Feysand Oneshots

A Jealous Rhysand

Rhysand:

The wind was howling in Windhaven, ice cold air biting into my cheeks doing nothing to diminish the burning jealousy pumping through my blood hot, and thick.

I trusted Feyre with my life, but I'd be dead before I trusted the fucking Illyrians. My mate was in the sparring ring training here for the first time upon Cassian's request. He thought our high lady may do well to encourage the females to fight for themselves.

She was doing a beautiful job of it too. She'd moved on from a magnificent display of archery that had drawn a crowd, and now sparred with various volunteering males around the camp.

I watched her from afar as her sleek powerful body moved in perfectly executed strikes of her sword, sparring with a cocky Illyrian male who hadn't taken his eyes off of her since she got here.

Feyres strong legs, her ass, her perfect breasts were tight against her training suit rather distractingly. I ground my teeth at the knowledge that others were thinking the same thing.

The asshole Illyrian in the ring eventually caught Feyre off guard, disarming her before she ducked and rolled between his spread legs, quickly drawing her dagger from its sheath to hold to his neck.

The males around us cheered, Cassian the loudest of them all, whooping and hollering as they admired what a trained female was capable of.

I couldn't tear my eyes away from the sight of her head next to the smirking male, their bodies pressed together, breathing heavily as she smiled in victory.

I would have been smiling with pride if not for the male before her grinning. I knew the smile was due to Feyre's soft body against his, and I didn't need to look into his mind to know.

Many of the males around them openly stared at her as she bent to pick up her sword. I even caught some of their eyes and stared them down at they did. I'd never felt so viscerally since our mating bond had first been consummated and I'd had to beat Cassian to a pulp to take the edge off the jealousy.

Feyre smirked at the males around her as they gawked, relishing in the attention. It wasn't easy to earn an Illyrian's respect, but Feyre had with her abilities... and her looks.

I didn't want to hurt the ego she'd steadily built since I met her, Feyre a fucking right to feel proud of herself. She was a warrior who deserved respect. But right now...She met my eyes before cocking her head and raising a brow.

'Something the matter love?'

She asked into my mind, her voice sultry and sensual. She was flirting with me, assessing my body across the open space where I stood, my body like the ice around us. She was completely unperturbed by my anger unlike the men who gave me a wide berth, sensing my power stirring.

'I think you know the answer to that darling.'

I watched intently as a large smiling Illyrian male entered the ring eyeing her body up and down brazenly. Twice. He grinned at her devilishly before he raised his fists for hand-on-hand combat.

Feyre chucked her sword to the ground raising her hands and preparing. The wicked smile she sent her opponent before promptly punching him in the jaw had me wishing it was my face in front of her, punch and all. That smile should be mine.

He hit her a few times as their sparring went on. The sight of her being harmed causing me to tremble in an attempt to contain myself, the mating bond lashing beneath my skin. He was enormous, and despite how powerful and strong my mate was, she was still susceptible to pain.

Feyre ended up winning by tripping the hulking male, before straddling him to hold his wrists above his head as if she were-

She looked at me with a knowing smile on her face as her chest heaved with her panting breaths. She was teasing me and letting them enjoy it. Making it look like she was about to ride him.