“Well,” Rhysand said lightly, drowned out by the screeching giggles of the babes, “now that the business is out of the way I do believe we should discuss much happier things.”

“Rhysand,” Feyre murmured, a warning edging her tone.

Rhysand moved one of his hands to intertwine with hers. The markings that inked their skin matched together like puzzle pieces in a design that no artist could ever hope to replicate.

Just another reason you shouldn’t get involved. You did not have the same engravings upon your skin, telling a story or making a promise.

Not in this life.

"Do you feel it?" Rhysand wondered, his gaze surprisingly soft as it turned toward you. "We do."

Your lips thinned as you brought the mug back up to your lips, needing to keep your hands busy so they would not see you tremble beneath those eyes.

"Lying would do me no good, would it?" you asked when you could no longer leave the question unanswered. You sit the mug down after the warm, sugary flavor had coated your tongue and throat but you kept hands on the object.

Feyre smiled almost apologetically. "He knew with me, too," she said, pink tinging her cheekbones. "This is improvement -- talking about it right away. He wasn't able to . . . when Amarantha . . ."

The sound of her name still sent a chill down your neck and you cleared your throat. "I get it -- I've heard . . . all the stories."

"All of them?" Rhysand parroted in fascination, eyes twinkling with feline-like mischief. "I'm sure not all the details are there."

"Will you shut up for three seconds?" Feyre snapped. The table rattled underneath the three of you and Rhysand winced, hand flying beneath the surface.

"Heavy-footed, that was, darling," he complained good-naturedly, free hand moving from Feyre's arm to casually grab at his drink again like he didn't just get kicked.

The female pointedly ignored him. She turned to you again with probing eyes, the freckles dusting her nose bunching together as she wrinkled it. "I'm sorry for him. He hasn't been out in a while and forgot his manners."

"Males hardly have them to begin with," you tell her hesitantly at an attempt at humor, and the smile she gives you is radiating.

"Oh, we will get along splendidly," she decides as Rhysand went ignored at her side despite his purposefully heavy eye-roll.

"To answer your . . . to answer your questions . . . I feel something and I have a mark," you admitted before the cowardly side of you could win out on this. "But I don't think it could work."

Feyre's face dropped; the sight sent a rush of regret through you like a tidal wave that they spoke about in the Summer Court. You swallowed. "You're already bonded," you continued quickly so they would not start with the hurt, "and formed a family. I do not think the ancient magic at work is really accurate like it used to be."

"What we have already is fine, yes," Rhysand agreed easily, as though ready for this argument, "but if you grew up studying our history then you're well aware that the magic -- while finnicky and often making bonds that aren't always perfect -- does not make decisions like we do. It does what it does based on what information it gathers from those who have it in their blood."

"You're . . . sort of proving my point." The confusion was palpable to the point that you did not bother trying to politely mask it. You did study the history of the fae, the Courts, the Wars . . . all of it went unsaid but made abundantly clear that magic was volatile and almost parasitic back when ‘Fae’ was just a term for all of them — back when there were no Lesser or Greater or High Lords.

Feyre appeared out of her element on this conversation, but she seemed interested anyways. She watched as Rhysand nodded. “But that very same magic still allows us our abilities, does it not?”

“That’s a theory.”

Rhysand’s smile was absolutely self-pleased . . . He had caught you in a trap. “Haven’t you been reading the studies that have been published since Amarantha about how stronger fae seem to be getting?”

“It’s mostly anecdotal,” you retorted immediately, narrowing your eyes. “They haven’t published anything wherein it’s a controlled study. A lot of these scholars jumped the fence after the Cauldron was used on Feyre. Most of those reviewed Fae were under the Mountain at the time, too, or nearby. You can’t count it.”

Rhysand rested his chin on his palm. You would compare him to a jungle cat you read about existing in the Summer Court, long and sleek with predatory eyes.

“But it’s been documented,” he told you.

“Most of our abilities may be connected to our ancestry and the old magic — and whatever those abilities were often suited those fae based on the threats of the lands and the environment they lived in before the Courts became a thing,” you finally, reluctantly, relented. “I don’t think that, now, suddenly the old magic is doing much for anything other than triggering bloodline mating by chance every few hundred years.”

“How does the Cauldron differ?” Feyre asked, hands folded on top of the table, nails digging into the opposite hand she clenched.

“The Cauldron is old, but it is a different work of magic than what formed this mating bond. Ours was fated, Feyre, because the Cauldron is in me and the Illyrians and the fae It created. Though Prythian came to form after its creation, an older, lively magic existed long before. Something the legends often lead out,” Rhysand explains.

“I was destined to you before I was Made,” Feyre said to Rhysand.

“The Cauldron is the past, the present, the future. Birth, life, and death. That is why it is a weapon of great power or a symbol of everlasting strength. It knew what would be even if it fought us. What we are, however, Darling, at our base core is something not even the Cauldron nor its users could ever tame.”

Feyre went silent, and you could feel she was overwhelmed just from the energy she expressed. It overwhelmed you, too, sometimes.

“In essence,” you tried to explain easily, “your bond with Rhysand was predetermined possibly for thousands of years. The bond I share with you both is from a time when we needed a less masterful magic to help us survive and reproduce. It’s been believed to be smarter than initially imagined — because sometimes mated pairs are perfect matches in every way.”

“And you don’t think you’re perfect for us?” Feyre asked quietly. “Or is it us that aren’t perfect enough for you?”

You can’t say you were expecting that line of questioning to be thrown at you. The look that must have been painted across your features was read closely by both Fae as you sat back in your chair, unsure of how to answer.

“I don’t know.”

It was the most honest thing you could give them right now despite what the bond sent through to you from them. You longed for them the more you sat with them here and talked to them and allowed the bond to strengthen and with proximity.

Feyre nodded a little while Rhysand watched you with those impenetrable eyes. You did not try to reach through and seek out his mindscape — not yet, if at all.

“Idea, then, darlings,” Rhysand mused aloud as people filtered in and out to get drinks and pastries. Most glanced over curiously, awed to see the High Lord and Lady out but did not approach.

Astra and Nyx were having their own intense conversation that you were not privy to interrupt due to your daughter’s serious expression as she waved Nyx’s loose hand, causing him to giggle rapidly.

“If Windweaver’s open,” Feyre said, glancing at you and offering you a small nod; a way out in hidden space and silent wording.

You were terrified, your heart was breaching your ribcage like a wild, trapped thing —

And you were so, so tired of being alone. You were true in telling them that you did not know what it was you could give them entirely, but the pull was starting to become painful the closer you sat and the more you attempted to pretend it wasn’t there.

So you ungrasped that tightly bound, throbbing flow of energy you kept close and waited, eyes following Feyre and Rhysand’s reaction before you could even get to Rhysand’s idea.

They knew immediately when you opened part of your bond to them, gave them a taste of yourself even if not all of it was available.

Feyre’s hand reached out and hovered mid-air, unspoken question hanging like a singular leaf on a branch.

You lifted your hand slowly and interlaced your fingers with her darkly inked ones, and the rush of warmth that encased you was nothing you’ve ever expected to feel.

You’ve felt the harsh colds, the bitter winters when you had fled the Spring Court with Astra. You didn’t realize how cold and shattered you had become of yourself until she took your hand and spread that healing warmth into your skin.

You met her eyes. Whatever she saw in yours was a mirror in herself, and you could feel her feather-light presence from the mating bond starting to become familiar with yours.

You broke free of the contact, but not before leaving a parting brush against her mental shields to reassure her it wasn’t out of malice. She gave you a rather small smile in return, squeezed your hand, and released it.

“That was a fancy display,” the Illyrian male crooned to the left of the female across you, a smug grin plastered across his face as his eyes glanced between the two of you. “And here I am being completely left out.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. “I forget that you can’t stand not being included in everything.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to stifle your laughter as the two of them bantered. Rhysand didn’t seem at all put off, truly, at whatever you and Feyre had just shared together but he certainly was having fun using it to grind against his wife for — likely — your amusement.

“You mentioned you had an idea,” you began bravely after finishing the last of your drink.

Rhysand tapped his fingers against his jawline, a faux thoughtful expression crossing his fine features. “Did I?” he wondered absently. “I don’t recall. Too busy being ousted for a pretty female.”

The table rattled and Rhysand barely flinched as Feyre picked her mug up delicately, but his eye twitched and he shifted in his seat.

“Chafing?” the High Lady asked behind the rim of her mug.

“Not at all, darling,” Rhysand shot beck, unperturbed.

Feyre arched a brow but said nothing.

“I do seem to remember my idea now, though,” the male continued easily, “if you both still have interest in my company.”

“I suppose,” you said, biting your cheek again when Feyre sent a flashing grin your direction.

“We take it . . . One day at a time,” Rhysand said, studying you for a reaction. “We have no expectations of one another but we also try not to actively avoid what could be. I’ve done enough of that in my life, I’m afraid.”

You felt yourself soften at his words — the weight within them and the unspoken confessions. You’ve heard many things about the High Lord — varying degrees of opinions but this was a firsthand experience and none of those rumors could have sufficed in their entirety.

“Avoidance of great difficulties and running has been apart of my life,” you begin, playing with the empty mug and looking away from them both. “I was taught to never face my fears or obstacles head on if I wanted to keep my head on.”

Feyre reached out again, fingers resting on your knuckles. “You did what you had to do to survive — but you’re not having to fight for survival anymore.”

You did not reject her touch; you let it melt into you like butter on top of toast and swallowed the rising cry of sudden anxieties in your throat.

“One day at a time,” you agreed, breaking through the chains that your father had always warned you to keep wound tight.

“Your daughter — you said her name was Astra?” Rhysand questioned curiously, his attention on the two younglings that were still miraculously keeping each other entertained.

“Astraea, Astra for short,” you confirmed, smiling as Nyx reached up to press a chubby finger against your daughter’s prominent dimple. It was the simple fact that she was allowing such contact that soothed so many concerns you had fostered for a long while.

Astra was not a touchy child — and you never forced her to be so. Boundaries were important and if your daughter simply had stronger ones, you’d ensure they were enforced for her.

She was quiet, self-soothing, and even when you had the opportunity to watch her at Iris’ home, she kept a firm comfortable distance when and if she chose to play with the others.

“What a pretty name,” the Illyrian commented. You shifted your gaze to the male and were taken aback by what you saw.

Completely relaxed, arm splayed over Feyre’s shoulders as the two had turned their bodies to watch the children play. His night black hair shadowed his features from view at this angle, but you had the strangest inkling that the tinge of contentment you felt wasn’t just your own.

“She was born at night,” you said thickly, the scene of your mates in the sunlight almost too much. “And I didn’t want her to ever think — to think that it was a bad thing. Because I’ve always preferred it. And dawn. So I gave her a name that reveals some of the nighttime’s best attributes.”

They looked over to you as one and Rhysand tilted his head slightly. “You’ve never been scared of the dark?”

You scraped your fingernail into the grooves of the tabletop, unable to give an answer to this question in truth.

Feyre was pleased to learn you took Astra to Iris on days where you had to work — especially when you knew she was going to be taking Nyx there in the next upcoming weeks for socialization.

Outside of that, you made plans to start meeting at Caspian’s for breakfast once a week to begin with — to ease yourself mostly.

You came home later that evening — having taken the night off to allow your thoughts to settle — only to find two High Fae sitting at your sad excuse for a dinner table, the single light above said table flickering as you shut the door a bit too roughly in shock.

Astra knew immediately based on the blonde hair who was here to visit. “Morrrrrrre,” she squealed, becoming increasingly difficult to maintain in your arms as the two figures stood up.

“Asssstra,” The Morrigan greeted back cheerfully as she made the first move forward while Amren hovered behind. She reached out when your daughter did, nearly falling out of your arms in the process.

“Take her,” you relented tiredly, as the tiny form melted into Mor’s body in a hug. “She’s very happy to see you again, obviously.”

“How did you get inside?” You asked Amren, dropping your stuff onto the table and falling into a chair. Amren sat back down gracefully, eyeing you with an unreadable expression. “Wait — do I even want to know?”

“Your landlord,” Amren replied, straightforward. She wore a soft, thick sweater that had puffy sleeves. It looked expensive and comfortable — and something you’d wish you could afford. “Apologies for invading your home without asking.”

“Are we?” Mor asked as she poked at Astra’s cheek.

“I assume you only break into places if the matter has merit,” you conclude, tucking hair behind your ear carefully as you folded your hands on top of your bag. “Did something happen in the Spring Court I need to know of?”

“No, nothing like that.” Amren waved a manicured hand at you, nose wrinkled as if the mere thought of discussing Court matters was beneath her at this moment.

“Alright, then what could possibly have gotten your attention to this degree?”

“When were you gonna tell us you were mated to Rhysand and Feyre?” Mor blurted, eyes wide even though she was playing about with Astra.

You blinked at her in disbelief. “What?”

Amren had pulled her hand back to inspect something on a cuticle. “We came to the conclusion that your mating bond was connected to our High Lord and Lady sometime early this morning and confirmed it later when they came home looking moony eyed. That’s normal for Rhysand — but Feyre?”

Your cheeks burned the more she spoke. “For Cauldron’s sake, I just found out myself—“

“Moony eyed—“ Mor continued from Amren’s proclamation, her cheeks blown up dramatically at Astra’s boisterous laughter.

“We’re not sure how deep this goes,” you said, shaking your head and clenching your fingers into the fabric of your bag. “Taking it slow seems like the best option right now. There’s no . . . Promises of anything, but there’s not exactly a refusal of it either.”

Amren’s eyes glinted in the way they do when you bring her drinks; you’ve never quite marked down what it means but you know it’s the steady eye of an old predator thinking entirely too carefully about something.

“Well, girl,” she finally says, resting her chin upon her curled fingers as she stared at you, “this will be an interesting change to the Inner Circle’s dynamic.”

PART FOUR

TAG LIST: @motorsp0rt , @lifetobeareader , @hjgdhghoe , @mystirica-blog , @skyler129 , @kooterz , @we-were-beautiful , @manicmanuscription , @sweetorangeblossom , @kissesfromnovalie , @lovely-susie , @beeop223 -- IF I HAVE FORGOTTEN ANYONE LET ME KNOW!

#feyre archeron x reader #rhysand x reader #feysand x reader #inner circle #acotar #fanfiction

148 notes · View notes

potatoplace · 2 days ago

Text

Lavender Haze

Poly+ SJM Week: Day 4 | @polysjmweek

Feysand x Singer!Reader

Poly!ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist | Event Masterlist

Summary: You're a famous singer, finally home for the first time in over a week. After a dinner meeting, all you want is to sink into the arms of the ones you love.

Warnings: mentions of stalking if you squint

Words: ~1.4k

Author's Note: I looove this idea so much, I think it'll be a series! Of course, the title is from the Taylor Swift song. This is basically just a cute fluffy lil intro ☺️ I hope you guys like it! I'm so excited to work more on it!! Read it on AO3! 🫶

18+ only pls

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

The lights blinded you as Azriel led you the short distance from the restaurant door to the car, paparazzi yelling loudly to try and get your attention. You flashed a smile to those at your right before Azriel ushered you inside, and you quickly slid onto the plush leather, buckling your seatbelt as Az shut the door behind you.

He opened the driver’s door a moment later, getting inside and starting the car immediately. “Your place, or theirs?” Azriel asked as he eased the car into traffic, his hazel eyes meeting yours briefly in the rearview mirror.

The question alone made a smile appear on your face. “Theirs, please.”

Azriel didn’t respond, merely shifting lanes and taking the next turn, the one that would lead you to your loves. Thirty minutes later, the car was pulling into the underground, most importantly, private, parking lot, with Azriel stopping just in front of the elevator.

“Have a good night, Y/N, and tell them I said hello,” Azriel said with a slight smile.

“I will, Az. And thank you, for coming to that dinner with me,” you said as you stepped out of the car, your heels clicking on the concrete.

“It’s no trouble, Y/N. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Night, Az. Drive safe!” You shut the door, immediately walking to the elevator and inserting your keycard, knowing that Azriel wouldn’t leave until you were safely inside, what with the recent goings-on.

Within thirty seconds you were pressing the button for the penthouse, inserting your keycard once more to gain access. And only three minutes later, a cheerful chime rang out and the doors opened, a golden-brown blur racing towards you, arms enveloping you. “Darling, I missed you!”

You let out a surprised giggle, your arms wrapping around Feyre tightly. “I missed you too, Fey!”

“So, how was London?! How was the meeting tonight?” She asked as she led you out of the elevator and to the living room, gently pushing your shoulders until you sat on the couch. Feyre kneeled before you, a blush dusting your cheeks as she began undoing the straps of your heels.

“London was amazing, I think the talk show interviews went really well, same with the live performances I did for them. And the meeting with Tarquin went well, I’m so glad you guys set it up!” You sighed when Feyre kissed a trail up your right leg, stopping at the hem of your dress and looking up at you. “We talked about doing a collab, probably for a standalone single. Now come up here,” you insisted, pulling Feyre up off of the floor and onto the couch with you.

“That’s good, you’ve talked about wanting to do this for a while! We can send over a letter to his label tomorrow to get the ball rolling faster, if you’d like?” Feyre asked, ending the question with a soft kiss to your lips.

“Maybe, but he did give me his number so we could talk more about it,” you said hesitantly, your eyes flicking to her blue ones.

“Oh? And you didn’t happen to mention that in your rundown of the night?” Feyre asked with a giggle, poking your side playfully. “That sounds fine, then the two of you won’t feel pressured into doing it if there’s not a good connection with him.”

You smiled at Feyre, glad that the phone number wasn’t a big deal.

That was something you were still getting used to.

“I thought so too. Anyways…” you said, letting your fingers run lightly over her arm. “How was your week?”

“Oh, work and meetings, though Rhys and I did manage to go out to Rita’s with his brothers and Mor on Friday and Saturday. But it’s a whole lot better now that you’re back,” Feyre said softly, her hand cupping your face. “I missed you.”

You pressed a kiss to her lips, lingering close when you pulled away. “And I missed you, so much. I felt like I was going crazy, not getting to sleep next to you.”

Feyre chuckled. “I know, the bed felt so empty with just me and Rhys. I think it’s medically required that you sleep between us tonight. And I know that Rhys missed you too.”

Your nose wrinkled when you smiled, that little tidbit making your night even better. Rhys wasn’t much for talking about his emotions with you yet, though his little notes that came with each coffee he brought you at the studio said more than enough about how he felt.

“Is he here? Or working late again?” You asked, half expecting him to have been called in for a late night emergency meeting.

“I happen to be right here, darling, I was just finishing up a few notes for a meeting I have tomorrow,” Rhys said as he came out of the hallway that led to his office, sleeves rolled up to his elbows.

A look you loved on him, and he knew it. “I would have postponed any silly little meeting that would have interfered with me seeing my baby girl after ten days without her pretty face.” His lips met yours firmly as he leaned over the couch, placing them to Feyre’s as well before standing straight again. “Can I get you ladies anything to drink? Wine, whiskey, juice?”

“Juice?” you giggled. “I’ll have some wine, please, white or pink please.”

“I’ll have a glass of red, please,” Feyre said. “And I agree, offering juice is just silly when wine is an option, Rhys.” “I’ll be right back with those drinks, loves,” Rhys said with a shake of his head at the teasing.

“Thank you Rhysie!” you and Feyre said in unison, earning you a smirk and wink over the shoulder from him.

“Ahh, I love his butt,” you sighed as you watched him pour the drinks out, still clad in his suit pants and button up.

“Me too,” Feyre giggled. “Yours is perfect to, you know.”

You shot her a playful look. “Ah, so we can all count ourselves extremely lucky, because your ass is the most perfect of them all,” you said, punctuating your words with a kiss. “I swear, I’m the luckiest girl in the world, getting to be with both of you.”

“I think we could say the same, Y/N,” Rhys said softly as he handed you and Feyre your wine glasses, returning to the counter for a moment to grab his own drink, a finger of whiskey in a crystal glass. He sat next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulders, his hand resting on Feyre’s left one.

You took a small sip of your wine before setting it on the coffee table, much preferring to rest your head on Rhys’s shoulder. “I missed this. London is nice and all, but nothing beats getting to be with the two of you.”

“I have to say, the apartment felt very quiet with you,” Rhys commented before pressing a kiss to your head. “And as loud as Feyre is in bed, it’s not nearly as fun to make her scream without you there.”

