#fae vamp

[bunnithechubs]

Vampire Order in Forgotten Hollow (inspired by @acuar-io's vampire gp)

[amethystpath-writes]

Hi can you do one where the hero is backed into a corner by villain's henchmen and the hero is begging them to stay away from them but they laughed and mocked them for they assumed it is cowardness and then the hero is being transformed into a werewolf, scaring the henchmen before killing them

(One of your list says that I have to pay for it specialized prompts or something and I'm not sure if this counts so ignore it if you don't want to)

Another Doe on the Road

NOT A PR0MPT

******

“You seriously thought you could take on Villain?”

Henchman was scoffing, but he didn’t understand. Hero backing up might have looked like cowardice, but only she knew it was out of fear. Maybe the traits were similar, but Hero knew there was a difference, and she also knew the consequences of every progressing moment.

“Henchman, please.” She could feel the beginning aches- the cramps that would refuse to go away until she confronted them. Her feet, her calves, her thighs...she felt herself becoming heavier.

“If you’re begging me, I’d love to see what you would do for Villain.” Henchman was closing in.

“I’m ser-” A sting spiked in her lower back, against the spine. She gasped. “Leave. Get away from here.”

He laughed. He mocked. He didn’t understand the severity of-

Hero screamed. Another sting took over her hand; it felt like it was on fire. “Get out of here!” she screamed.

No matter how loudly she yelled, no matter how ear-piercing it was, it only encouraged Henchman’s taunts.

“Seriously?” he asked. “Don’t you have more dignity than this?”

How did she convince him? To say her bones were breaking, her muscles stretching- growing- was absurd. He would laugh in her face.

“I have to show Villain this.”

Her body was breaking, stretching, pushing the limits of any human body. What didn't Henchman understand? "You are going to regret staying here."

Another string of laughter rang through Hero's ears. It was making her angry. Her face was becoming red and she gritted her teeth. The fear, the care, the empathy- all the qualities which made Hero human- were starting to fade away.

Fade. It was more like a deer jumping in front of the car in the middle of the night- when the glint of its doe eyes were both too soon and too late.

His phone was out, the flash on. He was recording Hero in all her torment, all her screams and pleas.

Hero's gums were aching. She felt tempted. In just a minute, she could have Henchman ripped to shreds, and how worse off would the world be without him? No one would miss Henchman. In fact, people hated Henchman more than they hated Villain. Hero would be doing everyone a favor.

As Henchman continued laughing, Hero could only focus on her rage. Not only that; she justified it. She warned Henchman. She told him to get away so many times- even cried and screamed in front of him. He had every opportunity to leave, and he didn't take it, which meant his death would be on him.

Hero couldn't be sure when her mind went to skin, to blood, to murder.

In one moment, she was pleading for another man's life. In the next, she was taking it.

In one moment, her screams was all should hear. In the next, it was his.

In one moment, she was human. In the next, she was something entirely else.

******

[mejomonster]

Anyone open to helping me decide on some vampire lore for a story

Mainly if the vampires will actually be able to stand sunlight. As in like "oh we just hid cause we look clearly inhuman in the light, but now that vampires are public knowledge fuck it we can go out if we'd like! On this sunny day!" (I'm picturing like Interview with The Vampire looks where u get them under florescent light or any light too bright and its clear their eyes are different, that they got fangs and nails like claws, that their eyes aren't quite like humans, that kind of Uncanny Valley look that's more noticeable the brighter it is)

Or as in the sun does burn them, its not just that they'd give away they're vampires in the bright lighting. Like vampires be burning up if they go out into direct sun.

Or something in between like Angel the Series kind of played with, that indirect sunlight like a cloudy day or inside a building with the windows open during the daytime is fine, just no direct sun rays straight down from sky into vampire skin or they catch fire and burn more the longer exposure lasts. (So a vampire could go out on a cloudy day, or with an umbrella or hooded coat and gloves, could run to shade quickly if they Had to dash through sunlight).

(Other things that'll kill vampires for Sure in the story: burning them - they're extremely flammable, stake in the heart or head cutting off, so the usual)

[vampylily]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Bandom Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Patrick Stump/Mikey Way, Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz, Patrick Stump/Mikey Way/Pete Wentz Characters: Patrick Stump, Pete Wentz, Mikey Way Additional Tags: implied petekey, Alternate Universe - A Little Less Sixteen Candles (Music Video), Vampires, Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Vampire Mikey Way, Vampire Pete Wentz, Blood Drinking, vaguely set in 2005 Summary:

“Fine,” Patrick says. He feels Pete grin into his wrists. “Just a bite, since he’s already here.”

 Or, Pete brings home a new friend, who is in need of a little snack.

-

User vampylily’s first bandom fic! A huge thank you to Lulu for being a wonderful beta 💗

[llondonfog]

I’m having so much brainrot over your potion au, thinking on silver piece by piece slowly recovering lost memories the former guard had took from him with that potion after encountering few of the NRC students and then having some identity crisis on who he’s suppose be, questioning what’s actually true or not.

Oh my gosh, I'm so glad to hear you all really enjoy it!! It's one of my favorite AUs that I have for Silver, particularly because of the identity crisis that we still don't know if we're actually going to see in twst canon (Is he really a prince? Did Lilia find him or steal him away? Does he have existing family, would he choose to stay with his father or seek them out? ALL PAINFUL THOUGHTS.)

I would still like to write it out eventually, but it would be truly wretched for him to come across his friends and classmates, and especially Lilia and Malleus in this state face-to-face— the guard is of course still by his side as his 'guardian' and ensuring he keeps up the dosage of the potion so that Silver remains uncertain of the fae he keeps seeing in his dreams versus what the guard is telling him is his true reality.

They all feel so familiar to him, the déjà vu an almost painful, physical presence crawling on his skin as he walks through the halls of NRC with his fellow RSA team members. And this is where I'm torn! I'm still working on if the guard has engaged in some kind of spell to suppress the memory of Silver in the NRC students (which fails almost immediately with Lilia, Malleus, and Sebek) or having them realize who he is and try desperately to talk to him after his sudden disappearance (Why has he just now shown up in the colors of their rival school? Why didn't he tell anyone about his heritage, they'd have welcomed him with open arms still! And why is he acting all of a sudden as if he doesn't know them, Silver has never behaved arrogantly like this before—)

This time around, it's Malleus that has to hold Lilia back from committing familiar war crimes on campus soil— that guard is a dead man walking, and it will be Lilia's greatest pleasure to remind him of why Lilia was the most feared commander of Briar Valley when his blood will serve as sustenance to removing the spell and bringing Lilia's one and only son back to his side.

[milfbro]

I swear to god sookie better no get back together with this man his dick game cannot be this good. I don't accept it.

[thewolfisawake]

Alright so I did the prologues (debating one more) but for now, it's intro of the dead that have come back for this month of the haunted. In order...I hope.

Roksana Molchalina. She is the ancestor that is 'mentor' to Artemis. She was an excellent duelist and brawler. She died due to an opponent not abiding by rules of engagement. However as apart of the 'living blood' that's manifested in later Empyreans, she has come to lend her expertise to Artemis, who lacks much of it. Her relation with Artemis is akin to an older sister even if Artemis isn't quite certain on that one. She had chosen Artemis because she felt he needed someone in his corner. Someone that had no expectation of him and to let him be a boy.

