#dark!rhysand x reader

[tadpolesonalgae]

Dark!Rhysand x reader: mine.[***]

A/N: Razzled, dazzled and frazzled my mind

(This isn’t dark dark, but just be wary!)

Warnings: dub-con, hate sex?, dark!Rhysand, CNC kink

Word Count: 5,297

“Where the hell were you last night?”

Blink wearily, attempting to locate the voice. Head is pounding, floor swaying ever so slightly. Gods, you should have watched how much you drank. Blearily stumble forward, clutching your purse tight to make sure you don’t misplace it again. Intricately detailed shoes peek into your vision, the dark leather neatly indented with swirls and dots. You look up; violet splashes across your world, head twinging at the startling colour. “Mother, Rhys. Your eyes.”

Hands press over your own, soothing their ache, providing pleasant reprieve from the bright vibrancy. He steadies you as you sway, roughly holding you straight by your hips. Hear as he scents you. “You drank too much again, didn’t you?” You groan at his protective nature, batting his hands away. “I’m fine, Rhys,” you snap, “I’m capable of looking after myself.” Squint up at him in time to catch a muscle feathering in his jaw. “Forgive me for doubting you, Lady.” He steps aside, gesturing with his arm for you to walk past. “I trust you’ll be perfectly capable of making it to your chambers?”

Scowl at his arrogant tone, warily eyeing the staircase. Pride won’t let you back down, though, so you put one heeled foot in front of the other, steadily marching away. Until the room tilts, and you stumble.

His scent engulfs you, firm warmth wrapping around your middle, large hands gripping your waist, keeping you upright. You regain your balance, then push out of his hold. “Seriously, I’m fine,” you snap again, embarrassment warming your features. He scoffs, still holding you to his warmth, “you were about to shatter your nose on the marble.”

“I was not!” You insist. He stares at you hard, pinning you to the floor with that sharp, violet gaze of his. Dips his head once, and releases you.

Your legs give out, making you yelp as you drop to the floor, knees surely going to bruise from the impact. Spine hurting, too, from how you landed on it. Curse at him under your breath, then glare upward. “You’re a dick, Rhys.”

“You’re irresponsible, and clearly unable to handle your alcohol,” he growls softly, violet taking on an icy hue. “Do you even remember any of last night? Anything you did? Where you went?”

Brow narrows; lips purse. You look away from him.

Jaw tightens. “I thought not.”

Glare up at him, getting to your wobbly feet. “That’s my choice, Rhys. Quit being so controlling. I can do what I want, so stay the hell out of it.”

His temper flares in response, hands gripping your hips, hard. Pulls you tight against his chest. Releases the damper on his power, pressure weighing on your bones as your knees again turn weak, relying on his strength to keep you upright. Grip shakily onto his arms, steadying yourself as your heartbeat spikes.

“Prove you’re capable of being responsible for yourself, for once, and I’ll stop,” he snarls, gaze turning indigo. “But as it stands, any number of things could have happened to you, and you don’t even seem to care.”

“It’s not your business to care,” you manage, voice straining beneath him. He snarls roughly, fingers biting into you, putting bruises into your hips. Suck in a sharp hiss at the sting, flattening your palms over his chest, attempting to push away from him. He grips harder; you whimper.

Muscle stiffens at the sound, sharp arousal piercing his mind, watching from an elevated view how you squirm in his hold, how you fit against him. So clearly made for him. Why can’t you see that? Why can’t you feel how well you mould against his body?

“What if some other male had you like this, huh?” He growls, softly. “There’s nothing you could do. Do you not understand that?” His own heart spikes at the idea alone. If you were somehow subjected to even a fraction of what he went through Under The Mountain… Rage pounds in his heart, fury ripping at his insides. That will never happen to you. Never.

You tip your head upward, craning your neck to peer at him. “You’re the most powerful High Lord in Prythian’s history. That’s hardly a fair example,” you snap weakly, having a hard time resisting his pull. His upper lip curls back, showcasing sharp, gleaming canines. How would they feel on your skin? “There are many other males out there. Certainly nowhere near as powerful as I am, but strong enough to take you if they wanted. And yet you insist on putting yourself at their mercy.”

A snarl rips from your throat. “So it’s my fault they’re like that? Fuck off, Rhys. You’re better than that.” His grip tightens further, your hands flying to his, attempting to push him off you. Tears blur from the pain, but anger surges quick behind. “Get off me. You’re hurting me,” you manage, glaring up into darkened violet, pupils dilating before your eyes.

He can feel the heat from your body, feel the supple press of your stomach as you writhe against him, how you’re inadvertently rubbing over him. Cock twitching behind the seam of his fitted trousers. “What would you do?” He repeats, staring down at you as you squirm, chest rising and falling lightly. “What could you do?”

Breath pants softly from your lips, the swell of your breasts pushing against the crisp dark linen of his neatly pressed shirt. Mouth parted invitingly, your own eyes dipping briefly to his own, flicking over curiously—absently. Something flits through your gaze, resistance draining from your form, almost melting against him. At last.

His heartbeat spikes, temperature raising as your hands raise from his chest to his shoulders. Almost inquisitively, hesitant of what’s happening. Push up onto your tiptoes, eyes again flicking down to his mouth. His head quietens, memories of what you were talking about vanishing, zeroing on the offer you’re laying out before him. How your eyes are clouding, and you’re…

A snarl rips from his throat as you slam your heel on his toe, landing a brutal kick to his shin. Darting out of his hold, stumbling backward. “I could do that, for starters,” you huff, breathing heavily as you regain your sense now that his power isn’t utterly overwhelming you. He could expand it to reach you, though. “I’m not as helpless as you might think, Rhys. So piss off.”

Fury clouds his vision, darkness wrapping around his mind.

Sharp, glittering talons breech your mind, keeping you frozen to the floor. Back turned on your High Lord. Can’t even swallow, rooted to the spot.

“And what about now?” He growls, softly. Shoes tap lightly along the marble floor, leisurely and refined. A beast who knows his prey is trapped. “What would you do against another with my set of gifts, hm? Your mental walls are as strong as tissue when you’re drunk.” Mind is pulsing, awareness prickling your skin as those talons scrape menacingly against your walls, cupping your conscious in the palm of his hand. As if those claws encapsulate your entire body, skin littered with goose-pimples.

“Rhys…” Your voice is strained, dragging against the rawness of your throat. Heat radiates into your back, powerful arms snaking around your middle, keeping you tight to his chest. Hips pressing into your ass. Spine curves subconsciously, pushing into him. “Why do you insist on making me worry so much?” He whispers beside your ear, one hand gliding up over your front, brushing up the line between your breasts. Cupping your throat; holding, lightly. Tipping your head back so it’s resting against his shoulder. “Do you enjoy seeing me like this? Enjoy these arguments, hm?”

A shiver licks its way down your spine at the softly-spoken roughness of his words. “I don’t…” Swallow. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Fingers are trembling with indecision. You should pull him off you, shouldn’t allow this type of touching. Blatant and unrestricted. Burning through your clothes.

“No?”

Heart spikes at the lilt. Swallow again beneath his palm, wrapping around to the base of your neck. “It’s my choice is I want to go out…” you manage, breathing heavier. Head spinning from how his scent is overpowering you, power thrumming in the air, buzzing beneath your skin. Zapping at your clit, making you ache. “It’s my body, Rhys…”

“I don’t think it’s truly yours right now is it, little lynx?”

Awareness prickles at your skin, nipples peaking beneath your dress—there’s no way he could miss it. Neither that nor the stiffening of your body as you try to regain some control over yourself. Try to find those lethally sharp talons, and push them from your mind, one at a time. “That’s not fair… Let me go,” you manage steadily, hands overlapping his own, fingers settling between his own, attempting to weakly tug him away.

His lips part in a smile, brushing against your cheek, the weight of his piercing gaze heating your features. “Do you really want that?” He asks, hand tightening around your throat, possessive ownership. Like a collar. Your temperature spikes at the low implication—how could he possibly know… “Rhys…” you warn. Try to. It sounds a little too close to a whine for your tastes. He hums against your back, something turning to molten liquid between your thighs.

Grit your teeth, pulling harder at him, attempting to squirm away. Shifting in his tight hold, one arm still wrapped flush over your abdomen, pressing you back into him. “Rhys, let go of me.”

Quiet stretches between you, then his hold tightens almost imperceptibly, giving you a suggestive squeeze. Like he won’t let you go, like your demand means nothing to him, because he doesn’t need to listen to you. You’re already his, he knows you completely and utterly; he knows you don’t want him to listen to you.

But then he releases his hold on you, and cold rushes your back. Steps in front, towering over you. “I may have let you run free, but I doubt you would have enjoyed being held captive by another male,” he drawls lowly, hands sliding into his pockets, the portrait of lethal grace. Pulls back, standing to his full height, marking how the breath puffs from your parted lips, peering up at him hungrily. Do you even know how you’re looking at him?

Takes a step back, then turns on his feet, prowling off deeper into his home. Aiming for his office, if you remember correctly. Peers at you from over his shoulder, lips twisted into a feline grin, “you know you’re always welcome to spend a night in. I’m sure the alcohol in the cellar will be of a much finer quality.”

Then he’s disappearing off through a doorway, leaving you staring after him. Body unnaturally flushed, despite the lack of wine in your system.

————

It’s long past midnight and you’re long past sober.

Not enough to be blackout but rationality has long since left your body.

A droplet of wine trickles from the corner of your mouth and you hastily lower the bottle to feel as it drips down to your chest, seeping into the fabric of your night robe. Quickly dry the wet spot, disliking the way the material stuck to you. Wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, gripping the neck of the wine bottle, wondering what havoc you could wreak.

You could go out into the night…nose scrunches at the idea. You’re all cozy and tucked away in here, no way you’re going to change into a tiny dress and heels that make being out and drunk even more dangerous. You could go to bed…but that’s boring, and you’re wide awake. Slightly hungry, too. Lick your lips as an idea springs to mind, grabbing another bottle as you go. Mouth quirks upward as you imagine the chaos you’ll get to inflict upon your unsuspecting High Lord.

————

Push the door wide without knocking and saunter in, drunkenly wobbling on bare feet.

“Morning, Rhys,” you greet, violet eyes flicking up to meet your own the second you were in view. He switches his attention to the antique clock ticking on a wall, checking the time. You are, unfortunately, correct. It is, technically, morning. “Good morning,” he drawls, sitting upright, attention skating to the tops of your thighs, the hem of your silky night top barely swaying over the skin. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”

You’re already at his desk by the time he’s finished his question, pushing the bottle over. “How well can you handle your liquor, High Lord?” You ask mischievously, challenge gleaming in your gaze. Violet dips to how your hand is wrapped around the neck of your own bottle, raising it to your lips; drinking deeply. “Better than you, at the very least,” he replies, noting the patch of damp fabric around your neck.

A scowl creases your brows as you glare at him, taking another sip before you do anything rash. “You’re being disagreeable,” you snap, drying the edges of your mouth with your thumb. Enjoying how intently he’s watching. He quirks a neatly groomed brow, challenge lighting his violet eyes. “I am?”

“Just drink the damned thing,” you mutter, folding your arms over your chest stubbornly. “Shouldn’t you be leaping for joy that I’m not ‘putting myself at some other male’s mercy’,” you mimic, lowering you voice in a poor attempts to match his own.

Lips quirk as the stopper vanishes from the bottleneck, leaning back in his chair, taking a decadent drink of the lovely wine. Heat pools between your thighs at the roll of his throat. Then he’s lowering it to his desk, setting it down on the mahogany. “So you’ve decided to put yourself at mine instead?” Nose wrinkles at how he’s phrasing it. “I should have poisoned yours.” Violet eyes gleam with mischief. “It’s not too late,” he hums, attention flicking to the wine before him.

Roll your eyes, muttering under your breath, taking another gulp…and you’re out. Scowl deepens as you glare. It was practically full five minutes ago. Grumble to yourself, on the brink of turning to return to the cellar, when he winnows to be at your back. Arm is again pressed over your abdomen, except this time his hand is splayed lightly. Breath catches in your throat as he keeps you tight to his chest.

“Where do you think you’re going, little lynx?” He asks beside you ear, breath feathering over your skin. Brow narrows, head instinctively tipping back to rest against his shoulder, trying to peer up at him. “I’m getting another,” you respond, practically jumping at the opportunity to lean back against him; relieve the weight from your tired feet. Lips quirk, feeling you sink into him. Magic zips across your skin, then he’s raising something to your mouth.