Beside you, Feyre blushed at his words. “Just say you missed hearing her scream too, Rhys, you said it enough to me.”

Rhys narrowed his eyes at Feyre for a brief moment before looking back to you. “I did miss hearing you scream, little love, very much,” Rhys said lowly, his violet eyes locked on yours. “How about we get into the bedroom, so I don’t need to any longer?”

Your heart stuttered at the suggestion, but Feyre held you back with a hand on your chest. “Ah, ah. Rhys, you promised we could catch up on the latest episode of Velaris Medicine before we did anything else,” Feyre said, a slight whine to her voice.

Rhys sighed against your neck. “Very well, darling, we can watch the show. But as soon as it’s over, I’m carrying both of you into the bedroom, one in each arm,” Rhys promised, a hungry look in his eyes.

You almost wished that he would lose control and take you both in now…

Almost.

But the last episode had ended on a cliffhanger and you were dying to see it. “Boot it up Fey!” you said cheerily, pinching her butt when she stood for a moment to grab the remote. She shot you a look before turning the TV on, quickly locating the recording she’d made sure to keep.

The intro music started, and you relaxed back into Rhys’s hold and the couch cushions, feeling relaxed for the first time in ten days.

Here, with them, everything felt perfect.

And you never wanted it to end.

🤍🩵🤍💜🤍

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff @lilah-asteria @meritxellao @twismare @wrenisrad @icey--stars

69 notes · View notes

readychilledwine · 3 months ago

Text

Extramarital Escape pt 3

Summary - Being Nyx's nanny came with many perks. You just didn't expect an affair to be one of them.

Warnings - fxf smut and all the glory that comes with it, mentions of pregnancy bodies (in a good way), paint play, mess play, slightly fluffy, fated mates, slight manipulation, loose editing *if you see a mistake, no you didn't*

A/N - Happy New Year! I only have one more part planned for this, but it is the 3some you all have been waiting for.

✨️Extramarital Escape - Pt 1 Pt 2✨️

✨️Master Masterlist✨️

Feyre was thrilled when you offered to spend the day with her. Rhysand had taken Nyx to Windhaven, showing off the sweet baby illyrian to the camp leaders. He had bragged about it being a statement, something you didn't fully understand, having never left the safety of Velaris. Azriel and Cassian were beaming as you helped Rhysand get Nyx into his little flight carrier, though. They had been beyond excited for the heir’s early morning adventure.

Rhysand had taken a moment alone with you, a soft kiss on your forehead reminding you to be his good girl. And good you had been.

You had woken the High Lady up to breakfast in bed, her favorite casual painting outfit set out and ready for her. Anything Feyre asked for, you handled, giving Nuala and Cerridwen a much deserved day off, and more importantly, leaving you and Feyre home alone.

Perhaps that was why the very air seemed to cackle around you with electricity as you two worked in laying out and flattening a large canvas. She had lesrned of a new abstract painting method, one that involved losely throwing paint on a canvas without a true end goal. “Self expression and emotions,” she had smiled so brightly as she described it to you.

Every so often as you two crawled carefully along the canvas, your hands would brush, sparking nerves and heat through both of you that was well hidden with neutral faces. Feyre wasn't the first female you'd ever found yourself so attracted to, but she was the first who held a magnetic pull over your heart, tugging at ribcage without you even knowing how or why.

“Thank you for helping me,” Feyre broke the silence, hand reaching for yours. “Truly. This is such a huge canvas. It would have taken me hours by myself.”

You could only smile, “Anything for you.”

She didn't miss the flirtatious way that message rolled off your tongue, once again tugging that precious 3 way mating bond to see if you secretly knew. She saw you blinked as she tugged, eyes lighting up when she realized you felt it, just didn't realize what it was. She purposely brushed her hand against yours again, yearning for the contact only Rhysand had been spoiled enough to have.

She didn't resent her husband for having you first, only for sending him the images of you below him, the sounds of you crying out for him, and for kissing her afterwards, only letting her have the lingering faint taste of you instead of the real thing. They had hoped you experiencing him would have been enough to pull you to them naturally, but you were a fighter.

She could remember the shame you'd accidentally sent down the bond, having assumed you were just her husband's mistress. You were more, though. That third missing piece. That last part of the void in their hearts. You didn't know this yet, but Feyre was in love with you. Every freckle, every scar, every inch you criticized in the mirror, she had memorized and sketched into her drawing book that stayed on her bedside table.

Having you so close was becoming torture. The way your hair fell from its braid, strands loose in your face, the way the sun hit your cheekbones, the way it glittered in your hair, you were art. The very muse she had been chasing.

Feyre then made the first move, lacing her fingers into your own and pulling you closer to her, “You smell good.”

You felt your face heat and flush, “Thank - thank you.” Your body reacted to her touch so naturally, fingers lacing into her as your body leaned into her pull. Her scent had mixed with Rhysand's perminately, lilac and sea salt mingling with the lingering scent of the expensive paints she used daily.

A heartbeat.

A breath.

One blink.

And the dam broke.

Feyre was on you, pushing you back and lips crashing onto yours like wave eager to come back home to shore. Both of her soft hands moved to your face as she shut her end of the bond down, refusing to let Rhysand know she had broken their deal of approach you together. Refusing to admit to the weakness she felt around only two fae. Rhysand and you.

Her lips were soft and tasted faintly of the bitter tea and sweet honey you had brought to her before this project started. Her kiss was eager, hungry, aching. Feyre made sure you felt her with each movement. It should have been no surprise. The High Lady found peace in passion. She thrived off expressing it, out of letting passion flow through every movement, and kissing you would be no exception.

Her hands tangled into your hair, the two of you finally fully falling on the canvas, spilling over a near by container of purple paint. As your shirt came off a light blue one fell. Then red as you eagerly removed her soft wool sweater. One by one containers spilled over, medium meeting material as hands began to touch and truly feel soft skin.

Neither of you noticed how covered you were. How could you as she took control, nipping softly on your neck as her kisses moved lower and lower. She bit down on your collarbones, licking over each bite tenderly, murmuring a soft apology into your skin as the bruises began. Her hands held yours at your sides, “Above your head,” her eyes were glossy, drunk on the feeling of having control. “Don't move them unless I say so.” The way you wordlessly obeyed a sigh letting your mouth as you did.

She controlled her pace like her life was in the balance, taking her time to savor you instead of rushing. Each kiss seemed to follow a pattern only she knew. You gasped as her tongue swirled your left nipple before her lips wrapped around it, a hum coming from her at the sounds you were already making. Her hand went to your other breast, dragging along you as it did, covering your skin in a mix of blue and deep green paint. Every movement began to reflect on the canvas as you two slowly became covered in the think material, but she never stopped to care, worshipping your left breast then the right. She didn't want to miss a single in of skin, not when you whimpered in a way that reminded her of music.

She understood how Rhysand had become so addicted to you so quickly. The male you two shared in that rare 3 way mating bond had a love language that was fulfilled through praise. Your sighs, your moans, every noise as she shot waves of pleasure down your spine was praise. She had never been happier as she finally settled between your thighs, forcing your legs apart a little more before only tossing one over a shoulder.

That first lick was fire. The second ice. The third wave heaven. Feyre's control had gone out the window at the taste of you. It was her first time doing this, but she was a natural. She thought back Rhysand between her legs, those silent selfish desires she wanted that went unanswered. She refused to allow that to be you as she licked and sucked at every part of your core.

Her left had had been spared paint, a single finger sliding home inside of you. you felt your walls twitch instantly, “Feyre.” She hummed against you, hazy blue eyes looking up towaras your flushed face. “Please don't stop.”

“Never,” she whispered back. “Never.”

With her tongue and fingers working in time, you felt your stomach tightening, a high you normally had to beg for rushing and just seemed to arrive. Feyre knew your body in her first introduction. She knew your wants, the needs. She hummed around your clit again, a second finger gently pushing in and immediately finding your gspot.

Her pace picked up then, fingers curling up hard, tongue tracing soft half moons over then under your clit over and over teasing you. When that contact came, that first gentle push of that swollen bundle, you fell apart. She didn't stop, knowing what it felt like to finally reach your high and have your partner stop what they were doing instead of easing you back down. She slowed her movements as your walls slowed their spasms before pulling away.

“You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen,” she smiled up at you, her voice like cool silks against heated skin.

She moved back up your body, keeping thay raised leg against her chest before settling her own heat against yours.

You were both so wet, the first roll of her hips came with ease. It tested the waters, the two of you holding eye contact to see if the simple act of her core kissing yours was enough.

And Gods it was. She wasted no time setting a pace and watching as your back arched, hands still trapped where she wanted them. You felt every bump of her clit against yours, heard every slick noise. Feyre's moans were harmony to your own. The two of you had fallen into such a sync that you wondered how you had denied yourself this for so long.

Her right hand came to rest on your wrists, her strong abdominal core allowing her to keep that rhythm she had while she leaned down, long blonde hair following around the two of you like a privacy curtain.

To was truly like it was only you and her in the world. There was no one else you could imagine having this with, no other female you've ever want to share a bed, or canvas with. Rhysand was that male for you. Feyre that female.

You flipped her over when you noticed her beginning to struggle, taking over control and spreading her legs to continue the motions she had started.

Feyre had been gorgeous in her pregnancy body, but something about her faded stretch marks, her wider hips, it made your mind spin. No female should have been allowed to be so attractive. Yet, here she was, a mantra falling from her lips of your name as you worked to take her mind from this plane and to the stars.

Your own high was building, “Finish with me,” you commanded, surprised by your own tone. “Show me how good I'm making you feel.” A choked sob of bliss left her throat as your hand found it, squeezing that vital area just enough to give Feyre a rush.

And it happened.

Like the final domino falling, the High Lady of Night came below you, your own orgasm rushing over you like a wave. You forced yourself to focus on her, on that scream, on the curve of her breasts, on the panting of her chest. When you both came back down, you got off of her, pulling her to her side and into another deep kiss.

Her brand new canvas was ruined, signs of what had happened written into every fiber. Mixtures of contrasting and complimenting colors were spread, some areas loosely reflecting your bodies. It was movement. It was passion. It was what Feyre had wanted for this canvas. When you two stood, you were giggling as you looked at it, but Feyre had an unreadable expression, glancing at that drying paint even as she took you to her bathroom to bathe.

Feyre returned to her art room alone once you were asleep, once Rhysand was asleep. She worked meticulously, cutting out the exact piece of canvas she wanted and stretching it over the wooden framing she had picked.

The piece of a sign of the love she held for you, the mating bond burning bright as she smiled one last time at the final product. "Love and paint," the name much different from her realistic pieces to match the different artistry style.

She was going to give it to Rhysand, already smirking as she began to play out every possible way her husband would react.. To you, it was innocent. For her and Rhysand, it would trigger another memory, one you had never been filled in on, and Feyre could not wait to see his face.

General Taglist:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers @bloodicka @starsinyourseyes @the-sweet-psycho @mariahoedt @rinalouu @sarawritestories @starryhiraeth @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @cumuluscranium @loneliestluvr @eternallyelvish @azrielsmate3 @daughterofthemoons-stuff @meritxellao @aria-chikage @hungryforbatboys @lilah-asteria @fandomrejects @sleepybesson @tayswhp @itsswritten @milswrites @littlest-w01f @mrsjna @thyellablackk @yeonalie

Feysand Taglist:

@avajustreads

Extramarital Escape taglist:

@wickedfelinaxo @sh4nn @justdreamstars @jesssicapaniagua @harrystylesfan2686 @slytherinindisguise @fxckmiup @saltedcoffeescotch @sarawritestories @yeonalie @sinarainbows @justaboredbookworm @xcarrotxs-blog @paleidiot @nayaniasworld @fyfy-world @seasonallyapril @alhaithmss @Ilovelydove @nebarious @helloevilmuffins @cynthiesjmxazrielslover @tempermentalbookworm @velarisnightsky444 @kdawgiedawg @inkedinshadows @percyjacksonspeen @velarisdusk @goldenmagnolias

368 notes · View notes

littlest-w01f · 22 days ago

Text

Acotar Omegaverse Week 2025

MAIN MASTERLIST

For @acotar-omegaverse-week

Day 1 - First heat/Rut

Comfort (Azriel x Reader) {light angst}

Summary: During heat, Omegas need constant comfort from their mates. For your first heat as a bonded omega, the suddenness takes you by surprise, left alone in the busy market and the rather unsafe atmosphere of your Autumn home.

Day 2 - Pack Bond

Found (Feyre x Reader) {fluff}

Summary: When the three-way mating bond snapped for Feysand with you, a young single mother picking up your son from his painting class, they understood how two alphas could be mated together. You were their full completion, something they'd never let you forget.

Rhysand's part

Day 3 - Purring & Cuddling

Sleepy time (Rhysand x Reader) {fluff, sugestive}

Summary: With how much Rhysand valued your rest, especially since you now carried a child, you took it upon yourself to value his, mainly since it entailed seducing him to bed.

Day 4 - Knots & Ties

Tying Knots (Eris Vanserra x Reader) {suggestive}

Summary: On your mating ceremony, after a few too many drinks, your tongue loosened, letting past some thought you'd been having of your mate and relationship.

Day 5 - Ravaged & Ruined

Rough taking (Rhysand x Reader) {smut}

Feyre's part

Day 6 - Monster Mayhem

Highest Defence (Bryaxis x Reader) {smut}

Summary: When Autumn Court struck on Velaris, Rhysand wanted you to remain safe in the River House. When a few soldiers set their eyes on Nyx, you had to leave. Luckily, the Beast of Nightmares was ready to protect the Princess of Night, for the right bargain.

Day 7 - Free Day

Packed fit (Cazriel x Reader) {comfort, smut}

Summary: During one of your very first missions, you were left with Cassian and Azriel in Hewn City. With an injured Cassian, you returned back to the hideout Rhysand had handed you while playing secret matchmaker.

Hope you all enjoy :)

216 notes · View notes

we-were-beautiful · 5 months ago

Text

Unraveled Ends Chapter 2

Pre chapter Shenanigans

a/n: Sooooo long time no post but I'm here now and that's what matters. Writers block hit me like a brick wall after my last piece that I did for the riders quadrant fic exchange back in July, that piece was only supposed to be 3k in words but ended up around 7.8k. I had been working on this chapter at the same time and had roughly 2k words but after I got through the edits on the gift fic couldn't seem to string together a coherent sentence much less moving the plot forward. all my photos for the moodboard/aesthetic come from pinterest. Last bit of info is that we did pick up two beta readers for this story( but I am always open for more if people want to hop in). So big Thanks to @loving-and-dreaming and @curse-bearing-hips for reviewing this chapter. That said we are all still human so there is more than likely some mistakes. And a huge thanks to @whisplion for inspiring me to write this fic. Hope y’all enjoy

Summary: A tailor in the heart of Velaris finds herself mated to the two most powerful fae in Prythian. Unfortunately for her the mating bond only snapped for her, leaving her to question on how to move forward. Should she wait for her mates to feel the bond or should she go ahead and reject it and live with the gaping hole in her heart

Poly!Feysand x Reader

Warnings: None but there is angst

WC:3.1k

The next few weeks are nothing short of hell. I didn’t know pretending like nothing is wrong would be as exhausting as it has been. It was a never ending cycle of waking up, getting ready, going to work, and coming home. At work I was dancing a fine line of hiding everything from my seamstresses and sister and failing miserably. The only small mercy that I have had was that I haven’t had to see my mates. Thank the mother for that; I don’t know how I would have reacted to seeing them so soon after the bond had snapped. Not seeing them however did nothing to dampen the feelings that the two of them would throw down the bond unknowingly. Deep down I know that they didn’t mean to send those memories and feelings to me, but on a good day it makes me sick to my stomach. I don’t know why it has gotten worse. I was fine for a year of burying the feelings that I have for the two down.

They were so happy together, and I don’t have a place in their perfect lifestyle. I thought that I had seen them around town a lot when they were just my customers but now it felt like every time I turned around they were there. It has increased since they came in to get their outfits for Starfall designed. I swear I ran into Rhys yesterday when I went to get lunch for myself. I ran into Feyre the other night while I was getting the groceries for my sisters and me. The two of them had actually approached me a week ago while I was at the park with my baby sister. They had little Nyx with them then and it felt like someone had taken a hold of my heart and started squeezing. The babe was adorable at two years of age. He's starting to reign terror on his parents who had apparently decided he needed to run off his energy at the park. The two of them are far more friendly with people than I would have liked, but mostly that friendliness was targeted towards me. As they joined me on the bench sandwiching me between them. They ended up chatting my ear off for the better part of an hour. There brushes of hands against my body that were too well placed to be incidental. It felt like a vice clamping down around my heart as I left the park with my sister to head home. Feyre had wanted me to stay a bit longer so that she could continue talking to me about my sketches.

The physical interactions with them weren't the worst thing though. It was the images and emotions that the two had unknowingly sent down the bond. It wasn’t unusual to get a flash of lust from one of them at any given time of the day. It was inconvenient to just get hit with the overwhelming need for someone when I’m with clients. Late at night though I get the images. Of my mates tangled up in pleasure. Sometimes it was flashes of Feyre's face screwed up in pleasure; other of Rhys’s eyes alight with lust and desire. Those nights sleep was hard to come by. A few of those nights I found myself back in the shop working on my clients orders, anything to keep my mind from lingering on the two people that didn’t know I was bound to them. I was surprised to be receiving so much from them down the bond given that both of them are powerful Demati. I figured that they would be skilled at keeping to themselves.

Last night was one of those sleepless nights. It was a damn near endless barrage of want and need coming from both of them. If I hadn’t known that their mating bond had been accepted between them I would have assumed that they had accepted it last night. I left a note for my middle sister in the kitchen before heading to the shop in the dead of night. Being the night court, plenty of people were milling about the streets and shops in the palace of thread and jewels. Thankfully it isn’t one of the nights we keep the shop open for those who live under the stars, I could work in peace and not be bothered by anyone. No customers, no seamstresses, no nosy sisters, and most importantly no over friendly mates or their friends.

It was wonderful to sit in the shop and do what I love with my shadows dancing around me. The shadows had been my friends since I was a very small faeling. They were more shy when I was out in public but when it is just me they come to life and sing. I had only seen two other people like me. One was my maternal grandfather who was from a court that had long since been lost; and the other was Azriel. Grandfather was able to teach me how to control the shadows and use them to my advantage. But he also told me to keep the gift to myself. Shadowsingers had long been coveted by the courts to be used as spies; and he and my parents were worried that the former High Lord would have conscripted me into his spy network if it was ever found out. I had successfully kept it a secret for nearly 400 years. Though times like this, when the shop is closed and I have the room to myself, I let them loose. A soft smile grows on my face as I watch the playful shadows dance about the room. A few of them try to be helpful by handing me tools and instruments that I need as I work on Feyre’s Starfall gown.

Feyre’s dress had been coming along beautifully. She had come in for a fitting last week where we were checking the fit on the mock up. The High Lady had all but begged to have a similar fabric to my own. We had more of the fabric left; thank gods for that; the last thing I wanted to do was take a trip to the Autumn court to source more. I lose track of time working on the dress; so much so that I didn’t realize the sun had risen until I heard the lock on the door turn.

“Sis, are you still here?” Genevieve calls out. Of course she came here. “I saw your note on the counter this morning. I dropped Itty bitty off at school and brought breakfast.”

I sigh and set my things down to make my way out of the work room. Genevieve stands in the room looking so much like our mother; hair tied up in a worn red scarf, a dark red linen shirt and comfortable leather trousers. Ready for a day at the blacksmith. In her hands she balances a bag of what I assume is the breakfast and two cups in the other.

“Your shadows are so helpful I’m jealous.” She passes me one of the cups and I take a sniff and immediately am greeted by the comforting scent of coffee “ Were you here all night again?”

It's not hard to hear the concern in her voice as she takes a once over of me.

“Yes” I responded, taking a sip of the delicious coffee that she had brought.

“Ok what is going on with you.” She cocks her head to the side “It seems like you have been stressed this past year. Well more so than normal. This is starting to get worrisome. The number of times you have left the house in the middle of the night and worked through to morning is ridiculous.”

“What’s going on? I know it's not money since I help with the books and we have two sources of income coming in.” She takes a breath. “You can talk to me Sis.”

