#i was fed so much that i no longer felt the grip of needing to create my own trantjean content (i had a fic planned and outlined lmao)

[mauvecherie-writes]

a tortured touch: l.hamilton.

• pairing: lewis hamilton x black!reader

• ru’s 💌: this is just a filler, something to get my toes back into the game. I haven’t written something in full in weeks so this is not edited. don’t forget to show your love as always. I missed you guys 🫶🏾.

• tags: 18+ NSFW, MDNI, pwp, dry humping, dirty talk, slight nipple play. this is smut from beginning to end so if you’re uncomfortable please do not read.

• w.c: 1.1K

hubby’s masterlist

“I missed you.’ He mumbled into your ear as his strong arms tightened around your waist. You dropped your head onto his shoulder and sighed as you felt his lips brush against your skin.

“I missed you too, baby.” You whispered as you felt his pelvis pressing into your ass. Evidence of his longing carving into your flesh. A giggle left your mouth as Lewis let you go so that you could turn around and face him.

“How much did you miss me?” He asked. You could hear the teasing and lust in his voice.

“The videos weren’t enough for you?’” You smirked as you wrapped your arms around his neck and began weaving your fingers into his hair. He groaned, closing his eyes as he tipped his head back. Lewis loved it when you played with his hair. Your touch was all that he craved and being away from you for more than a month had been torture.

“I need the real thing.” Lewis murmured as he opened his eyes and looked down at you. His hands then focused on pulling the ties of your robe. His lips found their way to your shoulders as he pushed the fabric away.

Lewis cursed as your naked body was revealed to him and he wasted no time in cupping your breasts into his palms and teased your nipples.

His petting was getting heavier and you were shifting from side to side as your wetness began to grow.

“Lewis.” You whimpered his name and that was all that he needed to wrap his arm around your waist and pick you up. But you couldn’t wait any longer - you locked your lips with his and as he tried to make his way to the bedroom, he gripped your ass.

As your core rubbed against his lower stomach, the both of you knew that you would not make it that far.

“Couch.” You whispered. You were too wet and the need that was tightening in your abdomen fed into your desperation. Lewis laid you on the soft couch and he quickly stripped out of his shirt and pushed his sweatpants past his hips.

As he was trying to work on discarding his boxers, you couldn’t wait any longer and pulled him back to you. Your sex pulsated as his kisses alone seemed to possess you and fed the insatiable hunger that had been growing during the weeks apart.

Lewis’s tongue darted into your mouth and a deep sound of satisfaction left him as he tasted you. With arms locked around his head, you tried to press yourself into his body, craving him so much. Your hips rolled up, rubbing your clit against him through the fabric of his boxers.

He smirked into the kiss as he picked you up once more and changed your positions so that you were straddling him.

You sucked on his tongue and grinded your hips into his with such wanton aggression.

“Fuck, sweetheart. You feel so good.” Lewis groaned as his hands dug into your flesh. The lustful desperation in the movements from the both of you left him throbbing. Each sweet drag off your hips sent shocks through his dick and settled in his balls. The friction caused a buildup of tentalising pleasure to reside within him.

His hands moved up your rib cage to then cup your breasts, pinching your nipples in between his fingers and tug. The acute pain caused you to gasp and then a shudder ran down your spine and nestled in the pit of your stomach.

Lewis loved the fact that your nipples were so sensitive and toying with them was the easiest way to get you worked up.

Your wetness was seeping through the cloth separating you but neither of you cared. There was something so devastatingly arousing about dry humping. It spoke to the despair of missing each other, of the exigency that your hearts had.

He then sat up and placed one leg on the carpet to stabilise himself as he held onto your back and paid extra attention onto your chest. As his lips were wrapped around one nipple - sucking on it, the other nipple was trapped by his thumb and pointer finger. All that you could do was whimper and roll your hips faster and faster as he wreaked havoc on your sensitive buds.

“God, you’re dripping so much, I don’t need to take off my boxers to feel it.” Lewis grumbled against your chest. His hand then came to your lower back and began to lead your movement which caused your clit to now be in direct contact with the weeping tip of his dick.

You loudly groaned as your eyes crossed before rolling to the back of your head as the friction became sweeter and sweeter.

“I wish you could be sitting on my face right now. Working yourself on my nose and tongue as I drink every drop of this creamy pussy, that’s all mine.” He spoke with a candidness that made goosebumps rise on your skin. “I can tell you’re about to come. Keep working yourself on me, you’re so fucking sexy.” He whispered as a moan left him. The imagery that he had described was so vivid and burned you from the inside - leaving you breathless.

You leaned down and captured his lips in a soft and gentle kiss. In contrast to the frantic grinding on your hips in tangent with his. Your fingers clutched his shoulders as your toes curled as the knot in your stomach began to unravel.

“Lew-.” You moaned as your eyes screwed shut. He locked his arms around you as your rolls became more feverish.

“I know sweetheart. Give it to me!” His mumble was carried into your ear with his harsh panting.

“Baby!” A whimper left you, the word barely left your mouth as the sensation rocked your body as it exploded into compulsive spasms. Lewis held you as he erupted in his boxers - his orgasm crashing into his loins as he buzzed from the sensation.

For a moment, you sat there holding onto each other. Lewis then turned his head and placed a kiss onto your shoulder as his hands came back to your ass and kneaded your assets.

“You know that this is your first of the night right?” He said which caused you to giggle.

“Yeah I know. Can I take a moment to breathe first?” You replied which caused him to chuckle. When his laughter stopped, you turned your head and captured his lips into a heated kiss.

You moaned into his mouth before you nipped at his bottom lip which caused a low groan to escape him.

“Take me to bed.”

“With pleasure.”

reading list: @queenshikongo3 @dhlfastestlap @saintslewis @serpenttines-library @saturnville @hopefulromantic1 @cocobutterqwueen @bluesole16 @melodichaeuxx-lacritquexx @sapphireheaven @olyvoyl @lewisroscoelove @lh44adore @hellomadamebutterfly @scorpiobleue @qveenmelanink @tremendousstarlighttragedy @bekindbecoolbeyou @greedyjudge2 @itsapurrfectstorm @createdbylivingclocks @samiwzx @omgsuperstarg @peyiswriting @miyuhpapayuh @blowmymbackout @purplelewlew @henneseyhoe @perfecttrashface @alianovnaromanovanatalia @leilaxaliel @sageispunk @2serenity0 @gemii-n-tay @aluapla

[rapturously]

Dwayne or David facesitting. Period. Like, vampires don't need to breathe! Hell, let em stay down there for hours. Also, am I too gross or crazy to think about having fun during that time of the month? 🩸

blood moon.

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. | dwayne (the lost boys) x fem!reader

𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐌𝐀𝐓. | drabble — requested.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓. | 3.7K.

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒. | SMUT (mdni), dubious consent (mild coercion) cunnilingus, oral sex (f!receiving), reader is on their period, bloodplay (lots of it, he’s a vampire), facesitting, biting, hair-pulling, pet names (mama, girl, sweet girl), dwayne is hungry and he’s nasty, kissing, vampire antics, possessive dwayne, Dwayne is a little selfish in this

𝐀𝐔𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑’𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. | wow ,,, a fic three days in a row ??? you can tell I’m hyperfixated because I’ll produce a ton of content very rapidly. Also, I love dwayne so much, he’s my daddy. ALSO — please keep sending me horny requests for the lost boys, I’m being fed !!! also, hello to all of my new followers & tlb fellows :)) love y’all and hope you enjoy!

A blood moon — it was a humorous term that your mother used to use for your menstrual cycle, something that you’d grown to despise with every fiber of your being. It was another unfortunate shackle of humanity, a reminder that you were still flesh and blood. Whenever your time of the month came about, you were always tempted to beg David for a sip of that forbidden wine.

The oppressive heat of the cavernous labyrinth that the boys dwelled within had felt somewhat comforting to you as you curled up on Dwayne’s makeshift bed, form contorted into the fetal position. A slow, agonizing pain spread throughout your lower abdomen, making your muscles feel weak and useless.

Sunset was just upon the horizon as you struggled to endure the suffering that you were forced into with each passing month. The mattress felt cool and smooth underneath your cheek, having abandoned the scattered pillows in favor of awaiting your demise. You wanted to sob, biting at the inside of your cheek, teeth scraping against flesh as your fists balled into the blanket.

Everything hurt — what began as a dull ache soon manifested into a pain that gripped your entire body. Your back was sore, head throbbing, and your insides felt as if they were being stirred around by the hand of another. You clenched your teeth, not wanting to move from your spot, anchored to your slice of space.

Once dusk fell, the vampires you’d been living with came to life, no longer hanging from the rafters of some dark, damp alcove. You could heat Marko and Paul’s guffaws and laughter, accompanied by David’s stern, tempered remarks. It all served as idle background noise, prompting you to close your eyes.

The noise dissipated — it was too quick for your liking. Silence settled in, save for the faint rustling of ambience within the cave, combined with something rattling around out in the remnants of the old lobby.

As much as you didn’t want to move, you sluggishly rolled out of bed, discomforted by the sensation of sloshing liquid rushing between your legs. It was the worst part of your cycle — the unpleasant sensations, the feeling of being wholly unclean. You draped a blanket around you, hobbling from Dwayne’s roost.

Strong, veined hands were buried within the grease-laden guts of a motorcycle, dismantling a variety of components. The vehicle was partially dismantled, stripped down to the metal underbelly. Dwayne’s dark tresses were disheveled from slumber, parts of scrap scattered around him. An elongated, metal screw was lodged between his teeth as he concentrated on his work.

He could smell you long before you’d crept into the lobby, but he hadn’t expected to see you in such a downtrodden state. Dwayne was often respectful of your space, especially during your cycle. It wasn’t something he would ever endure, but watching you writhe and suffer wasn’t entirely enjoyable, either.

“Dwayne?” You croaked, awkwardly shuffling across outcroppings of debris and dirt, draped in your shoddy sheet as you spotted your boyfriend. There was something beautiful about him, particularly when he practiced his hobby of playing mechanic. Specks of black oil lined his forearms and fingertips.

Without missing a beat, Dwayne turned to look at you, hazel hues drinking you in with reverence and concern. Dark brows furrowed together as he abandoned his current project, grabbing at the tattered, red cloth that rode around within his back pocket. “Hey,” That familiar baritone held a subtle warmth to it. “What’s wrong, Mama?”

You knew that he knew, but he still asked you nonetheless. As he swiped away at the oil and pungent grease, Dwayne stepped closer toward you, stooping down to press a kiss against the top of your head. You smelled wonderful, natural sweetness intermingled with that of your menses.

“Everything,” You exhaled, shuddering when his large palm splayed out across your back, rubbing soothing circles into your sore flesh. “Where are the others?” Admittedly, it was a bit unusual to see Dwayne alone without the company of the pack.

“Hunting,” Dwayne confirmed, and without hesitation, he hooked a strong, taut arm underneath your legs, hoisting you up as he carried you like a blushing bride. Cradling you against his chiseled chest, he made sure you were back in bed, where you belonged. “I was worried about you.” He confessed, laying you back against the mattress.

His throat was burning — a fire so intense that he wanted to scream, but Dwayne was rather talented at smothering his hunger for the good of another. His thirst would be extinguished soon enough, whenever he could leave the cave to find unsuspecting tourists. He sat down along the edge of the bed, hand massaging into your thigh.

Guilt rippled through you, knowing that Dwayne had abandoned the hunt to tend to you, this fragile human. His brows furrowed together — he must’ve been reading your thoughts. “I’m sorry. You should go feed.” You encouraged him, despite keening into the comforting chill of his hand.

Dwayne’s mind had gone elsewhere — there was a way that he could feed without having to abandon you. Of course, it was purely self-gratifying and your best interests were secondary to his starvation, which crawled across his stomach, burning a hole through him. He kept quiet, gingerly massaging your leg with his hand, which drifted towards the swell of your hips.

He didn’t like seeing you this way, agonized and letting yourself sit in the suffering. “If there was something that I could do to help, would you let me?” Dwayne asked, gazing down at you with an incendiary look. It was distinct, reminding you of the plethora of times he’d seduced you. Your stomach lurched, insides feeling as if they were withering away.

Your expression was somewhat quizzical, lips parting slightly as you reached for his arm. He was so much bigger than you — the strongest of the pack, urging you closer until his fingers could sweep away the hair framing your visage. That thick, coppery swarm of blood invaded his nostrils, singing his throat yet again.

“What do you have in-mind?” You asked, somewhat hesitant as he caged you in between his arms, bending down to press a hungry kiss to your lips. Sex was the furthest thing on your mind, but you relented, moaning into his mouth as you reached for his dark tresses.

Dwayne was a phenomenal kisser — passionate and slow, as if he were savoring every second of it. Though, he had a tendency to let it whirlwind into something ravenous and primal, fitting for the quiet, stoic vampire. He exhaled, kissing you with a thinly-veiled desire, hand moving to cup your jaw.

“Could take the pain away.” He uttered, withdrawing from your lips with an indiscernible expression. Dwayne was always difficult to read — endlessly complex, an enigma that you wanted to unravel. His mystique was always present, but you knew him better than most.

To you, it was an act of generosity — you were gullible, naive to Dwayne’s true intentions of feeding from you whilst making the ache fade away. Your heart fluttered within your chest, causing you to wet your lower lip. Dwayne’s thumb rubbed along your jawline.

“How?” With a soft gulp, you swallowed the growing lump within your throat, feeling his lips graze your jugular. His natural musk was enticing, often intermingled with the twang of stale copper and machinery oil. Dwayne shrugged his jacket off, bulky musculature engulfing you.

His shadow eclipsed any sliver of torchlight as he bathed you in darkness, gaze dusky as he gave you another deliberate kiss. Dwayne was silent, adjusting himself until he knelt at the foot of the bed, partially on top of you. His hand pushed against the inside of your knee, and that’s when you stopped him.

“N—No,” Your protest was weak, embarrassment rippling through your voice. There was something that felt inherently dirty to you, if Dwayne intended to follow through on whatever it was he planned on doing. “Dwayne, I don’t think it’s a good idea.” A shrewdness crept into your tone.

He read your mind — you thought he wanted sex. If you weren’t in so much pain, he would’ve been fucking you within an inch of your life by now. Dwayne’s chest rumbled with a brief chuckle, lips curling into a faint smile, pearlescent teeth glimmering against his caramel skin and stubble-coated visage. “Not like that,” He exhaled. “Something else. Help us both.” He murmured, stroking along your leg.

So that’s what he wanted.

Admittedly, you were a little nervous about the idea. He’d never insisted on feeding from you before, and certainly not in this manner. It sounded so crude and messy in your head. He’d bitten you, but never enough to cause any lasting harm. “I don’t know.” You mumbled, feeling another sharp, dagger-like jolt course through the pit of your stomach.

“It’ll make the pain go away,” Dwayne was gorgeous — like a chiseled god, crouched between your legs as he sought your consent. Of course, it was somewhat swayed through consistent persuasion, but there was something mutually beneficial to be found in this. “Let me.” His voice dropped to a husked octave, dripping with something amorous.

You were still hesitant, heart beating like a fluttering of a hummingbird, swift and constant, pounding just above your breast. Goosebumps coalesced along the length of your spine, crawling across your flesh like a tidal wave as he pressed a series of kisses against the inside of your thigh, face dangerously close to swarming forward.

“Okay, just — Just go slow.” Molten heat sloshed within your belly as Dwayne stalked forward, musculature parting your legs. He was so broad and strong, smooth underneath your fingertips as they brushed against his taut, veined forearms. He bracketed you in, arms like a cage as he kept you close.

Dwayne felt that blistering itch within his throat, the urge to feed, to savor the sanguine heat between your legs. He had no intention of being slow. Once the feeding commenced, it was difficult to stop. “‘Course, girl.” He nodded, dark eyes glued to your features as he flattened down against the mattress.

Sinewy hands curled into the waistband of your panties, slipping beneath the shirt you wore, one that didn’t happen to be covered in age-old blood. You were flustered, beginning to squirm as Dwayne peeled it all aside, menstrual pad included.

He rucked your shirt up, propped up on his elbows as his palms gripped at your hips so hard that it was sure to leave bruises. That smell of blood hit him immediately, scorching his throat and insides until it was all ash and dust. Dwayne was silent, broad tongue parting past until it drew along the length of your cunt.

Blood wept from your core, which felt uncomfortable for you, initially. You huffed, nearly sinking down into the mattress in a heap as Dwayne began to openly lap at your slit, drinking you in as if you were the most delicious thing he’d tasted. Your cunt clenched, nerves set ablaze as his nose bumped against your clit.

You tasted saccharine — coppery and vitriolic, but it was his sort of feast. Dwayne let out a grunt, lapping at the blood that oozed from your cunt, letting it linger upon his lips, invading his senses. Once he heard your sweet moans from above, he tugged you forward, a growl ripping through his chest.

Those aches and pains were sluggishly beginning to ebb away, soothed by the vampire who drank from between your thighs. It wasn’t as much as he wanted, but it was enough, tongue raking hot embers across your cunt as the pleasure unfurled within your stomach.

“Dwayne,” A blissful sigh escaped you, back beginning to arch off of the bed and toward his mouth. Your fingers clamored to hold on, finding their purchase amongst his tousled mane of jet-black hair. He’d eaten you out before, but not like this. There was the added element of blood involved. “D—Dwayne, don’t stop.” You whimpered.

Within the dim light of the alcove, those orange flickers of light from the small array of candles made his skin look like velvet. Those dark eyes never left you, pinning you in-place as he drank freely from your cunt. Your menses stained his mouth with red, tongue occasionally drifting from your entrance to your clit.

A burnished, golden sheen glistened within his eyes, hunger somewhat dissipating. He wasn’t satisfied nor satiated, intending to drink his fill — as for you, he suspected you’d have to endure his constant lapping and sucking until you were nothing more than a sobbing mess.

Your poor legs were quivering, wobbling on either side of his face as he steadied you, hands clamping down to keep you still. He idly massaged into the pliant flesh of your thighs, tongue assaulting your cunt with a viciousness to it. Crimson dribbled down his chin, but your flow was beginning to taper off from your prone state.

A myriad of throaty, wanton mewls escaped you, toes curling in delight as he gingerly suckled at your clit. The sensation was temporary, fleeting as his attention drifted elsewhere, tongue lapping at another slow-trickling rivulet of blood. Dwayne hummed, deep and gravelly, stubble tickling the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs.