Eyes flick down, spotting how he’s called over his own bottle, gently putting it against your lips. Encouraging you to drink. And maybe— No, you definitely flick your tongue out over the head, guessing at the kind of reaction it will evoke from the male. Hand tightens over your abdomen, but other than that, he merely tilts the bottle higher, watching as the liquid pours into your mouth. Raises it higher, greedily marking how a drop or two trickles down the corner of your lips.

Scowl at him when he steps away, moving to wipe away the dampness before it can splash down onto your night robe. But he spins you around, violet eyes commanding you not to do a thing. Damn him.

Instead, he grips your chin, tipping you upward. Feeling at the droplet cascades down to the hollow of your throat, reaching your collar bones— “Rhys!”

Muscles tense as he attaches his mouth over the bare skin, lightly sucking away the alcohol. Swallow as his tongue flicks out, softly, with slow, gentle strokes. Lapping up the warm path. Hands tremble at your sides, caught between shoving him away and tugging him closer. “Rhys…” you mumble, voice fragile in the quiet. Travels up your neck, flicking out beneath your jaw, tasting your skin, licking the corner of your mouth. Pulls away with hunger in his eyes. Knees feel weak, trembling at the thrumming intensity about him.

You swallow heavily, heartbeat spiking at that male look. “What…?” Peer up at him, spine tingling with anticipation, fingers trembling with uncertainty. His tongue again flicks out over his lip, heat flaring between your thighs, observing cautiously. Clear your throat, trying desperately to pull out from his hold. “Bold move.”

The High Lord raises a single brow, violet sparkling in his gaze. “It was nothing of the sort,” he counters smoothly. You frown up at him, “do you do that with all you lady friends, Rhysand?” Stars glitter in his eyes, mirth dancing, “male friends, too.”

You scoff, batting his chest once, “I’m being serious.” A low chuckle drags from his throat, his hands settling on your hips softly, touch like a brand. “Are you interested in seeing a truly bold move?”

Lips part at the blatant invitation, staring at him. Eyes flick away temporarily, considering. Return to his after a second of contemplation. Shrug your shoulders nonchalantly. “How bad could it be?”

A feline smile graces his hellish mouth, then he’s pushing you backward, walking you until his desk digs into backs of your thighs. One hand steadies yourself on the surface, the other landing high on his upper arm, over the swell of well-earned muscle. Quirk your brow in competition. “My, my, Rhysand. How brazen you are—”

His mouth attaches to the sensitive skin of your neck, sealing over a point between your shoulder and throat, sucking and nipping.

Mouth parts in surprise, back arching into him. One of his own hands winding around your waist, making your spine curve as his hips press against your own. Fingers press into him at the abrupt move forward, the way he’s pinning you to his desk as he laps over your skin. Taking what he wants.

“Rhys…” you murmur, breathing a little faster than you were a few moments ago. He doesn’t pull away, switching to a spot lower down, bringing his canines out this time. Gasp as they prickle at your throat, scraping across your skin. “Rhys, stop,” you mumble, pushing lightly at his shoulder.

He doesn’t budge.

Heart picks up a beat as he bites harder, making you hiss. Legs turning weak as he keeps you still, hips pressing tight into your own while he occupies himself with your taste. “Cut it out,” you hiss, temperature rising as you push harder. “I know you’re not that drunk, Rhys. You’ve barely had anything, so—”

You get a little dizzy as his hand slides down the curve of your ass, settling over top with male propriety. Squeezing with interest. Back arches, arms twisting up over his broad shoulders. He growls softly against your throat, nosing at the bruises he’s already begun painting onto you. Nips at a space beneath your jaw. Breath catches in your throat as he pulls away, standing up to his full height. “Bold enough for you?”

Heart picks up speed again, uncontrollable heat pooling between your legs, surely dense enough he’ll be able to scent it by now. Blatant want.

Raise your hand before you can think twice, smacking him square across the jaw.

Violet eyes widen, staring at you. Gingerly raises his fingers to feel the sting of the skin. Watches you, features unreadable.

“I told you to stop,” you grit out, pulling your hands to your chest, shielding yourself. “What’s wrong with you? You’ve been acting off since this morning.”

A low snarl drags from his throat then, hands gripping your hips tighter, pressing into the earlier formed bruises. “So you’re back to acting like this, huh?” You swallow at the tone, the rough drag of the letters as they leave his tongue. Straighten your spine. “Like what?” You snap, attempting to edge away as much as you can, shifting your weight more onto the desk. Legs parting a little in the process.

It’s space he quickly takes advantage of, stepping to be closer between your thighs, pushing you back so you’re almost seated atop the surface. “Pretending,” he growls. “Teasing.” Hands settle around your waist. “Taunting.”

Lip curls back from your teeth, “you aren’t entitled to my affections, High Lord.” He laughs, roughly, palms splaying flat against your skin. An arrogant presumption. Shifts you so you’re fully on his desk, allowing him to press between your thighs. “How much wetter did you get from having my title on your tongue?”

Arousal turns molten in the pit of your belly, hands flatten against the mahogany, steadying yourself as he presses in. “That’s none of your business,” you breathe, shifting backwards. “Even in your position, you keep your nose out of my life, Rhysand.” He hums, the sound rumbling in his chest, peering down at your from his vantage point. “Weren’t you the one to come drunkenly stumbling into my office?” He drawls, mouth so close to your own you can practically feel its softness. “Barely dressed, at that. What sort of message do you think that sends?”

Brow narrows, attempting to glare up at him. “I think it shows that I expect basic decency from you, and that I don’t think I’ll get taken advantage of for respecting your request to be a little more careful where I drink.”

“Maybe I should listen to what you’re saying,” he growls softly, peering down at you. “But I don’t think that would be the right way to bed you.”

A wave of arousal crests over you, washing over your body, ravishing it with heat. Thighs part wider for him, speechless from the brazen answer. “That’s a hell of a lot of assuming you’re doing,” you manage weakly, on the verge of succumbing to him entirely. Mouth quirks into a distinctly Rhys-like grin, “tell me I’m wrong.”

The challenges ripples across your skin, prickling beneath the intensity of his gaze. As though he’s stripping you naked, inch by inch. Swallow around the pressure that’s contracting your throat, violet tracing its roll. “I…” Heart kicks up, heat bubbling between your thighs, anticipation thick enough to be cut with a knife. Swallow again.

“I thought not.” Then his mouth is forcefully crushing against your own, hands roughly gripping your waist; your hips. Dragging you to be tight against him, thighs pushed so ankles lock at his back. Tongue pries your lips apart, stroking over your own, gathering, tasting you. Groans roughly into the hot, open-mouthed kiss, holding you flush to his chest. The swell of your breasts rises and falls with the hurried pants, temperature spiking as he invades and conquers, waging war on your body. Taking it for his own.

Eyes flutter shut, and he’s shoving you back onto his desk, ink pots spilling, papers scattering, shooting up before raining to the floor. Mouth detaches from your own, only to reattach to that— “fuck…” He targets it mercilessly, scraping the sharp point of his canines over the sensitive patch, biting roughly, marking. Spine arches upward, legs locking firmly around his hips as he thumbs away the straps of your night gown. Pushing them off your shoulders, practically tearing the material away to make room for his tongue; his teeth.

The High Lord leaves a path of bruises in his wake, nipping and kissing his way to your breasts. Gasp when his licks over a peaked nipple, fingers threading in his hair, nails scraping. “Rhys…” you pant, hips winding, bucking against his own, feeling the prominency of his own arousal. How big he is. Good Gods.

Pulls away, chest rising and falling slightly, staring down at you with dilated pupils. A beast taking in his catch for the night. Staring down at his meal. It makes heat swarm your body, breathing quickening. “What are you waiting for?” You pant, staring up at him, trying not to think about how ink is almost certainly staining the soft fabric of your night shift.

Teeth flash in a vicious smile. “I thought you didn’t want this?” Brow narrows, lip pulls back from your own teeth. Move to shove away from him, but his palm presses down over your sternum, pinning you effortlessly to his desk. “I don’t,” you snap weakly, the pressure from his hand keeping your voice soft. He hums in response, then your legs are being forcefully unhooked from his hips. Fingertips bite into the underside of your thighs, and then they’re pushed back, positioned close to your sides, bent at the knee.

“Rhysand!” You snarl.

Palm smacks over your mouth as he licks up your centre. Hissing at the pleasurable violation.

He pulls back, grinning arrogantly from between your thighs, lips glistening. “You taste like you want it.”

“Well. I don’t,” you manage to grit out, hands clenching into fists. His brow quirks, seeing through your lies, but makes to retract from your aching cunt. You hiss softly, ankles locking as your legs hook over the broad width of his shoulders. “You’ll damn well finish what you started, High Lord.”

Rhys chuckles roughly, sending fire licking between your thighs, more wetness pooling as he drags it out. “So demanding,” he taunts, “and here I was, thinking about giving it to you for free.” He stands up to his full height, pulse spiking as his dexterous finger drop to the ties of his leathers, slowly pulling them loose. “But I suppose if I’m going to give you something, it’s fair to get something, in return.”

Throat dries out as he pushes away the constriction, large hand wrapping around his cock, allowing it to rest heavily over your cunt. “Don’t you dare,” you hiss, attempting to push up from his desk. Sharp talons pierce through your foggy mental walls, forcing you back down. Laughs cruelly, heat pounding between your thighs. Almost begging for him to slide home. To slam in to the hilt. The idea alone nearly makes your eyes roll form pleasure.

His grin widens as if he’s read your mind, arousal wrapping around your senses, filtering into your body through your lungs. Your own personal aphrodisiac.

“Don’t I dare what?” He taunts. Lethally quietly. Marks the roll of your throat.

“You know what I’m talking about,” you manage shakily, fingers gripping the edge of the desk, thighs subconsciously parting. His hips pull back, tip catching on your clit as he goes, making you flinch. Presses himself to the soft, wet dip. Positioning himself at your entrance. “I don’t think I do,” he murmurs back, leaning over your body, caging you in, hands wrapping around your wrists. “Tell me. Tell me what you don’t want me to do.”

Need pulses in your veins, short-circuiting your already hazy mind.

“Fuck me,” you manage, eyes glued to his lips, close enough to brush your own should you rise from the surface. “Don’t fuck me,” you breathe, struggling to keep your lids from fluttering shut. He offers a non-committal hum, violet dancing with mirth, lips quirking into a smirk. “What a shame.”

He slams in to the hilt.

A long moan drags from your lips, involuntarily tightening around him, hips pressing flush to the backs of your thighs. Spine bows from the furniture, eyes squeezing shut to keep in the tears of pleasure. You can only imagine how he would crow with cockiness if he saw how good you’re feeling. Breathe out shakily, and immediately suck another down. Open your mouth to speak, but he draws back, and slams in.

Air is shoved from your lungs, needing to make room for him, to accompany his size. Head tips back, eyes squeezed shut, fingers grasping at something to hold on to. His large hands grip your hips, pressing against the painful bruises, setting a brutal pace, pounding into you again and again. Pleasure blinds your vision, wildly grappling for something to hold onto, to keep you steady, ink wetting the pads of your fingertips.

He doesn’t allow you time to rest, not even a second. Slamming into you, touching those spots that make you sob, tears cascading back into your hair. He curses, low and vicious, attention glued to how you’re taking him. Wet squelches ring through the office, shallow pants and rough groans accompanying in the background.

Manage to crack your eyes open, peering up at him: flushed skin, colour tinting his cheeks, dark, inky swirls peeking from beneath the slightly unbuttoned shirt. Hands using your hips to slam you back against him, making certain he gets everywhere you need him. Thumb brushes over your clit, and you gasp. Nails pierce the wood, crying out in pleasure as he completely overwhelms you. Mind goes dumb, narrowing in on the feel of him, how he’s pressing against every delicious place. You don’t stand a single hope of lasting.

“Rhys…!” You whimper, teeth biting down into your lower lip.

Violet latches onto you, pinning you beneath him. “Close?” He smirks, thumb gently circling your clit, just adding that delicious edge for you to ride on. Cocky bastard. You would tell him as much if you had any capacity left for speech. “I thought you didn’t want me to fuck you?” He mocks, the lilt of his voice causing you to tighten around him. “I thought you would have hated this. Are you going to cum while hating me, too?”

