#fei made some gifs

[the-judicial-assistants-notebook]

does anyone see what I mean by 'they look similar' yet or am i insane.

[tofufei]

我曾三度遭到背叛，因而懂得世间万物不过是欺瞒的幌子。// It took three betrayals for me to finally understand: the world is just an elaborate tapestry of lies.

[icanbeyourgenie]

— Evil is not born. It's made.

[likeafairytale]

#who are they talking about? Malachai or Aeron?

[readychilledwine]

hii!! i’m in love w your writing!!❤️❤️❤️ can i please request one where it’s azriel x reader. Feyre sees azriel wearing a ring on his left finger and asks,

” i’ve seen you wear that ring forever azriel, what does it mean? ”

” it’s my wedding ring ”

and her jaw drops bc she didn’t know he even had a lover.

” who is she? do i know her? what is she like? ”

he smiles faintly and says

” her name is y/n, she’s my mate and wife and she isn’t a warrior like us, she works at a library downtown. you don’t know her, only rhys and cassian do. we have a house in the outskirts in velaris. she is very sweet and i love her more than anything, our daughter is- ”

” YOU HAVE A DAUGHTER ????? ”

he nods and tells them all about her, he asks if feyre wants to meet reader and their daughter and feyre smiles and nods. He asks reader in the mating bond if it’s okay to bring her, nyx, rhys and cassian to dinner. reader says yes and azriel tells feyre he’ll pick them all up tonight before leaving to help his wife prepare. Reader meets feyre and become friends instantly, nyx and their daughter become friends aswell.

” how did i not know this?? this makes so much sense now. How he never sleeps here and he’s gone for days sometimes but not on missions. ” feyre asks rhysand.

”don’t worry i didn’t know for a long time either, Az is a very private person, he is extremely protective of his family. i’m glad he told me at all. either way he’s still a mystery sometimes, i learn new things about him all the time and i’ve known him for over 500 years” rhys says and laughs knowing your perfect for his brother 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️😭🥹😍

Haven

Warnings - none

A/n - I played with this for a while, rewrote it several times, and then made something that met in the middle of what came to mind, but still stuck with the request. Hopefully, you love it, dear 💜

Feyre had been in Velaris for 5 years. 5 long years and she had yet to figure out why Azriel kept a simple black band on his left ring finger at all times.

The two of them were on the couch, Rhys across from them, as they looked over maps of a few of the Illyrian Camps that had been recently renovated. The new cabins, mess halls, and dorms were a huge success, and figuring out the same layout for the remaining few was a huge topic of interest for the three smaller camps.

She glanced at the ring one more time before tapping it. Rhys and Azriel both looked at her, brows raised. "So, not magic," she muttered to herself. She tried spell cleaving it, "And not a ward or shield."

Azriel blinked at her, brows knit in silent question. Rhys had his hand over his mouth, hiding his amusement. Leave it to his wife to provide entertainment without knowing it was needed. "I-" she sighed. "You wear this ring all the time. I'm trying to figure out why."

Both of the males chuckled. "Probably the same reason you wear your wedding ring, Feyre Darling."

The High Lady made face, tapping the ring again. "Don't be ridiculous, Rhys. I would know if Azriel was married."

"Evidently not, my love."

Feyre and Azriel held eye contact, the male then going back to the maps. "Since I have extensive time in Steppes Peak, I think it would be easiest to move the mess hall here, at the base of the mountain, maintain the warroom in the carved out cave, and build better dorms here," he pointed to an empty part of the map.

Rhys nodded, drawing it out on the empty map he had. "I'm sure y/n will agree with whatever you say."

"Okay, stop." Feyre crossed her arms, pouting slightly at the two of them. "Azriel isn't married, and making up some name to make me feel stupid isn't kind."

Azriel sighed. He leaned back while dropping the scent ward he kept on himself at all times. He watched as her face fell. He knew his scent, chilled air and cedar, was the predominant one in the mateship, but now a soft floral scent, something like lavender and warm honey clung there softly.

"I've been married for longer than you have been alive, Fey." Azriel patted her hand. "I have a daughter older than you and another younger than Nyx."

He watched as her face fell, a small amount of hurt flashing across it. "Why didn't you tell me?" She paused, looking at the sleeping heir in his craddle. "We could be having play dates. I could have a friend who understands."

Guilt settled into his face as he pulled her into him. "I torture people for living, sweet sister. I execute people on your orders. I imprison people with a flick of your wrist." He tilted Feyre's head up. "Y/n has no combat training and refused to learn. She likes to sit at home writing poetry, baking, and cuddling our children. I do not bring her around or introduce them to anyone to keep them safe." His face held the ghost of a rare smile. "I think I've brought her to meet Rhys and Cassian once."

Rhys nodded. "I've met her once here and several times behind your back in town. Especially after my first niece was born."

Feyre kept her gaze on Nyx. "He could have a friend," her voice was distant.

Azriel stood, placing a kiss on her forehead as he did. "I'll be right back." Rhysand's smile grew wide. Folding the maps and putting them away. He moved to the liquor cabinet, bringing down one of his more expensive wines.

Azriel reappeared with you and both daughters in tow. Your oldest ran to Rhys, jumping on him and holding him tightly, her wings fluttering with joy as she did. "Hello, Amara," he nuzzled into her hair. "Missed you so much, baby girl. Cassian is on his way."

He walked with her in his arms to the table, setting the wine down and then carried her over to Feyre. "Would you like to meet your aunt?" She allowed Rhys to set her down and turned toward Feyre.

There was little question she was Azriel's. She was the beautiful artists dreamed of painting. Soft classic features framed with inky black hair that fell in gorgeous curls. "Feyre, this is our niece Amara. She's 56. She was my favorite suprise when I got home from the mountain."

She smiled shyly, keeping close to Rhysand. "Hi."

"Hi," Feyre didn't know what came over her, pulling the Illyrian female close to her and holding her. "I'm so excited to meet you."

Amara wrapped her arms around Feyre, returning the gesture. "Me too. Mom and I have been BEGGING dad for a while. But you know how the bats are."

The door slammed open, rushed loud footsteps and a panting filling the hall. "Where's my baby?!"

Amara pulled away from Feyre, smiling softly before moving away from all of them. She was rushed by Cassian, lifted up into his arms as he spun her.

Feyre looked to her side, noticing Azriel next to her, holding a swaddled bundle. "This is Iris. She's a month younger than Nyx." Azriel wouldn't look away from his daughter and her peaceful sleeping face. "I fear the day she loses her chipmunk cheeks."

Feyre looked around the room, trying to find the reason this was happening and felt her heart shift when she saw you, arm wrapped around Rhysand's bicep, looking at Nyx.

You were wingless, long dark hair braided back. Soft leggings and a sweater that was a few sizes too big covering your frame. Cassian had moved next to you, bumping you with his arm and smiling down at you. "He's so beautiful," your voice was a melody, a soft echo that brought calm to the room. "And so sweet. Look at those rosy cheeks."

Rhysand pulled you away, moving you back to Feyre. He handed you to Azriel, arms out expectedly. "Don't make me command it."

The shadowsinger placed his youngest in Rhysand's arms, hands shaking despite the trust between them, "Be careful with her. Please." Rhys nodded, moving over to Cassian. "Feyre, this is y/n, my wife and mat-"

Feyre didn't allow him to finish, hugging you instantly, tears lining her eyes as she did. "Please tell me we can be friends and cry about our babies together."

"I didn't realize that would even be a question. Of course we will be friends, and of course we will cry about all of the things. Our mates don't get it. Cassian, though, Cassian will join us."

The warlord stuck one finger in your direction. "Let me love them in peace, y/n."

You leaned into Feyre, "Has he cried while holding Nyx yet?"

She nodded. "Oh yeah. Big illyrian baby."

"The worst, aren't they? Rhysand, did you want me to make dinner?"

The High lord looked at Azriel, a small look of guilt on his face, "Please."

You squeezed Feyre's arm, kissing Azriel as you moved towards the kitchen. "You know where to find me if she needs me." He nodded.

Azriel moved to Cassian, watching like a hawk as the general snuggled the small babe in his arms. Amara was sitting by Nyx a look of love and adoration on her face as she sighed.

"She's perfect for Azriel in every way," Rhys stroked Feyre's hand. "I was nervous at first too when he brought her home. I was even more nervous when his fears manifested in the form of being deeply private with her. But she is perfect for him."

Feyre nodded, watching as Azriel glared as Cassian due to the loud squeak his baby had just let out.

"His girls are beautiful." Rhys hummed in agreement. "Y/n is beautiful."

Feyre moved to Amara's side, sitting next to her and smiling as her niece started asking questions.

She didn't realize it until now, but this was the missing piece. The part of the puzzle that had sat empty despite every thing around it being done. You and your girls were that lost center.

Now she just had to convince Azriel to keep bringing you around.

General tag list:

@hnyclover @glitterypirateduck @slytherinindisguise @mischiefmanagers

[bwabys-scenarios]

Can we see a chubby!reader who maybe doesn't know that Feitan is part of the phantom troupe, so she doesn't think Feitan can carry her but then he proves her wrong (maybe with a little bit of angst because she's self conscious, and then comfort because Feitan loves that there's more of her)

Idk if that made sense

Perfect

Feitan x Chubby!Fem!Reader

!!REBLOGS APPRECIATED!!

A/N: another short one… but I like it!! Join my server !!

warnings: insecure reader, a bit of internalized misogyny

SFW: @lightshowerrr @jungtoast @nenggie @aliceattheart @atransmuter

‼️If you want to be added to the taglist, please check out the taglist information then comment what you want to be added to! Make sure you have your age in your bio and that your blog can be tagged/mentioned!‼️

You had been dating Feitan for nearly a year now, and you still knew so little about him. His whereabouts while he was out of town were a mystery to you, and you had no idea what he did for work. All you did know was that he didn’t have a normal job.

When you jokingly asked him if he was in the mafia, he scoffed. “Mafia bunch of puss- wimps. Not part of it, not by long shot.”

You were a little perturbed by his answer, but couldn’t help laughing at the way he censored himself for your sake. He seemed to see you as some kind of delicate princess, closer to a porcelain doll than human. Feitan was always extremely gentle when touching you, his hands almost hesitant when making contact with your skin.

This was something you didn’t understand. Throughout your life, people viewed you as bigger, tougher, when in reality you were quite easily hurt, both physically and mentally. The topic of your weight had been a sore subject…

But your Fei wasn’t really good with reading social cues.

“Eat good. Here, for big girl.”

You stared at your boyfriend as he used his chopsticks to drop an extra egg roll on your plate. In your mind, you know he meant nothing by it. He was friends with larger people like Uvogin who ate tons to keep up his strength and figure.

But your heart felt hurt. You pushed your plate away and huffed. “Hmph.”

He was bad about assuming things, even if you knew it Feitan wasn’t being malicious, it still hurt your feelings when he assumed random things because of your body type.

But what you didn’t know, was that Feitan wasn’t assuming anything. You were his girlfriend, he had to provide for you and make sure you ate well. In meteor city, having meat on your bones usually meant you were well taken care of, and all he wanted to do was make sure you ate.

Feitan, though… he wasn’t good at communicating that. Or communicating at all, really, so he just stared as you pushed away the food. He scoffed, slightly offended that you turned down his offer.

“Why huff? Being brat.”

You sniffled, standing up and storming off. Feitan wouldn’t let this slide, he hated seeing you upset.

The dark haired man caught your wrist, squeezing with just enough force to catch your attention. “Why act like this? Made you mad?”

You pouted, puffing out your chubby cheeks. “Mmph… it’s embarrassing. You’re thin and I’m not… aren’t girls supposed to be dainty and small? Isn’t that what you would prefer, someone you could easily pick up?”

You wiped the tears from your eyes, not daring to look back at your lover.

But you didn’t have to look, because he turned you around and began lifting you with ease. Once you were in the air, he held onto your ass, squeezing softly. You squeaked and immediately wrapped your plump thighs around his waist for support, your cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“See? Easy. My little bunny.”

He held you in his arms, not straining or struggling in the slightest. It was like you weighed nothing at all to him and it was… relieving.

“Can’t understand? You… are mine.”

He huffed, sitting down with you in his lap, his arms wrapped around your waist. “We clear?”

You snuggled him, burying your teary face into his neck. “Yeah…”

Feitan tried to be a bit more sensitive with you after that, and made it a point to carry you around and show you off to his friends. It was a little embarrassing… but you felt loved and beautiful.

And that was all you needed.

[sarawritestories]

Unwavering Presence Chapter 3

Cassian X Archeron Sister (Reader)

Summary: Y/N looks forward to the next time her and Feyre go to the Night Court. Choosing to stay out of the way in the Spring she is visited by the High Lord and threats are made. Few months of learning how to read and Feyre finally warming up to the Night Court, the next time they return to the Spring Y/N is caught of guard and chaos ensues.

Content Warning: 18+ brief depictions of abuse, Tamlin being a dick, Ianthe appearance, unwanted groping (Not from any of our beloved night court folks or Spring court), blood, separation.

Word Count: 5.6k

chapter 2 Masterlist

A/N: I'm sorry if it seems to be a bit sped up but I simply could not bring myself to write more filler chapters! I hope you enjoy!

After my argument with Feyre, I locked myself in my room for the three weeks. Feyre had tried to come apologize and she tried to come in, but I had made sure my door was locked. I didn’t really move from my chair other than to change and sneaking into the kitchen late at night to eat. To avoid running the High Lord, Lucien or my sister.

There had been a continuous warmth on my tattooed wrist, Rhys’ reminder that I wasn’t alone. On the bad days where sleep evaded me, I tried to send back a wave of appreciation, unsure if he could feel it. Chances were he we were sleeping when I sent so he probably didn’t even know, but I did appreciate him.

Feyre and I have never had many fights and it was even rarer that the fight had resulted in us not talking and working it out. The last time was right before Tamlin took us away.

Feyre slammed her bow on the table. “You should have been here. What were you thinking going out there?”  I scoffed as I dropped the wolf carcass on the table, facing my twin whose eyes flared with anger and a hint of fear. “You could have died!”

The door creaked open, and I glanced to see Nesta and Elain emerge from the bedroom. Their eyes went wide taking a look at the beast on the table. Our dad remained near the fireplace not acknowledging that Feyre and I had returned. Not like he noticed when we left. “Feyre, you could have died to. I have just as much skill at hunting like you, we work better together, and it worked out look at what we caught.” I held out my arm to show the wolf. “I love you, and I didn’t want you going out alone tonight. I’m glad I was there to help you take this beast down.”

Feyre blew up, “I could have killed you! I didn’t know you were there!”

I gave her a doubtful look and cross my arms, “I have been able to sense your presence since we have been children, you definitely knew I was there.”

Feyre ran her fingers through her brown hair not caring if she got blood in it. “Maybe I wanted to be alone, figured Nesta would give you some good quality time. At least she doesn’t despise your presence.”

My mouth dropped and quickly recovered, “Are you fucking serious, Fey? What the fuck does that mean?”

“Girls,” Our father croaked from his spot in the fireplace, only then that I noticed he was carving something in his hands. “That’s quite enough. Y/N your mother and I have taught you better than to use that type of language.”

I rolled my eyes, “Whatever you say.” I grit out and was about to push past my sisters when the door flung off its hinges and a beast with emerald eyes locked his gaze with mine.

A knock caused me to jolt from my seat and the book I was attempting to read on the table next to the chair, “Go away,” I yelled trying to conceal the fact the knock on the door frightened me.

The sound of the lock turning, and the door opens causing me to jump out of my chair, to see Tamlin strolling in. He shut the door and made a spectacle of locking the door. His eyes met mine and his eyes held nothing but cold and controlled anger. “Long time no see, Y/N.” He drawled and I tried not to shiver as fear locked up my joints. He slowly approaches me with his hands clasped behind his back, “You’re breaking Feyre’s heart you know. Locking yourself in here.” The sun from the window hit him and in any other situation I would have found his beauty mesmerizing, but his beauty looked sinister.

I crossed my arms and Tamlin takes notice of my tattoo decorating my skin before its tucked away. Feigning indifference, tucking the fear deep down and lifting my chin. “What do you want, Tamlin?” Shifting my weight back and forth.

Tamlin closed the distance, and I took a step back, “You’re coming down and having dinner with us tonight.”

I rolled my eyes, and I could hear the growl in his chest, “No thanks, as you can see, I’m quite busy here.”

Tamlin bared his teeth, “That wasn’t a request,” he took another step toward me.

“I don’t care,” I muttered and made the error of trying to step around him and in a flash, he gripped me and pinned me against the wall his muscled his hand moved from my arm and moved to my hip his free hand clamping down over my mouth. His gaze turned feral and crazed, letting his anger unleash and I could only produce a whimper through his hand.

He brought his face closer to mine and I could see the pure ire in his eyes. “Listen to me carefully. You are going to clean up, put on a pretty dress, come downstairs and apologize to Feyre for causing her stress and pain. Then you are going to eat in silence you will be seen and not heard.” I tried to yank my head, but he has my face in an iron grip, and he gripped my hip in bruising force keeping me pinned to the wall, “Like the good little human girl you are.” He released my face.

I quickly spat in his face, “Fuck-“he clamped his hand back over my mouth and I lashed against him.