Vasily Mechnikov. The man, the myth, the menace himself. He is the ancestor that's supposed to be mentoring Kesil. He is considered a butcher even by other Empyreans because of his brutality and having been considered 'mad' for much of his life. He died at the hands of wife that had become a therian. He and Kesil do not get along because Kesil views Vasily's interference as body snatching since the man doesn't want to ever give it back when he has been allowed out. So Kesil doesn't let him go willingly. Vasily chose Kesil because he has so much power that he lets go wasted and wants Kesil to live up to what he can do.

Jocasta Zerviade. She is Eriskyne's mother. A changeling that had traveled to Scotland in the pursuit of knowledge and got way more than she was bargaining for. She was murdered in her home but unbeknownst to her was that Eriskyne's father, Seòras, had orchestrated her death after her refusal of Eriskyne to be taken to the Seelie. She is where Eriskyne gained their scholarly approach to the world but she was never so intellectually minded that she abandoned the care that comes with connection.

Faolan. The Wolf of the Wastes. She is Balmoral's mother and Sceolan and Nathair's grandmother. A ban-sith that had been a rarity born to her settlement, she had the ambition that came with youth to make a change while upholding the tradition of foreseeing and warning of destruction that threatened the Unseelie. Her technical death is being struck down by a magic array in order to allow Balmoral to escape the Abyss. She had only known Balmoral up to the point of being a young child but could see possibilities of his future self.

Nathan Adler. Aspis' father and Jasper's childhood friend/lover. He and Jasper met when Jasper had snuck into his place in search of food as a children. They had always been close and it was following Jasper on an assignment to Makalani that he eventually decided to stay. Part of this reason was Noelani, the woman that'd later be his wife, and the other was the sense of community he came to love. Aspis had recalled his dad as being immensely laid-back, fitting the place he decided to come home. He is where Aspis developed his habit of taking pictures as he told Aspis that he took pictures of 'those he loves and things he likes.' He is where a lot of Aspis' looks come from. He died when Makalani had been overrun by supposedly infernal creatures.

Noelani Adler. Aspis' mother and Jasper's friend/lover. The last acting chief of Makalani, Noelani had her hands in much of the affairs of the island. She hadn't expected to fall in love with Nathan but she did. And due to the close bond with Jasper, she came to know him well too. She was the one that pushed for the relationship with Jasper and had thought the hurdles were falling with the block on their feelings being dealt with. This was not meant to be as tragedy had struck. Noelani died with the infernal infestation that took the island. Aspis was only eight when he had last seen his parents. He recalled his mother as being very loving but very tough. While she entertained his fancies, she was never keen on Aspis ever leaving the island even if she knew that his curiosity would eventually win out. But that never stopped her from trying as Aspis had seen with his sister, Keahi, whom had been butting heads with their mom about her desire to leave Makalani.

Ioane Kamisarizuki. Noelani's father and Aspis' grandfather. The former chief of Makalani, Ioane had been one more in tune with the supernatural goings on of the island although he himself was not very good at detecting them. Aspis adored his grandfather more than anyone else in his family and was the one person, as most would say, Aspis would do anything he asked. He loved listening to the old man's tales of storied history and that he had learned from hunters or visiting folks from other islands. He died during the infernal incident as he had chosen for Aspis, injured and unknown to him cursed, to be rescued from the island's destruction rather than himself.

[starlitjasper]

Fae Vampires are too overpowered. You invite them over? Vampire law dictates you’re no longer in control of your front door. Visit them? Fae law dictates they have you in their grasp over the slightest mistake. Meet them on a neutral ground? “Wonderful plan, my dearest, but I’m afraid this obscure rule of vampire, fae, or both lores dictates you now legally belong to me, actually.”

[kestrelwormwood]

Sometimes drawing my artist sona hits different

[silken-moonlight]

My own introduction:

Hello, dear reader! I have absolutely forgotten to properly introduce myself. We shall begin with some simple things.

You can call me Moon or Swan, I go by both names. I am twenty-one years old and from europe. I am a writer, making up stories since I can remeber.

I enjoy fantasy books of all kinds. Besides this blog, I actually write high fantasy, but this blog is for my own enjoyment and fun.

My asks are always open to you, for either questions, requests, or anything else. My DMs are open too. I have created a SFW blog for just some fluffy and cute writings, maybe some poetry too. I will probably also talk about books. It is: @strawberries-filled-with-honey

Some rules for my blog:

No hate towards each other. I will gladly listen to criticism or if you do not like something. Keep it respectful, however.

Also: No minors. Absolutly no minors. There will be sexual and kinky content. There will be kinks portrayed, probably also some unhealty relationships.

This is all fictional, a form of escapism. So please be kind and nice to one another.

Also, for all BG3 fans: This page is a safe space for Ascended Astarion lovers. I have seen many people debate about it. Both Spawn and Ascended Astarion are good. Neither is better than the other. It's fiction, and what you prefer is personal preference. It does not make you a bad or a better person for what you like.

Also: Divider Creators I use: @thecutestgrotto and @saradika-graphics

Mythological creatures I want to write about:

Werwolves

Dragonshifters

Unicornshifters

Vampires

Faefolk

Fandoms I am in:

Baldurs Gate 3

Lord of the Rings/Hobbit/Silmarillion

The phantom of the Opera

Cats

Sailor Moon

The last Unicorn

Sherlock BBC

Good Omens

Hellboy 2

House of the Dragon

WEREWOLVES

Werewolf Best Friend in a Rut: idea, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4,

Alpha x Human Waitress Series: Idea, Moodboard, Introduction, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9

Werewolf BF with a Mommy Kink

Werewolf bf being sweet

Double Trouble (Vampire x Werewolf x You) + Idea

Fem Werewolf Sub Reader

Omegaverse Test meets horny werewolf bf

Subby Werewolf BF

Helping out your Incubus friend

Male Omega x Your breast

Adult Entertainment Werewolf BF, Part Two

Teasing your Dom werewolf bf

Connected to his feral side werewolf bf

Werewolf bf and body image

Comforting your werewolf bf (SFW)

VAMPIRES

Vampire Emporer: Idea, Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7

Lesbian Vampires

Again on Lesbian Vampires

Vampires feeding

Vampire Sugar Daddy

More on Vamp sugar daddy

Vamp Sugar Daddy Spoiling you

Vampire Sugar Daddy and your warmth

Vamp! Sugar Daddy (Nikolai) getting massaged by you

Vamp! CEO

Vamp Ceo taking you out for dinner

Female Vampire Seductress x female human reader

Dystopian Vamp Story teaser

FAE

Stag Fae

Bound for Eternity

Silver and Gold

Fae King bf with God-Complex, Part 2, Part 3

Zyran Rosefall

Dragons

Dragon King Husband

COLLABS

OTHER

The wild hunt: Part 1, Part 2

Dream Monster

Sfw things:

Werewolf bf pampering you, werewolf bf in your home

Elf boyfriend night routine

[vampylily]

Fandom: Fall Out Boy Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Patrick Stump/Pete Wentz Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - A Little Less Sixteen Candles (Music Video), Alternate Universe - Modern with Magic, Vampire Pete Wentz, Fae & Fairies, First Meetings, vaguely set in early 2000s Series: Part 2 of 2 vamps 2 vamps 1 fae Summary:

“Do you kiss all the boys the day you meet them?” Pete asks.

Patrick flushes, a gorgeous colour that dusts the top of his cheeks and tip of his pointy ears. “Only the ones that’s going to get me into trouble.”

Or, Pete falls into a puddle and meets a faerie boy.

-

The peterick vamp/fae fic is finally done! Yay! 