It was only when he withdrew that you were babbling and stammering, wanting to know why he’d suddenly stopped. “W—Wait,” You whimpered, pitiful as ever, cunt aching something awful as he licked at his lips. Seeing Dwayne’s mouth and chin drenched in a darker shade of scarlet made you feel hot, heat creeping through your belly. “Please.”

His hearty chuckle made you irritated, but it was short-lived. You watched as Dwayne settled himself onto the mattress beside you, hues a vibrant gold, his countenance stained in your menstrual gore. “I’m not finished, pretty girl. Still hungry.” He reassured you, and plucked you up with two strong hands.

You were eternally grateful for Dwayne in that moment, who placed you on his chest. Without missing a beat, he bumped you forward, and you were gazing down at Santa Carla’s most stoic, vicious predator. An endless hunger danced within his eyes, soon to be quelled by the delicious blood that pooled between your legs.

Dwayne could tell that you weren’t expecting this, and it certainly made it all the more enticing for him. You were so smitten, his sweet little human. He’d fantasized about having you sit on his face until you were nearly unconscious, but this was all the more sweeter. Embarrassment flooded through you, but Dwayne seemed entirely unphased.

Initially, you were scared of hurting him, a notion that Dwayne found to be a little too innocuous. He could hear your heartbeat pounding away beneath your collarbone, thrumming like the beat of a drum as he lowered you back onto his mouth.

Your knees pressed into the mattress on either side of his head, dark tresses splayed out like a halo. With this newfound angle, you were staring at Dwayne — or more like, he was gazing at you. His tongue quickly invaded your throbbing cunt, blood catching on his lips. It was messier this time, making you tremble beneath his hold.

A liquid heat coursed throughout your body, pooling heavy within your stomach. Cruor oozed from your throbbing cunt, and now that you weren’t lying on your back, Dwayne was getting another taste. He continued to dutifully lap at your slit, ensuring that he didn’t miss a single drop of blood.

It sat thick and heavy upon his tongue, beginning to bring some semblance of relief to that raging fire that scorched within his throat. His pain was relinquished, and so was yours — a mutual exchange. Even then, he wanted more, digits digging into your haunches as he flicked his tongue over your clit again and again.

There was something disgustingly entrancing about the way he greedily lapped at your core, face buried deep within your cunt, hungry for your menses. If he wasn’t a creature of the night, you might’ve been somewhat indifferent to all of this, but he was bringing you such a wave of relief.

You wiggled your hips, accidentally grinding yourself onto his face, and Dwayne indulged you. As he lapped at another stream of crimson ichor, you moaned, chest heaving with heavy pants and wanton mewls, hands perched along the rickety, half-torn headboard.

“S—Shit,” You exhaled, tears stinging your eyes as you began to make that steady climb toward your climax. Dwayne didn’t stop, never relenting or slowing any movement as he lapped at your cunt, broad tongue swiping over every inch of your slit. The pleasure began to outweigh any pain you felt, muscles spasming. “Dwayne!” A whine left you, head rolling forward.

A deep, guttural growl emanated from Dwayne as it rumbled throughout his wide chest. It was mesmerizing to watch him from above, your hands splaying themselves along his bronze shoulders. His mouth drifted toward your inner thigh, and he looked to you, seeking approval before he bit you.

With a messy, lazy nod, your cunt throbbed and pulsated with molten heat, causing your nails to dig into Dwayne’s skin, hard enough to leave behind crescent-shaped imprints. Golden, crimson-ringed irises flashed in your direction as his countenance contorted into something inhuman, monstrously beautiful in your eyes.

Pearlescent fangs and pretty teeth sought out the pliant, soft flesh of your inner thigh, and he bit down — hard. It left behind the angry-red marks of unusual teeth as ringlets of a sanguine color trickled down your leg. Dwayne licked his lips, appraising you with an incendiary stare as he hastily collected every scrap of your lifeblood.

“M’close,” You whimpered, shuddering when he pressed a kiss atop the freshly-formed bite. His face promptly nestled back to the cleft between your legs, drawing another stream of your menses into his mouth before seeking your clit. “Close.” You said again, breathless and drunk with desire.

Dwayne felt his cock twitch within his jeans, able to smell your arousal through the haze of blood. The siren’s song of cruor was far more powerful, but even then, he could savor both with a feeling of sheer delight. His hunger steadily dwindled, fed by your saccharine cycle — if only you were like this all the time.

His lips formed a tight seal as he began to suck, causing you to nearly double over. “Don’t stop, Dwayne,” Perspiration began to break out along your body, coalescing along the length of your spine, dewy beneath the shirt you wore. “Please, please.” You were desperate, wanting to feel that white-hot explosion of a release.

Exhaustion settled in, your energy having been expended by keeping yourself aloft atop his face. Your cunt tasted sweeter than anything he’d had before in his centuries of existence. Dwayne considered you to be his fountain — a very captivating fountain. His touch screamed with amorousness as he rocked you into his tongue.

At last, your body began to quiver, muscles twitching and spasmodic as you climbed toward your orgasm. Dwayne could feel your weight fall a little heavier atop him, and he happily supported you, so long as you were bleeding. He added that edge of teeth, letting them graze over your clit with a feather-light pressure.

It sent you careening over the edge, cumming onto his mouth with enough mewls and moans to last him for days. It echoed throughout the alcove, and you were on the verge of sobbing, having gained some sliver of relief in the end.

Dwayne lapped at your cunt through it all, consumed by the shadow of greed and possessiveness. He could hear the rest of the boys clamoring throughout the cavern, which soured his mood just a little. They had a poor habit of acting up whenever you were enduring your menstrual cycle — understandable, of course, but an annoyance for Dwayne.

With a grunt, he gently nudged you back onto the taut, musculed expanse of his chest. His mesomorphic stature felt so solid underneath your pliant body, and your hands brazenly felt along his sternum. There was no heartbeat, forever frozen by immortality. His countenance was one of sheer satisfaction, lips and chin smattered in your blood as he licked at his mouth.

“Feel better, don’t you?” Dwayne mused, unable to withhold that little twinge of amusement in his voice. His large hand rubbed and massaged along your thigh, drifting up towards your hips, and then back down again on a continuous loop.

You nodded, feeling all warm when his body shook with a brief tremor of laughter. Dwayne sat up just a little bit, palm grasping at the back of your neck as he brought you forward for a very intimate kiss. A startled gasp tore through your throat, but he held you there, letting you taste yourself — ichor and all.

“Thank you.” Your voice was barely above a whisper as your entire physique hummed and buzzed with satisfaction. Of course, the ache of your cycle never fully dissipated, but Dwayne had certainly done his part in quelling the pain, for now.

Dwayne gingerly patted the swell of your ass, copping a feel in the process before pressing another string of kisses against your neck. He grabbed at the hem of your shirt, rucking it up a-ways. He was quiet, and you were fine with that, eyes widening as he wiped his mouth off with the remnants of your nightshirt.

Jesus — you knew better than to tempt fate, arousal stinging at your core again. You huffed, taking a moment to compose yourself as you attempted to reach for your panties. He intercepted you, snatching your wrist before your fingertips could even reach the lace trim.

“Not tonight, girl,” Dwayne uttered, placing you right beside him, bulky arm curling around your frame. He made you feel so safe — a glaring juxtaposition to his ravenous hunger and vampiric state.

You felt a pair of fangs tauntingly scrape over your jugular, able to feel the chill of his bare chest nudging into your back. “Might get hungry later.” He rumbled, pressing a chaste kiss against the back of your shoulder.

[trulyumai]

Sweet Taste of Nectar

Pairing: Messmer the Impaler / Wife! Reader

Warnings: Rough Smut

Synopsis: he liked to be rough with his wife, sure, but she adored it.

A/N: I’m trying a new layout to my writing, let me know if it’s any better!

Listen and read with a Messmer playlist I designed for the stories!

messmer could die a happy man, with such a sight to gaze upon.

his victories held no contest against such a feat displayed before him.

the man watched her bounce languidly upon his lap; hands upon his shoulders with a tight grip.

up and down his wife went, grinding against his hips with fervor, moans escaping her with each push and shove made inside her warm mound.

“please,” she had begged out, voice easing over the squelches echoing inside the chamber.

“so pretty,” he whispered. his eyes— never once straying from her moving breasts, catching them ever so often with his heat induced hands.

He knew she had to be close, the way her orbs glossed over with a light sheen, sweat dabbed across her brow and her legs stiffened with a tight pressure around the man’s hips.

she puffed out air as her neck leaned back tiredly. a simmering burn made its way across her stomach, to the middle of her core and she wanted it out— craved the much needed release just as much as he did.

messmer could no longer wait, for his patience had run thin. his torso sat up, pushing the girl to be underneath his lanky form.

her head dangled off the bed, sweat stuck to her skin like a cheap perfume.

“it— hah, you promised I could lead,” the girls shoulders shook with wanted need, and the man scoffed while looping her leg around his waist. his toned arms held up her legs easily, and it would have been impressive if she wasn’t numbed from the many hours of love making.

“pretty wife,” he was smiling now. it was small, didn’t reach his lust filled eyes.

his hips pulled back before he slammed roughly into her.

her head reeled back with a snap, a groan overtook her as the man slapped against her lower half with more speed than she could ever muster.

one hand free, he reached out to find the slim neck it craved to hold— to squeeze until she begged him to utterly destroy her, to fill her with as much seed as he possible could.

his fingers wrapped around the delicate skin as he picked up a steady pace. hitting her favorite spot over, over and over again.

“—nnngh,” the girls eyes rolled back uncontrollably, wet tears grazed her lashes, and fell down in waves upon her cheeks from the drawn on pleasure the man fed her.

he needed to hear it. taste the much desired words across his tongue.

pumping harder, faster, the bed piece creaked out in response. The wood squealed with every increase of the man’s pace.

“say it,” the knight demanded.

“say it, pretty wife,”

everything felt so numb. over and over he hit against her lower lips— and she could once more feel the fire in her belly build up.

messmer tightened his hold upon her throat, a low whine escaped her lips.

“say it!”

“I—,” the pace was perfect; the roughness the girl had needed and desired all day was finally here. her fingers swiped away at the tears that fell, mouth falling agape in the process. drool leaked out instantly, the man lapped it up, his pink tongue dragged across her chin slowly.

“—fill me. I—I’m all yours, my hus-husband!” the man shuddered, his form sagged against hers with his hips giving one final slam, letting both their juices run freely down his pale thighs.

looking down at the messy haired girl, he let out a laugh.

hair poked in each direction and sweat and spit swept over her body.

not caring for the sticky feeling across her thighs she groaned out, reaching to put her hands around the back of Messmer’s neck.

“bath?” he questioned; knowing that his wife must feel dirty

“bath,” she agreed. her eyes closed instantly while the flame picked up her sagging body, leading her to the tub just across the hall.

she did nothing but lean against him, as he washed and kissed every inch of her body.

it wasn’t until they returned back to their newly sheeted bed, that they exchanged pleasantries.

“i love you, dear wife,” lips molded against her forehead, down to her temple and cheek.

she hummed.

“and i you, my husband.”

[erwinsvow]

𝐫𝐜 - 𝟏:𝟒𝟓𝐩𝐦

“i told ya to stay at home,” rafe says, fingers gripping the steering wheel of his truck tightly, knuckles turning white before your eyes. you don’t look up at him—your moody gaze focusing out of the window instead, staring at the trees and the pavement instead of your boyfriend.

maybe you shouldn’t have complained so much. you know he’s right, because after all, you had begged to tag along with him for the day. normally rafe can hold his own—can refuse and let you down easy with a promise to come back later and spend the rest of the day doing whatever you want, which is more often than not just crashing at tannyhill and watching a movie. you inevitably fall asleep and stay the night, just like what had happened last night. 

and then this morning, clad just in rafe’s button-up and some socks, you pad up to him and look at him sweetly.

“no, no, you’re jus’ gonna start complainin’ the second you get bored-” 

“i won’t! no complaints here, none,” you had insisted, giving him your best pout and puppy eyes. 

“i have real shit to get done today, kid, important business-”

“i won’t say anything! you won’t even know i’m there, rafe-”

rafe had given in eventually—squeezing your cheeks together with his hand before you got in the passenger seat of his car, after opening the door for you.

“when you start complainin’, i’m gonna make you regret it. hm?” you had squeaked out an agreeing noise, quickly following up with a promise to stay quiet before climbing into your seat.

that had been hours ago. in that time, rafe had stopped at several houses, gone inside and spent time talking to other people—some you recognized, others not so much—and ended up here, with you waiting, your feet on his dash while he was inside with barry. the minutes were dragging into hours at this point, your entire body feeling tired and achy from the position. the air in the car felt a little suffocating and paired with the heat of the sun pouring through the windows, nothing you could do would make you feel comfortable.

rafe’s one rule had been not to get out of the car while he was inside. in your attempt to follow his instructions, you felt yourself getting more and more frustrated, a certain crankiness bubbling up inside you, making one of its rare appearances. 

you tried to scroll through your phone and play music—which failed immediately since there was no service out here. you tried to eat the candy you kept in his glovebox, but it was melted beyond the point of remaining edible. you tried, you really did, but just like rafe had predicted, you started complaining the second he got back in the truck.

“you think, what? that i say that shit for me? no, kid, i’m saying it for you, ‘cause i know you get fed up in the car when i’m fuckin’ busy tryna make some money, being fuckin’ proactive for us-”

“but i-”

“no excuses. i told you to stay home. you gonna get an attitude with me? huh?” 

“you’re not even-”

“shoulda tied your ass to the bed. that’s what i’ll do next time.”

it doesn’t take much longer for the tears to come to the surface, your face falling into that sad look that makes him mad at himself for even ever yelling at you. you cry silently like that until he parks at tannyhill, and when he looks at you, regret washes over him. your pretty makeup all messed up, body heaving with sobs, staring down at your feet because you felt too ashamed to look him in the eyes.

“hey, hey,” he starts, a hand resting on your shoulder to get your attention. it moves deftly to your chin, titling your pretty, teary face up at him. “c’mon, don’t cry. it’s nothin’.” 

“you got mad,” you say, voice broken up with a sob, blubbering on. “i’m sorry, i am. i just hate being all alone here without you, it’s the worst-” 

“come on, kid.”

“jus’ wanted to hang out with you,” you sniffle. he runs a hand through his hair. he needs to get better at not getting frustrated with you just because he’s not used to your affection.

“i know, baby. we’re home now so get inside, hm?” you comply with his instructions, walking into tannyhill and heading towards the couch in the living room, like you always do when the two of you curl up to watch a movie.

“where you goin'?” he calls after you. you stop in your track, turning around to face rafe.

“i thought we’re hanging out? the living room?”

“and i said this morning that i would make you regret complainin’. so get your ass upstairs first, now.”

[littelovelunette]

this one isn’t smut, but could you do vi and reader having an argument, and vi raises her arms in exasperation, and the reader flinches and has a panic attack because of past childhood trauma, and vi comforts reader and makes sure they’re safe

Promise Me

Contains implied PTSD, trauma, mentions of abuse, sensitive content

This one feels personal…

Vi had been letting go of herself, pit fighting and getting drunk, it made you sad.

You knew she was suffering deep inside and she was hurting but acting the way she did, hurt you as well. You just wanted her to put things in the past and move on with her life but she didn't seem like she was interested in doing that anytime soon.

You both weren't in an exclusive relationship, it was more like a random hookup where you both caught feelings somewhat and now live together. It was weird but you never found her sober enough to talk it through.

You were watching Vi stumble into the living room, clearly drunk as the bottle of alcohol fell out of her loose grip. The bandages she had on her arms and the chest bindings were all soaked with blood and sweat. She looked awful.

“You're drunk. Again.” you said, your tone clearly fed up and angry.

Vi only hiccuped a little and slurred a response back, “Looking so pretty while so angry.”

You rolled your eyes and walked over to her, sitting down at the couch, pulling her by the wrist so she would sit down beside you. “I don't understand. I'm trying to help you but you're not letting me. You're ruining yourself going down this path of painless self destruction.

While I wouldn't exactly say it's completely painless.” You pointed out the bruises and cuts she had from the fights.

You hated her being like this. She was just as good as an alcoholic by now.

“Stop nagging me,” Vi simply said, getting off the couch instead of letting you patch her up like she usually allowed while she was drunk.

You got up, now even angrier than before. “Vi,” you called, “I'm not nagging, I'm only saying you should take care of yourself. How do you even tell yourself you love me if you can't even bring yourself to love you?”

Vi groaned a little, “Blah, blah, blah, I'm too tired to go through your shit right now. Can't I just go to my room and take a fucking nap?”

“No, we need to talk about this.” You pressed despite knowing she was drunk. She was drunk pretty much all the time. What difference would it make if you questioned her about it now?

Maybe she would change, maybe she wouldn't. Instead of waiting longer for pretty much no results, it was better to just know now.

Vi huffed and crossed her arms, eyes bloodshot due to the alcohol, “What do you gotta say? Spit it out.”

“You need to stop all this fighting drinking, it's not a healthy coping mechanism,” you said, crossing your arms as well as you eyed the other woman.

“Healthy coping mechanism?! Look around! We're in the Undercity! Nothing’s healthy here if anything!” Vi yelled, her voice raising, making your heart pound against your chest almost painfully. You hated seeing her so drunk… and verbally hurtful.

“Do you wanna be like all the junkies we see out on the road?” You asked, trying to maintain a calm collected tone.

Just then Vi raised her hands in exasperation and you took a step back, flinching and hiding your face. Vi completely paused seeing you do that.

“Love,” she said, her voice an octave lower, she walked closer, hand hovering over your shoulder as if scared to break you, “Love, what's wrong?”

“N-Nothing,” you pushed her away and walked into the shared bedroom, trying to collect yourself.

Her raising her hands like that brought back bad memories. Pain. Screaming. Begging. To just stop. It felt like something was stuck in your esophagus and you couldn't breathe properly.

Forcing yourself to swallow the growing lump in your throat, you stared at yourself in the mirror. A small, barely visible scar on your left eyelid, the bruises that littered your legs. It was like every other memory you tried to bury deep away, away from your everyday day and mannerisms, they were coming back to haunt you again.

You could almost hear the screams and the begging behind your eyes, somewhere in your head and you weren't sure if you were being sane right then.

Something was bothering you…

“Sweetheart,” Vi walked into the room and cupped your face making you look up at her, “Tell me what's going on.”