Tamlin tsked, “No, no, the only thing I wanted to hear from you at all is ‘Yes Tamlin.’ And an apology to my soon to be wife.” He gripped my hip so tightly I gasped, and a tear slipped down my cheek. Tamlin kissed it away, the gesture going against his words. He met my eyes again his grin anything but comforting, “Blink if you understand, Y/N,” my name almost a snarl against his lips. I slowly blink and more tears fall. He lowers his face to kiss my forehead and I thrash my hands trying to push him away, but I couldn’t move him. He pulled away and released my body giving my cheek a not so tender pat, “Good Girl. Now go clean up there will be a dress on your bed,” he turned and made his way to the exit.

I wrapped my arms around myself, and I noticed Tamlin paused, “Oh and Y/N,” He turned his hand still on the handle, “Make no mistake if you don’t come down, I will drag you to the dining hall and tie you to the chair. Feyre’s happiness is important to me I will do anything to keep a smile on her face.” With that he left, and I let the emotions of the interaction fully take over and slide down the wall and bury my face in my knees to stifle the uncontrollable sobs. I barely notice how warm and tingling my tattoo is through the tears.

Cassian’s POV

I sat in the lounge of the townhouse with Rhys, there was a throbbing in my chest that caused discomfort. I rubbed my chest, but the pain wouldn’t subside, it felt like my heart was aching. I creased my eyebrows sadness consumed me and I rubbed that spot tighter as I closed my eyes.

“Cass, you alright?” Rhys’ voice pulled me from the wave of emotion overtaking me.

“I just have this weird feeling; my chest feels tight.”

Rhys gave me his full attention, his glass of whiskey forgotten. “Do you need me to get Madja?”

I shook my head, “No, just feels like something is wrong.” Another wave overwhelmed me, I closed my eyes, and I took a deep breath to neutralize myself. When I opened my eyes, my brother had a painful expression on his face. He was gripping his glass tightly his knuckles were white. “What is it?” I asked.

Rhy formed his lips into a tight line, and he clenched his hands into a fist, “Something is wrong over there,” he gritted through his teeth as he rubbed his left arm, causing me straightened I didn’t need him to fill me in. “She is sending utter turmoil down the bond.”

I grimace, “What kind of male torments their partner like that. To cause that much dread.”

Rhys shook his head, his eyes meeting mine the stars winking out, “It’s not Feyre, Cass.” My grip on my own glass tightened, “It’s Y/N’s.” Rhys stood and downed the rest of his drink.

Rhys began to walk out, and I called out, “Where are you going?”

“It’s the beginning of the new month, brother.” Rhys turned and winked at me, and darkness consumed him as he winnowed out of town house.

Reader’s POV

After a bath and getting the tears to finally stop I walked into the bedroom, taking a look at my hip fortunately there was no bruising from Tamlin’s grip. A lilac dress was laid out for me. The gossamer fabric chaffed my skin. The skirts were heavy against my hips, the spot where Tamlin squeezed still tender, I closed my eyes and took a few deep breaths and my wrist tingled. I looked down and grazed my tattoo calm washing over me, “Thanks Rhys.” I whispered.

I walked over to the door and opened it to find Feyre on the other side biting her nail, a nervous habit she started when we were kids. Her eyes widened as she saw what I assumed is my puffy eyes from crying, and in turn I saw how her eyes looked bruised and I know she has still not been sleeping, “Hi.” She whispered.

I drifted my gaze to my feet, “Hi.” I looked back at her and look at her thin frame and her sunken cheeks and Tamlin’s words flooded my brain.

You’re breaking Feyre’s heart.

Guilt racks through me as I lightly pull her hand from her mouth, “Feyre, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to lash out at you.”

Feyre squeezed my hand, “No, I am sorry. I know that this transition has been hard on you. I should have been more considerate to your feelings.”

I gave her a small smile tears pooling in my eyes again, “Let’s just put it behind us,” I patted her hand with my trembling one.

If you don’t come down, I will drag you to the dining hall and tie you to the chair.

“Y/N, you look like you’ve seen a ghost, and you’re trembling like a leaf. Do you want to lie down I can tell Tamlin you’re not-“

“No!” I blurted, causing Feyre to step back stunned. I composed myself, smoothing my skirts willing my hands to stop shaking, “Let’s just go have dinner with our…friends.” Feyre beamed at me referring to Tamlin and Lucien as friends as I tried to keep the bile from creeping up. We made our way to the dining hall. The closer we got the more nervous I became even the comfort of the tattoo felt vacant. I was trying to keep my hands from shaking by keeping them clasped.

The doors opened as we approached and Lucien and Tamlin were standing in their seats, snarling at something and as we got deeper into the dining hall to find Rhysand his hand tucked into his pockets. Feyre stilled and I fought every instinct to run and hug him. “Fuck you, Rhysand, we are to have a nice dinner. You can’t just take them.”

“Per our agreement it doesn’t matter when I come pick them up in the month.” Rhys spoke with cool indifference. “But I am a reasonable male,” He turned to us, “Ladies, I’ll give you the choice you can enjoy the meal with the High Lord and his loyal pet,” Lucien scowled, “Or we can go right now.”

Feyre moved to her seat by Tamlin Rhys tracking her entire movement, “I would like to have a meal before being whisked away.”

Rhys pulled his gaze away from Feyre and met mine. For a moment, I looked at Tamlin and could see his lips move the message clear Sit down. I met his gaze to his and hoped he understood what I was trying to convey with my eyes as I began to move to the seat next to my sister.

Don’t leave, please don’t leave. Don’t go.

Rhysand meandered to a seat on the opposite end of the table as Tamlin growled the claws peeking from his knuckles, “They want to have dinner, you can come back when their done.”

Rhys pulled the chair and plopped in it kicking his feet up as if he owned the place. “Where’s your hospitality, High Lord? I think it’s best I stay and join you. I’m sure Feyre and Y/N wouldn’t mind.”

Feyre scowled and I just lowered my gaze, finding the skirts of my dress very interesting as I took a seat. “Fine.” Tamlin grumbled and food appeared on each plate filled with lavish meats and cheeses.

I looked at the table and Tamlin’s fierce gaze met mine, “Y/N, so wonderful for you to finally join us tonight, care to say anything to Feyre.”

“Tamlin, leave her be she already apologized to me.” Feyre scolded her hand gripping my thigh with a gentle squeeze.

Tamlin bristled and I shifted in my seat under his scrutinizing gaze, “Well I’m glad she apologized. Let’s try to have a meal together with everyone present moving forward.” I looked to Lucien who avoided eye contact with me...Coward.

Feyre gave a small smile, “Sounds great.”

I moved my food around with my fork, not having an appetite. I felt a prickle in the back of my mind. You need to eat. I tried to reign in the shock of Rhys’ voice in my head.  You BOTH do.

I looked at him, to see he was eating the food, but his eyes were locked on me and Feyre, I looked to my sister, and noticed she was doing the same thing. Looking at the High Lord of the Spring and his emissary, the two were engaged in their own conversation eating paying us no mind. I took a few bites of my food and out of the corner of my eye I saw Feyre following suit.

One the meal was finished Rhys stood and Feyre rising from hers, Tamlin reached to grab her hand and she casually moved her hand. I made a note to ask her about it when we’re alone. Feyre gave him a small weak smile, “We’ll see you in a week.”

A hand lightly gripped my shoulder, I looked up and met Rhys’ gaze, “Ready to go?”  I nodded and rose from my seat. His hand slid down my arm and gripped my hand. “Feyre Darling,” Her gaze met his as he held out hiss free hand for her to take. She approached him with less fury than the first time we went to the Night Court. When she places her hand in his we are consumed by the darkness, and we are back in Rhys’ home.  Feyre looked at me, “I’m going to go to bed. You are coming?”

Rhys gave Feyre a comforting grin, “She will be there in a moment. I need to talk to her real quick.” Feyre to my surprise give him a silent nod and her lips curve slightly upward and I swore that Rhys stopped breathing for a moment. “Good night, High Lord.” She said and turned and headed back to our shared room.

Rhys turned to me, and I averted my gaze to my hands that were interlaced.  “Y/N, look at me,” I refused and kept my gaze on my hands, look at me, please his voice echoed in your mind. I sighed and met his gaze, “What happened? I felt an unnerving turmoil earlier today through,” he grabbed my arm with the tattoo. “It was like you were screaming down the bond.”

I slipped my arm from his grasp, and he let me, “I don’t want to talk about it.” I murmured wrapping my arms around myself, “I doubt you would believe me anyway.”

Rhys scowled, “You don’t have to tell me what happened. You don’t have to talk to me. But don’t ever say that I wouldn’t believe you. The pain I felt today was real your pain was real.” Rhys’ face softened, “Just don’t bury this down and forget about it, it will eat you alive, okay?”

 I gave him a nod and he turned to leave probably to head to his own room, “He pinned me against a wall,” I blurted, and it caused him to still, he turned, and I could feel the tears building up as I placed my trembling fingers over my mouth, “He clamped my mouth so tight I thought he would break my jaw and he gripped my hip to keep me pinned to the wall.” I sobbed and Rhys in three strides made his way back and without saying anything else wrapped me in his arms and I let the sobs take over and buried my face in his shirt. A comforting hand placed on back of my head and he rubs my back in almost a brotherly way. “I tried to push him away and I couldn’t,” whether he could understand the words and tears just wouldn’t stop. “He told me I needed to remain silent except to apologize to Feyre for locking myself in my room. He said that he going to tie me to a chair and force me there.”

Rhys arms were the only thing keeping me upright, “It’s okay.” He whispered pressed his cheek atop of my head, as my sobs racked out of my body. “What can I do? Tell me what I can do to help you.”

There was a calm emotion that slowed down my sobs slowed, I take a deep breath, “Can you help me not feel as weak and powerless as I felt today? I never want to feel that way again.”

“Yes, you will never have to feel that way again.” He pushed away and looked at me, wiping tears from my cheeks. “I can train you.” I nodded in agreement as exhaustion began to take over my body. “It’s been a long day,” I gave him another nod, “Want to go to your room?” He gripped one of my hands, “I can take you there.”

I shook my head and his brows furrowed, “Can I go to the library?” He smiled and gave the top of my hand he held a kiss.

“Of course, you can, let me take you.” I gave him a small smile and sniffled as he led me to the library. The small journey was quiet, but the door opened, and the books came into view. “Tomorrow, we can start your reading lessons I’m hoping your sister will want to partake as well.” I turned to him, and he held hope in his eyes that Feyre would be willing. “We can start training whenever you want, Y/N. I’m sorry I couldn’t come sooner.”

He released my hand and began to walk away. I grabbed his hand again and he looked back at me, “I don’t know what I can say. What I can do to repay for your kindness.” And I wrapped my arms around his neck, “Thank you, Rhysand.”

He returned the embrace, “You don’t need to thank me.” He pulled away and cupped my cheek, “Have a good night, Y/N.” He places a chaste kiss to my forehead and heads deeper into the hall. I walked into the library and the fireplace lit and I welcomed the warmth as I sat on the large chair. Sinking into the cushion I laid my head back and in the comfort of the library my eyes shut, and sleep overtook me.

Cassian’s POV

She looked beautiful and peaceful on the library chair fast asleep. Rhys had casually let me know she would be there and before I went to bed after a long day in Windhaven, I stopped by to see if she might have needed anything and found her sound asleep. Rhys didn’t tell me what happened in Tamlin’s court, but he had mentioned that she was interested in training. The red around her nose and the smell of dried tears told me she had been crying and my mind only went to the worst-case scenario of what happened.

Leaning off the door I tucked my wings to not have them drag across the floor I approached, Y/N’s sleeping form, the way her neck was angled she would wake up in immense pain. I lightly scooped her in my arms trying my best not to wake her, she only stirred to move her head and leaned it against my chest and the sweet smell of Jasmine and lilacs flooded my nose. She smelled as beautiful as she was. I walked over to the couch that was placed right in between two bookshelves against the wall and lay her down making sure her head pressed against the pillow. The house placed a blanket in my arms and in no hesitation, I placed the blanket on her. She snuggled against the softness of the blanket and let out a content sigh.

I smiled and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, “Sleep well, Sweetheart.” And with that I left the library and went to my room.

Reader’s POV

The next morning, I woke up and found myself on the couch in the library, and there was a blanket over me. I remember falling asleep on the chair, but don’t remember moving. The scent of leather and Sandalwood lingered in the room and was a comforting embrace. Feyre opened the door her eyes frantic, “There you are! I was so worried!” She donned a peach dress that fitted her figure with sheer sleeves that had rhinestones on it. Her hair was pinned back to the side, and she looked beautiful even though the dress looked like it was wearing her.

I stretched and smiled at her, “Sorry, Fey, I fell asleep in here. I like it in here.”  I sat up and put the blanket to the side, “I’m hungry.”

Feyre nodded, “Well go change and we will go get breakfast.” I nodded and went to the bedroom to change into a purple top with sheer puffy sleeves that showed a little more cleavage with matching pants and put my hair in a simple braid and made my way to breakfast.

At breakfast Rhys broke the news to my sister that we would be learning to read, write and shield against Daemati fae, which he explained to me is how he was able to speak to me in my mind. That went as well as I anticipated but with some coercing, she joined me in the office to get our first lesson. “I don’t understand why you care about our education.” Feyre grumbled.

“Oh, are you saying having this ability wouldn’t have been useful under the mountain?” I stilled at his question and Feyre went pale and silent. “We don’t know what the future holds, its in my best interest to have you two, well versed and ready for anything.” 

He explained to us how to put up mental shields that we worked on, and we spent an hour writing the ridiculous phrases that made Feyre roll her eyes and mutter, “Insufferable,” causing me to chuckle. After an hour of Rhys scolding us for keeping our shields up and checking our work, he released us for the day. Feyre and I went back to the room and fell into a comfortable silence and that evening I went back to the library and grabbed a book to practice my reading.

The rest of the week was spent that way shielding, reading and writing and towards the end, Feyre was eating more and smiling more to Rhysand which I swore the High Lord soaked in her smiles like sun rays. When we returned to the Spring Court, we both spent some time together reading and despite my utter disgust I would join for meals to appease Tamlin and keep his temper at bay.

Months went by and fell into the same rhythm. Rhys threw in a few fighting lessons, but we started with balance and stretching. He said he would only show me the basics but when his General came home that I would start training with him for more intricate training. I wanted to ask Rhys what Cassian’s role was in his court or just even to learn more about him, but I refrained, I didn’t want to pry, and he never wanted to divulge in the members of his court.

I could tell after Rhysand dropped us off that both Feyre and I were feeling better and stronger as Feyre was begging Tamlin to go out and hunt and help the people in town and met with stonewall refusal. So, she would dive into reading with me, but her face was fuller, and light shone back into her eyes, the color in her hair was vibrant again. Turns out that verbal sparring with Rhys was doing something for her.

Dinner that night after Tamlin told Feyre he didn’t want her hunting, Tamlin was utterly sweet, to her and to me. I welcomed the change even if Ianthe had graced us with her presence and her saccharine grin making my skin crawl. It felt as though things were finally falling into place. I drank the wine that Ianthe had poured for me and when I went to my room, sleep overpowered me and I moved to my bed my head landing on the pillow as I slipped into unconsciousness not even realizing that I had left my door wide open.

I awoke with a start as the warm breeze caressed my bare skin, I sat upright my surroundings spinning but trees surrounded me, I was in the forest. Someone had put a sheer nightgown on me my hands were bound behind my back and female laughter caused my blood to chill. I turned my head to find Ianthe there. “Ianthe, help me please.”

She approached me and gone was any warmth in her features and cold viper took her place as she crouched to meet my eyes, “I’m under Tamlin’s orders. To take you far away from the manor”

I gritted my teeth, “Bullshit, he wouldn’t hurt my sister that way!” I sent panic down the bond in hopes that Rhys would be able to answer my call.

Ianthe stroked a finger down my cheeks moving to my neck and down to my clavicle, “Unless we tell her you ran away.”

Fear ran down my spine I masked it with indifference, “You think she would believe that I would abandon her like that.”

Ianthe traced her finger right above the swell of my breast and I jerked away from her, “Well we could also say that you were influenced by the Naga lured out by a lesser fae and with your fragile human body you couldn’t resist.” I bit my lip, and she smirked knowing she would believe that as she held a dagger and sliced quickly above my clavicle, and I hissed, refusing to scream. Though she sliced off one of the straps to my night gown. She placed a kiss to my cheek before she murmured, “I’d run if I were you. Won’t be long before the monsters that live in these woods smell your blood and come looking for you.” And with that she vanished.

I gritted through my teeth as I rose to my knees, ignoring the pain of twigs and rocks pressing into my knees as I rose to my bare feet and began to run. I wasn’t sure which way I was running and there was minimal moon light to help but I just kept running and sending my fear down the bond. Even opening my mind:

Rhys, help. Please help me!

There was no response, but I kept pushing, kept sending waves of fear down our tattoo and shouting my thoughts in hopes he would hear. It felt like hours I was in there before I tripped over a stump I didn’t see and fell hard on my back. My vision blurred as my head collided with something hard, but the silence was palpable in the forest. My breathing was labored, and I could feel the warmth trickle of blood running down my face. I knew my feet were cut up, but I still rose to my knees and willed myself to try and stand. Dizziness dropped me back to my knees and a sob raked out of me. “Rhysand, please.” I whispered.