“Let's go into the office. The ladies should be coming in soon.” I led her into my office not wanting to state what was going on when one of my employees could walk in. Once we are in the office I gesture for her to take a seat in front of my desk. I take a seat and my chair, bones creaking as I sit on the soft leather. She fixes me with a look telling me to start talking.

“So I met my mates.” I sigh running a hand through my hair

“You met your mate. That's good news right.” She starts rifling through the bag of food

“Mates. Two of them.” She stops looking up at me

“Two. Is that possible?” Her eyebrows nearly disappear into her hairline.

“It is.” I lean back in my chair. “Incredibly rare but possible.”

“So let me repeat my earlier question. That’s good news right?”

“It’s complicated.” I bite my lower lip “The two of them are already mated. Sealed the bond and everything. But the bond only snapped for me.”

“They don’t know.” Her voice drops in concern

“No,they don’t.”

“So what is stressing you out about it? You wouldn’t be leaving the house in the middle of the night over nothing?”

“They are sending things down the bond. Images, emotions; it’s driving me crazy Gen.”

“Shit, well can you block them out.” Mom had taught the two of us how to shield from Demati when we were younger.

“I’ve tried; it only is able to dull it.” I fidget in my seat. “It also doesn’t help that I keep seeing the two of them every time I go out into the city.”

“Oh..” She hesitates “Do you mind if I ask who it is.?” I quickly sent a few shadows out to make sure that the shop was still empty and that there were no busy bodies lurking around the shop.

“It's the High Lord and Lady.” This was the first time I had ever said those words out loud. I guess I had thought that if I didn’t say it then I could pretend it wasn’t real and that it didn’t bother me. Gen lets out a low whistle.

“That does complicate things. I was going to tell you to grow a pair and tell them but fuck. The High Lord and Lady that… that makes things way more complex.”

“You see why I am stressed now.” I can feel the ugly emotions filling my chest.

“Yeah, you are in the world's shittiest situation.” She lets out a sigh “It's not like you can go up to them and say hey I am your mate. Fuck I am sorry Sis.”

I let out a wet laugh, a few tears escaped my eyes and rolled down my cheeks “ There’s nothing for you to apologize for. I just got dealt a shitty hand by the mother.”

“Are you going to…” She trails off. I know what she was going to say though. It wasn’t something that was talked about often and not in polite company. Rejecting the bond.

“It’s an option, and I am considering it. I want to ask a few friends of mine in Day about it first though. Since it hasn’t snapped for them they shouldn’t notice but I would like some confirmation first.” It helped that I had friends in other courts that I could gather information from; and there was no better place for information than the Day Court.

“I will support whatever decision you make. You deserve to be happy Sis, and if your happiness is achieved by breaking the bond then do it.”

The conversation between us dies after that as she passes me a blueberry muffin from the bag. Seems she stopped by our favorite bakery before heading over here. Time seems to fly too quickly and all too soon Gen has to leave for work leaving me here by myself. Although I’m not on my own for too much longer as my employees start trickling in.

The day seems to stretch on and on as clients make their way into the shop for fittings or to pick up their orders. The dull chatter of my employees and the various customers buzzes in my ears as I methodically pull a small needle through water-like silk. It's hard to make out any distinguishable conversation from behind my office door. Today seems like one of those days when time is just suspended and I can work in peace. There is a quiet content hum from my mates bond; one of the few times that I haven't felt heightened emotions from either of them.

A soft knock shatters the silence of the office, effectively breaking the spell of tranquility that had fallen over me

“Come in.” My voice cracks just a bit from not using it. The door squeaks open as a familiar head of midnight hair pokes in. Violet eyes twinkle in amusement as a smile grows across his stupidly handsome face.

“Sweetheart!” The door swings open the rest of the way as Rhysand swaggers his way into my office like he owns it. I am quick to stand from my desk.

“High lord.” I give him a polite curtsy, slamming my mental shields up before meeting his gaze

“How many times do I have to tell you it's Rhys?” He laughs before taking a seat in one of the leather chairs in front of my desk. “ So are you ready for my fitting or should I come back later.”

Shit… Shit shit shit. I had completely forgotten that he was on my books for his second fitting today. It wasn’t like I was completely unprepared. No his suit was ready for the fitting but I was nowhere near mentally prepared for a fitting and not having slept the night before was going to be the actual death of me.

“No, you are fine.” I move from behind the desk “Let me go grab your suit and we will get you out of here in no time.”

“No need to rush, I quite enjoy your company.” I cannot afford to focus on my racing heart right now. I need to get him out of this shop as quickly as possible. I move through the back of the shop with practiced ease quickly locating the High Lord’s suit hanging neatly next to the High Lady’s gown. The two pieces were works of art in themselves that compliment each other. The suit as dark as the night sky embossed fabric giving the illusion of swirling depths. The dress flowed off the hanger like liquid moonlight, the delicate silk the identical twin to my own gown. Small gems sewn into the bodice catch and reflect the light like the stars that will make their journey across the sky on Starfall. For as much as I don’t want to care about the two, these pieces tell a different story. If I wasn’t just a little bit attached to the two of them I would have passed the designs along to another dressmaker and been done with it; but now I painstakingly designed and sewn these garments for my mates. I let out a small sigh before reaching up to grab the suite. Once I get back to my office I am quick to pass the suit off to Rhys directing him to the small changing area at the back of the office. I quickly begin to route around my desk for my supplies.

An hour, all I have to do is make it an hour and then I will be free of Rhysand for the time being. It feels like forever before he walks out from behind the curtain. It is only years of working with Rhysand that keeps me from gasping out. If the suit was beautiful on the hanger and dress form it is absolutely stunning on the male it was made for. Rhys makes his way over to the platform and mirror in the office stepping up before moving to fuss with the cuffs.

“This is a beautiful suit Sweetheart.” He moves to pick off the smallest piece of lint on the collar. I move to stand behind him to begin the process of adjusting the way the suit sits on Rhysand.

We continued the song and dance that we had done for many years to get the suit to fit him perfectly. I can't help the small ache in my chest as I circle around him placing pins and chalk lines where minute alterations need to be made. Rhys is beaming the whole time chatting away like we hadn’t seen each other just the other day. I can feel the long day in my bones, my hands ache from the countless hours of work. My fingertips are raw from the amount of times I have jammed pins and needles into them. While I try to appropriately match Rhys energy, it's easy to tell that he isn’t buying the act.

“You seem tired.” He arches a brow at me as I move to pin the hem of his pants.

“My mates kept me up last night.” A mischievous glint grows in his violet eyes.

“Oh. They kept you up .” He teased but hidden in the back of his teasing tone seemed to be a bit of jealousy… possessiveness.

“Yeah the two of them kept sending all of their emotions down the bond last night.” I sigh looking up at him from my spot on the floor

“Two mates…” He stumbles with his words. He hasn’t done that since he was a teen and I was helping my father with his fitting “The mother has blessed you.”

“Blessed or cursed.” I put the pins down.

“Cursed.” He questions

“The bond only snapped for me.” A small sad smile grows on my face. My mental shields are intact and stronger than ever and it's not like I can tell Rhys that he and Feyre are my mates.

“Have you told them?” He questions, holding a hand out to help me from the floor

“No. The two of them have already sealed the bond and have started their own perfect little family.” It feels like an Illyrian has punched me in the gut as I make this confession to him “I don’t want to ruin that for them.”

“So what are you planning to do?” He tilts his head looking at me in sympathy “ Because you seem to have wilted these past few months.

“I have a few things I am thinking about doing. I want to seek out a few friends in Day first before committing to it.”

“Committing to what Sweetheart?” he gazes at me with concern

“Breaking the bond.” And as those words leave my lips you can see the color drain from his face.

Tag list: @rachelnicolee @goldenmagnolias @jesssicapanigua @sweetorangeblossom @cat-or-kitten @alowint @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @coldpeachkitten @esposadomd @araneea92 @saltedcoffeescotch @persephonesalvatore

#acotar x reader #acotar #acomaf #acowar #poly! feysand x reader #poly!feysand x reader #poly!feysand #rhysand x reader #rhys x feyre #rhys x reader #feyre x reader #feysand x reader #feyre archeron x reader #unraveled ends #feyre acotar #rhys acotar #rhysand

263 notes · View notes

danikamariewrites · 7 days ago

Text

Poly Week Masterlist

@polysjmweek is finally here! I’ve been looking forward to this event since we did it last time and I’m so happy to be participating again. I also love it’s expanded from just ACOTAR to cover all these SJM worlds. Unfortunately you won’t find any worlds crossing over here (I’ll leave that to others and Sarah) BUT I do have some fun pairings, fluff, angst, and of course smut 🤗

Day 1: Torn (Aelin x reader x Manon)

Being with Aelin and Manon is like walking on air. But being romantically involved with both queens (and kings) comes with its struggles as they constantly fight over which kingdom you spend more time in.

Day 2: That Funny Feeling (Lysadeion x reader)

Everyone around you is happy and in love. You’re happy for your friends, you just keep wondering when it’ll be your turn to be happy. The problem is you see yourself being happy with a pair that’s already mated and married. But that funny feeling in your chest gives you hope.

Day 3: One Hotel Room…Really? (Hunt x reader x Baxian)

You’ve had dreams where you’re squished between two hunky angels. Not when you’re pissed off at said hunky angels though. After being annoyed with Hunt and Baxian all day the last thing you want to do is share a bed with them.

Day 4: The Hunter (vampire!Neris x reader)

It’s been months since Nesta and Eris have turned you. Still getting used to your new vampire senses has you jumping at every noise and peeking around every corner just in case of monsters, forgetting you are the monster now. You find one in the shape of a human man creeping around your home.

Day 5: Play Again (Cassian x reader x Feysand)

The sight of Rhys and Feyre at Starfall has your brain turning to mush. The only thing you can think of is the night you all shared just a few weeks ago. And how badly you want them again.

Day 6: Locked Away (Cadre x reader)

Standing up to Queen Maeve with your loves doesn’t go as planned. To save them and stall for time you do the only thing you can think of. Making the ultimate sacrifice.

Day 7: Discipline (Cazriel x reader)

You already had your why choose moment with these two. Now you’re exploring the dynamic between the 3 of you and just how far you can push your new mates.

83 notes · View notes

tadpolesonalgae · 6 months ago

Text

Dizzying Kisses

Feysand x reader

a/n: this started out so wholesome idk what happened 😭

warning: love at first sight trope; smut; f/f/m threesome; facesitting; oral (everyone); overstim; cumplay—Rhys using reader’s mouth like a shot glass

word count: 5,491

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

It takes a bit of effort to unstick your eyelids from your lash line, but you eventually manage, rubbing at the sleep that’s crusted itself into an abrasive adhesive.

The sheets beneath you are soft and smooth, fragranced with something like vanilla and jasmine, a faint citrusy scent clinging to its edge and you wearily peer about, vision slightly blurred by a sleep addled brain.

Early morning sunlight has painted itself across the floorboards in a watery shade of cool-toned yellow, the diamond shaped panes of the glass windows casting thin, zigzagging shadows. The duvet itself seems to be cream covered, nestled beneath a rouge-rimmed quilt, stitched together with patches of dawn-pink, aquamarine-blue, dusky-orange, and tyrian-purple. Four wooden beams uphold the fabric draped overtop the bed, the curtains a shade of burnt orange on the interior, with a dark-red outside that has panels of maroon gossamer thinly veiling the material. A slight frill of burnished gold accents the hem.

A latch clicks from the far right side of the chamber, and you glance away from the window, blinking rapidly to clear away the fog as a female peers her lovely head around the door.

Not just any female, though.

You stiffen, hastily scrambling to sit straighter in the bed as you dip your head in a swift bow. “High Lady…”

She smiles, entering the room, her slipper-clad feet softly scuffing as she approaches. “You’re awake,” she notes, and you flush when she lays her palm across your forehead. “And better, by the looks of it.”

You blink, looking up at her quietly. “My Lady…?”

“Feyre,” she corrects, blue-grey eyes twinkling with life. “Please call me Feyre.”

You watch her silently for a second, attention flitting across her features for a clue to your circumstances—are you in her home? But you dip your head again, obeying her request.

Her eyes soften, and she pulls her hand away, your brow feeling faintly cool in its wake. “Do you remember last night?” She questions, and you shake your head, unease building in your gut as you worry your lower lip. Tuck your teeth away again.

Feyre hums to herself, her attention briefly skating over you, having not given herself the chance to beforehand. Skimming over your shoulders, the rumpled fabric of your night-gown, the soft roundness of your fingertips. How they’re dipping into the folds of the duvet. “You kissed me,” she says, glancing down at you, lips still curved gently. Mortification sets your skin ablaze, a delicate flame igniting in your flesh. “I— I kissed you?” You stammer, clutching the sheets as your fingers lock.

“Well, you kissed both of us, actually,” she corrects.

Your lips part with a sharp inhale, looking aghast. Deeply apologetic. “I— I’m so sorry, my Lady. I don’t know what must have come over me. Please, forgive—”

“We aren’t angry,” she interjects, holding you gaze firmly. She pries your left hand from the quilt, fingers warm and delicate beneath your own. “I believe it was a mistake on your part—the first time at least. Shall I show you? It may jog your memory.”

There’s nothing much for you to do besides nod, vaguely relaxing back into the padded headboard as she plies open your mind, slipping inside with ease.

The music is up-beat, strings playing a merry tune while the faelights shift in colour over head, panels of stained glass being slotted over them to give the illusion of the lights themselves changing.

I turn my head when I feel weakened fingertips seek out my wrist, gripping gently, only to be met with soft, faintly trembling lips being pressed to my own. I recognise the hint of the illegal drug almost immediately, and my eyes widen in time to watch as the female flinches, recoiling sharply.

At my back, my mate is swiftly approaching, a sure and familiar presence sweeping across the floor. It seems the female has enough sense left in her to recognise the thrumming power of the High Lord that’s already begun seeping across the floor in warning, other fae bodies instinctively making way so as not to catch his brewing mood.

Instead of cowering though, the female before me seems to panic briefly, before unsteadily tottering forward, making it just close enough to push onto her tiptoes and press a kiss to the High Lord’s jaw, before her legs give out and I’m catching her as she falls back, body limp.

Surprised violet eyes meet my own, brows raised as he glances down at the female passed out in my arms, head tipped to the side, laying across my breast.

Your lips are parted wider than they were last, but you don’t shut them. Instead panicking as the memories filter back into your mind, along with a faint pound of a growing headache. “I’m sorry,” you repeat, words tumbling in a frantic wash. “I— I remember seeing what had happened, and I had worried he might think I was trying to— So I wanted to kiss him to show I didn’t mean— Gods I’m so sorry.” An embarrassed flush heats your skin, simmering wickedly just below the surface of your flesh, head dipped in misery and shame.

“It’s perfectly okay,” the High Lady assures, squeezing your fingers. “I want you to know the male who drugged you has been found and dealt with—he will not be repeating his actions. We also had our healer check the concentration in your blood to make sure you were okay, and thankfully all you needed was a good night’s sleep to get everything out of your system.”

You flush, glancing to where she’s cupping your fingers, then looking at her again. “I’m still sorry for kissing you—both of you—even if there were external pressures…”

Feyre blinks slowly, her smile losing an ounce of its warmth. Barely noticeable, really, but you feel it. “Do you regret it?”

“I regret causing you discomfort, my L—” Her eyes harden, and you flush. “…Feyre. And your— and for kissing your mate…”

“And what about on your end?” She asks, tone softened only a little. You look at her questioningly but are unable to read the emotion in her blue-grey eyes. Cunning but deliberately blank. “Do you regret kissing either of us for your own discomfort?”

“No!” You speak hurriedly. “It’s an honour. I mean, hopefully that doesn’t make you upset to hear. I simply mean, to have been so close with either of you. I’m just so sorry I did what I did… How I did it…”

“You would have done differently had you been sober?” She asks, her hold tightening on your fingers, pulling your hand closer into her body.

You hesitate, fumbling. Glancing where her digits have begun twining with your own.

Feyre follows your gaze, and sighs, hands settling to the bed.

“My mate and I are divided on the matter,” she tells you, voice lowering to a hushed murmur. A guilty tug on her pretty pink lips. “He would rather give you space and time to warm up to us, since this meeting has happened so fast.” Fingers again squeeze your own, and she looks up at you with a glimmer in her heavy gaze. “But I’ve been on the end of that before, and hadn’t been pleased with his choices.”

You scan her features, trying to fit together the pieces but have the distinct feeling you’re missing something crucial. A fragment of memory that perhaps hasn’t yet allowed itself to resurface. Eyes flit to the curl of her digits between your own.

“I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand?”

Feyre pauses in thought, then she presses her hand to your cheek, unlacing it from your fingers. Breath flutters in your chest as your High Lady leans in, her head tilted enough so her lips might slant diagonally across your mouth, and a faintly wavy lock of hair slides from her shoulder, tickling against your collar bones. You can feel each faint exhale. Mark how her pupils dilate, lashes flickering as she glances down at your mouth.

Your breath catches as something tugs at your rib, a small, tender thread wrapped around the delicate bone.

“Did you feel that?” Feyre questions, thumb stoking the curve beneath your lip, eyes following with each swipe. “What…what was…?”

It happens again, and your lungs stutter, mouth parting in awe as you stare at her.

You worry over voicing your thoughts for fear of reaching the wrong conclusion and only worsening your predicament. To be as brazen as to suggest a possibility that would defy logic and reason, when it’s likely fuelled by your own desires…

Feyre lays her mouth over your own, the flavour of her lips slightly musky with a hint of berry, and you wonder if she delighted in fruits for breakfast. Perhaps would like to swipe your tongue across the seam of her mouth to taste more of her. To sample more of this delicacy you’ll surely never have the chance of trying again.

A heady sound echoes in your Lady’s throat when you follow through with your fantasy. Her fingers dig into the soft underside of your jaw, both hands cupping your face to leverage her mouth closer, capturing your lower lip between her teeth and tugging on it gently. She’s close enough you can feel the faint flutter of air that her lashes bat your way.

Blue-grey eyes simmer with heat as she watches you, thumb stroking across the crest of your cheek before falling to the side of your neck, fingers sifting through strands of hair. With great attentiveness, she strokes her tongue across your own, her heart jumping when your body jolts lightly from the intimate touch, a lovely soft sound captured in your throat.

Her hands begin to wander.

At first it’s her thumb skimming across your throat, then she’s grazing her fingertips along the ridge of your collarbone, and then before you know it she’s trailed those nimble digits further, tracing the curve of your breast, knuckles skimming beneath the soft, feminine weight. Your lashes flutter against her cheek, before you’re pulling away to gaze down at where she’s touching you.

Feyre watches intently to see what you make of the touch. Heat warms your cheeks and your lips part on a trembling inhale, spine curving in an offer—one she’ll contentedly accept. The soft pad of her second finger teasingly circles your covered nipple, before clasping it between the sides of her index and middle finger, rolling. Your breathing deepens, sinking down into the pillows, subtly urging her to lay herself over you.

It’s when Feyre’s knee is pressing between your thighs, her faintly wavy hair ticklishly brushing your exposed skin—where she’s unbuttoned your night gown to bare your breasts to her—that a firm set of knocks are delivered to the door, a warning rather than a request. Your eyes fly open, arms instinctively slapping across your chest to conceal your breasts, nipples sensitive, and freshly-licked.

Violet eyes calmly take in your own, and the night comes rushing back, how you’d kissed his mate—accidentally, but it had happened nonetheless—then pressed your lips to his own skin, too.

You open your mouth to apologise, but Feyre’s talented fingers have linked around your wrists, and you squirm when she pushes them aside, so they sink into the pillows you’re lying on. Expelling a gasp from your lips.

“Looks like the two of your are becoming well acquainted,” the High Lord muses, stepping into the room, pausing beside the bed, gazing down at you with interest. “Do you mind my being here?” He asks, and you realise he’s bothering to question you. It makes sense, you suppose, you just hadn’t considered it. You flush, but shake your head, lungs stuttering when Feyre returns to your breasts, circling the hardened tip of her tongue over the peak of your right nipple, allowing a small amount of saliva to build before letting it unspool onto you, before repeating the circles.

“You look to be enjoying her mouth,” Rhysand muses, raising the backs of his fingers to gently skim your cheek, thumb idly swiping the corner of your mouth, dipping to the hollow beneath your lower lip. “Are you?”