You let out a breath, a shuddering breath as the imagery of blood, darkness, tears flashed through your brain at once making you flinch and try to pull again but Vi didn't let you.

She wrapped you up in her strong arms, hands caressing the soft locks of your hair and even if she was sweaty, bloody and reeked of alcohol you couldn't help but find love within her hug. And acceptance.

You knew she was always there but it was harder to open up about something so sensitive if you've buried them deep long enough.

“I'd never hit you. Never.” Vi said, kissing your head and making you look at her again to ensure that you understood what she said.

“Pinky swear?” you managed to ask in a low voice.

It broke Vi’s heart that you needed that much reassurance despite her saying she wouldn't hurt you ever, making her wonder just how many levels of hell you had been through in the past.

“Pinky swear…”

[norman-fucking-reedus]

HE ATE MY HEART!

“I love that girl”

gif by @corvidcrossbow

IM SO FUCKING EXCITED TO FINALLY HAVE SOMETHING TO POST ON HERE AND ALSO TO POST SOMETHING TO THIS SONG

Vamp!Daryl has rotted not only my brain but the community. I am not sorry at all for the plague I'm spreading and I hope that it only gets worse.

So I've been doing some research on it, and I really like the idea of mixing the Blade universe w TWD, I did some more research on the different types of vampires (its kind of a lot so if you want you can go read abt them here!) To basically summarize, there's people, daywalkers (half vamp-people), walkers, full vampires, and then Revenants (half-walker half vampire, basically just another way to die)

This also makes it easier for whenever Scud becomes my next vampy victim

AUUUGH I NEED MY HOT SEXY NEEDY VAMPIRE MAN WHO JUST WANTS TO DRINK ALL MY BLOOD SOMEONE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE FUCKING PLEASE

also I am working on reqs yes I am, I have one scud fic that is dirty and nasty and should be getting posted soon. also I may not be on tumblr as much as I used to be because GUYS I am now employed yes that's right I got off my computer, went outside, interacted with people, and got a job #gangshit

It had been over a week since Daryl had eaten, and over two since he had left to go out on the community's monthly supply run.

As he stumbled through the opening gates, he felt like he had been through a war. His body was wracked with exhaustion, weakness, and hunger. The air was thick with the strong scent of blood, and he couldn't keep himself from groaning painfully when he was bombarded by Carol and Rick asking where he had been, what had taken so long, and if he was alright.

“No! M’not alright dammit” He barked at them in frustration after being asked for the third time if he was alright, his voice laced with irritation and discomfort. Carol couldn't help but notice his pale and clammy appearance.

Her forehead creased into a frown as she tightly pursed her lips, giving Daryl a scolding look that made him uneasy. With a tone of concern, she asked, "I'm worried. When was the last you fed?"

The man's face twisted in discomfort as Rick and Carol stood in his space. He scoffed and muttered, "Not recently, m'fuckin' starvin'" The longer he stayed, the more his head spun and his vision blurred, causing the corners of his eyes to fade into a deep red color. His stomach churned uncomfortably, and he could feel his teeth starting to ache.

Rick observed Daryl's malnourished skin, staring at how he was almost transparent. His eyes were screwed shut as the sun harshly burned his sensitive orbs, and he was gripping the strap of his crossbow so hard that his fingers were starting to turn red.

"You should go see Y/n," Rick said, eyes fixed on his friend. "She should be back home and she's been asking about you. I think she misses you." Daryl's body tensed at the sound of your name, and a sudden chill ran down his spine, causing goosebumps to rise on his arms. He tried to hide his reaction, but Rick's sharp eyes didn't miss a thing.

Daryl's head drooped weakly as he could only manage a feeble nod. Rick and Carol had stepped off to the side for him, offering their silent support. Carol placed her hand gently on his shoulder, her grey hair falling across her face as she did so. Rick, with his stern expression, gave Daryl a look that he knew meant there was no room for argument.

His senses were already heightened to an extreme level, almost at an overload as the sun was abnormally bright, blazing down on him with a blinding intensity, making it difficult for him to even keep his eyes open. He could feel the heat searing his skin, causing beads of sweat to form on his forehead and trickle down his face. He noticed the way that his vest rubbed uncomfortably against him, the fabric clinging to his skin and making him feel sticky and irritable. His already aching teeth began to grind down against each other, and he could feel his razor-sharp fangs digging into the tender skin of his bottom lip, further fueling his pure discomfort.

Each step he took in the direction of your house was tiring and heavy, his dirty, muddy boots slapping against the ground as he dragged himself through the streets, promptly ignoring any strange or judgy looks that were thrown his way. He didn't have the time, let alone the strength to even bother paying them any mind. His stomach churned as his overwhelmed nose couldn't help but pick up the sickeningly sweet smell of blood.

It forced him to quicken his pace, trying to get just as far away from the public eye as he possible could. He didn't want to be looked at, didn't want to be stared at. He just wanted to get inside as soon as fucking possible and just tear off all his goddamn clothes. A ping of hope struck through him when he could see your familiar house only a short distance down the road, having to hold himself back from flat-out sprinting the rest of the way there.

Though it was only about a thirty-second walk, it had been the longest in his whole entire life, and walking up the small steps of your porch was like something out of a nightmare. He could disgustingly feel the material change in flooring when he stepped off the pavement and onto the creaky wood, the sound grating against his now way too-sensitive ears. Dear god, would someone fucking help him already?

Of course, as if on cue, the red front door to your house swung open, but instead of being met with a friendly face, he was met with the barrel of your gun.

"Daryl?" You questioned as you lowered the weapon slightly, a smile stretching across your lips once you had confirmed who was standing and dicking around on your porch. "Daryl!" You fully dropped your defensive position, stuffing the weapon in the band of your pants as you prepared to throw yourself at the man, halting when you finally took in his ruined appearance.

His breathing was labored, and it was hard to keep himself upright on his own two legs, forcing him to lean against the wall by the door. "Hey doll"

You scoffed at him in disbelief, "Don't you dare even "hey doll" me, mister! What the hell happened to you? Get in here right now" Grabbing the front of his vest and pulling his heavy body inside, Daryl groaning as each movement caused pain to his body, slumping against the door when you slammed it shut.

He couldn't be happier when he felt you prying the buttons of his stupidly itchy vest off, him shrugging it off as well as his crossbow, clattering down on the floor and probably chipping the metal further.

"Jesus Daryl, you look fucking terrible. Did you feed on anything at all out there?" You purse your lips as you analyze and checked his unnaturally pale chest, letting out a surprised hiss at the burn lingering on your fingers tips from where you had brushed them against the skin of his shoulder

Daryl groaned as you directed him to sit on the couch, the short steps from the front door already leaving him utterly winded, almost dripping in sweat as he wheezed each breath of air.

“‘Wasn’t much… ‘wasn’t much out there” He spoke breathlessly, head spinning and his stomach loudly churning when you stood in front of him.

When you extended a hand out to cup his face, he tightly gripped your wrist with a shaky hand. “Don’. Please don’” He didn’t want to feed from you, not like this, not in a state where he couldn’t guarantee that he wouldn’t absolutely drain you.

“Daryl” You whispered softly, frowning slightly as you started taking your shirt off, and he wanted to scream at your stubbornness.

You straddled his lap and gently brushed the hair sticking to his forehead off, his blue eyes starting to tint red as the smell of your blood was strong, right in his face. “I don’ wanna”

“I know you don’t sweetheart, but you’ll die. What am I gonna do if you die?” You cupped his face, forcing his gaze onto yours. He whimpered slightly at your touch, his whole body sensitive and reactive.

Daryl shivered when you combed fingers through his hair, hands curling around your hips when you directed his head to your neck. “I trust you, more than I even trust myself” You whispered soothingly into his ear, and he almost wanted to cry.

He could smell the blood coursing through you like it was a burning candle, and his mouth was uncontrollably watering. His fangs were sharp and heavy, aching with the need to sink into your skin, which is exactly what he did, groaning against you at the first drops of blood, not wasting against another second before he was greedily taking mouthfuls.

It was so good, so warm and fresh, sweet and bitter. Daryl had drank lots of blood before, and yours was easily his favorite. He craved it during his time out there, not just because there was a serious lack in wild animals, but because it was addictive.

He squeezed your hips, soft and pillowy in his buzzing palms as he could feel himself starting to get hard in his pants, the more blood he swallowed the more drunk he got.

It made you feel good to watch his natural tan color fade back, his scarred back no longer a ghastly pale. You ran your fingers through his hair, occasionally curling your fingers and gripping the dark locks to grind down against his now-straining cock.

Daryl made soft, small sounds as he fed, each roll of your hips making each gulp of your blood taste so much better. His senses were at an all-time high, overwhelmed and at an absolute edge. He couldn’t help the way his hands pressed you down on his cock, hips desperately jerking against you as he could feel himself getting closer and closer, his head spinning in a blood lust haze.

He was so close, so very fucking close. His sharp claws had made themselves known, and you jolted when they painfully curled into your flesh, hips sputtering and slightly faltering in their movements. Daryl had no problem picking up the slack, almost fucking you right through his pants from how hard he was rutting up into you.

It was just all so much, his whole body on fire with pure arousal as he sighed around a final mouthful of crimson, trembling from his core as his orgasm washed over him, pressing your clothed cunt against him as hard as he could, making his already fuzzy mind draw a complete blank, a loud groan tearing from his throat that caused his fangs to slip out from where he had punctured the skin and drop his head against your shoulder, whimpering softly as he held you down.

You scratched his scalp comfortingly, feeling a little woozy from the amount of blood he had taken. He hummed against you as he started to come down from not only the high of his orgasm but bubbly buzz from his feast.

“Feel better?” You asked in a quiet, sleepy voice when Daryl’s tongue cleaned the drops of blood that had leaked from the small wounds, coating the area in his saliva so that it could heal.

He nodded as peppered you in appreciative and apologetic kisses, pulling you flush against his bare chest by wrapping his arms around your back, claws retracted and replaced with blunt nails. “M’sorry fer hurtin’, ya”

“Instead, you should be sorry for not feeding yourself, mister” You said as you shook your head, pinching his side as you got a bit upset again. “You know it scares me shitless when you do that”

“I know, I know. M’sorry for tha’ too” Daryl grumbled, feeling fatigued as well now that his tummy was full and satiated. His body was still weak and needed rest, now yours did as well considering he had taken a lot more than usual. “I’ll make it up to ya’” He said as he pushed himself up off the couch, grunting as it was a lot harder with tired muscles and one hand keeping his woman wrapped around him, adding a second once he was finally standing.

You giggled at that, arms hooked around his neck. “And just how will you do that?”

“Got a real good idea” Daryl smirked, hoisting you up as he ascended up the stairs to your shared bedroom, hungry for something else that was much better than blood.

I started writing this a few days ago I think this is the quickest I've written something

Vamp!Daryl is an absolute need. I'm loving every single post I see of him and I love watching the disease spread faster than fucking covid I jump for joy when I see someone I don't even know talking abt him is this what fame feels like is this what its like to be famous am I fucking famous

yes you do want more of this so go read more

Bloodthirsty @dixons-sunshine

Bite me @mydearestdaryl

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart (Chapter 6) Human!Alastor x Married!Reader

Rated Adult Chapter Trigger Warnings: Alastor is a little shit. Acts of domestic violence

AN: Reminder- Fridays are our new update days. Comments and reblogs are the lifeblood of fics, please consider dropping a love note and let me know if you want on the tag list!

Now with Audio, read by the lovely Nyx of Nyx Productions! Chapter 6: Part 1, Part 2.

Masterlist AO3 KoFi

“What were you doing with him?” Laurence’s hand wrapped around your upper arm as he crowded your space. His voice came out as a low hiss, promising violence later as his grip became painfully tight. 

“Nothing.” You shrank under his hands. “He said you were drafting the contract. Nothing happened. He just lifted the kettle for me. I swear.” 

“You’re a lucky man, Laurence!” Alastor’s voice carried easily through the house. “Your wife’s cooking smells simply divine. Homemade bread too? I’d be a fat man if I had a wife like her at home to feed me. I can see why your pants are as wide as they are!” 

Laurance’s hands fell from your arms as he turned to face the guest, stepping again into your kitchen like it was his own. Alastor only glanced at the both of you, eyes running over you for longer than you were comfortable, before flicking up to Laurance. 

“She keeps me well fed,” Laurence said tensely, grip on your waist tightening as you tried to smile instead of grimace. 

“I can see that!” Alastor laughed, picking up the plater of roast beef. “I simply couldn’t focus on watching you tippity type on that typewriter with the lovely smell from the kitchen. Your restraint is admirable.”

“It’s really nothing special,” you felt off balance. Far too much of the attention was on you for a business dinner your husband was hosting. It was wrong. 

“Oh, but it is!” Alastor lingered in the doorway between the kitchen and dining room, pot roast in hand. “If it hadn’t been for the lovely aromas pulling me down to the kitchen, however would you have gotten the kettle off the stove? It didn’t look like anyone else was going to come to your rescue!”

Alastor served the food, making a fuss about how you had done all the hard work of cooking it and the least the men folk could do was dish it up in exchange. You did not know how to deny him as you lingered off to the side, twisting your hands together as you watched. Laurence’s eyes burned into you as Alastor scooped beef and gravy into your dish, continuing to sing your praises as he gave you a healthy serving. 

Your husband was itching to say you didn’t need the hearty helping you were being given. He wanted to protest against the sweet butter Alastor slathered on your bread for you. Laurence wouldn’t be pleased if you put on weight, but there was nothing you or he could say to stop Alastor and you were so hungry. 

Part of you didn’t want to stop him. You focused your attention on pouring wine for the table, trying to ignore the fact that it felt more like you and Alastor had been the hosts of this lovely little dinner party. It was a strange thought, one that had no place in your head. With a shake of your head, you tried to banish the thought as you stood to Laurence’s side, next to the chair he sat in as you poured his wine. 

“Everything alright, darling?” Alastor called from where he served his own food. Laurence’s dish continued to remain empty. 

You startled under the attention, “Just a hair tickling my cheek, I’m afraid. Nothing to worry about.” 

“Off those feet, dear.” Alastor pulled your chair out for you as you motioned to fill Laurence’s still empty dish. 

“But I-”

“Nonsense!” Alastor laughed easily as you timidly sat, head down, while he scooted your chair to the table. You wanted nothing more than for the floor to swallow you whole. Whatever was going on, you couldn’t wrap your mind around it. The only thing you were sure of was the fact that you would pay for how this dinner had gone already. 

Alastor took his seat across from you as Laurence served himself for what you thought may have been the first time in his life. He was unskilled, gravy spilling onto the tablecloth and vegetables landing with a plop. 

Cutlery scraped and clanked against dishes as everyone ate in a tense silence. Laurence seethed, wanting Alastor out of the house. He couldn’t force the guest out before the contract was signed and money passed hands. The only person who seemed at ease at the dinner table was Alastor himself. 

Someone needed to say something. 

“Mr. Moreau,” you started only to get cut off by Alastor, reminding you again that it was his given name for you to use and he would take nothing else. You gave in with a soft smile as Laurence’s forced smile twitched. “Alastor then. How do you know Laurence?” 

“Business,” Laurence answered quickly. One tense word was all he gave you. 

“Oh,” the one-word answers every time you tried to open the doors to dinner conversation discouraged you. Laurence was clearly unhappy. Dinner was going poorly, and you were sure somehow it was your fault. 

“Our lines of business rarely cross.” Alastor offered, “I’m simply providing some financial backing for his latest endeavor.” 

“And what is your line of business?” You asked before you thought twice, eager to at least have Alastor talking and hopeful that he would pull your husband into conversation. Then you could fade out and be forgotten about like a good wife. 

Laurence kicked you under the table, making you realize that you and Alastor were having too much of a conversation between yourselves for his liking, though the conversation had only really just begun. 

“I work in radio!” Alastor’s smile grew wide, full of white teeth and pride. “Perhaps you’ve heard my show? We recently shifted time slots since it’s been rather well received and now, dare I say, it’s really taking off.”

“That’s where I know-” 

“We don’t listen to much radio.” Laurence said, cutting you off. “We should get the papers signed. It’s getting late.” He slid the papers and a pen across the table to Alastor, who was making a show of looking at his watch, eyebrow raised at the fairly early hour. 

Alastor’s eyes returned to you, where they lingered as he pulled the papers Laurence slid to him closer. You only felt like you could breathe again when he looked down and signed his name in places as he flipped through and read each page. As he leaned to the side, you glanced at Laurence. 

Your husband had his eyes locked on you as papers shuffled through Alastor’s hands. Laurence only looked from you when Alastor slid half the papers back to him, a small stack of twenty-dollar bills sitting on top signifying a deal closed. 

It was more money than you had ever seen and it passed hands in front of you as if it was nothing. You hadn’t expected the business conducted in your home over dinner to involve such high dollar amounts. 

No wonder Laurence had been so stressed! You were thankful it was done. Perhaps now things would settle down and Laurence would relax, but as you looked between the two men, you doubted it. The tension in the air seemed to only grow. 

At least the deal was done. 

It felt like liquid lead had settled in your stomach as you mechanically lifted Alastor’s coat for him. All dinner, Alastor sent thinly veiled barbs at your husband and paid you far too much attention. Having the paperwork signed did nothing to ease the tension between the two men. If anything, it seemed to only get worse. 

When the topic of the dessert was raised, Laurence was quick to write it off. You had made a pie but Alastor was fed the lie that it had burned. It was black and crispy, not salvageable according to your husband. He had bemoaned how you could cook a good meal but how your baking skills needed refinement. Alastor was really being spared not having to choke it down. 

You knew the words were a lie, every one of them, but that didn’t stop the shame from burning in your throat or the way your eyes stung. There was so very little in life for you to cling to. All you had was the hope of being a good wife and, for his own benefit, your husband tore that image down too. 

Had Alastor noticed the pie sitting atop the breadbox in the kitchen? It wasn’t black or burned. It had come out of the oven looking rather nice, you had thought. 

If he had, he said nothing about it. You thought maybe he remembered seeing it though, with how he offered you a small smile that felt far too pointed and private for the open space of your great room. You hoped he did. 

It was proper that you help the guest into his coat. It was heavy enough that your bad arm sagged, shoulder screaming as you struggled to hold it up and open for him. Alastor made no comment on it as he slipped one arm into the sleeve, taking the weight off the pained shoulder quickly. He reached across his front and helped the other sleeve up his arm.