Leans closer, the angle of his cock shifting within you. Tilting your hips upward a little.

Lips part as your orgasm lights your entire body, waves of pulsing heat and pleasure rolling through. Toes curl, eyes roll, spine bows. Arcing toward him like he’s pulling at your waist. Dear God above me… His violet eyes weight down on you, practically able to feel as they rove across your body, taking in your pleasure as it crashes into him.

Hips stutter, throwing you off, sending fresh, stronger waves coursing through your thighs. Hot cum spills into you, feeling how it fills you up, putting himself inside of you. Marking his territory. You’re his. His to pleasure, his to fuck, his to own. Utterly submitted.

Teeth bite into your throat as he rides out the aftershocks of his orgasm, tugging your head to one side to give him clear access. Stamping his ownership into every available point on your body. There’s no way he’ll allow you to cover those. He’d only create more, in increasingly obvious spaces, until his bruises are scrawled across every inch of skin. Scent infused with your own.

Rhys’ mouth finds yours, lips parting, tongue flicking over the roof of your mouth. It’s slower than before, a more leisurely exploration. There’s no hurry now. He’s taken you for himself. Can have you whenever he pleases in his mind. You moan softly, worn out from the strain of withstanding such intensity.

He pulls away, hand tangling in your hair, raising from the surface. “I suppose you positively despise me now?” He asks, tone lilting with mocking grace. Eyes gleaming with mirth. You scowl, inky fingers threading in the soft, silky locks. “I fucking hate you,” you snap in response, tugging his mouth back over your own.

Rhys laughs into the kiss, hips pressing back against your thighs, keeping his cum deep inside. Reminding you of the power he now has over you. Legs tighten, encouraging him to use it. To take advantage of it again.

Stars dance in violet eyes, a dark promise conveyed with a single look.

He’ll make you cum again and again until you’re begging for reprieve. And even then he’ll force one after the other, until you’re turning limp in his arms.

It’s not something you fear.

General Taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022

Rhys Taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

#October #Rhys #Rhysand #Rhys x reader #Rhysand x reader #Dark!rhysand #dark!rhysand x reader #Rhysand smut #dark!Rhysand smut

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere Rhysand Headcanons (General)

"You're mine, but if you don't agree, maybe I should convince you to accept it." — Rhysand.

❝ ⭐ — lady l: I've been thinking about him a lot lately, so take a few hcs of him 😇. I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! 💜

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, manipulation, loss of mortality (?), mention of kidnapping and death.

❝⭐pairing: yandere!rhysand x gender neutral!reader.

Rhysand has lost a lot during his life and has experienced and witnessed unimaginable horrors. These experiences, these memories, made him who he is. Having lived a large part of his life witnessing cruelties and committing some of them, he never thought he could become so passionate, so obsessed with someone.

But you attracted him in a way no one ever had before. Maybe you might be his mate or someone he really grew to adore, but you were his. You became his the moment your eyes met his.

Your touch, your presence, everything about him yearned for you. He wondered how someone like you could love someone like him, marked by darkness and pain. But it didn't matter, because he was determined to protect you, to love you in a way he never thought he was capable of.

You became his light, his reason to fight the shadows that haunted him. And despite all the suffering he carried, he found comfort in your arms, knowing that, with you, he had finally found something he could love for his entire immortal life.

Rhysand tries his best to contain his obsession to himself, his darkest thoughts and feelings towards you because he knows they're not right. He's fully aware that this is wrong, that the way he feels isn't normal, but... He can't control it. He can't control what he feels.

You make him doubt his own morals, make him question how he should really think and feel. Everything he believes becomes wrong when you enter his life. Rhys knows it's wrong to force someone to be with him but then why does it feel so right to you? Why does the way your fingers intertwine with his feel so right?

Rhysand isn't the type to kidnap you on sight, no, he'll only do it if he really has no choice. He may try to manipulate you, offer you to live with him in Velaris, or offer you a job and a place in the Inner Circle. He will subtly try to make you get used to him and the people in his life.

Rhys is a master at manipulation and lies, and although he doesn't like manipulating you, he will if you are defiant. With his daemati powers, he can easily invade your mind and force you to do things you don't want to do. Even if you have strong mental walls, he can still break through your defenses. It's not something he wants to do, but he's not against it either.

He is a High Lord and he wants to have control over everything. About his Court and about you. Rhysand is controlling by nature and the idea of ​​not being able to keep you under his control leaves him distraught. Like a thorn in his side, he will be uncomfortable with this. You need to be his, even if it's not of your own free will.

To say Rhysand is possessive is an understatement, he is completely possessive and jealous over you. Just the idea of ​​you being close to someone other than him makes him furious. Fae males are known for being possessive and you are no different. He will have no qualms about killing anyone who gets too close to you. You are his, let that be clearly marked in your head.

If you're human, he'll probably find a way to turn you into a fae. Maybe using the Cauldron's powers or combining those of the other High Lords, but you won't die. He will make sure of it.

Because he is a complete manipulator, Rhys can use his mental powers to drive people away from you. He can easily slip through their minds and make them hate you, and despise you. Your friends and family have become repulsed by you, all thanks to him. And when you finally go into his arms for comfort, Rhysand will be satisfied. He is the only one for you.

You will be intensely pampered. Rhys loves giving you gifts, from expensive and rare jewelry to anything. You will be spoiled and adored by him. Massages, food, anything you want will be yours. Just ask and he will give it to you. Everything to make you happy. Speaking of which, Rhys would probably love to take care of your wardrobe. He would choose your clothes and they would always match his.

Once Rhysand became obsessed with you, your life would take an unexpected turn. As much as he wants you to be with him willingly, he will have no problem forcing you to do so. Maybe he feels bad, but seeing you next to him makes him forget it quickly. There is no way to escape him, Rhysand is the most powerful High Lord in history and has very competent means of bringing you back. You're stuck with him for the rest of your immortality.

He would destroy the world behind you and anyone who tries to help you will also be destroyed. But if you play your cards right, you could end up becoming his consort and without any kind of freedom or privacy.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #yandere acotar #yandere a court of thorns and roses #rhysand x reader #dark!rhysand #dark!rhysand x reader #yandere rhysand #yandere rhysand x reader #yandere rhysand headcanons #rhysand headcanons #headcanons #yandere headcanons #dark!rhys #dark!rhys x reader

[ghostbutaliveidk]

HOUSE PET

Pairing - Cassian, Rhysand and Azriel x reader

plot/summary - You accidentally find yourself in front of the three most dangerous men in the world, and they decide to take you and keep you as a house pet.

Warnings - NONCON, BDSM elements but it's not actual bdsm because it's noncon. Spanking. Petplay. Anal. Degradation. Humiliation. Dacryphilia. Face slapping. Forced marriage.

Chapter specific warnings will be added to the chapters.

Chapter 1

#rhys #rhysand #rhysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x you #cassian #cassian x reader #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x y/n #dark fic #tw noncon #tw degradation #tw humiliation #acotar #a court of thorns and roses

[throneofsapphics]

haunt me like the wind that blows 

Feysand x f!Reader 

(part two) (part three)

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

Word Count: ~1.8k

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

A/N: mind the warnings!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You could make it less painful for yourself.” 

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

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

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

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

#acotar fic #feysand x y/n #feysand x reader #dark!feysand #poly!feysand x y/n #poly!feysand x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x reader #feyre archeron x y/n #feyre archeron x reader #I need to stop writing and sleep why is this coming out of my brain

[lovelyladyabsinthewrites]

Everything Stays

Pairing: Rhysand x Sister!Reader

Warnings: this made me feel things 🥲, canon character death, war, trauma, grief, siblingxsibling, regret, guilt/shame, Rhysand's family have names in this fic, fingering, blame, sorry no happy ending 🙃, goes downhill very fast, so yeah be prepared for that, had a deep hunger for a big bowl of sadness

Words: 4857

Summary: You should have been there with your mother and sister. You should be dead

"What are you doing here?!" Your mother's hiss would put a stop to any fun you and your brother were having. Really, it was rather dangerous for a young fae child like you to follow close behind your mother and brother as they traveled to the Illyrians mountains. The war camps weren't meant for little girls. If someone else had found you, they would have immediately clipped your wings before your father could get ahold of you.

Elowen usually had a gentle personality but when of her children dared to act stupidly, she wasn't afraid to show a bit of tough love. Especially toward her stubborn daughter. Little Isolde didn't mind being left back at father's court.

"Run!" Rhysand shrieks at you with a wild grin while Cassian hoots and hollers in support.

With a squeal, your wings start to flap; preparing your body to pick up wind. Only you're not fast enough for take off. Elowen grabs you by your ankle before you could really put distance between you and ground. Not like that would help you much. Your mother was a fast flyer.

"I tell you to stay home for a reason! You could've been killed following us!" Then she turns her attention to the two boys who were attempting to sneak away. "And you two! Both of you knew and let her? You're supposed to look after her."

"But I wasn't hurt!" You argue, trying to twist yourself out of your mother's grip. "I kept up with all of you without even being spotted!"

She's exasperated by you, you could see that on her face as she pinches at the bridge of her nose. "You willful girl."

You think she's upset or even worse, disappointed, until you watch her shoulders move as she chuckles softly. You may exhaust her, but you're constantly surprising her.

"As punishment, you have to stay by my side at all times when we're in the war camp. Understand?" Elowen chides but it was a fairly light sentence for you.

Smiling over at your brothers, they share your sentiment with their own large grins.

It was hard enough separating you from Rhysand to begin with, but since Cassian joined the family it was now near impossible to separate you from the two of them.

The three of you would not have carefree childhoods. Elowen knew this as she watches the three kids run around in the tall grass before Rhys and Cass were forced to go down to the base and train with the other young bloods.

Her eyes are glued particularly to you and Rhys who is fixing a weed that took the shape of a common flower into your hair. He's proven to be the sweetest brother through the years. First with you then with Isolde, but you had a special place in Rhys' heart. There was a depth to the relationship between the two of you that your mother couldn't quite place. If it were any other children, she would say that they might have had a crush on each other. That they were in love. Which to Elowen, looking at you and your brother, seemed obvious. Of course there's love between the two of you. You're siblings and strikingly close in age. However, sibling love wasn't it either.

"Mama!" your hands grasp at her arm, jerking to get her attention. Owlishly blinking, she gazes down at the roundness of your face. "Rhys and Cass says it's time for them to head to training. And you said I can't be away from you at the camps, so. . ." To make a point, you tug her toward where said boys were already heading down the mountain to where the Illyrian camp was.

Elowen breathes out a laugh and nods. She lets you continue to pull her along the path, her wings unfurling. You marvel at them. They were living testament to the grace and strength of your mother. You hope to one day have wings as beautiful as her's.

The dress your mother made you for your coming of age ceremony was by far her best work yet. Isolde oo's and ah's at the glittering jewels that look like stars and the shining of the silver thread meticulously stitched into it. She's gentle with the way she touches the dress, as if it were a sacred garment.

You kneel down with her on the ground. "Mother really outdid herself this time, didn't she?"

Isolde nods enthusiastically. "I don't know how she does it. She's so fast with needle and thread." You saw the admiration in her eyes. Much like you did, Isolde adored your amazing mother. She'd been learning how to sew slowly, even embroidery similar to the fine details on your dress.

Lovingly, you play with one thick strand of her dark hair. Play with it and catch the undershades of it from the sunlight. Isolde had the darkest hair that it looked the darkest shade of blue. "Are you excited for tonight?"

Your younger sister snorts a laugh, something she'd picked up from you much to your father's dismay. "This party is for you. And you're asking me if I'm excited? Are you excited?"

Indifferent, you shrug. This would just be like the many other parties and balls put on through Prythian. Only difference was that it was dedicated to you. Honestly, you had more fun watching your siblings enjoy themselves. Especially when Rhysand would dance with Isolde and Elowen. Even cuter was Cassian stepping in to take her hand for his own dance.

"I guess I'm a little excited." You hum and stand back up to stretch your legs. "It's fun to watch all of the different courts mingle together. Looks weird how different each fae is from their respective court."

Isolde purses her lips, hands retracting from the gown as she gazes up at you with doleful eyes. "This party also means that father intends to find you a husband."