[gendercensus]

GOOD NEWS EVERYONE

I felt like doing some important research between annual surveys, and an offhand comment from @averixus prompted a Tournament. This will be the masterpost.

Me and @averixus chose the pairs in the first round using a random number generator on the top 32 pronoun sets from the Gender Census 2023 results.

Round 1

Poll 1: one/one/oneself vs. void/void/voidself

Poll 2: avoid pronouns vs. ze/zir/zirself

Poll 3: pup/pup/pupself vs. vamp/vamp/vampself

Poll 4: star/star/starself vs. thon/thon/thonself

Poll 5: bun/bun/bunself vs. xe/xem/xemself

Poll 6: mew/mew/mewself vs. ae/aer/aerself

Poll 7: xey/xem/xemself vs. they/them/themself

Poll 8: ve/ver/verself vs. ze/zem/zemself

Poll 9: e/em/emself vs. they/them/themselves

Poll 10: ne/nem/nemself vs. he/him/himself

Poll 11: kit/kit/kitself vs. rot/rot/rotself

Poll 12: fae/faer/faeself vs. ey/em/emself

Poll 13: hy/hym/hymself vs. hy/hymn/hymnself

Poll 14: she/her/herself vs. use name as pronoun

Poll 15: voi/void/voidself vs. bug/bug/bugself

Poll 16: it/it/itself vs. ze/hir/hirself

Round 2

Poll 1: one/one/oneself vs. avoid pronouns

Poll 2: vamp/vamp/vampself vs. star/star/starself

Poll 3: xe/xem/xemself vs. ae/aer/aerself

Poll 4: they/them/themself vs. ze/zem/zemself

Poll 5: they/them/themselves vs. he/him/himself

Poll 6: kit/kit/kitself vs. fae/faer/faeself

Poll 7: hy/hymn/hymnself vs. use name as pronoun

Poll 8: voi/void/voidself vs. it/it/itself

Round 3

Poll 1: avoid pronouns vs. star/star/starself

Poll 2: xe/xem/xemself vs. they/them/themself

Poll 3: they/them/themselves vs. fae/faer/faeself

Poll 4: use name as pronoun vs. it/it/itself

Semi-final

Poll 1: avoid pronouns vs. they/them/themself

Poll 2: they/them/themselves vs. it/it/itself

Final

they/them/themself vs. it/it/itself

WINNER: they/them/themself

[themusingsofacurlyhairednerd]

Datura Pt 11

Summary: Returning to the Mountain brings up a lot of feelings and Reader tries and fails to keep them all bottled up.

Content Warnings: SMUT (I told you it would come eventually ;) ), a lot of dirty talk, suggestiveness, a little light bondage if you squint, as well as alcohol consumption and drug use.

Author's Note: I apparently have a lot of feelings about sitting in Rhys's lap, 'cause I wrote this Vamp!Rhys fic and this in the same week. I was gonna end it on an angsty note, but the miscommunication trope makes me want to rip my hair out, so I made it fluffy instead (they're adults they can TALK TO EACH OTHER like adults). Anyway, hope ya'll enjoy! As always, let me know if you want to be added to the Tag List, and thank you to everyone who likes, comments and reblogs, ya'll make me want to keep writing <3

Previous chapter/ Master list

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The music is a heavy pulse in your skull, drowning out all thought as the lights flash and flare overhead like dozens of fireworks in time to the beat. Your hips sway, flimsy excuse of a dress clinging to your thighs as you twirl and spin in time to the beat. Dozens of hands pass you a long, keep you spinning and spinning until the lights glitter like stars overhead. You throw your head back and laugh at the way they glitter and stretch along your quickly blurring vision.

Someone passes you another cup and you tip the contents back in one gulp, savoring the burn, relishing in the way it fills your empty stomach. You’ve lost count of how many glasses you’ve had, lost count of where the empty ones go as you move along with the crowd, let the press of bodies move you like an ebbing tide.

A cigarette gets passed your way, the violet smoke filtering in hazy rings around people’s heads like halos. Do you smoke? You can’t remember. Can’t think about why you should care at all as you bring it to your lips and inhale deeply, letting the mirthroot take hold.

This is the most fun you’ve had in weeks, it’s the first time you allow yourself complete unbridled freedom. There is nothing to worry about here but following the music and the flow of drink as the mirthroot makes your body loose and limber.

Strong hands settle on your hips as you take another drag, eyes closed, savoring the burn. You sway your hips under the grip, pushing your body back into the firm planes of the male behind you. You don’t have the presence of mind to be mortified, to think about the way you’re grinding on a stranger in the middle of this crowd of people. 

Warm breath frames your neck, skittering over the golden collar still encircling your throat. “I think you’ve had enough, Darling.”

Mate. Mate. Mate. The words dance around the bargain mark on your ribs, heat flaring in your chest that has nothing to do with the fae wine or the mirthroot and everything to do with the fact that when you’d been dragged back into your cell, it had been empty. Empty and had smelled like her. And you’d thrown yourself against the battered door, claws slashing across the worn iron until they shattered from your fingertips, until you splattered blood across the unyielding iron, dark mist filling the cell until it nearly sucked the air from the room. You don’t know how or why the door held, why your nails couldn’t cut through the strange marks etched into the door; the only thing that was clear is that in retaliation for leaving, your fault or not, she’d taken Rhys and had left you alone in the dark. Days passed without word, without food, until the guards had come and thrown you into a room with the order to bathe and change and be ready in an hour and you complied only with the intent to go right into the Throne Room to rip her throat out with your teeth. But Rhys hadn’t been at her side when you arrived either, hadn’t been a face in the crowd as Amarantha declared to the court that you had slain the twins sent from Hybern for attacking their Queen. The crowd that days ago had been laughing at your plight as you’d been made to kneel on the floor like an animal was now cheering you on like a hero. Fickle and spineless; Amarantha said jump and they asked how high without question or reason. She’d left you to their whims after that and the wine had started flowing and you’d needed to calm the panic and rage swelling like a storm beneath your skin and had reached for one. One had somehow turned into two and then three and you’d lost count after that, lost yourself in the blissful emptiness and tried to forget how powerless you really were in all of this.

You turn in his arms and though he remains standing where he is, there’s suddenly six of him spinning in dizzying circles and you have to grip onto his shoulders to keep yourself on your feet.

“Easy,” he says, his grip on your hips firm.

You’ve forgotten just how big he is compared to you, how much of you he can fit in his hands. You're too far gone to stop yourself from wondering how those hands would feel beneath your dress, on your thighs, spreading you open…

“Easy,” he says again, nostrils flaring like he scents the effect he has on you like this.

Your hands feel like they're drifting through soup as you reach out to brush your hand through his hair. He’s clean too, skin healed, the clothes new and finely pressed. There is no lingering scent of incense, though you’re pretty sure the mirthroot you smell is on your skin and not his, he remains wholly jasmine and citrus. Nothing of her on him.

“You’re ok?” The words slur out of you, sound muffled and distant even as they come out your mouth. You need him to tell you he’s ok, that she didn’t hurt him, that he got called away for something, anything. He does other things for her, he brought in Tamlin all those weeks ago, he has other roles, but you don’t know how to make the words come out against the fog that rolls through your head. “You’re ok?”

“I’m ok,” he says with a nod. “Let’s get you some water.”

