#If every person a vampire bites becomes a vampire

[kairoot]

TEETH ⌇ SJY

SINK MY TEETH IN YA— jake has been hiding a huge secret from you—he’s a vampire. after going six months without feeding, his control is slipping, especially when he's around you, sensing your blood. when you notice his strange behavior and confront him, he brushes it off. but soon, he can’t hide it anymore and reveals the truth, expecting you to be scared. instead, he’s shocked when you offer to let him feed from you.

𝓅𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗶𝗻𝗴 vamp!jake x 𝑓．𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗴𝗲𝗻𝗿𝗲 esatablished relationship , thriller (?) , suggestive 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 biting.. (jake is a vamp hello…), kissing, physical touch, etc. — ℳ𝘪𝘭𝘢𝘯’𝘴 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘦𝘴：layout insp by sav bb 🤍. please reblog and/or leave feedback. it is greatly appreciated !— 𝐌𝐒𝐅.

“you ready, babe?” jake asked, walking in the bedroom while still running a comb through his gelled hair.

you adjusted the necklace in the mirror, moving it around to your liking.

“almost.”

jake chuckled to himself, knowing it always took you a while to get yourself dolled up and you’d stand in the mirror until you actually liked what you were wearing.

“you look fine, baby.” he appeared behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist, holding you close to him.

you sighed, not believing him but prepared to leave anyway. you both decided to attend the town’s halloween party tonight (you begged jake to go), seeing as you don’t really go out as much as you used to. when you and jake started dating, you both attended nearly every gathering there was. but jake had suddenly become uninterested in going out.

you wondered why, seeing as he always seemed like a people person to you but after some thought, you figured he just wanted to stay in and enjoy each other in private. you didn’t mind it, but a part of you missed the lively atmosphere.

jake still clung to you, placing his face in the crook of your neck.

“what perfume are you wearing tonight? smells so good..” he mumbled, almost slurring, taking in whatever scent it was. the smell was so intoxicating, he almost felt faint.

“i didn’t put any on yet,” you giggled, not noticing his grip on you tighten and the slight tension in his body.

now jake was confused. if you didn’t have any perfume on, why was your scent so strong? it seemed irresistible.

but once he thought about it, the answer popped in his head. before he could pull away, a searing pain shot through the front of his mouth, causing his hand to fly up to hold it.

you turned around when you heard him let out a painful groan, placing a hand on his jaw, giving him a concerned look.

“is everything okay?” you questioned, waiting for him to answer as his face contorted in discomfort.

jake had realized that it’s been nearly 6 months since he had a taste of the red liquid that kept him alive. he had been feasting as if he were human and could live off of normal meals. but he should have known that wasn’t the case. he thought he could handle it— pretend to be human. but now his control was slipping.

jake swallowed hard, stepping back from your touch. “i’m fine.” he muttered, but his voice lacked conviction, and he couldn’t meet your eyes. he took another step back from you, sitting on the edge of your bed.

you could sense that something was wrong, a strange tension in the air. “jake.. what’s going on?”

he exhaled shakily, his facade crumbling. he didn’t want to tell you, but he knew he couldn’t keep this hidden much longer. not with the way your scent was overwhelming him, making his throat burn with need.

his hands rested beside him as he gripped the bedding, trying to calm himself down. he avoided any eye contact with you, scared that he’d immediately lose all self-control.

“baby, we don’t have go this party if you’re not feeling well—“

jake shook his head, forcing a smile that didn’t really reach his eyes, “no, i’m fine. i promised you we’d go.”

you hesitated, not at all convinced by his words. his body had relaxed a bit more but you could tell he was holding back on something, “are you sure, jake?”

jake sighed, running a hand through his hair. “i’ll be okay, babe, honestly. i just need a distraction.” he finally looked at you, a flicker of guilt in his eyes. “you’ve been looking forward to this. don’t let me ruin it for you.”

you smiled softly, walking toward him to hold brush your hand against his cheek. “alright.. but i’m driving,” you said, grabbing the car keys from the dresser. “i’m not letting you behind the wheel when you look like you’re about to faint.”

jake chuckled slightly, but there was no argument. he followed you out of the bedroom, the tension between you both still lingering. you hoped the party would actually distract him, seeing as you had a feeling that there was something he wasn’t telling you.

as you made your way to the car, you glanced at him, seeing the way his jaw clenched. he seemed so distant and you couldn’t help but worry about what the night would bring.

you both arrived at the party’s venue— a large but old mansion decked out with eerie decorations. pumpkins were scattered across the yard while cobwebs covered the corners of the porch. the sound of laughter and music was heard from the open doors of the house.

you turned the car off, sitting there for a moment before getting out. you wanted to ask jake what was really on his mind or what was bothering him.

“baby,” you called for him but no answer. he was distracted and looking at whatever was going on outside the passenger window.

“jaeyun.” your hand touched his arm this time, catching his attention. he hummed in response, turning his head to face forward now.

you shuffled closer to him, your chest pressed against the side of him.

“you know you can talk to me right?”

instead of answering, he sighed, lowering his head. if you kept asking about what was bothering him, he’d have no choice but to tell you. he hated keeping things from you especially because he knew you only wanted him to feel better and you wanted the best for him.

you leaned in to press soft kisses along his jaw, making him exhale softly. your hand made its way to his chin, turning his head so he was facing you.

you pecked his lips a couple of times before pulling away slightly to look him the eyes. they seemed darker tonight, the usual spark in them looked like it had disappeared.

"jaeyun, i mean it," you whispered against his skin. "if you're not feeling up to this, we don't have to go in. we can just head home, or even sit here for a while. i just want you to be okay."

jake closed his eyes briefly, his hand slipping down to rest on your thigh. his grip was firmer than usual, as if grounding himself with your touch. he wanted to tell you, wanted to explain the storm that was building inside him-but the words wouldn't come. not yet.

"i'm fine, really," he finally said, though even you could hear the strain in his voice.

"alright," you said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind his ear.

"but if at any point you're feeling worse, we'll leave, okay?"

jake nodded, though you noticed the way his fingers twitched against your leg.

with that, you both stepped out of the car. the cool night air hit you immediately, the atmosphere of the party drawing you in as you made your way toward the mansion. you could hear the music more clearly now, and the sounds of people laughing and talking grew louder with every step. the porch creaked slightly underfoot as you climbed the stairs, and the glow of jack-o'-lanterns flickered in the dim light, casting long shadows across the yard.

jake walked beside you, quieter than usual. you glanced at him, still feeling that nagging worry tugging at your chest, but you didn't press him any further. not yet.

“hey, you made it!” one of your friends called out from the entrance, waving excitedly as you and jake made your way inside. you returned the wave, feeling a little lighter now that you were here.

the inside of the mansion was just as lively. the grand ballroom was filled with people dancing, their costumes a blur of color under the dim, spooky lighting. fake bats and skeletons hung from the chandeliers, and fog machines pumped mist across the floor, creating an eerie, dreamlike atmosphere.

you turned to jake, who was scanning the room, his eyes darting from person to person. you noticed the way his jaw clenched again, the same tension from earlier creeping back into his posture.

“you okay?” you asked, touching his arm.

“yeah, just… a lot of people,” he muttered, his voice tight.

you frowned, your concern growing. he usually loved being around crowds, but tonight, he seemed different—on edge.

“why don’t we grab a drink?” you suggested, hoping to distract him. “maybe that’ll help.”

jake hesitated, his eyes still fixed on the crowd, but eventually nodded. “yeah. sure.”

you led the way to the drink table, but as you walked through the sea of partygoers, you noticed the way he kept glancing around, making you think he was looking for something—or someone.

you both made your way through the crowd after getting drinks, but something about jake’s energy felt off. he was quieter than usual, not fully engaging with anyone who greeted him, his hand gripping yours just a little too tightly. every so often, you caught him looking around, almost like he was on edge, but when you asked him if everything was okay, he brushed it off with a forced smile.

“i’m fine, i’m okay” he would say, but you weren’t convinced.

the party went on for a while, but jake grew more distant with every passing minute. eventually, you both decided to leave early, the fun of the night overshadowed by jake’s strange behavior. he seemed relieved as you left the venue, though the tension between you still lingered.

when you arrived home, the atmosphere had shifted again. jake seemed distracted, his body tense as if he was trying to hold something back. you went into the kitchen to grab a snack, thinking over the night’s events.

as you were cutting up your fruit for a late snack, a sharp pain ran across your finger as you sliced it while using the kitchen knife. you hissed, dropping the knife as you instinctively pressed your other hand to the cut.

“damnit,” you muttered, holding your hand under the sink to clean it. as you did, you noticed jake’s sudden stillness. he hadn’t moved from his spot in the doorway, his eyes locked on your hand.

his gaze was fixated on the small trail of blood now dripping from your hand, his breathing heavier than before.

“it’s just a cut,” you said softly, noticing the strange look in his eyes. but as you stepped toward him, his expression darkened, a hunger creeping into his features that made your heart skip a beat.

“you should… get that cleaned up,” he muttered, his voice low and strained. “i’ll get the bandages.” he said, but his eyes never left your finger.

but before you could move, jake was suddenly closer to you, his body tense and his breathing ragged as if he was fighting against something. you could feel the heat of his presence, the way his eyes darkened as he watched the blood still pooling at your fingertip.

“jake, what’s really going on?” you asked, your voice soft but filled with concern. “you’ve been acting strange all night..”

he hesitated, his jaw clenched, but you could see the struggle in his eyes.

he wanted to pull away, but he leaned in instead, his nose brushing against your skin as he inhaled deeply, his eyes fluttering shut. “your blood.. the smell is driving me insane.”

your breath caught in your throat. “..what does that mean?”

he swallowed hard, his eyes dark and filled with a hunger you’d never seen before. “i haven’t fed in months, y/n,” he confessed, his voice raw. “i tried to stay away from it, i swear.“

you stared at him, the weight of his confession settling over you like a heavy fog. “you… you’re a—?” the words felt foreign on your tongue, but jake’s pained expression told you everything you needed to know.

he nodded slowly, stepping back as if ashamed. “i didn’t want you to find out like this. i’m so sorry.”

you were quiet for a moment, processing everything. then, despite the fear and the shock coursing through you, you made a decision. “then take it.”

jake’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “w-what?”

