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springcourtrose · 2 months

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Please, stop... | Part 1

Pairing: Helion x reader (x Nessian)

Warnings: abusive relationship and descriptions of SA - MINORS DNI

Prompt: you’re Nesta and Cassian’s mate and yet you are so different from them. From day 1 you tried to be a good mate and do as they wanted and liked but they like it rough and you just don’t. Not only is it not enjoyable for you it is actually painful. And not just in bed. You always excused their behavior as being overprotective but recently you started calling it something else: controlling. And one night, all changed as you uttered the words you had tried so hard never to say, but always thinking if you ever did they would listen. But they didn’t. And that night, everything broke.

(A/N: it's my first time writing for ACOTAR - English isn't my first language)

Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Please, stop.

You couldn't remember exactly how many times you had said it. It hadn't mattered. You weren't sure if they just didn't hear you or didn't care. You couldn't bring yourself to think they had just ignored it, ignored you. But you didn't know if the alternative was better. Maybe they just didn't care.

You cried and Nesta called you a brat. You asked them to stop the first time and Cassian shoved his large cock down your throat to shut you up.

You had almost passed out then. Not because of the way you were choking on his hard length but because you had asked them to stop and they hadn't listened. They had ignored you. They had kept going.

You were crying and begging and it just didn't register. Like it didn't matter. Like you didn't matter. All that mattered was them and their pleasure.

They had gone to bed after they were done, leaving you to care for yourself. And it was then, when you were sitting in that cold bath alone, that you realized. Your mates didn't love you. They loved each other, but you were nothing more than a sex toy to them. You who had tried so hard to be a good mate. Nesta had called you a brat and a bad girl. You who had tried so hard to please them and give them whatever they wanted. It hadn't mattered. They would have taken it anyway, no matter what you wanted.

Your heart broke. You wondered if they felt it through the bond. They didn't stir from their sleep.

You silently exited the bath and put on clean clothes. You packed lightly and quietly and didn't look back at your mates before stepping out of the bedroom.

You went to Azriel, because you really didn't have any other choice. Azriel never asked too many questions. It was as much a quality as it was a flaw. That first time he saw your bruised neck for example, he didn't say a thing. Nor did he mention it the second time, or inquire after your well being the third time. He never asked. Because it wasn't his business. But Mor never mentioned it either. Neither did Feyre or Rhys. Your friends, your family. They all had seen it at one point or another. The bruises. The look in your eyes. The flinching when either of your mate raised their voices or got anywhere close to you.

Nesta and Cassian like it rough. That was the end of it.

Azriel brought a dagger to your throat as you approached him. That didn't surprise you. You apologized for waking him up and asked him if he could do you a favor, no questions asked. You weren't sure he would. His loyalties would remain with Cassian. But, maybe it was the look in your eyes, maybe it was the tears, maybe it was the bruises, or the sound of your broken and desperate voice, but when you asked him to bring you to the Day Court in the middle of the night, he had just looked at you and your packed bag for a few seconds, then silently nodded.

Helion wasn't mad you had his guards wake him up at 2AM. No, Helion was concerned. Even more so when he saw you. You knew you probably looked exactly like you felt. Like complete and utter shit.

Helion had always been nice to you. What was there not to like? You were smart, gentle, caring and beautiful. You had similar interests and powers and had become good friends while doing some research with his healers when you were looking for a way to help Feyre when she was pregnant with Nyx.

Helion had become a true friend. The only one you had left after Nesta and Cassian had restricted your outings so much your old friends had more or less forgotten about you.

Helion made you feel safe. You had nowhere else to go.

He opened his mouth, but you spoke first.

"I request asylum."

Both males stilled. Your small and weak voice broke as you said the words but they had heard you loud and clear. You had never seen Azriel so surprise. You wondered if he would try and take you back to the Night Court by force.

"What?" was all Helion managed to say.

"I ask for refuge in your court, please," you said, voice trembling, tears filling your eyes.

"What happened?" he asked, hurrying towards you, checking you for any injury, eyeing you from head to toe, noticing the bruises on your face and neck.

"Please," you begged, falling apart, your knees giving up on you as you collapsed at his feet.

He knelt before you, taking you in his arms.

"What happened?" he asked again, but not to you.

Azriel's face was grave. He knew exactly what had happened. You'd had enough. You'd reached your breaking point. Like he knew this would happen. And yet he had done nothing.

You were sobbing in the High Lord's arms and he embraced you gently, running a hand up and down your back.

"Please," your voice nothing but a whisper. "I request asylum."

Helion's eyes landed on Azriel once more and the High Lord's silence had you panic.

"Please!"

"Granted," he said and you fell apart once more.

You buried your face in his lap, letting your cries and tears flow out of you. Helion looked at Azriel like he would tear him apart, as if he were the one who had hurt you.

"Y/N is now under the protection of my court. Inform your High Lord as soon as possible."

Azriel paused, as if considering not leaving you here, no doubt thinking about his brother, your mate. But, eventually, he nodded.

"Take care of her," was all he said before he vanished.

And as the spymaster disappeared, leaving you behind, your broken cries filled the halls of the Day Court.

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #helion x reader #nessian x reader #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #azriel #helion #rhysand #rhys #rhys x feyre #Feyre x rhys

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acomaflove · 2 years

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Rhysand after winning a ton of money for betting Feyre would survive fighting the worm:

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elriell · 9 months

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“His smile faded into something awed, something … reverent, and I reached out to cup his face in my hands— To find my skin glowing. Faintly, as if some inner light shone beneath my skin, leaking out into the world. Warm and white light, like the sun—like a star. Those wonder-filled eyes met mine, and Rhys ran a finger down my arm. “Well, at least now I can gloat that I literally make my mate glow with happiness.”

Hands down one of my favourite Feysand scenes, which was brought to life by the incredible @artoffrostandflame <3 She was a absolute angel to work with and I adore this came out!

Don't repost pls.

#feysand #feyre archeron #rhysand #acotar #acomaf #a court of mist and fury #chapter 55 #feysand art #feysand fanart #feyre x rhys #my commissions #mine

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throneofsapphics · 8 months

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crack headcanon for feysand, reader is friends with nyx and she meets feysand for the first time. she blushes instantly and they notice and think it’s hilarious. Reader drags nyx out later and whispers ” omg your parents are so hot, like ur mom is such a milf and your dad is such s dilf ” nyx is like ” ew that’s my parents ” the whole inner circle hears and laughs😩😭💀

nosy parents

(part two) (part three)

Summary: The Inner Circle overhears a conversation between Nyx and a friend

Warnings: none, not proofread

A/N: I LOVED this! lmao crack drabbles are my guilty pleasure, (sorry it ended up being more of a drabble than head cannons!)

Nyx, your best friend, decided it was finally time for you to meet his parents. You were hesitant at first, in fact you resisted it for as long as possible. Mother above, his parents are the High Lord and Lady of the night court. The fact that you’re somehow friends with him in the first place is still ridiculous, but his insistent badgering finally made you cave.

He told you to dress casual, and you made him come over to your apartment before and check that your idea of ‘casual’ was actually correct. He gave his approval, one thing you always appreciated about him is his unflinching honesty.

The dinner went well, you smiled and laughed throughout it and they had a way of making you feel comfortable. What Nyx didn’t tell you, is that the entire inner circle would be there. He slipped into your mind halfway through “what do you think?”

“I think you ‘conveniently’ forgot to tell me the entire inner circle would be here.”

“They’re all my family.”

You couldn’t argue with that.

Still both of you managed to escape outside, to one of the balconies, afterwards.

You were teasing him, nudging him in the side. “You didn’t tell me your parents are so hot,” and grinned.

“That’s gross,” he groaned, seeing him blush and get flustered was well worth it … for a few seconds, until the entire room behind you burst out into laughter. It was your turn for your entire face to turn beet red as you found them gathering behind you.

“It’s not my fault they’re nosy,” he hedged, “they probably wanted to see if were actually just friends.”

You audibly groaned, clutching your face in your hands. You'd never live this down.

#next gen acotar #feysand #feyre archeron x rhysand #feyre x rhys #nyx archeron #acotar drabble #acotar crack fic #acotar imagine

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acourtofmishapandmistakes · 14 days

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Rhys: It's fun being mated.

Rhys: I've never been supervised before.

Rhys: I'm supervised. She studies what I do.

Rhys: Feyre'll be like "Sometimes, he will buy a new knife, even though he owns the same knife, and it's downstairs on the kitchen table. Pointing this out to him, confuses and upsets him."

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epochofbelief · 2 months

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Strictly Confidential: Chapter Five

A Modern Feysand AU

She’s a law student turned confidential informant. He’s a federal prosecutor with one goal: bringing down her boyfriend for his white collar crimes. What could go wrong?

Author's Note: Sorry it took so long everyone. Life is... insane. But it's spring break, so I finally had the time and energy to devote to this. It's kind of long, so fair warning ;) Also, I did just spend four straight hours writing and editing this so if there are typos… there are typos💓

Strictly Confidential Masterlist

My Other (Completed) Feysand AU Fic: What to Expect When You're (Not) Expecting

Chapter Five:

A week after Feyre told Azriel she would turn informant against her partner, she still hadn't heard from the FBI.