You shake your head. Water is somewhere near the tables and lounge chairs in the corner, somewhere she might be lurking, waiting for you to slip up, waiting for her chance to steal him again and you can’t have that. “Want to dance.” Want to dance and drink and forget; want to smoke and move and let the music erase everything that is happening around you so that the only thing that matters is the two of you. It’s an added bonus that if he dances with you then that means he keeps his hands on you, has an excuse to keep touching you. Gods you want more of that!

“Water first,” he says, giving you a little nudge backwards.

The move makes the world spin again and you giggle as you let yourself fall into it. 

“Wow, you’re really drunk,” he says as he hauls you against his chest and half carries half drags you through the crowd.

“You’re strong,” you giggle. You can feel the muscles in his arms and chest tighten as he moves you around, his fingertips digging deliciously in your hips. 

It’s by sheer force of Rhys’s will that you end up in a chair with a glass of water, that you take a single sip of and make a face. “Gross. Want more wine.”

A servant automatically appears with a glass beside you, but before you can grab it, or spill it given the way your limbs flop around, he snatches it off the tray. “Water first.”

You stick out your lower lip. “Why are you being so mean to me?”

He takes a drink out of the cup and suddenly the most exciting thing in the world is watching how his throat works when he swallows and the way the wine stains his lips. “‘Cause it’s fun,” he retorts.

You manage to get another sip of water down before you accidentally catch the glass on the edge of the table and spill it everywhere. “Fuck me,” you say dejectedly. In your state your first thought is to use your skirts to try and dry up the mess, but there’s not enough of them, the sheer fabric barely covering the tops of your thighs. 

“You have impeccable manners,” he says as he reaches for your hands to stop you from flashing the whole room as you try and wiggle the dress up enough to use it as a napkin. With a snap of his fingers the mess cleans itself. 

“Ooooohhh neat,” you run a finger over the dry table. “Can you teach me to do that?”

You’re too drunk to notice your mistake, but he says, “If you had any powers left, sure,” a little louder than necessary to cover you.

“Right,” you slur as you try to stand on shaky legs. “Well water was good, we dance now.”

He remains a firm wall between you and the dance floor. “Unless you can absorb water through your skin, you didn’t actually drink anything.”

“Had a sip.”

“Doesn’t count.”

“Meanie,” you hiss.

“You’re very cute when you’re drunk,” he teases and the grin he gives you makes you want to stretch up on your toes and kiss him right there. 

“You’re very kissable when you smile,” you return.

Rhys huffs a laugh and you think you might do just about anything to get him to laugh again. 

“I’m always very kissable,” he retorts. “It’s part of my charm.”

“So make part of your charm dancing with me,” you press.

He grabs your hand like he might do just that, but instead, spins around you to claim an empty couch and pulls you down to sit in his lap so fast the world flips and twirls in a blur of pulsing colors that makes you squeeze your eyes shut. The wine rises up in your throat, threatening to come back out in a rush and you curl into his chest trying to find a way to make it stop.

“I think this is better.”

You squeeze your temples with your palms. “Make my brain stop spinning,” you whine. Maybe he’s right, maybe dancing is a bad idea. 

Besides, he’s still touching you like this. More than touching actually. You’re situated in his lap, knees bracketing his hips, chest to chest, no collar around his throat to stop you if you wanted to put your lips to his neck. There’s not even a scar or bruise to indicate that it had been there, nothing but smooth, bronze skin and the teasing peak of his tattoos beneath his collar.

You brace yourself against his shoulders as the world stops spinning, suddenly very aware of how high your skirt is riding up and how strong the muscles in his thighs are between your legs.

He brings his hands to hold your hips again and you thank the Mother that you’re not so drunk that you’ve lost your inhibitions completely because the only thought in your head right now is how it would feel to grind yourself down on him.

“You’re very drunk,” he says lowly, his own gaze locked on the space between your bodies like he’s drinking in the way your thighs look around him.

“So?”

“So it would be wrong,” he retorts.

“What?” You move your hands to the back of the couch behind him, chest brushing his. There’s barely any straps to your top, the neckline a deep v that leaves your cleavage on display and you don’t miss the way his gaze tracks it as you lean in. “What would be wrong?”

He runs his tongue over his lower lip, staring and something stirs deep inside you. Claim. Claim. Claim. He is your mate and you want him to touch you, kiss you, claim you. 

It’s the thought that makes you pause for a brief moment. Does he know your mates? Does he feel this growing need? This incessant longing beating from your rib cage that needs to be touched and held and claimed so deeply you forget what it felt like to be anything else? Is that the bond? Or the wine? 

“Doing all the things I’ve been thinking about since the moment I had my lips on yours,” he says, voice barely a whisper, gaze still transfixed on your body.

You preen under the heat in his gaze, press your chest a little more firmly into his so that you can be nose to nose with him. The wine has certainly made you more brazen. “What kinds of things, Rhys?”

The hands holding your hips tighten, fingertips kneading the soft flesh hard enough to bruise and yet your whole body turns molten at that touch. It’s the delicious line between pain and pleasure, and after days and days of cold emptiness, the heat it sparks through your body is more addictive than any wine or drug you can consume here.

“Want this dress off you for starters,” he murmurs, full lips drifting down to dust over the straps clinging to your shoulders. 

His words conjure an image in your mind of him leaning forward, pulling the straps down with his teeth, baring the full expanse of your body to him. You shiver under the mental image, hips rocking down against him.

“Want to mark every bit of you I can reach, so that no one dares touch you,” he continues, teeth scraping over your shoulder. “So that everyone knows your mine.”

His.  The possession in his tone really does you in, heat building in your lower belly as you grind yourself down against the growing bulge in his pants. The scrape against your core makes your mouth drop open, groan falling from your parted lips. It would be so easy to come undone from this alone.

“Only mine,” he emphasizes, sucking a mark where your neck meets your shoulder, visible beneath that damned collar you can’t take off.

“Rhys,” you whimper, releasing your grip on the back of the couch to drag your hands through his dark hair. “Please.”

His lips move along your throat, teeth scraping your skin before sucking another mark into your sensitive flesh. He’s taking his time, just as he promised all those weeks ago on Calanmai. “Want to know what little noises you’d make for me, how you’d fall apart in my hands…”

You drag your hand from his hair, reaching for the straps of your dress to pull them down for him, hoping to spur him further into action, but he finally releases his grip on your hips to stop you. 

“None of that, Darling,” he tuts. “It comes off when I say it does.”

To that point, when you try to rock your hips against him again, it's his glittering, obsidian power that pins you in place, a slither of darkness twining around your hips to hold you there, utterly at his mercy.

He chuckles when you whimper and pout, lower lip sticking out, tears welling up in your eyes, because it’s not fair that he’s this close, that he’s just a hair breadth away from where you need him most and he knows it. He can smell it on you, see it on every line in your face, and yet he won’t move to help you.

“Please, Rhys, please,” you beg. The need for him is unbearable, your whole body burning like it’s on fire, the only relief is the contact with his body. Your mate so close to where you need him most.

“Hogging the woman of the hour, are we?” 

You hadn’t heard any approaching footsteps over the pounding of the base against the rock, the sudden appearance making you flinch as Rhys throws a warning snarl over your shoulder. It only makes the red headed male approaching chuckle as he comes to stand directly behind you. The cedar and cinnamon smell of him reminds you of curling up under a warm wool blanket next to a fireplace with your favorite book about vampires, something you like to do in nice Autumn weather.

Slender fingers drag up your spine, and in your delirious state, it makes you arch your back as you shiver under it.