A low chuckle echoed behind me, and I began to tremble. “What a delicious treat we have brother, a human girl” The sound of slithering made me want to vomit but I forced the bile down and kept my head down. The slithering halted and the images of the Naga Feyre had painted flooded my memory the serpent-like creatures with talons and vile creatures.

Another low sinister voice followed, “What a pretty little thing and tied up just like a present.”  A sharp finger moved my hair away to look at my bleeding wound. I looked up and met yellow eyes and a pink serpent tongue sticking out. The hand that moved my hair gripped the back of my neck and I whimpered as the Naga licked the trail of blood from my forehead. The free hand groping my exposed breast, the beast hummed in approval, “She is delicious.”  The Naga gripped my hair and I yelped in pain as he approached, bringing his mouth closer to mine but keeping my head in place so I couldn’t move.

Rhys, I think I’m going to die. If I do, it was an honor being your friend.

I could have sobbed when Rhys’ voice came into my head.

No one will be dying tonight.

There was a slash of metal and the howl of the Naga who was gripping me as he was yanked away a flash of blue propelling it back. The sound of wings booming above and a thud on the ground. I couldn’t see my savior’s face only that blue gems blazed in the night as he approached the creature that put its hands on me with a blade in his hand.

The creature’s brother tried to slither its tail around my waist only to be met with steel cutting in clean off. A blast of red power forced the beast back against the tree. The Naga was about to approach again ready for a fight when a dagger flew and landed right in between its eyes, and it slumped back against the trees. The clouds parted and moonlight was able to help me see but a hand grabbed my shoulder and a jerked out of the grip turning slightly to meet familiar hazel eyes. His eyes held fear and he held his hands out palms open, “Y/N, do you remember me?” He whispered.

I nodded, “Cassian,” I whispered my voice hoarse and dry.

Cassian gave me a warm smile, “Good, Can I untie you?” I nodded again and he took another dagger and made his way behind me to cut my ties as the other winged male approached. My hands were free, and Cass took my hands in his and began to massage my wrists to bring the circulation back into my hands. “Is this, okay?” he asked, ignoring his friend who had just approached. I nodded again words not forming.

The other male knelt and gave me a small smile, his eyes a similar hazel to Cassian’s but just like Rhys and Cassian he was utterly beautiful, “I have heard a lot about you, Archeron.” His voice was pure honey, “I’m Azriel.”

I give him a small wave. Cassian released my hand and slid off his jacket sliding it over my shoulders to cover me. I slide my arms into the sleeves. “We have to get going before more come.” Cassian whispered to me, “Will you let me carry you?”

I nod but force myself to say, “Don’t bring me back to the Spring Court.” I whisper as my eyes met his and pain flashes in those eyes. “Please.”

“You are not going back there, Sweetheart. We’re taking you home.” Cassian scoops me up and holds me close to his chest, where the scent of sandalwood and leather fills my nose and my eyes widened, was he there that day in the library? Did he move me over to the couch? My thoughts whirled but the dizziness caused me to lay my head on his chest. “You alright?” He murmured the words thrumming from his chest causing warmth to spread through my body.

“I hit my head, and a little dizzy but I’ll be alright.” Azriel rose nodding to his friend and gripped Cassian’s arm as darkness consumed us until we emerged into a house I had never seen before.

Rhys was in the hall his eyes frantic, “Mother above, Is she alright? Where's Feyre?”

Tears welled up at my conversation with Ianthe bubbled to the surface of never seeing Feyre again, “I'm alright” I croaked, “They’re going to make her think I’m dead.” I whisper and tear slips from my face. Cassian’s grip tightens on me his thumb rubbing circles on my back, and I wrap my arms around his neck and bury my face letting his scent soothe me.

"Who is?" Cassian asked.

"Tamlin and Ianthe." I whimper as pain erupts from my head. I pressed on, "They are going to tell her I abandoned her."

Rhys sounded as though he was clenching his teeth, “Cassian go take her to one of the rooms upstairs and have Madja come take a look at her.” I could hear his footsteps and a hand was on my arm giving it a comforting squeeze, “I’ll check on her in the morning.”

You didn't abandon her and when she sees you again she will know that Rhys' words in my mind brought me comfort as I heard his steps walk away with what I assume was Azriel's not far behind.

With that Cassian took me up the stairs and into the room I took a look around there were two twin sized beds and he laid me down on the one farthest from the window, He looked at the wound on my head, "I'm going to go get our healer, I'll be right back." He got up and I on instinct grabbed for his hand, hissing at my fast movement.

"Stay. Please don't leave me." I whispered.

He bit his lip and he nodded he looked off into the distance for a long moment and then he grabbed the chair from the small desk and brought it by my bedside. "Rhys, is calling for our healer." He sat letting his wings dip slightly as he grips my hand again and rubs the top of my hand. The soothing motion lulling me into a dreamless sleep.

Chapter 4

Story Tags: @hellodarling1357 @hnyclover @waytoomanyteenagefeels @amara-moonlight @impossibelle @esposadomd @sleepylunarwolf @stressed-reader @kylaisra @marvelouslovely-barnes @magicstrengthandcourage @spideytingley @awkardnerd @donttellthecats @Tastydewdrops @vermillionwinter @asweetblueberry2 @bunnyredgirl @homeslices @azriels-mate2 @oksloan3 @wallacewillow0773638 @fandom-crashlanding @writingstreetspirit @hannzoaks @minnieoo

[awkwardosthe3rd]

I love that animation of the tiger and fox ocs that you have for DnD! What are the two characters names? I wanna learn everything I can about them omg :0

Awe, thank you kindly!! ;; I will do my best to answer, pardon if any of this is confusing, I am a bit sleepy- /// Big ramble ahead, for I cherish this opportunity The tiger is actually not one, but based on a fishing cat, though I can see how the very broad face can be a bit confusing! Otherwise I have also drawn the fox with an actual tiger fella, but he is not the one featured in the animation. <:

The cat, lovingly going by the name of Vodnik, belongs to my friend, as far as I understand (given his backstory is partly kept secret from me) he is a retired pirate, now fisher, whose a bit grumpy toward the world and wizards (Because they are elitist?). Additionally big ol' communist, tho the pirate part may have already suggested that.

Adding this lovely height chart done by @rema-rin to show the characters, with her wizard being the lanky blue nerd to the right.

The fox, named Mishka, is my lil thief, accursed fey of sorts who eats shiny things, because she has some form of pocket dimension in her gullet. The DM very charitably granted me this infinite vault, knowing that my character would never let go of a single object that goes into it, so at this point they could have a dragons treasure in there and still refuse to spare a single copper coin. If its shiny, it goes down the hatch.

The two met up in the wilderness, because she wanted to eat the scales off of the fish that Vodnik caught. Because Mishka is so short, she was originally mistaken as a lost child, but no, she is just an adult discount fey in her late 20s that will crawl on all fours and chew on toxic metals with no second thought behind it, because her brain is made for consumption, not for the laws of nature. Vodnik remains as grumpy as ever, but has seemingly grown somewhat empathetic toward Mishka, supporting her little "fill the void with tiny shiny things" without quite knowing the full extent of it. He's been a big Mishka apologist. She would eat the stars if nobody stopped her, she got huge klepto itches for anything reflective enough to catch her attention.

And for reference, the animation in question for those who looked thru this and were wondering:

[myromanempiree]

enchanting ; act one

(Previously titled; dreamers with no stars.)

Pairing; Eris x Archeron!Reader

Warnings: angst if you squint.

Summary: Your sister invites you to a ball, you meet an enchanting man.

"With all I've loved,

I loved alone"

-Edgar Allan Poe

....

To be isolated is to walk down the mahogany stairs of the House, trailing curious fingers down the barely textured, cream-colored walls. To hear the third step squeak when you place your weight on it, just on the left side. To walk down the endless hallways, filled with family portraits that seem to mock her existence with the words whispered in the back of her mind,  "you are lost, yet no one cares to find you.” To walk into the warm light of the kitchen to find everyone gathered around the breakfast table for some Saturday tradition.

Forgotten as Feyre and Rhysand dote over the bump that grows larger and larger with each day, forgotten as Nesta and Elain quietly converse, still adjusting to the crowd of fey, yet comfortable in their presence. Forgotten as Azriel makes an off handed comment that rials Cassian up, Mor grinning against the rim of her glass.

To be isolated is to walk to the counter to grab something to eat, only Amren sparing her a single glance, paired with a barely-there nod.

She slowly piles food onto her plate, before finding those same portrait filled hallways, the same cream-colored walls, the same mahogany steps, a new day, yet the same routine.

….

Hours pass as she searches the library, keen eyes scanning the leather bound books looking for a specific title that one of the priestesses had recommended. She pulls a book down with nimble fingers, before adding it to the pile of books for the week. 

She absent mindedly sorts through the books, eyes darting from the stack of books to the list she had made a few days ago. Her mind was much too focused on the titles to hear the soft shutting of the large doors, and the rustling behind her. It takes the woman behind her a few tries to pull her out of her focus, Feyre's voice growing louder as she repeats her name several times, before tapping on her shoulder.

“Yes?” She said, head slowly turning to glance at her sister. Feyre hums, circling the chaise and sitting down beside her. “I wanted to speak to you about something.” Feyre began, opening her mouth to speak before being interrupted by the woman next to her. 

“Is it about breakfast? I don't usually go anyways–” “No, no… its not about breakfast, I wanted to ask you to join us, Rhysand is hosting an event in Hewn City and… Don't make that face, Sea Lion.” Feyre said at the obvious distaste in her sister's face. 

Ah, yes… that nickname. Born from Nesta's teasing over a decade ago, due to her brief curiosity of the creatures after hearing of one from her fathers business partner, it was mocking at first, but morso a pet name as they grew older. Something she had never understood was how her sisters could use something that was originally thought of as mocking, as an endearment. 

She was pulled from her thoughts yet again as Feyre sighed, gently reaching out for her sisters hand. “It is very important to me that you go, I would like all my sisters to be there.” At her sisters silence, she nods.

“Please, think about it.” 

Please was not a word any of her sisters used often, other than Elain, of course. Feyre must really want this, so she sighed, “I suppose  Ill attend.” She said softly, turning to her sister and nodding, looking into her eyes for the first time today.. Feyre thanking her hand skittering off, probably to tell Rhysand.

“Smile. You look like you don't want to be here.” Nesta said, looking amused as she sips from her glass. 

“I don't.” She responds, her sister sighing. “Neither do I, and I much less want to have to seduce that.” Nesta said, gesturing to a man in the crowd, speaking with Mor's father, Kier or something. The man turning to look behind him towards the dias, letting her see a proper peek at his face.

Oh, Mother.

There stood the most gorgeous man she had ever seen, cropped copper hair, high cheekbones that added an air of regality to him without making the man look haughty. Plump  lips pulled into the most self assured grin, showing his perfect teeth, keen whisky eyes examining the room in a manner that bordered on predatory.

 The moment those dazzling eyes met hers, she looked down to her glass, cheeks pinked. Unable to see his eyes widen ever-so-slightly, unable to see the urgency in which he looked away. 

She silently excused herself, moving to the clear balcony to catch her breath, not knowing whatever the feeling she held in her heart was. The thought slightly scaring her. 

She stays on that balcony for a long while, only parting with it when the still-new sensation of a presence in her mind. And Rhysand’s voice echos words into her mind. “Come to the dais”

….

She walked to the dias, her midnight blue velvet gown ever so slightly brushing against the floor as she steps into the spare spot in between Nesta and Elain, assuming that to be her designated spot. She stands there for a while, watching silently as the beautiful man walks up the stairs, conversing with the High Lord and Lady. 

What was said not registering as she gazes at the man. Something about him felt familiar, though she was sure she'd never met him. She only began to pay attention as he walked their direction, Nesta adjusting her posture to appear more sensual. 

She assumed this to be the part where Nesta seduced the man, which felt wrong to her, for whatever reason. However, he does not stop at Nesta, he moved past her to stand in front of herself. He stepped a stair below his current stature and bow, taking her hand to his lips and brushing them against her hand. 

The sensation setting a fluttering feeling off in her stomach. “What is your name, Lady Archeron?” The man asked her, tilting his head. As she introduced herself, and he introduced himself, she was led to the dance floor by the man– Eris. 

Eris. 

Her eyes find a mole on the side of his face, right below his right  eye, gaze trained on it as they begin their waltz. She claws at her brain to find the steps, yet cannot remember. Eris gently moves his hand to the small of her back, bringing here closer to him and leaning his face  against her neck as he whispers softly.

 “Follow my lead.”

It felt natural to do so. Even though Eris kept attempting to strike up a conversation, she was too focused on trying to not step on his toes and bring them to the ground to converse. The waltz came to an end, and she bows, her hands shaking. 

The walk back to the dais was as silent as the rest of their interaction. She felt guilty for not being able to seduce the man, but regardless, was glad she was even able to waltz without falling and crashing into something or someone. 

She moved swiftly up to her sisters as shocking words ring in her ears. 

“I will offer you support, in exchange for her hand.”

a/n - I read this back and she's kinda autistic-coded, so I hope everyone is okay with that :)

Taglist;

@babypeapoddd @mybestfriendmademe @lilah-asteria @impossibelle @thestartitaness

comment if you want to join taglist!

[watchtowerindistress]

the empath and the eldritch horror (1/5) - ben hargreeves x empath!reader

Summary: Number 8 challenged him. Ben just needed to decide if he liked it or not. Nope, definitely hated it. There was no way in hell he actually liked the little Empath.

Word count: 3.1k

Series masterlist

Warnings: sparrow!ben is a warning in itself, language, violence, mental abuse (y'know Reginald's usual schtick)

Author’s note: I'm merely writing moments in the lives of these characters, since I don't know all the quotes. So the chapters are going to feel like snippets/best moments. I made this series shorter than I expected, but I'm cramming everything together as I wanted. (Set in S3)

I didn't feel like doing a lot of world-building, to be honest. I'm aware this isn't my best work, sorry, my depression makes me tired. I just realized when I wrote that dojo scene that I liked Sparrow!Ben so much because he reminded me of an older version of Damian Wayne. 😅 Please be gentle 🤗 I've never written for this fandom before. You want to be tagged or untagged, let me know. As always, comments and reblogs are very much appreciated.

“Where the hell is my brother?”

Your determined voice carried to the departing backs of Ben and Fei. Even walking through those corridors in this strange timeline felt utterly surreal. Not to mention, profoundly strange seeing this older version of Ben. After remembering the pictures of when he was still alive.

So, you could only compare this version with the stories Klaus loved to tell. A funny mess. And most of the time a little shit.

Judging by the sarcastic look Ben threw over his shoulder before he fully turned his body, this version of Ben certainly was willing to stir some trouble.

Ben smirked. Fei copied his arrogant demeanor next to him, silently watching this exchange.

“Relax, we just want to have a little chat, and then we’re done with you two.”

Just hearing him talk so unceremoniously about your lives like that simmered something inside you. Like the two of you didn’t matter in the grand scheme of things. Like Luther and you were barely a blip on their radar.

Your face contorted with anger. To infuriate him just a tad, with the way he infuriated you with his callous words, your body barely leaned forward.

“We’re not things you can just dispose of once we served our purpose.”

Ben tilted his head. There was something fascinating about rendering someone like him speechless for a moment. You weren’t foolish enough to think you were getting to him. Your fingertips twirled behind your back to get a grasp on Ben’s emotions, only to sense something akin to a daze tingling under the surface. Not trusting your own empathetic powers what you detected was real.

Barely turning his head, Ben spoke to Fei with a certain voice. “I can handle this one.”

Fei smirked to herself before murmuring, “I’m sure you do,” and leaving Ben on his own.

He laced his fingers behind his back while playfully dancing on the back of his feet. Ben pursed his lips. “Something I can help you with?”

“How about being the responsible one by having a real conversation instead of using people for your benefit by literally abducting them, huh?”

Ben nodded repetitively, like he couldn’t care less about anyone’s feelings. “Right.” He narrowed his eyes in thought. “What’s the name of the big guy again?”

You conjured a patient smile. “Luther. You know, your brother from another timeline?”

Ben crossed his arms, revealing a crooked smile. “As everyone keeps telling me. I wouldn’t call it an abduction,” he exhaled tiredly, shrugging slightly.

“Are we allowed to leave?”

Ben pursed his lips. “I think he’s starting to like it here. And, you know, you seem seconds away from falling for our charms. We do have things to offer that your precious Umbrellas can only dream of.”

Mocking laughter erupted from your chest before Ben joined in. “Right. Wow, someone’s really sold on themselves.”

“I mean, calling it an abduction? Sounds kinda judgmental, don’t you think?”

You clenched your jaw. Remembering Luther’s emotions brought you back to the park, like they were your own. “I felt his desperation ahead of me,” you replied, deciding to remind him.

At the mention, Ben pointed at you, remembering. “So, you’re the emotional one, huh? What’s your number again?”

“I’m not just a number, Hargreeves.” You placed your hands on your hips. “Not surprised that you would deem something like empathy barely a power. I’d like to see you handle an anxiety attack when I’m done with you.”