Your flush deepens, thighs squeezing together against Feyre’s knee at the softly intimate touch, something fluttering beneath your ribs from the gentleness of the High Lord’s caress. Teeth pull at the interior of your lip, struggling to get a hold of the wild heat they’re igniting in your lower belly, a tingling feeling spreading between your thighs.

“Getting shy now?” Feyre coos, unlatching from your nipple much to your dismay. “You were perfectly talkative before… He’s not as scary as he looks.”

“Scary?” Rhys parrots under his breath, a note of incredulity to be found. Feyre raises an eyebrow as she glances over him, as if challenging him to disagree. But his lips fashion themselves into a mischievous, feline grin, capturing your chin with his fingers, directing your gaze upward to face him. “Would I be less scary without all these clothes on?”

Your face burns, lips parting on a softly stunned inhale, staring up at him in slight bewilderment, his words alone giving rise to a series of involuntary images careening through your mind before you can stop from conjuring them.

“Rhys,” Feyre scolds, “you’re overwhelming her. She doesn’t know what to do with all that.”

“We can show her.”

“Rhysand,” Feyre warns, but you can tell it’s playful. You want her attention back on you, sliding a little further down in the pillows so her knee is pressed closer between your legs. Blue-grey eyes mark the shift immediately, and you flush at having been caught, grip tightening in the sheets as you find elsewhere to look. Her rosey lips curve, leaning closer until they’re barely brushing your own, a twinkle of mischief in her eyes. “Something you want, birdie?”

You inhale at her proximity, spine stiffening from how close she is, how bare you are beneath her. How exposed.

You incline your chin almost imperceptibly.

Feyre smirks, and leans in, once again sealing her lips over yours, and you think she must be a slice of heaven. Your hands depart from the sheets, travelling up her thighs to her hips, spanning her delicate waist. Her hair tickles your shoulder, trailing away when Rhys’s fingers shift the curtain of silky hair, pushing the locks gently out of the way so he can see how his wife is kissing his…

A small noise is captured between your mouths when something tugs at one of your ribs, a delicate thread being plucked that has you jolting. Pulling away.

“A second mate is unheard of,” Feyre murmurs, looking at you with a mixture of awe and disbelief. “And yet here she is,” Rhys finishes, making you blink, glancing between the two.

“You said you were honoured,” Feyre continues, drawing your attention back to her. “Are you still of the same mindset?” You stare at her, comprehension dawning as you accept your belief as truth, fantasy merging with reality. “What she’s asking,” Rhysand clarifies, allowing his fingers to fall from Feyre to graze across you collar bone, tracing upward to your jaw, brushing your cheek, “is will you have us.”

“Yes.” It’s softer than a whisper, shorter than a breath, but they feel it. Feel the acceptance without reluctance or hesitation. Falling into their arms.

Feyre’s eyes go briefly hazy as it clicks into place inside of her, a flush of colour rising to her cheeks with biological satisfaction. “Good,” she breathes, “perfect.”

Her scent has shifted, floating over to you, and instinct tells you exactly what it means. When her blue-grey eyes return to yours, they’re dilated; hungry. Information you should have no access to flowing into your body, innately understanding their states of being.

“How are you feeling?” Feyre asks, voice huskier than before, dragging with arousal. A heat has begun sprouting in your body, beginning to simmer and bubble, more prominently than before, abruptly taking off. You swallow. Nod your head.

“What you’re feeling,” Rhysand supplies smoothly, the only one able to grapple with the biological instincts urging you together as the one who understands it the most, “is the effects of the mating bond clicking into place. Since our bond,”—he gestures between him and Feyre— “is already set in place, the symptoms will make themselves known much more swiftly, while yours may take a few hours or even a day to reveal themselves.”

Right. The frenzy.

You flush.

“Do you—” Feyre swallows, cutting herself off before trying again, having to wet her lips, “do you want to join us?”

“Join you?” You’re breathless.

“I’m sure we’ll be able to manage between us, if you would like to rest,” Rhysand supplies, though you have the impression it strains on him to give that safety net. As if reminded of the option, Feyre’s eyes flick to him, hungrily tracing the cut of his figure, watching with a heavy-lidded gaze. You shift your hips against her knee, and they return to you.

In your periphery Rhysand readjusts his trousers.

“Will you?” She breathes, her hand rising from the mattress, shifting her weight to her other arm to allow her fingers to coast upward between your breasts, playing with the dip of your collarbone, tracing the outline. “We’ll be careful,” she assures, fingers now tracing across your lower lip, transfixed as her instincts call for her to strip you bare, explore the flavour of your mouth and skin; the taste between your legs.

“We could start with just one of us?” She tells you, your heart fluttering wildly as her words drip over your skin. “You and me first…”

“Greedy,” Rhys mutters.

“Rhys can watch,” she amends. “We can play in my and his bed—it’s much larger than this one—and I could start with these…” You gasp when she lowers her hand to your breast, circling your nipple with a feather-light touch, tugging on it gently. “Then we could move further…” Feyre takes your wrist in hand, moving to straddle your hips as she brings your palm to her chest, watching you intently as her spine curves into your touch. “And you could try touching me, if you like…? Would you like that? Wouldn’t that be nice?”

“She needs a chance to respond, Feyre,” Rhys chuckles, leaning against one poster of the large bed. She peers at you intently, rocking her hips almost subconsciously. “You’ll feel so good,” she whispers, bringing your other hand to cup her breast so you have both palms over her. “What do you think?”

Your flush deepens, looking away, and you can feel Feyre’s grip loosening, crestfallen.

“I…” You swallow, finding her gaze again, her expression attentive, then glancing briefly over Rhys, nerves wriggling beneath your skin before you look away again, peering at the floor. “I don’t want Rhys to feel left out…”

You inhale sharply at the stark arousal that blares down the bond, your thighs squeezing together in response, Rhys shifting as he takes down a steadying breath. A noise escapes your throat with the staggering awareness the bond is affording you, able to feel their hunger in your bones, perhaps also affording you a little more confidence than usual.

“We’re all mates, aren’t we?” You ask, glancing skittishly between them both. When they nod, you continue. “So I’d like…I think it would mean more to be with both of you…all together.”

————

They make you so dizzy.

The soft press of Feyre’s narrow lips dragging up the length of your throat, nipping at spaces below your jaw, licking over the bite marks they’ve each put into your skin, forgetting which ones belong to who; the heavy drag of Rhys’ fingers as they dip along the interior of your thighs, palms cupping the round curve of your knees only to slip beneath and delicately raise both legs to your chest; the heat of watching clothes fall to the ground, buttons coming free and ties being loosened, hair pushed back over delicate shoulders and sterling silver bands removed from scar-flecked fingers, flexing before they settle into the rhythm of touch.

You crawl after Feyre as she pulls away, pushing her second and middle finger to your lips to still you, her own mouth curving with feminine satisfaction. And now the question she’ll ask: “Who do you want next?”

How many times have they taken turns making you answer that question. How many times have you shamelessly given an answer. How many times have they satisfied your desire only to ask again, “Who do you want next?”

Always a next; never an end.

You whimper, clit puffy and sensitive from relentless stimulation, pleasure budding through your body, liquid gold buzzing beneath your skin. How many more touches can you take?

“Answer me,” Feyre coos, fingers slipping beneath your chin to incline your lips, leaning forward to almost meet you. “Who do you want next?”

“Feyre…” You’re nearly crying, so turned around, so dizzy. So desperate for movement and friction. “Please…” The High Lady beams, cupping your cheeks between her palms and pulling you close enough your noses touch, “mhmm? You want me?”

“Please…”

“How do you want me?” Feyre crawls closer, her knees touching your own, “Tell me how you want me.” Your lips part, cheeks flushing. Tongue shifting against your teeth. You’re too embarrassed to tell her.

Tender claws scratch at your mind, and your walls give a few moments later, tentatively lowering enough for her to slip inside and nestle with you. Watching the image you present her with.

Blue-grey eyes glitter with hunger, her mouth popping open, blinking away her surprise before grinning. “I didn’t think you’d be so dirty,” Feyre purrs, palms wrapping around your waist to pull you with her as she falls back into the bed, walking you up her body.

“Are my girls done scheming?” Rhys asks from behind you, effortlessly sending a hot shiver up your spine. His voice alone contains enough power to make your knees buckle. And, my girls. You and Feyre. He’s seeing the two of you together.

You rest your hands on the headboard, leaning forward enough that Feyre can grin at her mate from beneath you, “We’ll always be scheming, High Lord.” Her legs open, and your mouth waters. “Think you can keep up, Rhys?”

“Always, for you.” Feyre’s hands begin to loop over your hips to pull you down but Rhysand reaches forward and you gasp when you feel his thick fingers skating up the line of your spine, hairs prickling as you shiver. “You, too,” the High Lord purrs, pushing your hair to one side so he can reach the top of your spine. Your throat closes up, heart fluttering as those deft digits descend down the knots of your back. Stiffening in anticipation when he pauses at the base. “Turn around,” he instructs, clearly. “I should be able to see you, too.”

The hot breath of Feyre’s moan caresses your inner thigh, and you tighten around nothing. With flushed cheeks you slowly turn, careful of the female lying beneath you.

Violet eyes glimmer with starlight, and millions of tiny, fluttery wings erupt into motion between your thighs.

“Better,” he says, quietly. A faint smile on his soft mouth. “Now sit.”

You part your legs, shakily sinking down onto Feyre’s mouth, Rhysand keeping your eyes locked with him—watching as you settle, watching as your hands find placement on her breasts, watching as Feyre licks up through your centre and you shudder. An adoring smile half-lifts one edge of Rhysand’s lips, his irises softening at their edges as he marks the pleasure unfolding within you. Only then do his thumbs press into the meat of Feyre’s thighs, finding the divot at the interior of her knees to hold them apart, aligning himself, and sliding in.

You can’t help the way your mouth waters.

Rhys catches you staring and leans himself forward, grinning as you flush with embarrassment, “Wishing that was you?”

Your lips part, eyes darting away but he grips your chin lightly, forcefully guiding your gaze back to his. He leans closer and you shudder as Feyre’s lips wrap around your clit, suckling tenderly. Rhysand’s hand cups the nape of your neck, and wild heat fills your skin as he slowly licks over your bottom lip, the tip of his tongue dragging over the bitten area to drag lightly over your top one. You’re frozen stiff, completely at his mercy. He chuckles, like he finds your awe amusing. Lightly appreciative of your reverence.

But then he kisses you once on the lips and pulls back, both palms falling to Feyre’s waist, his thumb grazing over the beauty mark that lies a little to the left of her belly button. His hips draw back and slide in, Feyre’s back arching when he meets her all the way, hips held tight to her own. You can’t help the way your fingers fall to graze over her abdomen, able to see the prominent outline of the High Lord nestled within his mate.

He’s been inside you the same way he’s inside her.

You have to lick your lips.

“Move,” you whisper, circling your hips over Feyre’s mouth, almost certainly smearing arousal across her lips; the tip of her rosey nose; her chin. The High Lady moans her agreement, inclining her hips from the bed and you watch as the muscles in her thighs and stomach flex. Feline grace contained within her flesh. You want to taste every part of her you can.

Rhys begins slowly, languidly moving inside of her, rolling his hips so he slides all the way in to his base. Soon enough he sets their pace, and your eyes nearly roll with the pleasurable warmth that’s being delivered to your body, fizzling and fluttering throughout. Heat is prominent on the High Lord’s cheeks, tan skin flushed with colour and you’re all so sensitive but needing of more that release is swift and fulfilling. Bright flashes of pleasure zipping down your thighs, bursts of heat fluttering in your lower belly, warm-pink flame heating and heating until you’re boiling and bubbling over.

Rhys grits his teeth, likely trying to cope with the pleasure of Feyre’s orgasm, and you can’t help yourself.

You lean forward, cunt still seated on the High Lady’s mouth, your palms sloping up his well-muscled chest to wrap over his shoulder to push your lips together, tongue licking against him, tasting him, devouring him. The High Lord’s control splinters, then fractures entirely, a groan of pure, male pleasure delivered to your mouth as he releases deep inside his mate. You want it to be as drawn out as possible, for him to fill her up as much as he can, until she’s dripping.

It’s only when he’s panting, breathless and with his head lowered that you know he’s finished.

Teeth prod into your lower lip, fresh arousal dripping from your cunt, cleaned away by Feyre’s tongue. Her fingers drum ticklishly over your thighs, knowing what you’ve been waiting for. You can practically see the smug, satisfied grin on her rosey lips.

The combined effort of the both of you has you taking her place on the bed in mere seconds, lying on your back with a blinking Rhys now positioned between your thighs. Feyre mounts your mouth like she’s descending onto her throne, thighs parted and facing you so she can run her fingers through your hair.

Rhysand freezes when he understands what’s going on. Then his warrior’s hands have shackled your ankles and you’re roughly dragged down the bed, swept out from under your mate and you whine, crying out and reaching for her. But there’s heat in his eyes, a wicked smile on his mouth, mischief and hunger twinkling between the starlight. “I did all the work, darling,” he rumbles, the words rough and gravelly from his chest. “The least you can do is let me watch.”

You flush as you’re repositioned: half-way up the bed with Feyre hovering over your face, your mouth open and her legs spread; further up the bed is Rhys, gazing down at you so he can watch every stroke of your tongue, every drip of his cum that’s mixed with Feyre’s own orgasm that you collect on your lips, tasting in your mouth.

“I should have known what you two were planning,” Rhys drawls, cock hard against his stomach from watching the show. He’s eaten his release out of Feyre before but it’s different watching someone else do it. It’s different having a mate to watch do it. “So dirty indeed.”

“And it was all her idea,” Feyre muses proudly from atop her perch. “You were so shy to show it to me,” she coos.

“Looks like she’s a wicked one.” Violet eyes flick to Feyre. “She’ll rival you for your mischief.”

“I think you mean she’ll rival you. You’re the dirty one.”

Their eyes simultaneously drop, and you flush beneath their attention, hair spread out messily across the mattress, licking Feyre’s cunt whenever you please. Rhys’ fingers trail across your forehead, playing with a few stray strands of hair. “You like that? Tasting us together?”

You moan softly, licking up and circling Feyre’s clit, causing her to moan.

Butterflies start fluttering anew when Rhys wraps his hand around his cock, still achingly hard, cum beginning to drizzle down his tip. Your temperature spikes, mouth watering further. Rhys’ eyes twinkle, his mouth curving before he’s shifting onto his knees. “You know,” he muses, looming so comparatively high above you while Feyre keeps you pinned to the mattress, “let’s find out how dirty she is.”

Your thighs have to squeeze together at the blatant lust in his voice, clit pulsing as you rub your legs together.

Violet eyes meet your own, and you shiver. Rhys grins. “You look pretty happy, down there.” You moan, licking at her hungrily, wanting her to stop hovering and to finally just sit. His hand continues stroking himself to the sign, up and down, slowly building his pleasure again. There isn’t much time you need to wait—you’re all so stimulated, so sensitive to touch. Rhys has to grit his teeth through the first series of strokes before the tension is being released and he’s panting again, muscles flexing in his stomach and forearms.

“Think you can take some more?” Rhys groans, and you watch with desperate eyes as a bead of cum slips over his head. “Answer me.”

You nod your head. “More,” you pant, watching him intently. Rhys’ eyes nearly roll, but then yours nearly cross as he shifts his hips, the tip of his cock nearly bumping into Feyre’s clit. He’s intending to finish straight into your mouth.

You can’t help it, then. Your hand lifts from the bed and trails down your body, fingers slipping between your thighs. It’s a mix between painful and perfectly oversensitive, clit hard and puffy beneath your digits that slide right down your centre, two fingers sinking inside yourself and curling.

It doesn’t take long from there.

“Gods, you’re such a good girl,” Feyre praises, biting her lip as she palms her breasts, cupping them and thumbing across her nipples. “Isn’t she perfect, Rhys?”

“So perfect.” He agrees. “So dirty.”

You whimper in protest but Rhys cocks a brow and you shut up. He smirks. “So good, and so obedient, isn’t she?”

“Perfect for us,” Feyre agrees, moaning as she circles her hips faintly, seeking the attention of your tongue which swiftly returns to attend to her, flicking over her clit and licking up her centre. “A perfect little mate to play with.”

Rhys groans, the noise rumbling in his chest as his orgasm finds him at last, release pouring from his tip, shooting down between your lips and filling you up. His hip buck, his fingers flexing around his cock as pleasure pulses through his body, his eyes shutting tight as his muscles tremble.

The tip of your finger drags back up over your clit and you come undone.

Feyre watches, utterly content, as her two mates reach completion around her. She can just make out your eyes, half-rolled as your own high filters through your blood. Then there’s Rhys, whose hand is shaking as he pumps himself, hips seemingly moving of their own accord as he tries to keep himself going for as long as possible, throwing himself into overstimulation for the sake of your pleasure.

She sits happily on your mouth when he’s done, his blue-black hair falling against her shoulder as hot breath fans down her front.

How lucky they are to have found such a sweet, mischievous little mate to match them.

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

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @slut4acotar @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644 @lilah-asteria @nighttimemoonlover @mrsjna @acoazlove

feysand taglist: @girlmadeofavocados @zara-aliza08

#feysand x reader #feysand x reader smut #dizzying kisses #feysand x you #feysand #feysand x you smut

428 notes · View notes

throneofsapphics · 2 years ago

Note

could i pls request feysand x reader, where they meet tamlin at some meeting/party and he finds out y/n exist and gets mad at the whole relationship. Imagine reader punches him for all he did to feyre and feysand are so proud🥹🥹

that’s our girl

Feysand x Reader

Summary: Reader loses her temper.

Warnings: light violence

A/N: thank you for the request!

Relations between the Spring and Night court had … settled over the years, to tolerable levels.

It was some sort of summit for the various courts, each bringing a small delegation. Business during the day, gatherings at night. Designed to hopefully ease some tensions, and create a more unified Prythian.

You stayed out of the meetings - thankfully, you found the dreadfully boring. No amount of convincing or ‘encouragement,’ could get you into a council room.

The first night, you stuck close to Rhys and Feyre, carefully watching the room. Even if you weren’t in close proximity to them, their scents were entwined with yours, and yours with theirs.

Inevitably, the three of you crossed paths with the High Lord of the Spring Court. Your eyes clocked his every movement. His nostrils flared, looking between the three of you as the pieces clicked together.

“One wasn’t enough for you, Rhysand?” He drawled, ignoring both you and Feyre. Your temper flared. Feyre wrapped an arm around your shoulders, gently tugging you into her side. The action didn’t go unnoticed. It was necessarily to protect you, but to keep you from doing something rash. “Or for you,” he sneered at Feyre.

It wasn’t the words that set you off, but the tone and nasty look in his eyes. Everything he’d done to Feyre, all she and Rhys had told you.

You moved so quickly nobody had time to react as your fist connection with his face. The satisfying crunch of his nose breaking overrode any pain in your hand. A shield of Rhys’s separated the two of you before Tamlin could react. The shock on his features brought a grin to your face. A taunting one, daring him to hit back. He took a step closer, towards the shield, but Rhys sent him a look that promised a slow, long death and he paused before turning on his heel and heading for the other side of the room, as far away as possible.

“You promised you’d behave yourself,” Rhys murmured.

“I behaved adequately.” You countered, narrowing your eyes.

Feyre had already taken your hand, her magic healing the small bruises left behind. She tried to look disappointed in you, but failed miserably. Rhys did a slightly better job, but you could sense the pride rolling from him in waves.

“That’s my girl,” he said it so quietly you almost missed it.

“That’s our girl,” Feyre corrected.

#feysand x reader #poly!feysand x reader #feysand x y/n #poly!feysand x y/n #feyre archeron x y/n #feyre archeron x reader #rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #acotar fic #acotar x reader

408 notes · View notes

the-daydreaming-show · 3 months ago

Text

The Gods Has Spoken (Poly!Feysand x Reader)

SUMMARY: You were a mere mortal, daughter of no one. You were sold into slavery by your father. Furthermore, you were a courtesan on the pirate islands, known as The Pirate's Bride. And then you were condemned to work for life in the volcanoes for killing a free man as a slave. From there, you conquered Slaver's Bay, having seen dragons and a new version of yourself born in the lava.

Now you go to the Night Court, in search of an alliance that is easy to fall into nothingness, because of looking for your childhood friend Feyre Archeron.