As soon as he straightened his coat, you stepped back and to your husband’s side. Laurence’s hand settled on your waist, fingers flexing one at a time, again and again against you. Little finger, ring finger, middle finger, index finger. Twitch, twitch, twitch. Again and again the twitches ran up your side. 

“It was a lovely dinner, Mrs. Latimer.” Alastor reached for your hand. 

You pulled away, but you couldn’t go far with Laurence’s arm around you. Alastor was faster anyway, snagging your hand in his. Much as he did when he introduced himself a few hours ago, he bent at the waist as he brought the back of your hand up to his lips. 

Having spent more time with him, having been exposed to his kindness and the rich tones of his voice for more than fleeting moments, this time the action affected you far more than it had the first time. 

Your hand trembled in his as his soft lips lingered on the back of it. Your face felt hot, and you had to remind yourself to breathe as you watched the way his long thick lashes fell against his cheek when his eyes closed. His eyes opened slowly, though his kiss drew on a few heartbeats longer. 

His lips left your skin as his head tilted up, warm brown eyes meeting your eyes. The moment seemed to last forever before he spoke, breath fanning over your hand in a way that felt strangely more intimate than anything you had done with your husband. 

“I thank you for an absolutely lovely dinner, Miss Latimer.” 

You needed to correct him, to remind him that it was Mrs. You were married. You had a husband. You belonged to someone. You couldn’t find the words to do so, couldn’t make your voice work as Laurence’s fingers continued twitching one at a time, up and down your hip.

“Thank you for coming,” Laurence said, his voice tight. Finally Alastor dropped your hand and straightened when Laurence put his hand out to shake. “I hope to continue to do business with you.” 

“Likewise,” the tendons in Alastor’s hand stood out as he squeezed Laurence’s hand in a quick but painful shake. “You have a lovely wife. Do take care to hold on to her.” 

The door clicked shut behind Alastor. The house instantly felt colder, emptier. It was so quiet you could hear the soft click of Alastor’s shoes against the concrete walkway as he made his way off your property. 

You were scared, terrified to breathe as Laurence’s hand fell from your waist. It would start soon, you were sure of it. You didn’t know when, but you knew that tonight wasn’t going to be a good night for you. 

“What the fuck are you standing around for? Go fucking clean up from dinner.” 

“Yes, Laurence,” you flinched away at his booming tone before asking, hopeful to smoothe the night over, “Is there anything I can get you first? A drink?” 

You did not hum while you scrubbed dishes clean. You made as little noise as you could, hoping that maybe he would forget about you while you erased the evidence of the meal from your home. Maybe he would leave you alone. Maybe he would fall asleep. 

He had said his back was paining him as he stomped upstairs. Hopefully, he wouldn’t notice you had taken some of his tincture. Sometimes when he took it, he simply went to sleep.

“Did you enjoy having our dinner guest over?” Laurence’s words were slurred as if his tongue was numb and too thick for his mouth. Did he take too much medication or did he have a few drinks? You were not sure and had no desire to get too close to him to find out. 

“He seemed nice enough,” you agreed carefully, setting the last dish on the dying rack before setting to work washing the kettle. 

At some point, Alastor had set it next to the sink for you, making it easy for you to clean up. Alastor had also been the one who gathered the dishes from the table, refusing to allow the woman who did the cooking to pick up after dinner as well. He had said that his mother had raised him too well to allow it. 

It had been a great help, allowing you to do most of the lifting one handed as you cleaned. You couldn’t convince yourself it was a coincidence. He had to have realized how much your shoulder was paining you and done it to help. The idea made your heartbeat a little faster in both fear of what he knew and the rush of being seen. 

“You seemed to like him an awful lot.” Laurence bit out. That was how the night was going. “Are you fucking him?”

“Laurence,” you gasped out his name, outraged as you turned to him. “I don’t even know him. I would never run around on you, anyway. I know better. I am a married woman and even if I wasn’t, it wouldn’t be proper.” 

“Did you want him to? Fucking bend you over the counter and fuck you like a whore?” Laurence quickly crossed the kitchen, fist tangling in a handful of your hair and shoving your face forward. Your shoulder ached as you braced yourself against the sink with your hands. 

“Please,” you cried out as your forehead struck the faucet. 

“Did you beg him as prettily?” Laurance asked, hand grabbing at your ass. “Or did I come down in time?” 

“I swear,” tears dripped from your eyes into the dishwater, sending little ripples out that bubbles surfed on. It was strange the things your mind focused on in moments like this. The ripples didn’t have a chance to die out before Laurence threw you to the ground, the sound of fabric ripping was loud in your ears. 

Another dress ripped by his hands. Another crash to the floor. More harsh words. Marriage was work, your mother had always told you. Marriage was often painful. 

“Look what you did,” Laurence seethed. “Another fucking tailor bill. Can’t you at least fucking learn to mend clothes if you’re going to insist on making me rip them?”

“I’m sorry,” you choked out the words, “I’ll be more careful,” you promised, as if it wasn’t his hands on you that caused the rip. 

Your words did nothing to soothe him. He kicked you harshly, your body curling into the fetal position as pain radiated through you. Groaning, you curled into yourself tighter as you waited to see what would come next, hoping that if you made yourself small enough, he would have mercy on you. 

Tonight, having you on the floor groaning was enough for him. Instead of striking out again with his foot or pulling you from the ground, he simply loomed over you, ranting, screaming, face red. He called you a whore. He made you say you belonged to him. He called you a slut for any man’s attention. 

“Why the fuck would I spend money to power the rest of this damn house for a woman who’s going to fuck some two bit radio man?” Laurence’s poisonous words continued to fall over you. “You can’t even keep your fucking dresses in good condition.” 

You didn’t even know why he was angry about the electricity. You hadn’t asked for it to be finished in months. Instead of questioning it, you whimpered, “Yes, Laurence.” 

You waited, holding your breath, for his next move. Would it be another kick? More words? Would he pull you from the floor and do to you what he accused you of letting Alastor do? 

“Clean this shit up.” 

You laid on the floor, curled into a ball and cried. It had been a while since you cried, or at least it felt like it. You could just have forgotten when you had last cried, too. Time blurred together in a sea of pain. 

What was it like to be married to a man who didn’t hurt you? 

What sort of husband would Alastor be? He talked as if he had no wife at home and surely if he had one, he’d have brought her as was common. Was it by choice or was there something wrong with him? Closing your eyes, you let your mind drift. It was okay to drift for a bit, right?

Brown eyes looked up at you from a veil of thick lashes as your mind floated away.

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Dark Fae Romance: Hezirus (Chapter 1)

The first chapter in the long awaited romance story with my Dark Fae character, Hezirus!

Your can read the Starter Chapter here, which will introduce you to the characters and give some context. This story was in the kiln for so long and has many bits to it. I got way too into the story and I absolutely will not apologize! I enjoyed it too much!

I hope you enjoy! Let me know what you think!

Chapter Words: 11k Warnings: a sfw starter. Notes: I do not give permission to anyone to repost, steal, copy, bind my stories. Also this is the Patreon Exclusive Freebie for you all to enjoy. You can read Chapter 2 on Patreon, which has just been published.

Your stomach growled loudly in the silence of the dungeon. Someone whimpered and the shadows chittered like a swarm of insects as they passed your door.

Daylight streamed into your cell through the small square hole in the wall of your room. And that’s where the servant found you. The moment the day winked against the stone, you sat in its brightness. Soaking in whatever warmth the cold morning air allowed.

You had no idea what time it was. But when the cell door opened, you were dizzily glad for the hot soup and bread that the owl woman placed by your feet.

“The prince wishes you to join him for a bath this morning.” The owl woman said as you dug into your breakfast. Your eyes widened as you swallowed.

“Is that an order?” You asked, a little more harshly than was probably needed. But you felt the giant round eyes regard you emotionlessly. As if your anger didn’t matter to her. It probably didn’t.

“I would assume so. Since you are his pet.”

“I’m not his pet.” You snapped, eating another spoonful of soup and buttered bread.

“Yes, you are.” The owl woman said. Her head then twisted to look behind her without moving her shoulders. Very much like how you’ve seen owls normally do. Her feathers puffed up for a second before she settled and turned her head back to you. Blinking slowly. “Would you prefer to be fed to Master Maahes? Because he is just down the hall waiting for me to leave the door open.”

Terror gripped you and you almost dropped your bowl. “W-What?”

“He can’t touch you while I am here. Since Prince Hezirus would punish him for breaking the rules. But if you do not wish to follow the orders given to you, I am allowed to threaten you to make you follow me. Master Maahes, I presume, is an adequate threat, is he not?”

You wanted to throw the soup. Maybe not at the owl because she is only doing her job. But at something. Did you risk getting rubbed down by the prince in a bath? Or thoroughly destroyed on the floor of a cell by a mountain of a man?

You grumbled and sighed. Finishing off the soup before handing the owl woman back the bowl. “Fine. Take me to the prince.”

“Excellent choice. Follow me.” The owl turned on her three toed feet and led the way out of the dungeons. You expected to see Maahes around every corner. But as you scaled more and more stairs, you felt like Maahes was no longer around. The owl woman looked calm as she hopped up each step. Her feathered hands gliding along the banister of the staircase as she walked.

You couldn’t stop staring at the way she literally jumped up every step. It was kind of adorable.

“What are you?” You asked. Unsure how to entirely word your enquiry without sounding rude. But the owl woman didn’t seem to mind. She kept walking as she answered.

“My name is Nola. I am Prince Hezirus’ head Steward of the estate.” Nola finally gave a reaction by her feathers puffing up proudly with the title. But it didn’t answer your question. And when you voiced this, Nola glanced at you with her own quizzical look. “What do you mean? I am Nola. Stewardess of the estate.”

You were unsure if Nola just didn’t understand the question. Or was not giving you the proper answer on purpose. You decided to leave it. Maybe even ask Hezirus if you needed something to talk about. “So…the prince asked to bathe with me?”

“He asked me to bring you to him while he bathed, yes.” Nola nodded. Her hopping gait shifted to a walk once the stairs leveled out onto flat ground.

“Why?” You asked.

“I would assume to bathe.” Was Nola’s response. And it was physically painful not to roll your eyes. Was this how all Fae creatures spoke, or just Nola? Another question you added to the list you were going to ask of the prince.

You gave up trying to make small talk and followed Nola to a beautiful set of wooden doors. Bronze and gold encrusted the carvings of a tree in autumn. And when Nola approached, the doors opened. Splitting the tree directly down the center.

Nola halted by the open doors and stepped to the side. Bowing her curved beak. “In you go. Call for me if you need an escort back to your cell.” Her tone was so sweet it didn’t at all fit the situation. And you stuttered a thank you as she turned on her clawed feet and hurried away.

You hesitantly stepped into the room beyond the entrance. And when your bare feet touched warm stone, the doors behind you swung closed. And your ears picked up a very soft click of a lock setting into place.

The room in front of you was as if you stepped into a forest oasis. A large pool of crystal clear water filled the majority of the large room, steaming in the early morning light. Moss circled the pool. Poking through rocks and twisted roots that acted as a natural border encircling the pond. The soft green flooring felt as soft as a cloud under your feet as you stepped closer to the water. Inspecting its depth, and finding that it was merely deep enough to come to your waist.

A harp was playing somewhere, filling the room with a soft lullaby-like melody. And cascading over the room was a ceiling made from the branches of a white tree. Golden leaves rustled in a cool breeze and small birds fluttered between the thick, pale branches. Sunlight streamed into the room through an open ceiling, giving the water a pale gold reflection.

“Over here, pet.” The prince’s smooth voice echoed softly through the room. You followed his voice over a path of moss, circling around a flowering hedge, acting as a barrier to shield the area beyond from the door. And there you found the prince by a tumbling waterfall. His long hair twisted up into a loose bun and his bare chest had a glistening sheen to it. His wings were soaked through. Sprawled heavily over the surface of the water as Hezirus dipped lower into the pool to wash off the soap from his shoulders.

“I see the dungeons didn’t dampen your light.” The prince hummed. Those bronze colored eyes traced heavily over your body as you moved closer. “Come join me. You reek of the lizard and the filthy cells.”

You could feel the warmth of the pool even from your position by the edge. The chill was still heavily set in your skin and the thought of a warm bath sounded heavenly. But the dress wasn’t designed for swimming. And you didn’t see any swimwear around to put on. Only plush towels and more plants. Even a cart full of food and beverages.

“Is there a problem, pet?” Hezirus’ tone made you snap your attention back to him. There was an undertone of impatience but his gaze was gentle, waiting for you to join him.

You sighed, feeling your cheeks burn with embarrassment. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

Hezirus chuckled. And he gestured to himself…all of himself…from the chiseled, flawless chest and down below the water where you could see his cock swinging freely in the water. “Neither do I. Strip. No one will see you.” The last few words were a tease. One that was carried on a smile that carved his beautiful face into something gorgeous.

It hadn’t been an order. But you felt the promise of one lingering on the edge of his words. You sighed and threw your pride and embarrassment aside, sliding the sleeves of the dress down your shoulders and then wriggling out of the tight material.

Hezirus’ gaze didn’t budge from you as you became bare in front of him. Raking down over your breasts and the curve of your hips. You ignored how he licked his lips when your core was left unclothed.

And his smile broadened when you quickly slipped into the pool. Hissing as the warm water bit at your frozen skin.

“There. Isn’t that better?” He asked, leaning back in the water so he was somewhat floating on the surface. Thankfully his hips were still below the water so you were graced with not seeing anything.

It was better. Much, much better. You sighed and let yourself sink until only your head was above water. Enjoying the sweet salvation that the warm waters brought. Your eyes even closed for a second, but they flew open when you felt a finger graze along your arm.

You jerked back. And Hezirus laughed, raising his hand as if showing you where they were. He was much closer than before. “My apologies. I couldn’t help but touch you. You look so soft.”

“Please,” You bit at the word, like it was a bad taste in your mouth. “Don’t touch me.”

“Or what? You’ll splash me? Get water in my hair?” Hezirus scoffed. But thankfully, moved back a step and his wings made a wave behind him as they shifted. “But as you wish. I won’t touch you until you say so.”

You raised an eyebrow, surprised there was no fight in the prince to get closer. “You’re awfully compilable for a fae.”

“And you’re awfully skittish for a woman who willingly jumped into a fairy circle.” Hezirus retorted. Lacing his fingers behind his head. His arms flexed as he rested his head against his palms. You looked away before your staring was noticed. And you half turned your body so you could start rubbing your hands over your body. Using the water to try and get some of the dirt and grime off your skin. There was a smell on you. It was unpleasant and you hoped it wasn’t something you had laid in while in the cell.

“Want me to scrub your back?” Hezirus asked as he floated nearer to the waterfall. His gaze still fixed on you as your palms brushed over your shoulders and sides.

You shot the prince a glare. Giving up trying to get your fingers to reach the area that you weren’t flexible enough to reach. “I don’t know, maybe you should just make me let you.”

Hezirus’ eye roll was followed with an exaggerated roll of his head, and a groan of irritation. “I merely made you drink water. It would have been more cruel of me to let you starve at that table.” Hezirus stood and made his way over to you. You had somehow moved away from him so much that your back hit the side of the pool. And Hezirus approached until he was directly in front of you. You don’t remember him being so tall. Towering over you with his wings creating a shadow around you. Like he was deliberately trying to crowd you.

A chill ran up your spine. Despite the warm water that surrounded you.

“And are you cruel?” You asked. Your voice felt too quiet against the racing pulse in your ears. Your heart pounded and you wanted nothing more than to avert your gaze from the fixing gaze of the prince..

“I can be if you want me too.” Hezirus said. Leaning so close that you could see flecks of gold in those pretty bronze eyes. “But you’d enjoy our time together less if I was. Now, do you want me to scrub your back?” He offered his hand out to you. Tilting his head in a way that a stray strand of brown hair tumbled from the bun.

You blinked and suddenly the shadows were gone and the Hezirus standing in front of you watched you with a gentle smile. Your heart calmed and you released the breath you didn’t know you were holding.

“O-Ok…but nothing cheeky. Just…Just my back.” You said. Forcing your eyes to narrow, despite the warning bells that were sounding in your head.

“Nothing cheeky.” Hezirus repeated. And he twirled his fingers, gesturing for you to turn and rest against the edge of the pool. Which you did. A little hesitantly. But you followed the unspoken order and laid your arms over the side of the pond. The moss was cool under your heated skin and the rock that was pressed against your stomach felt rough against your skin. But you forced yourself to relax. Holding back the flinch that attempted to jerk you away from the hands that brushed along your spine.

Hezirus was gentle. His fingertips felt like the ghost of a breeze against your skin. And as his palm pressed against your back, you felt a weird sensation spread over your skin.

“It’s just soap.” Hezirus explained as you tried to look at what was in his hands. The prince titled his hand up so you could sniff the substance. A simple white bar of soap that smelled strongly of honey and…some other sweet scent. “It’s made from the sap of a tree that grows only in the groves of my estate.” The prince explained when he saw your quizzical look. “When in its natural state, it can burn through fabric and sting the skin. But refine it and it is better than any moisturizer I know. And the smell is one of my favorite scents.”

You couldn’t help but laugh a little. Of course he would lather you up in a smell he liked. “It’s not going to affect me differently?” You asked. “You know, because I’m human?”

“I’m going off the assumption that if any of the people in these lands can use it, humans can as well.” Hezirus replied. When one hand circled your skin with soap, sudsing the entirety of your back in white bubbles, the other massaged and kneaded. You felt the tension in your spine release and even a knot in your shoulder give way under the prince’s touch.

But as you asked, his hands never went any further than your back. Perhaps teasing your sides and dipped under your lower back. But they never found purchase or strayed for too long.

Eventually, you were so relaxed that you laid your head on your arms. Your eyes half closed as you lost yourself to the gentle pampering. Hezirus’ hands cupped water over your back to wash away the soap before returning to spread another layer of bubbles.

At some point, you knew this was going on for longer than it needed to. But it wasn’t until the prince huffed irritably that you sat up and turned to look at him.

“What’s wrong?” You asked. Your voice almost slurred, you were so relaxed.

“Unless you allow me to wash the rest of you, the smell is going to stay.” Hezirus sighed. Pouting as he looked you over. “Let me wash the rest of you.”

“Absolutely not.” You said. Feeling more alert now you were standing again. “I said nothing cheeky.”

A grimace flashed over Hezirus’ expression but before you could properly assume his reaction, it was replaced by a look of exasperation. “I won’t do anything cheeky. I just want you to stop smelling like Maahes.”