Ben waved his arms at his sides. His aura was literally shimmering with excitement as he smirked widely. “Oh, don’t threaten me with a good time.”

You rolled your eyes. It seemed like this version of Ben felt drawn to any sort of mischief, the more the better. “And I thought Klaus was the crazy one,” you muttered under your breath. With a normal voice, you inquired, “Where’s Luther?”

“Probably in the kitchen still miserably failing at charming the pants off Sloane.”

A sigh left you when you mutely walked away towards the direction of Fei’s departure. Truth be told, only to get away from Ben faster.

You had already walked away with brisk steps when Ben’s arrogant sing-song voice made you regret all your life choices. “Other way.”

You instantly turned, while grumbling under your breath, “Fucking smart-ass.” You didn’t need to spare him a glance to feel Ben’s arrogant joy coming off of him in waves when he leaned back against the wall, crossing his arms in delight.

“You know where to find me if you want to work on those powers of yours, … Number Eight.” Ben chuckled with mirth.

Self-loathing rippled through you just a tad for not letting your power detect Luther’s aura through the mansion to avoid this embarrassing situation altogether. And you blamed yourself for underestimating him. For thinking Ben wouldn’t have interrogated Luther about you.

“So, this is what you guys are doing in your free time, huh?”

Ben’s eyes remained closed when he performed his tai chi movements in the dojo, not letting himself appear to be ruffled by your presence.

“This tells me everything I need to know about your squadron of Umbrellas. How does it feel wasting your day away, not improving?”

You remained unfazed by his choice of insults. In the end, you were used to Reginald’s mental abuse. Your eyes followed his movements, content with watching his little ritual while leaning with your shoulder against the pillar.

“Depends. What’s it feel like when you’re not being a mascot for a Hargreeves empire?”

Ben scoffed in derision. “You think you can distract me?”

Grateful for his answer, you smiled in pure delight before sitting cross-legged on the middle of the training mat. “Oh, I know I am. Besides, I wanted to take you up on that offer which was made by a helpful Ben.”

He scoffed, shaking his head. “Don’t ever call me that. You’re delusional for thinking I want to help you.”

You dramatically pressed your hand to your chest. “‘Oh, Y/N, I just can’t live with myself if something happened to you. I’ll do whatever it takes to keep you safe, even if that means helping you advance your powers.’”

Forced laughter erupted from Ben’s chest. “Har har, and I thought Sundance was the hilarious one.”

“Klaus.” You reminded him diligently.

Ben rolled his eyes. “Whatever, Empath.”

You were strangely getting used to this Ben and felt truly like you were having a grand ol' time with him. Even if that meant ruffling his feathers. “You want to know what I think?”

“No,” Ben muttered with a gruff voice.

You continued as if you hadn’t heard him, “Someone’s really pretending that they don’t care about anyone or anything. Or, second theory-”

“I’m on the edge of my seat,” Ben interrupted you wryly.

“Maybe you don’t mind a distraction to take your mind off things.”

This time around, Ben turned to face you before he knelt down. Leaning over you until you could feel his warm breath on your skin. “You think you’re so smart, don’t you?”

“I’m the emotional one, remember?” You whispered before you pursed your lips when a thought hit you. “Not to mention, I can feel your curiosity, with a smidge of you itching for a fight.”

Ben snorted. “You’re adorable for thinking you can take me in a fight-”

An angelic smile tugged at your mouth. Your fingers brushed against his bare chest which was revealed underneath the dark robe. Your fingertips tingled before you let your power come to the surface.

The golden shimmer enshrouded Ben’s chest, pulling him backwards. No matter how many times you had done it before, your hands cautiously studied his aura once you heard his heavy breathing.

You still whispered soothingly, “That’s the sensation you get for being close to fainting. That feeling of vertigo tormenting your body and like your head can’t get enough air.”

The caring side of you stroked Ben’s feverish forehead until the dizzying spell lessened and was finally relieved.

You swallowed once you met Ben’s darkened gaze. He stared at you with glittering eyes, like he was truly seeing you for the first time. Ben licked his lips. “I think … I might have some use for you after all.”

“You may not know this, but my power doesn’t work like a medium,” you said, nervously rubbing your thighs to stimulate your senses.

Ben sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose. The Sparrow had changed back into a shirt after the impromptu training session. He leaned forward and warned through clenched teeth. “Do you want to be of help, or not? Get this done, and you and your brother can go back to whatever shithole you stay at.”

“Not with this type of energy in the room.” You widened your eyes at Ben’s glowering ones to make your point. Before long you sat down on Marcus’ bed, with a bored Fei leaning against the door jamb.

Ben’s sister twiddled her manicured fingernails. “Is this a waste of time?”

He clenched his jaw, facing her. “No, it’s not. I know what she can do.”

“Aww, Benny-boo, you believe in me. That’s so cute. Who knew you had a heart?”

Fei smirked, tilting her head. “Not me.”

“You guys are hilarious. Are we done with the ‘band together against Ben today’? I’m doing whatever it takes to locate Marcus here and you two are not helping with the situation.”

You pressed your lips together at Ben’s all too serious demeanor. “Just trying to lighten the mood since your tense atmosphere isn’t helping with the task at hand.”

Ben shared a close-lipped smile, caging your body in on the bed. Despite his threatening air, you remained steadfast and didn’t move an inch.

“Do you mind just doing the thing before I lose my mind and let my tentacles do the talking?”

You narrowed your eyes. Ben needed to work on his lacking social skills, if his only resort were threats. “Say please?”

You could breathe easier again when Ben straightened his body and crossed his arms. “Keep dreaming.”

You exhaled heavily. Half the time he was fun to talk to and other times, he wore you out. “Just give me something of his that holds emotional value,” you mentioned, patiently waiting. The awkward silence confused you to no end. Ben and Fei exchanged glances among each other.

“Why is nothing happening?”

Ben turned to Fei. “Get Sloane.”

His sister tilted her head, challenging him. “Oh, I can just summon my crows.”

The muscles on Ben’s arms tensed before his jaw clenched with his next words. “Fei, take a walk.”

Her shoulder shook with mirth when Fei left with relaxed steps.

Ben’s sarcastic voice pulled you back to him. “I’m guessing giving you one of his leather jackets wouldn’t count, right?”

Your elbows supported you when you settled back. “Wouldn’t get the desired effect. So, let me guess, you guys are just numbers and soldiers?”

Ben shrugged, leaning his hip against the cabinet. “Gets the job done.”

“And you’re content with that?”

“It’s the only thing that matters.”

You didn’t believe him for a second. Or at least, you couldn’t imagine someone being satisfied with being so shallow. “Right. Because being associated to a number is all that matters.”

Ben smirked crookedly. “Oh, there’s nothing better.”

“Right, Number Two,” you added, trying to get to him.

“You trying to flirt with me, Eight?”

You rolled your eyes, retorting, “You wish.”

Ben chuckled, pondering to himself. “Who’d have thought? Maybe I prefer calling you Empath more than Eight. It’s pretty close though.”

You shook your head, feeling your cheeks blush at being more intertwined with that status of Empath than a generic number. “You’re weird.”

The mood of his aura changed to something unfamiliar. At least to someone like Ben. He cleared his throat. “So,…”

“So…?” You teasingly copied him, putting the side of your head against your shoulder, watching his reaction.

Ben crossed his arms. “What was he like?”

“Our Ben? Why do you want to know?” To you, it seemed strange for someone like him to inquire about his alternate version.

He eyed something outside the window. “Just curious, I guess,” Ben said, still not looking at you.

“Why don’t you ask Klaus or the others? I only met Ben after he was dead.”

“Wait, what?” That finally got a reaction out of Ben when he rapidly turned his head to stare at you with a peculiar gaze.

You sighed, remembering the circumstances of you meeting your siblings for the first time. “Reginald called me ‘the replacement’.”

Maybe this was ultimately his plan to ostracize you from the others by using that term. At least, you had Diego and Luther at your side. Klaus soon joined that tight-knit little circle once you confided in feeling that sensation of an unfamiliar aura wandering the halls of the manor.

Sometimes it still hurt how everything progressed. Your siblings emanating their grief onto you didn’t bother you. It was their apathy, that they didn’t care about you.

“I was taken in after Ben’s death. I could only feel his aura around after he was dead. I can sense who someone is in a way. Feel what kind of a person they are. Ben was always…” You pondered deeply how to describe someone like him. How to condense someone’s life and traits into the essence of someone.

“Kind, intelligent, mostly mischievous.” You smiled fondly, whispering quietly, “I could never replace him even if I tried.”

You didn’t know what it was about your gaze that made the Sparrow avoid it again. With the shaking of your head, you dispelled your thoughts. The new aura close by tickling your fingertips was a fitting distraction.

You glanced towards the open door. “Hey, Sloane.”

Seconds later, said woman poked her head into the room, smiling with a delighted air. “Neat party trick.”

An expectant Ben raised his eyebrows, interrupting any further carefree moments. “Sloane, Marcus’ favorite stuff he liked to touch?”

You felt inclined to add something else before more inquiries could arise. “In other words, yes. Or something that mattered to him.”

“There should be a book in his nightstand.”

That was the only mention Ben needed before he opened the drawer. Ben shook his head with a scoff, inspecting the worn edition. He showed his sisters the found evidence. “Are you kidding me? The Velveteen Rabbit?”

Sloane waved her open palms soothingly. “Remember we just want Marcus back.”

“What a nerd,” he grumbled, carelessly giving you the book.

“Says you? It’s a timeless classic,” you admonished Ben lightly before reaching for the hardcover edition.

Ben smirked. “I rest my case.” He furrowed his brows when a second thought hit him. “And what did you just say to me?”

You chose to ignore Ben’s little angry outburst when Sloane sat next to you on the bed. “Will it be enough for you to build a psychic connection?”

You closed your eyes, trying to hone in on the source. With your fingertips brushing along the spine of the book, your search for the truth was soon answered with the first memory remnants hitting you. Shivers coursed through your body at the sensation of Marcus’ memories filling your mind like they were your own.

There was an abundance of wishful thinking contained into the book, the craving of a different reality when Marcus’ birth mother granted him this first and last gift.

“It should suffice,” you said assuredly. With a calming sigh, you leaned your head back against the pillows. The book was held tightly in your grip.

“Yeah, sure. Have a nap, why don’t you? Something else you need? Maybe some soothing music, a face mask?”

Your eyes remained closed when you murmured, “Ben Hargreeves.” To get the message across, you made a quiet coyote signal. Hoping it would calm his frayed nerves.

A ripple of Ben’s undignified frustration wafted through the air. His only answer was a harrumphing noise.

You stirred your head, biting your lip in confusion. “I can feel a strong enough remnant, but I should be able to sense his location.”

“What are you saying?” Ben inquired tightly.

You chose your next words carefully. “I’m saying, … I can’t feel Marcus.”

“What does this mean?” Fei’s strained voice shared Ben’s sentiment. “Are you saying he’s dead? Abducted?”

At last, you opened your eyes. The perplexity of this unsolved mystery still plaguing your mind even after. It was more than nerve-wracking. “I’m saying that I should be able to find him, but I can’t. It’s like he just … vanished.”

The air crackled with hostility. Anxiously, you swallowed, staring straightforward. You jumped back when Ben’s wrath reached you.

Holding you down with his tentacles, with one of them slinging around your throat. Tightly but menacingly enough to spell out his primal urges. Ben’s body draped over yours. Fury blazed in his darkened eyes. “Now, Umbrella, I’m done with your little mind games.”

Sloane stood behind Ben’s shoulder, raising her voice. “Ben, let go.”

“Not until I find out what her family has done to him.”

With a hoarse voice, you implored darkly, “Listen to your sister before your Cthulu tentacles get the memo about me too.” As a warning, you gripped the surprisingly smooth appendage around your throat.

You cursed your curious mind for even harboring the thought of wanting to know how the tentacle’s skin would feel like.

Ben’s smile grew tighter, the more his eldritch monster’s hold intensified. “Try me, Eight.”

Summoning empathetic energy from within to converse it as a kinetic shield, you blasted him against the cabinet and leaving small splinters of wood on the carpet.

With a grunting noise, Ben’s tentacles drew back into his body. “Alright,” he murmured reluctantly. Ben dragged his body upwards until he was leaning against the furniture for support. He offered a blood-stained smile in reverence before he wiped off the crimson evidence from his lips. “Little minx.”

A dull thud resounded when you dropped the book on the duvet. You stood up and with a quiet voice you told Ben in no uncertain terms, “Don’t ever threaten me again.”

Remembering the company of Ben’s sisters and the result of your outburst, you awkwardly glanced at them before your feet led you towards the open door.

Wordlessly, Fei turned her body to make room. Her gaze roamed over your body with fondness after your display of power. As soon as you left the room, her dry voice remarked, “I’d consider this a success.”

Tagging: @cherryinsalemverse @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @ravenmoore14 @blackmagicwoman @lelaamela

[shepherds-of-haven]

Happy New Year, everyone! I thought it would be fun to do a little retrospective on the game's progress over the last year... Shepherds of Haven has grown so much from the little demo I posted in January 2018, and it continues to steadily build and flourish in so many different and exciting ways! Here's a look at just some of the things we accomplished in 2023!

I added 143,151 words to the game (2.5 main chapters, 8 new character interludes) in 2023: the equivalent of writing the longest Lord of the Rings book in one year! We also broke our huge 1 million word milestone—without including code—meaning Shepherds of Haven is now officially twice as long as War and Peace, and almost as long as the entire 7-book Harry Potter series... and all in a single game!

A lot goes into game creation behind the scenes, including the coordination and creation of visual assets for the game—like character cards, codex entries, maps, portraits, and backgrounds—fun stuff for the fans (like the MC info template we created), and songs for the official soundtrack. As the game creeps slowly and determinedly towards its initial completion, that also means learning new things as a solo developer to prepare for the future, like learning to build an official website, researching business and tax practices, and beginning to think about how to conduct testing, publishing, and marketing down the road. Much of what I enumerate here hasn't been made public yet and will continue to cook in the background for a while, but I'm very proud of the work I've gotten done this year and will be excited to unveil more in the future!

And of course, for even more Shepherds of Haven content, I've added and completed even more stories for our little library on Patreon (which also has sizable word count at this point): The Bridge of Bones (a Trouble and Riel murder mystery), O Happy Dagger (a dark adventure featuring Briony, Chase, and Red), and The Hunt (a wild tale involving Tallys, Halek, Shery, and new kinds of spirits, fey magic, and Elves) were all serial stories completed in 2023, while Some Kind of Virus is a cyberpunk zombie apocalypse AU that will continue to be updated with new chapters monthly.

A full list of the Shepherd short stories and serial novellas (with links) can be viewed here!

I hope you enjoyed this session of Shepherds of Haven Wrapped! Honestly, this doesn't actually cover everything I've been working on, but some things can't be packaged and listed out neatly, or otherwise won't seem very interesting to anyone else but me! 😂 As we inch through Chapter 9 and get more interludes done (only a few more main chapters to go), I'm hopeful that I'll also be able to find time to work on my next novel, but we'll see if the Shepherds schedule ends up ramping up or settling down as we work steadily towards finishing the main story!

One important thing before wrapping up is to acknowledge your guys' role in this wonderful, wild journey. I want to express my heartfelt gratitude to each and every one of you for your invaluable contributions to the development of Shepherds of Haven. Whether you took the time to share links to the game, supported its growth on Discord or Patreon, left encouraging messages or asked interesting questions, reported bugs, or showcased your remarkable works of fanfiction or fanart, I am sincerely thankful for the unwavering support from this amazing community! Your collective efforts have played a pivotal role in shaping the world of the game into what it is today. Words cannot adequately convey my gratitude for your support, and I am truly blessed to have such a passionate community surrounding this project.

As we step into 2024, I am filled with anticipation for the developments awaiting Shepherds of Haven. Big things are on the horizon, and I am so excited to share these experiences with you! Thank you for being an integral part of this journey, and here's to the continued growth of our shared little world. Cheers to 2024—may it be a year filled with creativity, adventure, and joy! 🎊

[theredofoctober]

MANNA- CHAPTER THIRTEEN: TEA

Dark!Hannibal Lecter x Reader x Dark!Will Graham AU fic

TW for eating disorders, noncon, abuse, drugging, Daddy kink, implied child abuse and more

Read after the cut...

-

For a near week your deceptive submission endures, the hours newly tightened by a schedule your host has contrived to divert you from your anti-appetite.

Days rise from the borderless veil of time like castles from a dawn mist. Made a school child again, you sit before documentaries and foreign art films, take up a journal whose pages bear but glances of your internal woe.

You find yourself wishing that you could write with any particular talent.

As a girl you’d yearned to be an author, never daring to materialise the urge with any substantial effort. Now you can’t imagine you’ll ever be allowed so loose-penned a profession, if any at all, kept covetously home and infantilised until you cannot think beyond a fraction of words.

Why, then, does Hannibal go to such arduous lengths to educate you? Surely it is only so that—before the eyes of peers—you'll be the cultured averment of triumph through therapy.

In the soirees of your doctor's hopes you cleave, willing, to his side, bewitching the throng with smirking witticisms before sucking his cock with that same clever mouth when the last guest steps, merry and ignorant, into the night.