Yes, it was something both you and your siblings dreaded. The day your father would give you away to another important lord who would take you away from your family. Something Rhysand had brought up late last night when you'd snuck into his room. He knew it made grim pillow talk, but it was on both of your minds as your coming out ceremony. There would be nothing he could do to keep you in his arms. Not when your father was still the High Lord.

"Yeah. . . lets hope it'll take him a while to pick one out for me." You were still safe, at least for tonight. Tomorrow would be a different battle for you. "For now though, I'm free."

You don't like how your sister's expression is now heavy with sadness. For being younger than you, Isolde was already an inch taller than you were and easily wraps her arms around your neck to bring you into a hug. Your cheek brushes against the softness of her hair, inhaling the sweet jasmine that scented her tresses. Elowen once joked that the real parents to Isolde might as well have been you and Rhysand. Since your sister's birth, you and your brother did treat her like your baby. To the high faes, babies were more precious than any gold or gemstone and you and Rhysand treated her as such.

"I don't want you to ever get married." She whispers and you can't help the giggle that bubbles in your chest and past your lips. A sentiment she'd shared with you plenty times before. It was everyone's one major fear. Well, except for your father. He thought it was long past for you to be engaged. You'd heard him mention something about clipping your wings once. So that you wouldn't be able to fly away from your chosen spouse. Thankfully Elowen had quickly shut that down vehemently. No daughter of her's would have their wings clipped for as long as she lived.

"I know. I don't every want to get married either."

"Except for Rhysand?"

Sharply inhaling, you pull away from her to give her a stern look. "Isolde, we all know that's impossible. You shouldn't say those things out loud. What if someone else heard?"

"He'd be a good husband for you though! And that would mean you wouldn't have to ever leave us." she argues back.

She doesn't mean anything bad by it, but you couldn't risk anyone hearing your conversation. You lower your voice to a whisper. "He's my brother. No one in Prythian would allow it. Because. . . because siblings can't be mates. Can't marry each other."

Still not quite understanding, her lips fumble with more questions but you merely shake your head and pat her cheek.

"No more of this, Isolde. Please."

Hating to upset you, she closes her mouth and stiffly nods. Isolde murmurs out an apology but you dismiss it. There was nothing for her to apologize for.

You sigh and instruct her to start getting ready for the night's festivities. Ducking her head, she leaves you alone in your room to ruminate on your own dreary thoughts.

This truly was the beginning of the end for you.

Pleading with your own tears not to fall, you lean against a bedpost as it was the only source of support in that moment.

If only you were able to be with Rhys. To live out the rest of your days with him, happily ruling the Night Court together. If anyone knew of these thoughts you had, they would immediately condemn you. Marrying cousins was all fine and dandy, but immediate blood like siblings was another thing that was completely looked down upon both by the fae and human society. Rhysand would never be allowed to take over as High Lord and you would never be seen as a queen. Any children you had together. . . there'd be many cruel words slung at any children. In the courts, the lords regard you and your siblings as halflings due to your mother's Illyrian lineage.

Cassian was the only one worthy to know your secret, and apparently Isolde too to some extent, that you and Rhysand were actual mates. That rare connection which not many faes experience in their lifetime. Five years ago it finally snapped in place, confirming to your joy (and horror) that you and Rhysand were destined to be together in a intimate way. Rhysand was over the moon but understood the trouble that would come from this.

This was a secret difficult to keep hidden since you were official mates. Rhys would display the typical protectiveness of males when they're around their mate.

With stiff fingers, you lift up your hairbrush. You had to get ready too.

Through the whispers of your bond, you feel Rhysand's own trepidation.

Deep breaths, my love. Your mind attempts to soothe him, a hand to a cat's arching back. Rhysand's tendrils caress against that calming thought. You wish nothing more than to nuzzle against his conscious. Let Rhys sweep you up and take you back to the mountains. Back to the cabin that was filled with both wonderful memories and those splattered with blood. The only place where the both of you could be yourselves without discriminating stares.

You give yourself a once over when you finish putting on the last details of your outfit. A bundle of red poppies mixed with the dainty white dots of baby's breath are strewn in your hair. One who was savvy with the language of flowers would understand: poppies for 'I am not free' and baby's breath for 'everlasting love'. Your only flag of rebellion against the High Lord of the Night Court.

Outside in the hall, you already hear the faint sound of revelry vibrating from the main audience hall where drinks were freely flowing. A few sconces fixed to the corridor's walls cast a warm, orange glow that gave you a false sense of security. Instead of heading for the rest of the party, you turn the other way to where Rhys' rooms were. He probably wasn't ready yet. Your brother liked to be fashionably late to everything.

When you get to his door, you hear other voices from his side. The low, gravely chuckle of Cassian and Azriel's calming tenor. Being the typical snooping sister, you take a mini step forward, hold your breath and press your ear to his door.

"You have us. Tonight will be fine." Cass reassures his brother and you can practically image his broad grin that made his rugged features soften. "We won't let you do anything stupid."

That only causes your brother to groan. "You're the one who always encourages me to do stupid things!"

Az's laugh sounds incredibly close, in fact he probably already knew you were there on the other side eavesdropping thanks to his tattling shadows. "I'll be the one to make sure neither of you do anything stupid."

All three share another laugh. Your own smile curling on your lips made your cheeks hurt. How you loved your three idiots. Why couldn't the Cauldron have fated you to fall in love with Cassian or Azriel? It would make things easier for everyone.

I would not have it any other way. Rhys' voice rings in your head right before his bedroom door swings open.

You squeal and stumble backward but Rhys snags your waist and lifts you off of your feet to be unceremoniously thrown over his shoulder. "Put me down!!" The other two males playfully jeer at the little door mouse that was caught.

"Naughty girl!" He merely laughs and throws me onto his plush bed.

"You could have ruined my hair!" You glower at him once you finally manage to sit up. The three of them are giggling like school girls. You swat Rhysand's hand away when he tries to tuck a stray strand behind your ear.

"Ah don't worry. You still look drop dead gorgeous." Cassian grins. "Unfortunately for the males out there tonight. We fear Rhysand might claw out a few eyes."

"And it would serve them right for looking at his mate like that." You nod, supporting any and all eye gauging. That makes Cassian hoot a laugh.

Azriel chuckles as he goes to Cassian and throws an arm around the other's shoulder. "We'll wait for you two downstairs. Don't keep us waiting."

Their laughter was still audible, even with Rhys' bedroom door closed. Finally alone, Rhysand sinks beside you onto the bed. His fingers are soft as a brush against your cheek.

"You do look beautiful tonight." Rhysand murmurs in that sultry way that was an instantaneous knee shaker. "And I really fear I might attack any male that gazes at you with interest." The darkening tone of his voice tells you of what he wishes to do with you. His hand going to the back of your neck to press you closer to him was enough of a tipoff.

If you let him though. . . the other males at the party would be able to smell him all over you.

Choosing to be the responsible one, you pull away. "Rhys. You promised to be on your best behavior."

He just chuckles and pulls you toward him again. "I don't know what you're talking about. I am behaving, sweetling." His cheek brushes against your's as he goes in to graze your neck with his sharp teeth. The roaming hands on you said otherwise. Rhysand cupped your ass, nearly lifting you off the floor with his strength. "You, however, are not behaving. I can smell your needy pussy."

Your breath catches in your throat when he turns you around and bends you over his bed. You want to fight him off, really you do, but the moment he pushes the skirts of your dress up you knew you were a goner. You'd let him do whatever he wanted.

"Just a taste, sweet girl." Rhysand separates your thighs to reveal your glistening lower lips. He dips two fingers in you. Your fingers grip at the bed sheets while you smother your face to keep all moans inaudible. Hips betray you when you find yourself grinding against his fingers. The obscene squelching noise from Rhys pumping his fingers in and out of you has your whole body shivering.

Rhysand knew your body better than anyone else. Knew how to make you come undone with just a few strokes and rolling of your clit. Your pussy walls clench around his fingers, restricting their movements or trying to. Rhys was relentless, grinning at your pitiful cries, muffled by the blankets you smother your face with.

Pulling his fingers out as you finish riding out your orgasm, Rhysand licks away the milky cream that coated his fingers. You wonder how he plans on hiding his erection. It was obvious as it strained against the dark fabric of his trousers making a visible tent.

Nonchalantly, Rhysand helps you to stand after cleaning you up a little with a discarded shirt of his. "Alright. Now we're ready."

You gawk at him, your cheeks still flushed. "You're not ready! Look at your dick! Poor thing is straining in your pants."

He loudly laughs and reaches down into his pants to readjust his cock. Settling it against the band of his pants. "There. Better?"

"Not really since the others are going to-" Your brother cuts you off with a heated kiss.

"Stop fretting, sweetling. This evening is supposed to be fun right?" Rhys smiles, tucking a few strands of your hair back into place. He appraises your face by tilting it ever so gently to make sure nothing else was out of place. With a satisfied smile, Rhysand's hand falls to hold your's. "Lets go show everyone my beautiful girl."

Perhaps Rhysand did too well of a job in showing off his goddess-like sister because now all male eyes were glued to you. Hungry eyes that were starting to tick off your brother the longer he was by your side.

Eventually Azriel and Cassian pull him away, saying that they should get some drinks while you mingled.

You weren't alone for too long though. The High Lord of the Night Court takes Rhysand's place. He steers you toward his influential friends and fellow High Lords. Particularly the gold haired members of the Spring Court.

Cordially smiling, you play along. All the while you can feel Rhysand's eyes watching your every movement. His thoughts flowing freely to you. His jealous snarls when Tamlin dares to ask you for a dance has you giggling.

He was a good dancer, you'd give him that. Excellent on his feet. Easy on the eyes too (that musing had Rhys fuming).

As Tamlin twirls you around, you happen to catch your father and Tamlin's speaking to one another while casting glances over at the two of you.

You didn't like the way they conspiringly whisper to one another.

And neither did Rhysand as he and his brothers linger closely to eavesdrop. There was a slim chance that your father would betroth you to Tamlin, the youngest of the Spring Lord's sons. Ideally your father would want the eldest son, Pryr.

When the dance ends, you pull from Tamlin with a smile though he seems reluctant to release your waist. "Thank you for the wonderful dance, Tamlin."

"If you're up to it, I'd be more than happy to be your partner for the next." Tamlin proposes.

Not likely, Tam. You hear Rhysand hiss through your bond.

And on perfect cue, Isolde bounces between you and Tamlin. She beams up at you with those pretty amethyst eyes and gives you a quick wink. "Wow Tamlin! You were amazing! Can I be your partner for the next dance?"

You see he's prepared to say no but was struggling to phrase it as nicely as he could. "That's a wonderful idea, Isolde! A talent like Tamlin's should be shared." You turn expectantly to Tamlin. "You'll take care of her, right?"

"But-"

"Of course he will!" Isolde snatches Tamlin's hand and pulls him back to the dance floor.

You definitely had the best sister ever.

You flee to where your three Bat Boys were standing before Tamlin could realize what had just happened. Cassian is trying to hide his laugh.

"I don't think you could've gotten out of there faster than you did. Thought I saw your wings carrying you." Cass chuckles and hands you a glass filled with rose flavored alcohol. You lean along the wall with them, between Rhysand and Azriel, as you watch the rest of the partygoers. Tamlin's older brothers were stuck to their father as usual. The perfect sons. Observing as the High Lord of Spring murmurs to his oldest son. Pryr's eyes suddenly lock onto your's.

Quickly you avert your gaze and go to drinking from your glass.

Rhys doesn't miss it either.

Sweet days with your siblings were over and any thoughts of your engagement were set aside. War was battering the world at all angles that didn't leave you and your family exempt. A battering of wings against slings of arrows and offensive magic alike. You saw bodies fall from the sky. The dry dirt soaking up the still warm blood of comrades. You'll never get that smell out of your head for as long as you live. Nor the fear that seized you when you cared for a wounded Rhysand, Cassian or Azriel. Your fingers ached from the long hours you were forced to brandish your blade against oncoming enemies of Hybern.

You saw your mother and sister less and less. Your father raged that you should also be left behind with them. Being a female and all. There was no way that you were leaving Rhys' side. The High Lord of the Night Court really should have clipped your wings when he could. Constantly disobeying him thanks to the ability to fly, you followed the war camps much to his displeasure. He couldn't keep you away.

Rhysand himself tried a few times to talk you out of fighting alongside him. The hardening of your eyes was enough to shut Rhysand up and accept the fact that there was no getting rid of you. If it meant you could potentially die next to him, so be it. A death with Rhysand didn't sound so bad to you.