You crossed your arms over your bare breasts and shook your head. “Either you let me do it or I’ll stay smelling like your friend.” You opened your palm for him and wiggled your fingers.

The prince scoffed, as if you had offended him. But curled his lips in a distasteful grunt and slapped the soap into your waiting hand. “Fine. Be quick about it.”

You smiled and nodded. And immediately started to run the bar along your arms and across your chest. Then turned your body around so Hezirus’ gaze didn’t leave heat marks on your breasts as the bubbles started to form over your nipples. He laughed but said and did nothing about it.

You washed yourself twice. Once apparently wasn’t enough for Hezirus. “You’re not washing yourself correctly. Just let me do it.”

You moved away when he tried to take the soap from you. You saw anger flash in his eyes but thankfully Hezirus’ words remained free of an order. “Gods, you’re stubborn.” He snapped.

After some time, the prince seemed satisfied enough that he allowed you to relax again in the pool. But your floating around and exploring the gardens circling the water was soon cut short.

Hezirus left the bath with a cascade of water following him from his wings. He dragged what seemed like half the pond out onto the moss covered ground as he walked over to the rack of towels and grabbed a large plush one.

Your eyes must have strayed for a touch too long because he turned sharply, catching you staring at the muscles of his back stretch and flex with every twitch of his feathered limbs.

“Beautiful aren’t they?” Hezirus said, smiling when your eyes darted to the ground. But you then looked back up at him as he stretched out the left wing to its full extent. Even when wet, the feathers gleamed in the bright sunlight that streamed through the yellow leaves. Flecks of gold twinkled like stars throughout the deep brown tone of his feathers.

Yes, they were beautiful. He was beautiful. In a way that seems unnaturally so. But you placed that uneasiness that came from looking at him for too long down to his nature. A Fae. Or at least a creature your mind was perceiving as a threat.

Something in you still screamed at you to run and hide. And those voices heightened when Hezirus lowered his wing, turning to you with one of his beautiful smirks. “Dry them for me.” He said, the tone bordering a command but the order didn’t stick. You could tell he was leaving it as a suggestion, so the magic didn’t take hold of you.

You glared at him, but found yourself moving through the water towards him as he wrapped the towel around his waist before fully turning to you. “You could say please.” You mumbled. Heaving your relaxed body out of the pool to join Hezirus by the towel rack.

“I prefer to hear ‘please’ in other contexts.” Hezirus replied. Shifting through various jars of leaves and ground powder on one of the carts before finding what he wanted and scooped a small teaspoon of it into a cup. “It would sound better on your lips, anyway.”

You stared at him. Your mind stumbled as you tried to come up with a retort, but ultimately failed to do so. Your thoughts are too flustered to find something coherent to say back. Hezirus didn’t seem to notice. He poured steaming hot water from a porcelain kettle into a cup and stirred the contents. The clear liquid turned brown and the scent of strong tea filled your nose.

“Grab a towel and start drying. Be sure not to crinkle a single feather.” Hezirus said. Sipping on the scalding hot drink. Smacking his lips and turning back to the cart to place a sugar cube into the cup. “And please, feel free to get cheeky.”

Your cheeks burned but you nodded. Sensing the threat behind the ‘suggestion’ if you didn’t do as you were told right away. Grabbing two plush towels from the rack, you wrapped one around your body and made sure it was secure enough that it wouldn’t fall while you were moving. And then moved up behind Hezirus as he flexed and his wings fanned open. Water dripped from the tips of each feather. But the moss soaked up the escaping liquid. Leaving your feet only damp against the soft ground, rather than standing in a puddle of water.

You looked up at the lord’s wings and pouted a little. There was so much real estate to dry. You would probably go through ten towels before he was dry.

“A problem?” Hezirus asked. Tilting his head so he could glance at you over his shoulder.

“I’m just trying to figure out where to start.” You told him, somewhat truthfully. You were also fighting the urge to reach out and touch his wings.

“My servants usually begin by drying the feathers by my shoulders and work inwards. From the tip of the wings down.” Hezirus explained. And it shocked you a little by how genuine he sounded. Like he was actually trying to help and not give a bit of cheek to your hesitance.

You nodded and did as he said. Placing the towel between the blades of his wings, against his skin, and started to wipe. His back felt like you were wiping down a rock wall. Smooth and hard against the palm of your hand under the soft fabric of the towel. And his feathers felt like shards of glass. The fine edges caught on the plush material of the towel. And you started to get frustrated with pulling the towel off the pin-needle threads of his feathers. It slowed you and eventually you had to discard the shredded remains of the first towel for another. But you still dabbed the feathers with as much care as you could. The strange, hard make of these feathers still felt fragile. Under your fingers, it felt like you could squeeze them and they’d shatter like a thin panel of glass.

Eventually, your arms started to ache. You were halfway done with the left wing and on your fourth towel since the others kept catching or became too wet for you to use. But it was taking you a long time to finish this task. By the time you got to the next wing, it probably would be dry.

Hezirus didn’t seem to mind how long it was taking you. He made himself another cup of hot tea and seemed content to hum along with the music that wafted through the baths. Occasionally, when your hand slipped and your fingers met the smooth, sharp lines of his feathers, he’d stop and glance at you. The first time this happened, you feared you had sliced your hand open. But your skin was left unmarked. Only his feather was damaged. Which you quickly smoothed down and ensured the rachis (the very thin base of the feather) hadn’t snapped under your touch. You kept your frustration and discomfort in check so you didn’t hurry and make a mistake. But there was so much to dry out.

And then you had to do the undersides of each wing as well! Which was a very intense experience. Not because anything was different, but Hezirus’ gaze was fixed on you the entire time. Over the lip of his cup when he sipped on his tea. Or when his head tilted, smirking when you had to readjust your towel when it started to slip.

You ignored him as much as you could. Keeping your eyes fixed on the feathers you were carefully drying.

An hour seemed to go by before you finally completed drying each wing. Your arms felt like jelly and in the heat of the room, you were sweating a little. Hezirus stretched his wings and curled one around himself so his fingers could glide over a few feathers. Testing your work.

“You’ll get better at it.” He said in amusement when his fingers came back with the smallest amount of moisture on his skin. “But next, you’ll need to oil them.”

“Oil them?” You huffed. Your arms, that had started to regain strength, gave a promising ache at the thought of another strenuous task. You followed Hezirus through another set of doors that led into, what you could only describe as, a fitting room. There were many shelves and dressers around the room. Mirrors lined the walls and a short stage was placed in front of the right hand wall. Obviously where Hezirus would stand to get fitted or stare at himself in each outfit.

Hezirus led you over to a large vanity with a massive round mirror. And Hezirus sat in the plush cushioned stool in front of the vanity, handing you a crystal bottle. The contents were clear with a slight shimmer when you tilted the bottle and the light trickled through the thick substance inside.

“You will only need a small amount for each wing. Too much and my feathers will be too heavy to lift me.” Hezirus explained, reaching into a drawer of the vanity and removed a silken hand-towel. Then grabbed a fine toothed comb with white teeth from the vanity top. Handing both to you before looking at you through the reflection of the mirror. “A little bit on the cloth, then as you spread it over my feathers, run the comb through the threads.”

“And what does this do?” You asked, popping the lid off the crystal bottle and dropping a small ball of oil onto the cloth. You then placed the bottle at your feet and moved closer to Hezirus. You followed your previous work and started running the cloth over the feathers nearest to his shoulder blades. Running the material down and the comb followed behind it. Sliding between the feather’s threads like a hot knife through butter. It gave the feathers a brilliant sheen and a nice aroma started to fill your nose.

“It makes my feathers look pretty.” Hezirus said simply. Watching you work over his shoulder. His wings were fanned out but relaxed. The longer feathers on the bottom of his wings curled as they rested against the marble flooring. You had a thought to say something, to warn Hezirus of crinkling the beautiful feathers. But his question scattered your thoughts, “What was it like falling through the fairy circle? Did it hurt?”

You thought back to when you tumbled through the darkness and cold. The harsh iron smell that welcomed you as your body free-fell through a vortex of freezing wind. You don’t remember it hurting. And you said as much. “It happened rather quickly. To be honest, I was drunk at the time, so if anything amazing or terrifying happened, I didn’t notice it.”

Hezirus hummed thoughtfully. His left wing twitched as the comb slipped and scratched the skin beneath the glossy feathers. You muttered an apology. Catching the small glare from the lord through the mirror. “Before the rings were outlawed, humans would come through battered and broken. Some even dead. You were lucky.”

You didn’t feel lucky. But you guessed there could be worse fates than combing oil into an other-worldly being's wings. “Why were they outlawed?” You asked. Though you could probably make a few good guesses.

“The new Queen disliked the use of human pawns in our wars.” Hezirus said. There was no judgment in his voice, only facts. Like he was reading it out of a book. “Some of the courts in our realm bred humans to fight against their enemies. Your kind are easier to grow and train than the long maturity of Fae warriors. You could never hold a flame to a trained elf or Fae lordling. But your numbers and stubbornness are nothing to scoff at. That, and she didn’t like how much mortal blood was running through her subjects.”

Your work stalled for a moment as you took in this information. But you quickly started moving the comb and cloth again when Heazirus shuffled his wings impatiently. “But Jackal had one open.”

“I doubt even he knew it was still active,” Hezirus said. His eyes searched your face for something. Horror? Disgust? But he only found silent concentration as you tried not to snag the comb on his skin again. “You haven’t asked why I have so many in my manor.”

“I don’t think I need to know.” You replied with a half shrug. Moving a step along his wing so you could start on the next section. “I could guess, I’m sure. But I think it would only horrify me.”

“Guess.” Hezirus smiled a vicious, almost hungry, type of smile. “I doubt you can guess correctly.”

It was your turn to glare at the lord over his shoulder. “I’d rather keep the rest of my sanity intact, thanks. I’m still trying to come to terms that I’m not having a really weird drunken dream. That feels very real.” Your fingers brushed over the feathers again. Feeling the sharpness of their edges before wiping the cloth over them, cleaning any smudge you might have left behind.

“You think you’re dreaming?” Hezirus asked. The smile faded into one that was more casual. Less predatory. “Is it common for you to have dreams that seem so real you question them?”

“Sometimes.” You replied. “I once had a nightmare that had me think something was in my house. Not a person, but a creature. Another time, I could taste the sweetness of a treat I was eating while dreaming. Made me very hungry when I woke up.”

Hezirus chuckled. A proper, light-hearted laugh that made his wings shift against the cloth. “What was the treat?”

You attempted to remember. But you couldn’t. You only recalled waking up confused and the memory of a flavor on your tongue.

And when you said this, Hezirus looked confused. “You don’t remember your dreams?”

“It depends.” You said. Moving along his wing, Hezirus stretched the limb as much as you needed to continue your work. “Nightmares are easier for me to remember. But I think that’s because the mind wants to remember it for future survivability. Even if it is my mind making them up and they’re not real. Dreams scatter the moment I open my eyes. It’s like grasping at floating specks of dust. The more you try to catch them, the more they evade your hands.”

Hezirus looked deep in thought as you combed through his feathers in silence. You completed the first wing and stepped over to the other, continuing the motions. This felt a lot easier than drying him.

“We don’t dream.” Hezirus said suddenly. “Some of us have prophecies when we sleep. But that’s linked to a power very few have. I’ve heard Maahes waking up, roaring at unknown voices. I doubt Jackal even sleeps. But I didn’t know humans could dream.”

It was your turn to glance at Hezirus in puzzlement. “You don’t dream?” Hezirus shook his head. “I suppose, a few humans don’t either. Or maybe, they do but they’re gone before they wake up. I don’t think you’re missing out on much. Some of the nightmares I’ve had are…wild…”

Hezirus’ brow grew faint lines as he stared at himself in the mirror. Deep in thought. You allowed the silence to grow between you. Concentrating on the task at hand. Even when you stood in front of him, polishing and combing the undersides of his wings, Hezirus continued to stare at nothing. As if he was trying to remember if he had ever dreamed of something before.

Then his eyes slid to you. Contemplating. “What causes your nightmares?”

You shrugged again. “Lots of things. Past trauma. Stress. I once watched a movie that made me dream of monsters in the dark.”

His wings shifted and you paused your combing to let Hezirus get comfortable. He then said, “Would you expect my home to visit you in your nightmares?”

You turned to look at him. Surprised by the question. “Oh, um…I don’t think so. Don’t get me wrong, I’m freaking out a little about all this. And Maahes definitely left an impression. But the dungeons might be the worst part so far. Or maybe the shadow things Jackal has. I don’t know. There’s a lot going on.” You returned to preening him and Hezirus fell quiet again.

You worked until each feather gleamed like polished glass. And Hezirus stood. His wing curled around himself so he could inspect your handiwork. You were surprised when he smiled and his wings tucked themselves tightly against his spine. “Not half bad. With practice, your hands will move more quickly. And I won’t be sitting here for hours while you shred my flesh apart.” He said. And you replied by rolling your eyes. Returning the items in your hands to the vanity and drawers.

“If I’m so bad at it, why don’t you get someone else to do it?” You asked. Watching the lord as he went to a dresser and opened it. Revealing a collection of clothes hanging on silver hookers. They were arranged in various shades of red and gold. And when Hezirus opened another cupboard, those were aligned in tones of blue and green.

“How else are you going to improve your skills?” Hezirus replied. His slender fingers delicately sliding down the hem of a gorgeous sapphire coat. “If you are to be my favored pet, I want you to do more than sit around my feet and look pretty.”

You pouted at his words. “Don’t you have servants that could do a much better job?”

“Of course. But none are as fun to play with as you. They don’t bite back. They’re so afraid to make a mistake that it takes longer sometimes for them to pamper my wings.”

Hezirus shifted back to the first dresser and removed a beautiful robe of autumn red and shimmering gold details. You averted your eyes as the towel dropped from around his waist. You felt him glance at you, but you didn’t give him the satisfaction of looking at the beautiful body in front of you.

Beautiful tanned skin, chiseled in a way that would put some Greek statues to shame.

When you saw the red and gold stop shifting in the corner of your eye, you turned your attention back to Hezirus. Who reached up to his hair and pulled a single pin from the bun. And a silky cascade of brown hair tumbled down over his shoulders. Perfectly untangled, as if he had already put a comb through it as it fell from the pin.

“Now, you my sweet thing, need something spectacular to wear.” Hezirus beamed as he turned to you. “We have a big day of sitting around listening to very old nobles talk. So, I need you to look stunning enough for me to distract myself when I get bored.”

You gawked at him. Trying to form a question, but having too many in your mind to properly make one, as he herded you into another room. His wing acted as a barrier behind you so you were forced to walk next to him.

Through another door, was a room smaller than the first fitting room. But very similar in layout. But here, instead of dressers and ranks of clothes, there were fabrics and materials on rollers. Stacked on top of the other to the ceiling. And there was a person here. A very tall, slender being with four arms and a face that reminded you of a praying mantis. But they looked human. Or…human-like.

When you entered, their long fingernails clicked excitedly and they bowed so low that their pointed chin almost touched the ground. “My Lord, what brings you in here? Are your robes not suitable?” Worry coloured the being’s voice. But Hezirus shook his head, waving away the creature’s concern.

“No, no, your clothes are fitted well, as always. But, I need something for my new pet.” The wing against your back pushed you forward. The strength behind it had you stumbling a few steps until you were standing directly under the chin of the being with too many arms. “Something that catches a gaze but keeps them wondering. Thin but modest.”

The being in front of you tilted its head and your throat tightened as two abnormally white eyes peered down at you. Your skin crawled as its gaze filtered over your body with precise concentration.

“Accessories?” The being asked. And Hezirus thought it over for a moment, but shook his head.

“No. She’s pretty enough without baubles and trinkets distracting the eye.” There wasn’t a flash of a smirk or a teasing stare that you could imagine would come with a sentence like that. And something about the genuine look in the lord’s eye that had your chest warming.

“Very well. Step here.” The being instructed with a wave of two hands to a small platform in front of a corner of mirrors. You hesitantly did as you were told. Staring at four versions of yourself at different angles.

Then, before you could protest, the towel was ripped from your body and discarded across the room. You yelped as the cool air bit at your skin and when you tried to cover yourself up, the being hissed like an angry snake. “Stay still.” Bony fingers wrapped around your wrist and your hand was yanked away from your chest. The harsh touch made you grimace. But the being’s hand quickly disappeared when a growl tore through the room.

You looked at Hezirus’ reflection from the mirror. His eyes were tearing into the creature by your side, the bronze now molten and bubbling with a restrained anger as the creature cowered at your ankles. You heard it whimper. And you didn’t blame it. Though the glare wasn’t set on you, the heat from the lord’s eyes was enough to sizzle your own skin just being in proximity of the target. “Forgive me, Lord.” The being chittered pathetically. “I only-”

“Bruise her and I will take an arm.” Hezirus warned it. Then the anger faded as quickly as it sparked. And the creature stood straight again. Its hands were now careful and light on your skin as it started taking measurements.

Fabric was pressed against your skin. Colors were matched to the tone of your complexion. All at the nod or shake of Hezirus’ head. And when Hezirus liked a color, or the feel of a material against your skin, the creature started to stitch. Skirts were placed around your waist and fabric wrapped around your bosom. Tightly enough that they were perked higher than they normally would. Giving them more volume. Almost to the point that your chest looked like it was going to jump out of the dress that was developing around your body.

The dress was almost an exact replica of the one Jackal had you dressed up in for Maahes. However, the material didn’t sparkle and was thicker…barely. The shape of your body was revealed only by the tight confines of the outfit. A deep ‘V’ revealed the even deeper crevasse of your breasts. It was gentle on your skin. It was unlike anything you’ve touched before. And the stitching that held it all together created gentle swirls, giving a delicate shape to your hips and thighs.

When the creature was done, you felt like a doll put on display for Hezirus to inspect. And he did so thoroughly. “Are you comfortable?” Hezirus asked. His fingers sliding along your hips. He didn’t comment when you pulled away from his touch. Glaring at him.

“I doubt you’ll let me put on a jacket?” You asked. And when Hezirus shook his head with a teasing smirk, you shrugged. “It’s fine.” More than fine. This dress looked like it cost more than you could afford in a lifetime. And when you looked at yourself in the mirror, you couldn’t deny how goddamn gorgeous you looked in it.

“Good. Because you’ll be sitting in it for the rest of the day.” Hezirus said. And with a gesture of his hand, the being beside him presented you with slippers. Silk and soft soles welcomed your feet as the being carefully slipped them on.