Where you were Feyre's childhood friend. A couple years older than her, you took her under your wing and taught her how to survive. Now you are both leaders of your lands and your causes, and those may not be compatible.

Feyre already has her peace, and you are about to start your war.

CHARACTER(S): Poly!Feysand x Fem!Reader, Feyre Archeron x Fem!Reader, Rhysand x Fem!Reader.

WARNING(S): Reader is female. Reader is described as having long hair. Reader is given hair color, but it is clarified that it is artificial and has natural unidentified color below. Misunderstandings and slight miscommunication (in my defense, it is justified). War. Slavery. Prostitution. ACOTAR Canon sh*t.

AO3

Tag List is OPEN.

(0.) PREFACE

SUMMARY: You make some last arrangements before leaving for the Night Court. Or. You make a stupid decision that will change everything.

(1.) THREADS OF TIME.

Ever since you arrived in the Night Court, you've avoided awkward confrontation and the thought of going out of your way to talk to Feyre. You've barely looked at her in an attempt to avoid facing the very thing you came here for. But finally, one evening, after a flight over the mountains with Balerion, you come face to face with the past and present you've been avoiding.

Or.

After not seeing each other for over a decade, you and Feyre finally meet in the woods again, but nothing is the same, not even the two of you. You make an agreement to try to find a balance, and you fail miserably.

(2.) EMBRACING ILLUSIONS

After realizing that the alliance won't happend, you decide to take a new approach to what's left of you visit, while Feyre decides it's time for you to have a serious talk. Or. Where you and Feyre get too carried away by what could have been, and yo ignore what you know will be, just to live in an illusion a little longer.

(3.) DREAMS MADE HEAVY.

It's the celebration of Nyx's first birthday. Or Your time in illusion is running out and the past is fading, unable to bear its own weight any longer.

(4.) THE SKYFALL

Your time is up.

TAG LIST: @pinksmellslikelove @saltedcoffeescotch @raisam @asweetblueberry2 @kabekusa @throneofsapphics @makayla2036789 @jojodojo02 @kooterz @rcarbo1 @whyucloudingmymind @hjgdhghoe @minbeatriz16 @azzydaddy

#acotar x reader #acotar fanfiction #feyre archeron x reader #rhysand x reader #feysand x reader #poly!feysand x reader #feyre archeron #rhysand #acotar fic #feysand #friends to lovers #strangers to lovers #second chance love #fated mates #mates #dragons

263 notes · View notes

manicmanuscription · 2 days ago

Text

Exhibit

PolySJM Week: Day Five

Prompt: Memories and History

Pairings: Feysand / Reader

Summary: You're the last one left in the inner circle, taking a weekly visit to the museum.

Word Count: 2225

Tags: Extreme angst, no like, a lot of angst, hurt and barely any comfort, author hurt her own feelings. Inner circle is all dead. briefly smutty memories but explicit, 18++

PolySJM Week 2025 Masterlist | Acotar Masterlist

My shoes clicked softly against the hardwood floors, yet each step echoed throughout my entire being, the sound deafening in the quiet halls and a sense of dread bled into my heart with every movement.

Being here was suffocating and I tried to remind myself to breathe, to force air into my lungs. Yet I tortured myself with this feeling every Friday, at one p.m. With tentative steps I reached the next room, the open floor plan allowing everything to be displayed properly and I halted in front of one of the clear cases.

My heart constricted at seeing the matching set of jewelry. A custom set commissioned by Rhysand for Feyre and I. Small glittering black diamonds fashioned into the shapes of small stars and tiny pearls all strung up elaborately to cascade down the earlobe.

The earrings sat next to their complimentary tiara's, the highest point also forming into a star. I squeezed my eyes shut for a moment at the sight. It had been a mating gift, one of many after the elaborate ceremony he planned. The earrings had been one of my favorite pieces in my vanity and had seen the sun so often my mate had regularly taken it in for cleaning and upkeep services.

Though when they stopped pumping air into their lungs and their heart gave out from the extent of their injuries the sight of it quickly made me want to tear my skin off.

Lifeless eyes and bloodsoaked satin flashed before my vision and I gripped my walking cane so hard I swore you could hear tiny wood pieces splintering.

A few hundred years later andI could still hear Nesta’s anguished cries and Mor’s horrified whimpers as we rushed to save them.

Too late. Too late. Too late.

I could still feel Cassian’s grip on my arms as he forcefully pulled me away from the sight of the gruesome scene, everyone yelling over one another as it all dissolved to chaos. The only thing that existed in that moment was them, the sight of their limp bodies into my mind forever, that agonizing pain in my chest as the bond shattered with their last breath.

Madja wouldn’t even tell me what had truly happened to them. I found out, of course. It took me weeks but eventually I found out. That knowledge nearly sent me spiraling over the closest cliff, and the memory had that ragged bond in my chest stirring painfully.

I forced myself away from the display case and ventured further into the Inner Circle’s exhibit. Blinking the horrid memories away as I passed a few of the other cases, letters between The Spymaster and Highlord, various weapons, sculptures, depictions of great battles my family fought in and other heroic deeds, even some shattered siphons from when my friends were youthful and untrained, a replica of the mirror the General used to capture the death god Lanthys, then a replica of the sword used to slain him. -the real thing had been given to their daughter- great paintings depicting the Battle of Hybern and the Three Sister’s once human in all their glory. Each piece a living reminder of the legends that were my family until eventually I paused in front of my greatest torment.

Feyre’s last unfinished piece was sitting in a storage unit a few blocks away, sometimes I’d sit there wondering what it was meant to be, my sneaky little mate having kept it a secret until she meant to reveal it on our anniversary, it tortured me for years after their deaths knowing she’d never finished it and never would, yet this canvas in front of me…

Feyre and I were sitting on lavish chairs facing forward as Rhysand stood behind us with an arm on each of our shoulders, a coy smile playing on his lips. Even though I was starting to forget a lot of things with my age, I remember that day like it was yesterday.

“Stop trying to make me laugh!” I scolded Rhys mentally. His laughter echoed down the bond and I whirled around in my seat to face him, still keeping my hand firmly intertwined with Feyre’s. A reprimand on my tongue even as I struggled to control my giddy smile.

The painter gently reminded me to sit still and Rhysand smirked. “Yes darling sit still we’re trying to get our portrait taken after all.” I rolled my eyes, sending a harsh wave of annoyance down the bond. “You’re the one distracting me!” I protested even as I faced the painter once more.

“I. am. not.” Rhysand objected, his smooth voice falling on my ears, the sound of it a balm to my soul even though he was getting on my last nerve. Three seconds passed before another image of the three of us flashed in front of my eyes, my lovely wife was all wrapped up in pretty silk tied to our bed while I had the pleasure of tasting her, my tongue circling her clit as my husband kissed up her thighs before reaching her breasts. Her soft moans filled the room and- the image dissolved with a brush of Feyre’s magic and she glared at both of us and huffed slightly. “That is enough!” She snapped angrily, a faint blush crept up her cheeks and she adjusted herself on her chair.

“The both of you are behaving like children! We wouldn’t even be in this position if you” She sent me a pointed glare. “hadn’t insisted on a live portrait.”

The artist gave us a confused glance at our conversation flowing in and out of mental or verbal speaking but returned to their canvas quickly not wanting to somehow upset the powerful leaders of the Night Court.

“I thought it would be fun!” I whispered back and Rhysand chuckled softly leaning down to give Feyre and I a quick peck on the cheek. “She truly had no idea how boring these things are. I'm just trying to liven it up a little.”

“Well quit it. Because you’re distracting me, our mate, the artist and making this whole ordeal last longer than it needs to.”

Rhysand winced as her harsh words dug into his mental walls and I threw a look over my shoulder sticking my tongue out at him before returning my gaze forward. Feyre gave my hand a warning squeeze accompanied with her signature glare and I muttered an apology.

Another few agonizing minutes passed before another image flashed before my eyes. I was slowly removing the silk dress from my body, stepping out from the expensive fabric in nothing but lingerie, Feyre trailed her hands up my spine from behind me a dark look in her eyes watching as Rhys leaned down to hungrily claim my lips with his own. Soft manicured nails tugged at my hair harshly eliciting a soft moan from my lips and she turned my head to the side to give our mate more access and Rhys trailed those kisses down to the side of my neck–

“That is it!” I hissed. Standing up from my chair and storming out of the room as I fought to get my arousal under control.

Rhysand just leaned down to Feyre’s ear. “I told you I could get her to break.” She just rubbed a tattooed hand over her temples, a small -annoyed- smirk playing on her lips as she stood as well.

The memory faded and I brushed the tears away with an aged hand. Feyre ultimately finished the painting by taking the reference photo from the memory of the artist we hired, and reimbursed the poor girl for wasting her time.

A wave of anger rose within me, I would never not be mad at them for leaving me to raise our child alone with that stupid fucking pact. Sure I had our family’s help but they had their own children and spouses to attend to as well and eventually old age or injury picked them all off until it was just me. The shattered bond in my chest ached at the thought refusing the anger and sadness that suffocated me so strongly a wave of pain almost had me doubling over in the exhibit.

I knew I was starting to go, forgetting things and losing time. I had to start walking with a cane and my hair turned fully white ages ago. Even my hearing was almost nonexistent. Not a lot of fae got to be this age but I was stubborn, refusing to go until I was sure my son, nieces and nephews, and court were ok.

Sometimes I could feel my mates, brushing their hand with mine as I hobbled down the streets of Velaris, whispering things to me in the wind that I could not decipher. Sometimes I could feel one of my friends, urging me to relax or even teasing me from realms apart.

It was getting more frequent and I knew my loves would be coming to collect me from this realm soon.

When they did I would never, ever stop yelling at them for what they did to me. They broke their promises leaving me with a temperamental and newly made High Lord who was just a little too young to rule and a grieving court. I sat down on one of the museum’s benches as a cluster of people entered the exhibit, the clock striking one fifteen.

My favorite part of the day.

The tour guide spoke softly as the fae walked around the room, awe lining their faces. No one recognized me from the paintings and they were all too young to realize anyways, I hadn’t ventured to any political or public events in years, not ever since I broke my hip on some stairs in the Hewn City and my son all but banned me. Just as protective as his father.

The guide spoke about my family with quiet reverence, telling stories about countless battles and wars won, treaty’s built. She talked about victory over Koschei and the Illyrians unrest. She talked about the political wins of my mates, she talked of the Lady of Death and her Valkyries.

She then spoke of me, telling the love story of my mates and I, put together from long dead witness statements, letters, and even stories spilled from the old Inner Circle.

The guests moved about the room excitedly, pointing at old artifacts and statues. It was always strange to hear my life and my family’s lives from another person, one who wasn’t there but had studied us. My nieces and nephew’s loved to hear the stories I told when they were young, but sometimes…it was nice to hear about it from someone else, I was the only one left who truly remembered what happened after all and even those were slowly going.

It helped me remember. Remember Cassian’s booming laugh long faded, Azriels quiet reassurance, chess games between Nesta and Amren, Elain’s garden long untouched by her own loving hands.

The perspective shift was amusing to me and war and peace raged in my heart at the memories the tour guide returned to me with her intricately weaved tales. I missed my family, missed the way our home came alive with their presence.

Every fiber in my body ached and a stray tear slipped as the guide eventually moved onto my mate's demise and the betrayal of our ‘allies’

There wasn’t time, even if we spent eons together it would have never been enough.

Eventually the crowd cleared as she concluded this part of her tour and moved to another exhibit. Leaving only one person in the room with me. Nyx strode across the room in just a few steps sitting on the bench beside me. “I nearly had a heart attack when Simone told me she lost you. Again.”

“Why must you torture yourself like this Mother?” He asked, placing a comforting hand on my wobbled knee as he took a pained glance at the room. I didn’t respond, just took a chance to study his face doing my best to commit it to my weathered mind.. He was getting old, stress lines making him seem even older and being a High Lord and a new father certainly didn’t help.

Gods he looked so much like them. With his soft freckles and violet eyes. He most certainly had Feyre’s nose.

I smiled, another ghostly wisp of a warm touch running along my spine and I knew it would be soon. I could feel that knowledge all the way down to my weary and ancient bones. Just as I knew Nyx would be fine, him and his cousin’s had been ruling for quite some time and I’d never been prouder of them and I would finally get the chance to confront my mates for I had hundreds of years of grievances to settle with them. But I would also get to hold them close once more, press kisses to their shoulders and tell them stories of the male our son had become.

I would be able to cherish them once more, to hold them close once again, to hear their voices and see their smiles.

I would be able to see my family once again and that peace would settle my soul for eternity.

#poly+sjmweek2025 #polyweek #angst #feysand x reader #feyre x reader #rhysand x reader #acotar fanfiction #acotar fic #a lot of angst #poly+sjmweek2025d5 #brief smut

76 notes · View notes

avifaunaa · 1 month ago

Text

stars blind [ they fall and leave the sky ] [ f.a.+ r ] [ pt.2 ]

Authors Note: I’m so incredibly glad everyone seemed to enjoy the first part of this series! If anyone has requested to be put onto a tag list for this series, I’ll try to remember to add it in. Also to add: apologies for the shorter update -- this is meant to be a bridge between One and Three, so it fills in some gaps.

Masterlist

PART ONE | PART THREE

Pairing: Feyre Archeron x fem!reader x Rhysand / Platonic!Inner Circle x fem!reader

Summary: Feyre and Rhysand find their mating marks that are duplicates to your own — perfect matches — and have a discussion what that means. Amren and Mor make a decision together. Windweaver hides.

Content Warnings: Mating bonds + discussion thereof [ reminder: this is canon in nature, but i take liberties and play around with mating bonds thus deepening the meaning of this AU ], Court politics, mentions of Windweaver’s past trauma that is not directly gone into this chapter, cliffhanger [ sorry ]

Word Count: ~3.7k

You wait in the spacious entry way of the home of Iris — a chirpy blonde High Fae who was incredibly well known for watching children for a fair price while parents worked or tended to other matters.

Mor had been the one to give her a place for you �� it was increasingly difficult to get into the daycare and the fact that Mor put in a word for you was a kindness you could never pay back.

You were the last to arrive as you usually were — but Iris never seemed to mind. She understood your position in this new world and was accommodating and it was once more a kindness that you couldn’t afford.

You refused to look at yourself in the large mirror hanging above the entrance to the side. Now that you knew what was engraved into your skin, you would never be able fully hide it. Or escape whatever bond thrummed on the other side.

And yet you felt nothing. Nothing but empty black loneliness when you reached out to where your mother told you mating bonds usually rested in that part of the soul, in that part of the heart, in that part of the mind.

Nothing was there, and that was perhaps the best part of it even when it stung like nettle. It meant that whoever the Cauldron found you worthy to mate with was unaware and uninterested in a bond.

Until they found their own marks, you supposed.

“Here she is!” Iris sang, walking out with Astraea sleeping soundly, drooling on her shoulder.

“Oh, she’s knocked out,” you said with a smile, heart warming soundly at the sight of your daughter. Black hair and pale skin — features of your mother, her eyes belonging to a man long since gone.

“We painted today,” Iris told you as she made the exchange, sliding Astra into your hold. The tiny little thing wrapped arms around your shoulders, snuggling in close and sighing but not waking a second. “Next time you come in I’ll give it to you. Our High Lady will be coming in soon to teach a class.”

“The High Lady?” You didn’t hide your surprise. She hadn’t been seen out since the birth of her son — unless it was to walk through the Rainbow. You knew little around the events of the little one’s birth, other than rumors about wings and pain.

“Oh yes. She decided she’s going to come help out with the children — and bring Nyx, too. He needs socialization with other children his age. But it seems Astra is the closest to it right now.”

You chewed the inside of your cheek, a nervous tick unsettling the heart within your chest.

"Oh, that will be wonderful," you say out loud instead of voicing your fears. You had yet to be approached by the High Lord or his Lady about your heritage and Mor and Amren had both been as welcoming as members of the Inner Circle can afford to be to newcomers.

You exchanged a few more pleasantries, your payment is given to Iris, and you are quick to whisk your sleepy daughter off. You are greeted by the chilly air and your scarf does little to keep the bite from your cheeks that comes with the breeze.

The walk to your rented apartment is five minutes from Iris' home and it was nice. You felt like you could easily get everywhere within easy walking distance and not have to use your magic to speed your walking along.

Not that you would have used your magic at all.

You walk up the side stairs on the building, climbing up and up and up until you reach the third floor. Your door was the first on the right and the bulky key was heavy and cold in your jacket's pocket when you pulled it free and pushed it into the key hole, twisting, unlocking, opening.

The apartment was nearly bare. It was furnished with the help of Mor -- thanks to her kindness to you. But it was basic and non-matching. You weren't here all the time -- either you spent time here with your daughter or slept. You preferred to take Astra out to explore the world and enjoy her surroundings while simultaneously exposing her to new things.

Astra's room was the most decorated, the most furnished, and the most cared for. You laid her down in her bed and got her dressed in her pajamas, all the while she hardly woke. She stuffed her thumb in her mouth and sighed as you pulled the covers over her.

You started toward the bathroom, removing earrings and clothes as you went.

That's the mating mark of a High Lord.

You find yourself standing in front of the dingy mirror in the bathroom — which was otherwise beautifully designed. Clean. Better than what you were once used to after Armantha’s takeover.

But when had it appeared? Mating marks were incredibly rare -- to the point that they were often forgotten about in history. They were connected to the more biological parts of Fae -- back when mating was more led by survival and the need to breed. Only those with very old bloodlines had mating marks anymore; bloodlines that predate much of even Old Prythian.

You pushed yourself off the sink, still tracing the outline you found yourself memorizing as you leaned over the tub to get the water started. It felt no different on your skin, had no way of showing itself other than its appearance.

You waited for the water to fill all the way to the top with near boiling heat. You never wanted to touch cold water again — even to drink. You drank it warm or you drank tea. You sank into the tub and shivered as the heat encased your skin and filled all the chilly, empty parts of you.

To have a mark that now only really ran through the lines of High Lords . . . that did not bode well on your end. Mostly because you've seen how angry High Fae males get when females have already been mated once before, but because it would force you to reveal your location to the very people you've been ensuring never find you.

Rhysand was frowning at her, and Feyre did not particularly enjoy it. She was rubbing some cream into her hands and trying to ignore him altogether.

He was all in a fuss lately and as much as she wanted to know what was getting to him this time, she figured he'd tell her if he really wanted to.

She settled under the covers with her book half-opened, getting comfortable against her lower back. After Nyx even with Nesta's wish, she still retained an ache from her pregnancy. It was manageable but not entirely easy to get rid of.

"Feyre, darling," her husband starts, "when did you get that?"

Feyre turns the page of her book before she humors him, tilting her face up. He's sat on the edge of the bed eyeing her, purple eyes twinkling with shock.

"The book?" she asked slyly, shutting it. "Nesta lent it to me. She said--"

Rhysand rolled his eyes. "I do not need to know what sort of filth your sister has you read when I'm not there to chaperone. I can't begin to think."

"It's a female on female romance, with sex."

Rhysand paused, blinked as if shocked, then rubbed his face with his hand. "We will address that at a later time. I have questions I think I will want answers too." He then pointed slightly to her left. "I meant that, just under your ear, of course."

Feyre reached her fingers up to trace under her ear as Rhysand had pointed out to her. She felt nothing but her studded earrings, done sometime after Nyx’s birth. “I don’t feel anything,” she said slowly, raising one of her brows at her mate.

He got to his feet and walked around the side of the bed and held out his palm. “Come with me, darling.”

Feyre hated to get out of bed now that she had gotten comfortable, but she put her book aside anyway and took his hand. He gently tugged her to the mirror on the far corner of the room, twirling her in a circle.

Feyre laughed at him, a bright smile lighting up hear features as he swung her to his front, arms wrapped around her just under her chest. He pressed a warm kiss to her cheek as they locked eyes in the mirror.

“My beautiful Feyre darling,” he said. His gaze was so soft, a rare sight that not many in the lands got to see. He reached up and began moving her hair away from the side of her head he had previously pointed out to her.

“Mm.” She watched him lazily, fingers tracing designs into his arm. She stopped her playing when she noticed what he had initially wanted her to see.

“That’s new,” she said, pulling herself out of his arms so she could lean forward and peer at the twirls and markings that cornered themselves behind her pointed ear. “I don’t think I’ve had that before. Did I?”