“Eris,” Rhys purrs, but there’s an edge in his tone as he watches you move under another male’s ministrations. The sliver of his power around your waist tightens, the shadows slipping under your skirts to writhe against your flushed skin. He allows you to jerk forward, hips rocking right into the obvious sign of his own arousal, and your eyes roll back into your head at the contact.

“I can name a dozen males who would kill for a chance to be where you are right now, Rhysand,” Eris returns.

“I don’t share,” Rhys says and cauldron that’s all it takes for you to place your lips against his throat. He hums his approval as you scrape your teeth against his skin, hands threading into your hair as you nip and bite and use your tongue to cool any pain you cause him. 

Eris plops himself down in the seat next to Rhys, long arms thrown over the back of the couch as he makes himself comfortable. 

You can’t bring yourself to care about the audience as you nip at the underside of his jaw. He tilts his head back for you so you can reach more of him unhindered and you sink a little lower down on his lap chasing any friction you can find before the shadows tighten and still your movements again.

“Bastard,” you growl into his throat, but he merely turns his attention to the male next to him. 

“You didn’t respond to my message,” Eris hisses. A glass of wine appears in his hand and he takes a slow drink. To any onlookers he’s merely enjoying the party with the High Lord and his nightly entertainment. 

“What message?” 

“Shit.” This conversation is becoming sobering, despite your best efforts to tune out the other male and focus solely on the pleasure just out of reach. All night long you’d been able to forget.

Eris gives you a sidelong glance that might have made you squirm under the intensity if Rhys hadn’t shifted beneath you to get a better look at the other male, hips brushing up against your center in a move that is definitely intentional. 

“The one I gave her,” Eris snarls.

“This is the first I’ve seen her in days,” Rhys retorts, a hand stroking through your hair. “You know how to get in contact with me.”

Eris glances around at the dancers that move past for refreshments as he takes another drink. Only when they’re gone does he say, “So you didn’t tell her to kill the twins?”

You stop moving; stop thinking about Rhys’s body as the image of Dagdan and Brannagh’s mangled bodies flash across your mind. You’re suddenly a lot more sober than you had been moment ago.

Rhys brushes a mental hand against your mind and you flinch, head still tender from the beating it had taken trying to keep your cousins out. “Darling?”

The concern in his tone makes shame burn its way through your lungs. At the littlest thing he’s dropping everything to make sure you’re ok, and yet here you are, with no idea where he’s been or what he’s been through and you’re grinding in his lap like a horny teenager. What kind of mate are you?

“No I didn’t,” Rhys says to Eris, even as he makes another tender stroke against your mind, asking to be let in. “But I’m sure she had her reasons.”

“Do you think we can use it to our advantage?” Eris asks.

You don’t deserve how gentle he is with you, but you can’t stop yourself from lowering your shields just enough to let him in. He should know just how much of a monster you’re capable of being before he gets too close. 

“Will you show me?” He asks and you open the doorway into the memory, keeping the conversation you’d had with Tamlin about him, the realization of what he is to you, out of reach. He deserves better than that.

Rhys strokes his hands in your hair as he watches the memory unfold, your body shaking in his grip as all that blood and gore comes into view. When it’s over, he closes the door in your mind and clicks the lock into place for you. “It’s over. You’re safe. You did what you had to do to survive, there is no shame in that.”

You press your face into his shoulder to hide the tears brimming in your eyes. You’re an ugly crier when you’re tipsy and you know if you start, you won’t stop.

“I think it’ll bring Hybern here quicker,” Rhys says to Eris, as he drags the fingers in your hair down to trace your spine. To an onlooker, he’s still playing with you, only the two of you know how often he’s traced these shapes into your skin when you wake up screaming in the dungeons. “Which can be played to our advantage if we’re careful.”

Eris takes another sip of wine, mulling it over.

“If Hybern can be convinced that our queen is acting out of her own agenda instead of his, he may just do our work for us.”

“A dangerous game,” Eris frowns.

“It always is,” Rhys returns.

It’s astounding how calm and level headed he can remain, always centered, even while everyone else rages and panics around him. How are you supposed to be his equal? To his calm there is only your spinning thoughts and unchecked temper. Everything makes you want to claw and rage and smash things; aren’t mates supposed to balance each other out? What do you bring him other than another mess to sort through?

“Well if you’re not going to share her, I’ll leave you to it,” Eris says as he downs his cup and stands, making a show of stretching, tight shirt rising up to expose the toned line of his abs to a passing cluster of male and female dancers.

Rhys chuckles at that, sliding a little lower into the couch, as he says, “She’s all mine.”

Is this all the conversation they can have? A few passing whispers? A few half-veiled hopes at a plan? Fifty years of juggling court masks and gathering allies and pushing pieces into place in the shadows while everyone else parties around them? It’s such a contrast to the world you’re used to that you can’t help but feel small inside it. 

It’s only when he’s gone that Rhys asks, “Are you ok?”

“I thought being drunk was supposed to make me feel less depressed,” you grumble into his shirt because he’s pleasantly warm and you can’t bring your body to move from where you’re pressed into his chest.

“I think you passed over the threshold for that a couple drinks ago,” he replies.

“Take me back to the blissful void,” you whine.

“Well enough people have seen you here with me, I think we can slip away and get you into bed without causing a scene now.”

He’d pulled you over here on purpose, removing the shield of the crowd so people would see you with him, see you cutting loose, and when you disappeared they’d think he’d taken you to bed and not wonder if there was anything more to it, because his reputation was enough. That mask was so encompassing it could shield you too.

Rhys winnows you away and you can’t tell what end is up anymore, not until he sets you square in the center of a bed with black silk sheets. His room, as dust covered and bare as it had been the last time.

You groan as you fall back into the pillows, all the wine threatening to come up again as you try to keep yourself upright. This position allows you to feel just how wet you are between your legs, making you stop squeezing your eyes shut to look at the damp spot you’d left on Rhys’s pants. Not that he seems to notice as he peels off his jacket and starts unbuttoning his shirt, getting comfortable for the night, even as shame makes your cheeks turn bright red. What is wrong with you?

“You need a bucket over there?” He asks.

You need to drink until you can forget what you’ve been doing all night. How are you supposed to look at him now?

You hear the clink of his belt coming off before he climbs into the bed next to you and you force yourself not to open your eyes and look at what he’s wearing to bed, because you’ve made a fool of yourself enough for one night.

“That last drink was a mistake,” you lie, because what else are you supposed to say?

His body is warm as he lays down beside you. “You played your part well,” Rhys encourages. “No one will think twice about where you’ve gone.”

You’re an idiot, but you’re not quite sober enough to think better of it as you ask, “Is that all this is? A game?”

Rhys uses a bit of his power to snuff the candles out, bathing the room in utter darkness. “It’s necessary-”

You roll onto your side, finally daring to look at him, as best you can in the dark anyway. “But is that all you want it to be?” You press. 

He’d been laying with his hands behind his head, staring at the ceiling, but at your words he rolls over too, so you’re once again nose to nose, practically sharing a breath.

“Wanting anything is dangerous, Y/N.”

“So all that you said earlier, about wanting me, that was just for show? This is just a mask?”

“It keeps you safe,” he says so low it's almost a growl.

“But it’s not what you want?”

“I can’t…” he shakes his head. “I can’t. The things I love have a tendency to be taken from me, I cannot want anything other than to get out of here.”