“my blood,” you said, your voice steady even though your heart was racing. “if you need it, then take it. i trust you.”

jake shook his head. “baby, you know i can’t do that. i don’t wanna hurt you..”

“you won’t,” you whispered, moving back until you were pressed against the door, his body hovering over yours. “i know you won’t. i trust you, jake.”

his eyes searched yours, desperate and conflicted, but the hunger was too strong to resist. with a shuddering breath, he leaned in, his hands holding the sides of your neck as his lips brushed against the skin.. “tell me to stop,” he whispered, his voice trembling.

you shook your head, breath shuttering as you tilted your head back. his arms encircled your waist, pulling you closer.

“bite me,” you whispered once more, your hands gripping his shoulders as you waited to feel that small pinch.

jake’s fangs elongated as he wasted no time sinking his teeth in you. you gasped softly, the feeling being a mix a pain and ecstasy.

a deep groan of relief escapes his lips, the satisfaction of finally feeding without blood overwhelming him. his grip tightened on your hips as he pulled you closer, nearly losing control (again).

jake pulled away before he could drink any more, his lips tinted red before his tongue darted out to clean it up. he pecked the bite mark, hoping it would soon feel better.

you clung to him, almost hypnotized by the feeling of his teeth against your skin. he looked in your eyes, chuckling at the dazed look you gave him.

“you okay, princess?” he asks as his hand brushed away the strands of your hair.

you nodded, way too distracted to even give him a verbal response.

“c-can you do that again?”

🖇️. @wonsdoll @mimismenu @yourssincerely-mimi @riribelle @nerdimoo @sngleehee @elysianiki — only accepting 40 people.

🝮. @k-films

[lovelettersfromluna]

Compass

Summary: I’ve got something to confess, I keep you in my pocket to use. You’re my only compass, I might get lost with you.

an: let’s ignore the fact that I’ve been gone for a long time, yeah? Hehe. this most definitely is not the fic that I’ve been working on literally the entire time I’ve been gone (that’s coming don’t worry), but I got this idea at 2 in the morning and I had to jump on it IMMEDIATELY. Hope you all like it mwah mwah love you.

Warnings: SMUT!! Minors please for the love of everything that is good, do not interact, modern day vampire!Ellie, semi graphic descriptions of blood and wounds, shy!reader, Ellie bites you a lot, Ellie feeds on you and honestly it’s borderline soft core porn, fingering Ellie!receiving, grinding, mentions of bruises, Ellie is extremely fucking strong, Ellie watches you in your sleep/can get into your apartment without a key, let me know if I’ve missed anything!!

You aren’t really sure how you and Ellie became friends.

Well, you are, maybe a better question would be why you two became friends. You were both so different, you were convinced the first time you met that she hated you. The night filled with quick glances as she damn near avoided speaking to you like you were the fucking plague. It took you a bit to not take it too personally, reminding yourself that you weren’t for everyone, and that was okay! So what if the mutual friend didn’t like you…it wasn’t the end of the world.

So, it came to a surprise to you when a few nights after meeting Ellie passed, you had not one, not two, but three of your friends texting you and asking you if it was okay if they gave her your number…

Because she’d asked for it.

And suddenly you’re texting each other every day, and well into the wee hours of the night. You know, like one of those friendships. The ones that makes you smile every time you see their name pop up on your phone, or the ones where you send each other stupid videos on TikTok all day just to talk about them on a different messaging platform, because of course you’re interacting with each other every where that you have a presence.

Ellie becomes your best friend before you even realize it, and it makes you realize that maybe she didn’t dislike you as much as you thought before.

It always did confuse you a bit in the beginning how you two got along so well. You were both so different from one another. Ellie was a party animal, you were a home body. Ellie was up late at night, you were up early in the morning. If Ellie was the moon, then you were the sun. Polar opposites coming together to find a home in one another, the most unusual pairing stuck by the hip from that point on.

You of course, kept all each other’s secrets. You’d learned very early on that no one really knew much about Ellie, which you simply chalked up to her being a private person. However, she seemed eager to tell you any and everything about her. Like her dad, she’d talk about him all the time, you figured on early on that she really loved him. Or whenever she had a a new fling going, you’d be the first to know of course. She’d even told you about the time she threw away her dad’s playboy magazine after stealing it from him, which she swore she’d never told a soul.

She wanted to know all about you too! Your favorite color, favorite animal, childhood crush, family relationships. Truthfully? If you weren’t so oblivious, you would’ve seen a long time ago that Ellie was the slightest bit obsessed with you.

But you loved her, and you trusted her with your life, so you told her everything! Because you didn’t keep things from each other.

So, on a night out with everyone else, Ellie disappears, and of course you try to look for her, asking around only to be told that everyone saw her leave. Going outside to make sure she’s okay is the only logical thing to do, right? You have to make sure she’s okay.

What you don’t expect though, is when you look down a dark alleyway a few buildings down from the club you’re at, and spot the tall figure of your friend tucked into the brick wall of the dark corner, shielding way whatever it is that’s behind her. You call out for her, and when she turns around you gasp.

Because her eyes were red, and not red like you haven’t gotten any sleep, or you’ve been crying, the green of her eyes are now red, bloodshot red, and she’s holding a lifeless body in her tattooed arms…and there’s blood covering her pink lips, dripping down her chin.

Yeah, Ellie was a vampire.

You let out a gentle yawn as your hand went down to grab the remote control to your tv, your other hand coming up to rub your eyes a bit, a sorry attempt at trying to wake yourself up enough to get from the couch to go to your bed.

You pouted softly, lazily bringing your phone up to check the time before you sighed, finally finding the strength in you to push yourself up off the couch to leave your living room.

Work had been absolutely plowing you into the ground, your publicist constantly hounding you to keep working on the most recent installment of your book series. It was just so fucking hard, everytime you sat down in front of your computer, it was like writing your own book was the last thing you wanted to do.

It was draining you, and it felt like every time you finished a set of chapters, your brain was complete mush.

The upside though, was that it tired you out enough to completely knock out once you were in bed.

A gentle sigh left your lips once your head hit your soft pillow, plush blankets wrapping around your body, sliding down your bare legs and making you feel absolutely blissful. You couldn’t even stop yourself from the soft smile on your lips as your eyes grey heavy, the low lighting in your room making you feel all the more cozy, all the more warm.

You were out in seconds, soft snores leaving your sleeping body as you entered a world of dreams, escaping reality for a few measly hours before you were bombarded with the real world around you in the morning.

Ellie was on the other side of town, or at least, leaving the other side of town. It was late, and while she did love to be a creature of the night, there was something that sounded much more inviting than a glass of whiskey and a cigarette.

You, of course.

You were Ellie’s kryptonite, the single thing in this entire fucked up world that convinced her there was something worth living for, in her case, existing for. You were so fucking good, so sweet, so forgiving of literally everything. There were too many times that Ellie recalled where she wasn’t even sure you were real, perhaps another mythical creature much like herself, sent to this world to lure others into a trap that was just as filthy and terrible as the rest of the world.

But you weren’t…there were never any cons or secrets that you held, and if you did hold any secrets, you were more than willing to let Ellie in on them. No…no you were different.

God were you different.

Ellie recalls the night she first laid eyes on you like it was yesterday, her cold, dead heart jolting back to life for only a second when she saw you, at least that’s what it felt like. Your smile radiant in the dim, multicolored lights of the club, cheeks shining, eyes twinkling, like an angel sent from above. Ellie almost felt like a being as evil, and sour as she wasn’t worthy of being in the same room as you.

And god…your fucking smell.

Ellie could go on about it for hours. Sure, you were remarkable without it, but it was just the icing on the cake, the twisting of the knife in her chest.

She has mastered the art of walking into a room filled with warm bodies pumped full of blood and while ago, her throat burning with the urge to sink her teeth into her next poor victim. It was easy, annoying, but easy, and she couldn’t really remember the last time she struggled being around anyone, especially friends, or even friends of a friend.

But the second she saw you, your sweet, dulcet smell wafting against her nose, she was transported back in time. Back to a time where she was but a young vampire, clueless of the world around her, of her new life, adapting to something she didn’t even know existed before all of this, without a single guide or a fucking pamphlet for gods sakes.

It made her eyes widen, and she stopped breathing instantly to try and dull the scent of you sneaking into her nostrils and down into her eager throat. She noticed the way you pouted and sighed whenever she’d ignore you, or give her nothing but a brief response whenever you tried to get to know her. She could tell this wasn’t your thing, the night life, partying, you were here because someone asked it of you, and you being the good friend you are would never let anyone you cared about down.

Despite Ellie being a total dick to you because she simply couldn’t control herself around you, you sucked it up, carried on and stayed until everyone else decided to leave.

Watching you leave that night, made Ellie realize you weren’t something she could pass up.

Asking for your number was probably the best thing Ellie had ever done in her immortal life. Speaking to you was far better than thinking about you constantly, and after she’d convinced herself she wouldn’t do anything stupid with you, she was finally ready to introduce herself to you, the right way.

It’s how she constantly found herself like this, searching for your warm embrace around her cold, dead body every time she found the opportunity. She’d come to you when she was done working, she’d come to you when the girls at the bar were boring her, she’d even come to you when she simply knew you were home and she had nothing to do.

Ellie hummed softly as she looked up at your apartment building, the warm summer breeze wafting against her skin as she stared up at your window, the white curtains blowing out with the wind. She sighs to herself.

“Told you to stop leaving your window open…” she mumbles softly to herself.

The human eye wouldn’t ever be able to catch the way Ellie climbs up the side of your building, her arms and legs scaling it like a pro, making it look as simple as walking, or even breathing. It’s too fast, and in the blink of an eye, she’s at your balcony, long fingers pulling back your curtains to get a look at your sleeping figure.