He shook his head, rubbing his jawline. “It’s . . . No. It’s an old magic, attached usually to a Fae with an old bloodline when they become mated.”

Feyre stared at him. “Okay,” she said slowly. “But I didn’t get it when we first mated.”

“You wouldn’t have, no,” Rhysand agreed, staring at the mark nervously. “I think . . . Well, I have an idea already on what it could mean and why you have it.”

Feyre turned around and bit her lip, peering at him with just as much nervousness. “I’d love to hear your idea, because if it’s connected to bloodlines that means it’s connected to yours somehow.”

“It connects very old bloodlines, I should say,” he told her, scratching his head as he thought over his words, “From a very old time when we still ran on pure instinct rather than reason. A time where magic was more alive, and it helped us. It would connect bloodlines that were stronger, more resilient.”

Feyre blinked at him. “Are you saying that you’re from one of those lines?”

“All High Lord families are. Many high society families are, actually. It’s how we got as far as we did. The marking wouldn’t have appeared on you initially because you were a human, once, and the old magic that runs in bloodlines like mine is thought by scholars to be being bred out over time.”

Feyre crosses her arms, resisting the urge to reach up and scratch the skin there. It suddenly itched now that she knew she had a shiny new marking there. “That makes sense. So it’s genetic. But it still makes no sense why I have it now.”

“Because I do believe there’s another factor at play.” He folded his hands, rubbing them together and not meeting her eyes.

“Rhys.” She reached her own hand out, hoping her touch soothed him. “Together. We can face whatever this is together — and you can tell me anything.”

“I think we have a third mate out there, somewhere,” he admitted quietly. “This is not a desire I have but a theory. If this potential mate has come into close contact at some point, their scent would have activated the other’s genetic magic in their bloodstream.”

Feyre breathed out through her nostrils, taking in this information carefully. “Old magic that has a play in with genetics. I’m your true mate, but there’s also another one out there for us that shares a bond? Wouldn’t we have known?”

“It’s . . . different with the old magic. It lies dormant,” Rhysand explained as he led his wife back to bed and sat next to her on the mattress. “It only activates when a suitable mate has been scented. Like I said, it ties back to when we were living on baser instincts and our mating bonds were less decided by fate and the Cauldron.”

“So my mating bond to you is different than the mating bond we have with this person?” Feyre clarified, not angry, simply confused.

“In how it is formed carnally only, it will never change my bond with you nor will it make me desire you any less,” Rhysand assured her firmly, cupping her cheek and rubbing the jutted bone, beautiful and perfect in his eyes. “All I know is that we have a third, but because we’ve been out of the public for months . . .”

“It could have been anyone our friends’ scents dragged in,” Feyre finished, understanding. She felt comforted by Rhysand’s words but . . . But now that she allowed the words to fixate in her mind, she couldn’t help but lack anxiety in regard to her stability with Rhysand, only . . . Curiosity. Perhaps a need to understand.

Rhysand smiled sadly. “Yes. And whoever lies on the other end of the bond won’t be able to form a connection to us like we have to one another until we can . . . Consummate the bond, not unless we want to use our Daementi powers on them.”

“Is that more old magic at work?”

Rhysand nodded at her, and Feyre bit her lip. She thought over the entire binder of information Rhysand just threw on top of her. But honestly — thinking it over, it didn’t create an ugly animal of jealousy to think of their unnamed mate with Rhys. Or with her. Or with her and Rhys.

It was a lot, and maybe they needed to sleep a bit over it. To digest what this will mean for them as a couple, and for their dynamic, and for their family.

But Feyre’s gut told her nothing terrible could come from this — not if her mating with Rhysand was anything to go on.

Amren and Mor stared at each other three hours after Windweaver had made a hasty escape from the tavern, leaving them in her dust.

Rita had pretty much closed up around the two of them. She lived upstairs and Mor was someone who was trusted with a key if they stayed longer than Rita stayed open.

It was just them at their table, still sitting in complete silence as though afraid to speak aloud what they had experienced hours ago. What Windweaver had experienced.

“We should tell them,” Amren said for the fifth time as Mor brought the entire bottle of wine to her lips and drank.

“Why? I mean, I agree. Nothing comes from keeping information from our High Lord and Lady,” Mor said, head tilting back over the chair, “But do we want to put this stress on them? They were just discussing coming back out in the world. Feyre wants to take Nyx to meet other kids.”

“She has a mating mark of status. Old status, but status,” Amren ground out, and Mor could almost hear her canines gnashing against her other teeth.

“Yes, this is true.” Mor takes her feet off the table and leans close to Amren. “But do you know what bringing attention to this might mean? What it could do to her?”

Amren spun a ring — one of many and of little value to her, likely from Rhysand back when she was still a darker force much more dangerous than this one — on her index finger, long nail unbreaking against the metal.

“There are consequences to whatever actions we plan to take,” the darker haired female acknowledged begrudgingly. “But I dislike the ones that come with keeping this from Rhysand and Feyre.”

Mor hated to agree, but she couldn’t find it in her to disagree. She wanted Windweaver’s safety put at the top of their to-do list, but they’ll have to find a way to ensure that without keeping their High Lord and Lady in the dark about this.

“Fine,” Mor said, “we’ll bring it up. Tonight?”

Amren stole the bottle from her blonde friend, taking a swig from it. “If the girl’s still awake. She seems to go to bed early these days after the prince was born.”

Mor tapped her fingers along the tabletop. “Fine, tomorrow then.”

“Tomorrow,” Amren agreed.

They stayed to finish the bottle, falling into a silence of two respected comrades and friends.

You wake with a gasp as sweat soaked your forehead and dripped down your temples like raindrops.

You clutched your chest where the weight you felt in your nightmare had struck you and glanced around you rapidly as the heartbeat in your ears timed with the feeling in your chest.

Enclosed walls, four. A wood flooring with a soft rug in the middle of the room. A soft thick quilt, patched, that you gave birth in and carried your daughter around in for two long years before carting her here in it.

Not in the Spring Court. Away from the sickly smell of fresh flowers in bloom all year around and constant lukewarm weather that was too little for you to feel alive.

It was still dark outside, but you could see the hints of dawn beginning to reveal itself over the horizon. No sun.

Your favorite time of day.

You pushed the sheets and quilt off, pressing the heels of your hands to your eyes and sighing shakily as you gazed out the window for a moment to just take in the view.

You eventually got out of bed entirely; if you didn't you were at risk for not getting out at all for the rest of the day. That was not a type of day you could afford to have.

You went to the kitchen and started preparing breakfast for Astra, and while the eggs cooked you got her up. "S'ello Mama," she garbled.

"Hi, baby," you greeted, kissing her forehead and smiling warmly as she stretched her little arms out. She blinked sleepily at you. "Eggs?"

"Eggs," you agreed, holding out your hand in offer. She looked at it with hesitation as she normally did when it came to touch; she was not a child who welcomed it on a normal scale and the first two and a half years of her life play a large role in that.

She finally deemed it acceptable to place her tiny hand in yours and you smile at her, guiding her into the kitchen where smoke was now rising in the pan. "Oh no," Astra dolled.

"Shit." You set her in her chair and race toward the burnt crisps that were once eggs sizzling in the pan. You looked forlornly at the charred bits and dumped them in the sink, and instead turned to your daughter.

"Do you want to go to Caspian's for breakfast, Astra?"

Immediately the little girl's eyes lit up and she attempted to stand in her chair, "Cassie! Cassie," she garbled as you quickly went over to grab her and set her down like she wanted.

"Okay," you laughed quietly. "Lets' get you and myself dressed and we'll go see Cassie."

One hour, a toddler trying not to crawl away from every outfit you picked out, and a faceful of makeup later, you found yourself walking down the street with a babbling Astra in your arms. She was fired up now that you were well and truly on your way to her favorite place to eat.

"Oh, really?" you asked her as you passed the glass displays in the large windows. She then stuck her finger at the particular pastry that was always displayed and remained her tried and true favorite.

You opened the door and pushed your way in, causing the bell above the entrance to ring out your arrival. It was a busier morning than usual -- you tend to come before the rush so that Astra doesn't get overwhelmed, but for some reason today you weren't able to beat such a rush.

You were behind two people; both of them were huddled together and had a small babe between them. A male and female, whispering to the giggling, pudgy faced youngling.

"Windweaver!" Cassie called as she came at a brisk drift out of the kitchen, covered in sugar and flour, "Welcome! And little Astra, too!"

Just as you made to greet her back, you were cut short by the couple turning around and looking you in the eyes.

"Windweaver?" The High Lord of the Night Court repeated softly, tilting his head in interest while his wife narrowed her gaze at you.

TAG LIST: @motorsp0rt , @lifetobeareader , @hjgdhghoe , @mystirica-blog , @skyler129

PART THREE

#acotar #feyre acotar x reader #feyre archeron x reader #rhysand x reader #feysand x reader #fanfiction #inner circle

200 notes · View notes

potatoplace · 6 months ago

Text

We Can Do This

Feysand x Reader

kinktober day 2 | one night stand, threesome, pregnancy

kinktober '24 masterlist | Poly!ACOTAR x Reader Masterlist

We Can Fix This (part 2) | We Can Do This Together (Part 3)

Story Summary: You meet Feyre and Rhys at your friend Emerie's wedding, and enjoy a long, pleasurable night with the married couple. A month later, though, a certain stick turns pink.

Warnings: Talk of an emotionally abusive ex (very brief), smut, smut, smut, 3k words of smut, pregnancy

Words: ~5.1k

Author's Note: ahhhh I love this one so much. I'm terrified of being pregnant and having a child to raise but if Feysand were the coparents? I miiight reconsider. Also. I am still so obsessed with these two, I don't think it will ever end. And also I wrote waaaay more smut than I planned. Like. I know it's kinktober. But this was supposed to be like a 3k word fic and instead it's 3k of smut and 2k of after smut consequences. Still. I love it!! I hope you guys like it!

18+ only pls

🤍💜🤍🩵🤍

The wedding was lovely, and the brides were so, so happy. Emerie, your closest friend at work, had gotten married to lovely, kind blonde named Mor.

Their ceremony was beautiful, complete with heartfelt vows that had you shedding a few tears, and seeing the two have their first married kiss made you long to have the same joy.

Until your brain kicked in, and you remembered that you were in no way ready to be in a relationship.

Your last boyfriend had been an absolute ass, attempting to control everything from what you wore and ate to who you spent your time with.

Emerie had been so helpful in getting you out of that relationship, managing to talk sense into your love-addled brain. You had booked it, and moved into your own apartment- the first time you had ever lived alone.

That was nearly a year ago at this point, but you were still working through your insecurities and inability to trust.

So, no relationships for you for the foreseeable future.

The dancing had already started, but you weren't in the mood to dance, especially not alone. Instead, you made your way to the bar, leaning against it with one arm while you waited for the bartender, watching your friend dance with her new bride.

"What would you like?"

You turned back to face the bartender, answering "a glass of rosé, please," and flashed a bright smile at him.

He busied himself with pouring your drink, and you barely noticed when someone else leaned against the bar, to your right.

You tilted your head to look at them, and your heart nearly stopped. The woman in front of you was so breathtaking, so absolutely flawless in her midnight blue dress. Her brilliant blue eyes met yours and she smiled at you warmly, your breath catching at the sight. Her face was a work of art, more divine than any sculptor could ever hope to capture.

The bartender handed you your wine, and asked the woman for her order- a whiskey on ice.

"Hello, my name is Feyre," the woman introduced herself, and if you thought she hadn't been able to be any more attractive, you were wrong once she spoke. Her voice was husky and low, and something in the way she spoke promised nothing but pleasure and long nights, sending heat straight between your thighs.

"My name is Y/N," you replied, doing your best to keep your voice even and not betray just how effected you were by five words.

She repeated your name, testing it on her tongue. "Absolutely beautiful," Feyre said quietly. She thanked the bartender when he passed her her drink, and she took a small sip. Your eyes catalogued the way her throat moved when she swallowed, how her tongue darted out to lick her lips. "How do you know the brides?"

"Oh, I'm a work friend of Emerie's. She keeps me sane, if I'm being honest," you laughed, and Feyre joined you, such a beautiful noise that you found yourself wanting to hear it again. "And yourself?"

"Mor is my husband's cousin, but I think of her as one of my sisters at this point," Feyre replied, and her words made your heart sink slightly.

Married.

"That's lovely, that you get along with your in-laws," you said, trying to conceal your downed hopes at a wonderful evening with the woman in front of you.

"Mm, I definitely feel lucky to get along with her."

Just as she finished speaking, a man slid up behind her, wrapping his arms around her and kissing her neck lightly. He grabbed the drink from her hand and took a deep sip, replacing it in her grasp.

"Oh, Y/N, this is my husband, Rhys," Feyre said, and the man turned to look at you.

It figures that the two most beautiful people you would probably ever meet were married to each other.

His eyes were such a deep blue color that they nearly looked violet, and his hair shined blue-black in just the right lighting. His face itself was gorgeous, those high cheekbones making him look positively regal.

"It's nice to meet you," you said, feeling more shy now with the both of them in front of you.

"I can say the same, darling," Rhys purred at you.

Their voices alone could probably coax you to climax with how heavenly, or perhaps sinful, they both sounded.

His hands had drifted further up Feyre's body, resting just underneath the bust of her dress, his thumbs stroking against the fabric there.

You couldn't help that your eyes were drawn there.

Or that's what you told yourself, as both Feyre and Rhys smirked at you when they caught your eyes, obviously having seen where they'd drifted.

Your cheeks heated, but you refused to look away from them.

That made Feyre smile coyly at you, and she placed a gentle hand on your arm. “Are you here with anyone tonight, darling?”

You shook your head. “No, I hadn’t found anyone… suitable enough.” You tried to keep your voice confident, possibly even bold, with the renewed hope for the night blooming between your thighs.

“What a shame,” Rhys drawled, eyes raking over your form. “You just might have to come home with us, it would be even more of a shame for you to go home alone.”

Your cheeks flushed further at his words, and you stepped a bit closer to the devastatingly beautiful pair.

“Maybe I should.”

Feyre turned her head to look at the dance floor, where most of the wedding party was enjoying the night. “I don’t think Mor or Emerie would mind if we slipped out of the party a bit early, do you, darling?” She asked, turning her eyes back to yours, keeping you captive in her gaze.

“Not one bit,” you said breathlessly, and that was all the pair needed to disentangle themselves and each take one of your arms in theirs, guiding you to the exit at a casual pace.

The three of you grabbed your coats, Rhys slipping yours over your arms before repeating the action with his wife. They led you to a sleek black car, and Feyre led you to the backseat before joining you, Rhys taking the wheel.

The car ride could have taken an hour for all you cared, because the moment you were buckled and moving, Feyre was on you, her lips capturing yours in a searing kiss, filled with her fiery desire, and her hands were already exploring your body over the fabric of your dress.

She squeezed your breasts, testing the fullness of them before pinching at your nipples, the sensitive buds hardening in response, all the while her mouth was making a mess of your neck, leaving bite marks and hickeys in their wake. One of her hands trailed down your abdomen, down your thigh to the hem of your dress and slipped under it, dragging up your inner thigh and straight to your core. Her fingers ran over your slit, a breathy moan leaving you as they did. Feyre’s seductive laugh in your ear had you widening your legs for her, giving her better access as your hands clutched at her shoulders, slipping between silky fabric and soft skin.

“No panties? Naughty little girl,” Feyre whispered, just as two fingers dipped between your folds, and Feyre let out a groan when she felt how soaked you were, just for them.

Those same to fingers drifted up, making small, quick circles on your clit, building your pleasure up, up, up-

The door just to your right opened, a gush of cold air entering the car, and Rhys chuckled lowly behind you.

“Couldn’t wait, sweet wife of mine?”

Feyre grinned up at him, her hand already lifting to her mouth, and she sucked your arousal off her fingers, the actions sending another pulse to your core. You whimpered at the sight of her, still slightly leaning over you, her hair disheveled from your wandering hands. “Of course I couldn’t, husband, not with such a sweet treat waiting for me between these thighs.”

Strong arms wrapped around you, and you heard the click of your seatbelt just before your were pulled out of the car, and right into Rhys’s capable hold. Feyre followed just behind, shutting the door behind her and handing a pair of keys to the valet.

Because you weren’t just at a house, you were at a high rise apartment- one with actual security, and a front desk, and a valet for christ’s sake!

You were distracted from that a moment later, Rhys’s lips ghosting across your ear as he whispered, “I am going to absolutely devour you.”

Melting- you had to be melting at this point, the heat between your thighs having built to an inferno, every inch of your skin crying out for these two strangers’ touch.

Once the three of you were in the elevator, Feyre stood in front of you, caging you entirely between the two of them. “Feeling good, darling?” She asked, running her thumb over your cheek. You nodded- you were feeling more than good. In fact, this was the best you had felt in over a year.

Feyre smiled, so dazzling your breath hitched, and she leaned in for a gentle kiss.

The elevator dinged, and the three of you left the elevator, Feyre opening the one lone door at the end of the short hallway while Rhys carried you in, making his way into another hallway and finally arriving in a grand bedroom.

He gently set you down on the bed, your feet just barely dangling off of the edge. Rhys got on his knees before you, and brought your right foot to rest on his thigh as he undid the tie of your shoe. Feyre entered the room a moment later, her coat and shoes already off. She padded across the plush carpet and crawled onto the bed, coming to rest behind you.

Feyre pulled your jacket down, uncovering the skin of your arms to the warm air of their bedroom as Rhys moved on to your left shoe, discarding them to his right once they were both removed.

“Let’s get you out of the dress, darling,” Feyre suggested, already pushing your hair aside and reaching for the zipper, slowly dragging it down your spine. You shuddered slightly under her touch, her fingers lingering along the base of your spine.

“Stand up for us, doll,” Rhys said, holding your hands and helping you up. Feyre moved the straps of your dress off your shoulders, and it slid off your body to pool on the floor, revealing that you were bare underneath.

Rhys clicked his tongue. “Naughty naughty girl, wearing no underwear to a wedding,” he playfully scolded you, bopping your nose with his index finger.

You bit your lip, nervous at your nakedness and how, well- how clothed they still were. “They ruined the silhouette of the dress…”

Feyre laughed behind you. “I know, darling, I'm not wearing any either.”

Rhys gasped in fake surprise. “Two naughty girls in front of me, hmm? How ever will I punish you…” He trailed off, eyes running over your naked form and his wife, hovering behind you with her hands on your hips.

“I know a way,” Feyre suggested, her lips hovering over your neck. “You could… ‘make’ us play with each other.”

You nodded your head without thinking- anything from either of them and your night would be perfect.

Rhys hummed, thinking it over. “That could work, sweet wife. Y/N, would you like to do the honors and undress Feyre?”

You nodded eagerly. “Yes, please,” you groaned, already turning to face Feyre, who was grinning at you, already pulling her hair to the side. You wrapped your arms around her, fumbling for the zipper for a second before slowly dragging it down, and tugged it off of her shoulders. Her dress fell to her feet, your eyes greedily taking in her perfect body.

Your hands came up to cup her chest, thumbs rolling over her nipples and eliciting a small gasp from her lips. “Beautiful,” you murmured, before leaning in and sucking one nipple into your mouth, rolling your tongue over it. One of Feyre’s hands grabbed your hair, keeping your head in place as the other pulled your lower half closer towards her, your bare stomachs resting together as your mouth moved to the other nipple, repeating its movements.

At the sound of leather creaking, you released Feyre’s nipple and turned, eyes met with the sight of Rhys palming himself through his pants, seated in a high backed leather chair in the corner of the room, with a perfect view of the bed. “Don’t mind me, girls, keep playing.”

Feyre decided to follow his order first, spinning you so that you were facing away from the bed, and she gently pushed you down onto it, gesturing for you to scoot up further until you were all the way on.

She spread your legs and crawled between them, resting on her knees and elbows and she dove in, licking a long stripe up your slit. One of your hands shot down, grabbing a fistful of her hair before you could think. Feyre’s tongue played along your clit, lapping at it a few times before going further down to taste your arousal from the source.

Her tongue fucked into you and you squirmed against where Feyre’s hands were holding down your hips, crying out in pleasure. “Please,” you begged, not even sure of what you needed besides more.

Feyre pulled away slightly, her lips hovering over your pussy. “What’s that, darling?” She asked teasingly, smirking when all you did was cant your hips up to her face. “Did you need more?”