And her week only grew worse with every passing day. Her professors had hit the mid-semester stride, assigning longer and longer readings. She continued to receive invitations to networking events and all manner of schmoozing and boozing opportunities from her future firm. Various midterm writing assignments were ramping up, and she had just finished a particularly brutal round of citation checks for the Law Review legal journal on which she was a staff editor.

Her only saving grace had been Tamlin’s obvious exhaustion. He left the apartment before Feyre woke up and returned long after she fell asleep.

If it had been any other way, Feyre wasn’t sure how she would have survived the week. The thought of Tamlin touching her sent shivers down her spine and images of what Rhys’s younger sister might look like spinning through her head. Did Tamlin know about what had been done to keep his secret? How involved was he in the more violent aspects of his criminal enterprise?

The questions were endless, and yet Feyre had no one to ask. She was supposed to be the one finding answers, anyway.

And while she desired to put a stop to Tamlin's crimes, she couldn't help but find it ironic that this was just one more thing that had come to rest on her shoulders.

And the FBI didn’t seem to be in any kind of hurry, Feyre thought irritably as she waved Tamlin out the door on Thursday night. He had come home early to pack a bag—once again leaving town for the weekend. On business.

Feyre let him press a kiss to his cheek, then shut the door on his back, doing her best not to slam it.

She turned and leaned against the wood, scrubbing her face with her hands. If the FBI didn’t tell her what to do soon, she would forget about the deal and break up with Tamlin. Move back in with her family. It would mean adding a job to her academic workload, but she didn’t think she would survive more than a few months in her family’s house. Nesta would freeze her out until she needed something. Elain's perpetually present boyfriend disliked Feyre for some reason. Her father wouldn’t know what to do with her.

Feyre sighed, then jumped as a knock on the door behind her head reverberated through her skull.

“Did you forget something?” She asked, flinging open the door, expecting to find a harried-looking Tamlin on the other side.

Instead, she came face-to-face with Rhysand, a stunning blonde woman next to him.

“Oh,” Feyre squeaked.

Rhysand grimaced at her, dressed once again in all-black suit, tailored perfectly to his muscular body. Though he looked more casual than Feyre had ever seen him—his usual black tie was missing, and the first few buttons of his shirt were undone. Feyre swallowed, averting her eyes from his tanned upper chest and violet eyes, instead surveying the blonde.

The woman was also clad in all-black, her blazer buttoned around a narrow waist, a short pencil skirt emphasizing long, tanned legs. Her blonde hair cascaded over both shoulders, and her lips, coated in a bright red lipstick, tugged into a smile.

Perhaps this was Rhys’s partner? Feyre’s eyes snapped back to Rhys’s at the thought, as if she would find the answer there.

“As much as I would love to stand here and watch you two stare at each other, the hall is a little exposed. May we come in, Feyre?” The blonde asked, brushing past Feyre without waiting for an answer, disappearing into the apartment behind her.

“You came,” Feyre breathed.

Rhys cocked an eyebrow. “Sorry it took so long.”

“Would you two get the hell in here?” The woman’s voice sounded from behind Feyre.

Rhys grimaced again, gesturing for Feyre to lead the way into the apartment. “Please excuse my cousin, Morrigan Underwood. She’s one of the best the FBI has to offer, but most days she’s just a pain in my…” Rhys trailed off, and Feyre couldn’t help but grin as Morrigan extended a manicured hand toward her.

“It’s nice to meet you, Feyre,” Morrigan said, smiling warmly down at her. Morrigan was tall, and the heels only added to her height. Next to the beautiful FBI agent, Feyre felt short and grubby in her socked feet next and oversized t-shirt. “Sorry to barge in on you. We got lucky tonight—video cameras are down. So we thought we would come to you.”

“Just luck?” Feyre asked, folding her arms and leaning against the kitchen island.

Morrigan and Rhys exchanged a glance. “Luck with a little help from Azriel,” Morrigan admitted, shrugging.

Gods, they really were the FBI, Feyre thought, walking around the kitchen island and opening the fridge. “Can I offer either of you—a water? Or something else?”

“We don’t want to trouble you,” Rhys said, at exactly the same moment Morrigan said, “Absolutely. Tamlin took forever to leave, and even though someone knew there would be a stake-out, he didn't think to stock refreshments in his car.” Her brown eyes cut to Rhys.

“Mor,” Rhys groaned.

Feyre smiled to herself as she retrieved three bottles of sparkling water from the fridge and returned to the living room, sitting in the armchair across from the couch where Rhys and Mor had seated themselves.

“Nice place,” Mor commented, her eyes scanning the room appreciatively. “Very . . . minimalist.”

Feyre shrugged. “It’s not exactly to my tastes, but thank you.”

Feyre ignored Mor’s cocked eyebrow and the crease that formed between Rhys’s eyebrows at her words. She cleared her throat. “So. Care to share why you’re here?”

Mor popped the top off her water and sank back into the plush white couch, lifting the drink toward Rhys. “You’re up, cousin.”

Rhys leaned forward on the couch, his own water forgotten on the sleek coffee table in front of him. Feyre couldn’t figure out where to look as she waited for him to speak. His large hands, clasped in front of him. The sliver of exposed skin just below his neck. Those violet eyes that seemed to pierce her very soul.

She settled for his forehead as Rhys began to speak. “You took a risk last week, going into Spring Solutions without backup. If something had happened to you in there, we would have had no way of knowing.”

Feyre folded her arms. “I thought you wanted me to gather information for you. How am I supposed to do that if I can’t go anywhere without an escort?”

“Backup doesn’t necessarily mean an escort.”

-----

Two hours later, Feyre’s mind was about to explode with all the information Rhys and Mor had drilled into her head. They had provided her with a wire, an earpiece that she could hear and speak to them through, an exhaustive explanation of how dangerous being an informant was, and a briefing on proper reporting and contacting methods she would have to engage in when reaching out to the FBI.

She drew the line at the bulletproof vest Mor retrieved from her bag.

“Where am I supposed to hide that?” Feyre demanded. “The tech is enough.”

Mor and Rhys exchanged a glance. “Feyre…” Rhys trailed off, his eyes searching her face.

“You make me take that and this whole thing is over before it began.”

Rhys held up his hands. “Alright. But if you dream up any more ridiculous plans to go into the heart of enemy territory, you contact us first. We’ll get it to you.”

Feyre rolled her eyes. She didn’t envision herself getting shot any time soon.

“Lastly,” Mor said. “Here’s the address of our future meeting place.” She handed Feyre a scrap of paper. “Memorize it and then destroy it. You can get there by train, so transport isn’t a problem. You’ll have to switch trains about halfway there, but that’s your opportunity to determine if you’re being followed. If you have any suspicion whatsoever that someone is on your tail, do not go to the safe house. Just board a train back in the direction of the city.”

Feyre looked down at the address. “How often will we be meeting?”

“Only as often as necessary. You let us know through that earpiece and we’ll arrange it. Best not to create any new strange habits that people might notice. Memorize.”

Feyre nodded, swallowing the sudden wave of anxiety cresting through her. She was truly doing this. Working for the FBI. Attempting to inifiltrate a strange and possibly deadly organization. Betraying her boyfriend—the man who had fed her and housed her for the better part of her law school experience.

Mor cleared her throat, glancing at her watch. “I’ve got a meeting. Finish up here, Rhys?”

Rhys nodded, clapping his cousin on the shoulder as she stood, extending her hand once more to Feyre. “Good luck, Feyre. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again very soon.” Feyre nodded, and Mor paused, her manicured hand squeezing Feyre’s. “Do try not to get caught.”

Then she was gone.

Leaving Feyre and Rhysand alone in the enormous, stark apartment.

“Is there much more?” Feyre asked, forcing herself to keep her arms at her sides rather than swinging them in the awkward silence.

“No, but—” Rhys halted midsentence as Feyre slumped into the enormous white armchair next to the window, relieved to hear those words coming from Rhys’s mouth. She honestly hadn’t been sure if she could take much more.

Her entire relationship was a lie—everything was a lie. She had trusted Tamlin with her safety. With her nights and days and most of the time in between. He had given her a place to stay after years spent under her family’s influence.

And yet.

“He’s been lying to me,” Feyre muttered, more to herself than Rhysand, who had leaned closer to her as her thoughts spiraled deeper and deeper. “This whole time.”

Her eyes drifted down from the ceiling, locking instead with Rhys’s blue eyes, drinking her in from his position on the couch.

“I never knew,” she said softly. “I never even suspected. You must think I’m some kind of idiot.”

A muscle fluttered in Rhys’s jaw, and he shook his head, one hand extending toward her as if to rest it on her knee. But he thought better of it, instead clasping his hands between his knees. “On the contrary. I’ve spent a year investigating Tamlin and he's slipped through my fingers every time. It’s no surprise you never knew."

Feyre bent over her knees, hands covering her face. “How long will it take?”

Rhys cleared his throat, thankfully understanding her meaning. “It depends. The more and better information we get, the easier it will be to charge him.”

When Feyre didn’t respond, Rhys continued.