Already Hannibal aspires to materialise that abstraction. You find proof enough of it in the wardrobe he’s amassed for you, which expands as the days progress.

Some of his choices are attractive to you, reluctant though you are to consider this— long velvet gowns in puce, umber, black, blouse and skirt co-ordinations plucked from the runway, some still in boxes emblazoned with designer names.

Others of the selection offend you, however, in their bald intent for closed-door wear. Girlish dresses in light chiffon, corseted silk in flowering lace. Short necks and hemlines, some of them scarcely reaching the knee. Then there are sheer nightclothes stored in perfumed sheets, no practicality but for the sort of sleeping in which no slumber is to be had.

You’re to dress like some obscure young celebrity, a whimsical echo of an era thirty years passed. Still, there is an attempt in this incredible closet to appease you as well as to change, adapting your preferences to a style acceptable to Hannibal’s eye.

It’s of particular note to you that the garments are each the same size, implying that you haven’t gained significant weight since your last awareness of its value. Conceivably the labels might have been replaced, but it’s so unlikely a trick that the theory is quickly thrown out.

Hannibal is inviting you to trust his process with a peace offering of equilibrium, the second-best prize to starvation.

You are not such a fool as to take it yet, though in action you may appear to have done so.

When in the presence of your keepers you remain in unwavering character, an amplified, changeling copy of the child you'd once been. In this way you're allowed your little misbehaviours—pulling a face at food you do not like, or the shrugging rejection of an idle caress.

So long as you sit at meals, and don’t speak in any manner that threatens the illusion of family you are unharmed, and laden with unending gifts. It would be a winning childhood, had you been born into it through a far less insidious violence than that which brought you here.

Still, the awareness that you must simper and lisp for another month before you venture an escape soon wears upon your tolerance.

One Saturday morning, alone in your room, the silence of that cushioned cell amplifies your every thought to a piqued tenor.

You miss when hunger bled like smoke through your skull, ridding its halls of all but its fey shape. With a scalding clarity you behold what you are now: a homunculus, the issue of diablerie, cut small by men’s black magic.

You cast yourself amidst a tide of cushions and mimic your own words upon them in a bitter snarl.

“‘Yes, Daddy’”, ‘no, Daddy’. ‘Little one’. Oh God! It’s all so stupid. Stupid!”

An involuntary laugh chatters through you like a coin thieved from a beggar’s cup, hateful and maniacal. Yet you perform this anger as you do the docile coquette, the bounds between that self and your own a gradient that softens by the day.

It’s become rather easier to be a monster’s daughter than a woman, this you cannot deny. The longer you are extracted from the world the less you’ll remember of how to live within it, if you ever knew, before.

The misery of this thought proves too much to bear.

You cry until your head is as hot about the brow as a horseshoe turned white from the forge. The sobs wrench the muscles of your stomach in two pained halves, and still you weep until you laugh again, thinking how deranged you’d sound to any eavesdropper in the rooms below.

Afterwards you sit very quietly, like an ailing bride in a Victorian novel; you are, after all, very ill, and it suits you well to behave so.

Having nothing better to do, you switch on the television and skim through the channels with neither aim nor interest.

Thin, beautiful women populate the screen, their waists like darner flies, their wrists as narrow as your thumb. Even the history programmes feature experts with trim figures in sensible interview dresses.

Perturbed, you flick on and on until you find something on eighteenth century Paris, hosted by a grandfatherly old professor marked safe from scrutiny in the absence of compare.

You watch until your lids fall, thinking of catacombs full of monk bones, the cloying scent of ancient death, each as forgotten under dust as you are by all those who once loved you, and revered by those who never have.

In the afternoon Hannibal wakes you gently by turning the television off at the set.

“Are you feeling alright, little one?” he asks. “It’s unusual for you to sleep in so late.”

You hum in a noncommittal fashion, scarcely bothering to open your eyes.

Perhaps he’ll let you drowse the day away; you’d dream through all horrors like this, should your insomnia give you reprieve. A week, a month, a year sold to the sandman in exchange for peace— yet the dark would follow you there, also, antlered men in imagined night.

“You’ve been in bed long enough,” says Hannibal, peeling back your sheets with a brisk tug. “Up you get. Alana is visiting us this evening. She’ll have some questions for you.”

Weakly attempting to thieve back the blanket, you say, “I really don’t feel like talking to her. Can’t you do it? Please?”

“Jack won’t be satisfied with a second-hand report. Alana must see that you’re comfortable here. Not a particular incentive for you, but I can provide others.”

You open one eyelid, enticed by this readiness to bargain.

“So what do I get if I say yes?”

“A light dinner,” says Hannibal. “And—depending on your behaviour—perhaps another reward we’ll negotiate later tonight.”

At this you sit up; starving is a precious contraband in the doctor’s abode, worth more to you than every decadent thing under its rafters.

“Feeling better already, I see,” says Hannibal, through one of his charitable smiles. “Please stand by the mirror and allow me to dress you.”

Unbidden there comes the thought of his hand under your skirts, pressing inwards like a starfish sucking at a stone.

“Oh, come on, Dad,” you say, in flustered haste. "Really?”

“There’s a certain picture I’d like to create for Alana’s benefit,” he insists. “One of wellness and serenity. Your selections tend to imply something far more brooding and morose.”

With a testy little sigh you slip out of bed, rubbing your arms free of rising gooseflesh.

“You bought me those ‘brooding and morose’ outfits, remember, Dad? What does that say about you?”

“That I seek to please you,” says Hannibal, touching your mouth with playful thumb. “Today I hope that you’ll return the gesture.”

He holds aloft a pastel blue dress in transparent lace, a beaded line of detailing pointing downwards at the hips in a suggestive v.

“I don’t know,” you say, far more sharply than intended. “It’s short. And I don’t like the colour.”

“The shade will suit you,” Hannibal replies. “And you’ll wear a shift underneath for modesty, if that’s your concern.”

You don’t bother with reproof; he’s guiding you out of your nap-rumpled clothes and into the dress before you can think of an excuse he’ll entertain.

Unresisting, you only glance aside, breathing shallowly so as not to brush your chest against him as he adjusts your collar.

That Hannibal hasn’t made love to you since you shared a bed makes you think that he’s waiting for something, a moment fermented to sweeten the sex. He is, you warrant, as driven by pleasure as any man, being only of a tighter and more methodical restraint.

You can’t decide whether you’re glad of the wait or if you’d prefer he throw you down on your bed and ravish you now to have done with it.

Doubtless Hannibal considers an identical dilemma, turning you before him like a ballerina in a mirrored jewellery box.

“Even the greats couldn’t hope to replicate this image of you,” he says, as he inspects his work. “To attempt it would have them rending the canvas to pieces rather take credit for their failure.”

The compliment is long forgotten when, later, Alana breaches the house, her pretty face above her mulberry blouse like a lily in a violet bouquet.

Her casual manner in kissing Hannibal’s cheek at the door suggests a social visit, as does the gift of white wine under one thin arm. Still, she remembers her duty, taking you aside with a subtle professionalism within two minutes of having greeted her host.

Her kindness is a shingle in a cyclone, dashed away by the futility of its own existence.

“Dr Lecter told me you’re doing a lot better than when I last saw you,” says Alana, placing one of her graceful hands atop your own without comment as to its frigidity. “Are you feeling more positive now, or would you disagree with that?”

Slipping your fingers out from under hers, you say, “Well, I have a TV now. I’m allowed to do a lot more things I’m actually interested in. That helps. Thanks for that, by the way. I know you talked Dr Lecter into it.”

Smiling, Alana says, “I can’t take credit for that. He was already making preparations when I brought it up. He's racked up quite the shopping bill.”

The notion of Hannibal navigating the catalogues of online stores is ridiculous, somehow anachronistic, but then again you’ve witnessed him tapping at a sleek iPad, a jarring sight, on every occasion.

“How about mealtimes?” asks Alana. “I understand you’re working towards a plan that’s easier for you.”

“It’s still hard,” you mumble. “Tough. You know.”

Your eyes are on Alana’s patent court shoes, picturing a blandly organised rack of identical heels in alternate shades. Perhaps ankle boots for the colder days. Simple. Nothing flash.

Alana pauses, quickly assessing your disinterest in the exchange.

“Hannibal says he’d like you to agree to more therapy sessions,” she says. “He feels you’re opening up. I think we both know that’s probably wishful thinking on his side, but don’t shoot him down just yet.”

“I won’t,” you say. “Couldn’t anyway, right?”

Alana rearranges her discomfort into another closed-lipped smile. You can’t envision that lipstick ever moving, striped across her face as yours has been by both of the friends that she holds dear.

“So how are things between you and Will now?” enquires Alana, quite on cue. “Rumour has it you’re getting along like a house on fire.”

Truthfully Will has rather cooled since the night of the seizure, his envy retreating to the black of some inner primordial cave. He seems both caustically amused by your recent performance and cynical of its longevity, yet neither judgement is as severe as before.

The thought of your kindness sits with him, has been taken up with the cagy hunger of an orphan to a heel of bread. Piece by piece you’ve given him more of it in flirting words, but these he’s yet to take, turning each away with a smirk.

“Don’t try so hard,” he’d said, only a day ago, but when you’d thrown an idle foot across his lap as you read a book beside him he hadn’t removed it, only pretended to ignore the intrusion.

“Me and Will are okay,” you say to Alana. “That’s all.”

You must give away something of your successes in your expression, for Alana’s mouth twitches into a coy grin.

“Just okay?”

At that moment Hannibal knocks on the open door, a merciful trespass, setting you free of her.

*

As promised, you’re offered a modest salad while Hannibal and Alana make their way through numberless courses over the gifted wine.

At first you’re too absorbed in the mortification of eating in front of the other woman to pay attention to their mounting chemistry, dragging the same tattered leaf through streams of congealing oil.

It’s only as you’re making a fortress of cutlery across a lump of uneaten meat that you take full stock of the flirting at work before you.

Though attempts are made by both parties to fold you into the conversation they are mild at best, almost neglectful.

Alana glances up into Hannibal’s eyes in frequent, laughing enjoyment, touching his shoulder or forearm lightly; he, for his part, looks upon her lips and the curves of her form and speaks fondly to her, his voice hushed with a want of sex.

You’ve heard it often enough to know it, and should be glad to have his attentions otherwise distracted.

Yet your hands creep under the table, squeezing your thighs and stomach as though to claw out the matter you've ingested through your meat.

"I'm done," you blurt out, cutting across Hannibal's opinion of a recent classical performance he’s attended. "Can I go upstairs?"

It's with difficulty that you bite off the habitual 'Dad' that has replaced 'doctor' in your vocabulary.

Hannibal offers you a near invisible look of disgruntlement at the interruption, quickly mollified by Alana's fingers at his elbow.

"I'm sure we're boring you," she says. "Go on up and relax. You don't have to stick around just to be polite."

You glance at Hannibal, seeking his approval before you stand. His eyes, within so static a face, are black glass in their suspicion.

"I'll come up to speak to you later on," he says, at last. "If there's anything you need, don't hesitate to ask for it."

Rather than go immediately to your den above you linger to watch as the couple drink in the parlour, so close as to almost be in one another’s arms.

You see from Hannibal's relaxed posture that he is not ablaze with a fascinated love for Alana as he is for Will; he holds her merely with the affection of an old friend, and, too, with an uncomplicated desire.

He would never rape Alana Bloom; such violence, to Hannibal, is an entry into a cabal of which she has no part. Her value to him is as representation of his treasured comforts, and all that which Hannibal would not willingly change.

Alana is as used for her parts as you are, in her way, and oblivious to it, like some grinning scarecrow blind to the birds that snicker and creep at its back.

Yet as you watch her lean, murmuring, into Hannibal’s neck you feel a tooth of ice grind through your heart and turn away, feeling numbly for the bannisters behind you.

Almost on hands and knees you climb the steps to your bed, brought low by that astonishing cold.

Pausing at the bathroom you prostrate yourself at the toilet’s mercy, still unable to empty yourself of the pain and bile you'd evict to be naked of your jealousy.

In surrender you rest your head on the cool floor and remain there even after the compulsion to vomit subsides.

If you cannot flog yourself for your sins as the saints did then this will do, sprawled before the porcelain God of another degredation.

Presently the bathroom door creaks open, striking an unwanted rod of light across your face.

“Go away,” you mutter, wiping your face with an angry scrub of your knuckles. “I don’t want to talk to you.”

Hannibal looks at you with a minister’s pious severity.

"I see. So I was correct. You object to Alana and I having a sexual relationship. Any other father would sternly inform you that it’s none of your business, and as your therapist it’s even less so.”

Raising your head, you snap at him as fiercely as you dare.

“What about me?”

“My friendship with Alana is very different to what you and I share,” says Hannibal, and you snort, wiping a stream of clear mucus across your lips.

“I’ll bet.”

Hannibal turns his head at a quizzical angle, and you perceive the very second of his understanding like the unveiling of some trick.

“You must explain yourself, darling,” he says. “What is it about this that has upset you?”

The logical answer should be that you wish to save Alana from him, that you cannot watch her beaming, black-haired head roll out from under the axe.

Instead, you blurt out, “Don’t you get it, Dad? How it makes me feel? You’re supposed to understand me, and I’m pretty sure you do. You knew that it would hurt me. You did this on purpose the way you wave me around in front of Will.”

Using the sink to right yourself you get to your feet, standing on pathetic, defiant tiptoe so that you might gaze into the devil’s face directly.

“If you have to do this, then please, just me. Just me. I can’t stand it. It makes me feel sick to think about you and her together. Knowing you’ll touch me afterwards. Don’t do this to me. Please."

“I see,” says Hannibal.

He speaks with such calm that you deflate from your anger at once.

“Very well,” he says. “I can make an excuse for Alana to leave. Would that please you, little one?”

This time you don’t answer, only stare at him with huge and terrible eyes until he retreats to the stairway.

“Oh, god,” you say, under your breath. “Amy, you’d really hate me right now, wouldn’t you?”

You hear Hannibal and Alana talking in low undertones, the female voice a coo of thoughtful sympathy. In time Alana collects herself to leave, but only when her car propels itself quietly from the driveway does Hannibal come to you again.

By now you’re sitting at your dresser, making a humiliated attempt to recollect your dignity with cosmetics. You know that Hannibal will not like what you’d made of your face—the eyes painted black, your lips the colour of your heart, a sinking, well-bound stone.

Yet all he says as he stands behind you is, “Look at me, little one.”

Your hand shakes, blotting your eyelid with an errant apostrophe of mascara.

“Don’t want to.”

“I know. I’d like you to, even so.”

The gentleness of Hannibal’s voice is an agony to you. You’ve never hated nor been more drawn to him than you are now, this impossible spirit in the vessel of a man.

Stiffly you turn on your chair, meeting his gaze to find it truly repentant.

“I won’t make love to Alana again,” says Hannibal, and you know as you do the reality of elements that he does not lie. “I see that this triggers your fear of abandonment too greatly. But it might not be possible for me to avoid all romantic advances.

“There are rumours abound as to our arrangement already, and it will seem suspicious if I don’t take a lover. But I’ll do my best to be faithful to our family.”

He pauses, watching you battle to suppress your disgust for him, for yourself, for all things in the bracken of his design.

“For now, I’d like you to relax,” says Hannibal. “This level of distress will make you ill. I’m concerned that it already has.”

Taking you by a hand as clammy as mermaid skin he leads you down to the living room to serve you from a pot of fragrant tea.

Though its calorific value is likely near to air you catastrophize with immediacy, unable to touch the cup, let alone drink.

“I’m not doing it on purpose this time,” you babble. “I’m not, Dad, please, you’ve got to believe me.”

Hannibal raises a hand to caress you— that, and only that, and yet you shrink against the couch in expectancy of a blow.

An appalled look tightens Hannibal’s expression, a hypocrisy of which he seems endlessly capable.

“There, now,” he says. “I can tell the difference between unruliness and genuine struggle. You and I both know that tea is only leaves and water— why do you believe against logic that it will affect your weight?”

“I don’t know,” you say, with a helpless shake of the head. “I feel like if I drink it I won’t be able to stop myself. I’ll eat and eat until I’m... big, and then I won’t be able to go back to the way I was. Everyone will see me differently. Treat me like they used to. People can be cruel.”

“And none crueller than you are to yourself,” says Hannibal, and he eases the cup between your hands so that you must take it or scald yourself raw. “There is nothing shameful in having a body of any kind, and any who judge you for that would wear their foolishness like a flag for all to see. Nevertheless, I’ve balanced your weight here, and will continue to do so if that is what’s needed for you to believe in my intentions.”

He aids you to drink, lifting the cup to your mouth over and over until the last drop. From the bitter taste you know it altered by some drug.

For once you do not care.

The night has left you so ashamed of your bearing that you’re half joyful to be done with it, sinking back as euphoria transforms all things that touch you into nirvana.

Your fingers drape across your body in aimless exploration, stopping only as Will enters the room with Hannibal at his side.

The younger man’s eyebrows jump as you giggle and hide your hands behind your back.

“You’re smiling,” says Will. “And I’m not sure how I feel about the circumstances.”

“Our girl is relieved to see you, Will,” says Hannibal. “A familiar face is a balm for even the most taxing day.”