The four of you persevered though. Hybern was all but defeated. There were still a few lingering troops left in Prythian but nothing your army couldn't handle. It was the end of the road for them.

"Mother and Isolde will be in the southern Illyrian camp." You grip the small note in your hand, smiling. You hadn't seen them in months.

Rhysand pats his lap and you flutter over to him, perching yourself on his strong thighs. His elegant hand takes the note from you and examines it. "I don't think we'll be able to get there until tomorrow. There's still so much to be done here."

The tip of your cold nose finds warmth against Rhysand's neck. He puffs out a laugh from the contact and wraps his arm around you to offer you extra heat. "I'll have someone take over our own missive to let them know." Your fingers toy with the deep dip of Rhysand's collarbone. His eyes flicker as he uses his to reach out to someone through his daemati skill to have them pass it along to his mother and sister.

He's practically purring at your merest touch, his needy hands softly groping you.

You giggle and shake your hand. "Rhys. You said so yourself. We're quite busy." You were never one to deny your brother anything, but there were more important tasks to attend to than letting him rail you in his tent.

Dramatically, Rhysand throws his head back and sighs; hands reluctantly release you but not before he gave your ass a little smack. "As always you're right. Do you know how annoying that is?"

Chuckling you hold your hand out to him. "Come on. I want to finish up so we can see mom and Izzy bright and early."

The following morning you make your sleepy way to the river to refill your canteen.

Bobbing in the gentle waters were odd boxes.

Quizzically, you flick your hand to send your magic to fish them out. Once placed in front of your feet, you kneel to the ground and examine it. Doesn't look like anything out of the ordinary. But it's presence here in the mountains made you grab a knife to flip open one of the lids with the blade. Cautious.

Large, void amethyst eyes stare up at you.

The horrific sound of your screaming shattered the once quiet mountain. Earth shaking under you as you hold up Isolde's severed head, both hands clutching at her cold and stiff cheeks.

You just couldn't stop wailing.

Couldn't bring yourself to open the other box.

Even when tears cloud your vision, you can still make out the blurry features that had once been flush with life and love. Your screams were of utter pain, pure and guttural that were ripped so viciously from you.

You didn't notice the others crowding around you.

Didn't recognize your brother's hands or Azriel's scarred ones that hurriedly fly over your eyes. Someone removes Isolde's head from your grip.

You understand your body was moving. That someone was trying to quiet you with soft, tender words. Anything that would beckon you from your hysteria.

"We need to do something!" Cass' voice is so far away.

There's more screaming but you don't know if the voice voice still belonged to you. Didn't have the chance to find out before you black out.

Even when you come to, you're still in shock; unable to comprehend the savagery.

You'd been out for only a short amount of time but it was enough for you to have been moved to a bed. Did Rhys winnow you to the cabin?

The last person you were expecting to be in the room with you was the furious High Lord, your father, Rhain. When he registers that your eyes are open, awake, his stride is fast and soon he grabs the front of your shirt despite shouting coming from the healers.

"YOU."

Your lips dumbly part, words fail you as you attempt to weakly lift your arms to push him off of you.

But Lord Rhain gives you a good shake that rattles your brain in your skull. "You should have been with them." He kept shaking you. His words were hard to decipher as his speech became more growling than vocabulary.

"Let go of her!"

"She should be dead too!" You'd never seen such an expression on anyone's face. Not when you were killing others in the war. Rhain's features were twisted between the features of fae and monster.

Cassian and Azriel struggle to hold back the Night Court's High Lord. Especially in the state that he was in right now.

Rhysand trusts the two at his back to handle Rhain while he tends to you. "It's okay- Did he hurt you? Look at me, please."

Your eyes rapidly flutter, no dam was strong enough to stop the large tears that build over your eyelashes and drip down your cheeks. "I- What happened was real then. . ." You can't look at him. His eyes painfully remind you. . .

A sob is caught in your throat as your chest heaves. You turn your face to the side.

"The Spring Court did it." Rhysand hisses and grips your hands tightly in his. His warmth felt painful, like they would leave blisters to your ice cold hands. He repeats your name when your gaze wanders to Rhain still putting up a fight against the burly arms of your adoptive brothers. "Please look at me. My love, my heart, please look at me."

Lips quivering, you shake your head. "I can't. I can't. Your eyes-" You gulp down air as grief reaches high up into you and squeezes your heart. "Isolde- Isolde-"

"That's right! If you had been with them-" Your father's words were cut off by Rhysand's commandeering voice.

"Get him out of here!"

The bobbing heads of others gather at the door to assist the general and spy master.

Could. . . could you have prevented their deaths?

"Don't listen to him." Rhysand immediately reads that echoing voice. "None of this is your fault."

You'd just wanted so desperately to remain by Rhysand's side. Being away from him, well, you'd never accomplished being away from him except for when he went through the Blood Rite. You hadn't slept the entire time he and the others were fighting for their lives.

W-was this retribution for your abnormal relationship with your brother?

A ragged sob has you curling into yourself.

There was truth to Rhain's words.

"(y/n)." Rhys near pleading in tone. Through the telepathic bonds mates were graced with, you hear his actual begging.

Please look at me.

Don't believe our father.

(y/n).

Please.

I love you.

All Rhysand saw rolling in your mind was the image of Isolde's head in your trembling hands.

#reader insert #reader insert fanfiction #reader fanfiction #reader fanfic #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar #acotar x reader #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand acotar #rhysand fanfiction #rhysand #rhys acotar #rhysand x reader #rhysand fanfic #a court of thorns and roses fanfiction #a court of thorns and roses fanfic #a court of thorns and roses reader insert #a court of thorns and roses x reader #tw dark content #tw dark

[divinemare]

Tales Of Oceans and Shadows

(I’ve been dying to post this! It’s been on my drafts for so long, and I missed my babies so much!)

Just some little stories I imagined about Kallistrade and Azriel’s life after the end of Dark Tides.

Oh, Sweet Baby Nyx

summary: little nyx loves his aunt kallistrade, and gets really sad when she has to leave because of her busy pirate life, this time, he will definitely throw a tantrum about it.

Kallistrade wasn’t very good with little kids, she seemed to scare them, even tho she didn’t intended to do so. But when little Nyx arrived to her life, something changed for her.

It had happened the first time she stayed alone with him. Feyre was dead tired after barely any sleep because Nyx had had a rough night. Kallistrade had just arrived of a little trip to Skull Island she had taken of emergency for some issues that needed her urgent attention. She went straight to visit Feyre, and the poor female fell asleep immediately after placing Nyx in Kallistrade’s arms.

She hadn’t known what to do at first, she had even felt scared, not knowing if she was holding the baby right. But she hadn’t wanted to wake Feyre up, so instead went to look for Rhys. Kallistrade found the male sound asleep in his office desk, dead tired too. So she sent a panic alert down the mating bond to Azriel, begging the male showed up quickly.

Nyx had started to babble as if he was seconds away of bursting in tears, and Kallistrade had panicked even more.

“No, no. Don’t you dare, little kraken, don’t. you. dare,” she hadn’t known what she expected to achieve by threatening or pointing him out as if he was one of her crew members, but it had definitely not been that the little baby started smiling at her, and grabbed her finger in his tiny ones to start chewing on it.

She had been at a loss of words, completely shocked by the simplicity yet magnificent moment of the baby smiling up at her.

She immediately felt a protectiveness in her she hadn’t felt before, like that little baby had become something she would cherish and protect against any evil from the darkest and deepest of seas from now on and until the oceans completely dried.

Azriel had arrived just then, and when he had said he could take care of Nyx if she wanted to, Kallistrade immediately rejected his offer and walked away with the baby, telling little Nyx all the things she would show him one day when he grew up, all the seas she would take him to.

They had become inseparable since then. Nyx had fallen completely in love with his aunt, and the only time anyone would catch the mighty and dreaded Captain Devilsbane showing off her sweet bone, was when she was with her nephew.

But that had only made goodbyes even harder. As Kallistrade was regularly traveling all throughout the continent.

“Who would’ve said, that the oh-so-mighty Captain Devilsbane would have such a soft spot for babies,” Azriel laughed, leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed over his chest, and a broad smile while looking at his mate and nephew playing together.

“Don’t say that, he gets jealous, it’s only with this sweet little baby, right, little kraken? Only with you,” she approached the baby with a childlike smile on her face, while lowering her tone of voice ever so slightly.

“Softie,” Azriel mocked, and Kallistrade sent him a dead glare, nothing compared to her previous smile.

“Shut up, I saw you yesterday doing an airplane with a spoon to get him to eat,” the smile in Azriel’s face vanished, and it was Kallistrade’s turn to smiled proudly.

“We’re not talking about this with anyone.”

“Ever,” she laughed, confirming.

They both could have the biggest soft spot for Nyx, but like hell they would willingly admit it to their mocking friends.

It had been their night to take care of Nyx, since Kallistrade was leaving today for a mission in the western part of the Continent, they had offered to babysit so Rhys and Feyre could get a day off.

It was not often that they did babysit all day, since their house turned into a mad house with neither of them knowing what to do in some situations, but Kallistrade always missed her nephew when she was away, so having him a day —even tho it was always a hell of a ride—, didn’t hurt from time to time.

They would not be doing it again tho, in a long, long time. Nyx had recently learn how to walk, and it had progressively gotten worst when he started running. She had never ran so much in circles trying to catch a baby like last night. And Azriel had had to make his shadows envelop Nyx at all times in case he fell or ran into something. Poor shadows had gotten many hits, and they too didn’t want to repeat the occasion again.

“How was it?” When they arrived to the River Estate to drop Nyx off, Rhys had a cheeky smile on his lips when he saw how tired they looked.

“You are a-” Feyre raised an eyebrow to Kallistrade, reminding her of the presence of the little baby. “A son of the holy Cauldron and Mother. A warning that he could run now would’ve been nice!”

Rhysand laughed, taking his son in his arms and looking at him with proudness shining like starts in his night-sky eyes.

“I did not mentioned it?”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Ups, my bad.”

“You’re lucky Nyx is present, because I have a ton of colorful words to describe you right now.”

Rhysand laughed again, and left a sonorous kiss on his son’s head, that made the little toddler laugh.

“We’re sorry,” Feyre said with a smile, shining so glowy that Kallistrade couldn’t help but wink at her friend who had most certainly had sex.

“You’re forgiven. Considering I’m leaving now, and I’m gonna miss this little one.”

Nyx immediately stoped smiling at his father and turned his head to his aunt when he heard the word “leaving”.

“Aunt Lis, no!” He cried, and tried to reach out for her.

“Oh, I’m sorry, little kraken, I have work to do, and people to scare,” that did not help at all, and Nyx started crying for his aunt, so much so that Rhys had to let him go. “I promise I will be back soon with many many presents, ok?” When Kallistrade took the baby, she rocked him in her arms, trying to calm the salty tears that fell over his chubby cheeks.

And sure as hell she would live up to that promise. As she always did. There wasn’t a single travel, as small as it may be, where Kallistrade did not bring her nephew a ton of presents.

“Come on, now, sweetie, your aunt has to go,” Feyre picked up her son from the pirate’s arms and smiled adoringly as she watched her son shake one his little hands while wiping his tears with the other.

“Bye bye, aunt Lis,” his little sobs made all the three adults’ hearts melt.

Kallistrade lowered her hat in farewell to her nephew and his parents, Rhys and Feyre smiled at her and wished her a safe travel before turning around to go back home. While Azriel kissed his mate one last time before she boarded her ship.

Little Nyx watched with read eyes as his aunts ship sailed away, and he did not stay happy about it.

𓆉｡˚ ✧

“Rhys!” When Rhysand heard his mate scream out for him, he stood up from his desk so fast his chair fell to the floor and stormed out of his office with Azriel and Cassian following right behind him.

The three of them had been sharing a drink when they heard Feyre’s scream, and now stormed to Nyx’s nursery, where the female was.

“Feyre!” When Rhys bursted in, he saw his High Lady looking exasperated everywhere, and his baby was nowhere to be seen. “What happened?”

“He did it!” She said without even looking at the three males that looked confused.

“He did what, darling?” Mor, Elain and Amren had soon arrived, and were looking as worried as the three Illyrians.

“Nyx! He learned how to winnow! And now I can’t find him anywhere.”