“But if you want out, Feyre, say the word. We—I—would never dream of forcing you to stay in this relationship just for our purposes. There would be no hard feelings if you changed your mind.”

Feyre’s hands slid from her face, and she returned Rhys’s stare with one of her own. “No.”

“No?”

“I want to do this. I have to do this. If what you say is true, Tamlin is the reason your sister—and who knows how many others who knew too much—are gone. I can’t stand by and watch that happen. Can’t leave him knowing about the horrible things he is causing, or at least sanctioning.”

She could have sworn a glimmer of pride shone in Rhys’s eyes as he surveyed her. And despite everything, despite the loss of his sister and the investigation and the potential threat to Feyre’s life, he smiled.

“Then let’s bring that bastard down.”

Feyre couldn’t resist the grin she shot back.

-----

A week later, some of that excitement had died down. Tamlin had been at work around the clock, busy with various “projects” as he described them to Feyre. However, he had revealed that his next out-of-town venture would take place in late October—just a few weeks away. And Feyre was determined to discover the destination. So in addition to her studies and checking in every so often with the FBI through her earpiece, she spent the wee hours of the morning combing through Tamlin's computer in secret, digging through his bags and looking through his phone for anything that might reveal his future plans.

She continued to come up empty-handed.

But she didn't intend to give up, even though her exhaustion grew worse with every passing day. Feyre resolved to take a break from her sleuthing that night as she walked to another networking event, this one just a few blocks from her apartment.

She arrived in her best black suit, pencil skirt just brushing the tops of her knees, black tights beneath warding off the crisp fall air. She had spent extra time on her hair that evening—adding a little extra dry shampoo, teasing the golden-brown strands into a gentle curl at the ends. She even went so far as to add an extra layer of mascara before she came to her senses.

There was only one reason Feyre was putting in this extra effort, despite the minuscule chance that the reason would even be present at the mixer.

United States Attorneys surely had better things to do than attend every attorney/law-student networking event in the city.

And besides. Feyre was still unavailable, even if Tamlin had barely laid a finger on her the past few weeks, as busy and stressed with work as they both had been. Even if in her mind, her relationship with Tamlin had long since come to a crashing halt.

So she had resisted the urge to dab on some blush before she rushed out the door, tying her black overcoat around her waist as she rode the elevator to the lobby. Just a half hour later, she found herself engaged in a spectacularly dull conversation with a pair of junior associates from one of the other firms in Prythian. Feyre had forgotten their names almost as soon as she had heard them, distracted as she was with thoughts of her mission for Rhys—with thoughts of whether Rhys might be present tonight.

“Do you have plans to pursue partnership?” One of the attorneys—a middle-aged woman with dark brown hair and brown eyes—inquired, taking another sip of her mixed drink. The woman was tipsy, but quite adept at hiding it. If Feyre hadn’t spent years observing her older sister Nesta’s drinking habits, she might not have noticed.

Unfortunately, the woman was staring at Feyre so intently that Feyre decided she would be forced to answer the question. Feyre’s mind raced, and she genuinely wondered whether saying, “I don’t know—nor do I much care at this point,” might be disadvantageous to her career. If it might get back to Hybern & Night.

But then she felt a hand at her elbow, a warm male body sidling up next to her, the scent of citrus and the sea washing over her in a wave.

“Feyre, darling. You’ve been avoiding me. My father insisted I meet his firm’s future associate.”

Feyre bit back her smile as she turned her attention from the attorneys in front of her to the man who had just stepped up to her elbow. Blue-black hair slightly tousled, as if he had just run his fingers through it. Violet eyes dancing with mirth. Black-on-black suit only emphasizing his imposing figure.

“I didn’t realize we were engaged in a game of hide-and-seek,” Feyre said. “Will you excuse me, ladies? It was wonderful to meet you both.”

And she allowed Rhys to whisk her away, through the crowded ballroom where the event was being held and up a set of stairs, where he pulled her out to a small balcony overlooking one of Prythian’s many parks to the rear of the building.

“That’s twice now,” Rhys noted, releasing Feyre’s elbow only when she leaned against the railing, her own elbows resting against the cool metal.

“Twice what?”

“That I’ve saved you from the vultures. However will you repay me?” Rhys asked, leaning onto the railing next to her.

“I’ll think of something,” Feyre said quietly, raising her eybrows.

“How are you holding up?” Rhys asked.

Feyre blinked. She had expected him to press her for details on Tamlin’s movements, or perhaps encourage her to try just a little harder to get him something, anything he could use to find justice for his little sister.

“I’m—fine,” she said haltingly. “Tamlin has another trip in two weeks, but you already know that. He’s…resistant to the idea of me hanging around Spring Solutions. Keeps insisting it’s going to interfere with my studies.”

Rhys sighed, shifting on his feet. Feyre tried to ignore how the motion brought his arm closer to hers, so close she could feel the heat of his body soaking into hers. “He may be an insufferable bastard, but the man is cautious.”

Feyre tried, unsuccessfully, to hide her wince at the words “insufferable bastard.”

“I’m sorry,” Rhys said, once again surprising Feyre at how adeptly he said the right thing, how flawlessly he interpreted her mannerisms and expressions. “I shouldn’t have said that.”

But Feyre shook her head. “You have every right, Rhysand. After what he did to your sister…”

Rhys let out a long sigh. Feyre echoed him a moment later.

"You called them vultures," Feyre said after several silent moments passed.

"And?"

"Why did you become an attorney if—if you find most of those people in there as abhorrent as I do?"

Rhys shrugged, the movement causing his shoulder to brush against Feyre's. "I come from a very long line of attorneys. In a way, it was the only future I ever really considered for myself. Even though I hated the way my father's work kept him so busy, how he constantly chose his billable hours over his family. I knew he never had any passion for the law he practiced. He merely craved the money, and the prestige, and the reputation."

Feyre turned to observe Rhys, studying the side of his face as he gazed out over the park.

"But I think watching all that made me want to be a different kind of attorney. Someone who cares about the people I'm representing, the cases I'm bringing. And a career as a prosecutor seemed like a good place to start—at least for now.” Rhys paused, as if weighing whether to say what he said next. “I'm not sure if it's made me any better than my father."

"For what it's worth, Rhys, I don't consider you a vulture."

Rhys met her eyes then, his face so open, so vulnerable, for one brief moment. "Likewise," he said quietly.

Feyre grimaced, choosing not to argue with him. Even though she was the one chasing the money that came with a big law job. Even though everything Rhys had said could very well describe her situation exactly.

“You want to get out of here?” Rhys said suddenly.

Feyre turned to look at him. “And do… what?”

“Take a walk. Grab a drink. Do anything other than talk to those insufferable sycophants prowling around that ballroom.”

Feyre swallowed, and before she could talk herself out of it, she heard herself saying, “Let’s go.”

An hour later, Feyre was two glasses of wine deep, laughing at something Rhys said to the strangers they had befriended at the bar a few blocks from the networking event. She hadn't had this much fun in—in a very long time. She couldn't remember the last time she went out with her friends on a whim, talking about everything and nothing, without discussing law school or work or anything serious.

But Rhys was fun. And Feyre was enjoying herself immensely. She even felt a little sad when Rhys paid the tab over her protests, insisting that he remembered all too well the weight of law school loans, before he ushered her out of the bar.

“I’ll walk you home,” he said as they emerged into the dark streets of Prythian.

“You don’t have to do that,” Feyre said.

“It’s dark and we’re downtown.”

Feyre bit her lip, but nodded in assent, turning right to lead Rhys in the direction of her apartment. They made it all of five steps before Rhys's phone rang.

"Sorry," he mouthed at Feyre, answering the call and guiding her over to the edge of the sidewalk.

"Night speaking," he said quietly, leaning against the wall.

Feyre leaned next to him, grateful for the buzz of the alcohol keeping her warm and relaxed as she waited. Grateful that it kept her from thinking too hard about the fact that she had just gone out with drinks. With Rhysand. Alone.

But the languid peace coursing through Feyre's veins evaporated when Rhys stiffened next to her.

"Who is this?" Rhys bit out.

Feyre shivered at the ice in his tone.

"Tell me who you are," Rhys growled, even as he seized Feyre's elbow and tugged her down an alley to their right, pushing her against the wall and crowding close, as if he could shield her very existence from the world around them.

"Who is this?" Rhys demanded once more.

Who the hell was on the other end of that phone call?

"Fuck!" Rhys exclaimed, the phone going dark in his hand as whoever he had been speaking to hung up.

"Who was it?" Feyre whispered.

"I don't know. They wouldn't tell me."

"What did they say?"

Feyre felt the blood drain from her face as Rhys explained.

"We have to go," Feyre said, hands coming up to push at Rhys's chest.

"No. I have to get you home. I'm calling Cassian. He'll handle it." Rhys unlocked his phone, fingers flying across the screen.

Feyre gritted her teeth. "We're two blocks away. I'll be fine. Let's just go."

And before Rhys could argue, she took off down the alleyway, jaw set.

They made it to the alley in less than five minutes, Feyre skidding to a halt at its mouth. Rhys had just hung up with Cassian, whom he had told to meet them there as quickly as possible. Feyre made to plunge into the dark alley, but Rhys grabbed her arm, shaking his head. "Stay behind me," he insisted, moving in front of and stalking slowly down the alley.