“Mhm,” you whined pitifully, half heartedly attempting to push her head back onto you.

“If you insist,” Feyre said, pulling away from you entirely, and you cried out at the loss of contact.

“What are you-?”

Your question was cut off when Feyre positioned herself above your face, sinking down slowly to let your mind catch up.

What you didn’t expect was a tongue to lick up your cunt, and lips to latch around your clit in the next moment. “Fuck,” you moaned out loudly, your head rising up and hitting Feyre, hovering above you.

“Come on, love, open up,” Feyre coaxed, lowering herself slightly, and this time your brain took the hint, your tongue sticking out to lick at her center, the sweet taste of her costing your tongue.

You moaned into her when Rhys’s tongue returned to your clit, working you up to your peak quickly as you own tongue danced over Feyre, moving between her clit and soaked hole as Feyre’s rocking hips allowed. You toppled over the edge when Feyre’s soft hands pinched both of your nipples, and Rhys’s teeth grazed ever so slightly over your clit, the slight pain mixed with overwhelming pleasure tipping you over the edge.

Feyre’s fingers slipped into your cunt when Rhys’s mouth abandoned your clit, pushing in and out of you, stretching you out.

A moment later you heard the crinkle of a wrapper- a condom, thank god you didn’t have to ask- and Rhys’s warm body was between your legs, keeping you spread apart. Feyre’s fingers left your hole, but were quickly replaced by the thick head of Rhys’s cock, pushing in just the tip before pulling out, sing you.

You whined into Feyre’s cunt, and her hips stuttered above you, sinking down further for a moment before lifting back up.

“Are you ready for me, Y/N?” Rhys asked, hands tapping on your inner thighs. You nodded your head as much as you could, unwilling to take your mouth of off Feyre. “Use your words, babygirl,” he said, tapping your thighs again.

You pulled off of Feyre with a groan and moaned, “Yes,” before latching your mouth back onto Feyre’s clit.

Rhys chuckled when Feyre cried out again, her hands on your breasts propping her up as she came. He pushed in to the hilt, and your loud moan was muffled by Feyre’s skin, her hips still shaking over you.

She went to move off of you, but your arms came up to grip her thighs, keeping her seated on your face- it would be her throne for the rest of time, if you had your way. “Y/N!” Feyre screamed as you kept her over the edge as long as you could, tongue working furiously as Rhys began pumping in and out slowly. Each heavenly drag of his cock made you moan into Feyre’s cunt, and you knew you were in for a long night.

Feyre finally pried herself away from your face, falling back against the bed for a few seconds as Rhys continued fucking you, his pace still slow and steady, a thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit.

“Such a good girl, taking my cock so well,” Rhys praised, and your face scrunched in delight as you beamed up at him, a squeaky moan leaving your lips when he hit just the right spot.

“Oh, that was delightful,” Feyre groaned, moving so she was laying to your right, hand stroking over your stomach. “Make her do it again, Rhysie,” she demanded, looking to her husband.

“Yes, dear,” Rhys said with a smirk, angling his cock in the same way again, hitting the sensitive area once more, the same noise pulled from your lips. Feyre grinned in delight, her hand moving up to your chest slowly.

“We are going to have so much fun,” she whispered in your ear. “Are you going to be a good girl for us?”

You nodded your head vigorously, needing to please them in that moment.

“That’s good, sweet little thing. Very, very good,” Rhys said, the last three words punctuated by deep thrusts that made you see stars, your second orgasm of the night claiming you.

“Do you think we could get… five out of you?” Feyre asked softly as you came down, Rhys still buried inside of you. You nodded your head, even though you weren’t sure they would be able to. But you would be damned if you didn’t let them try. “Let’s get started on the third, then, babygirl,” Feyre said, a soft kiss placed on your lips as her hand played with your nipples.

Oh, yes. You were definitely in for a long night.

🤍💜🤍🩵🤍

Sunlight was just beginning to light the room when you awoke, tangled between two warm bodies. You blinked the sleep out of your eyes, for a moment not remembering at all where you had ended up last night, before it all came rushing back.

Feyre. Rhys. The best sex of my life.

You looked to both sides of you carefully, and after seeing that the two of them were still fast asleep, you carefully slinked out of their bed, slipping on your shoes and dress from the night before, and pulling on your coat as you made your way to the door of their bedroom. Thankfully, your keys and phone were still in the zippered pocket you had put them in the night before, so you wouldn’t have a problem getting home.

Before you left the room, you took one last look at the couple that would occupy your dreams for the next few months. You sighed quietly, and opened the door gently, shutting it softly behind you. After a moment of trying, you found the front door.

The elevator was thankfully empty the entire ride down, and the lobby was free of everyone but the front desk person and security guard. You smiled awkwardly at both of them as you left the building, feeling so, incredibly out of place.

You caught the train home, collapsing into your bed after shrugging off your dress and removing your shoes.

Last night had been perfect. It was fun, casual, and had boosted your confidence incredibly high.

As you snuggled into your pillows, you couldn’t help but miss the warmth you had woken up in, but you knew it was better this way. They were married and you weren’t ready to commit.

That’s what you told yourself, at least.

🤍💜🤍🩵🤍

The next month was hard.

You had been handed a massive project at work before Emerie had come back from her honeymoon, and you had been struggling with it ever since, even with some input from the other woman.

You had reacted poorly to a few choices that your boss had made regarding the project, both of them ruining a weeks worth of work each.

Then, your ex, George, had found where you lived, and had started harassing you there and at work again, like he had right after you’d left him.

Overall, you’d had so many reasons to not question how vulnerable and exhausted you were feeling.

It was only when you had hurled your guts up in your work’s bathroom for the third day in the row that your realized.

You hadn’t had your period in over two months. And your heart dropped into your stomach.

You were crouched over a toilet during your lunch break, peeing on a stick to figure out if you were just being paranoid.

But you knew. You knew.

And when that stick turned pink, a positive plus sign so dark and obvious you couldn’t deny it, you cried in the pharmacy bathroom stall.

You made your way back to your office once you had dried your tears, so many fears playing in your mind.

You were single, unmarried, hell, the child was a product of a threesome with a married couple. You hadn’t felt ready for a relationship, let alone a child.

But… with your hand resting on your stomach, you felt… joy. Hope. A baby was growing inside of you, against all odds. The three of you had made sure to use a condom every time Rhys fucked you, and how often did condoms really fail?

What are we going to do, little nugget? You thought to yourself, your hand rubbing a soothing circle over your still flat abdomen.

🤍💜🤍🩵🤍

Two weeks later, and you had made a final decision. You were keeping the baby.

You had also decided that you needed to see Rhys and Feyre again, to at least tell them what was happening.

But you were nervous. So, so nervous as you stood outside of their apartment building. It looked even more intimidating than the night you had first come here.

You made your way to the front doors, expecting them to open when you pushed on the door.

It didn’t budge.

“Ma’am, please state your name and who you are trying to visit,” the security guard next to the door said.

“Oh, I’m uhm. My name is Y/N, I’m here to see Rhys and Feyre, please.”

The guard flipped through a tablet, then shook his head. “I’m sorry, ma’am, you aren’t on the list of approved visitors. You’re welcome to call them and be put on the list, but until them I’m afraid you have to leave.”

Your face flushed, embarrassed with the fact that you couldn’t call the couple.

“Uhm… Would there be any way that I could just wait in the lobby for them, or you could call them for me? I really, really need to speak with them, but I don’t have their phone numbers,” you pleaded, hoping that the man would take pity on you.

He sighed. “I’m afraid that’s impossible, ma’am. You’ll just have to find another way to contact them.”

It was your turn to sigh, tears involuntarily spilling from your eyes. “Thank you, I- I’m sorry,” you said, sniffling to keep the worst of the tears at bay until you were able to turn away from him.

You wiped at your eyes as you started walking, tears pouring from your eyes as your heightened hormones kicked your panic into overdrive-

And then you smacked directly into a broad chest.

“I’m so sorry,” you cried, your eyes on the ground so you wouldn’t have to see the person’s expression.

“Hey, it’s o- Y/N?” A velvety voice asked.

Rhys.

You looked up, blinking the tears from your eyes as you took in the male. He was just as beautiful as you remembered, and you knew you made a mistake in coming here.

You were an absolute wreck, and here he was, a Greek god come to life.

“Is everything alright, Y/N?” He asked gently, using his thumbs to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

“I- I-” you stuttered, the words catching in your throat, more tears spilling over and sobs tore from your lungs. His strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you into his chest for a comforting hug.

“Let’s get you inside, hmm, darling? We can talk and get you some coffee, alright?”

You nodded in agreement, still feeling unable to speak.

He released you from his hold but kept one of his arms wrapped around yours, and guided you into the building.

This time when you entered the elevator, you noticed that Rhys used a special key on the button pad, causing the lowest button to light up, which he pushed.

The ride was quick, and he ushered you out of the door and through their front door.

“Rhysie, are you home?” Feyre’s voice asked from far away, likely a few rooms down.

“Yes, love, and I think you should come out here, I found a special someone on my way home,” Rhys called out, his hands automatically taking your jacket and hanging it alongside his. A hand on your low back guided you into a sitting room, and Feyre came out of the hallway that you believed led to their bedroom.

“Oh, Y/N!” Feyre exclaimed, obviously not having expected you to be the visitor. “This is a pleasant surprise, what are you doing here love?” As she got closer, she could see how red and puffy your face was from crying, and the tears still running down your face, at a slower pace now. “Is everything alright?”

You shook your head, but couldn’t speak, still too choked up from your tears.

“Let’s sit down, okay?” Feyre said, taking you by the arm and leading you to a couch, sinking down onto it with you. “Rhys, would you go get her something warm to drink?”

“Of course. Would you like coffee, love?”

“Oh, uh, no, I’ll have tea, please- non-caffeinated if you can,” you replied, heat coloring your cheeks.

Rhys’s brow furrowed for a moment before smoothing out, and he nodded. “I’ll be right back, girls.”

He left in the direction that you assumed their kitchen was in, and Feyre’s hand came to rub small circles on your upper back.

“Do you want to talk about it, love?”

“No, but… I need to,” you sniffled, rubbing your sleeves against your eyes.

“Okay… Would you like me to guess?” Feyre asked, pinching your side lightly and you giggled softly.

“No, no, I don’t… It’s not something that you should find out in that way.”

Rhys came back at that moment, three mugs clutched in his hands. “Alright, here’s a lemon ginger tea for you, Y/N, and a coffee for you Fey.” He sat in the chair to your left, and sat his mug down on the coffee table. “Now, why are we so lucky to see you again today, love?”

You took a sip of the tea, thankful for the warmth, and the flavor helped the the nausea that had started building in your stomach. “I’m, uh…” You trailed off for a moment, trying to figure out how best to phrase this. But really, there was no good way to say this. “I’m pregnant.”

Both of them blinked at you, confused.

“I… I haven’t had… sex… with anyone besides the two of you in almost a year and- and I know that we used condoms and it doesn’t make sense and you probably want absolutely nothing to do with me- I’ll just go,” you rambled, setting your cup down and tried to stand up, only for both of them to clamp a hand down on you.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Feyre asked, her tone… happy?

You didn’t understand.

“What makes you think we want nothing to do with you, love?” Rhys asked, one of his hands turning your head to look at him, and you could swear you saw silver lining his eyes.

“Because… I was a one night stand, and I… You two are married, and perfect, and I’m just…”

“Just what, hmm? You’re perfect too, you know,” Feyre said, and arm wrapping around your shoulders and pulling you into her side.

“That’s not-” you sighed. “I just mean that this is nothing that you could have planned for, or wanted. That’s all.”

“Actually, Y/N…” Rhys began. “Feyre and I have been trying to have a child for the last two years, with no success. We want a child, and have wanted a child for so long. Maybe our meeting you was some divine intervention, leading us to something we never knew we wanted, along with all that we’ve ever wanted.”

Tears filled your eyes as he spoke, his kind words washing over you.

“If I can be honest with you, Y/N, Rhys and I… We haven’t been able to keep you out of our thoughts in the past six weeks, we were so close to just asking Emerie for your phone number.”

The tears spilled over, and Rhys got up from his chair and scooped you up, taking your place and setting you on his lap. Feyre grabbed a tissue from the box on the coffee table and dabbed at your eyes, Rhys’s hand smoothing your hair out of your face.

“Hey, hey, it’s okay,” Feyre cooed at you, kissing your cheeks. “Unless you don’t want the child…?”

You shook your head vigorously, strands of your hair smacking Rhys in the face. “No, I… I want to keep my little nugget, it’s just. I’m so happy,” you cried, your sobs returning in full force.

“Oh, love,” Rhys chuckled. “Everything is going to be okay. We can do this. There are three of us after all, and that means two people to help take care of you while you’re carrying our sweet little nugget, as you called it.”

They both placed a hand on your lower abdomen, and you all let it sink in.

You were having a baby.

And with the two of them by your side, you almost felt prepared.

General Taglist: @daughterofthemoons-stuff

566 notes · View notes

readychilledwine · 8 months ago

Text

Extramarital Escape pt 2

Rhysand Week Day 7 Free Day

Summary - Being Nyx's nanny came with many perks. You just didn't expect an affair to be one of them.

Warnings - affairs, reader using Azriel with his consent, manipulation, power dynamics, fxmxf, yearning, choking, mental foreplay

A/n - happy day 7 of @officialrhysandweek! I am going to apologize now, I promised smut and while this original did have smut the idea of reader falling into bed with Feyre without Rhysand before the big 3some popped into my mind and there was just *something* about it. I'm weighing it. Be prepared discord friends.

Part 1

✨️Rhysand Week Masterlist✨️Rhys Masterlist✨️Master Masterlist✨️

You were playing a dangerous game and Rhysand, had he not had some semblance of self control, would have killed Azriel for what he walked upstairs to.

Azriel had you against the wall. One of his hands rested on your hip, his other forearm against the wall. His face was far too close to yours. Smirk far too playful as he whispered something that had you blushing and nodding with wide eyes.

You had been avoiding Rhysand. Avoiding Feyre. Only showing up to handle your duties as Nyx's nanny, then leaving for the night in the arms of whichever of Rhysand's brothers arrived to fly you back to the House of Wind. Lately, it has been Azriel. Consistently Azriel.

Rhysand wasn't a controlling male. You could have friends, be free if you so made the choice to be, but avoiding him all together? That's where a line was crossed.

“Don't you two have work to be doing?” You and Azriel jumped apart and the spymaster simply kissed your palm before disappearing. Before you could so much as move, Rhysand had you, arms held behind your back as he walked you into his study and warded it.

The tension between you two was thick. It seemed to have a life of it's own, choking you, straining him. “You have been avoiding me,” his tone had grown soft. “Why are you avoiding me?”

“I told you I didn't want to do this anymore-”

“And I told you the expectations of your job,” he stated. “This one was non-negotiable.” He hated the way you set your jaw so firm. The way you glared at him. He hated that you couldn't feel the strained bond. The way he and Feyre ached for you.

This situation was rare in their world. Practically unheard of. He'd searched every book, every legend, hell, he had gone through children's stories. Nothing explained this bond. This rarity he and Feyre had been blessed with.

“You have also been avoiding Feyre,” he moved closer to you, taking in the soft scent that clinged to your skin. “I understand your anger with me, but my mate has done nothing wrong.”

Honey and roses. Soft, feminine. He missed your scent. How it added a layer of complexity to the scent of lilac and sea salt that followed him and Feyre.

You crossed your arms, “How am I supposed to look her unt he eye when her husband has been fucking me behind her back?”

“Fucking you,” Rhysand thought to himself. He would hardly describe what you two did as strictly fucking. He spent hours licking every inch of you. He'd spend days between your legs if you let him, savoring every noise, every kiss, every whimper of his name. He'd been rough with you at times, taking you the way Feyre enjoyed the most, but predominantly, he made love to you. Slow, gentle, talking you through as you fell apart. He felt the way that made your soul glow. He felt the way being held so tenderly made your mind fall silent.

He'd only realized he had yet to respond to you when the door opened, Feyre walking in with several sets of earring in her hands.

It was girls night and you immediately clocked how she looked absolutely exquisite. Her flowy two piece outfit highlighted how perfect she was, the shade of powder blue complimenting her skin tone every way. The top ended just above her belly button, the sweetheart neckline dipping to preview just enough of her chest. The pants were baggy but tight around the ankles with the slit running from ankle to the waistband. “Ah perfect, two of my favorite fae to pick my earrings,” she held both options up to you and Rhysand. “I really like the idea of super simple silver.”

You moved to her, brushing the hair from her neck “How did you plan to wear your hair? Because down means simple studs, up is an excuse to wear those really pretty dangly ones.”

Rhysand watched the two of you so closely, hiding his realization that he and Feyre had made an error in their game plan. You two fit. The subtle flirtation, the touches that lingered for longer than they needed to. They had calculated for you to be easily seduced by him, that'd you'd fall for him.

It should have been a blow to his self-esteem when he watched as you helped her put the diamond studs in, hand lingering in her hair for just a moment. “How truly blessed we are to have such a beautiful High Lady,” you hand lingered in that strand of hair before you walked away, a blushing Feyre standing there in your absence.

“We made a miscalculation, Feyre Darling,” Rhysand purred as he took in his mate, looking her up and down as if she was his next meal. “She wants you.”

Feyre glanced at him before looking away. She was hiding something from him and not succeeding. He only had to give her a look, a brush against her mental shields as he did. “Nesta saw her and Azriel whispering very.. intimately last night in the House of Wind. She couldn't get close enough to hear what it was about, but she heard our names and Azriel telling y/n to calm down and that something was working.”

Rhysand cocked his head before laughing, “The little..” He glared towards the door you'd just left out of. “Leave her to me,” he moved to Feyre, kissing her temple. “I think I've figured out this little game.”

It was the first night in almost a month you were alone with Rhysand and would be throughout the night. You tried to focus on your current task, mindlessly folding Nyx's laundry while you hummed to yourself. Rhysand was silent as he moved behind you, hand coming to rest on your throat, “I wasn't done speaking with you earlier.”

You couldn't stop the way your eyes fluttered shut if you had wanted to, couldn't stop the way your skin broke out in chills as he held you so possessively. “You will tell me what is going on between you and Azriel. Now.”

Your breathing betrayed the even tone of your voice, “We are just close friends.” You emphasized close on purpose, earning a soft squeeze that made you gasp as your mind began to float away.

“You're lying to me, darling? So bold of you to assume you could manage that.”

His breath was by your ear, tickling your skin. You were lying to yourself pretending you didn't yearn for him. For both of them. Azriel was kind to allow you to use him the way he was. To play this game of chess with you. The problem was your version of chess was one children with no experience played. Rhysand, though, Rhysand could play with his eyes closed.

Your very pulse was enough for him to know he was winning. Enough for him to feel the very aching setting in your core. “I saw how you looked at Feyre today,” his low deep voice made you whimper, offering weakness to him like a present. “I saw how you touched her. I can give you that. Give you the ability to experience her the way you want. The way you wish.”

His hand grew a little tighter on your throat allowing that feeling of euphoria setting in as he did.

Rhysand smirked behind you, letting you enjoy the little high he was giving you before walking away leaving you suddenly.

“Rhys,” you began to protest as he ignored you. “You can't just-”

“I can,” the tone was firm and left no room for question. “I only give my affections to the very best of girls, and you, y/n have not been a good girl lately.”

That sentence would haunt you and he knew it. He knew your need to please, to be the picture perfect example of manners and politeness. Your lip trembled at the thought alone, a final sign of his power over you. “I want to be a good girl.”

“Then tomorrow night, you won't go to the House of Wind,” he moved closer again. His hand slowly trailing up your fingers and across your collarbones. “You will come to my bed tomorrow night, with Feyre, and she and I will discuss what to do with you.”

“But you.. I-”

Your stumbling was almost adorable to him, the way your eyes were wide. He grabbed your chin, pulling you into the first kiss he'd had in far too long from you. Your lips were as sweet as he remembered, a soft hint of lemon lingering from the liquor you had picked to sip for the night. “I only give my affections to good girls,” he purred against your lips again. “Are you my good girl?”

“I want to be,” you whispered back, eyes meeting his. “I'm sorry.”

“Your apology means nothing unless you fix what you've done. I've told you how you can make it up to me. To Feyre. I know you'd hate to disappoint your High Lady, wouldn't you?”