Your eyes sting and you’re glad for the dark, glad that it hides the tears welling up in your eyes. “I can play this part, if that’s what we need to fulfill this bargain,” it’s a concentrated effort to keep your voice steady, but you mean it. If this is all it will be, then you will have to find a way to live with it, because at least your mate will be alive. And maybe, if Amarantha sees anything like what you two had been doing tonight, then maybe she’d direct that anger at you instead of him. You could find a way to use it to protect him, the same way he’d used it for you.

He’s your mate, whatever you have to do to make sure he survives, you’ll do it. Even if it tears you apart inside.

“But please, just tell me that it’s not real, that you don’t really want me, so that I can prepare, so that I don’t overstep. The last thing I want is to make you uncomfortable.”

His pause feels like it spans an hour, the silence ticking away like a clock in the darkness. “I…”

You stamp down the hope flaring in your chest, it’ll be easier to deal with if he is up front that he doesn’t see you as anything but a means to an end. “What do you want, Rhys?”

He growls, the sound skittering across your bones as he throws an arm around your waist and crashes his lips against yours. “You,” he says into your mind. “I want you in any way you’ll have me.”

The ink on your chest warms, feels strangely like it’s glowing beneath your skin as the solid weight of him settles on top of you, pushing you into the mattress. You're a tangle of limbs and teeth, as he kisses you like it might be his only chance to.

You drag your hands down the sharp contours of his spine, memorizing the feel of him beneath your fingertips as his tongue slides behind your teeth to taste you. This is far better than any drug, no amount of mirthroot could ever make you feel this high.

“You’re ok with this?” He pants into your lips, finally coming up for air.

“More than ok,” you confirm and that’s all it takes for him to start sliding the straps off your dress, pulling the tight fitting bodice slowly from your body. The chill in the air is only a momentary discomfort before his hands and lips chase it away as he follows the fabric down your body.

Thank the Mother for the privacy of the room, that you hadn’t managed to get your top off like you’d tried to do in the throne room, because the noise you let out when he gets his mouth around your nipple is embarrassingly loud, whole body flushed crimson. You clamp your hand over your mouth when he does the same move on your other breast, or at least you try to, that slithering ether of power snags your wrist and pins it above your head before you can cut off the noise.

“None of that,” he hums into your skin, teeth scraping your skin. “Want to hear you.”

Cauldron he’ll be the death of you! 

It’s his power that whisks the glamor away from the bargain mark so he can run his lips over the ink, tracing the flower petals and vines. “We should make more bargains, you look so pretty with all this ink.”

You huff a laugh as you scrape your nails through his hair, making a mess of it. “What kinds of bargains?”

He kisses lower, pulling the dress down towards your hips, following it again. “That you’ll let me taste you like this once a day for the rest of eternity,” he suggests as he lifts your hips to get the dress lower.

“I’m not wasting a bargain on that,” you huff, though you’re embarrassed to admit the way the suggestion makes heat pool in your core.

“You’re right, twice a day is more practical,” he says as he slips both the dress and your underthings off in one fell swoop. Strong arms wrap around your hips as he settles himself between your legs and you barely have time to draw a shaky breath before he’s running his tongue up your center.

“I-” all thought and argument eddies from your mind as your body arches under his ministrations. 

“More than that, perhaps?” He teases, adding a finger to the mix, even as his tongue swirls through your quickly budding arousal.

Your hand in his hair tightens, pulling his hair as you try and guide him deeper. “Rhys,” you whimper. He feels so good; so perfect. Nothing else would ever compare; he’s barely touched you and you’re fully ready to come apart already.

He adds a second finger, stretching you out as his tongue flicks over your clit, the combination making your head spin. You screw your eyes shut as your body tightens, muscles taut as a bow string as your pleasure builds too fast to prepare for. He might still be talking nonsense about bargains but you genuinely can’t hear a word he says against the white noise tearing through your head.

Mate. Mate. Mate. It’s right where the flower-what did he say it was called? Datura?-sits over your heart that you feel the bond between your souls, like a tether of glittering starlight. It’s been there, faint before, just enough of a tether to let you feel a bit of him at the other end, but now it thrums with his power, like it’s searching for your own. A call like the one he’d sent out on Calanmai, and you can’t tell if he’s testing to see if you know it’s there, or if it’s you pulling on it, begging to be closer to him as your high crashes over you.

Rhys kisses his way back up your body, lips damp with your arousal. “You know?” 

The disbelief in his tone brings you back to reality. Your shields had been down and you’d just…

You push yourself up on your elbows. “You knew?” You counter.

He brushes his lips over the bargain mark again, distracting himself from looking into your eyes as he says, “I suspected, before Calanmai, but afterwards, when I saw you for real, not just as a dream, it clicked.”

“You’d been dreaming about me?”

Another kiss on your heated skin, body relaxing under his touch. “For decades,” he whispers. “And I told myself that it was enough, that I’d leave it there, where you were safe and far away from all of this, but then there were whispers in the court about at a weapon Hybern was looking for. The more she had me look into it, the more my dreams started making sense, the better I could see you.”

You brush your fingers through the hair falling over his eyes, prompting him to finally look at you. “When she narrowed down that you were in Spring, she started sending me out on Calanmia to look for you, thinking it might mask all her hunters with those coming to the party. It was my only chance to reach you and I had every intention to get you to leave Spring.”

He catches your hand and presses a kiss to your fingertips. “I never meant to let you see me, but you were so scared and she decided to come out herself for the first time in years and I panicked. I couldn’t stop thinking about what would happen if she got her hands on you first.”

Your eyes sting at the confession. Your selfless mate, who through all these years of trauma, had still been willing to let you go without ever getting to see you if it meant you didn’t end up here.

“I swore that I’d do everything in my power to get you out, but I couldn’t… I couldn’t stay away, no matter how much I tried to. You needed me and I… I need you.”

You’re not entirely sure how useful you’ve been to him in all of this, but you let him speak anyway. 

“Not just this,” he says, gesturing to your bodies. “But for all of it.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I don’t want you to think you’re stuck with me,” he says. “It doesn’t have to mean anything if you don’t want it to.”

You sit up as best you can around the weight of him over you so you can grip his face. “I’m not stuck with you. I’m choosing you. I want you, Rhys.”

The disbelief in his eyes makes your heart ache and you lean forward to gently kiss the tip of his nose. “Not just for this,” you repeat, gesturing to your bodies as he had done. “Though it is amazing.”

He grins at that.

“And not just this,” you drag his hand over the ink on your chest. “But for whatever is beyond this. When it’s all over, when we’ve won and we’ve got her stupid head on a pike, I want to explore whatever comes next with you.”

He kisses you then, eagerly, a little less frantic than before, but with no less desire, the taste of your arousal still faint on his swollen lips. You lean back into the mattress, pulling him down with you. 

“I know this whole thing is twisted and terrifying, but I want to walk with you through it. Together.”

“Together,” he confirms as you wrap your legs around his waist.

A new bargain mark zaps across your skin, over your palm, where your hands are intertwined, a twin to the one on his own hand. 

“I still think I made an excellent bargain offer,” he says as you tug at the waistband of his boxers.

“You’re insufferable, Rhysand,” you laugh.

“I think the word you’re thinking of is insatiable,” he counters as he lines himself up with your entrance.

“That too,” you reply as you arch your back, the tip of his cock gliding through your arousal. It’s a little more of stretch than you're used to, but the line between pain and pleasure blurs as he slowly rocks his hips into yours, taking his time to let you adjust. He really will ruin anyone else for you, not that you’ll ever want anything other than this from here on out.