Oh, good Mother…

Everyone looked at each other and sighed, they gad been dreading this day for months now.

They all took a different part of the estate to search, and Feyre alerted Nesta via daementi to look out wherever she could as well. Now practically everyone was in desperate search of the little heir.

“He’s not anywhere! I can’t find him!” Feyre desperately said after some time of looking.

“Feyre darling, calm down, we’ll-“

“Blimey, this kid learns fast,” both Feyre and Rhys heard on their heads, and instantly recognized that pirate slang. “Relax, he’s with me, landed right on my freshly washed deck.”

Both parents relaxed significantly, embracing each other with heavy sighs. When they parted, Feyre couldn’t help but to start laughing, and Rhysand followed right away.

“Did you find…? Uhhh, what’s going on?” Cassian entered the room with Azriel, then the others came in too with confused expressions.

“Have they…lost it?” Questioned Mor, and they all looked at each other as if confirming that theory.

“It’s ok, guys, don’t fall into insanity, we’ll find him,” Cassian tried to speak over the laughter of his High Lord and Lady.

“Don’t worry,” Feyre calmed her laughter to speak to the group. “He’s ok.”

“Did you find him?” Azriel asked, looking around for his nephew.

“No, Lis did. Or more like he found her.”

𓆉｡˚ ✧

“I want to see my own reflection in this floors, Gio,” Kallistrade ordered to the male mopping. “For the next you think it’s a good idea to throw up on my deck after too much rum, you think it twice.”

“Aye aye, Captain,” the male grunted, surely with a hangover.

Kallistrade went to check on the weather report with Maddox, when suddenly, a loud cry made everyone on deck turn their attention away.

“Mother’s tits!”

Kallistrade rushed to Gio, founding the great surprise of a little giggling toddler sliding in the wet wood of the deck.

“I’m sorry, Captain, he yest appeared outa nowhere,” the male pointed at the winged toddler, and Kallistrade couldn’t help but burst out into laughter.

She went to pick up the child, whose face went red when his aunt lifted him, giving her a look that said he knew he had done something bad.

“You naughty little sea monster.”

She informed Rhys and Feyre, who surely were losing their minds, that Nyx was with her, and after hey told her Azriel would be there soon to pick him up, she took the little boy to her cabin and sat him at her desk.

Nyx had grabbed her hat and put it on himself, and the sight of it was enough to make Kallistrade’s ruthless heart melt.

“I want to travel the seas with you, aunt Lis!” The child mumbled, and Kallistrade laughed sweetly, while she watched him try to use her telescope.

“On day you will, my little kraken, one day you will.”

#dark tides #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #acomaf #acosf #acowar #acotar fanfic #acotar fanfiction #acotar oc #azriel #kallistrade x azriel #azriel fic #azriel fanfic #azriel x reader #azriel x you #azriel x oc #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #tales of oceans and shadows #high lord rhysand #rhysand acotar #rhys #rhysand #feyre #feyre archeron #nesta archeron #elain archeron #cassian #cassian acotar #mor acotar

[vixenshiftsvrs]

I'm sorry but the unspeakable things I would do to have Eris, Cassian, Azriel, Rhysand, Helion, Casteel, Fenrys, Rowan, Lorcan, Aaron, Cardan and so on... just exist other than between pages is shocking like sweet fuck the things i would let these men do to me

#eris x reader #azriel x reader #rhysand x reader #cassian x reader #helion x reader #eris vanserra x reader #simon riley x reader #hobie smut #cassian x reader smut #miguel o'hara x reader #fictional men #dark romance #reading #booklr #books and reading

[a-court-of-smut-and-wingspan]

Working on a little Dark!Azriel/Reader tonight with a hint of CNC/dub con. I'm nervous about my first time writing smut, but I'm loving the way this is turning out so far.

Here is a little (unedited) Sneak Peek:

“What do we have here?” His voice is smooth as he stalks closer to the bed. “Could it be that I have caught a respectable lady in such a compromising position? Writhing in the darkness like nothing more than a common whore?”

“Y-you can’t be here. You must leave.”

The moonlight shines off of his vicious smile as he moves to kneel on your bed. “I don’t think you’re in the position of making demands. How would you mate feel if he found out you were touching yourself in his bed, with another man’s name on your lips?”

Your eyes widen and you move to put more space between you, but he is faster. In a second Azriel has his hand wrapped around your ankle and pulls you down the bed. Straddling you, he moved his dagger to your throat. He pushes it forward just enough that you feel the bite of the blade without it breaking the skin.

“Are you going to be a good girl and listen to me, or do I have to get more creative with my demands?”

“I can listen,” your voice is hoarse and tears are prickling in your eyes.

“Ah Ah,” he removes the dagger from your throat, but drags it down the front of your nightdress. “That’s not what I wanted to hear. Say it again, baby, this time make it pretty for me.”

Your breathing is ragged as you comprehend what he wants from you, “I can be your good girl. I promise.”

#azriel x you #rhysand x reader #dark!azriel

[chanel-23]

I cant find a story anymore , please help me .

It was about reader, azriel and rhysand. The reader was rhysands wife but he only took her, because he knew that azriel has feelings for her.

But as Rhysand goes under the mountain and found feyre he starts to treat reader bad.

So her and azriel become close again but when she finds out that rhysand only was with her, because of azriel she is amgry at both.

And the last chapter was about how reader cooked something for azriel and Azriel storms in,but she didnt know they are mates.

#acotar smut #azriel smut #azriel x reader #dark!azriel #rhysand #acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #azriel x readee angst

[tadpolesonalgae]

Moon Cycle

Dark!Rhysand x reader

a/n: this goes along with desk pet and play-mate 🧡💛

warnings: menstruation, mentions of non-con, references to play-mate, fluff (kind of?), hurt/comfort?

word count: 2,501

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

You wake to waves of heat rolling off your skin in wet waves, feeling damp and hyper-sensitive to temperature.

A single shift of your body, and you can feel the slickness between your thighs, far too spread out to be the results of his occasional midnight trips. You swallow thickly, heart thumping heavily as the first aches blossom through the right side of your abdomen, legs bending at the knees in attempts to relieve tension, but to little relief.

Gritting your teeth, trying to calm your pulse, you push back the blanket, keeping it as far from your legs as possible, hoping to keep the carnage to a minimum. Even in the dark the bloody patches are clear to see, eyes already well-adjusted to pick out the dry stains on the previously fluffy fur. Fear dilutes your scent, and as quietly as possible you attempt to roll from the floor bed, pulling the already-bloody blanket close should more begin to drip down your thighs.

Thankfully the blood hasn’t yet passed your knees, but now you’re upright you can feel things shifting, a wave of heat and nausea suctioning the strength from your muscles. On wobbly feet you tiptoe from the bed chambers, praying to the Mother you don’t wake him, fearing for your life as prey does near its hunter—a beast raised to kill.

You manage to make it to the large washroom, immediately dropping the blanket in favour of the roll beside the latrine, hastily tearing a sizeable few sheets away to fold up and place between your legs, temporarily buying you time to clean the murder scene on your inner thighs. Easing in a breath, you pull off the shorts, heading over to the basin, never having been more grateful for the instant water, turning on the cold tap as you attempt to rub the stains free.

Minutes later and you’re still scrubbing, aware of the blanket at your back that’s still caked in blood, so you push it into the empty bath, running cold water as silently as possible in the hopes of beginning to loosen the grip of the blood while you deal with the shorts. After a while you realise it’s the best it’s going to get, ringing the now off-white cotton over the side of the basin, refocusing to your thighs.

Fatigue weighs heavily on your body, eyes wishing to close but adrenaline keeps you awake and alert, moving through the familiar motions of removing more of the latrine roll and dampening it under cold water, dabbing at the dried stains, dislodging the grip it has on your skin. Aches become more prominent, a fresh wave of heat sweeping through you and you want to cry—but there’s no time for that. Instead you continue working on rubbing your skin clean, easing away the dark redness that’s blotchy and stubborn to move.

At last you’re free, and you turn to the blanket, having been left to soak for a while. You try layering roll over the stains in attempt to absorb the colour, but it seems firmly lodged in, and you don’t want to rub it which will result in pushing the stains deeper, only spreading them. You glance around the bathroom, finding twisted gratitude for Rhys’ luxurious taste. It’s not perfect, but it’s worth a try.

You reach for the powdered bath salts, drying your hands before tapping out some of the fine dust over the afflicted area, hoping it will do the trick. Your pulse kicks up, and you find yourself searching for something to do instead of anxiously waiting. You’ll have to find something to put on your lower half, but he rarely lets you know where clothing is kept—it’s rare enough you’re even allowed night robes since he sees no point in hiding your body.

Panic thrums beneath your skin, and you briefly consider a trip down to the kitchen where there must be vinegar, and if you’re lucky, something else acidic, like a lemon or two. But then you would risk waking him, and the thought of him finding out the mess you’ve made is—

“I knew you’d pretty in blood,” a sultry voice drawls from the doorway.

You spin around weakly, hands dropping between your thighs so he won’t be able to see the roll you’ve neatly folded up. His violet eyes flick about the bathroom with analytical care, cataloguing the displacement of various items. A fresh ache blooms in your thighs, and you find your back hunching, having to support yourself on the basin, fear making you sick.

His attention settles on you, and you feel like hot coals are being pressed to your bare flesh, trembling beneath his cold gaze. Soft, sensual lips part, about to speak, and the terror slices deeper, making you stumble, loosing your grip on the marble. The world spins, and you brace for the racket of pain that will undoubtedly burst through your spine and skull, yet the impact never comes.

He hisses, powerful arms wrapped around your body, holding you securely flush to his chest. Your muscles lock at the proximity, able to feel his gaze boring into your cheek, but your eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted as bubbles of pressure push up from your abdomen, glistening along your hip. Rhys stiffens, hearing the shallow breaths, aware of how little you’re resisting his touch, how greatly you’re struggling to even stand on your own.

You flutter in and out, lower stomach throbbing and it’s all you can do to keep your feet on the floor, unable to fully support yourself, remaining in his intrusive hold.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” He asks lowly, grip tight on your shoulder, able to scent your fear. Enjoying it a little more than usual.

“I didn’t know it was happening tonight or I would have prepared better,” you mumble snappily, legs trembling as you force yourself to stand, one palm settling over the pain, the other braced against the basin. Rhys chuckles lowly, pressing himself flush against your bare back, arms wrapping snuggly around your waist, fingers grazing the soft skin of your stomach. “Where do you think you’re going?” He muses, tracing feather-light patterns over your abdomen.

“I need…I need to clean the pallet,” you mutter, unable to raise your attention from the floor, palm still attempting to soothing the cramping.

Rhys hums nonchalantly, but you could hear the wicked grin on his lover’s mouth from the next room over, discomfort zipping across your skin, squirming beneath his touch, only a thin layer of cotton between you—likely the thinnest he could have made. “But you’ve woken me up now,” he reminds, hot lips brushing the shell of your ear, and you shiver with disgust.

You’re prepared to plead for disuse for the rest of the night, but he’s raising you into his arms, easily sweeping you off your feet and you struggle weakly. “Rhys, I can’t,” you whisper sharply, hands locked over the broad width of his shoulders, bare and hot beneath your fingertips. “You can’t— You’ll tear me apart,” you plead quietly, stiffening when violet flicks to you.

He carries you over to his bed, setting you down, pallet having vanished and he pulls away. “I don’t think I will,” he replies, smiling faintly in the now candle-lit room, and you’re thankful he hasn’t turned to the faelights. “You’re far too valuable to be wrecked in a single night,” he drawls, bringing your knuckles to his cruelly soft mouth. You hiss at him weakly, hardly able to pull away—as if that’s something you’re normally capable of.

But then he’s turning away, humming a deep, rich tune from his chest, turning to a chest of drawers and pulling something out: a new pair of shorts. Skimpier than the last, but you can’t be picky here. What it takes you a moment to notice is the linen lining the crotch, thick padding that will be suitable for your first night. His sensual lips stretch in a feline grin, “you didn’t think I was going to fuck you while you were bleeding did you, little lamb?”

Humiliation flushes your body, shame sitting thick at the back of your throat and you duck your head, unable to fight on two fronts with your body trying to tear you apart. He laughs lowly, dropping the shorts onto your stomach, watching as you try to wriggle into them with as much dignity as possible. “It wouldn’t be the first time you’d done something so immoral,” you manage to reply, though your voice lacks its usual venom, tender from embarrassment. He hums, the sound settling low in your stomach as he walks to the other side of the bed.