He made you nod wanting to cave to his desires and take you. He left you with one more soft kiss, “Be my good girl tomorrow night and I will give you everything you ever wanted.”

He left you then. Truly left you. Feeling alone, anxious, needy. How unfair of him to leave you like this? Longing for him. For her. You thought you could play this game as well as he did. Master the mental chess board with little issue. The idea of prolonging this, of continuing to push him, it appealed to you in the sick twisted sense of needing to know where that line was.

It didn't appeal to you the way being satisfied did. The way his hands touching you did. And his offer? To lay with him and Feyre?

Images flashed through you mind, need building more and more until it felt as though you were suffocated by your own self made frustrations. You took deep breaths, hand resting on your pounding Heart.

Your mind was made.

Tomorrow you'll be a good girl.

The best girl.

All day, you'd torture both of them by being so good they'd struggle the way you currently were, and that was one game you could always win.

General Taglist:

Extramarital escape taglist

@wickedfelinaxo @sh4nn @justdreamstars @jesssicapaniagua @harrystylesfan2686 @slytherinindisguise @fxckmiup @saltedcoffeescotch @sarawritestories @sinarainbows @justaboredbookworm @xcarrotxs-blog @paleidiot @nayaniasworld @fyfy-world @seasonallyapril @alhaithmss @Ilovelydove @nebarious @helloevilmuffins @fantanbietsson

#elizabeths.updates #acotar #acotar x reader #feysand x reader #feyre archeron x reader #feysand x you #feysand x y/n #feyre x you #feyre x y/n #rhysand fanfic #Rhysand x reader #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #rhysandweek2024 #rhysandweek2024 day 7

600 notes · View notes

sapphicmsmarvel · 9 months ago

Text

acotar: feeding my complex

If you know me irl 🎶no the fuck you dont 🎶

This is azriel x reader x feyre x rhys smut. Everything is under the cut. (i'm so nervous posting this omg)

(3.7K YALL WTF POSSESSED ME)

title is from complex by xana pls listen xana is one of the best artists ive ever heard!

‼️Minors Do Not Interact‼️

(i already know minors are gonna ignore that bc i have common sense)

notes: probably ooc rhys and az. i do not see them as the type to share mates but like, it’s hot. you could see this as wlw fetishization but as a pan/bi/queer woman this is a goddamn wet dream so i approve it. (duh i wrote it)

This is mainly porn with no plot, but i snuck some in.

kinks: ass play, tongue sucking, female worship, voyeurism, switching from top to bottom real quick, dirty talk (i tried), praise, oral (fem receiving), mating press, pussy slapping, edging, mentioned past knife play. I think i got it all folks.

It all started from a dinner with Feyre and Rhysand. Aka your childhood best friend and her husband. You and Feyre dreamed of double dates with your spouses as children and now you finally have it.

You four occasionally had these dinners, typically once a month.

After the meal, you four were in the living room area, Azriel was on his second glass of wine, Rhysand and you weren’t drinking. Feyre was on her first glass. The fire was crackling with life, causing the room to warm.

Then you four began sharing silly secrets. It started with Feyre and Rhysand fucking in paint, which gave your husband ideas. Then you and Azriel admonishing them for fucking in the literal sky. But then they scolded you two for knife play. Especially when they found out Truthteller’s handle was used to fuck you.

“How did you even grip that?” Feyre asked.

Azriel smirked, “who said I was the one holding it?”

“Who the hell did you invite to your bed and why wasn’t it us?” Rhysand asked, jokingly but you warmed at the idea.

“The shadows you fool.” You laughed, sipping your water. “Az pinned me down and sucked my tits while the shadows pinned my legs down and used Truthtellers handle to fuck me.

They were silent and then, “I love how you have no filter, baby.” Az coughed.

“So do I. Damn.” Feyre said. “That’s spank bank material.”

You snorted and Rhysand just tipped his glass to you.

Which then the conversation turned into friends having sex, and then:

“You mean to tell me, you and my High Lady would have sex?” Azriel asked, surprised clearly. He knew you were into women but it was different knowing the object of your past affections was his close friend and High Lady.

“I mean, yeah.” You shrugged at your mate. “Two girls that the village wanted nothing to do with. Might as well do each other.”

“And by the way, it was a loving and very respectful relationship. Platonic sex!” Feyre declared from her spot on the couch.

“Huh.” Rhysand said. “You know, I expected not to like that but…” he trailed off. “The thoughts are nice.”

You snorted and looked at Azriel, who was looking at you with an expression that could only be described as eye-fucking.

“Are you serious?” You asked him grinning. He had the decency to blush.

“What?” Feyre asked, looking towards you.

“He’s into it too!” You laughed.

Feyre laughed as well, “I mean I don’t blame them. We are quite hot together.” She scooted closer to you on the couch.

“That we are.” You grinned and clinked your glasses together.

You all quickly went onto other topics, but you both could tell that the boys just could not stop imagining you two together.

“Okay, how do we bring you two back to the present?” Feyre asked.

“What do you mean?” Azriel asked.

“You two have been acting so weird since we said we used to hook up. So how do we stop that weirdness?” Feyre asked.

“We just never imagined our wives with equally attractive women.” Rhysand shrugged.

You gasped, “are you saying I’m as hot as Feyre? That's the best compliment.”

He was silent. He actually looked sheepish, he awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and everything.

“What?” You asked.

“He’s saying you’re as hot as him.” Azriel said.

You gasped even louder. “Seriously?!”

“I mean, you are,” Feyre shrugged.

“And Feyre is….as attractive as you are, love.” Azriel said.

“Awww Azzie..” Feyre cooed teasingly. “That's so cute.”

The tips of his ears became bright red.

Rhysand stuttered out, “it’s just, hard to imagine so…” He trailed off

You turned and looked at Feyre. “They wanna see us smooch.” You giggled.

Feyre rolled her eyes. “Come here.” She grabbed your face and pecked you on the lips.

When you turned towards the boys, they were wide eyed but not satisfied. “You’re blue-balling us.” Rhysand huffed.

“Oh? You wanna see us do what?”

Rhysand was silent and looked at Azriel then you two. Feyre coaxed, “words baby.”

“We want to see you two make out.” Azriel ended their misery. “And maybe…” He shrugged.

“Maybe?” You prodded. You knew exactly what that voyeur wanted to see. But gods, this was fun enough for you. And it was turning you the fuck on.

“Maybe if it’s hot, then we fuck you both together.” Azriel snapped, but it wasn’t malicious. Your mate snapped when he was flustered, which was rare. So you were eating this shit up.

“If?” You chuckled. “Baby, it’s gonna be.”

“Yeah yeah you know you two are hot.” Rhysand muttered.

You giggled, “then we have to go to bed, don’t we?” You asked Feyre.

“Duh.” She laughed, downed her drink then grabbed your hand. You both took off down the hallway, the men nearly tripping over themselves to follow you two.

You two beat them to the bed. You both fell into a heap of giggles as they ran up the stairs.

“Is it weird if I’ve missed kissing you?” Feyre asked. She threw off her baggy shirt, so her bra was on display. But left her shorts on. “As much as I love Rhys, kissing girls is just.” She kissed the air.

“I feel the same.” You giggled into your shared air. You shucked your shorts off, revealing the granny panties you were wearing. If you knew this was coming, you would’ve worn a hot set. You left the big tee shirt on.

“I’m not wearing panties, I wanna leave some mystery.” Feyre said.

“I would’ve worn a hot set if i knew this was happening.” You laughed, you could hear the boys were close to the bedroom.

“It’s not fair you look hot in granny panties.” Feyre groaned.

You laughed as the boys arrived, now the fun could begin.

“C’mere.” You grinned and Feyre did as well.

The two of you sat on the bed, facing each other. Your knees touching. Very much aware of your husbands at the end of the bed waiting for you two to kiss. Their heated gazes stroked the inferno that was in your cunt. Throbbing.

When you and Feyre’s lips met, the world went silent. Kissing Feyre was always like falling into a comfy bed. Soft, plush and safe. As much as you loved Azriel as he was your mate, and you obviously were sexually attracted to men. You also were sexually attracted to women. There was never a worry with Az. He never wanted to invite anyone to the bedroom because he didn’t trust anyone.

But these, these were two of the people he trusted most.

Nothing beats kissing a girl.

Your mouths opened for each other, your tongues caressing each other. Lewd sounds were the only sound in the bedroom aside from Azriel and Rhysands heavy breathing. Feyre pulled you against her, your tits rubbing against each other, you wore no bra underneath so the contact caused your nipples to pebble. She ran her hands underneath your shirt, scraping her nails against your back. Your hands wove into her hair and pulled her even closer. Her nails dug into your plush hips.

She pulled away, “Gods, I missed these hips. Fucking perfection. So soft.” Between each sentence she pressed a kiss to your swollen lips. “Felt even better sitting on my face. Remember that?”

“Gods how could I forget?” You whispered. You smelled the musky, manly scent of Azriel and Rhysands arousal, you felt your pussy throb at the aroma of them and the sweet smell of Feyre’s mixing.

You captured Feyres lips between your own. Better than a drug. More addictive and exhilarating.

You heard rustling and then the sound of clothes hitting the floor.

You felt warm heat radiate at your back as large thighs cradled your butt and hips. Azriel’s warm hands went around your waist to hold you. He kissed your neck. You felt his cock in bump into your plush thighs. Rock hard.

How far are we going with this? Rhysand created a link to all of your minds.

As far as you boys would like. This isn’t new for Y/N and I. Feyres throaty laugh echoed in your minds. Safe word?

Peach. Like Y/N’s ass. Azriel said as he spanked you.

No ones gonna get possessive and rip out someone’s throat? You asked as your tongue licked down the side of Feyres throat, your teeth scraped her skin. She let out a breathy moan.

Nobody else I trust to fuck my wife than these two. Azriel responded

Glad you have so much faith. Rhysand said. Can’t wait to make your wife see the galaxy.

yeah watch me make your wife come. Was all you said before your fingers dipped into Feyre’s shorts.

Azriel chose that moment to slip his hand into the back of your panties and spread your ass cheeks with his long thick fingers. Just rubbing outside the tight ring made you quiver. You weren’t a fan of penetration there, but a little bit of ass play never hurt.

You snuck your hand into her shorts, her smooth, wet pussy was warm and inviting. You wanted to sink into it with your tongue and fuck her so hard she didn’t know her name. But, you’d do that another time, either with Rhys coming down her throat or just watching while Azriel pounded into you from behind, you weren't picky.

You gathered her slick and brought it up to her clit and continuously rubbed circles on the bundle of nerves.

Based on the way her thighs clenched around your hand, you knew something was going on in the back. Then you saw the lube in Rhysands hand get thrown onto the bed and knew that she was also getting some ass action.

“Is he fucking your ass?” You asked her. She groaned. “You got my fingers on your clit, your husbands in your asshole and you’re giving my husband a filthy fucking show? You grabbed her face with your free hand, “open.” You ordered.

She did so without complaint, her tongue sticking out as you took her tongue between your lips and sucked on it like it was your favorite candy.

You pulled away long enough to say, “dirty fucking girl.” You saw her eyes roll back into her head as you took her tongue in your mouth again and sucked it.

You moaned around her tongue as Azriel began pressing harder against your tight asshole. He began rubbing faster. You whimpered. You weren’t afraid to admit that it doesn’t take much to make you finish. But you also have a faster turnaround time than most. It helps that this sight, this situation was the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.

You let go of Feyre’s tongue. “Wanna sit on my face baby?” You asked Feyre as she pitched forward into your shoulder. “Huh? You can sit on my face while Az fucks me and you can suck Rhys’ cock. How does that sound?” You rubbed her even faster.

She let out a louder moan as you felt her thighs quiver around your hand.

“Or maybe you wanna see what the biggest wingspan feels like.” You grinned, you saw Rhys’ eyes flash a stormy violet. “His cock is so thick, baby.” You panted against Feyre’s temple. “You can feel every vein as you bounce. I bet it’d stretch you out so ni-“

You were cut off when someone threw you down on the bed. You looked up to see Rhys’ eyes pinning you down. One of his hands pinning both your wrists down. “Azriel.” Was all he said.

“Yeah?” He asked, still discombobulated from the shift in position.

“Pleasure my wife out while I eat yours out.”

Your husband, your mate, let out a dark chuckle. “As you wish, My Lord.” Your mate sent a gentle caress down the bond. It was almost mocking.

It was fucking hot.

Rhys let out his beast form enough that his wings spread even wider, his right hand that wasn’t holding your wrist turned into his beast claws. And his cock was a hard rod against your inner thigh.

“You know, it’s because of you my wife didn’t get to cum.” He said, one single talon cutting your shirt open. The cool air brushed against the swells of your tits. “If you just kept your fucking mouth shut, she would’ve finished.” He scolded as his wife's moans were in the background, you quickly glanced over Rhysand’s shoulder to see Azriel fingering his High Lady.

“Am I supposed to be sorry?” You cocked an eyebrow.

You had no idea what possessed you to say that to him. You’re only mouthy with Azriel, but not all the time.

You were in a brat mood because the next thing you said was, “you mad that out of all of us I got to fuck her first?”

“Are you always this mouthy?” He asked.

“You have no idea.” Azriel said, taking a break from sucking on Feyre’s tits and fingering her cunt. You were jealous of your husband. Feyre’s tits were spectacular.

Rhysand pinned your waist down and began mouthing at one of your tits. His tongue circled a nipple and he grazed his canine against it which caused your back to shoot up off the bed.

You felt Rhysands claws tap your mental shield, you let him in.

“Praise or degradation?” He switched to the other breast.

“Both. But, don’t overdo it with the name calling please.” You requested. You were bullied as a kid so name calling is a toughie to navigate.

“What words are you against?” He then tore the rest of your shirt off completely. The cool air causing goosebumps on your exposed skin.

“I don’t like being told I'm ‘just a cunt’. Degrade me by roughing me up. Praise my looks while you do it.”

His chuckle echoed in your mind, “oh I can certainly work with that.”

“These beautiful thighs are meant to be parted.” He said as he trailed down your curvy body. “Curves of a goddess too.” He pulled your granny panties off and threw them somewhere.

Azriel always told you how beautiful you were, but you weren’t gonna lie, hearing it from a guy like Rhysand was pretty nice too.

“The prettiest woman I've seen.” Feyre said off in the distance. She was moaning as well. You didn’t know what your mate was doing. But you knew it was good.

You hummed as he spread your legs, he blew on your clit and the air made your thighs twitch.

“Your stretch marks are so beautiful.” He said into your mind.

He licked a stripe between your folds and moaned. He started sloppily eating like a man starved. Your toes were curling, your heels pushing into his shoulder blades and pushing him further into you. Your hands curl into his hair.

“You taste like fucking heaven. Our perfect, beautiful, otherworldly little slut.”

“How does it feel knowing everyone in this room has tasted this perfect cunt?” The breath from him speaking felt like ecstasy as it went over your puffy red cunt.

“Fuck.” Your eyes rolled back.

He pulls away and you whine, then squeak when he slaps your pussy. “I asked a question.” He was just adding fuel to the flame.

“It feels so fucking good. Like I'm a God.” You couldn’t help the truth bubbling out. Anything to get his tongue back inside you. Your pussy was throbbing so hard you were sure they could all hear it. You were a greedy little thing.

“You are a God, you are our God that tastes so fucking good it’s addictive.” He whispered as if the sentence was a prayer.

He then put his mouth to use. He rolled your bud around with his tongue. Having the raw, targeted motions made you more sensitive. Causing pleasurable shocks to go through your body.

“Only we get to make you feel like this, only us. You are ours.”

“Your curves, your plushness, Gods. Perfection.”

Right as your thighs began to shake, right as your stomach began to clench and twist, he stopped.

You could not help the whine. Feyre whined too. It seems the boys had planned something.

The little bitches had edged you both. “She’s ready for you.” Rhysand smirked at your husband, his lips coated in your slick.

Azriel grabbed your legs and pulled them onto his shoulders so quickly it caused you to yelp. The head of his cock slapping your pussy lips.

Feyre was then laid right next to you, both men were now on the bed on their knees.

Realization set in, these bastards were putting you two in mating presses.

Rhysand bent down to kiss his mate, when he pulled away, she smirked. “You taste so good with Y/N’s pussy smeared all over your lips. My new favorite dessert.”

Before you could see Rhysands reaction, Azriel pulled your attention towards him. “Look at you being the favorite slut of the group.”

Your pussy clenched around nothing which caused you to pitifully whine. “You want me to fill that pussy, baby?” Azriel asked. “Show who has the biggest wingspan?”

“Mhm.” You whined again.

“Your wish is my command, baby.”

And together, both him and Rhys, pushed into their wives pussies.

You let out a guttural moan as the delicious stretch came. Then the feeling of being pleasantly full. Almost to the point of too much. You couldn’t help the tears that came out of your eyes. Since the beginning of the night you’ve been pent up and to finally feel the release and that all the build up was coming to an amazing moment.

Your cunt greedily sucked him in, as if welcoming him home. “You’ve always been made for me.” You whispered. You two together were truly like a puzzle, the way your bodies reacted to each other was proof of that.

The fat head of his cock hit your g-spot and the world went white. Your gummy walls felt like heaven to him. And this felt like heaven to you.

“Fuck.” You moaned as he began pounding into you. He curled in on you, his arms came around to your back and up to your shoulders, holding you in place as his harsh thrusts dove into you. Azriel’s balls were slapping against your ass, a feeling that will never get old. His head going to your neck.

Sounds surrounded you, Azriels panting against your skin. Azriel and Rhysands grunts. The sounds of skin slapping, gasps and moans that fell from Feyres lips like a prayer. You could feel the sweat from your back clinging to the bedding on top. Azriels breath against your neck, adding to the pleasure. Your nails clawing at Azriels back.

The bed was moving with all four of you on it. You heard something in the frame snap but you didn’t care. You didn’t care if the bed fell through the floor.

You turned your head to the side to see Feyre getting pounded into so hard her eyes were rolling back. Rhysand had pinned her hands to the bed with his own and practically flattened her against the bedding.

It was so fucking hot.

She turned her head, her mascara smeared and her lips puffy and red. Skin so beautifully flushed. You knew you looked the same to her. Beautiful. You two held eye contact as you were pounded within an inch of your lives, the act alone felt more intimate than kissing.

All of it together made the rope finally snap.

You clenched around your husband's cock hard. Hard enough that it caused him to gasp.

“Fuck, you always clench around me so good, baby. I’m almost there, yeah?” He murmured. Making sure it was okay to continue pounding into your g-spot.

“Use me, Azriel.” The overstimulation didn’t scare you. It thrilled you. You loved squirting and you were ready to do it. “Use me like a fucking toy.”

You didn’t know he could thrust harder in the moment, but he did. You held his sweaty head against your neck. It felt like he was going even deeper, which you didn’t know was possible. He bit into the area between your shoulder and neck, causing you to throw your head back in pleasure.

You heard Feyre’s tell-tale noise and then both her and Rhysand finished. You could tell based on their sounds and the smells.

Then you felt the tingly feeling of when you’re about to squirt. “Az.” You whined and clenched him hard.

His lips grazed your neck as he spoke. “I know, I’m there.” You felt his cock release and then let yourself go.

Your pussy clamped down on him so hard he groaned and collapsed on top of you. The release with Az always felt like you were reborn. Free. Cherished. You knew you had absolutely soaked Feyre and Rhysand’s bed, but you couldn’t be bothered to care.

“Did so fucking good baby.” You said and kissed his temple.

Rhysand rolled over onto the other side of Feyre, Azriel eventually pulled out of you and just flopped on the other side of you. Rhysand snapped his fingers and all of you were in clean sheets and were clean. Still felt grimy but you could live with it until you could bathe. He had the courtesy to magic a blanket over the four of you.

The room was silent except for your panting.

“So.” Rhys began.

“We’re doing that again right?” Feyre finished.

“Yeah.” Azriel panted.

“Fuck yeah.” You agreed. “I already have ideas.”

Feyre snorted, “of course you do. Can’t wait for you to experience the wonders of Y/N’s perverted mind, babe.” She said and you heard her punch her husband's shoulder.

Azriel chuckled, “The shadows fucking her with Truthteller was her idea.”

“Fuck.”

#acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acofs #acotar x reader #azriel x reader #feysand #rhysand x reader #feyre x reader #feysand x reader

577 notes · View notes