Will looks from you to Hannibal ponderously.

“Alana was here earlier,” he states.

“She was, much to our little one’s chagrin.”

“Do you have to talk about her?” you interrupt, in loose-tongued irritation.

Hannibal chuckles.

“We do not. There are other topics I’d find far more engaging.”

You watch from under heavy lids as the men discuss the Lover’s case in low, library murmurs.

“Tanya Marrow was found washed up by the Patapsco River this morning,” says Will, with a grim regret. “Her wounds were fresh, meaning the Lover only mutilated Tanya and placed her into the doll when he was ready to throw her away. He was content with how closely she resembled the woman he’s desperate to make, for a while.

“But she wasn’t close enough. In the end he had to remind her that she was just a toy to him, and punish her for her lacking.”

The contrast of these dreary horrors with the rainbow light of feeling through your needy cunt should sicken you, but your mind is in disorder, barely one thought akin to the next.

“We’ve made a breakthrough in regards to the dolls,” Will continues. “The well-made ones are expensive; for one person to have so many implies that the Lover is either a wealthy collector, or that he’s able to access them at a considerable discount. Possibly for free.”

“I’m assuming the factory producing these dolls has been identified,” says Hannibal.

Will swallows a mouthful of whiskey.

“There are only four vendors known to produce the style of doll the Lover uses. Jack’s got someone looking into their customers, narrowing down the suspects to buyers in Virginia. Considering how specialised these clients are that shouldn't take long.”

The older man listens with a solemn intensity, scarcely drinking from his own glass.

“I see the Lover almost exactly now,” says Will. “He knows he has to take his bride eventually; he’s circling her, choosing women that are closer and closer to her physical proximity. The next target will be someone she knows.

“It’s a dangerous move, but by now the Lover wants someone that’s stood so close to this woman that he can taste her. Imagine her beneath him when he defiles the inferior victim.”

Fear swims, crocodilian, within you, disturbing your narcotic stupor.

Seeming to sense it, Hannibal says, “Let’s continue this line of conversation later on. I wouldn’t want to give our surrogate daughter bad dreams.”

Will glances at you, watching you fumble idly with the hem of your dress.

“You don’t plan to cast her as our daughter in tonight’s play, do you?” he asks, plainly.

“That would unnecessarily chasten the evening,” says Hannibal. “She’s the woman for whom we are legally responsible, and what we deem fit for her continued health is ours to determine.”

You recline across the couch like an empress, watching the firelight glance shadows across your skin like a garment in a dream. Hannibal slips a hand from your shoulder to your breast, teasing the tiffany lace across your nipple, and the warmth and delicacy of the touch breathes through you a shiver of ermine delight.

Only vaguely do you acknowledge your revulsion, a whisper at a keyhole on the other side of the house.

“What did you give her for her to let you touch her like that?” asks Will, curiously.

His hands play upon the sides of his whiskey glass, and the thought of them upon your thighs or between them drives your lower lip between your teeth with unbeckoned desire.

“I’ve offered her release from her spirited rebellion,” says Hannibal. “Even having promised us fealty, this act she wouldn’t easily endure. I wish for her to experience intimacy unhindered by her mental bounds.”

His fingers glance beneath the neckline of your dress and cross your bare skin as a swan's wing meets the sky, rushing a moan from you more akin to a sob in its juddering resonance.

“Besides,” Hannibal continues, “she’s had a trying afternoon. Her body welcomes this.”

Will’s face, washed honey bronze by firelight, is so neutral that even if you were not high you’d fail to extract the mechanisms of thought behind it.

“We’ve both succeeded in bringing her to climax,” says Hannibal, as his other hand folds your skirt against your pelvis. “But never her consent. Tonight, perhaps we will.”

“In this state she has no real autonomy,” Will argues. “We’re witnessing an illusion.”

Hannibal pauses, his face like that of an antiques dealer slyly unveiling some stolen wares.

“Not exactly,” he says. “Little one: you’ve described me as handsome. Do think that Will is good-looking?”

Your concentration wavers as two digits inscribe an ouroboros in your arousal. The wrongness of it all only enhances the sensation, the thought of being a lovely toy for older men to play with.

Your name on Dr Lecter’s lips recalls his question.

“Yes,” you say. “I— I do.”

You don’t know why you’re honest. Even a child, embarrassed, could lie.

Will smiles, and for a moment there is something almost sweet in his expression.

Then the dark of him slithers behind it again with predatory ease, and he leans forward, knees apart, possessed of a revelation of self-assurance.

This is the self he becomes when challenging Dr Lecter, the arrogant observer of all living things.

“I already knew that,” says Will. “I don’t mind hearing it clarified, though.”

You can’t imagine him ever admitting that you’re beautiful in return. Hannibal would, has done so already in such a succulence of language that your mouth could water with it, but not Will, not in so many words.

All that he will allow thus far is that you are not ugly. Blearily you vow to unwind from him his obsession.

“Puppy love,” says Hannibal, looking into your face with a gentle irony. “You’d like him to touch you, wouldn’t you, little one?”

This you don’t answer, and rather than press you again Hannibal makes you come with three fingers inside you, patient as you cry out and roll your head aside in conflict and delirium.

You cannot decide if he means to reward you for your participation with Will or to humiliate you for that same eagerness. It is bewildering and erotic, this envy they have for one another; to quell it you must kneel to the hierarchy, submissive always to your covetous masters.

“Join us, Will,” says Hannibal, at last.

Briefly you think that he won’t, a scoffing lord, above it all.

Then he crosses the room, sets down his whiskey and kisses you, first your mouth, then your neck, leaving the taste of smoke and almonds wherever his lips meet.

Whimpering, you kick your feet on the couch as each petal of ecstasy comes loose from a branch within you.

Sometimes Will’s teeth push against your flesh, not quite biting; Hannibal, on the other side of your neck, gently does, as though inheriting the expected assault from his would-be lover.

His fingers form a cylinder of delight in you, the pad of his thumb undoing another orgasm in a trio of strokes.

“How gifted we are to receive such delights,” says Hannibal, and as you groan he docks his arousal in your own, filling you so entirely with his cock that you think and feel only the fucking and nothing more, a witless hole.

Will brings your hand to his erection, and there is no uncertainty in that motion, nor in his lips about your breast. His rough tongue, the saliva like a paste jewel on your nipple—

Writhing, panting, you stir through pleasure upon pleasure like the layers of the earth, soft, dark, deep.

Your palm tightens on Will’s cock like a night sea about the lighthouse it yearns to bring down, working him with a knowing purpose. As Hannibal continues his pelvic rolls against you Will draws back, avoiding the early release that your cunning fist would bring.

Not once do the men make contact in a sexual manner with each other, and you don’t understand it, this avoidance of the ultimate lust. Yet perhaps it is that they fuck through you, for when Hannibal achieves his orgasm and moves away Will pushes into you without caution of the other man’s seed still warm in that same place.

He looks up into Hannibal’s eyes as he does it, watching his response as he weaves pleasure from a loom of servile flesh.

But then you make some shapeless sound of need, one hand extended, not quite touching him, and Will's eyes return to you with such intensity that you forget that brief, lost woe.

He mimics Hannibal’s command of your body, hands moving, unrushed, from breast to hip as he opens you further to him. His violence is a mage’s dance, something once done around fire, and charged now through the vessel of a young and studious man.

No wonder, then, that you have neither strength nor will to repel him. You roil, loose-limbed as the dead, only your noise and perspiring response to sensation to evidence your ongoing life.

Hannibal’s arms go loosely around you, holding your head in his lap as Will makes love to you with a brooding fervour. Every touch is like the discovery of a new and indescribable existence, having traversed to some frontier of feeling only sects of pleasure have previously founded.

You know yourself wanted by both men, now, feel it through their mutterings of ecstasy, the unending pressure of mouths and hands upon your skin. They crave your wanting of them in return, lap up your slightest sign of it, tainted as it is by Hannibal’s poison.

Will pours in you his ending, his breath a kiss against your eardrum.

You come again with both men gazing upon you, their faces as close and beautiful together as stringed pearls.

Dimly you fear that they will succeed in their work with you, no matter how fiercely you defy their twofold will.

“Hey,” says the younger man, nudging your shoulder lightly. “Snap out of it. You’re bleeding. Did we hurt you?”

Your first thought is, “yes, of course you did.”

The next, having looked down at the red dart through the milk of semen on your thigh, is the same nip of terror you know from an unexpectedly high number on the scale.

The final cognition—and one almost certainly true—is that this carnival of sex has brought that crimson forth like the incitation of bacchanalian madness.

The shock of it wrings you near dry of the doctor’s drug, a bald winter sobriety.

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. “It’s my period. I haven’t had one in years.”

[imasinnerimsorry]

Smoking Is Bad For You

Fei and Harry are step-siblings, and Fei is curious about Harry’s smoking habits. A bit too curious. And Harry decides to teach them all about it.

**NOTE: This is a Dark!Fic, so there will be dark themes mentioned in this story, such as drugging. Please be warned, and do not read if you are sensitive to themes like this.

SMUT; Kinks include: Dark!Harry, CNC, choking, slapping, spitting, degradation, smoking, dacryphilia, squirting, manipulation

Harry sat in his room by the windowsill, his sativa sitting right beside him. He brought a blunt up to his lips, taking a puff and inhaled the smoke that tried escaping his mouth and nostrils. He loved to smoke, it gave him a feeling that was second to no other. Actually, no, it was second to the feeling of sex.

He loved the feeling of euphoria that a hole could bring to his cock. The way the walls of the cavity he was inside of would wrap around him and wring the semen out of him like a damn rag. The way the person underneath him would squirm and cry and let out noises that they dare wouldn’t do in public. That was his favorite feeling. But he hadn’t felt it in a while, and he was yearning for it very badly. So, he smoked to at least feel some sort of pleasure through a different medium.

As he stayed in thought, Harry suddenly heard his door creak open from behind him. “Hey, Harry!,” he heard a voice greet him. It was that of his stepsibling Fei.

His dad and their father got married about six months ago, and their parents’ relationship was something beautiful to see evolve. Fei and Harry’s relationship was pretty symbiotic- not anything negative like how the media portrayed stepsibling relationships. He was quick to learn a lot about Fei, they’re nonbinary, love videogames, and they’re booksmart. They’re a bit too booksmart to be honest; they didn’t know anything outside of their academics. He could imagine that they’ve never been to a party, drank alcohol, smoked, done any sort of debauchery; they’ve probably never even had sex, which was sort of intriguing to Harry.

As they walked into his room and closed the door behind them, their nostrils inhaled a peculiar odor. They had only smelled it outside whenever Harry had his friends over to play some football, but never smelled it inside of their house. What could it be?

They looked at the small object he had in his hands, and their nostrils pinpointed that that was where the smell was the strongest. Maybe it came from there? “What’s that?” Fei asked him while they pointed at it, genuinely curious about this object. “It looks kind of like a cigarette.”

Harry looked down at the blunt in his fingers and then back at Fei, letting out the most guttural laugh he could at their innocent statement. He answered, “It’s a blunt. I guess it’s sort of a ‘weed cigarette’?”

Fei was amazed. A cigarette made with weed! That’s how people smoked it? But then their concerns started to creep up, remembering the nightmares they were taught in school about smoking. “Isn’t-” they made sure to lower their voice when speaking because they felt naughty talking about such things, “Isn’t smoking bad for you? And what if our dads found out?”

Harry scoffed at his sibling’s concerns and took another puff of his joint. “First of all, my dad knows I smoke. And your dad will just have to deal with it, I guess.” He took another puff. “And second of all, smoking is bad only if you do it too much. Many people do it because it makes them feel good. They wouldn’t smoke if it did them more harm than good.”

Fei had such an intrigued look on their face as their brother explained this all to them. It was such a taboo thing to talk about, but hearing Harry’s simple and nonchalant explanations to their questions made them feel ashamed for thinking of weed in such a negative way. Fei wanted to make it up to their stepbrother, and only thought of one way.

“Well, what if I tried your weed?”

Harry coughed and choked on his own spit after hearing his step-sibling’s request. It was so sudden and so bold, yet so innocent in their delivery. He didn’t really know how to tackle this. “My weed? You wanna try it, Fei?” Fei nodded in front of him with a cute little smile on their face, sparking Harry’s intrigue even more. “Hmmm,” he thought for a second. Then, he smirked as a lightbulb lit up in his head. “No.”

Fei was confused. “N-no?” they asked Harry, as to which he shook his head “no” in confirmation. “But why? You just said it could make people feel good?”

Harry put his hand on Fei’s shoulder, looking directly at them as he responded. “Well, the one I have isn’t for beginners. Maybe I can get you one that you can try tomorrow?” He noticed Fei’s face light up again at his suggestion, making him smile as well. Thank God his and Fei’s dads were away for work for the weekend.

“Okay, I guess that makes sense! It’s like when people drink alcohol. You don’t wanna drink… what’s the one that starts with a ‘V’ again?” Fei scrunched up their face as they tried to remember the name of that one beverage.

Harry couldn’t help but to chuckle. “Vodka?”

Fei laughed. “Yeah, vodka! You don’t wanna try vodka as your first drink! You gotta start with champagne or wine or something small!”

Harry chuckled again, but was curious about Fei’s knowledge of alcohol. “How do you know about liquor?”

“My classmates do it at college a lot,” Fei began to explain. “Sometimes, it makes the girls really dizzy and clumsy, so their boyfriends or girlfriends and their friends have to help them out. At least that’s what I hear them say.”

Harry’s smile remained, but his eyes got darker as he listened to Fei’s story. It was funny to hear their innocent description of girls getting blackout drunk at college parties. But, that made him think of the plan he thought of earlier that made his lightbulb’s shine even brighter.

Fei began to walk out of Harry’s room, having a little skip in their step as they thought about trying weed with their step brother tomorrow. “I’ll see you later, Harry!” They turned the corner to head to their bedroom, and Harry took a puff of his joint again. He chuckled at himself, still thinking about his plan for tomorrow. He knew it would fall through.

***

Harry was thrilled as he drove away from his friend’s house with the pack of weed and drugs in a black plastic bag sitting in the passenger’s seat. He was pretty much about to taint his stepsibling’s innocence, which he wasn’t at all guilty about. He’s helped some of his friends over the years try out some pretty weird yet exciting things, and they all enjoyed it. But, this wasn’t just the weed he was thinking about- he was about to drug Fei.

The plan in his head was simple: Go home, roll a couple of blunts (one for him and one for Fei), except one of the blunts was going to have something his friend referred to as “pussy powder”. His friend justified that it would make anyone with a pussy “automatically wet and ready for taking”, something Harry definitely wanted for Fei. He knew Fei was a virgin and that virgins get wet due to literally anything, but he was afraid that his sexual advances would scare Fei into running away or even telling their dad about it. Or worse- Fei would tell his dad about it. So, he had to improvise.

Harry arrived home, running to his room and slamming the door behind him, quickly setting the scene of his plan. He dumped everything out of his plastic bag, and got straight to rolling up. He had never laced someone before, but he had seen his friends do it especially when he himself was in college, so he was familiar with the concept. So he took his timed to get it correctly.

Until Fei knocked on his door.

“Harryyyy?” Harry heard as Fei called out his name from the other side. “Can I come in?” They asked, their cute voice ringing in Harry’s ears as he started to rush his process. He stammered out his response, “S-Sure, Fei! Come in and lock the door behind you.”

Fei walked into the room and made sure to follow their older step-brother’s instructions, locking the door behind them, even using the chain to close it tightly. They walked by Harry’s bed and sat themselves right beside Harry, who was quite the nervous wreck as he finished rolling up Fei’s designated joint.

“Hey,” Harry said as he forced a smile upon his face. “This one’s for you!” He handed Fei their joint, and watched as Fei observed it like it was some specimen in a science lab. “Just gotta light it,” he lit up his own and brought it to his mouth to take a puff, “See?”

The younger step-sibling let out an “Oh,” as they watched Harry light up their blunt for them. They fidgeted in anxiousness awaiting for the moment they could finally give smoking a go. And finally, Harry gave them the okay to give it an inhale. Fei took a puff of their joint almost immediately, and Harry chuckled as he watched them. It was a nervous chuckle, but Harry was quick to smile and cover it up. Fei coughed and let out a gust of smoke from their nostrils and mouth, they used their hand to move some of the smoke from their face. “Whoa, that was nuts!” They exclaimed as they looked at Harry for a response.

Harry could only nod his head. “Yeah, but you get used to it after a while.” He took another puff of his as his own anxiousness started to get the best of him. He and Fei took some more inhalations of their blunts, and Harry didn’t even bother to engage in any sort of conversation. He just really hoped his plan would work and that the “pussy powder” or whatever it was called would work.

About 30 minutes had passed, and Harry noticed Fei crossing and uncrossing their legs repeatedly. Briefly, they would hump the bed, quite obviously to Harry, as they tried to adjust themselves. They seemed to be frustrated, not only in a confused way, but in another way he knew all too well: sexually. Perfect.

“Why are you fidgeting, love? Something the matter?,” He inquired, knowing what was wrong, but wanting to hear how Fei would explain themselves.