They were halfway through the space when Feyre caught sight of what looked like a pile of rags or fabric slumped against the alley wall about twenty feet in front of them.

Only, they weren’t rags, Feyre realized, watching the dark lump on the alley floor shift as Rhys approached.

It was a person—a man—laying on his side, head facing away from them, legs tangled together.

Azriel.

Feyre dropped to her knees next to the agent, the two glasses of wine she had drank earlier now threatening to come up when she beheld the state Azriel was in.

Two black eyes were already forming, his eyes so swollen they were mere slits in his red, black and blue face. Dried blood crusted the skin under his nose and continued all the way down his chin.

Feyre rested an arm on Azriel's shoulder, praying the agent wasn't bruised there as well.

“Azriel,” she breathed.

To her surprise, the agent chuckled. “Believe me, Feyre,” he grunted, his raspy voice echoing slightly in the alley around them. “I’ve had worse.”

Feyre bit her lip as Rhys brushed a hand lightly over her shoulder before joining her on the ground before Azriel.

"How long?" Rhys asked.

"Half hour," Azriel rasped, a series of hacking coughs interrupting him before he could continue. "Maybe longer."

Feyre saw the shadow of rage that passed across Rhys's face as he realized how long Azriel’s attackers had waited to call him. But he didn't verbalize it, instead murmuring, “Let’s get you up, friend." He gripped Azriel’s shoulders and pulling him into a seated position. A shaft of moonlight illuminated the agent, allowing Feyre to more fully appreciate just how battered his face was.

“Gods,” Feyre breathed, following Rhys’s lead and ducking under one of Azriel’s arms.

“It was Spring,” Azriel said quietly, once they had managed to drag him halfway down the alley.

Feyre sensed, rather than saw, Rhys stiffen at the words.

“How do you know?” Feyre asked quietly.

Azriel coughed, spitting a wad of blood onto the alley floor in front of them. “They jumped me,” he said. “Took my gun, then a few of them held me down so they could take turns hitting me. I couldn’t do anything but let them—let them—” He broke off. “Then they dumped me and said they would send someone to retrieve me. I didn't know if that meant someone to finish the job, or help. The only other thing they said, the whole time, was right before one of them stomped on my head: 'Stay the hell away from Spring Solutions. Or else.' I was out cold after that. I think."

A chill ran down Feyre’s spine.

What did or else mean?

None of them spoke another word as Rhys guided them to the mouth of the alley, where a black car awaited. Rhys ripped open the door, revealing a tense-looking Mor in the backseat. She beckoned, taking Azriel from Rhys and Feyre.

Rhys got into the front seat, and Feyre climbed into the back with Az and Mor.

"Gods above," Mor breathed, surveying the damage done to Azriel's face. "What happened?"

Rhys explained as Cassian drove them quickly away from the alley, winding through the dark streets of downtown Prythian.

"Do you think they know?" Mor asked. "About Feyre?"

Rhys shook his head. "No. It was just a coincidence that she was with me at the time."

"They're getting more confident," Cassian noted, pulling his car to a stop in a darkened side street.

It took Feyre a moment to recognize where they were.

"I'll walk you to the building," Rhys said, unbuckling his seat belt and getting out of the car.

“What?” Feyre demanded, mouth falling open as her eyes found Mor's. "I can't go up there knowing—knowing." She broke off, unable to finish her thought. How could she return to her apartment after people from Tamlin's company had just beat Azriel into a bloody pulp just to make a statement?

"Please, Feyre. We need to get Azriel medical care, and the longer you're with us, the greater the chance your cover is blown," Mor pleaded, one manicured hand brushing back Azriel's silky black hair.

"I want to help," Feyre said quietly as Rhys opened the car door next to her.

"You are helping. You already have helped," Rhys said, reaching inside the car to unbuckle Feyre's seat belt. "We need to keep you in a position where you can help."

Feyre swallowed, and let Rhys coax her from the car.

"I'll call you to let you know how he's doing," Mor offered as Rhys shut the door.

Rhys was quiet as he escorted Feyre to the side entrance of her building. "Use that earpiece as soon as you get upstairs. Let us know you go to your apartment safely. Okay?"

"And what if my cover is blown?" Feyre asked.

"If we don't hear from you in ten minutes, I'll come bursting into that apartment myself. They wouldn’t waste time on Azriel if they found out about you.”

Feyre repressed a shudder at the implication in those words: That if Tamlin’s people discovered her treachery, they would come straight for her rather than risk her retreating to the FBI before they could silence her.

Feyre gritted her teeth, lingering in the open doorway.

"Please, Feyre. We have to get Azriel help."

There were so many things Feyre wanted to say, things that the attack on Azriel now made impossible. Had it really been less than an hour since she and Rhys had sat in that bar, laughing and talking without a care in the world?

But Feyre said nothing, instead letting the glass door swing shut between her and Rhys. And since she knew Rhys wouldn't turn to leave until she did, Feyre trudged up the stairs, fighting the urge to turn back for a last glimpse of the attorney watching her.

Taglist: @rhysiedarling @shedoessoshedoes @popjunkie42 @adreamof-spring @that-little-red-head @witch-and-her-witcher @cinnamonmelody @azrielover @1islessthan3books @jenahid @toporecall @martzja @marinated-fish @riribbonss @tunaababee @muaddib-iswriting @queenofdivas

#acotar #feysand #sarah j maas #a court of thorns and roses #rhysand #acomaf #feyre archeron #a court of mist and fury #fanfiction #acotar fanfiction #feyre x rhys

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animezinglife · 3 months

Text

I love the sense of calm that exudes from the pages when Feyre and Rhys are together. Peace, tranquility, and safety. It's like you can feel her sigh of relief (figuratively and otherwise) in his presence. I could feel it in ACOMAF, and it feels stronger now. More lived-in.

It's the quiet, casual intimacy that gets me.

I love it.

#feysand #feyre x rhys #rhys x feyre #(also did they get human-married too or did I miss something?)#not that it matters #acowar #acomaf #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #I'm a simp for lived-in/established relationships in fiction anyway

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lily-chen-supremacy · 1 year

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feysand, nessian and elriel

art: @aiphos / aiphos.s

#acotar #sjm #feysand #feyre archeron #rhysand #feyre x rhys #nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #nesta x cassian #elriel #elain archeron #azriel #acotar fanart

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witch-and-her-witcher · 3 months

Text

Intermediate

feysand | E | Corporate Mod AU

3.7k, part 2 (the shameless smut), tysm @popjunkie42 for reading this over and joking about excel with me 😘💖 (also, for giving me some killer lines to add in hehehe)

Warnings: technically dub con, but in a canon typical way

part 1

~☆~

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

As if Feyre was going to accomplish anything during the remainder of the day with the threat of the Teams messages from her boss hanging over her head.

It was finally happening, the reckoning Lucien kept warning her of for falling for yet another ungodly handsome, wealthy businessman.

‘You never learn’ she can already hear him saying with a shake of the head and a tap on the sticky bar top with shot glasses. It’ll be the first in a long line of tequila shots they’ll pound back to commiserate yet another solid job lost for both of them because of Feyre’s wandering eyes and insatiable pussy.

It’s kind of Lucien’s fault for always sticking his neck out for her to get her jobs. Especially jobs with such irresistible bosses.

Maybe she’ll start crying and tell Rhys exactly that when he tries to fire her. Throw Lucien right in the line of fire …

God, no, she owes him after the mess at their last job. And besides, as much shit as he gives her, she could never actually betray the prick.

But fuck, Feyre really thought she had it under wraps this time.

Well.

She hasn’t watched any of the Excel videos Rhys has sent her. Hasn’t done any of her work assignments on her own, sweet talking quiet Azriel from down the hall into doing it for her. There’d also been the whole ‘arm wrestling in the breakroom' incident between her and Cassian that had left a mess of shattered glass, blood from the cuts running down his arms and HR paperwork.

But it had all seemed charming at the time.

The company doesn’t really need another administrative assistant, they need a breath of spontaneity and creative spirit to spark their own wills to live.

Right?

Feyre worries at her bottom lip, stopping to readjust the lay of her golden-brown waves over her shoulder. Even if it would fall apart under a brisk wind, the dusty blue cheap suit jacket nips in just right at the waist, accentuating her tits — which look fantastic with the push-up bras she’s taken to wearing daily. Just in case.

Before knocking on Rhys’s office door, she debates one last time if she should pull her skirt up to show off her long, lean legs, or down to maintain some appearance of professionalism.

She tugs the material another inch up.

If you’ve got it, flaunt it, right?

She knocks on the door apprehensively.

And because she apparently has absolutely no sense of self preservation, she bumps into the office with her hip without waiting for a response.

Rhysand Night looks up from where he’s adjusting himself back into his pants.

Feyre’s jaw drops. Her face heats a thousand degrees hotter and she sputters an apology, trying to cover her eyes and managing to nearly drop the laptop she forgot was tucked under her arm in the process. She scrambles to keep a hold on it, grappling at the rectangular edges and eyes wide and drinking in the last sight of the monster laying between Rhysand Night’s legs.