“Darling,” he purrs, or tries to, the groan he lets out as he fully seats himself inside you makes shivers run up your spine. “You have no idea how insatiable I can be.”

You rock your hips, prompting him to move, to match your rhythm, to fill and take and claim you as your body has been begging him to all night long. “I think you should show me.”

The laugh he lets out sounds more like a growl as he picks up his pace, one hand braced against the headboard to give him more leverage as he slides nearly out of you and slams back in. You cling to his shoulders, nails gliding over his sweat-dampened skin for leverage, his name a whimper on your lips.

The bond between you glitters, swells with all the affection and desire he feels for you as he shoots in down to you. For all the pain and trouble it had caused, you think you still you might have come out earlier on Calanmai, just to feel this sooner. 

You whimper his name again and again as your high once again draws closer, your body white hot. 

“I’ve got you,” he says in your ear and judging by the frantic rutting of his hips you know he’ll be right there with you. Together in this, as you will be in the rest of it. You let yourself fall, unrestrained, as pleasure washes over you, your mate giving a shout as he follows close behind. The two of you topple into the sheets, clinging to each other as you catch your breath.

“You ok?” He asks as you cling tightly to him, even as your body relaxes.

You nuzzle your face into his chest. “I’m with my mate, how could I not be?” Whatever tomorrow holds, whatever dangers lie ahead, you can rest knowing that you’ll be together for it.

------------------------------------------

Tag List: @mariahoedt, @lovelydove, @twsssmlmaa, @sleepylunarwolf, @judig92, @willowpains, @daughterofthemoons-stuff, @annnaaaaaa88, @myheartfollower, @uniquecolorwizard, @eternallyelvish, @waytoomanyteenagefeels, @lovemesomevesey, @localfangirl09, @isa1b2h3, @starswholistenanddreamsanswered, @slytherintaco, @iluvewman-blog, @thebeautifulmysteriesoflife, @kitsunetori, @lilah-asteria, @dianxiaxie, @msoldier

[maria-ruta]

wanted to draw this moment from our vtm game long ago!

Veronica's friend gangrel anarch Jack came to New Orleans (presumably) to help local gangrels streighten their position in the city during conflict with sabbat

Veronica had to meet with him but she was looking after Monica(fae girl) at the moment and couldn't leave her alone (it wasn't safe at such time) so she just took girl with her to the nightclub, where Jack said he'd be waitng Veronica

Monica couldn't walk well after just recently waking up from coma, so Veronica was carying her around like that (It also would be impossible to sneak around and move fast with a wheelchair anyway)

When friends noticed several shady guys(vamps?) going after them - they were on second floor of the club, so they decided to jump in order to escape the chase. Veronica trusted Jack more than herself to cary Monica while jumping down - girl didn't even get a scratch

Nightclub, pole dancers, chasing, adventures all together - need I say Monica had ton of fun this night!

Even tho Charlie (Monica's step dad and also Osato's character) was very upset that Veronica took girl to such a lecherous place XD

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Wicked Felina (The Girl That I Love)

Part 5 - I Remember Everything

Azriel x Reader/Rhysand’s Sister - Angst

Rhysand and Y/N rush back to the River House to find the aftermath of Azriel’s bloodlust. Y/N comforts Azriel as she grapples with the memories that have begun coming back to her.

Part 3 ~ Part 4/Prequel - Neon Moon ~ Masterlist

warnings: non-con/dub-con elements (please be advised as this will be an element going forward as we work on unpacking Felina / Y/N’s past), sexual content, blood (vampy things), language, MDNI, 18+

“Azriel” I whisper.

My mate is in a corner, bound by his own shadows, barely visible through the stray ones obscuring him.

Feyre, fortunately, is fine. I hear voices behind me. My brother checking that his mate is truly well and unharmed. A feather in his jaw is the only sign of his true state of despair as he tries to remain composed before her and myself. I’m sure Azriel will get a tongue lashing later, but for now, all I care about is his own well-being.

I step into the shadows with Azriel, kneeling by his side. His body quivers, tensing as I lean into him, “Don’t.” He chokes out.

“Azriel.” My palm lays flat on his forearm, his cool skin blending in with the chill of my own. Damned Vampyr blood, I miss the warmth of my fae blood coursing through me.

“You won’t hurt me. I am not afraid of you.” His teeth grit but he looks to me, pupils blown so wide that the golden-flecked hazel of his eyes has nearly dissipated. “It was blood-lust, a matter which you have no control over. Everything is alright now but we need to get you upstairs.”

He’s silent, head hanging low, entire body still quivering. A small shake of his head barely registers as he succumbs to his own self-loathing. The shadows beneath his eyes mirror the despair flowing from his end of the bond. “Feyre is okay. You, too, will be okay. But you need to feed now or this will get so much worse.”

Before he can object, my fingers gently grasp the mottled, tan skin of his wrist and I winnow us to our room.

“It’s okay, Azriel.” I whisper upon deaf ears. “You can’t help this. It will be fine.”

The shame that now radiates freely through our bond nearly causes me to stumble. The noble Shadowsinger, protector and defender, succumbing to the basest of instincts that are hard enough to quell for a well-controlled vamp, let alone one as recently turned as he. This isn’t his fault. Once he’s fed, we will speak on that but for now…

“Azriel. I need you to focus on me.” His gaze meets mine and this time it holds something else. His nostrils flare, scenting me and the familiar fragrance of our chamber that he’s become so accustomed to recently. My hands guide him to sit on the edge of the bed and I straddle his lap, his hands instantly grip my hips, pressing me down against him. One would think the move was sexual, but I was well-aware it was the grip of a predator entrapping his prey.

“Feed.” I whisper.

A brief flicker of question crossed his steely gaze as he fights the urge to latch on desperately.

“Azriel. Now.” The authoritative tone in my voice seems to do the trick as before the command has finished crossing my lips, his elongated canines flash and he’s on me.

“Take what you need, Az.” The brief sting of his fangs puncturing the pulsing, delicate skin of my neck elicits a slight gasp from my throat. With a deep suck and a needy whimper, Azriel begins to feed, his tongue lapping at the blood pouring from my skin.

His hands roam fervently, the lack of control apparent as they can’t seem to settle on where to rest. Eventually one scarred hand reaches my breast, squeezing and caressing, his fingers tweaking and pulling a nipple until it’s peaked.

The frenzy begins to affect me, a wash of euphoria leaving a light geeling - a welcome reprieve from the heaviness of the day.

In moments, I’m lost to it, fighting to stay present as Azriel’s laps grow vigorous. With a flip, he has me on my back, pinned beneath him on the bed, he takes a particularly long draw of blood ending with his hips grinding into me.

Eventually, his feeding becomes slightly more relaxed and less frenzied, the more primal kind of lust only beginning.

I dig my fingers into the raven locks of his hair, focusing on the sensation, steadying myself against the intoxicating blend of lust and hunger.

The warmth of his tongue against my neck is like electric to my nerves as jolts of pleasure course down my torso and straight to my core.

I need him. Fuck. I need him so badly.

No, I don’t need. I want. And there’s a difference between the two.

Just like in the days after he’d turned, after we’d accepted the bond, the urge to feed and claim wash away any semblance of reason or control from my mate. But I’ve been turned long enough, I can ground us and prevent it from going too far. For once, I have the freedom of control. I wasn’t always so fortunate.

“Az” I whimper as a finger slips under the panties beneath my skirts. He groans at the wetness he finds awaiting him. I rock my hips against his hand in a plea for more friction but he pulls it back, adjusting himself between us until I feel the girth of his head prodding at my entrance. He withdraws his mouth, wings flaring slightly with the motion as he stares into my eyes, so deeply I swear he can see straight to my soul, and all the darkness lingering within.