She watches as your chest rises and falls, your blanket covering your sleeping frame, bare legs kicked out from under them, shining under the moonlight. She isn’t sure how long she stays there at your window staring at you, watching in awe as you do something as simple as sleep.

It isn’t until you shift slightly in your sleep, a dreamy sigh leaving your lips, that Ellie finally pushes her long legs over your window to step into your room, sneaker clad feet pressing onto the wooden floor of your bedroom.

She looks around for a moment, taking a deep inhale as she lets your scent wash over her for a moment, eyes fluttering shut as she simply lets you consume her, fill her up and make her feel whole again.

Make her feel alive again.

You never really understood it, why Ellie lingered when she hugged you, face pressed at the nape of your neck, swaying you slowly as she clung to you longer than normal. Well…you did know, at least you’d find out later on when Ellie finally explained everything to you…what she was, how it happened.

Although, it was only half what you thought. Sure, the smell of your blood made Ellie’s mouth water, her nostrils flare and her throat burn, but it was so much more than that. You made her feel whole, and even if it were a few seconds, she was going to make the most of it every time she got the chance.

And that’s what she felt when she was in your little room. The cool breeze filling up the space, the dim lights casting a warm glow over you because you couldn’t sleep in the dark. You used the excuse of creating an ambiance for yourself when you slept, but Ellie knew you far better than that. It was like you’d perfected the feeling of comfort, bottled it up and sprayed it around your room every other day.

The wind blowing your curtains a bit harder caught Ellie’s attention, and she sighed softly as she walked over to it and shut it. She had told you time and time again to quit it, warning you about the weirdos that would love to take advantage of a pretty girl with her window open while in the most vulnerable state.

Even though the only weirdo that ever snuck into your room through said window, was Ellie. If anything, your little habit only fueled Ellie’s addiction for you further.

The sound of your window closing makes you groan softly in your sleep, and at that sound, Ellie knows she’s done it.

While she wanted nothing more than for you to be awake when she came over, she hated waking you. You looked so fucking serene when you slept, and Ellie felt like the devil himself whenever she accidentally ripped you away from that, even if the only thing she wanted was for you to be awake and talking to her.

Your body twists and turns a bit, slowly finding its way out of the drowsy state of sleep you were in. You let out a gentle yawn before one of your hands come up to rub your eyes, moments before you turn to your side to face her, hand resting between your cheek and your pillow as your eyes open and focus on the tall frame standing in front of your bed.

Ellie is convinced nothing scares you, because for as long as she’d been doing this, sneaking into your bedroom and watching you sleep, on the rare occasion that you wake up and catch her, you never seem scared. You don’t gasp or scream, you don’t even flinch when you see the dark, looming presence stood there in front of you. Ellie was sure the first time you caught her there, that you’d scream in horror before calling the police on her.

But you never did. You always stared at her with a sleepy smile, eyes puffy with sleep, lips a bit swollen, looking at her as if she were your favorite person in the entire world.

And like all those nights before, you do the same. A gentle yawn falls from your lips as you rub your eyes once more before tugging your blanket further up your shoulder.

“Ellie…” you sigh out softly, and you sound so fucking dreamy, so beautiful does her name sound falling from her lips. It makes Ellie weak in the knees.

She walks over to you slowly, smiling softly down at you as she grows closer and closer to your bed until she’s standing over you, one of her hands coming down and running around your blanket clad shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Wanted to come visit…sorry I woke you” she hums soft, her hand traveling up until it reaches your face, one of her fingers caressing your cheek ever so slightly. Your eyes flutter shut at this, and she can see that the gesture alone is nearly enough to lull you back to sleep.

“S’okay…I wake up in the middle of the night all the time…you know that” you assure her, words falling with yet another yawn before you open your sleepy eyes up again to stare up at her.

Before she can even speak though, your content expression is replaced with one of worry as you finally get the chance to focus on her face, your eyebrows furrowing as you prop yourself up on your elbow, your other hand reaching up to touch her cheek as you become more and more alert with each passing moment.

“Are you okay Ellie? You look…why are your eyes so…” you mumble, now on your knees to reach her better, your face in front of hers as your eyes search hers.

She looked pale, paler than usual. Her lips were chapped, eyes dull and sunken in, she looked like she hadn’t slept in centuries, like all the life had been sucked out of her. And while that technically was the case, Ellie often looked vibrant for her dead state, eyes sharp and alert, green eyes almost fluorescent with color when you looked into them.

Immediately, you know what was wrong.

“When’s the last time you…had something to eat?” You ask sternly, eyebrows furrowed and a firm frown on your pouty lips.

That was another thing…Ellie hadn’t properly fed in about two weeks, going on three now.

She let out a gentle sigh, her hands resting on your hips as your own rested on her cheeks, cupping her face and forcing her to look into your eyes even though she avoided eye contact.

She hated when you saw her this way, so weak, so small. She liked it when she was the best version of herself, the version that was well fed, agile and strong. Not like this, not like when she was turning into a shell of the woman she once was.

“I…it’s just been a few nights, angel…it’s no big deal” she tries, giving your hips a firm squeeze as she attempts to convince you that she was fine. However her appearance and her voice is a dead giveaway that she’s lying, the sound hoarse and scratchy, sounding as if she’d been clawing at her throat for days to ease the pain she felt.

“You can’t lie to me, Ellie. You look horrible” you scold the girl.

She lets out a sigh, and she almost feels ashamed of herself. Sure, there were times where a meal was a bit harder to come by, people becoming a bit more aware of the danger that lingered when she was near, but god, Ellie couldn’t remember a time where it was this bad. It was like every single time she got someone in her arms, trapped in her little scheme, something cock blocked her entirely from finishing the deed.

And the more times that happened, the weaker she got.

“I’ve just been really unlucky…okay? Most of us do this in packs or with a fucking partner at least…it gets tricky when you’re on your own” she finally admitted, a gentle sigh falling from her lips as she leaned down to rest her head against your shoulder, pressing her weight against you in the process, as it was slowly becoming unbearable to hold it up herself at this point.

“M’just going through a thing right now, baby…don’t worry about it” she mumbled against you, lips ghosting over your soft skin as she again tried to assure you she’d been fine.

Ellie had always made it a point to never get as low as this, and if she did, she made it a point to never let you see her. What would her sweet best friend think of her if the monster she truly was had the chance to shine through? How would you ever allow her in your presence again once you finally realized how disgusting she truly was?

What Ellie didn’t know, is that you didn’t think any of those things. You could never find her to be a monster or disgusting, you adored her far too much to ever see her that way. No, what you did think when you saw her that way, were any of the things you could do to help her. That was the only thing you wanted, to help her.

You don’t even think twice before you say it, giving yourself a moment to mull over the idea and weigh out the pros and cons before it’s escaping the confides of your mind and making its debut out into your bedroom.

“Feed on me” you blurt out, so quickly you aren’t even sure Ellie fully catches it properly.

But she does, Ellie hears every word, every syllable, she can even hear the way your heart beat quickens after you’ve said it.

She’s slowly lifting her head from your shoulder, eyebrows furrowed and lips frowning as she stares down at you, your eyes wide and hopeful, hopeful that she’ll take the offer, that she’ll allow you to give yourself to her for the sake of her wellbeing.

“No.” She deadpans without a second thought. She doesn’t even give herself a second to indulge in the idea of it, knowing how badly it could end, how terrible it could be with one wrong move, or one gulp too much. Ellie knows that this is nothing to toy with, especially with you.

You’re quickly shaking your head once she rejects your offer, your hands falling from her face to rest down on her shoulders, leaning in a bit to press your body closer to hers.

“Ellie…look at yourself. How were you even able to climb up here?” You plead with the girl, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze before you inhale deeply.

“I’m giving you permission…I want you to do this” your words almost come out like a beg, wanting nothing more than to simply help the girl, to help a friend in need that clearly needed it.

And you knew deep down, that no matter what, Ellie would never hurt you.

Ellie knew it too. She knew that she wouldn’t go too far to take your life away from you. She had been around long enough to have the self control to stop whenever she knew you’d had too much.

However, that didn’t mean it wouldn’t be hard.

She inhaled deeply, giving your hips a gentle squeeze before she finally brought her own eyes up to look into yours. Her pink tongue darted out to run along her lips, wetting the chapped skin before she let out a gentle sigh.

“You’ll tell me when it becomes too much…right?” She asks, desperate for confirmation from you that you won’t let her go too far, even if she wanted to.

You give her a bright smile, a gentle giggle leaving your lips as you nod. “I will…now go on…sooner you do this, the sooner I can sleep” you tease her playfully, which makes her groan softly with a pout.

She sighed softly, reaching forward and pushing your hair to the side to expose the soft, supple skin of your neck. Her eyes zeroed in on it, and she could practically see your pulse from beneath your skin, making her shudder at the thought of it. She leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to your throat, which earns a gentle sigh from you.

“This’ll hurt…” she mumbles against you, peppering your skin with gentle kisses. You simply tilt your head further to the side, resting your temple against her shoulder as your arms hang loosely around her neck, your body pressed against hers.

“Mm…I’ll be okay” you mumble out sleepily, your fingers coming up to toy with the hair at the nape of her neck.

Ellie can feel the way your pulse slows under her lips, and she has to stop herself from groaning due to how fucking strong your smell was right now with your body pressed against hers. She knew that the longer the stood her, mouthing away at your neck instead of actually feeding, she’d just keep you from getting back to the rest that she had interrupted in the first place.

It was now or never.

She sighed softly, swallowing thickly before she opened her mouth a bit wider, fangs protruding out from her gums and taking their rightful place. She let them graze your skin, the sharp teeth sure to leave scratches from something as small as a graze, before she finally latched her lips to your throat, and sunk her teeth into your flesh.

Now…Ellie had her fair share of tasty meals within her immortal life time. There were maybe a handful of people that left a faint memory in her head, better than most of the others she’d fed on in her past, so she was no stranger to a warm body with a nice taste.