Another being was summoned to the first room and Hezirus had you sit in the vanity chair. The woman, a beautiful rosy cheeked elf, her pointed ears poked through neat strands of blonde hair, stared in shock as Hezirus asked her to do your hair. You weren’t sure if it was because you were sitting in a seat obviously reserved from Hezirus, or because you were human, but the elf’s hands were hesitant on your hair. Until Hezirus barked an order for her to hurry up.

Your hair was combed and made to shine. A pin was slipped between the strands, a beautiful piece of rubies and watery pink stones. Again, something you could never afford. Something that Hezirus was placing on you as if it was normal.

Once your hair was to his liking, Hezirus dismissed the elf and you followed him out of the room and into the neverending corridors of his estate.

You passed windows that overlooked the front of the manor and saw a large crowd gathering there. Your eyes widened when you noticed the line continued through the gardens and out past the estate gates. “Are they all here to see you?” You asked. Hurrying to catch up with Hezirus’ long strides.

He nodded. “Even escaping to my holiday home doesn’t allow me to evade my responsibilities. I’m sure some are even here to see you. The nosy vultures that they are.”

You swallowed the ball that was growing in your throat. And tried to speak without the unease flowing through your words. “They won’t…try anything would they?”

Hezirus laughed. But it wasn’t light or playful, it was cruel. Vicious. “They can definitely try. But as a guest in my home, any slight against you would be a slight against me. They’ll gawk and slobber at you. But no, my dear pet, none will touch you. You have my word.”

That sharp iron smell hit your nose and you expected something to happen. But nothing did. Your legs and arms moved as you wished and you didn’t see anything change as magic flowed around you. You looked at Hezirus and he merely smiled at you. Your silent question, unanswered.

You followed Hezirus into a throne room. A vast room of polished tiles, hanging tapestries and a single carpet that rolled in the center of it all. From the gold doors that were closed, to the throne of carved wood, stone and metal that sat at the opposite end. The throne was magnificent, but simple. And as you got closer, you noticed the intricate designs of leaves carved into each different material.

Then there was the seat next to it. A simple, low to the ground stool that was large enough for you to sit on and even curl your legs under yourself. The cushion was deep green and looked comfortable. But next to the throne, it looked like a pet bed.

“Sit.” The Fae Lord said. Again, not an order. An offering of comfort. And despite yourself, your nose curled a little at the thought of what this was leading to.

“I’m not a dog.” You spat and Hezirus’ eyes twinkled.

“Would you rather sit on my lap? There’s nowhere else to sit.” Hezirus replied. Seating himself on the throne and kicking an ankle over his knee. The robe flowed over him like a red blanket in a regal display of power. A crown of gold vines and roots sat atop his head. You don’t remember ever seeing him put that on.

You eyed the nook of his lap with disdain and slumped down on the stool. His chuckle echoed through the throne room.

The same elf from before approached you and started fiddling with your dress until it pooled around your ankles elegantly. You found yourself straightening your back as two guards, strapped in armor, also stepped closer to the throne. To their lord.

And the elf girl quickly retreated from your side when Hezirus waved his hand and the gold doors slowly opened.

You caught sight of many faces and bodies pushing to be first through the door. You almost laughed at the polite scramble of the two at the front of the pack as they tried to beat each to Hezirus’ feet. If they weren’t trying to hold their heads high and feign boredom, you were sure they’d be sprinting to beat the other to the throne.

“My Lord,” The one on the right rushed to greet the Fae Lord first. Much to the disgruntled glare of the other. Who fell silent and stepped back. Obviously having lost whatever race was happening between them. “I hope your morning has been pleasant. I see you have a new pet, congratulations.”

The man’s eyes flickered to you. And your whole body tensed with pins and needles as an unworldly blue gaze settled on you. A hunger blazed through the stranger and your pulse stuttered with a spike of nervousness, before settling as the man turned back to the lord beside you.

Hezirus tilted his head in a polite greeting. “Welcome. Make this quick, there is quite the line behind you.”

“Yes, yes, let me start off with the important query I come to you today.”

You grew bored incredibly quickly. You sat beside Hezirus while what seemed like hundreds of people came to ask him questions or ask permission. Once or twice, a person came to his attention and offered an alliance between houses. Something about a person in Hezirus’ court that would be a fine match for the person’s offspring. Hezirus seemed disinterested in it all. But spoke politely and firmly. His words carried authority, and none challenged it.

As much as the people stared at their lord, you were centered with quite a few curious and hungry eyes. Hezirus wasn’t kidding when people would slobber in your direction. You noticed some beast-like persons wiping their lips after staring at you for too long. Others snickered. Some sneered in a way that made your blood turn cold. Frozen with fear.

When these people came forth, Hezirus shifted and his hand casually drooped over the arm of the throne. His fingers brushed over your shoulder, sometimes playing with a curl of your hair, and you felt a calm wash over you. The scent of iron and fresh air following the sensation. When this happened, those who had cruel eyes that drank you in, turned away and hissed. As if burned.

Hours passed and your eyes wandered from strange faces and lust-full gazes, to inspect the room around you. You counted twenty tapestries. Each with their own design and colors. Houses, maybe. Courts of royalty in this strange world?

Then you noticed that the tiles on the floor had a decorated outline to them. And weren’t just colored shards of greens and browns and golds. A forest of sharp leaves and elegant flowing roots. Strange animals bounded between ferns and colorful flowers. You busied yourself with inspecting these floors, until Hezirus tensed beside you and his hand disappeared from your arm. Leaving warm tingles as his back straightened.

You moved your attention to the person in front of you. They looked similar to the guards that were positioned on either side of Hezirus’ throne. But this one was in green, rather than gold and brown. You hadn’t been paying attention to the conversation, but their pale eyes flicked to you. “You know what will happen when the Queen finds out about it.” It took you a moment to realize who the person spoke about. You. “Harboring humans is outlawed. Your pet will need to be sent home or killed, if you wish to avoid any punishment from her majesty.”

You risked a glance at Hezirus. And almost wished you hadn’t. The sheer anger in his eyes had his pupils blown wide and his knuckles white on the arms of his chair. You glimpsed talons sneak out from his human-like nails. “The human is under my protection until I find her a way home.” Hezirus replied. His calm voice contrasted the expression that painted his face. “I am searching for the cause of her coming here. Your Queen has no need to send a reminder of her laws. I know them well. Since I helped write them.”

Surprise riddled through you. And a wave of murmuring washed through the crowd behind the messenger. Who didn’t look convinced. “You prance it around like a prized horse and expect me to believe you are not…using her.”

Hezirus’ talons scratched at an imaginary imperfection on his throne as he replied. “Would your Queen rather I lock her up? Forget about her in the cold cells until I can shove her back to her realm? Keeping her fed, clean, clothed and comfortable is my priority. She is my guest here. Not a prisoner. Not a caged beast I found in the forest. A guest.”

Something about the word and how Hezirus said it carried more weight than you understood. And the messenger’s eyes narrowed in on you for a moment before he bowed. “Very well. I will inform my Queen of your intent. But, my Lord, know that she is watching you. If this goes on for too long or it disappears-”

“She,” Hezirus hissed. “Will not leave this estate unless it is to go back to her realm.”

As if that’s all he needed to hear, the messenger bowed again and left. The crowd watched him leave, continuing to mutter amongst themselves as Hezirus relaxed. His hand returned to lightly touch your shoulder. And you didn’t lean away from his fingers as they drew circles on your skin. Even if the talons left red lines instead of warm goosebumps.

Late in the afternoon, when the sun started to dip and shadows stretched over the estate, Hezirus finally stood. The room bowed to their retreating lord. You hurried after him. Taking a glance in your direction as a signal for you to come with him.

His wings shifted as he rolled his shoulders. Stretching and groaning as the doors behind you both closed. “I couldn’t take it anymore.” Hezirus scoffed. Continuing down the corridor, with you trailing behind his wings. “Not one had anything interesting to say. All demands and no compromises. At least some had some news of the lands on the outskirts of the forest. But still nothing interesting. What do they think drabbling to me will get them in return?”

You let Hezirus rant. Your legs were just happy to be moving again. You had been shifting restlessly on your stool all day. Unable to find another comfortable position until you were leaning against the throne and your legs sprawled out beside you. The elf girl had come out each time and shifted your skirts so they sat elegantly around you. Regardless of how you sat. Hezirus had taken the new position to reach new skin. Anytime they dipped lower than your collarbone, you shifted, and his fingers returned to your arms or brushed his knuckles along your jawline. Your skin itched from the claws he still hadn’t retracted. The lines on your skin weren’t harmful or permanent, already fading now he had left you alone. But the slight irritation made you long to bathe.

“Is it like that every day?” You asked. Your dress flowing around your legs, as light as a cloud.

“Not every day.” Hezirus sighed. Slowing just enough to let you catch up and walk next to him. “I offer my attention to them every so often so the nobles don’t get antsy. They swarmed here to see you. The news of your arrival left my estate quicker than I anticipated.”

“Did you mean it?” You asked. Lifting the dress a little so you could climb the stairs he took unhindered. “When you said you are looking for a way to send me back?”

“Yes.” Hezirus said. And you felt the glowing light of hope and relief flood through you. “You can’t stay here forever. As much as I would want that. But the Queen’s laws dictate any human that comes here, regardless of free will or otherwise, is to be sent home right away or killed. To stop any…procreation and abuse against your kind.”

“You said you helped write them, the laws.” You asked. And Hezirus nodded.

“As much as I hunger to devour you, my sweet flower, I can see the damage that it could cause if a human continued to stay in my court. The same damage I knew would unfold if those laws weren't set. Eventually, I could see your kind breaking through to our world and starting a revolution. Blood would be spilled on both sides. It wasn’t worth the risk, in my opinion. For sex and blinding pleasure. Or fodder for wars that are needless and proud.”

You nodded. Stunned, but understanding of his position. “It’s just surprising…” You said.

“Because I play with you so much that it makes me seem predatory?” Hezirus asked. And you nodded, not bothering to lie to him. He laughed softly. “Your kind never truly understood the allure you possess. You always tried to use it, and sometimes it would work, but it would get them killed more times than not. You’re like…catnip to Fae.”

“Why?” You asked. And Hezirus shrugged.

“I’ve found it to be a manner of things.” Hezirus led you into a dining room. Not the same one you first dined with Hezirus at, but very similar. It was on a higher level of the estate and the windows overlooked a garden of color. “Your blood, rich and untouched by magic, calls to some of us to be devoured. Though, many of us consider humans to be impure and toxic to consume, something about your blood calls to them. It could be a trace of Fae lingers in an ancient ancestor, passed down to an unsuspecting human. And it yearns to be with Fae-kind. Another reason is the strange obsession that grows in us when we bed a human. It has baffled my kind for centuries why we get such delicious pleasure from you. But that is the main reason. Once you lay with a human, you start to crave it.”

“We’re nothing but sex slaves in your eyes.” You said a little bitterly and Hezirus shrugged. Seating himself at the head of the table and gesturing for you to join him on his right side.

“Lust and love were commonly mistaken back then.” Hezirus explained. Leaning on his elbows that sat on the smooth surface of the dining table. “I had a friend that followed her human lover into their realm. I felt her life smolder out after some years. Consumed by the smog that plagues your world. It’s a dangerous thing, this…obsession. It’s another reason why the Queen had your kind banished from our realm. So fairies, fae and all in between are saved from the cruel fate of being consumed by a human’s allure.”

“But…we’re just…”

“Human. Yes, you are. And that alone has killed more of us than you can imagine.” Hezirus held your gaze until you tore yourself from those beautiful bronze eyes. “I have Jackal looking into how and why the ring brought you here. He has assured me that the ring had been disarmed when I ordered it. So, a mystery of why it flared to life when you stepped into the circle, is being investigated. The magic needed to take you back is dangerous. Since those traps were always a one way ticket to a cell and chains. But until then, I don’t want you to leave the estate. The Queen would find it easier to destroy you, than risk someone in my court using the portal to sneak more of you here.”

“She’d really just…kill me?”

“For the safety of her people and the forgotten truce between our worlds, yes. She’d burn you and forget about it an hour later.” Food was brought out and placed in front of you both. A warm dinner with wine to sip that matched the food perfectly.

Your stomach gave a loud rumble at the sight and smell of the food. You didn’t realize how hungry you had been until you started to eat. You waited until you started to feel full before asking the question that was dancing on the edge of your mind.

“Have you fallen to this…obsession with humans before?” You asked. And the amused smirk that curled Hezirus’ lips made you want to take back the question.

“When I was young, yes.” Hezirus replied. “My first human was gifted to me by the same friend that disappeared into your world. ‘You’ll love it,’ she said. ‘It’s like riding a cloud made of ambrosia on a summer’s morning. You’ll never want to leave their body.’ I was…let’s say, doubtful about it. But she was right. By the Hells…she was right.” Hezirus’ eyes clouded for a moment, but when they lifted from his plate to you, he was smiling playfully. “My parents were less than understanding why I spent all my time plowing humans everyday. A mated Lord and Lady had no need for outsourced pleasure. But I was young, they gave me more leverage than I deserved while being a Prince of the Wilds.”

You tilted your head, sensing a cloud of dread behind the lord’s words. “What happened?” You said the words slowly, very carefully. As if you had approached a wild beast and didn’t want to startle it.

Hezirus opened his mouth to answer. Those beautiful bronze eyes searched your face for something. And kept still, seeing the turmoil behind his gaze before he shook his head. “It’s a dark tale. And one of the reasons why I was so heavily involved in the creation of those laws.”

His tone attempted to keep the air light between you two, and something in your mind told you not to push. Or else something bad was going to happen. You merely nodded and finished your plate in peace.

Hezirus made small conversation, despite the heaviness in his gaze. You answered questions about your world. How the lives of humankind have changed over the centuries. What your life was like back there. You answered honestly. Once attempting to lie but Hezirus’ glare set a cold tremble through you and you quickly dropped your words. Giving him the truth about your mundane life.

Once dessert was presented and then eaten, Hezirus then brought you back to the bathing room. You went through the same song and dance as this morning. Hezirus would get too close and you’d shy away, snapping at him. He would laugh and tease you, splashing water at you as he backed away.

“You’re already naked, half the fun has already started.” He had said. Eyes twinkling. And you poked your tongue at him. Snatching the soap from the side of the pool before he could try and start that argument again.

Hezirus had you dry his wings and comb the oil through the feathers once more. When you questioned why he did this twice a day, the lord’s wings twitched hard enough to cause a stir of wind across the dressing room. “I like to be clean.” Was his only answer. And the tone of his voice silenced you for the rest of the task.

Once Hezirus was satisfied with your work, he led you a touch further down from the bathing room and to a pair of doors that looked far too magnificent to just be doors. The entire wooden surface were carvings of forests and battlefields. Creatures and faerie types raged in a battle beneath a canopy of trees. A gorgeous illustration of a winged wolf loomed over it all. Howling up at a sky full of stars and an eclipse in the center. It split down the middle as Hezirus approached the entrance and the doors opened up into a room the size of a house.

It was a lovely decorated room.With a roaring hearth warming the air with a large loveseat in front of it and a stack of books sat on the small table beside the lounge. Paintings filled the creamy walls and the ceiling was a mimicry of a tree’s branches in summer. Sunlight streamed through hundreds of leaves, giving the illusion of light through various shades of green.

Then your eyes fell on the absolute monster of a bed, and your heart sank a little.

This was a bedroom. Hezirus’ bedroom.

“I don’t think…” You started speaking but what were you going to say? It’s not appropriate? You didn’t want to stay here? Anything the lord wanted he very much could have. Did your worries even mean something to him? He brought you here, to his bedroom!

Hezirus strode through the room as if he didn’t hear the fear in your voice. He went to a door beside the large fireplace, hidden from you with your position by the door, and opened it.

“I know better than to force myself on a human.” Hezirus said, expression unreadable as he waved a hand through the open door. “But unless you’d rather sleep in that cold, dark cell, I’m still keeping you close.”

So he could come in later tonight while I’m asleep. I’m within arms reach and-

Hezirus sighed. Seeing your hesitation. “Would it make you feel better if I told you a little truth about myself? A piece of trust to gain trust. I used to be…like that. Used too. Humans were nothing but tools to me. A simple household item that I could use at my leisure. But I learnt my lesson in the power of consent. The brutal consequences of forcing a yes onto someone's lips when everything is screaming no. Your body is safe from me unless you say otherwise. I promise.”

His words were followed by a sting of iron on your nostrils and a cold wind that ripped through the room. You felt something in you seal. Like a lock in your skin that you couldn’t place the location of. The feeling caused a strange tingle to run through you. Enough so that you wrapped your arms around yourself and rub your skin for a bit of comfort.

But you nodded. Still feeling unsure, but anything was better than the cells. You approached Hezirus and peered into the next room. Another bedroom. It wasn’t as big as the first, but still rather spacious. And the bed was large enough that three of you could fit in it and still have room to roll around in. A smaller fireplace flickered and spat. And the room was decorated with a few paintings and shelves, crammed with books. A window looked towards a forest, dark and looming on the edge of the stone wall of the estate.

“To stop any unwarranted visits directly to your room, anything you need, let me know. And I’ll have it delivered to my room.” Hezirus explained. Keeping a respectful distance behind you as you take in the room. “I’ve already had clothes provided for you. They’ll be in the dresser.”

You glanced at the armoire and when you pulled open one of the drawers, you found lacey, thin clothing neatly folded within. You shot Hezirus a glare and he smiled innocently. “I’m going to freeze in these.” You muttered. Pulling a pair of lacey sleepwear from the piles.

“The fire will keep the room warm enough.” Hezirus replied. Leaning against the door, watching you as you inspected more of the clothes. Finding less and less coverage than the last. “Or if you get too cold, you can always share my bed.” You rolled your eyes at the honey and silk in his words. When you shot him another glare, he clicked his tongue. As if irritated. “Well, you can’t hate me for trying.”

You laughed and Hezirus smiled. You picked out a pair of sleepwear with the most material you could find. A simple pair of silk shorts and a top that looked more like a sports bra than a shirt. You tried to ignore Hezirus as he watched you drop the towel from around your body and change. Once you were clothed, Hezirus retreated to his bedroom. Taking a lounging position on the loveseat. His wings draped lazily over the cushions and sides. He almost took up the entire space. But conveniently there was a section for you between the side of the sofa and Hezirus’ side.