While his back is turned, you reach down to remove the latrine roll sheets you’d folded up. But they vanish from your fingers.

“And I can assure you it won’t be the last,” he muses silkily, settling close to your side, moving with that lethal silence again, cat-soft paws carrying him like a ghost. You flinch from his proximity, huddling deeper into your clothes in attempts to hide from his overwhelming presence. “I wasn’t doubting you,” you whisper hoarsely, causing his smile to widen by a fraction, eyes gleaming with hunger and you quickly look away, disinclined to tempt the beast before you.

“Finally starting to get a hang of it,” he murmurs, settling on his back, pulling the covers up over the two of you, and you initially stiffen from the touch of his sheets, imbued with his scent. So crisp and clean.

You turn on your side, anxious to be as far from him as possible, confused by the curve-ball he’s thrown tonight. A few moments later the candles extinguish, and you flinch as he rolls to his side, arms wrapping around your waist almost delicately, dragging you back to be tucked into his body. You don’t dare ask what he’s doing, fear already present in your bloodstream before he’s nosing at your throat.

Shock zaps through you when he drags the tip of his tongue across the skin, teeth nipping softly soon after, and you shudder. Despite him suggesting he wouldn’t touch you tonight, a deep sense of unease crawls below your flesh, wriggling and squirming like worms in mud. You flinch when his palm flattens over your stomach, the tremors becoming more pronounced, knowing the intensity of pain he could inflict at any second. Yet heat warms your abdomen, sinking into you with soothing grace, instantly easing the pressure contained beneath your skin.

“I can’t have my favourite thing suffering, now can I?” He muses quietly beside your ear, nipping lightly at the lobe. “What sort of High Lord would that make me if I didn’t take care of my subjects? Is there anything else you want?” You tremble in his arms, confused and afraid, unsure whether you can take him at face value tonight—he hadn’t seemed angry despite the blood staining the no-doubt expensive bedding. Maybe he just doesn’t care.

“What are you playing at?” You breathe weakly, aches slightly soothed from the heat of the water bottle, thighs pressing together, curling closer to your stomach, his palm keeping the heat pressed against your skin. “I’m capable of not playing with you, lamb,” he says, lips curving into a smirk as they brush the side of your throat, making your toes curl. “As much as I’m against it.”

“You’re disgusting,” you hiss, pathetically trying to wriggle from his hold, making him hum approvingly. “We both know you love it,” he croons, kissing up your neck. “Love being my perfect little toy.” Mortification burns across your skin, wild heat fluttering through your flesh at the reminder of the crude things he’d manipulated you into saying. “That was under duress,” you whisper, flushing intensely, “it means nothing.”

“It means nothing?” He hums, able to hear the mirth in his voice, free hand gliding up your sternum to brush his fingers over your collar bones. “Then why are you so embarrassed?”

“You’re being crass,” you hiss, shaky hands trying to push his away from your abdomen—you can hold the water bottle by yourself. “Am I?” He grins, and you flinch when his fingers interleaf with your own, trapped in his grip even as you try to pull away. “I could be much worse, if it would help distract you.”

“Stop it,” you say, wriggling uncomfortably. “I want you to leave me alone.”

“That’s cruel,” he remarks casually, teeth grazing sensitive skin. “I was hoping you’d ask for something nicer. No warm milk? Heated blanket?” You seethe, shifting enough to shoot him with a heated glare. “That’s vile.”

He pauses, blinking once as your eyes lock, before his features fill with barely suppressed laughter. Disgust squirms beneath your flesh at his lightheartedness. “You’re a fucking psycho,” you mutter, making to turn your back on him again, but his hand skates higher, forearm pressing between your breasts as he grips your jaw, forcing your to face him, fingers biting into your cheeks. “You’re the one whose mind was in the gutter. I was offering genuine help,” he drawls atop your mouth, able to feel as you suck in a sharp inhale at his sudden proximity. Embarrassment flushes your skin as you realise your mistake, eyes widening marginally.

“Of course,” he murmurs, sensuous lips curving in a suggestive tilt. “If you’d like that…” Violet seems to gleam with wicked delight at the shock on your features, quick to scrunch with forced disgust. “You’re an unloveable monster, Rhys.”

“I know,” he whispers, before pressing his mouth to your own, hot and wet. His admission is washed away as his tongue dips in, velvet soft as it strokes against your own.

You hiss as arousal blossoms unfairly in your abdomen, clashing with the glistening aches that are plucking across your thighs and stomach, pulling away from him forcefully, breathing heavily as you curl tighter, desperate to alleviate the pain.

“You know,” he murmurs close to your ear, “we could try something else.” You stiffen as his fingers tease the band of your shorts, lightly snapping it against your hip, careful to avoid the source of your pain. A strangled whimper breaks from your lungs, squeezing your eyes shut, hands clutching his crisp and clean sheets tight, preparing for him to inflict his cruelty.

Yet to your surprise he’s quiet, skin prickling as his attention brushes over your cheek. Then he hums softly, hand drawing away as he settles at your back, the bare heat of his chest warming you, body draped over your own, pulling you closer so you’re tucked against the powerful lines of him. Allowing you time to rest.

You remain tense, conditioned to expect violation, but his hands remain still, the only movement being his thumbs, oscillating in slow, smooth motions.

“Relax,” he murmurs, nosing at the crown of your head. “Rest for tonight.”

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

general taglist: @myheartfollower @tcris2020 @mali22 @amygdtjhddzvb @sfhsgrad-blog @needylilgal022 @hannzoaks @hnyclover @skyesayshi @nyotamalfoy @decomposing-writer @soph1644

rhys taglist: @azrielshadows1nger

#dark!rhysand x reader #dark!rhysand #dark!rhys #desk pet #play-mate

[aphroditelovesu]

Yandere Tamlin and Rhysand hcs sharing a darling? 👀

❝ 🌹 — lady l: It's three in the morning where I live and here I am... Writing! Do I care? No. Anyway, I hope you like it and forgive me for any mistakes! 💞

❝tw: obsessive and possessive behavior, mention of injuries, unhealthy relationships, polyamorous (sorta of).

❝ ⭐pairing: yandere!tamlin x gn!reader x yandere!rhysand.

They won't share. That simple. There is no way Tamlin and Rhysand would agree to share a darling, let alone a mate. Tamlin is extremely jealous and Rhysand is possessive as hell. Add the fact that their darling is their mate makes it even worse.

Once one realized the other's interest all hell would break loose. It would all really depend on who discovered it first, but at the end of the day, nothing else would matter. Not even you.

Tamlin is the least emotionally unbalanced and this makes him very volatile and dangerous when his temper gets out of control. He is explosive and although he will never knowingly hurt his darling, you still have to walk on eggshells around him. Especially when Tamlin is jealous or furious.

Rhysand is the most rational one in the situation, or at least he tries to be the most rational one, even though he is seething with hatred inside. Rhys might be willing to share his darling with others, but never with Tamlin, his second worst enemy.

A huge fight would begin and if the situation between the two Courts was already bad before, it would become even worse and more volatile. Tamlin wants you at any cost and so does Rhysand, and neither is willing to share.

You would just be a toy caught in a tug of war. They detested each other deeply and their resentment grew more because of you and you would be nothing less than a pawn in a game that has lasted centuries.

They would still try to care about your needs and what you want, but they will both be so blinded by their hatred and possessiveness that you won't be as important. Not when they desperately wanted to destroy themselves.

The only situation I can see them coming to some kind of agreement would be if something happened to you, like if you were a human and almost died or suffered a terrible injury. It would be the only case where Tam and Rhys would work together for you.

Tamlin wants you desperately, he's already so alone and he needs comfort, love and reassurance. He wants to be loved so desperately and his obsession with you has become so unbearable that he can't sleep properly if he doesn't know that you're okay and with him.

Rhysand wants to be loved and have a loving family above all else, he wants this with all his might. He needs you, he needs to smell you and hear you tell him that he loves him. He needs to know that you love him, that he is the only one for you, and that no matter what, you will always choose him.

They will always fight over you, they will never reach a consensus and you are likely to end up broken and none of them will take the blame, as they will be too focused on destroying themselves than on what you need. Rhysand has tried to pay more attention to you, but at the end of the day, it's really about his personal war with Tamlin.

However, at any sign of threat to your life, they will put aside this feud and focus only on you. Even if it doesn't seem like it, they care about you and love you, in a twisted and strange way, but they do and they want to take care of you. Tamlin, especially, due to the fact that he is overprotective.

Rhysand and Tamlin will never come to an agreement, but maybe, as time goes on, they can learn to share you. There will always be bad blood and fights, but perhaps they will realize that the best way to protect you is to come together. Two High Lords can do very well protecting their mate, even if they hate each other deeply.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #yandere a court of thorns and roses #yandere acotar #yandere tamlin #yandere rhysand #yandere tamlin x reader #yandere rhysand x reader #yandere tamlin x reader x rhysand #dark!tamlin #dark!tamlin x reader #dark!rhysand #dark!Rhysand x reader #tamlin x reader #rhysand x reader #tamlin x reader x rhysand #yandere headcanons #Headcanons #poly #yandere poly

[ghostbutaliveidk]

HOUSE PET 1

Pairings - Rhysand, Azriel and Cassian x reader

Warnings - NONCON. Slapping. Degradation. Humiliation. Dacryphilia.

Summary - refer to the masterlist

Next part - HOUSE PET 2

The whole village was quivering with fear as soon as the news reached, even though there were not many chances that the High King, Shadowsinger and their General would visit it. Your village was an insignificant one, sitting on the very edge of the sprint court. The inspection of the Spring Court would probably start and end in the High Lord's estates.

So, you didn't expect to face any problems as you went to your little garden at the outskirts of the village, touching the woods and attended to the flowers.

You got on your knees beside a large plant of blood-red roses, touching the petals and grinning. It looked beautiful.

And then the colour seemed to fade.

The sun was shining, till it wasn't. Your back straightened as a sudden chill covered the field and the world darkened just a bit.

You looked around, a bit of fear making you stand and get ready to run.

Who was there?

You fisted your dress and lifted it just a little, preparing to run as you looked into the woods beside your field, into the darkness that had suddenly covered it and now seemed to seep out of it.

You took a step back, watching as the darkness became... something more, turning into smoke tendrils, and all of them seemed to be coming for...you.

Gulping down the panic, you turned and ran, your feet slamming into the ground. You ran and ran through the field. The village was too far away. You should have yelled for help, but running took all of your attention.

And then you made the worst mistake.

You looked over your shoulder.

Three male. Three winged males, covered with so much darkness, you could barely see them.

You knew who they were. You had heard the brutal stories of how the High Lord of the Night Court had managed to bring every court to their knees with his General and Shadowsinger and now ruled as the High King with an iron fist. They were brutal, vicious and cruel. They took what they wanted. Everyone was afraid of them. Their names were only ever whispered.

And now they are here.

Your foot hit a stone and you fell onto your knees. Tiny stones dug into your palms, tearing at them. You froze as you heard them land. No. No. No. No.

You took in tiny, shaky breaths, squeezing your eyes shut.

"Is this how you bow in front of your High King?" A manly, deep voice purred. You almost crumbled as you heard it. Would they kill you? "Adorable, I have to say."

You got on your feet, feeling shaky all over. You gathered your wits and slowly turned, curtsying deeply. "Y-Your Majesty." You kept yourself bowed, keeping your eyes on the ground, trembling as you felt their eyes running all over you. Your baby pink dress was a bit ripped, and your hair was a bit of a mess. Your hands still hurt.

"Lower," he commanded.

You lowered yourself even further.

"Lower."

You did, almost falling on the floor, your body trembling with the effort of holding you so low. Your legs hurt, but you willed your body to cooperate.

"The poor thing is trembling, Rhys," A smooth, mocking voice said, almost chuckling.

"Let her," the third voice, deep and dark, said. "She looks pretty trembling. Why don't you go lower?"

You tried, as expected, fell. You instantly got back on your feet and curtsied again. The three men chuckled. It made you want to curl up into a ball.

"Adorable," The High King said. "At ease, little flower. Don't want you to wither away just yet." You straightened. "Come here."

The command could not be ignored. You did as you were told, taking steps towards the three most powerful men in the world, your hands fisting at your dress, trembling with fear, You kept your eyes glued to the ground.