But you? God….there was nothing in this world that could’ve prepared Ellie for how fucking…divine you taste. It was like liquid gold on her tongue, the smell that had plagued her mind from the moment she met you a mere tease to the real deal. It made Ellie moan against you, her eyes fluttering shut as her tattooed hands clawed at your waist, gripping the skin so tightly she was sure to leave bruises, pressing you flush against her body.

She could practically feel the essence of your life filling her up and bringing all of her strength back, replacing the once empty, dull feeling in her body with one that could only be described as rejuvenation. The taste you gave her flowing into her mouth and making her feel like she’d died and gone to heaven.

The noises you made only aided Ellie in her blissful state, tiny moans and huffs leaving your lips as you continued massaging her scalp with gentle fingers, allowing her to take whatever she needed from you.

Ellie knew she could’ve drained you, taken every last drop of your life and left you dry. She could do it ten times over if it were an option, however it wasn’t, and she knew at the back of her head she could only take what she needed, and nothing more. So she knew once your grip around her neck loosened a bit, that she needed to stop.

She unlatched from your neck breathlessly, your crimson blood painting her plush lips, red eyes blown out wide as she eyed the damage she’d done to your poor neck, the punctures filling Ellie’s chest with a sense of pride as some of your blood and her saliva dripped down the base of your throat. She leaned in, licking you clean before pressing a gentle kiss to the wound, groaning softly as when she heard you hum softly.

“All…finished?” You mumbled out with a dreamy smile on your lips, eyes half lidded as you stared up at the girl who had just nearly sucked you dry.

Ellie stared down at you with a look of disbelief, the back of her hand coming up and wiping her lips. “You said you’d tell me to stop…” she groaned softly as she gently set you down to lay back on your bed.

You let out a soft yawn, nodding as you tugged your blanket up with a weak hand to drape over your body. “I was…you stopped sooner than anticipated” you giggled out sleepily before you eyed the girl from your bed, already feeling the drowsy affects of sleep taking over.

“You look better already, El…” your compliment made her dead heart swell. She could feel it too, your life coursing through her veins and bringing back all of the good aspects of being immortal, the strength, the radiance, all of it brought back because of you.

She chuckled softly at your words, walking over to your closet and grabbing your first aid kit, fishing a little band aid out before walking back towards you. She sat at the edge of the bed, her pointer and middle finger pushing your jaw up slightly to get a look at the wound she’d given you.

“Here…so you don’t get blood on your pillow” she explains as she pressed the bandaid to your neck. You simply hum in response, and Ellie knows you’re probably already asleep. Between being tired before all of this, and losing blood, she expected for you to be out like a light long before she bid you a goodnight.

She stays a bit longer after you’ve fallen asleep, her long limbs crawling over your body to lay in bed with you, marveling at the way the color returned to your body, the way your chest rose and fell slowly, the way your lips would part with a gentle sigh ever so often. She’d let her hands caress your skin, watching as goosebumps appeared to trail after them. She simply appreciated how human you were, how warm and responsive you were even during sleep.

She leaves once the sun begins to peak above the horizon, knowing you’d want your privacy when you woke up in a few hours. She makes sure to close your window after she’s left too, scaling down the building much quicker than she did when she first arrived.

And while she walks home, the sun slowly casting a warm glow onto the city she lived in, she knew that she’d made a mistake by feeding on you.

Because now? She was completely and utterly ruined for anyone else that she’d feed on after you.

Bloodlust

The word had entirely different meaning for those like Ellie, creatures of the night that fed on the essence of life, the scarlet, metallic liquid that flowed and pumped throughout the bodies of the living.

She had heard of it happening to other vampires, in an instance of finding the human being that acted as a drug to them, making it hard to function without their taste on their tongues. It was an occasion that only ever happened when there was a mutual agreement between a vampire and a human, a hunter/prey proposition that acted in a more…ethical way.

It consumed the one feeding, making it hard to function without the person near, almost creating an inseparable bond between the two, paired with a constant line of food with it as well. It took over nearly everything, mind, body, soul, all of it belonging to the person they fed on, the human often times having more control over the vampire.

Ellie never really believed in it, instead viewing blood as something that was of and in itself, the same all the time. Sure, there were some people that tasted better than others, but blood was blood, no matter who the person was, they were more or less all the same at the end of the day. A meal was a meal, and that was that.

So if that was true, why were you the only thing on Ellie’s mind every waking second after the night she fed on you?

You were always on Ellie’s mind before it all, lingering at the back, making her smile when she thought of something silly you’d said to her earlier in the week, face beaming whenever you’d send a text her way, so it wasn’t out of the ordinary that you were on her mind.

She thought of it constantly, the way you were so…so fucking eager for her, a sense of intimacy lingering in the air of an act so selfless. Your pouty lips parted as you moaned and sighed her name, her lips attached to your neck as you gave her everything. Feeding was always something that felt the slightest bit romantic, the closeness of it all.

But you…doing it with you was different than anything she’d ever experienced.

She knew it meant nothing to you, she knew that it was simply you being a good friend, which meant it was borderline wrong for her to take it any way other than what it was, but she couldn’t help herself. She could still taste you on her tongue when she got home, plopping down into her bed and staring up at the ceiling in her dark room as she felt her core tighten and flutter as she referenced back to the memory.

Ellie couldn’t help herself when she unbuttoned her jeans, slipped her hands down to cup her pussy, and caught her aching clit against her calloused fingers to give it some much needed attention.

And she moaned your name as if it were the only word in her vocabulary, blubbering and crying out for you as she angrily fucked her aching pussy, eyebrows furrowed to the point where she almost looked upset.

“F-fuck….that’s my fucking girl…that’s it…gonna cum all over your pretty fuckin’ face” she groaned out, picturing you settled between her legs, eagerly lapping at her weeping core, grinding down onto your face and giving you everything she had, much like you did when you allowed her to feed on you.

She’d cum with your name falling from her lips, back arching as her hips rolled against her palm, sopping wet cunt painting her slick all over her hand, making it hard to even keep it where she needed it with how wet she was, how fucking riled up you had her.

And she’d do it again, lying in her bed and thinking of the memory over and over again, hanging on to the sound of your voice sighing out her name, moaning for her as she licked her lips, searching for the taste of your blood still soaked on them. All while you were sound asleep in your apartment where she left you.

If Ellie thought she was drawn to you before, she was sorely mistaken. Because now? All she could do was crave you. It interrupted her day to day, made her brain foggy when she wasn’t with you or talking to you.

And soon? It became a habit.

Ellie was at your door every other night, long fingers searching for your hips to pull you closer as she pressed her face into your neck, tongue slipping out of her mouth to run along the now permanent marks on your neck, whispering in your ear about how badly she needed you.

It had become a bit of a routine, Ellie would come over, you’d let her feed on you until she saw fit, she’d go home and fuck herself, and then she would live in her own personal hell for the next few days that she wasn’t able to see you.

It’s how she found herself dragging her body down the hallway to your apartment, a heavy hand coming up to the door and giving it a firm knock.

When you answer, Ellie thinks you look like a dream. Your body is leaned up against the door, head resting against it as you give her a dreamy smile, oversized t-shirt hanging off of one of your shoulders, sleep shorts barely visible beneath the end of the shirt, hugging your ass so perfectly, your white socks bunched up at your ankles.

She has to bite back the moan that threatens to escape when she lays eyes on you.

“Mm…hi Ellie” your voice sounds like the sweetest melody, and she’s smiling sheepishly as she walks towards you, bending her knees a bit as she wraps her arms around your waist, pulling you flush against her tall frame, nearly light you up off the ground completely.

“There she is…” she sighed against you, and it sounds like Ellie can finally breath, like the weight holding her back from breathing in the air she so desperately needed has finally been granted to her, it makes you giggle softly.

You wrap your arms around her neck, humming softly as your fingers come up to tangle in her hair, simultaneously pulling her into your apartment. She kicks the door closed behind her, arms still wrapping you up and keeping you close.

She keeps you close, her head coming up to take a look at the set up you have going in that she’s walked in to. She can tell you’ve been working on your book, your laptop set on your couch paired with your favorite blanket, and a mug set on your coffee table that was still steaming.

“Working on the book?” She asked softly, you nod as you turn around in your arms, and excited smile on your face as you walk over to your spot, clicking the keypad a few times before you shut it.

“Yup. I’m getting pretty far….was wrapping it up right before you came over” you practically beamed.

Ellie always found it so endearing how dedicated you were to your work, and rightfully so, Ellie reminded you time and time again that she’d lived through many eras of famous writers, but you always topped them ten times over and then some. She’d never let you forget the talent you had was rare.

You plopped down on your couch after sliding your laptop into its little compartment under your coffee table, your legs coming up to cross over each other as you pat the spot next to you eagerly, to which she easily obliged of course.

Her old denim jacket rustled a bit as she sat down, resting her back against your couch as she slouched down a bit, legs spread as she stares up at you through the dim, cozy lighting of your living room.

You giggle softly, resting your cheek against your palm as you look down at her. “What are you staring at? You’re looking at me like I’m something to eat…” your words trail off, eyes narrowing at the girl playfully before you sit up, crossing your arms.

“Did you come all the way here to get a free meal out of me, Williams?” Your tone is accusing, but playful, and it makes Ellie chuckle as she bring her tattooed hands up to rub up and down her face before she groans.

“When you say it like that it sounds bad….I see it as seeing my favorite person with something extra added into it…” she defends herself before chuckling, looking back at you as she tugs her bottom lip into her mouth, sucking gently on the plump skin, letting her mind linger to imagine it was your lips she was sucking on instead as her eyes slowly zeroed in on them, similar to if she were under a spell.

“You know you don’t have to if you don’t want to…” she mumbled out softly, voice gentle and truthful.

It was true, Ellie would cut all of this out the second you made even the slightest signal that you were tired of it, or if your body simply couldn’t handle it anymore. She knew that she’d never use you as her personal blood bag. The minute you wanted out, you got it, no questions asked.