No wonder her swaggers around like he’s packing heat.

There’s no remorse as Rhys runs his fingers through his mussed hair, nearly violet-blue eyes hazy and lips parted.

“Shit.”

Feyre gulps. “Yeah. Shit.” She backs towards the door, struggling not to drop the laptop again — really, why are they so awkwardly shaped and unbalanced? And why are her hands suddenly so clammy?

Why is she always so sweaty around this man?

“Where are you going?” Rhys’s voice is dark, husky, even lower than when he’d last spoken right by her ear like a rumbling lion “My, my, what are we going to do about that, darling?”

The number of times Feyre has gotten off to that single sentence is shameful. Perverted. Unhinged.

She needs to be locked up if this man is going to keep looking at her under his thick lashes, full lips forming around that sinful voice’s words … and flash his cock. Shit. It was only the tip she’d spied, but they way his hand had been gripping so much really told the story of girth and length —

“Feyre? Are you paying attention?”

Feyre clears her throat. “What?”

In a wholly uncalled for, ridiculously sexy manner, Rhys doesn’t bother to latch his belt closed. As if she’s already seen the goods, why bother looking professional. He leans against the back of his swivel chair and motions to the desk.

“I asked you to plug in your laptop. I want you to show me what you’ve learned.”

Learned? What, like, the impressive size of his cock? Or the fact that at any point in time during her short tenure under Rhysand Night’s employment she could have walked in on him with his dick out?

Is everyone masturbating freely around the place?

Did Feyre miss out on some kind of employee incentive program with her welcome packet, ‘Whacking It Wednesday’?

She feels like she’s losing her grip on reality.

“I didn’t take a picture or anything, I swear. I should have waited for you to answer before barging in —”

“What are you talking about?”

“What am I — what do you mean ‘what am I talking about’?!”

He uses his chiseled jaw this time to point her towards his desk. “You’re fine. I was just trying to clear my head before you arrived, it’s not a concern. But I do want to see what you’ve learned of Excel.”

Feyre feels compelled by those dark features, that come-hither scent of his expensive cologne. Against her better judgment, she steps closer to the walking sex god.

“Clearing your head?” she repeats, brow furrowed.

Rhys smirks. “All of the leading business people do it. There’s a Ted talk actually —”

“About people jacking off in their offices?”

His face falls at her words, the critical tone in her voice. Sternly, he asks, “Miss Archeron, what did I say about inappropriate comments?”

Feyre is hot all over and now she can’t tell if it's from embarrassment, lust or simply frustration. What the hell is he playing at? He’s the one with his cock out at the workplace, but he’s going to give her grief?

She comes closer.

How is he so imposing even leaning over?

The skyline behind him silhouettes his broad shoulders tugging at the fabric of his shirt. His inky black hair lays in tousles across his forehead. The sharp cut of his cheekbones are accentuated by the dimming sunlight. Shadows dance along his handsome face. He looks like a dark prince surveying one of his subjects.

She’s never felt so small as she does in the shadow of his critical, watchful gaze.

With an annoyed huff, she sets her laptop on his expansive, polished mahogany desk. The damn thing probably costs more than her entire flat. She can feel the hairs on the back of her neck prickle as he narrows his eyes on her.

It’s unfair how his proximity turns her brain into a hot, gooey mess of sexual thoughts and little else.

She’s Feyre fucking Archeron. It might not mean anything to anyone else, but she has her own sense of pride to maintain which includes not fawning over rich, powerful men at risk of her dignity, damn it.

She feels like prey being watched by a predator and it raises her hackles, makes her want to lash out.

“Well, show me what you’ve learned.”

Feyre slams her scan badge down on her laptop.

“I haven’t learned anything. Just fire me.”

He raises a brow at her. “Really? You’d give up just like that? Why did you even accept this job?”

Feyre crosses her arms and rolls her eyes. “Some of us have to pay bills. Sorry to hurt your feelings, but all of those pretty things people say in interviews are lies. No one really cares about working for your prestigious organization — they care about not having to move back in with their parents.

And because she’s feeling petty and fuck it, she’s getting fired anyway, she adds, “And as for this dark and mysterious act, I bet your hook ups are lying about how hot that is too. It’s not. It’s overplayed. And kind of creepy when you add in the whole jacking off in your office thing.”

“I think you’ll find your wrong on that, Feyre darling,” he says, eyes flashing with challenge. “Most people will stab their friends in the back for an opportunity to work at my organization. I have applicants lined out the door, all with prestigious degrees to match. As for the rest, it sounds like you’re awfully flustered thinking about me and my hook ups.”

“As if.” She scoffs. “Besides, what kind of hiring standards do you have if you hired me?”

Rhys steps around the chair, pushing it to the side and removing the buffer between them just as he pulls himself to his full height. Feyre presses her thighs together under her pencil skirt — tells herself it's just nerves. She swallows thickly as he shoves his hands in his pockets and stares down the blade of his aristocratic nose at her.

“Oh, darling, did you believe those pretty things you were told you about your qualifications?” He reaches forward, grasping a piece of Feyre’s hair between his fingers and rolling it. Feyre can’t seem to remember how to breathe. Rhys gives her a positively feline smile before exhaling, “They were lies.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Feyre tries to back away, but her ass hits his desk and instead her breasts bounce with the impact. His gaze flicks down and then back up.

“I was going to fire you today. I told myself I needed to think with my head and not my cock. It’s truly an embarrassment to have someone so utterly unskilled on the same floor as me, as my top performers.” Feyre opens her mouth to protest, but he places one long finger over her lips. “Did you really think Azriel wouldn’t tell me? And I know about the friend in PR who has been doing the rest of the work for you.”

Shit. Sorry, Lucien …

Feyre tries to get her lips to move, get her mind to remember how to form words and string them together into semi-intelligible sentences.

She should only care about preserving her job right now.

But.

But now that Rhys is leering over her and there isn’t a chair in front of him, she can see that he hadn’t finished clearing his mind before she’d walked in on him.

The front of Rhys's trousers are bulging with lustful intent and a rock hard erection.

She licks her lips — forgets his finger, so the tip of her pink tongue swipes across that, too.

Fired. He’s going to fire her. Focus on that, not on the taste of salt on his skin that somehow is alluring and not repulsive. Don’t focus on how she wants to suck that long finger into her mouth, swirl her tongue around it with promise …

God, now that she’s gotten herself started, she won’t be able to stop.

Feyre fucking Archeron doesn’t fawn over rich, powerful men.

She also doesn’t follow rules. And it seems like it's time to bend this one.

Might as well go out with a bang, then.

“Are you sure about that?”

“Pardon?”

Rhys presses his thumb under her chin, tilting her face up and wrenching her eyes from staring at the outline of his massive hard-on.

“Are you … sure about that?” Feyre says breathily, gasping when he sticks his finger into her mouth when she finishes speaking. Effectively silencing her with that elegant, brown finger pressed down on her tongue.

She wants to squirm, but her heart is beating so quickly she’s pretty sure she’s going into shock. Feyre freezes instead, mouth hanging open, lower jaw caught between his thumb and finger.

Rhys is still staring down at her, nearly clinical in his assessment of her mouth, the bridge of her nose, the heavy weight of her lids suddenly.

“What are you offering, Feyre darling?”

She waits until he releases her tongue to speak. “No more Miss Archeron?”

Rhys growls and it shoots right to her cunt. Her insides tighten around nothing and it feels wrong wrong wrong even as moisture gathers in her panties.

“You’re a mouthy little thing, aren’t you?”

“You’re not very little yourself,” Feyre purrs back and in a rush of foolish bravery, she reaches out to grab between his legs. “Don’t fire me, let me prove I have other skills. I bet most people can’t handle you.”

Rhys dips down until his lips brush the shell of her ear as he speaks, “And you think you can?”

A shiver runs down her spine unbidden.

Feyre’s breath hitches, but she nods confidently.

Rhys’s low chuckle rumbles through them.

“I said I was done thinking with my cock.”

Rubbing two fingers back, she pushes through the fabric of his pants to skim his balls. Rhys inhales sharply. She presses her palm into the heavy weight of his shaft.

“C’mon, this is what all the leading business people do, right?”

Rhys’s head has fallen onto her shoulder as she strokes his length through his pants. His arms are bracketing her against the desk as he holds himself upright, biceps straining against the silken black fabric of his dress shirt.

“The point is to do it yourself to resist the temptation with a subordinate …” He groans as she slips her fingers under his waistband. “To not let lust addle proper decision making.”

Feyre tilts her head to let her hot breath skim along his neck. “That sounds boring.”

Her pulse is hammering between her legs and she’s pretty sure she’ll combust if she doesn’t get this man inside of her, filling her to the fucking brim. The skin of his cock is as silky smooth as his shirt, everything about him decadent and rich, rich, rich. Her thumb nail catches on the sensitive lip of the head of his cock, making him gasp, before she drags her fingertip along the precome slick tip.

Before she can get his pants undone, Rhys grabs her by the throat and presses her back flat on his desk. He looks completely ravenous, out of control as he stares down at her. His pupils are blown wide, swallowing up those pretty blue eyes. Feyre shouldn’t be as turned on as she is with her boss’s hand wrapped around her neck, but she’s hopeless as Lucien and her sisters have told her constantly, so with the hand that isn’t on his cock, she grips his wrist and pushes him harder against her windpipe.