“I- I don’t know. After I inhaled the blunt, something started happening to my body,” Fei responded, stopping themselves from looking at Harry as they spoke. They were confused and slightly embarrassed. They didn’t really want to tell Harry anything. But, maybe he could help because he knew about weed and he was also older than them, so he definitely had much more knowledge and experience than them

“Aw, what happened, honey? You can tell me anything! I am your big brother after all.” He made sure to reassure them and stress that this was a judgment-free zone. They could tell him anything. “Tell me, please? I won’t tease you or anything.”

Harry noticed how Fei closed their legs more tightly and kept their head down as they replied to his question. They still felt embarrassed, but were also willing to tell him after the reassurance. “Um, I’m feeling a bit tingly and I- I think I’m leaking.”

Harry slyly smirked at their response. “And where is that happening?”

Fei looked down between their legs. Almost as if they were indirectly pointing at their nether-regions. “Um, d-down there?” Hopefully, Harry knew what they meant.

“Aw, sweetheart, down there?” Harry said with a phony-concerned tone. Fei nodded. “I know this sounds a bit embarrassing since I’m your step-brother and all, but I think if I get a closer look at it, I’ll know what’s going on. Besides, I know all about weed and studied medicine when I was in university!”

Fei thought for a moment. Were they really about to let Harry look at them down there? No one had done that before with them- not even they themselves had done it before. But, Harry had a point. He did know about weed and did study medicine. So maybe he could help. So, Fei laid back and kept their legs spread, lifting up their oversized shirt and exposing their panty-covered cunt to their step-brother.

Harry placed his hands on top of Fei’s thighs immediately. As he tightened his grips on the inside of their thighs, all he saw was a literal river of their juices pouring out of their little hole onto their panties. Harry was amazed; he should have laced them a long time ago.

“Let me take a closer look at it-”

“No!” Fei screamed. They really didn’t want him to see them down there. What if they were on their period? Does weed even start periods like that?

Harry calmed them down with a stroke of his hand on their thigh. “It’s alright, dear. It may be a bit embarrassing, but I’ve helped my other friends through this when this happened to them.” He was lying slightly. Of course, people got horny when they smoked, and he’s fucked people whenever they were high, but he had never fucked his friends through a laced blunt. He could never do that to them. But with Fei, it was different. He was intrigued to know what it was like. And honestly, he had to try however he could. “Let me take a look, okay?”

Fei was super embarrassed when Harry looked at them between their legs, but because Harry’s grip on their thighs was so strong, they couldn’t move from his grasp. So, they just let him do as he pleased. And hopefully he could help them with their problem.

Harry pulled Fei’s underwear to the side and his eyes widened as he looked at their bare cunt. Their lips lacked any hair, but were covered in their wetness. “It’s not your period, sweetie! You’re just getting wet.” Getting wet? Like there was water coming out of them?

“You might be horny, Fei,” he said with a conclusive tone, almost like he was a doctor.

“Horny?” Fei’s heard the term before, but didn’t know what it meant or even if they were, in fact, horny.

Harry laughed at their confused tone. “Let’s run through the symptoms, and you can say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ if you have them, okay?”

Fei nodded their head as they happily agreed to it. “Sure!”

Harry put out his hand as if it were a piece of paper, and used his other to simulate him checking boxes off of a list. “Alright, are you feeling needy? Like you really want something, even if you don’t know what that something is?”

Fei thought for a minute, then answered, “Yup! I don’t know what it is, but I want something soooo bad.”

He checked an imaginary box, then continued. “Is it throbbing here?” he asked as he placed a hand on their cunt and opened their lips just a bit to expose their clit, and he felt Fei squirm a bit at his touch.

“Y-yes. Quite a lot actually,” they said with a bit of hesitation in their voice.

Harry began to rub his palm around in slow circles, seeing how Fei would react. He then noticed them squirm even more and screw their face in a way that looked desperate. “I just tested you to see how you would react. And yes, it aligned with my ‘horny’ diagnosis. Everything you confirmed to me actually aligns with that diagnosis, too.”

“So, I’m horny?” They questioned him with a tinge of sadness in their voice.

Harry sighed. “Yup, it happens sometimes when people smoke. It’s not a bad thing. But, there’s only one way to cure it.” The man continued making circles over his step-sibling’s panties as he spoke, watching the reactions their face made very closely.

Fei managed to speak through Harry’s touches, soft pants escaping their lips throughout each word they spoke. “How- how do you cure it?”

Harry’s hand stopped rubbing on the mound of her cunt and he laid it onto the inside of one of Fei’s thighs. His other hand made its way onto the other thigh, and Harry collapsed onto his knees on the ground, his head landing between Fei’s legs and in front of their pussy. “You have to have an orgasm.”

Fei gulped as their stepbrother said those words. They knew what having an orgasm was; their friends would go on and on about orgasms or “cumming” in college. But, did that mean Harry wanted to have sex with them? They never had sex, and honestly didn’t really know how it worked. So, naturally, they asked him.

“Um, I have to have sex with you to get rid of it?”

Harry widened his eyes, a bit shocked that they knew that sex led to an orgasm; they seemed a bit clueless to him rubbing their pussy, so how did they know about sex? Harry replied, “Well, yes. Do you know what sex is?”

Fei didn’t know quite exactly. All they knew was that it’s how people had babies. And honestly didn’t want to figure anything more out about sex from their stepbrother. “Um, no. But I’ve heard my friends talk about having it?”

Harry spread Fei’s lips again and began to use one of his thumbs to circle their clit. “Oh, yeah?,” he questioned, and he brought his mouth down to Fei’s entrance, placing a kiss onto their skin around it.

Fei gasped and nodded their head. “Uh, huh,” they answered. “Harry, wh-what are you doing?”

Harry continued placing kisses over Fei’s exposed cunt and pressed his circling thumb down onto their clit more. “Tryna get you to orgasm! Isn’t that what I just said would help you feel better?”

The young one let out something of a moan as Harry sped his movements up a bit, and felt something fleshy enter their hole. It was wet and moving around inside of them, feeling every ridge of Fei’s core. Although confused, Fei leaned their body onto the bed, their back arching a bit as the sensations started to make them react to Harry’s touch more.

Harry moved his tongue a bit farther into their core and continued to rub his thumb against their clit. From the sounds falling through Fei’s mouth and the way their back arched, he could tell they were enjoying this. He decided to try something else, bringing two of his fingers into her cunt and moving his mouth to replace his thumb. He pouted his lips around Fei’s cunt and began to suck on it. His fingers started to make thrusts inside of them and and his mouth made slurping noises as he continued.

“Harry, I don’t think we should keep doing this,” they said with a pleading tone as they looked down at their step-brother going ham with their cunt.

“If you really didn’t want me, you wouldn't still be here, bunny.” He had a point there, Fei thought to themself as Harry continued his little sucks on their clit and thrusts of his fingers in their wet, warm pussy. They moaned as Harry swirled his finger around their walls, and a certain spot made them moan even louder. Fei covered their lips in shock and embarrassment.

Harry noticed this, and forced Fei’s hand from their mouth. “No, I want to hear you make as much noise as possible. That can help the horny go away.”

Fei nodded and Harry started to fasten his movements. He looked up into their eyes which encouraged Fei’s moans to get louder without much embarrassment.

Harry suddenly grabbed their thighs a bit too tightly, making them wince in pain. Fei tried to move away from Harry’s hands, but Harry pulled them back towards him and slapped Fei’s inner thigh. “Just stay fucking still, Fei! Fuckin’ hell you can’t fucking listen? I’m sure you’re a good student at school right?” Fei nodded, they were a great student. They always listened to the teachers and stayed obedient with them at all times.

“So why can’t you fucking listen to me, bitch!” Harry slapped Fei’s cunt a couple of tmes before shoving his fingers back inside of them and repeatedly curling them in a “come here” motion. “Take my fucking fingers! Scream and cry all you want, I don’t care. Just fucking take it,” he voiced drawing out at the end as he continued his previous motions with their clit to his mouth.

Then, Fei felt something build up inside of them- felt like they had to pee. “Harryyy,” they called out to him, drawing out the last syllable of his name, “Harry, I think I have to pee.”

Harry kept circling his tongue around their clit, his fingers thrusting in and out at a pace that was too fast for Fei to handle. When he heard Fei cry out about having to pee, he knew what was really happening. “It’s okay, honey, just let it out for me,” he said, continuing with his motions.

But Fei protested, pushing at the top of his head for him to stop. “Harry, I really need to go, please stop!” But Harry ignored them.

Instead of stopping, Harry pushed down at Fei’s lower stomach, intensifying their feelings. He was pushing at their bladder, almost like he was encouraging them to pee on him. Fei kept their thoughts to themselves, wondering why he wanted them to pee. But, they let out the loudest moan of the afternoon so far as they released onto Harry’s face.

When Harry noticed the substance pumping out of their urethra, he quickly moved his mouth around the entrance of it. He wanted to drink up everything Fei shot out.

Fei was so scared at this moment. Harry was drinking their urine! How could he do that? But as they continued to observe the scene, they noticed the liquid wasn’t as yellow as pee. So, of course, they asked their older stepbrother, “What- what was that?”

Harry gulped up the last bits that poured out of her, licking his lips of every drop that landed there. He smiled up at Fei and reached his hands up to the sides of their abdomen, caressing their love handles in a soothing way. “That wasn’t pee, Fei. That was-” he paused for a second trying to think of a fun phrase to call it, “That was horny juice.”

Fei tilted their head to the side as they heard the phrase. “Horny juice? Is that a good thing?”

Harry was lying to them again, of course. He knew it was pee, more specifically squirt, but didn’t want to tell them that. He liked the fact that Fei was so naïve, so innocent. He continued, “Yeah, it’s horny juice. It comes out of the little hole on top of the bigger one right here,” he rubbed their pussy as he spoke to emphasize what he was referring to, “and it comes out when people are feeling horny. And since weed can make people horny, like you are, it makes them pump the juice out even more. Kind of like how you just did.” He smiled at the end of explanation, swirling his finger around Fei’s cunt to get some of their juices onto it. “You want a taste? It’s really healthy. Makes you feel real good.”

Fei bent their head a bit to reach for Harry’s finger. They were intrigued to taste their horny juice, wondering how good it really could be since it came out of her little pee hole. They moaned at the flavor. “Wow, you’re right, Harry!” Harry was pleased with himself as he heard them say this. He watched as they sucked up every drop from his finger. If only they knew how taboo this was, them sucking their own orgasm off of the fingers of their older stepbrother who was just fingering them.

“Well, thank you, Harry,” Fei said, getting up from the bed. “You really helped me out a lot.”

Harry was confused by the sudden change of mood. “Wh-what?”

Fei smiled and made their way to his door. “I don’t think I’m horny anymore. I don’t feel those symptoms you mentioned before, and you got all my horny juice out!” They smiled as they felt so pleased with themselves and the fact that they were able to have an orgasm. It was their first one, and the fact that they were able to do it with their lovely step-brother’s help was all the more rewarding.

But Harry wasn’t pleased. Yes, he was able to make his step sibling cum, that was good. But, he didn’t cum, and Harry hated when he didn’t cum.  In fact, he decided he wasn’t done with them. So he made his way in front of his bedroom door, blocking Fei’s path from exiting.

Fei looked up at him, quite confused by his actions. “Um, Harry, I have to go now,” they said with a quiver in their voice.

Harry grabbed Fei by the shoulders, rubbing them a bit. “No, you’re staying in here.”

Fei tried to shake their shoulders in a way that could remove themselves from Harry’s grasp, but to no avail. “Harry, no, I wanna go!”

Harry scoffed and rolled his eyes as he lifted Fei up. “I’m not done with you yet, Fei.” He dropped them back onto the bed, back into the same missionary position, holding Fei’s legs apart with each of his hands on each of their thighs. His grip was much tighter than before which made Fei wince in pain. “You see, when boys get horny, they need to have an orgasm, too.” Harry let go of one of Fei’s thighs, using the one hand to unzip his pants. “It’s just a bit different than someone with your parts. See?” He pulled down both his pants and his underwear, and placed his hand on top of his hard cock. The tip was red and dripping of precum, hinting at his need for release. Harry pointed his cock at Fei’s dripping entrance as he continued, “We need to get our horny juices out, too” He slapped the tip of his cock onto Fei’s pussy a couple of times, making them groan at the feeling. “Even if it means they have fuck the shit out of their virgin, younger stepsibling”.

Fei took a second to process Harry’s words until they realized what was happening. Harry was going to have actual sex with them. That was his penis, and it was about to go inside their vagina. And their thoughts were confirmed as Harry shoved himself into their cunt, making them scream out in agony.

Harry didn’t waste time to begin his thrusts. He wanted to hear every scream, see every tear, feel every section of Fei’s walls rip apart to take him. He listened to Fei’s screams as he continued his thrusts, and it got him harder than he already was, which he thought was impossible. It was something about Fei that just did something to him. They made him a different person.

“Harry, stop! It’s too big please!” Fei yelled at him, trying to push his body away with as much force as their much smaller frame could do. But, Harry took that as a challenge and thrusted inside them even deeper.

“But, you’re taking it like a champ, love!” Harry exclaimed as he continued his little thrusts to fit himself inside of them. “Why would I stop?” They were so tight, but Harry would make it work. He saw a spot of blood stain the shaft of his cock, probably from Fei losing their virginity in such a sudden way, but this only gave him more confidence fo fuck into Fei harder.

Meanwhile, Fei was in pain. “Please, Harry! It hurts!” Fei screamed as their body rocked with every thrust Harry gave them. It was so forceful, and the concerning pain between their legs was too much for them.

“Alright, I guess I’ll make it a bit easier for you,” he said as he brought his thumb down to their clit. It started to rub them in circles, making Fei’s screams turn into pure moans of pleasure. Fei moaned out loud, and Harry’s ears rang. As much as he loved to hear their moans, Fei was screaming a little too much. They started to become more harrowing. They almost- just almost- made Harry feel guilty for what he was doing. But that didn’t stop him.

Harry got himself into a mating press, digging his cock deeper into Fei’s cunt, making Fei scream even louder. So, Harry grabbed their neck with both hands, not only to shut Fei up, but to also use it as leverage for him to fuck into them deeper and harder. All Fei could hear at that moment was the sound of skin slapping and Harry’s animalistic growl. They tried to scream and even breathe, but after a couple attempts failed, so they laid there limp and their cunt just took his cock with every thrust.

“I don’t give a fuck about what you’re trying to say- just take my fucking cock, whore,” he said, making his thrusts more impactful and much deeper than before. His pubis constantly hit against theirs, the vibrations of the impacts spreading to Fei’s clit and maximizing their pleasure. Fei just laid in the bed, taking it all.

But Harry didn’t care about Fei's pleasure at this moment. He was too caught up in finding his own and building up to his release. “You smoked my blunt and got yourself horny like a fucking slut. You deserve what I’m giving to you. You should be fuckin’ thankful.” He thought for a moment, before continuing, “Y’know what? Say thank you.”

“Wh- What?” Fei stuttered.

Harry stopped his thrusts and leaned over Fei’s body to bring his face to theirs. He grabbed onto their jaw and spat directly onto their cheek. Fei whined as it made contact. “Use your ears!” he yelled at her, slapping the same cheek. “Are you fuckin’ deaf? Jeez…” He went back to his thrusts, but they were deeper and slower. He wanted Fei to feel every inch of his length inside of them, tearing them apart from the inside. “I said thank your step brother for helping you have an orgasm”

“Th- thank you, Harry, for ma-” They felt a sting to their cheek, stopping them in their tracks.

Harry wasn’t satisfied. “No, no, no, say ‘thank you for fucking me and making me cum on your big cock, stepbrother.’”

Fei took a couple of seconds to process his words, their brain still fuzzy and cheeks still running with tears, but finally gained the strength to speak again. “Thank you for fucking me and m- making me cum on your big cock, stepbrother,” they said, forcing a smile on their face as they said it.

Harry evilly smirked, satisfied with Fei, as he started to increase the velocity of his thrusts, his balls hitting against Fei’s ass as he did so. “You’re so good to me, Fei,” He said with a growl. “Takin’ me so well, draining me out.”

Fei shook on the bed as Harry fucked them, and their screams were again shushed as Harry wrapped one of his hands around their neck and pressed down. Harry let out an evil cackle and spat on Fei’s face again, barely missing their lips, before he spoke, “Imagine what your dad would think about all this? What he would say about you smoking like a naughty and disobedient child. He would look at you so differently, right baby?” Harry cooed at the end of his statement, almost to rub it in to hurt Fei’s feelings. Fei cried and tears were running down their face, but their grip around Harry’s cock became tighter, forcing Harry to take harder thrusts.

“You’re fucking your stepbrother for fuck’s sake, Fei! How dirty of you! You must feel like such a slut right?” Harry looked down into Fei’s eyes, and Fei could notice how dark his irises became. “Say it,” he commanded them. “Scream out loud about how much of a dirty slag you are!”

Fei sniffled the mucus running down their nose as they continued crying. They managed to scream out, “I’m such a slut, Harry!” They were ashamed of themselves for feeling so good. “I’m so sorry I’m a filthy slut! Please don’t tell my Dad.”