You give her a gentle smile though, shaking your head as you shifted your body a bit so that it was now laying down on the end of the couch opposite of Ellie, your head resting against one of the plush pillows you had next to you while you were writing. You spread your legs a bit, making space for Ellie to crawl into before you stretched your arms out for her, a silent call for the girl to come closer.

“I’ll always give it to you, El…you know that. Come…” you call her again with a slight flick of your wrist.

Your words make Ellie’s head swirl, all of it sounding, and feeling, much too similar to something else, something more than just a friend helping another friend out. It sounds like you’re giving something else to her, something she’d dreamt of taking from you from the moment she laid eyes on you.

But she can’t indulge in that, not now, not when you’re being so kind.

She chokes back a groan, the girl slowly crawling over your body, similar to a predator creeping over its prey. Her body consuming yours as she pressed either one of her palms into the plush couch near your head, staring into your eyes as she settled between your warm thighs, the plush skin pressing against a sliver of her hips that was exposed at the top of her jeans. The feeling of her body pressed against your warm cunt, the only thing separating the two of you being the think material of your shorts, drove Ellie to the brink of insanity.

She hummed softly, her eyes trailing down your every feature, taking you in, eating you up for a moment before she grabbed your chin, tilting your head up and away to give her better access to the little area of your throat that had now become hers and only hers.

Soon, she’s leaning down, her body pressed against yours as she peppers kisses along your jaw until she reaches your throat, licking at the two little wounds that were in the shape of her fangs before she sighed against your skin, finally giving in and letting her protruding fangs sink into your skin.

You’d always been comfortable around Ellie, never shying away from her touch whenever she’d grab you whenever you were out together, or letting her easily pull you into her lap whenever you watched movies or played video games together, intimate touches never being out of the ordinary in your relationship.

But now, ever since you and her had started…whatever it was that you’d been doing, you had seemed to cross a boundary that was once put up. What was once little sighs and huffs, turned into full on moans whenever Ellie would press her body against yours and take what she wanted. You’d grip her hair, keeping her close as you moaned and whined out her name, breathless begs for her to keep going.

“Fuck…Ellie…” you moaned out for her, your eyes fluttering shut as your fingers laced into her brown hair, keeping her close as her hands moved from either sides of your head to instead grip your body. Your hips were her favorite, holding onto the plush skin and keeping you close, massaging and kneading you as she pleased, a small piece of her wanting to bruise you up, just so she knew she was able to leave marks on you other than your neck.

It egged her on further, your calls for her making her swipe her tongue over the wound before she continued sucking your sweet essence from your body. Ellie wasn’t sure if you were fond of it at first, but now? With how you reacted? She was sure you enjoyed it, if even a little bit.

She became so drunk off of you, her mind clouded with the intense flavor of your blood, nearly choking on it with how quickly she drank sometimes. One of her hands left your hips, sliding down until she gripped your thigh, pulling it up and closer to wrap around her body, massaging the soft skin as she let one of her legs slip over your other one, so that her thigh was slotted against your cunt, and yours against hers.

Ellie didn’t even realize it at first, but she slowly began to grind into you, letting her thigh rub against your barely clothed pussy as she drank from you, her senses completely overwhelmed with just how fucking good you tasted, how good you felt. She felt her mind and body buzz with electricity when she pressed her chest against yours, and she could feel your nipples hardening through the thin material of your shirt, pressing against her own chest.

“Mm…h-hah…Ellie..I….Ellie please…” you begged, and Ellie was able to hear the way your voice was slowly going, growing more and more hoarse with every moan, every pant.

She was taking too much, and she wasn’t sure if she was begging for you to stop, or to keep going.

Ellie groaned loudly against you, prying her lips away from your dulcet neck, panting loudly as she pulled away further to look down at you, letting herself get a good look at the mess she’d made of you.

Your lips were swollen, eyes growing heavy, skin getting dull. Your hair was messy, and your shirt was pulled down further, revealing more of your shoulder and collar bones, while the bottom was pushed up to show more of your stomach.

It was like a dream and a nightmare all at once.

You blinked a few times as you tried catching your breath, staring up at Ellie as one of your hands came up to cup her cheek gently.

“A-all better?” You stuttered out, giving her that notorious dreamy smile of yours, the one that made Ellie feel like she was the only person in the world that got to see it.

She’s drained you, and yet you were asking if she felt better.

Ellie held back a groan, her large hand wrapping around your wrist before she brought your hand down to press a kiss to your palm, giving you a gentle nod before she inhaled deeply to control the emotions that threatened to escape while she saw you this way.

“Always when I’m with you baby” she chuckled out sadly.

The smile you give Ellie nearly has her in tears, because you look so genuinely happy, so content with the fact that you’ve helped her, that you’ve made Ellie feel better, even if it’s at the expensive of your own comfort.

At the expensive of your own life.

“I’m glad…” you hummed out softly before you yawned, clearly tired out from what Ellie had done to you. It makes Ellie frown, and she’s quickly pushing herself off of you before she scoops you up into her arms to carry you off to your bedroom.

Soon, she has you tucked into bed, your eyes closing almost as soon as your head hits the pillow, and Ellie has your blankets pulled up over your arms. It’s almost mind blowing how quickly you fall asleep, it makes Ellie feel a bit jealous, because she can’t remember a time where she was that comfortable in a bed to fall asleep so fast.

She watches you, of course. Sticking around for a few hours after you’ve slept, keeping an eye on you to make sure your chest continues to rise and fall slowly. She knows it would never go that far, but she always gets nervous after feeding.

Tonight was also different, and it was eating away at her because she knew there wasn’t really a right or wrong way to go about cleaning about it, or comforting you about how wrong this was, and how much Ellie had been draining you. Even the fact that you expected it of her when she came over left a bitter taste in her mouth, one that replaced the sweet one that usually lingered on her tongue after she had a taste of you.

And as she watched you sleep, so peaceful and so serene, Ellie began to think of any way this would blossom into something more. How would this carry on? She would continue sucking from you until you died one day? She’d come to you like a thief in the knight well after you had a family? Children to look after? Your life moving on while she stayed in an immortal purgatory? One where she continued the cycle of coming to you for a quick bite to eat? Paired with a warm body to lay on top of for the time being?

There was no way it could surpass this. You being her friend, helping her in a way not many could. Ellie knew, that deep down, the life she wanted with you was not one that was easy to come by, something that she wouldn’t dare ask of you. From the moment she saw you, she wanted more. Because that’s what she did, she took, and took, and took until there was nothing left to take, and it was slowly happening with you.

But Ellie loved you too fucking much to take until you were nothing but a shriveled up peace of what you used to be.

So, she took one long last look at you and she left your window. Because that night, she promised herself that she was finished. The life she wanted with you unfortunately wasn’t written in the stars for her, and she knew that from the moment she saw you.

Ellie was letting you go, because she knew it she didn’t.

She’d just end up killing you.

[llamagoddessofficial]

hello llama

i have been thinking and headcanoning about vampire bad sanses lately, so i was curious if you have any thoughts about or interest in vampires of the nightmare and crew variety? (人 •͈ᴗ•͈)

"do i have interest in vampires", he asks

ok, i will share my extensive vampire brainrot. but in return..... you have to write that vampire fic.... oooOOooO look into my eyes you know you want to write it ooOoOooo 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

I very much like the idea of Nightmare's castle being Castlevania-style. Lots of spooky architecture, lots of ancient magical passages that haven't been seen in centuries.

Horror can be summed up in one word. Bloodlust. There's a constant hunger inside him he can't ever seem to fill, driving him almost to the point of madness. He is more beast than man. When he smells or tastes blood, he loses control of himself, becoming little more than a starving wild animal - his capability for slaughter is limited only by his appetite. So unless Nightmare requires it, he generally abstains from blood. He doesn't like losing himself so entirely.

Something about you makes him forget his hunger. Is it your voice? Your scent? He has no idea, but oh, it feels good to feel whole. When you're around it's as if he'll never be hungry again... he follows you like a dog, grinning intensely every time you look at him. This is one hound that can't be shaken.

Despite his 'condition', he finds a lot of solace in cooking. Nothing will give him the same drug-like rush as blood but human food is nonetheless warm and filling and distracts him momentarily from the emptiness. He enjoys the process of making it, too, doing something with his hands. Let him cook for you, please? Watching you eat brings him vicarious joy.

Dust's backstory is one of legend. Something resembling a story can be spun from the loose whispers. A vampire invaded his peaceful isolated village hundreds of years ago, intending to turn the helpless populace into enslaved vampires. Dust, the first to be bitten, turned and slaughtered them all himself - and despite being a vampire for barely a week, the equivalent of a stumbling newborn, he killed the centuries-old invading vampire in single combat.

No one's quite sure why he's joined Nightmare. Perhaps Nightmare was keen to take this uniquely violent creature under his wing, and Dust just didn't really care where the wind took him. Or perhaps he has some other motive, hidden beneath that silent face. Who knows.

... Dust might be quiet, but it's obvious he's fixated on you. Which is a big deal. This is a creature who hasn't mustered a second thought for anything but blood for decades; but somehow, you've excited him. He's very clearly interested in you, silently watching your every move, listening intently to every word you say. Too bad he's not much for conversation.

Killer's backstory, on the other hand, is shrouded entirely in mystery. No one knows where he came from, who he is, or what he's done. He simply appeared one day - right within the coveted inner circle of Nightmare himself. He's the Night King's most trusted weapon, and the closest thing he has to a friend.

Killer seems very clear about what he wants. He thinks you're adorable, and he says you'd make such a pretty vampire. He talks (at length) about how much he wants to bite you, and how if it were up to him you'd already be one of them. A lot of his flirting involves calling you things like sweet treat and honeyblood. However... despite all the taunting, all the talk of seeing you as food, Killer is the one in the castle who treats you with the most respect. The others seem to see you as an object, a cute toy, something to squish and own. Killer talks to you like you're a real person. You can't help but like him for it.