A deep groan catches in the back of his throat.

“Fuck,” he says.

Feyre nods, using all of the pilates core strength to pick her legs up and rest her heels on the edge of the desk. Her skirt rides up lewdly as she spreads her legs to accommodate his presence between them, scoots her back up enough so she arches her breast upwards and lines their hips up as Rhys presses forward.

She rocks her hips forward, dragging her wet panties and aching core along his iron hard length. She whines under his hand.

“Fuck, darling, you’re a mess for me.”

Feyre bites her bottom lip and nods wordlessly again. There’s a niggling satisfaction as she thinks about ruining his outrageously overpriced pants. Rhys lets up his hold on her throat to reach down and run his fingers along her clothed slit, shuddering at the sticky mess he finds.

“I can take you, Rhys,” she says, grinding down against him.

“I’m sure you believe that,” he croons, pulling her panties aside to plunge two fingers mercilessly into her. Feyre arches upwards, moaning as he curls them upwards and catches the spongey, overly sensitive tissue inside of her. His massive hands easily reach inside of her and span to rub his thumb in tantalizing circles around the hooded bundle of nerves at her apex.

“You don’t?”

Rhy smiles devilishly at her, promising her demise. “I believe I’m going to ruin this pretty little cunt for anyone else.”

Feyre’s eyes shut as her mouth falls open, panting as he edges her into blissful ecstasy. “Do your worst.”

Rhys clucks his tongue in chastisement and removes his touch all at once. Feyre whines, starkly feeling the loss, the emptiness inside of her. She wiggles her hips, hoping to draw him back, but then she hears the zip of his pants and her eyes shoot open.

Pants shoved down to his thighs and thick cock in hand, Feyre swallows thickly at the sight.

Maybe she had been over confident.

The purple tip, the veiny shaft throbbing for her, the pretty balls — all hairless, perfectly manicured.

She hisses in pleasure as he rubs the head of his cock along her sopping wet opening. He doesn’t even bother to remove her panties, just pushes them to the side. She hooks a leg around his waist and tries to line herself up.

Rhys swats her clit with his cock.

“Behave, darling.”

“You know I won’t.”

Rhys looks down at her like a starving man.

He enters into her in one long, hard thrust and pushes all of the air out of Feyre’s lungs. She clutches desperately for something, anything to hold onto and lands with two fistfulls of his hair.

“Shit, shit, shit,” she pants, knees falling open in hopes to make more room for him inside of her suddenly impossibly small frame. “You’re so fucking big, oh my god.”

He doesn’t give her time to adjust before he’s languidly withdrawing from her insides and then plunging back in without mercy.

“What was that? I couldn’t hear you, darling.”

Feyre throws her head back into the desk, not feeling a lick of pain as he sears a path of his very own through her. His, only his, wrecked for anyone else. He hadn’t been wrong.

“You’re so fucking big, Rhys,” she moans.

His teeth drag down her chest, taking off buttons without a care and exposing the perky flesh of her breasts where they bounce at the top of her bra.

“Louder.”

Feyre clamps down on her mouth, pressing her lips into a firm line. Like hell she’s going to let the whole office know what they’re doing.

“You can’t tell me what to do if you aren’t my boss anymore,” she sasses even as he starts to fuck her brains right out of her body.

Rhys doesn’t like that.

He draws back from the love bites he’s been leaving on her tits. Pens clatter and papers are sent skittering to the floor as he drags her body someone even closer to his. Feyre is worried her knock off heels are going to go flying right off of her feet the way they’re clinging to her ankles by only their plastic straps.

There’s nothing slow or sensual as he starts pounding into her, balls slapping against her ass and his hips digging into her as he grips her hips and presses her flush to him.

“I said,” he growls between thrusts, “Louder.”

Feyre scratches and scrambles at his chest for something to anchor her. The ache in her core has diminished as he fills her relentlessly, only to be replaced with a roaring fire of need that threatens to consume her entire being. Her abdomen clenches with building pleasure.

He doesn’t let up, instead tilting her up so he’s slamming right into the most sensitive parts of her.

Whatever stubborn hold on her voice she had fails her. Feyre lets loose a throaty “oh!” that has to rattle the panes of his opaque office windows.

“That’s right,” Rhys says, moving a thumb to rub her clit in time to his thrusts. “That’s right, darling. Let me hear it. C’mon, come for me, scream for me.”

“Rhys … Rhys … Rhys!” Feyre cries out, losing focus of everything except the mind-blowing tension in the pit of her stomach as it explodes.

Rhys comes apart like a great mountain shaking and erupting with molten passion. He paints her insides with his hot spend and it shatters the thin hold she still has on her sanity. The tremors of his cock spurting inside of her hurtles Feyre into another impossibly strong orgasm.

“Made for me,” Rhys is panting as she shakes underneath him. “There’s no realm of existence where my hand was going to replace the feel of that tight little cunt of yours. God, your ass.” He squeezes the flesh of her backside. “I knew I couldn’t resist you from the moment you stepped into this building, Feyre darling.”

For several minutes, his office is only filled with their ragged breathing. When he pulls out of her, Feyre groans weakly. His belt buckle clinks as he rights himself and collapses into his chair.

Feyre sits up, unabashed as she feels the mixture of their climaxes coat her thighs with the movement. She’s making an absolute mess of his desk and she feels no remorse over it.

Rhys reaches around her and comes back with a pair of glasses, putting them on with a whoosh of air. A great exhale to collect himself.

“Well, that …” He rubs his brow, then looks up at her with undeniable smug pride. “That was something else.”

Feyre gives him a lopsided smile, dropping her cheek to her shoulder, letting her hair cascade to the side and expose her breast under the torn open blouse.

“Thinking clearer now?”

He hums thoughtfully, steepling his fingers in front of his sensual lips. Feyre realizes she hasn’t tasted them yet, realizes they’ve just fucked fully clothed on his desk and haven’t even kissed.

She had things under wraps? Yeah, right.

Hopeless.

Instead of kicking her to the curb with nothing but a final pay check and come soaked panties, Rhys pulls her to straddle his lap. His broad hand warms her lower back.

“Not quite clear enough. Think you could help some more?”

Feyre grins down at him.

“Whatever you need, boss.”

#feysand #feyre x rhys #acotar #acotar fanfic #feyre #rhys #my writing

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itsthedoodle · 1 month

Text

the tragic story of the vienna sausage

Summary:

“Feyre, before we do this, there is something you should know.”

She looked at him incredulously, trying to ignore the throbbing between her legs. He thought now was the time for confessions? Sighing, she looked at him expectantly nonetheless.

“My cock… it’s not like other cocks.”

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: none

Many thanks to @rosanna-writer for spending her lunch break beta reading this pure chaos of a oneshot 🩵

Read on AO3

“You’ve plagued my dreams for so long.”

Feyre had no actual recollection of how they had gotten there. She only knew that they’d met at a ball several hours ago, and she had been captivated by his aura the moment she’d laid her eyes on him. Rhys could command a room just by being in it, which didn’t really surprise her given his station. They had been introduced to each other, had hit it off right away, had danced all night long, dances during which more than just a few whispers about them had been heard, and had decided to go out for some fresh air. A ballroom wasn’t the best place to strike up a conversation, especially with the presence of eager eyes and ears, so anything remotely meaningful Feyre had wanted to tell Rhys had come rushing out of her the moment she had felt him stand next to her on the enormous balcony.

She had confessed that she loved the night sky more than anything else, and he had told her he knew the perfect spot on this estate for stargazing. She had all but begged him to take her there, so they had gone to the fountain in the center of the rose maze, and had sat there for who knows how long.

If anyone had been looking for them, neither Feyre nor Rhys had known anything about it.

Rhys had started tracing constellations in the sky, meanwhile Feyre had been busy tracing the constellation of stars in his eyes. He had simply looked away from the sky for one moment, had turned his head to look at her and whatever he must have seen on her face had made him risk it all and kiss her like a parched man finally tasting water again.

She had kissed him back, and the rest had conveniently left her brain.

She looked at Rhys now, looked at his flushed face and the silky hair she couldn’t bring herself to stop touching. He was so beautiful and she wanted him so bad that she could hardly make sense of her own thoughts.

His shirt had been thrown somewhere behind him �� or behind her? — she didn’t particularly care, and the top of her gown had been lowered down to her waist, her chest peppered with so many bruises she didn’t even know how she would cover them. That was a problem for future Feyre.

Present Feyre simply wanted to fuck the gorgeous man in front of her.

She ran her hands on his bare chest, the planes of it covered in strange markings she didn’t understand, moving them low to his abs and ending at his pants. She couldn’t wait to taste him.

She started to unbutton them when he put his hands on hers.

“Feyre, before we do this, there is something you should know.”

She looked at him incredulously, trying to ignore the throbbing between her legs. He thought now was the time for confessions? Sighing, she looked at him expectantly nonetheless.

“My cock… it’s not like other cocks.”