Without breaking eye contact his hands grip my waist and spear me down the length of him. I throw my head forward, letting out a muffled scream into his shoulder. I stay still, chest heaving as I catch my breath, taking a moment to adjust to the sudden intrusion, his size is jarring in the best of ways.

“Perfect.” Azriel growls when I give a little shift of my hips. His hair tickles my ear as he leans in to press a surprisingly tender kiss to my neck.

I lean back, the motion sending crashing waves of bliss through me. I meet his eyes this time only to find that his gaze has now softened, his pupils not quite as wide.

“Welcome back.” I whisper, brushing aside the stray hairs that have fallen over his forehead, marveling in the beauty of my mate.

He blinks and I could almost swear that tears cast a watery glaze over his hazel eyes.

“I’m.. so sorry.” He choked out.

“We’ll talk later, Az. Right now it’s just you and me. What do you need?”

I start to lift off of him giving him the space he needs to collect his thoughts but he grips my hips even more firmly.

“Stay?” He requests.

My smile doesn’t meet my eyes as the pain in his own cracks the armor over my heart. “Always.”

I loop my arms around his neck and he loosens his reign on my hips, instead wrapping his arms tightly around me and pulling me to his chest. I rest my head against the muscle there, soaking in the moment.

The kind of moment I now remember that I wished so desperately for centuries ago.

I won’t focus on the sting of the memories that have recently come back to me. We will have time to talk things through and I haven’t been able to discuss much without losing myself to trauma yet. I’d much rather soak in this moment than ruin it with my hyperventilating. I close my eyes and revel in his grip.

“My mate.” Azriel whispers. “I’m so grateful you’re here.”

I won’t let him see the way the words impact me. The hell that I went through to be here in this moment. The way that his hold leaves me entertaining the thought that it could possibly have been worth it all. The way that thought itself slices deep through me.

Stray tears fall over my bottom lashes onto his chest. If he feels them he doesn’t say anything. He knows I’m not in the right mindset yet and won’t press. Another reason that I’m so grateful for this male.

Instead I close my eyes and focus on the two other words he’d whispered. “My mate.”

I replay it over and over in my head until I drift off to sleep, my mate still buried inside me.

———————-

“The child is yours.”

“Impossible.” The cold voice replies, grating against the very marrow of my bones.

“You know very well that it’s possible.”

A discontented hiss crackles through the tension filling the space between the beautiful, cruel male and myself. His ethereal features the mirror opposite of his rotten insides. I wonder if death would have been kinder than this.

“I hardly imagine that a fetus could survive what I did, let alone the agony of being made into..” I swallow the lump of disgust in my throat, knowing better than to push him too far. “This.”

A cruel grin crosses his face, his freezing palm caressing my jaw, razor tipped nails break the skin of my cheek and I can smell the iron tang of the blood droplets forming beneath them. “and what exactly did you go through, my dear?”

I furrow my brow, trying to remember who and where I was before him. I know there was life before this but the memories are so blurred. I don’t know what’s real and what is fabricated. I remember waking knowing I was carrying a child but I remember nothing of the conditions leading to it, of whom had fathered it. It wasn’t the bastard before me, but if this child has any hope of survival, then I’ll have to play his game.

He only lets out a bone-chilling laugh, squeezing my cheeks tighter and pressing a kiss to my lips. His sharp fangs piercing my lower lip as he nips.

I resist the knee-jerk instinct to pull back.“Centuries here have been rather dull, I suppose I’m due for an heir at some point or another. It could liven things up in this space.” He gestures to the darkened cave, illuminated by fires and littered with ornate cob-web dusted trinkets he’s seemed to have collected over the years.

A knot forms in my stomach, clenching tightly. Let him believe the life I carry belongs to him, survive, it’s the only option. It’s the only way this child survives.

“Feed, dark one. You seem to be getting quite insolent in your current state.”

I hesitate as a small show of defiance before his voice gains a sharper edge.

“Feed.” He commands.

We feed and fuck for hours until he tires of me.

It feels good, physically, but it’s empty. Void of emotion. Much like me.

Warmth envelopes me and I drift away from that wretched cave, into starry skies twinkling in and out of dancing shadows.

——————————

I wake from my memory-infused dream state, opening my eyes to find Azriel’s wings draped around me. His muscled chest rising and falling in steady breaths against my back. At some point he must have removed me from his lap. I have no idea what time it is and I don’t care to find out.

I’m not in a cave. I’m safe and I imagine if a crevice formed between his wings I’d see his shadows dutifully cocooning us as well. I inhale the mist-chilled cedar scent of my mate, taking slow, steady breaths.

I am not in a cave with my captor.

I am safe.

I am home.

Tomorrow I will share what I can remember with him. I will tell him of my daughter. My eyelids grow heavy once more and I drift back to sleep.

No dreams plague me this time.

——————————————

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[beatingheart-bride]

Oblivious to the Paces' efforts within the safety of the house, Emily did a walk around her yard in order to locate the deadly intruder. Vampires were gifted with particularly adept night vision (an ability that came in handy when roaming the darkness of the late night and early morning), but even with such a gift, she couldn't find any sight of the mysterious woman in white who had caused her so much grief over a century ago.

That was until she was ambushed by a small bat that swooped at her from a nearby tree, a creature that morphed into a woman before her very eyes. With her long- white gown that looked as if it came from a different era, her long, cool-toned blonde hair that was tucked into an up-do, crimson lips (lips that Emily noticed were not stained by makeup, but by blood) and piercing icy-blue eyes, Emily immediately recognized hers and Randall's past assailant. She tensed up, her blood running ice cold upon being faced with the same woman who had haunted her nightmares for decades.

"You...I remember you," the woman sneered as she circled the wary Emily, almost like a hawk. "You're the pathetic little girl I turned all those years ago! When I left you and that little friend of yours, I thought you'd burn up in the sun!"

Silently, Emily continued to watch her assailant, waiting for the perfect moment to begin her defense.

"Who...who are you? What do you want with us? Haven't you already done enough?"

@beatingheart-bride

"Emily-!" Randall cried out, but before he could follow after her, bound and determined to stay by her side, his father reached out to stop him, saying gently, "Let her go, lad. Let her go."

"Wil?!" June hissed in bewilderment at her husband's actions, looking from him, to the departing Emily, then back to Wilhelm; as soon as their daughter-in-law-to-be had shut the heavy door behind her, she raised her voice, snapping, "What the hell do you think you're doing? You're really going to let her go out and face that monster by herself?!"

"No, Junie, no," Wilhelm assured her quickly, letting Randall go (at which his son immediately rushed to the window, his heart pounding in his chest as he searched for the two vampires, knowing he couldn't bear not to watch, no matter how agonizing it'd be); pressing a quick kiss to his wife's cheek, he moved to grab the chair he'd been eyeing. With one solid swing against the doorframe, the chair was smashed to pieces, leaving the legs scattered across the ground.

"We're not gonna let Emily face that bloodsucker all by herself," he said, pulling out his pocket knife as he picked up one of the legs, moving quickly to begin carving the end into a point. "But if we're gonna do this, we're gonna play it smart. We're gonna take that vamp by surprise, and with any luck, we'll give Emily a fighting chance to give her attacker a little payback."

Picking up quickly on his meaning, June and Randall moved to pick up the other legs.