Nightmare's inferiority complex has driven him to declare himself the king of the vampires. No one contests - Nightmare is royalty by blood, and vampires place a lot of emphasis on blood. But even if he wasn't, Nightmare frequently murders those who won't bend the knee. Plenty of powerful vampires have fallen embarrassingly fast at his hand.

... Nightmare's goal is to make you agree to be his spouse. A pretty little human partner would be excellent for his image. It would not only demonstrate his incredible self control as such an ancient vampire (not to mention his control over his warriors), but it would also show that his power is so great he doesn't need to strike a political marriage with another powerful vampire. It might also convince some of the pesky rebellious human groups to settle down.

His pride means that he won't force you. Not yet, at least. He likes to think he can seduce you. He's a royal vampire, after all, and you're just a simple human - isn't it only a matter of time?

... But it seems like, as time goes on... he's the one falling.

[bombuni]

Hiii! Can you write about Yeosang, San and Wooyoung? But if you're not okay with three of them, choose any two of them!

midnight stroll

summary: In which you find yourself in the hands of some insatiable, obsessed vampire lords. There’s only one way out. genre/pairing: vampire!woosansang x fem!reader, smut wc: 2.8k warnings: SMUT MDNI, dub-con (reader is swayed into it), predator/prey kink, primal play, chase (?) scene, their spit is an aphrodisiac, biting, a lil blood kink, they are in heat (i <3 horny vampires), creampie bom note: idk why i haven’t done this combo before as a person obsessed with carmilla & atz. lmk what u guys think, this is my first time writing a sort of horror (?) trope :)! pls heed warnings & safe reading bbies! enjoy!

You shouldn’t have gone out at night.

Every single bone-chilling story your mother used to frighten you into staying home now replays inside your head. It’s ridiculous how easily every murderous detail comes to your mind now that you’re actively living those stories. Lost little girl, all on her own, in a strange house on a rainy night.

You don’t know why tonight, of all nights, you decided to explore the old mansion that’s always stood tall in your neighborhood. You just felt something was telling you to come and visit. Every time you’d look out of your window, there it was. Alone and creaking for no one, wood rotting at every turn you make. You’re sure it was beautiful and sparkling in its heyday but now with no one to present for, it’s covered in cobwebs and dust.

The loud boom of thunder strikes and you jump through the threshold of a bedroom. The moonlight that shines in through the tall windows illuminates the tears in the blood red canopy. The bed is perfectly made, untouched by rest. The room is surprisingly large, only occupied by a few pieces of complicated furniture. Its marvelousness is enunciated because of its age. The darkness of the room is only broken by a candle on the bedside table.

Already lit.

You hope, pray, that it’s only another curious soul like you. That you haven’t stumbled upon some creep’s secret hideout and inadvertently become his next victim.

You start to back away. The floorboards creak under every step you take. You’re suddenly hyper aware of every breath you take and the speed of your heartbeat. Your body screams to run, nerves fighting and pulling you towards the exit, but your mind is frozen with the fear of being caught.

A harsh wind bites against the glass, making your blood ice cold in its wake and scaring any rationality out of you.

It doesn’t stop. It probably won’t for a while, and you’re forced to come to the realization that you’re stuck here. It’s either be picked up by high-speed winds or be hacked to pieces by whoever’s decided to shack up in this old, abandoned mansion. One is a definite and the other is a chance. You decide that if tonight’s the night you die by axe murder, so be it.

The dead tree branches keep scratching against the windows. Like they’re trying to talk to you, telling you to turn around as you venture deeper into the room. You want to listen.

But there’s a slam. Different from the thunderous weather outside. It’s closer and harsher in your eardrums, accompanied by booming footsteps that make your face fall and doom fill your senses. Whoever it is is making a beeline towards the room you’re in. They’re arguing with someone, frustration evident in their voice.

“Wooyoung, you were supposed to keep your eye on her.”

“It’s fucking pouring outside! How can I see when God is clearly trying to drown us all again?”

Their voices are muffled, but the danger is still clear. They have funny, unrecognizable accents that you’ve never heard before. You can’t really pinpoint it, as you’re focused on figuring out a way to get the fuck out of there.

Your panic rises as you hear the footsteps stop and no more conversation. The pause makes you hurry, fearing they’ve somehow sniffed you out. The greed of whoever built this room gives you no hiding spot, the free and large space being more of a dancefloor than an enclosed bedroom.

The knob to the room turns. With effort, the door creaks open. It introduces fear and an overwhelming panic into your system as your entire body shakes. You just hope to God that they don’t decide to check under the bed.

“I can smell you.”

Your breath catches. You think that if you stop breathing and scrunch your eyes hard enough, you’ll be back in the warmth of your room. But this is real. Every creaking floorboard, every quiet grunt, and every slow step proves it. It’s nearing you, testing the air to find your exact location. You know it’s an it, because how else could it have possibly figured you out so quickly?

“Your heart is racing like a rabbit. Pitter patter. Come out already.”

You cover your mouth to silence the scream of fear that wants to escape. It’s by the bed now. Stopped right behind you, as if it could see you right through the bedsheets and under the springs. The bed creaks as it slowly clambers onto it.

It sees you. It knows what you are and where you are. You’re simply staving off time until it decides to eat you whole. It’s toying with you.

Your body moves on its own as a cold feeling encloses around your ankle, freezing you over. The thing laughs at you, like the way you scramble from it is the most hilarious thing it’s ever seen. Your legs wobble and weaken at the frightening sound, but you run steadfast.

The hallways are long and winding. The only light source as you try to figure a way out of the castle is the lighting that crashes through every few seconds. Your sides start hurting after a few minutes of running in circles. Stuck and hurting in an unfamiliar place is not how you want to spend your evening. You slow down to catch your breath, finding yourself in some sort of lounge room. The fireplace burns on, and you realize the sight of these flames brings you no warmth. It only strikes unrelenting fear in you. The room is nicely decorated and homely, like it was never touched by time. The scene almost looks inviting. Almost, if it weren’t for the hauntingly alluring painting watching over you atop the fireplace. The three men face forward and are creepily stiff, jet black hair gelled back and their dark outfits perfect to a fault. The only odd thing is their eerie, sharp smiles that show off their red-stained, shining teeth. Like a wolf’s last warning before they sink their teeth into you.

You’re sort of hypnotized by the pretty strokes, but a voice breaks you out of your thoughts.

“Little rabbit, why do you run?”

Your legs move on their own once again, but before you can even move an inch, two pairs of arms wrap around you. Their hold is impossibly tight, like they’re still trying to figure out their own limit before they accidentally pop you open. That same voice that laughed at you before is right in your ear now, giggling maniacally and digging their sharp nose into your neck.

They inhale deeply, “Smell that, Yeosang. It’s like nothing I’ve smelled before. Wouldn’t you agree, San?”

The owner of the other voice, San you assume, stands from the dark leather chair facing the fire. He seems otherworldly. Dangerous.

His voice is low, “Little rabbits always smell good.”

The one who you presume to be Yeosang presses himself into you until you’re practically breathing through the same lungs, “Especially when they’re so afraid.”

You shut your eyes in fear when he drags the sharpest canines you’ve ever felt along the warmth of your neck, “Whatever you want. I’ll do whatever you want,”

The way your voice shakes only lures San in. He tuts at you, “You shouldn’t make such promises to us, darling.”

You can feel all three streams of breath on you. They’re all overpowering and oppressive in their own way, crushing your resolve until you’re practically jelly at their touch. The two holding you won’t stop nosing into you and exploring you, hands crawling under your shirt and lifting your skirt as if they have no control over themselves. They’re surprised by your warmth, smitten and addicted to it already. It’s something they haven’t really felt before. At least not recently.

Your breath shakes as their cold hands slide over your tummy, “Just-just let me go, I won’t tell anyone what happened. I promise.”

“Wooyoung!”

Wooyoung seems to grow impatient and drags his wet, languid tongue over your pulse point before biting down gently, restraining himself. He savors the salt of your skin, wondering if that’s how your tears taste. Or if they’re even more delectable.

The wetness of his mouth that sticks to your skin sets you on fire. Your skin is tingly, too warm to be yours now. You know he’s marked you somehow because you can feel your entire body burning up, passion and craving reaching limits you’ve never reached.

San bares his fangs and the glint of them takes your breath away, “I told you to be patient,”

“Oh, just smell her, San. I had to taste her,” Wooyoung’s voice is muffled as he presses his face into your shoulder.

You can feel the heat of his lips crawling up your spine. Yeosang’s hand on your hip leaves a trail of desire everywhere. Everything feels different. Better.

You’re still rational enough to know that something’s not quite right inside of you, “What’s happening to me?”

Your voice is shaky, meek, weak, and San loves it. He can feel his grasp on himself slipping, his mouth salivating at the sight of you being touched and felt.

Ever since their heat began, their bodies only craved you. Out of the hundreds of mindless people in their area, you’re the only one they’ve figured could handle them. There was something about you even they, as supreme beings, couldn’t figure out. They want to keep you as their own personal pet and find out.

Wooyoung is buzzing with energy all over you, “Don’t you feel it? You’re becoming ours,”

Is that what you felt before coming here? Is this where you’re meant to be? Consumed wholly by creatures of the night?

Yeosang’s hand snakes down the band of your skirt, lengthy fingers easily sliding in between your folds. Wooyoung chuckles at your reaction, breathing in your sweet scent, “Little wet rabbit.”

The squelch sounds out into the room and you can hardly believe your ears, “W-wait, please-“

San makes his way to you in two quick strides, suddenly kissing you as if trying to swallow you whole. You feel his voice in the back of your throat, “I can’t take it anymore. I need to ravage you.”

Yeosang’s hand doesn’t stop running over you and playing with your wetness, “I just need to taste you. Just once. Then I’ll stop, rabbit.”