She suppressed a snort. Wasn’t that what every male said? Though Feyre had to admit, Rhys wasn’t like other males. He was different. There was something about him she couldn’t put her finger on.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” She said, unbuttoning his pants, lowering them and his underwear.

As they fell to his ankles, she only had enough time to register two things:

Rhys looked anxious, and his cock was abnormally large and long.

She blinked down at it, unable to form a coherent sentence. While she usually hated the “how will it fit?”, she was seriously considering whether it would actually fit.

She forced her brain to come up with something to say. “Not like other cocks, huh?”

Rhys gulped. “I’ll show you. Please promise me you won’t bolt.”

Feyre nodded, keeping her eyes on her unusual prize. She was horny, and she wanted him to fuck her, but she had to figure out something regarding that—

The cock, already at a size she couldn’t quite grasp, started elongating, with Rhys standing up from his spot on the fountain and putting distance between them with every inch it gained.

Her mind was blank. She wasn’t sure if she was dreaming or if she had eaten something that was affecting her clarity. Her head was spinning and her heart was threatening to jump right out of her chest.

Rhys was now on the other side of the center of the maze, and his cock was long enough to touch her nonetheless, and Feyre—

Feyre ran for her life.

She ran faster than she had ever ran before, and just when she thought she had put enough distance between them, she felt something brushing her ankle. She looked down, screaming at the sight of Rhys’s cock wrapped around her ankle.

Feyre fell, face on the grass. The cock released her ankle.

“Feyre please, I just want to talk. Let me explain.”

Her face was hurting from the impact, and she could feel her nose bleeding. Ignoring the pain, she used that moment to her advantage, standing and running again, without a single clue as to where she was going, seeing as she was in a freaking maze.

Feyre was aware of the ridiculous sight she was making at the moment — running from a prehensile cock and its owner, boobs out and swinging this way and that.

She stopped in front of a narrow path, the only way forward. It was a tight space, and chances she would be hurt in the process were high, but she couldn’t climb up the tall rose wall, so she went in. The skirts of her dress kept getting stuck in the thorns of the roses, but slowing down would mean the cock would catch up to her. While she was horny and would admit she could be talked into letting a prehensile cock fuck her, she was also terrified of how that would work to begin with. Would it hurt? Could he control the length? If that was the case, why hadn’t he just kept it to himself in the first place?

That’s right, she thought to herself. Because he’s a decent man willing to give his partner a choice.

Rhys… poor Rhys. He had begged her not to bolt. She had told him she wouldn’t and had done just that at the first chance she got.

“Feyre please,” he pleaded with her from what she thought was from the other side of the maze wall. “I swear I just want us to talk. You deserve an explanation.”

She did, she was aware of that. She also knew he deserved to be heard. There had to be a reason for whatever was going on. Who was she to judge someone’s physical condition? And besides, how bad could it be? She was scared, but at the same time she was also curious about it.

Making a decision, she slowed down, catching her breath. She was a big girl. She could do this.

Turning around, Feyre went to the exit of the path she was in.

As expected, Rhys came out of the parallel path, his cock now at its usual length.

She suppressed a snort. While she had been busy running naked from the waist up, he had simply decided to run entirely naked altogether.

The man was gorgeous though, like he had been carved by an artist. Even his cock was gorgeous.

“I’m sorry I grabbed your ankle.”

Feyre nodded. “I’m sorry I didn’t give you a chance to explain yourself. I was just…”

“Scared? Taken by surprise?” he said with a knowing tone.

She nodded again.

Rhys sighed. “You wouldn’t be the first. It’s a hard thing to explain.”

Feyre raised an eyebrow. It was a hard thing alright. Rhys caught what she meant and laughed.

“Has it always been like that?” she asked, genuinely curious.

Rhys shook his head. “No. A witch pretending to be a priestess cursed my family line centuries ago because I rejected her advances. It’s been like this ever since.”

“Is there a way to break the spell?”

He looked at her for a moment, taking in her appearance. “The key to breaking the curse would be a willing sexual partner who knows about it and accepts me nonetheless.”

Feyre hummed. So that would explain why he had told her. Did that mean—

“I know what you’re thinking. There hasn’t been a willing sexual partner in quite some time. You’re the first one to even agree to hear me out.”

“That must have been painful for you.” she said, approaching him.

He snorted. “Emotionally and physically, yes.”

Sighing, she stopped in front of him. “Look. The thought of it terrifies me, I won’t lie. But I’m also curious.”

“You… are?”

His unsure tone broke her heart. No one deserved to be feeling what he must have felt all these years.

“I am,” she said, bringing her hand to his cock, stroking it. It was smooth like velvet, which she wasn’t expecting considering how long it could get and how she had been running away from it until a few minutes ago. “I’m also still very turned on.” She went down on her knees, eye level with it. “I’d say that’s a good sign, right?”

Rhys was looking at her like he couldn’t believe his luck, and she used that moment of shock to lick a long stripe up his shaft.

He groaned, and she took him fully in her mouth, one hand gripping him and her other hand finding its way to her clit.

As she sucked and stroked, she felt the world tilting, a weird sensation in her head. She faintly wondered how it would feel if the cock elongated while inside her before her world went fully dark.

“Feyre?”

She groaned, feeling warm all over. She was lying somewhere soft. Had Rhys carried her inside the mansion from the rose maze?

She forced her eyes open, blinking several times, waiting for her eyesight to adjust. Rhys was by her side, her hand in his. He looked disheveled, stressed, tired, and fully clothed.

“Rhys?”

He sighed, sounding relieved. “Hello Feyre darling.” He leaned in and kissed her forehead. “I was so worried about you.”

“What happened? How did I get here, did you carry me here from the rose maze?”

“The… what now?” he said, wholly confused. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. You’ve been lying here for a whole week. The fever only broke an hour ago.”

“What fever?”

Rhys blinked. “You don’t remember anything?”

Feyre shook her head.

“Well,” Rhys started, “You got bitten by a venomous snake. Madja gave you the antidote on time but the fever needed a while to fully break — you seriously don’t remember anything?”

“No, I don’t,” She said, sighing. “I must have really been out of it.”

“You kept mumbling things about stargazing and… prehensile cocks the whole time?” he finished with a confused tone. “I’m just glad you’re okay, darling.”

He leaned in to kiss her gently and she returned it. Had it all been a dream?

“Rhys?” she asked tentatively, “can I be honest with you?”

“Always.” He answered immediately.

“I’d have been curious and willing to give it a shot, but I’m glad you don’t have a prehensile cock.”

#feysand #rhysand #feyre archeron #feyre #feysand au #the most unhinged idea i've ever had #also the most unhinged thing i've ever written #and trust me i've written quite a few of them #keep an open mind #and read at your own risk #acotar #acomaf #acowar #feyre x rhys #rhys x feyre #feyre x rhysand #rhysand x feyre

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the-lonelybarricade · 8 months

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"If you come with me, there is no going back."

Happy @officialfeysandweek2023 everyone!

@separatist-apologist and I knew there was no one who would fulfill this vision better than @krem-does-stuff and oh my god did she blow all of our expectations out of the water with this STUNNING piece inspired by Tamara and the Demon from Mihaly von Zichy. Check below the cut for some close ups and the original artpiece!

🚫Please do not repost without permission!

#Feysand #Feysandweek2023 #Feysand art #Feyre x Rhys #Rhys x Feyre #Feyre x Rhysand #Rhysand x Feyre

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springcourtrose · 2 months

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Please, stop... | Part 2

Pairing: Helion x reader (x Nessian)

Warnings: abusive relationship and descriptions of SA - MINORS DNI

Prompt: you’re Nesta and Cassian’s mate and yet you are so different from them. From day 1 you tried to be a good mate and do as they wanted and liked but they like it rough and you just don’t. Not only is it not enjoyable for you, it is actually painful. And not just in bed. You always excused their behavior as being overprotective but recently you started calling it something else: controlling. And one night, all changed as you uttered the words you had tried so hard never to say, but always thinking if you ever did they would listen. But they didn’t. And that night, everything broke.

(A/N: thank you to everyone who left comments on the first part, I haven't written in a long while and it was very encouraging 🩷 - English isn't my first language)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4

Azriel waited for dawn.

And he hated himself for it. He hated himself for a lot of things.

But he waited. For the day to come.

Memories haunted him as he stood on Rhys and Feyre's rooftop, his back leaning against the chimney, his eyes towards the starry sky. Memories of you. Of the first time he saw your bruised skin, when you were still trying to hide it. Of the first time he saw you flinch as Cassian raised his hand to cup your cheek and leave a kiss on your temple. Of the first time he saw you cry in the kitchen at night.

Of the first time he had run into you in that same kitchen one evening, barely clothed, tears and spit and cum staining your face. And you hadn't bothered to hide or feel embarrassed. You were too busy trying to be a good mate. For them, you would take it. And for his brother, he wouldn't say a thing. He walked away that night. He walked away from you, as they all had.

They had failed you.

So when dawn broke and chased the night away, Azriel entered the townhouse and woke his High Lord.

The sun shone bright high in the sky when you awoke.

