"Hate me, hurt me, betray me. The more pain you make me feel, the more tempting you become."
Taehyung Dark Royal a.u.
MATURE & explicit sexual content 18+
Cover by me: @CallMeByYourName97
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"I know there's a blade where your heart is And you know how to use it And you can take my flesh if you want girl But baby don't abuse it"
Consume-Chase Atlantic
💠 Taehyung
I sit at my desk, unable to do a fucking thing about the numbers before me. Tapping the ink of my pen until it makes splotches over a new number.
40. 40 barrels of divine blood left. It is time for me to feed once again on sweet Leila, and it turns my stomach with disgust. I cannot.
Yet, against all odds,
Spring is here.
I've always been afraid of the warmth. Afraid one day the sun would shine upon the land in my father's absence. Every turn of a season away from Winter, a new unknown formed. A new problem to solve. Less blood harvested from the daughter of the moon.
But the breeze changed, and I did not mourn the cold. The nights that froze and moonlight that rarely touched all corners of the ocean, the cliffs, the castle, or reached within its walls.
I thought of her. Leila. Ignis.
She became spring. A chance at new beginnings, the flowers that burst beneath thawed ground.
Leila.
I write her name on paper. I spend time on every single letter. Looping, and with no harsh lines. As curved with perfection as her.
Leila.
I think of her name. I say it over and over again in my mind, imagining my tongue wrapping around the letters when I miss saying it out loud.
I avoided her name before. Even in my mind.
I say Ignis when my heart stutters. Unable to bear even the sound of it leaving my lips, and how weak it makes me.
Leila.
Her name means born of the night, but there was nothing dark about her. Not in the light of her silver eyes. Not in the smiles that had become less stiff, and bloomed now freely on her face.
Leila.
Leila, Leila.
Gods. I want her so badly. I need. I need her. Even now as I lay awake and she sleeps soundly in her room. Knowing my name is probably dancing across her lips even in rest.
She is perfection. She is my destruction. She is not the poison, and but the cure. She is all I want. And everything I could ever hope for.
How her rasping voice is like the swiftness of the winds against the cliffs, her touches as necessary as the undulating of the ocean waves. Just a forceful, as powerful. Her even softer lips, often marred with words like armor.