Scarred fingers cupped your jaw, turning your head up. You still kept your eyes down, looking at the blue stones adorning his black armour. He was a giant. He towered over you, making you feel tiny. Tendrils of darkness were wrapped around him, like a second armour. His wings stretched far and wide. You knew his name. Azriel.

"She is a pretty little thing," he said. "We're keeping her, Rhys."

Keep you? Your heart filled with dread. No. No. No. No-

"She does look like she'll be fun. A scared little thing," the other man said. He had red stones on his armour. Syphons. He was as big as Azriel, with giant wings. You didn't dare look at his face. You kept your head ducked. You knew who it was. Cassian.

The Shadowsinger turned you around, tugging you to his hard body. You gasped at the sudden contact, the warmth of his body pressing into you. The shadows around him wrapped around you, suddenly carrying weight. You whimpered in fear, hands trying to push the shadows away but they turned into nothing as soon as you touched them. And then they were tighter around you.

Azriel's one scarred hand cupped your chest, covering both of your breasts because of how large it was.

"No. No-" You tugged at his fingers with your hands, trying to push his hand away. He chuckled into your ear.

"She is fun," he said. "And soft." he slapped your breasts. You cried out in pain, jerking wildly. Azriel chuckled again, grabbing the neckline of the dress and ripping it, making you stand there with your breasts out and the rest of your dress barely hanging onto you.

You grabbed the shreds of your dress, pressing it back onto your breasts, softly whimpering, trying to get out of Azriel's grip again. "P-Please, let me go-"

The High King walked towards you, clad in clothes as dark as his soul. His wings were gone. He stood with his hands tucked behind his back, towering over you. He tilted his head down till his face was near yours. You hesitantly looked at his face, tears streaming down your face. "P-Please don't hurt me-"

His lips twisted in a smirk. "You look pretty when you cry." His giant hand wiped the tears off your face. "Open your mouth."

You did what you were told, trying to keep the sobs in. The High King chuckled watching your struggle. "Oh, you poor little innocent thing. So scared, hm? I can smell it." His thumb brushed your bottom lip. "Stick your tongue out."

"Please-"

He slapped your face, lightly, but it still left a sting. "Stick your fucking tongue out like a good girl or the next slap won't be as merciful."

You gulped down more sobs and stuck your tongue out.

The High King's General laughed, stepping beside the king. "She looks like a dumb whore, drooling over herself." He grabbed your hands, ripping them away from your breasts. He tugged at a nipple harshly, making you cry harder but you did not dare put your tongue back in. "Are you dumb little baby?" He grabbed your hair and made you nod as you drooled more on yourself. "We have to take her."

"Then let's take her," The High king said and your blood ran cold. He crouched till he was looking you right in the eyes. Those violent, vibrant eyes twinkled with amusement. "I have wanted a House Pet for a while. That neck looks too empty."

. . .

Next chapter - HOUSE PET 2

#rhysand #rhysand x you #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x reader #rhys #cassian x y/n #cassian x you #cassian x reader #cassian #a court of thorns and roses #acotar #azriel x y/n #azriel x you #azriel x reader #azriel #dark fic #tw noncon #tw humiliation #tw degradation #degrading k1nk

[throneofsapphics]

someone who loves you wouldn’t do this

Feysand x f!Reader

Summary: Angst-tober Day 12, “You can run, we’ll find you every time.” with Feysand 

Warnings: toxic relationships, mentions of kidnapping, murder, dark feysand, torture? sort of, dubcon, dark feysand, smut-ish, minors dni!

A/N: sooo I accidentally posted it this morning, but I've re-edited it now!

kink/angst-tober masterlist

“You can run, we’ll find you every time.” A shiver ran down your spine. Not necessarily the words themselves, but how he said it - as if it were something normal. His mild tone and the small quirk of lips told you he thought running away was just a hobby of yours, just a way to tease them. Like you didn’t crave your freedom with every inch of your being, like the siren call of the outside world wasn’t your entire focus, day in and out. 

There was nothing you could hide from him, any walls you built up were torn down without a second thought. You could only run because he let you. He desired the chase, the hunt, and eventually the capture. Once, you made it beyond the borders of Prythian, fleeing for the continent. When he discovered the village hiding you, he made you watch as they slaughtered every last adult who helped. From the sweet older female who gave you a job, to your landlord, and to the few friends you’d made over the months you settled there. 

The early fall winds whipped brutally against your cheeks as you sprinted, pushing your Fae body to the absolute limits. A small pack tugged at your shoulders uncomfortably, but there wasn’t time to fix that, not now. You finally broke the city wards with relief flushing your entire being. Made it. You were free, free from Velaris. But, you knew you weren’t out of danger yet. As long as you stayed in the Night Court it would be much easier for them to find you. So, you found yourself on the continent. 

The freedom lasted six months before she came. 

“Rhys fetched you last time, it was my turn.” She said, leaning against your doorway. You wished you could winnow, you could do something to escape, but Cauldron boil you, you were trapped. The only way out would be to overpower her and there’s no chance you could do that. “But - he insisted on coming this time. “He’s making an example of your friends,” she said with a bitter tone.

“Please,” your voice was hoarse, “please don’t.” and you fell to your knees, prepared to beg for their lives. 

“None of that,” she tutted. “It will only make it worse for them.” 

A broken cry left your lips as she curled her fingers in. 

Helpless against them and subject to their whims and moods. Maybe … maybe if you didn’t give them what they wanted, and stayed perfectly in place, they would tire of you and throw you out eventually. 

“Not happening,” that voice, as cold and cool as night, swept its way into your mind. “I promised you eternity and you already know I keep my promises.” His presence left as soon as it came, a claw stroking down the inside of your mind. 

At least you weren’t foolish enough to bargain away your life to them. Those first few years, filled with a haze of love and lust, of gratitude from the difficult life they tugged you out of, those were the best years of your life. Joy and hope for the future you began to build with them, before they slowly dismantled it. Brick by brick, they tore you back down to rubble and tried to build you up again in their image. 

You could only take satisfaction in how they were failing miserably at that. They had underestimated your stubbornness and your desire for independence. How could someone go from love to loathing in such a short period of time? You knew one truth, someone who loves you wouldn’t do this. It's an obsession, a facsimile of love, no matter what they told you or how much they professed. Even if you did love them back, in some sick and twisted way, it was inconsequential. 

When you got the chance to leave, it wouldn't be a planned or thought out occasion, you would have to act impulsively and take a chance if it ever came up. 

Feyre swept into the room, her dress fluttering behind her. She was beautiful, in every sense of the word, and you tore your eyes away from her as she approached you. She tilted your chin up and pressed a kiss to your forehead with a soft smile on her face. 

“How’s my favorite person?” She asked, sitting next to you and tugging you into her side. You urged your body to stay stiff, but inevitably you melted into her. 

“I’m hurt,” Rhys gasped, pressing a hand against his chest. They were in a small argument right now, and whenever that happened you tended to get tugged into the middle as a buffer. You hated it. 

“I didn’t ask you.” She snipped, and turned to you again. “How are you, love?” 

You despised how your pulse fluttered when she called you that. 

“Y/n’s having traitorous thoughts,” Rhys said with a cruel smirk. A half-hearted snarl left your lips, your eyes narrowed at the High Lord. 

“Really?” Feyre ran one hand down your arm, before settling on your hip and giving a bruising squeeze, her nails digging in the soft skin. “You know leaving again would be a stupid decision.” 

You didn’t reply. You’d made many ‘stupid’ decisions over the years, there’s no need to change now. 

“You’re smarter than that.” She said when you didn’t answer her. You yelped as she pinched your hip. “Aren’t you?” 

“No.” 

“At least you’re honest,” she sighed and you felt her magic reaching out, pushing and testing all of the new wards surrounding the house. 

“Not that I could get away with lying,” your fists clenched, tugging the fabric on your pants to keep yourself calm. 

“I suppose you couldn’t, not anymore.” 

Not anymore. Not since they dragged you back here. 

Rhys tossed you in a chair, and threads of his magic wrapped around your arms - binding your entire body to the chair and rendering you immobile. At his mercy. You knew what was coming next, and tried to wiggle out of them anyways. “This is going to hurt, darling.” 

“I thought you could make it painless,” you panted, your chest heaving, sobs lingering under your skin. 

“Oh I could,” he traced your cheekbone, one hand holding your jaw when you turned your head away from him. He crouched so he was at eye-level with you. His eyes were black as the night sky - no hint of violet or playfulness in them. Cold. “But I want you to remember this, Darling. Consider it a lesson.” 

“I - I will, I promise. Please.” You hated that you were reduced to begging already, but … this was a kind of pain beyond measure for you and knowing Rhys could choose exactly how much pain to inflict. It kicked in your sense of self preservation. 

He hummed, rubbing his hand over his jaw as if he was contemplating it. “No. I quite like your screams.” 

Tears leaked from your eyes, streaming down your face. As he began, your screams filled the entire room. Layer by layer, your mind was torn apart - not even a shred of a wall or barrier left behind. He left memories of your old life behind, but you didn’t think he was doing it from the kindness of his heart. In a sick way, he wanted you to remember how bad it was.

A small tap on your cheek brought you back to the present. You blinked heavily, finding Feyre looking at you - head tilted, blue-gray eyes searing into you. Teeth tugged into your bottom lip, and her eyes tracked them, pupils blowing. Betraying you, your body reacted to her slightest movement, the caress of her hand on her neck. Feyre noticed it, with no small amount of satisfaction, and grasped your hips, tugging you so you straddled her lap. 

Soft. Her touches were so damned soft, running up and down your sides, thumbs ghosting over your breasts. 

“You don’t need to pretend,” she murmured.

“Pretend what?” you snapped, ignoring the sharp look she pinned you with. 

“That you don’t like this.” 

“I don’t.” You protested, trying to wiggle away. Feyre’s hands tightened on your hips and Rhys snorted behind you.

“Liar,” he purred, his voice echoing through your mind. 

Rhys sent an image; 

You were sprawled on your bed, Feyre’s head between your legs, Rhys propped behind you, his hand on your chin - directing your attention to the mirror across from the bed, “Watch Feyre make you come, darling.” You squirmed, hips keening into Feyre, her tongue flicking against your clit, screaming as you -

“Stop,” you tried to shout at him, but the scene played out - you were helpless to stop it. The pleasure ran through your body, feeling it almost as if it was happening to you now. 

Before you could shout again, you reeled back into the present - Feyre smirking at you, her hand caressing your side now. Rhys’s edged chuckle came from behind you, and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. 

#feysand x reader #feysand x y/n #poly!feysand #poly!feysand x reader #poly!feysand x y/n #feyre archeron x y/n #feyre archeron x reader #rhysand x y/n #rhysand x reader #rhys x y/n #rhys x reader #dark!feysand

[bookishpedia]

NEW YEAR RESOLUTIONS OF FICTIONAL MEN PART 5

Feyre: What is your new year resolution?

Rhysand: Have you paint me.

Feyre: That doesn't sound like a resolution-

Rhysand: *magically bringing paint and removing his shirt*

Rhysand: Right. It's something I want you to do.

Rhysand: Will you give me the honour of being your canvas my High Lady?

#incorrect quotations #funnytumblr #books #bookstagram #readers community #book memes #dark romance #acotar #acofas #acosf #acomaf #acowar #feyre and rhysand #rhys x feyre #rhysand

[littlemissomega]

(I'm actually renamed "Walls" to "Bare"...walls was kinda a lame name...it won't let me change the poll once it's posted, but if I post that story, it'll be called "Bare" :)

#little miss omega #smut prompts #acotar #a court of thorns and roses smut #mafia!bucky barnes smut #dom!dark!bucky barnes smut #dark!bucky barnes smut #pregnant!reader smut #rhysand x reader #rhysand smut #marvel smut #you decide #plz vote #i can't decide #18+ #smut poles #smut promps #sensory overstimulation #overstimulation #overstimulation kink #dark!smut #dark!stucky smut

[fantasyandshit]

The third part of The light and the dark should be out tonight! Thank you guys so much for all the support and love!

#azriel x reader #azriel #acotar x reader #acotar #feyre x reader #feyre archeron #nesta x reader #nesta archeron #elain x reader #elain archeron #cassian x reader #cassian #rhysand x reader #rhysand #the light and the dark #archeron sisters #archeron reader #fem reader #part three #update