“No bedtime oi-” You stopped yourself before saying the word. Because you could imagine Hezirus’ reply if you finished your sentence. And the flash of mischief in his eyes confirmed your hunch. “I mean, no bedtime cleaning routine?”

Hezirus laughed and shook his head. Plucking one of the books from beside the lounge and began to read as he replied. “No, sweet flower, you can relax. I’m sure today was a lot for your adorable head. You can retire if you wish or join me by the fire.”

The warmth from the flames was comforting. The walk from the dressing room to the bedroom, with only your towel, had robbed some of the blissful heat from the baths. The night air had a chill to it. Even just standing by your bedroom door allowed some of the cold to brush along your skin.

Eyeing the very small space, tightly snug up against Hezirus and his wing, you bit you lip and tried to look for any other spot that wasn’t the floor. But there wasn’t anything else to drag over to the fire. You spotted spaces that could have once help a chair or lounge, but they were empty. How inconvenient… “I think I’ll retire.” You said. Glancing back at your room and Hezirus’ smile was soft when you said. “Goodnight, Lord Hezirus.”

“Goodnight, sweet flower. Sleep well.” The bronze of his eyes flickered with reflected flames and your heart thundered in your chest as you closed the door. You thought about locking it. He’d definitely hear it and you doubted it would stop the lord in his own home. But the whispering worry in the back of your head told you to do it anyway. And when you did, the sound echoed like a thunderclap in your room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Continuations: Prince Hezirus: Chapter 2 (Patreon)

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[gurugirl]

The Trapper | special preview

Series Summary: Set in the 1850s, a long distance romance (of sorts) between a traveler who hunts for a living and an innkeeper's daughter.

Part 1 summary (preview below from part 1): Harry's been away from Sage Lake for a year and Y/N thought she'd never see him again. But he's returned with the intention of taking her with him next time he leaves.

1.5k word preview

Harry always looked forward to visiting Sage Lake on his travels. He tried to stop there as frequently as possible but the life of a hunter and trapper on the range was unpredictable.

This year, luck had been on his side. The population of deer, muskrat, and possum was overwhelming the North plains and Harry was a skilled hunter who used this to his advantage. The overpopulation was causing disease amongst the animals and ruining farmer’s crops so Harry was seen as a savior of sorts. He sold his trappings to the locals, from town to town he’d travel. Fur, tools from bone, dried and salted meat, and even decorative pieces of jewelry he crafted.

He had quite the haul in his wagon as he entered the lovely little lakeside town. The townsfolk waved at him as his horses pulled him and his carriage through the bumpy dirt road to the inn where he knew he’d have a room waiting for him.

It had been nearly a year since he’d seen her. The innkeeper’s daughter was a beautiful and smart girl. Sassy if he was honest. Though he could put her in her place if needed. He smiled to himself thinking about their last interaction.

“Well then go mister Big Bad Hunter! Life out there is far more exciting than staying put in this old town. Nothing here to keep you anyway is there?” Y/n had her arms crossed over her chest as she stood out on the dusty porch of the inn and watched Harry load his saddle.

Harry nodded without giving her a glance. He’d always been a man of little words but for Y/n… he was different. He loved teasing her and often gave her lip back because she was fun to rile up. But in that moment, he was feeling the sting of having to leave again. Truth was he would have liked to stay longer. Figure out whatever was going on with his feelings for the girl at the inn. But he had a job to do. He was a hunter by trade and keeping the miles of Northern range and plains people fed and clothed was important to their survival, especially during the wintertime. And he needed to survive as well. All his trappings and wares were dwindled to decorative pieces and jewelry that didn’t sell as quickly as the more practical items.

He felt her hand on his arm suddenly and turned to look down at her, “Always gonna be like this? You just come when you feel like it? Leave when you please?”

He sighed. Her pretty big eyes always got him. He’d never once kissed her lips but he’d dreamt of it more often than he liked to admit, “Of course, I have to leave. I’ve got nothing left. It’s time for trapping, the season is here. People need fur and meat and tools and I intend to provide it for them. Helps me survive as well.”

She let go of his arm and huffed, turning her back, “I know. But I hoped…” Her following words were too quiet for the hunter to hear so he grasped the back of her arm and pulled her toward him.

“Speak up, girl.” He spoke and gripped her tight when she tried to yank her arm from his hold.

“S’nothin’. Go on then. Leave.” She looked downward and Harry, as much as he understood her upset, because he was feeling it quite the same, didn’t like her talking to him that way.

Smushing her cheeks together and tilting her head upward to look at him he spoke quietly, “What’s got you so upset? Hmm?”

He loosened his grip on her chin so she could speak, but he kept his hand on her face to keep her gaze on his.

“Said it’s nothin’. Let go of me.”

Harry couldn’t help but quirk up the edge of his lips. He was too aware of their unique connection and their slowly developing feelings for one another. It had been this way over the years of his travels to Sage Lake, “Don’t be sad, Y/n. I’ll return like I always do and we can go take a midnight dip in the lake once again.”

An annoyed grumble fell from her mouth and she grasped onto his forearm to pull his hand from her jaw, “Don’t care if you ever come back or not. Waste of my time.”

Harry snorted a laugh, “Liar. I’ll be back. And next time I’ll have a nice big carriage with two horses and the biggest bounty you’ve ever seen. Maybe I’ll even stay longer next time if you’re really sweet.”

Y/n’s younger brother stomped through the front salon toward the office where Y/n was checking the log and making sure the guests were all shored up on their accounts.

“Harry the hunter is here! He’s gonna want that big room again!”

Y/n looked up at her brother Matthew with wide eyes. Harry? Her Harry? She stood from her wooden chair, wiped her hands down her apron, and quickly smoothed her wild hair, peeking at her reflection in the wavy glass lamp, “Okay. Go put the linens on the bed and make sure there’s a towel and an extra pillow like he likes.”

Matthew stood grinning at her with his hands on his hips, “He’s got himself a big carriage and two horses. Looks like he might be ready to settle in for a bit.” Matthew wasn’t the only one aware of the budding romance between the pair. Though she’d never admit to it, it was obvious.

She had been pursued by a businessman not long after Harry left last time. Y/n was beyond the age of settling down. Normally young women would be married off no later than age 20 but when Y/n declined to take the man as a suitor her father was disappointed and expressed it to her for months after. The man had a decent property and made good money. It was time for her to get married, have kids. He scolded her about waiting around for Harry and she denied that was the reason she didn’t want to marry the other man. No one believed her.

But she was thankful that her father didn’t insist. That he didn’t make her entertain the attention of another man. She knew she was lucky that her father allowed her to make her own decisions and wasn’t strict like her friend’s dads were.

And now at 23, Y/n was old by most standards, which she found ridiculous.

She closed the accounts book and placed her quill pin into its inkpot as Matthew left the room. She took a deep breath and went into the salon to pace. Her heart was already thrashing in her chest and her boots clapped along the hardwood floors with each step.  

She hadn’t seen him in a year. She expected he’d return much sooner but lost hope after six months. It was difficult not knowing what to expect. Had no way to know if he’d settled in another town with a lovely girl and had already begun a family. Or perhaps he’d frozen to death out there on his excursions. Left alone with his horse tied to a log and his gun next to him, his heart gradually slowing down its cadence as his limbs turned to ice. Yes. She was the type to think the worst.

When she heard commotion from the front of the inn she shook her arms out and bent at the waist to catch her breath and soothe her nerves. She was about to face the man she couldn’t get out of her mind. He took up much of her secret thoughts and now here he was. It would be the longest they’d gone without seeing one another. A whole year and some.

Harry was tying his lead to the post when he looked up and saw the girl, hands on her pretty hips with hair that looked just as unruly as he remembered. She could never tame it. He grinned as he looked back toward his carriage. He was surprised by how excited he was to see her. His own heart thudded under his ribcage. He lifted his hat off his head and smoothed his hair back before placing it back and straightening his face out so that his expression wasn’t a giveaway to the girl at how pleased he was to see her again.

“Been a while. Looks like you kept your word. Big carriage, two horses,” she lifted her skirts and stepped down onto the dirt to take a closer look at his new setup.

Harry’s deep voice and his natural scent had her mind already spinning as he draped a heavy arm over the saddle and faced Y/n, standing over her, “I’m a man of my word. Should know that about me by now.”

She swallowed and tried not to pay attention to how he had the sleeves of his shirt pushed up his forearms, those uncouth and rude tattoos peeking out. The white material was dingy all over and the area under his arms slightly yellowed from his dried sweat. He was a hard worker and she knew his active labor as a trapper kept his body in better shape than most. And she knew he’d want a bath right away too. “Well, let’s get you to your room then.”

A/N: This will be a short series and will only be posted to my new Patreon. If you're interested in reading this love story please sign up! I will be posting plenty of patreon-exclusive content for members as well as new short series and one shots! Don't worry, though, if you're unable to subscribe, I'll continue to post new content to Tumblr regularly as I always have. xoxo

Find my Patreon here!

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[dilemmaontwolegs]

Oh to be a fly next to Daniel when he received the news about her pregnancy

His Best Man || DR3 {Daniel’s Reaction}

A/N: quick 700 words written on my phone 💕 F1 Masterlist || One || Two || Daniel’s Reaction

Daniel wouldn’t normally have his phone with him when he was meant to be listening to the debrief. His entire concentration should have been on the technicians reading the data from the free practice he had just completed. But since you hadn’t been feeling the best you decided to stay home instead of going to the paddock, and it had left him feeling a little unsettled. He missed your company.

Like a teenager in class, he had his phone on his lap hidden under the table and the moment it lit up he snatched it. His thumb froze over the green icon as his brain registered the name on the screen wasn’t yours.

“Excuse me, guys, I need to take this,” he interrupted as he abruptly stood up and left the room. He and James hadn’t spoken since the phone call in Portland nearly two months ago and if the biometric monitor was still attached from the practice it would have caught the sudden spike in his heart rate.

For a second Daniel thought about letting the call go to voicemail but he wasn’t a coward, so he took a deep breath and answered the call. “Hello, mate, it’s been a while,” he greeted with a confidence he didn’t feel.

Immediately James’ laugh set him on edge and he closed the door to his driver room since there were still a lot of people loitering around. “Tends to happen when you fuck someone’s wife.”

“Ex-wife, which tends to happen when you’re a cheating piece of shit,” Daniel shot back.

“Hmm, I don’t remember signing any court documents.”

Daniel was usually patient by nature but his patience for this man had run out on the side of a highway in Perth. “Why did you call me, James?”

“I just thought we could celebrate the wonderful news together, since my wife is pregnant. I’m assuming you’re the father but considering she’s a whore, who knows?”

“Shut your fucking mouth, James,” Daniel growled as his hands threatened to crush the phone with the grip he had. “You don’t talk about her like that, ever, you understand!”

“That she’s a whore or that she’s pregnant? Because both are true.”

“You’re a fucking liar, and she can’t have kids, she already told me.”

James’ laugh sent Daniel’s stomach dropping and a cold fissure running down his spine. “Who's the liar now…”

The phone went dead before he could respond and he stared at his phone as it returned to his home screen. The image was one of his favourites, though every photo of you was technically a favourite, this one was perfect. You weren’t even paying attention to the camera as he snapped the shot, all of your focus was on the tiny joey cradled in your arms as you bottle fed it.

He already knew about your fertility struggles, it was no secret, but it was clear you would have been a great mother had you been given the chance. It was why he was struggling so much to digest James’ words. You wouldn’t have lied about that, he couldn’t believe it.

Needing the reassurance only you could provide, he tied the arms of his race suit around his waist and started to run. It wasn’t far to his apartment block from the paddock but it felt longer as he sprinted full pelt through the busy streets.

Daniel hadn’t even thought to bring his keys and after a few attempts at knocking loudly he went back to the front desk to borrow a spare one. The knots in his stomach had twisted into a noose by the time he unlocked the door and walked into the silent apartment.

Sweat beaded on his forehead and ran down his spine as he heard a soft sob come from the bathroom. The sound penetrated his heart and spurred him to close the distance in a mad dash to fix whatever had caused you pain but he never expected to find you the way he did. Pregnancy tests littered the floor, three bold plus signs staring him in the face as he stumbled back against the wall and let it take his weight and he slid down to the floor.

“You said you couldn’t have kids.”

[mauricemylittlemeowmeow]

ohhh additionally, i havent played it yet bc im still going thru patho hyperfixation but felvidek too!!! i wanna play felvidek after i finally emerge from patho hyperfixation hell

im going thru the pentiment tag and why the fuck are patho-funger-penti-disco fans just a single circle of a venn diagram

[haesunflower]

zb1 to you being cute when they’re mad at you .....₊˚⊹♡

genre: fluff/comedy

pairing: reader (mostly gn) x zerobaseone

about/tags:

slight suggestive for jiwoong :D i can't help it sorry, yujin written in the context of friendship only

⠀⠀♡ kim jiwoong ♡ ⠀⠀

when he's mad he's not really vocal, rather he just sighs really loudly and walks with heavy footsteps

he's alone in the living room couch minding his business, really not in the mood to deal the problem rn

but you plop yourself on his lap, facing him as your hands snakes itself to rest on his chest, then to his neck

Is not making eye contact with you, he knows he’ll break. he’s supposed to be mad over the scratch on his car (!!)

true enough, he breaks after you lean down and whisper “sorry babe, you know i didn’t mean to. let me make it up to you, hmmm?”

and then you’re kissing his neck and jaw

long story short, he’s no longer mad

the lesson here is that seducing him works 😭

⠀⠀ ♡ zhang hao ♡ ⠀⠀

he’s giving you the (virtual) silent treatment after you said you weren’t able to watch the first zb1 live

you texted him saying you missed it because you couldn't get out of work, but he's not responding

you call him and he picks it up to let you explain, but doesn't say a word (yeah he's THAT petty he can give you the silent treatment in phone call format)

you've said sorry so so so many times and he eventually texts that he just needs time and space before talking to you again

and you're like "okay love, i'll just be waiting at home"

when he gets home he sees you cooked him dinner and prepped his favorite movie on the TV screen and gets so soft

he feels kinda bad that you felt the need to overcompensate for something you couldn't control (your terrible boss)

wraps his arms around you the moment you get home and you're so relieved

the stress from the day leaves his shoulders as he nuzzles his face into your hair and basks in your scent

⠀⠀ ♡ sung hanbin ♡ ⠀⠀

you guys got into an argument while you were on date, which is so rare

you decide to leave the cafe and just drive for a change in scenery

he's so serious, brows furrowed and hands gripping the wheel, he's also mumbling something to himself but you can't quite make out what he's saying

fed up, you go over to him and plant a quick kiss on his cheek

surprised by this, he 😳 and turns really red

he has to pull over because he can't focus anymore

"you can't just do that when i'm driving!" nags at you cutely, dimples showing and all

"you're not mad at me anymore, hanbin?"

"mad at you? i thought you were mad at me?"

you're both giggling because of the misunderstanding

in the end, you enjoy the sunset together by the hood of his car

⠀⠀ ♡ seok matthew ♡ ⠀⠀

for lack of better term, matthew is so "good" at staying mad at you

like internally, he's not mad anymore

externally, he will still keep up with the mad act

it's because he loves how you get so much cuter and lovelier around him in an attempt to gain his forgiveness

he sighs loudly, drags his footsteps, and leaves the room everytime you enter – he's making it known that he's still annoyed with you

but you kept following him around the house, trying to get him to talk to you "matt please can you just talk to me?"

he needed a dish washed? you got it. he needed his phone charger? you fetched it from the other room.

you’re literally clinging on to his arm now repeating things like “babe I’m so sorry” and “I’ll do anything you wantttt”

you’re swinging his arm back and forth, on the verge of tears when matthew decides to quit the act

he laughs and presses a kiss to your lips “you’re so cute sweetie”

⠀⠀ ♡ kim taerae ♡ ⠀⠀

the biggest difference is his demeanor towards you

usually a simp, but there's no more sweetness in his voice when he talks to you – even calls you by your government name when he needs to speak to you "y/n it's cold, turn the heat up"

is so deadpan with you it's...almost scary

you do everything he asks with no complaints whatsoever because it is YOUR fault

it's evening now, and the rain is getting louder, you're curled up with the duvet wrapped around you

when he reaches the bed, you ask "i know you're still mad but can i still sleep with you here tonight, i'm scared of the thunder" with the biggest doe eyes ever 🥺

and he's like?? why are you asking if you can sleep in your own bed?? it's yours??

even if he's "mad" he still wants to sleep next to you no matter what

feels kinda bad that you felt the need to ask him that question

"i'm not mad anymore angel" and envelopes you in a hug

⠀⠀♡ ricky ♡ ⠀⠀

this boy CAN and WILL be able to stay mad at you if he wants to

when Ricky starts acting cold, you genuinely do not know the reason why

since he wasn’t speaking to you :( talking to him was of no use :(

so you made a cute little “I’m sorry” card and you even decorated it with pink glitter and strawberry stickers

you slipped it under the bedroom door, where Ricky was icing you out

Ricky thinks it’s the cutest thing ever

he comes out of the room to find you in the kitchen, cleaning up all the mess you made to make his card

he doesn’t say anything, instead, helps you pack up (especially the pesky pink glitter)

when he’s done he tells you he liked it and that you’re forgiven

you jump at him and he catches you by your legs, hoisting you up as you’re kissing him mwah

⠀⠀♡ kim gyuvin ♡ ⠀⠀

I don’t even think he wants to be mad at you right now

he got over it in two seconds but likes to play fight with you...for fun

so when you attempt to cuddle up to him on the couch asking for forgiveness for forgetting to walk eumppappa he shields himself with the couch pillow

he places the barrier between you two and karate chops the air so you don't touch him (what a nerd...help)

so you just sit there and pout

and he looks at you pouting back

it's a pouting contest now

he gives up because you're so damn cute!!! next thing you know he's squishing your cheeks and doting on you about how cute his partner is

"i can never stay mad at this face, you're too cute baby!"

