#EENIE MEENIE MINIE MO | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tadpolesonalgae · 11 months

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Dark! Feysand x Human! Reader: Tag, You’re It[***]

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

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

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

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

Well…’

“I—…what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where are you, little traitor?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“W—…what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What…?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Fey…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Good.

You could go down swinging.

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

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

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

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

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

————

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

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

Still.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Well…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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