Something happens to you when San’s lips are against you, tongue fighting against yours. Your body surrenders itself to him, to all of the hands that are on you. There isn’t any fear inside of you anymore, in fact, you find the fact that you ever felt any in the first place hilarious. How could you? How could you when Yeosang is so lovingly pleasing you? How could you when Wooyoung is sucking and licking at your neck like it’s a lifeline? How could you when San is kissing you wholly, taking your heart out for himself through your lips? They’re right. This is where you’re supposed to be.

Yeosang can feel the moment you truly surrender yourself to them, the wetness between his fingers overflowing now. He attempts to rub at your bundle of nerves, but grows frustrated when your tight skirt gets in the way of his movements. Before you can say anything, he rips the skirt off you, tearing into the material like it’s nothing to him.

He throws the fabric somewhere into the room before kneeling down in front of you. You’re too enraptured by San’s lips to notice him, and he pouts at that.

Yeosang holds your trembling thighs and licks a long stripe onto your pussy lips, looking up at you with sweet, begging eyes. When you gasp and look down at the feeling of his tongue against you, there’s newfound vigor in his face. Yeosang sucks onto your lips, the taste of you quelling his need. He doesn’t care how messy he gets as he spreads your juices over your thighs and all over his mouth, moaning as he feels how utterly desperate your hole is. He plays with your entrance, trying to figure out what makes your knees buckle. As his lips move to depravely kiss at your clit, you almost fall down with him.

San’s strong arms catch your waist easily, “That’s it, little rabbit. Give yourself to us.”

You nod your head and Wooyoung laughs obnoxiously at your pathetic answer, “Look at the poor thing. She’s sopping wet.”

Yeosang smiles dreamily up at you with your cum on his face. He wipes at his face but it doesn’t do much, the glint shining in the light of the thunderstorm. He licks his lips hungrily, “You taste sweet. Like candy.”

San growls impatiently, bending you over a beautifully carved sofa. You feel bad staining it with your pleasure, but the owners don’t seem to mind. His cock, large and forbidding, presses against your entrance. He leans over your back until his nose reaches that sweet point connecting your jaw and neck. The one that revealed everything about you and your sweetness through your electrifying scent. He feels his addiction grow with every inhalation.

He takes a big breath as his cock finally slides into you, every inch adding onto the tingling satisfaction passing through all of his body as he nestles himself inside of you. His cock has no trouble slipping through the wetness that spills out of you, the moist warmth of your pussy filling his gut with an unfamiliar burn. His hand moves up along the front of your body, grabbing tightly onto your jaw to hold you in place. His sharp claws dig into your blushing cheek.

San fucks you with a barely-there restraint, huffing into your ears as he drills into you. He seems to have forgotten his past hesitance, in fear of scaring you. Now all that’s left is his raw need and desire for you, this intense ache taking over as he continues stretching you open. Your hole feels better than he ever could imagine, ever could bear. Every squeeze you give sends him reeling, his gut tightening with every thrust.

Wooyoung replaces San’s hand on your jaw, puckering your lips and laughing as your entire body jolts against San. He bares his fangs with a wide smile, razor-sharp and primed for poaching. He licks down your neck, savoring the taste of your humanity, your beating heart. The constant song within you is entrancing.

Wooyoung can’t resist. His canines sink into your shoulder, his eyes rolling back into his head when he finally gets a taste of the real you. It’s exhilarating, dizzying. Frenzied and fervent now, Wooyoung licks at the fresh wound he’s made, the tiniest dribble of red trickling down. Every one of your liquids is just so, so intoxicating.

He feels the effects of you, “My delicious pet rabbit. Mine, mine, mine.”

You whine against Wooyoung as your mind is clouded with pleasure and pain, San’s thick cock still hitting deeper and sparking your gummy walls with an intense gratification. There’s a meek voice in the back of your head telling you to wake up, but it’s quickly drowned out as Yeosang kisses slow, lithe kisses along the skin of your opposite shoulder. He’s watching as you’re treated like a piece of meat by San, teary-eyed and trembling, and can’t believe he’s ever gone without you. Without the smell of your heady, inflaming sex filling his senses or the sight of your abused, puffy pussy.

He takes another giant breath in of your rousing scent before biting down, his canines piercing you just as Wooyoung’s did. Yeosang shudders at the taste of you, a bright, addicting flavor. You’re simply made for them.

He mutters as you moan against him, “What a slutty little rabbit you are.”

The second Yeosang’s fangs rip through you, San fills your gummy walls. His cum marks and ruins you for anyone else. He growls animalistically against you as you tighten and squeeze, biting into his fist and drawing enough blood that it drips down from his arm onto your back. He still tries to hold back for you. Even in his most raw and savage, with his hips still moving and deliriously fucking his cum back into you and making a mess, he tries not to cause you pain. Not anymore at least.

San’s gravelly voice reaches down to your bones, his entire body tightening up against you as more and more cum jolts into you, “There you go, little rabbit. Stuffed full. Don’t you feel better?”

You feel it dripping between your thighs. The pearlescent liquid that used to make you feel scandalized, demeaned. It gives you a purpose now, to be used as their rabbit. Their meal to be devoured.

[bunkoos-mole-enthusiast]

Weekly Jungkook Fanfic Recs

Some fine JK fics for your reading pleasure. 🔞 Please show your appreciation to all the wonderful authors :)

The Forgotten Spaces: You've been dancing on the same dance crew since your teenage years, and you finally have an important role in it. It feels like life is taunting you when your rival comes back after disappearing for a year, ready to tease you every chance he gets. Will the teasing turn into more, or are you going to take him down with you? https://www.tumblr.com/oddinary4bts/714163315613614081/the-forgotten-spaces-masterpost-jjk?source=share When The End Comes: Seven years after you've started dating Jungkook, long distance creates a wedge in your relationship. When the only solution seems to be breaking up, you go your separate ways even though love still lives in the two of you. Will you find a way back together, or has the end come for you and Jeon Jungkook? https://www.tumblr.com/oddinary4bts/727637458044469248/when-the-end-comes-masterpost-jjk?source=share&ref=oddinary4bts

The Boy With Galaxies In His Eyes: You had never thought the night sky could be found in someone’s eyes. That is, until you met Jeon Jungkook and his gravity pulled you in. Will he crush you with the galaxies in his eyes, or will you learn to explore his worlds and make them yours? https://oddinary4bts.tumblr.com/post/694226660441128960/the-boy-with-galaxies-in-his-eyes-jjk

Sinful Lust: In an attempt to spice up your bedroom life with your boyfriend Min Yoongi, you suggest bringing another man into the action. Yoongi seems reluctant at first, but when you mention his friend Jeon Jungkook, he can’t deny his attraction. All that’s left to do is to convince Jungkook into participating... https://www.tumblr.com/oddinary4bts/724853153529495552/sinful-lust-masterpost-myg-jjk?source=share

Oh My God, They Where (Quarantined) Roommates: What do you do when you're quarantined for months on end with Jeon Jungkook - S-tier cuddler, workout robot and thirst trap extraordinaire? Fuck him, you guess. https://ot7always.tumblr.com/post/624575056240050176/oh-my-god-they-were-quarantined-roommates

Once Bitten, Twice Shy: You meet Taehyung college and he convinces you to move to his hometown with him. The town is nice, Taehyung’s friend are great, and you get along with everyone except Jungkook. You can’t seem to figure out what you’ve done to make him not like you, and why did you care so much? Also, why did none of them ever get cold? https://www.tumblr.com/pbandjk/184635794224/once-bitten-twice-shy Alpha Jeon: You’ve been raised to be a Luna since you were born. You’ve always had an idea of how your future would be, there was little room to imagine anything different. You’d meet your mate and fall madly in love, and the two of you would take over for your parents once they got older. But what happens when a certain wolf comes in and throws all of your plans on their head? https://www.tumblr.com/pbandjk/636812449904017408/alpha-jeon-masterlist

Bite Me, Jeon: Somehow you convince Jeon Jungkook to look into theories of vampirism for a research paper. What Jungkook doesn’t expect, is for vampirism to become a very real and very personal problem for him. https://sailoryooons.tumblr.com/post/683613241221464064/bite-me-jeon

Habits Of A Clandestine Nature: College au. https://www.wattpad.com/story/365219172-habits-of-a-clandestine-nature-%E2%80%A2-jjk

Silver Chains: Jungkook is inquisitive, he likes asking questions. He also likes fucking. These are both great qualities - when done separately of course. After the Muster, he asks you numerous questions, but whether they were out of genuine interest or purely to tease, the answer escapes you (as always). https://satnin-darling.tumblr.com/post/654462205050355712/ silver-chains-m-one-shot-jeon-jungkook

[awkuni]

༻⋆ 。𝓬𝓸𝓶𝓮 𝓸𝓷 𝓪𝓷𝓭 𝓫𝓲𝓽𝓮 𝓶𝓮, 𝓶𝓻. 𝓿𝓪𝓶𝓹𝓲𝓻𝓮 ! ♱

⤷ “ he immediately lets the cat go, whirling around to meet your mirth-sweet irises. his lips twitch, and you can’t exactly tell if he’s about to scowl or break out into a rare smile. ”

part of k.tober ノvampire!kuronushi x fem!readerノnsfw — mdni. biting. blood-sucking. unprotected sex. creampie. semi-public sex ( in an alley ). mentions of ‘nushi intentionally starving himself. ‘nushi being possessive. wc .. 3480.

  kuronushi adored every fibre of your being; whether it be the soft, hypnotic laugh which naturally expelled from your lungs when you found amusement in something he did, or the way you would trail your thumb across his fangs after pleading him for hours to let you see the finest glimpse of them. nevertheless, he knew the one thing that could never be topped.

  your blood.

  the scent was always sickeningly sweet, the lovely red liquid twirled itself in saccharine. albeit not being fond of sweetness, he found the taste addicting, as if he was being pulled by the strings of a meticulous puppeteer.

  it was, by far, his favourite meal to date. albeit needing it to survive, he simply can’t stomach the taste of another persons blood except yours. however, it did come with a downside—a downside of hurting you.