⠀⠀♡ park gunwook ♡ ⠀⠀

when you get into an argument (which you're both very good at btw) the both of you tend to have a hard time backing down

but it was a particularly long day for you and you didn't wanna argue at all so you just said "yeah yeah you're right, i'm wrong, so i'm sorry"

but gunwook isn't fully satisfied because you didn't even get to talk about the issue, just threw in the towel so quick for the sake of ending the discussion

he's about to say something

when he hears your restrained sniffles and sobs and he's thinking like 😧 why is my baby crying

a fun fact about gunwook: his weakness is your tears

"sorry wook, can we talk tomorrow please i'm too tired"

he looks at your red nose and tear filled eyes and thinks you look cute when you cry so he just cups your hands and kisses your nose fondly

"okay baby, we can talk tomorrow"

⠀⠀♡ han yujin ♡ ⠀⠀ (friendship)

zhang hao's son because like him, does not speak to you

when you show up to school with his BROKEN speaker he just takes it from your hands and walks away

literally doesn't speak to you the whole damn day

you show up to school the next day and place a milk carton and snacks on his table with a little note saying "sorry, yujin i'll be careful next time!!"

sits next to you at lunch and shares the snacks you got him

then pretends everything is normal

later that day, you found out from gunwook that the speaker was totally fixable and working again, so yujin just pretended to be mad to get some forgiveness snacks -_-

A/N: after 2 weeks...i'm back? haha

૮ ˶ᵔ ᵕ ᵔ˶ ა

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[yccoffeesimp]

𝙔𝙖𝙣𝙙𝙚𝙧𝙚 𝘽𝙡𝙖𝙙𝙚 𝙃𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙘𝙖𝙣𝙤𝙣𝙨

Gender-neutral reader!! (I forgot to post this here as well :>)

A stellaron hunter, wanted with a near 8.13  billion credits on his head. A swordsman who sacrificed his body to become a blade. His salvation from the undying pain of Mara was once death. The other plane of existence. That was until he set eyes on you. A fellow trailblazer upon the Astral Express.

He never understood what it was he felt when you were around. He felt... Calm? At ease. Alive. It all started when you followed the Trailblazer onto the Xianzhou Loufo. And ever since that moment, he wanted- No. He craved your presence. He felt so alive when he saw you. No longer suffocating from the binds of the past and its mistakes. But that all disappeared when you went away.

He felt disappointed when you left. The constant pain he harbored returned in an instant. Yet in the background of all of that was an unstoppable craving for you.

Blade tried to deny the craving. Refusing to cross your path and avoiding you all in one, which wasn't hard at first, but somehow he felt himself get dragged to you. Eventually, it was too much. He began to realize that he needed you. And at any cost, he will take you.

It was easier said than done. Kafka, Silverwolf, and Firefly all pitched in. Well, more so Kafka. She found this "love" Blade had for you to be amusing. Silverwolf didn't seem to care and Firefly was too busy carrying out the script in Penacony to do anything.

While everything was happening in Penacony, when Dan Heng left with Boothill, you were left alone with Pom-Pom. That's when you went missing from the express. All alone now with a Stellaron Hunter.

There were many times you tried to leave when no one was paying attention. All were in vain as Blade would eventually catch you. It felt like a twisted game of hide and seek. He never understood why you'd want to leave. He wasn't mistreating you at all. You were fed, clothed, and sure all your freedoms were gone now but he never saw a problem with it.

He isn't manipulative like Jing Yuan. But more aggressive. The first time he ever did anything that resulted in injury was when you tried to run for the 5th time. He was getting irritated and you just so happened to try to run when he needed your presence to calm his mind. So seeing you run when he was like that definitely made him snap. He pinned you down like you were a wild animal. His hand gripping your neck was tight enough to leave a bruise. Normally he would just pin you to the floor. His hand kept your head to the floor as his knee was dug into your back, waiting patiently for you to stop struggling. After that, he would carry you back to your room before locking you in it. Such a nice man.

However, when you began to stop running, he wasn't aggressive anymore. He would just silently bask in your presence, his head in your lap or shoulder. Bringing you food, water, or whatever you need. Of course, he was curious as to why you stopped. Blade would never ask though. All that mattered to him now was that you were his. His salvation was finally in his grasp.

Nicknames: None

___________________________________________The silence of the room was deafening to you. You sat on the edge of your bed, the navy blue-haired individual who brought you here was easily resting his head on your lap. You questioned how he could be so at ease with what he does. He slaughtered many and destroyed several things. One of those was your freedom. Though you didn't do anything about it, you felt bad after what Kafka told you about Blade. Or at first. Honestly, you don't know what you feel for him anymore. Blade's head shifted in your lap a bit, causing your hands to flinch as you realized it was in his hair. "Sorry." You uttered. Waiting for a reply, you sigh as you'll never get one. ___________________________________________

[mortiskiller]

Story: Man to Hog

Text version of my latest audio of the same name. Trigger Warning: Extreme weight gain, immobility, weight gain regret, manipulation and non-consent.

The tears and panic washed over my face. "Fuck, I cant move, fuck fuck!" You Watched me try to move unaided.When we started this journey, I did not really think this would happen, you would have stopped this. But pound after pound, milestone after milestone, I gained. Slow, then faster and faster, at one point it was 50 pounds a month. You would feed me and call me your handsome hog, lull me into being feed past any point of human fullness. I would moan the whole time watching my body swell around me and loving it. I put every negative thought buried under pounds of food and liters of ice cream, you made it so easy. Its what you wanted to see me like this. This morning you helped me up and placed the scale under my feet, as you lifted me up, I wheezed and groaned, it had been weeks since I was on my feet, feeling all my weight. After a few seconds you brought the live stock display to my bloated, puffing, sweating face, the number blurred a little as my eyes were pushed slightly closed since last month. With your other hand you grab my fat face and push the fat back so I can see. Slowly the red blurs become numbers, numbers I cant believe. 987 lbs. 

I let out a whimper, my mind racing with fear and disbelief. This couldn't be happening. I was nearly a thousand pounds. How had I let this happen? How had you let this happen?

But then, a small part of me felt a sense of terror, utter terror and realization. No, my mouth manages to eek out. 

You watched as conflicting emotions played out on my face. You could see the terror and the realization warring within me. You knew that I was yours, completely and utterly. You had molded me into this, had fed me and cared for me, and now I was your masterpiece.

You reached out and ran a hand over my fat rolls, relishing in the warmth and softness of my body. You leaned in close to my ear and whispered, "You did it, my handsome hog. You're the biggest, the best. 

You cackled with glee, your hand still gripping my cheeks as if they were made of putty. Your eyes danced with delight as you looked over your handiwork, the product of months of feeding and pampering. I could barely breathe, my chest heaving with each intake of air. The weight of my own body pressed down on me, making me feel like I was being crushed under a mountain of flesh.

But even as I struggled to come to terms with my new reality, you were already making plans for me. Plans that involved growing me even larger, pushing me to new heights of gluttony and indulgence.

"You look positively delicious," you murmured, tracing a finger down my flabby arm. "We're going to have so much fun with you."

I shuddered, both in delight and fear. Part of me reveled in the idea of being your plaything, your oversized pet to be fed and pampered at your whim. 

My knees burned, hips ached, my back was on fire, my body was no longer able to stand unaided. As my fear flooded my body, I felt your hand leave my thick upper side roll, where my beanbag tits meat my 125 inch belly.

You moved your hand to my lower belly, where you could feel the movement of my organs struggling to keep up with the sheer mass that was pressing down on them. I could feel your breath on my neck as you leaned in closer, your voice low and husky in my ear.

"You ready, my handsome hog?" you asked, turning the food balloon that was my body."Its time for your final steps." you cruelly yelled as your hand stung my couch filling ass. Ahead was a single slice of chocolate cake, my favorite. Even with 30K calories for dinner in my sagging gut, it rumbled, it needed food. Drool escaped my lips as I started oinking.  

My mind willed me to move but my body refused. Too fucking fat, too greedy, too lazy, to easy to control, too dumb to see what was coming. I shuffled one foot forward, my mind was focused on the cake, the food, i needed it. The slight movement of my foot made my body slump, and collapse. Books fall off the shelf and your jump as nearly half ton falls down, wet watery fat slapping the ground. A breathy fuck screams from my lips. My vision settles on your cute manicured toes and slim ankle. Your foot taps as you say, I am waiting hog. I cant even move my head, you see the ocean of fat pooling on the ground. I watch your feet glide over the floor and grab the cake. You place it on the ground, and push it toward me with your foot. It gets closer and closer, and it seconds the plate is smashed into my face. My new life as man was over, I was a hog now. 

[neopuff]

title: kisses word count: ~630 ships/characters: vex/percy, vax summary: Vex was so happy to hear his voice again. ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/60019693

x

Vex stared at his face - sunken cheeks, chapped lips, dark circles around his eyes - and she'd never seen a more beautiful, perfect sight in her entire life.

She took several deep breaths as the sound of his voice, a voice she never thought she'd ever hear again, filled her ears. She was so, so relieved. Her heart was still beating so fast, it felt like her chest was going to burst.

"...Vex," he whispered, his voice scratchy and hoarse.

Unable to stop herself, she grabbed his face and pulled him towards her, pressing their lips together. She needed to feel him and she didn't care who was watching.

Percy kissed back immediately, though his shaky hands struggled to grab onto her.

Vex pulled away for a brief moment, allowing Percy to speak again. "Vex, I-"

No. Hearing his voice just reminded her of the mistakes she'd made. She kissed him again, peppering small kisses on his lips and all around as she mumbled against his skin, "I love you, I love you, I love you."

His grip on her arm strengthened and he kissed her back feverishly, almost as if he'd just escaped from an endless, hellish nightmare. "I-I love you, too, but-"

She ignored him, kissing him still. Vex needed to feel him and touch him and hold him. She needed to make sure he understood exactly how much she loved him. She should've told him before and she'd never let him go without hearing it again. "I love you so much," she mumbled, barely aware of the tears that continued trailing down her cheeks.

"Please, Vex'ahlia-" Percy lightly shoved her shoulder, his hand barely able to keep a grip on her top. "I...this is very, um." His cheeks were bright red, positively burning, and he stared down at the floor.

Vex blinked twice, gently swiping her thumbs across his face. She quickly glanced around the room to find that most of their team had looked away from them (Scanlan and Grog excluded, of course), but the publicity of her displays of affection were leaving Percival deeply embarrassed.

She smirked at him, no longer feeling like she needed to cry. She felt almost normal for the first time in a long time. "I need to get some color back in your cheeks, darling. Makes you look more alive."

Percy huffed and looked back up at her, smiling. His eyes sparkled and he leaned forward to kiss her - just briefly, nothing like she'd been doing to him - and he pulled back to take a deep breath.

"Are you two done? I don't think I can take anymore of this," Vax called out from the other side of the room. Cassandra made a noise of agreement, though the look on her face showed that she was happier than she'd ever been.

"For now," Vex responded, helping Percy sit up straight. She kept one hand on his back and the other on his chest, feeling his heartbeat. "We should get you bathed and fed, darling."

"That sounds spectacular," Percy responded, leaning against her as what was left of his strength gave out.

Vex took another deep breath and allowed the rest of the team to take their turns hugging and kissing their newly revived friend. Some of them joked about how bad he smelled and she was surprised that she didn't notice anything wrong with him at all. All she could think about was how much she loved him and how happy she was to see him alive and breathing again. She had to stop herself from reaching out and grabbing him - he needed time to breathe and to be with his other friends and family again.

But Gods did she want to hold him and never let go.

[nexility-sims]

𝐍𝐎. 𝟖 (𝟑/𝟑)   ❛ 𝐡𝐨𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐟𝐚𝐬𝐭 ❜   |   EARLY OCTOBER 1991

❧  𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲  /  𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠  /  𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬  /  𝐧𝐞𝐱𝐭.

→ 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐍 That performance had been different. It wasn’t a caress either; it had felt like being strangled by familiar, then insistent hands. Fluke’s music always roused emotion, but she had returned from the backroom to the dance floor entirely unprepared for how it would hit her this time. The audience swayed as Ursula crooned the opening lines into her microphone. Increasingly distracted, Leonor watched with anxious eyes when the movement of bodies picked up speed. The crowd soon roiled. Limbs flailed. Ursula’s windmilling guitar strums, drumsticks rising and falling in Adara’s grasp, the beer bottles and cigarettes and open palms held aloft all around—

❧ okay ... it's done ... i feel like i just ran a marathon, creatively sdfkhsf :^) and, as always, you're really not getting the full story if you're not reading below the cut (^:

𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐜𝐞𝐧𝐞 & 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐩𝐭 ↓

“Was that when he did the song?” Kore asked, interrupting her thoughts. 

Leonor licked her lips, then shook her head. “No. Later. Heartbreaker.” 

That performance had been different. It wasn’t a caress either; it had felt like being strangled by familiar, then insistent hands. Fluke’s music always roused emotion, but she had returned from the backroom to the dance floor entirely unprepared for how it would hit her this time. The audience swayed as Ursula crooned the opening lines into her microphone. Increasingly distracted, Leonor watched with anxious eyes when the movement of bodies picked up speed. The crowd soon roiled. Limbs flailed. Ursula’s windmilling guitar strums, drumsticks rising and falling in Adara’s grasp, the beer bottles and cigarettes and open palms held aloft all around— 

At some point, it was no longer a floor filled with costumed guests enjoying live music. They transmuted, perhaps between her furious blinking, into a nest of monsters. Leonor found the sheer scale and radiance of their collectivity grotesque, so much so that she stood frozen by fright in the center of this undulating mass they formed. She would have remained that way forever—waiting, as it were, to be drenched and digested while mostly unaware of her own shrieking—if they hadn’t spit Renzo out and into her face. Through his sunglasses, she could see concern in his also-green eyes. Taken by that, comforted, she was entirely unprepared to be spun around and pushed further into the tangle of creatures. She yelped, shocked, helpless like any prey, each time a body bumped into her. Still, Renzo’s hands gripped her arms, and she sank back into him as he propelled her forward. Her feet didn’t need to move. If she was going to be eaten, she would have to be fed to it, them, this animated inspissation. 

Instead, she survived and returned to the backroom once again. Red light soaked everything like blood. This is being dead? she’d wondered. I thought it’d be blue. The door shut with a hypnotist’s finger snap. Head to toe, doglike, Leonor shook herself while Renzo watched. She sank down onto the sectional, sighing so hard that she momentarily lost her breath. Or, her chest fell still and tense, and he exclaimed, ‘Hey, breathe—!’ That was a command, and it brought something out of her, very much doglike still. She felt kicked. 

She climbed onto his lap unbidden once he joined her. The room swam in the periphery, red light filling up to the ceiling and spilling over in a continuous loop. His face was all she saw. It shifted and morphed as they talked. Yet, it wasn’t talking in her recollection. Their voices were shouts, muffled and overlaid, stitched together by frustration. She felt it now with Kore’s face supplanting his. Renzo’s face—she had never seen it that way. Only, he wasn’t angry. She was the one who was maddened, had gone feral, turned from prey on the verge of devourment to an animal out of its mind. All she truly remembered was what she relayed to Kore. ‘I’m not your baby.’ He took it in. ‘I’m not your baby. I’m an adult. I know what I want. I’m not your baby. You’re not my—You don’t have to tell me anything. I know, okay, I know a lot. Everything. I’m not your baby.’ 

It devolved. She was her mother’s daughter. Desperate and feeble, she shoved him. Her hands were unkind. They aided a tantrum, and he allowed it. Her words—what were they? Did they matter? It was how she said them. Unrestrainable, she had finally stumbled to the door, shouting still, and he drowned her out in response. The frustration seethed. ‘Go ahead, get the fuck out of here!’ This was not Uspanian, but she understood. ‘I’m leaving! I’m over it!’ Yet, meaning was lost on her even as she had uttered this word, “it.” Get out! Have fun!’ he called, this time in her language. She struggled to slam the door. It was very important that it slammed. The knob fell from her hands; the mischievous hinges resisted her. Renzo talked to himself. ‘What the fuck ... Jesus.��� Who was that? Slam. Slam. Slam—there, at last, for good measure.

“I’m sure it’s fine,” Kore said, interrupting. As Leonor reached to lift the hands holding her in place, she added, “You can talk about it later—tomorrow, whenever. Better that way, actually. How about I take you home?” 

Leonor considered the proposition. Then, she countered, “If I can’t talk to Renzo, then I just need to go back onto the roof for a minute. Okay? Just a minute. I just need to—” 

“No, no, no,” Kore replied quickly, pushing Leonor toward the door that would lead them back into the bar’s main space. She struggled against her. Then, perhaps realizing she wouldn’t win that way, Leonor sank down abruptly to the ground. Kore let out a laugh of exasperation. “Really?” 

While Kore stood there with her hands on her hips, Leonor scrambled between her legs and leapt to her feet. Kore followed as she rushed toward the stairwell. Thinking it better to shadow than try stopping her again, Kore trailed after as Leonor climbed the stairs with cautious steps. The stairwell was small but dark, and the city’s bright nighttime lights illuminated the passage easily as soon as Leonor threw open the door. There were other people on the roof when they emerged, and Kore waved to them, but Leonor gave no notice. Her face turned upward to the moon; with closed eyes, she stood and let her arms, palms open, extend. 

“Moon goddess,” Kore remarked quietly as the party carried on around them.

Leonor said nothing, but she stood, swaying lightly, for some time. Kore imagined that she must be thinking of her mother—perhaps thanking her for showing up to the party.

Below the roof’s edge, visible across the street, birds resumed screeching.

TRANSCRIPT:

KORE | Was that when he did the song?

LEONOR | No. Later. Heartbreaker.

[Music, party noise]

[New song begins, crowd cheering]

[Ursula singing]

[Leonor gasps]

[Commotion, Leonor exclaiming, music continues]

RENZO | Too much—[Leonor yelps] [Sighs] What did I say? Come here …

[Music fades, Leonor whimpering]

RENZO | You’ll be okay. [Shushes] Overstimulated, that’s all. Some quiet—

RENZO | Hey, breathe—!

LEONOR | I’m not your baby. I’m not your baby. I’m an adult. I know what I want. I’m not your baby. You’re not my—You don’t have to tell me anything. I know, okay, I know a lot. Everything. I’m not your baby.

[Shouting]

Go ahead, get the fuck out of here! I’m leaving! I’m over it! Get out! Have fun!

What the fuck … Jesus.

[Door slams]

[Leonor mumbling] KORE | I'm sure it's fine. You can talk about it later—tomorrow, whenever. Better that way, actually. How about I take you home?

LEONOR | If I can't talk to Renzo, then I just need to go back onto the roof for a minute. Okay? Just a minute. I just need to— KORE | No, no, no.

[Carlo and Sybil laughing] KORE | [laughs] Really?

[Music, laughter, conversations] KORE | Moon goddess …

[Paparazzi chattering, cameras flashing]