Harry bent down and used his tongue to lick the tears from Fei’s face, never quitting his thrusts. They were salty but so good. “I won’t tell your Dad, honey; it will be our little secret. It would probably give him a heart attack anyway. And don’t be sorry, sweetheart. I can tell you’re lying about not liking being slutty. You’re squeezing me so tightly! And you loved how my tongue felt on your little parts right here, right?” he patted his hand on their pussy and rubbed on it a bit to emphasize where he meant. Fei nodded, but continued to cry.

Then, the younger sibling’s stomach tightened again and they felt the sensation they did when they released their horny juice before. Harry felt their cunt tighten around him even more, knowing that their orgasm was coming, and brought his hand to their lower stomach to press down on it like he did before when he was eating them out. “Um, Harry, the juices are coming out ag-” they screamed before they could warn him, and their squirt landed right onto his torso. Harry felt the liquid launch onto him, causing him to cum almost immediately afterward. “Fuck, Fei! Take my cum, love. Fuck!”

Fei couldn’t even feel Harry’s cum squirt inside of them as they were busy trying to calm themselves from their own orgasm. Harry could see his own cum leak from their cunt, and the sight was so delicious. They wanted to lick them out again, but decided against it as he thought it might have been too much for them. Instead, he pulled out of them, his dick softening as the last of his cum squirted out. He laid next to Fei onto the bed and sighed.

Harry looked over at Fei, whose face seemed surprisingly elated. “Um, you alright?”

Fei smiled at him. “I liked what we were doing. It felt good, especially at the end. That was the orgasm, right?”

Harry nodded, “Yep, that’s what that was.” He was surprised Fei liked it. He literally laced them and forced them to take his cock. But he guessed he shouldn’t think about it too hard.

Fei managed to take a good look at their cunt, surveying the damage that had been done. It had some weird creamy substance dripping out of their hole. “Is the white stuff your orgasm?”

“Yeah, that’s my cum.” Harry quickly moved on, not exactly wanting to answer any more questions. He valued Fei’s innocence too much.  “You wanna do what we did again some other time?”

Fei laughed and blushed at his question. “Yeah, only if you’re up for it though! Even without the weed!”

“Maybe we could try things other than weed, too!,” He suggested, causing Fei to laugh again and walk out of his room, “Bye, Harry!”

[ppeonppeonhan]

Which BL Couple do you want to see in a Sequel?

And not just a cameo or an Our Skyy 2-episode arc.

HIStory 3: Trapped (2019, above) - I want to keep seeing how their relationship works as their morals clash.

Bad Buddy (2021) - I know we risk ruining a good thing and that we got the Our Skyy episodes, but I could watch more of these two as they learn to nurture their relationship in spite of the negativity surrounding them.

Not Me (2021) - There is SO much that can be done in this universe with these twin rebel characters. They should absolutely revive it as LGBTQIA legislation and police corruption evolves in Thailand.

Love is Science? (2021, above) - I could watch 12 whole episodes of Ou Wen learning to trust playboy bi Mark.

Semantic Error (2022, top) - Park Seoham returns from military service later this year, but IDK. I feel like there's not much else to explore here. Loved every minute of it though.

KinnPorsche (2022) - This is another couple that I feel ran its course. I would sooner watch a spinoff of Kim and Chay, even though I think Jeff Satur is more interested in music these days, because I need to know if Kim loved Chay or if he just pitied him. Plus, Kim is next-gen mob boss and I'd love to see it. And while I did enjoy Pete & Vegas, it appears we are still up in the air about whether the actor who played Pete...is a piece of sh*t. What a plot twist?

Love in the Air (2022) - Both couples contributed some of the best sex scenes to BL history, but I doubt there's more story to tell.

The Eighth Sense (2023) - They fucked me all the way up. 😭 Made To My Star 2 seem like a cake walk. I need a sequel just to know where this is going.

[novasdarling]

Ok this will probably sound like a weird request, but maybe Mahito as some type of dark fey/fairy that likes to deceive and hurt humans, and he ends up capturing a very naive reader? Sorry if it's too much specific, either way I just love how you write him

It doesn't sound weird at all! I sorta dialled it down(I kept rewriting this ask and idky), so I just kinda leaned in more with forest monster being able to handle this one human(reader) and hating others.

Though I will say your request now makes me wanna write for other characters and him as fairy/elves creatures... Hmmm

Forest Creature

TW: Monster. Kidnapping, Drugging(with a plant), Female Reader.

The woods could get dark and dangerous when you ventured too far. Predators, unclear paths, the threats you were cautioned about growing up. The warning words of your parents vanished as you embarked further. It would be fine, it always was. You always tended to make your way back home, no matter how far you went. Coming back with a full basket of berries, roots, and herbs. After the first few times, people would question your ability less and less when they saw you emerge from the woods with a full basket. Many assumed you just had an innate skill for foraging and navigating the woods. It was best to let them think that, rather than revealing the truth. That it wasn't you, that you had no real skills in the woods. Rather it was all thanks to Mahito. A strange man-creature who seemed to take pity on you the day when you were lost in the woods all those weeks ago.

Mahito was a tall slender man. Taller than any man you had ever met. Most of the time you found him leaning towards you when you spoke. Bending down so his face was now aligned with yours. He made you feel so small, yet by the looks of him. It appeared you had more weight to yourself than him. So tall yet so slim. One of the features that captured your attention during the first encounter. There was no helping the stares when you first spotted him. He seemed so terrifying, yet at the same time. You couldn't peel your eyes away. You watched him move around the trees. Picking plants and mushrooms. Stuffing his pockets filled with various plants and twigs.

Mahito's clothes were another peculiar part of him. They were none you had seen. Or at least, none that were styled properly. Sometimes his clothes appeared more human-like, but the first time you met him. His clothes looked made out of natural material. Moss detailed his pants and shirt. Climbing into his hair. You were sure if he stood still enough, he would blend in with some of the plants and trees around him.

He seemed so awkward that day, bending under branches. Letting his arms reach further than they should have. It was marvelling and uneasy watching him. Especially when the sun had peaked through the treetops. Shining down on the grass and him. That was when you noticed his skin. It wasn't any colour you had seen on a living being before. Rather it reminded you of the bodies of those who died from the great sickness years ago. You were just a child, but those images were burnt into your mind. The way the bodies lay in the mass grave. Too many dying to hold individual funerals. Their bodies lay cold and pale in the grave. Some in makeshift coffins, others loose in the ground. Some had died so long ago their skin had turned a cold pale grey and began peeling. While others had only been dead a few hours. Still appearing to have some life to them. Mahito looked like a cross between the two. Skin pale with a hint of grey, but still flushed and holding life. It appeared like he was toying with the line between life and death.

That day, he had caught you staring behind a tree. Lurking towards you before you figured out he knew you were there. Fear had coursed through your veins when he stared at you, hastily moving towards you. Your feet wouldn't run, but then what use would that be. He was so fast and his limbs were longer than yours. He would have no problem with retrieving you. However, when he did. He didn't harm you, he didn't curse you. No, he was kind and sweet in such an unnatural way, but it was still welcomed. Since then, you had met him almost every day to gather alongside him. He was your trick for foraging. Your walking, talking being of knowledge.

Today was like the others. Making your way through the dark woods. Trying to get to your usual meeting spot. It was the same location you had met him all that time ago. A nice area with plenty of plants to search through. Following the path, Mahito had shown you, avoiding every raised root or rock. It was a miracle that the first few times you went this way, you hadn't gotten seriously hurt. Though as you made your way through, you couldn't help, but get what you had heard earlier out of your head. Your neighbours had warned you today before you left. Not the usual warning of being careful in the woods. No, this was more. They had warned you about the missing people from other villages who shared the same woods. It would seem there had been a few people who had gone missing in the last few months. News only reaching your home now. You would need to warn Mahito about it. Fearing some bear or wolf had gone hungry and was now hunting anything it could find.

It wasn't long until you arrived, only to already see Mahito already there, sitting on a rock. Gazing at something in his hand. He always had some odd trinkets to show and give you. Some had been hair pins, and bracelets, while others you had never seen before. Beautiful little novelties Mahito would show and tell you about. Though always vague about how he had gotten it. Unclear on how he had come to collect some human items.

"Mahito" You waved as you walked towards him.

Mahito looked up, giving you a toothy smile as he watched you walk toward him. Had his teeth always been so, pointed? Sometimes you felt like no matter how many times you looked at him, there would always be something new.

"You're back?" He had stood up, pocketing what was in his hands and making his way to you. "Good, it's been too long."

Mahito had wrapped his arms around you. Bending himself over you in order to pull you close. Wrapping you completely in his embrace. He had to bend over almost completely in order to embrace. Though, he always did more than needed. Always engulfed you more than what was required for a hug from friends. It oddly felt more intimate than you cared for, but then again. He clearly wasn't fully human, chalking it up to him not knowing better.

"I missed you, my dear." He was pushing his face into your hair. Inhaling your scent.

"Hmmm, yeah? I missed you too." You let out an awkward laugh, trying to push him off of you to no avail. "Can we sit? I need to tell you something?"

Mahito let go reluctantly. Though his hand never left your body as he brought you to a log nearby. Taking a seat, only for him to pull you close down beside him. The way Mahito looked at you always made you anxious in some bizarre way. It was filled with an intensity like he was trying to see every thought you had with just a look. Yet, there was also another side to it. Curiosity, such intrigue with every word you said. With every move you made. It seemed like he wanted nothing more than to watch it all. You wouldn't admit it, but it was nice to be admired. Even if it was from him.

"Mahito, my family and friends are becoming nervous about me entering the woods now." Mahito narrowed his eyes at you, already knowing he wouldn't like where this was going. "You see, umm, there have been some people going missing in neighbouring villages."

You missed the change in Mahito's expression as you rambled on. Trying to explain your and other's concern. How you would need to limit your trips to him, or if there were more reports in the next few weeks. Perhaps you would need to stop completely for a while.

"There is nothing to fear." Mahito sounded so confident. "No one from your village has been hurt or has gone, right?" You nodded. "Then there's no worry. You are safe with me."

Staring at Mahito, knowing there was no arguing with him. He was always set in his ways. Hopefully, he would understand the severity of the reports. Understand that you aren't like him. You are at the mercy of the woods and every being living within it. A reality you never thought he would understand, but he did. He truly grasped your vulnerability, but would never let you know.

Mahito dropped the topic. Instead, leading you through the day's actions, showing you new plants he had found, and telling you their uses. Helping you fill your bag with food and herbs for medication. You marvelled at his ability. Looking at him like he was a god among men. A look he loved and would do anything to gain and keep.

Hours had passed. The sky was beginning to get darker. Indicating you would need to get home before you couldn't see your way anymore. Parting with Mahito was a difficult process. He would drag out the goodbye, insisting there was still more to collect and look for. It was better to start before you actually needed to go.

"Mahito, it's getting dark."

"Oh," Mahito looked at the sky. "You're right."

This was strange. Any other time when you mentioned the sky or the nearing of darkness. He would always insist you were wrong, that there was more. More time or more things to do, yet here he was. Agreeing with you for the first time.

"Before you go. Here."

Mahito opened your palm, placing something in it before closing your hand. Wrapping both of his around yours. Opening your hand, taking a look at what he had given you. It was a plant of some sort. A green stem connected to a small pale blue flower. The shapes of the petals were different. You'd never seen a flower like this before. They appeared pointed at the end before twirling in on themselves. It was extremely beautiful. Before you could ask anything about it, Mahito spoke.

"Eat it."

"What?"

"Eat it. Eat it."

Mahito lifted your hand with the flower to your mouth for you. There was no real-time or a chance to not do as he wanted. The flower was shoved in your mouth. For a moment you stood like that. His hand wrapped around your wrist. Flower in your mouth, simply sitting on your tongue. Unsure of what to do. Did he really want you to eat it?

"Chew and swallow."

It looked like he really did.

For a moment you just stared. The longer Mahito looked at you, the more you were convinced to follow his orders. You knew it would be best to just do as he says. It was most likely one of his herbs that would help you stay healthy during illness season. He tended to know when an illness would strike before anyone in your village did. Taking in your assumption, you chewed and swallowed the flower.

"Good girl." Mahito brushed his knuckles against your cheek.

You questioned what it was. Wondering if you were right. However, you weren't met with an answer. Not a real one, not one you wanted. Rather, he just gazed at you. Smiling down at you while his touch didn't leave. Finally, words left his lips.

"It's something from where I'm from. Something that makes you belong."

Before you could question him, your head felt heavy. It felt like you weren't able to hold it up anymore. It was quick and sudden. You weren't prepared for it.

"Ma-Mahito, I-I"

"What is it? You don't look so well."

You were so concentrated on staying upright that you missed the look on his face. The way he smiled, it wasn't filled with softness like it usually was with you. No, it was loaded with malice and delight now. Like he was the happiest he had ever been with you. Delighted by your willingness, by the way you trusted him so. How you simply did what he said with little hesitation. It was a breath of fresh air. Humans could be so stubborn and cruel, but you weren't. You were something else, something different. Not like those other humans who had crossed his path. They had been cruel, taking from the earth without caring, without giving back. They deserved what occurred to them. It was a shame his work was posing a threat of keeping you away from him, but not anymore. No, you were his.

As you began to give into the plant, falling into his arms. Shutting your eyes, it was easier than trying to stay awake, than staying upright. Your trust in this strange creature would be your end. It would be how you become the first in your village to go missing. To fall victim to the woods. However, unlike the rest. You would survive. After all, if he thought you were like the rest, you would have been dead long before you saw him that day. He had shown and given you so much. This would your way of saying thank you. Of giving back and he knows you'd agree with it when you wake later. After all, he had taught you the importance of giving. Of making sure you replace what you take. You had taken him, made him love you. Now, he was taking you. His dear little human.

[bwabys-scenarios]

Hi! Can I request more of chubby!wife with Feitan? Some comfort please and spicey stuff. Thanks you!

Sweethearts

Feitan x Chubby!Reader

warnings: creampie, pussy eating

A/N: this is old so I’m banishing it from my drafts!! it’s a lil rushed, sorry!

taglist: @desiray562 @lovelyxkazuha @ashdownunderscorebeloved

if you would like to be added to the NSFW taglist, comment a ❤️!! make sure you have your AGE in your bio, and that you’re able to be tagged/mentioned!

It had been a tough day for his poor little wife, he could tell by her aura.

Usually when Feitan got home, especially after a long mission, (Name) was jumping up to greet him, the man catching her in his arms and spinning her around while planting a kiss on her forehead.

But that morning when he finally returned after being away for a week, his wife was nowhere in sight. He could sense her, thankfully, but she hadn’t left their room to greet him this time.

“(Name)?” Feitan called out, knocking on the bedroom door.

“Come in sweetheart.”

His heart fluttered at the pet name. They had only been together a year or so, and he was still getting used to how affectionate she was.

Feitan opened the door and peered in, seeing his little wife curled up underneath their comforter, her eyes puffy and red. He was quick to sit next to her, running his hand over her air. “Cry? Why cry?”

Her lip quivered as she looked up at him, and his heart hurt seeing her so upset. Usually, (Name) always had a pep in her step, smiling as her soft hips swayed to music no one else could here.

It’s why he fell in love with her, she was kind and nice to be around, always there for him despite his short comings.

“I… had another bad day at work…”

He scowled behind his jacket. “What this time?”

She looked away, rubbing at her teary eyes. “That woman… m-my coworker keeps saying such mean things to me. I don’t know what I did to get on her bad side but she won’t leave me alone…”

Feitan’s grip tightened on her, causing his little wife to yelp. Upon her little yelp of pain, he eased his grip, kissing her forehead. “She stupid, jealous woman. Can’t stand to see you happy.”

(Name) nodded slowly, the dark haired man moving his hand down between her legs. “Beautiful wife, make you feel better.”

She squeaked when his fingers slipped beneath her panties, rubbing her plump pussy lips before finding her clit. “F-Fei, ahh!”

He shushed her, pulling his wife into his lap to make his actions easier. Even after being married for nearly a year, she was still so shy when it came to intimacy. Feitan didn’t mind though, it was cute to him.

“Wet already, wife needed some attention. Give it to her.”

He purrs against his neck, pulling his fingers from her pussy and shoving them in her mouth. (Name) whimpers against his fingers, lapping up her juices and sucking gently. “Good girl, deserves reward..”

Feitan pushed her onto the bed, prying her thighs apart and slotting himself between them. It had been nearly two months since he got to see his beloved wife under him like this. “Gorgeous…”

He tore her underwear off, lifting up her shirt just enough to see her boobs as he thrusted into her. He loved the way she bounced and jiggled when he pounded into her soft pussy, it made him cum pathetically quick if he didn’t pace himself.

“No listen to work women, listen to husband. I love you, don’t need anyone else.”

“Y-yes Fei!”

He always enjoyed watching her come undone on his cock, and despite having a hard exterior, Feitan was rather soft for his wife. “Cum for me, (Name).”

She came around him, squeezing his cock. He found himself spilling inside of her soon after, collapsing into her soft chest. “Mmph…”

He could really get lost in her soft, plush body. It was what attracted to him so much next to her sweet personality. (Name) panted beneath him, hugging him. “I love you too, Fei… thank you, I feel a lot better now.”

And that’s all he could want, his wife happy and satisfied. At the end of the day, Feitan truly was a good and loving husband, even if no one besides (Name) knew it.