You felt sore and heavy. Like you had been crying all night before finally falling asleep. The aches were familiar, from your neck to your wrists to the headache pulsing through your skull. And yet... relief. Relief that you weren't in their bed. Relief that you weren't in that house. Relief that you were alone.

Slowly, you rose from the bed. You knew these chambers. Large, gold, warm, homely and bright. You had spent several evenings there with Helion, having dinner, chatting, gossiping, laughing, talking about spells and books... Some of the best memories of the recent months.

It all came crashing back into you, the memories of hours ago. What you had done. A painful ache in your chest shook you to your core and you lied back down with a whine.

You had left your mates.

As painful as a physical blow, your heart twisted inside of you. The bond cracked in a billion pieces. You cried out as you felt it shatter. It left you shaking on the mattress.

A warm hand gently came to cup your wet cheek. You opened your eyes to find Helion kneeling before you, the worry on his face brought a foreign feeling to your chest.

"You're withering," he said in a whisper, wiping the tears off your skin with his thumb. You frowned for only answer. "You broke the bond."

The sound that came out of you broke his heart. More tears found their way onto your cheeks as you shut your eyes.

"They hurt you, didn't they? The bruises..." he clenched his jaw, trying to tame his anger, "they did that."

You grabbed his hand, his gentle, soft hand that had never caused you any pain, clinging onto him, onto the promise of safety. You tried to take a deep breath, then another, and another... But failed each time. He couldn't take it. Seeing you like this. You were usually so full of life and light. He had always said you didn't belong in that dark court. But they had done that to you. Let you waste away. They had taken that light from you.

He sat on the edge of the bed and took you in his arms. He held you as you sobbed, and cried and wailed. He didn't have the words to comfort you. There were no spells to fix this for this was the most unnatural thing. A broken bond could be deadly. But he wouldn't let you wither away.

"Tell me what happened."

He had to know. Had to know what had been done to you. Had to know what he would say to Rhys and your mates when they undoubtedly came for you. Had to know how to make it better.

"They hurt me, Helion," you whined. "I tried... I tried to be a good mate, I did, I tried... but they don't care," you hiccuped. "I was a good mate, Helion. I was, I tried, I swear!"

"I know, I believe you," he soothed. "I believe you."

"I really tried," you whimpered. "But it hurt too much. I thought they would... I wanted... but they didn't..."

"It's okay," he whispered, placing a kiss on your forehead, a hand running through your hair, another resting on your lower back.

"I asked them to stop." He froze, your words barely a whisper, like a spell to stop time. "I asked them to stop... Please stop. Please stop. Please stop," you repeated over and over again, like you had the night before, "I swear, I asked them to stop, I did, I swear!"

"I believe you," he said, tightening his hold on you. "I believe you."

"She called me a brat," you wailed, and he swore to himself he would make them pay for each broken sob and each tear, for everything they had done to you. "I did everything they wanted, I gave them everything, and they called me a bad girl."

Helion had to hold back a growl. He would make them pay for all of it.

"I was a good mate, Helion, I was."

"I know. I know."

"I asked them to stop and they didn't."

"I know."

"I... asked them... to stop... and they didn't."

You couldn't help the cry that escaped you, the echo of your broken heart as it exploded inside of your chest and left you in pieces. Helion lifted you off the mattress and brought you onto his lap. You buried your face in his neck as the words lingered in the room. The truth, a spell to break an unbreakable bond, cutting your ties to your mates, as painful as cutting off a limb.

They deserved death for what they had done to you. But perhaps the broken bond would be punishment enough. If they even cared.

He would tell Rhys. Tell him what a hypocrite he was. Promising a court of dreams, a better court, a better future, and yet here you were. Mistreated by his own brother, by your own mates. He had expected better of them all. What a fool he had been for believing in the Night Court.

What a fool they had been for letting you go. For not protecting you and your light, your joy and smile. He hated them all for destroying it, for destroying you.

He made a vow then to one day make them pay for all of it. And he promised himself he would one day see you smile again. He would bring joy back to your life. He would bring that light back into your eyes.

Nesta fell to her knees on the kitchen floor with a gasp. She felt a blow in her chest, her lungs, her heart. She heard Cassian beg from where he sat at the dinner table where Rhys, Feyre and Azriel had gathered them.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

It wasn't possible. It couldn't be. You had left them and broken the bond without even talking to them first. Were they really so horrible? Was she really so unlovable you would risk death to break your bond to them? She couldn't believe it. Would not believe it. All she knew was that her mate was gone, and the person who had taken her away was sitting right there.

"How could you?" she growled at Azriel, silver fire burning in her eyes. "How could you leave her there?"

"How could I?" he echoed, nothing but outrage in his eyes and in his tone.

"She formally asked Helion for refuge and he granted it, Azriel had no choice but to leave her there."

"He had a choice to bring her there in the first place!" Cassian shouted at his brothers, a hand resting on his broken chest.

"She asked me to take her."

"You should have come to us!"

"She wanted to get away from you!"

"Enough!" Rhys ordered as he stood up. "She left this court and broke the bond, I think her intentions are pretty clear. If you want to write to her I will send the letters to Helion but under no circumstances are you to try and get her back from the Day Court, am I clear?"

Cassian and Nesta looked at the High Lord like he had two heads, like they couldn't believe what they were hearing.

"She's our mate, she's ours," Nesta reminded him.

"Not anymore," Feyre said softly to her sister. "And it's our fault too," she murmured to her husband. "We should have said something, we should have done something. But we didn't. We let you hurt our friend because she was your mate and you were supposed to know best."

Cassian growled.

"What are you saying," Nesta demanded as she rose to her feet. "We would never hurt her."

Azriel's eyes narrowed. He knew they were oblivious, but they had to start fucking realizing what they had done.

"She's had bruises ever since she joined your bed over a year ago."

"We all have bruises," Nesta spat back.

"Not like this! How could you not see it? We did! And maybe that makes us worse for it," the shadowsinger muttered. "We saw how miserable she was and we did nothing. She was your mate and you didn't even know!"

Another blow to their chest had them lean over the table. Nesta rested a hand on the surface and sat near Cassian. The bond. It had shattered. Now only a thin thread remained. Fragile. And quiet.

"What happened last night?" Rhys asked softly as he sat back down in his chair.

"Nothing," Nesta said, finding it painful to breathe.

"Something must have happened," Azriel accused.

"We just... nothing unusual," Cassian shrugged, searching his memory for anything that could explain your sudden departure.

"She was trying really hard to make you happy, all this time, ever since that first night you left bruises on her. She took it for over a year and never complained, never said anything about it. She let you control every aspect of her life, she let you lock her up in this house, she did everything for you, she gave you everything," Azriel told them, every single word laced with disgust and shame. "And last night she came into my room and begged me to take her to the Day Court. Something must have happened."

"Well... maybe we were a little rough, but she never said anything," Nesta shook her head.

"She shouldn't have had too!"

"She asked us to stop," Cassian said in a whisper, his face pale with realization.

The silence in the room condemned him. He had a mind to let that one last thread go. He didn't deserve you. He had no right to hold onto it, onto you, after what he had done.

"No, she didn't."

"Yes, she did," he looked up at her with teary eyes. "Yes, she did."

"She never asked us to stop, never."

"But last night, she did. She fucking did, Nesta!"

And he could see it on her face. She had heard it too. And she had chosen to ignore it, just like he did. They hadn't even thought twice about it.

"She didn't mean it."

Azriel slammed his hand on the table and Nesta jumped on her chair. His form was surrounded by dark shadows, nothing but ice in his eyes and his voice as he said:

"Apparently, she did."

"Your mate asks you to stop and you don't?"

The look of shock and disgust on her sister's face had the last thread of your bond shake in Nesta's chest.

"She never asked us to stop before, I didn't know!"

"Nesta!"

"I'm sorry!" the female cried out. "I should have known, I should have," she admitted as tears fell down her cheeks. "I never meant to hurt her."

"Fuck," Cassian breathed, his eyes hollow as he looked up at his brother. "I fucked up, Rhys."

The High Lord stared at him in silence for a moment before he nodded.

"Yes, you did."

"We have to tell her we're sorry."

"It's too late for that, I think," Azriel muttered.

"She has to know we didn't mean it," Nesta begged.

"She believed that, for over a year. Last night proved her wrong."

"Fuck you!"

"Don't take it out on Azriel, Nesta," Feyre scolded. "We all failed her. This is on all of us. But you failed her most of all."

In five centuries, neither of his brother had seen Cassian broke down in tears. Ever. He ran a hand over his face, as if he could hide, as if he could disappear. The shame alone could have killed him but the look in his friends' eyes finished him.

They had lucked out, the both of them, with you. A second mate. A family of three. You were kind and caring, gentle and loving. They couldn't have asked for a better mate. And they had ruined it. They deserved worse than death for it. And he would live the rest of his life with that shame and regret. He deserved to spend the rest of forever with Nesta and the look of disgust in their friends' eyes.

"I didn't mean it," Cassian whispered.

Nesta shook her head.

"We didn't mean it."

Tags: @chessebookgirl @impossibelle

#acotar #a court of thorns and roses #nessian #nesta x cassian #cassian x nesta #helion #helion x reader #azriel #rhys x feyre #Feyre x rhys #rhys #feyre

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