  it brought great distaste on his tongue, a large juxtaposition to the addictive pang of your blood. he has tried to push it to the back of his mind every time he fed from you, but it was hard knowing that you felt pain with every brush of his fangs against your skin, the cries which spilled carelessly from your lips tugging a nerve in him, striking through his chest like a crossbow, and you were the archer.

  he’s fully convinced that the sole purpose fate brought you both together was for you to bewitch him. you had fully hypnotised every fibre of his being, and he felt physically incapable of being without you for more than a day—he needed his fill of your sweet, scarlet nectar; but he couldn’t do that right now, as you weren’t even here. you hadn’t been home for the past week, something about a job opportunity out of town? he hadn’t really bothered to catch the details, finding no fascination in mortal trivialities.

  he could feel his thirst slowly crawl up the back of his throat. it was driving him crazy, and he was using the last bits of his strength to compose himself, not even to mention the pent up arousal which had been gnawing at the back of his mind since the first day you left. sure, he had managed to get himself off, but it didn’t feel the same without you.

  believe it or not he was actually starting to miss your stupid face, your touch, your voice, everything. he felt himself spiral into madness, head in his hands as he inhales and exhales shakily. why couldn’t you just… come home already? what was the need for you to be gone for so long? he missed the warmth of your body curled up into his side as you dozed off, or the comfortable weight of you on his lap as he sucked and bit at the soft plush of your neck.

  you had always let him leisurely drink from you, never once had you declined him. yet, now, with you gone, he had no source of food. he did have the option of going out and possibly running into an unlucky stray cat along the way, however he felt as if that wouldn’t aid in quenching his thirst. he only had a thirst for your blood, and you’re blood alone.

  eventually, his hunger becomes too much to bear, and he finds a strong need within his being to find something—anything to prey upon. the small click of the front door is lost to the environment as he’s engulfed within the pitch black of the night, cold breeze brushing flush against his pale cheeks as he sets off, stomach shooting with sharp pains of hunger. 

  he shudders in the cold, vaguely reminiscing about the times that you would be the one complaining and whining to him all the time that it was cold. he could feel his heart going sappy, but he soon extinguishes it as he turns the corner into an alleyway, finding just the perfect victim.

  his tongue runs over his fangs hungrily as he stalks over to the unfortunate cat, movements slow and calculated as to not startle it. he swiftly picks it up in his arms, watching it writhe in his hold and mewl out a couple undecipherable complaints. a heavy sigh relieves itself from the confinements of his chest as he brings the cat up to his mouth, just about ready to bite down until he hears the soft thudding of footsteps behind him.

  before he can even think of turning around, a soft voice calls out to him. soft, yet familiar.

  “it’s so cold out here…” you mumble half-heartedly, hands in your pockets as your gaze locks onto his obscured figure. he immediately lets the cat go, whirling around to meet your mirth-sweet irises. his lips twitch, and you can’t exactly tell if he’s about to scowl or break out into a rare smile.

   “took you long enough,” he scoffs, making his way over to you and gripping your cheeks, pulling you into a heated kiss. everything about it voiced how displeased he was with your absence, and he was doing everything in his power to make up for lost time. his tongue eagerly swirls its way into your mouth, intertwining with yours in an overly lewd display of affection. he groans pressing his body up against yours as he parts momentarily, allowing you the time to breathe. “were you even aware of how much i was suffering when you were gone?”

  his tone was low and sultry, a hand of his trailing up to your chest in order to guide you back against the wall of the dimly lit alleyway. his eyes were half-lidded as he stared at you, eagerly awaiting your answer. the results of his hunger was evident by the way his eyes lingered on your neck, and his everlasting grip on your jaw. warm bouts of his ragged breaths fan against your ripe lips, as if he was itching for another taste.

 “didn’t take you for someone who was clingy, ‘nushi.” you tease, and you can practically hear his teeth grinding together. the movements of his jaw and the twitch of his eyes was subtle, yet it didn’t fall short from your vision. you knew him all too well for that.

  with a harsh click of his tongue his lips come crashing into yours again, however this time he was more slow, more precise with his ministrations. it was more heated, passionate, as if a spark had reignited within the cold mist which puffed out from between your lips, the clouds floating up into the cold night sky. he nipped at your bottom lip, drawing the most miniscule drop of blood which you could swear wasn’t even visible to the naked eye, however kuronushi jumped at the chance to lap it up.

  he mumbles soft curses against your mouth, instantly dipping his head to reconnect the fierce lip-lock situation you two were currently in. “shit, i forgot how good you tasted…” he mutters, letting your lips shift in synchronisation, a blazing display of lust. your soft moans stir something within him, only serving as a catalyst to his burning desire. he, honestly, couldn’t bear the wait anymore.

  soft lips begin to trail down your jaw, continuing its way down to your neck before planting a hot kiss right above the area of your jugular. he can feel the pulse of your heartbeat speeding up against his lips, driving him deeper into a bloodlusted state. 

  his brain was being rewired into a hunger-drunken concept, merely sporting the need to ingest your succulent blood wholeheartedly. one of his hands reach for your hair, pulling your head back to reveal more of your unmarked neck. your eyes remained locked on him, and you could swear that he was almost frothing at the mouth, akin to that of a rabid dog. his eyes lock onto yours for a single moment, as if to ask for your permission before he takes what he pleases.

  with a swift nod from you, he doesn’t wait a moment more. a quick swoop of his head was all it took for a searing pain to present itself, sprouting from your neck and causing you to jolt in his hold. the taste of your blood slowly dripping onto his tongue sends shards of relief straight through his body, a feeling of pure exhilaration which sent a lengthy shudder through each and every bone in his body. the cold chill of the wind brought goosebumps against your skin, however the delicious heat of his body against yours easily warms you up.

  a groan slips from kuronushi’s lips, the delicacy on his tongue was the only think which plagued his mind. he was indulging himself as if he were a starved man, lapping up the ambrosial of your generosity languidly. slurred praises fall from his lips, the scarlet essence immediately pacifying him soon after. the feeling of his tongue dragging itself lightly against the bleeding wound caused a soft moan to be pushed out of your lungs.

  he feels his mind come to a standstill, as if that singular noise which fell from your caring lips just halted the spin of his whole world. the grip on your hair tightens notably, a futile act at trying to keep his composure. he parts from your neck momentarily, letting the blood freely fizz up and out of the delicate puncture wounds which his fangs had founded. it reminds him that you trust him, you trusted him to not go too far and to not fully drink your life force from you.

  he takes his hand out of your hair, bringing it down to your hip and lightly squeezing the plush flesh there, imprinting his bruising grip on you. he dips his head to lap up the crimson which has now trickled down to the crook of your collarbone, his tongue swathing to meet the embellishment of his fangs in your neck once more.

  you don’t miss the way his hands disappear up the hem of your dress with suave, pressing up against your underwear, the feeling no heavier than a feather brushing against your skin. it makes your breath hitch, the feeling of him sucking at your neck and his fingers just barely teasing you through the thin cloth of your panties sends your mind into overdrive, and suddenly you’re the one driven mad out of lust for him.

  his hands move with an awful lot of precision, knowing the places to touch in order to get you riled up, but not give you the pleasure which you oh so desperately craved. the whine you let out is the epitome of your arousal, a soft cry akin to that of a bird calling out in the solemn midnight sky. a heavy huff of his fans against your neck, as if he was holding it in for longer than he was suppose to. he’s panting, gulping down rich bouts of oxygen as his hand kept massaging slow circles into your swollen bud. a strangled moan escapes its way past your dire lips, a subtle plea for him to get straight to the point and stop teasing you senseless.

  a raspy chuckle emits from his chest, the rumble faint but noticeable against your chest. it sends a flurry of heat down your spine, accumulating in your core like fuel to a fire. “so desperate already? tell me, did you touch yourself when you were gone?” he coos, like melted sugar in your ears, trickling into your brain and causing it to become fuzzy. the timeline of when you were gone suddenly seeps in together, becoming one big watercoloured blur after being escorted to the back of your mind.

  you shamefully nod, the red hot blush which branded your cheeks slowly creeping down the back of your neck. “i missed you s’much, ‘nushi…” you whine out right into his ear, slowly moving your hips up to meet his fingers, the delicate friction almost making your knees buckle beneath you. “but it didn’t feel the same… needed you.”

  the soft tone of your voice and the sheer notion that you needed him was enough for his rationality to flip upside down, eager fingers dipping into the waistband of your underwear and tugging them harshly down your legs, letting them drop around your ankles. once his fingers come into contact with your folds you gasp, the freezing cold nature of his body proving itself a stark contrast to your flaming arousal. his fingers fondle with your clit, pinching and rubbing the small bundle in a way that gives you too much pleasure too quickly. you feel as if time had stopped, and nothing mattered in the present moment except him and his fingers which moved with expertise as they slowly sunk into your cunt. that was the one thing that made you aware of reality again.

  “you needed me, huh?” he mocks, fingers curling deep into you before beginning to shallowly pump in and out of your warmth. the feeling of your walls clamping down around his fingers almost makes him choke on his own breath, the sensation causing the blood within his fingertips being sent directly south. “f-fuck, tell me then, is this what you’ve been craving?”

  your melodic whines bring out something in him, a desire of which he hadn’t ever felt before until right now. it’s as if a carnal longing has been awakened within him, as if it had been laying dormant for the centuries that he’s been on this planet, empty soul searching for someone to fill the hollow interior.

  he wholeheartedly believed that it was you. you were the thing he was missing, you were the only one that could fulfil the deep, black desires of his tainted being. with the meek nod that you gave him in response to his question, he could feel his pants gradually getting tighter, the way you cowered away from him, submitting to him in every aspect possible.

  his fingers spread within the tight heat of your pussy, creating a scissoring motion into the plushness. your juices coated him to the knuckle, his fingers glistening in the moonlight each time he would pull them out, only to let them disappear into you once more. it was euphoric, the heat rising to your head and causing a pleasurable, lightheaded feeling to arise.

  your eyelids flutter as you approach your orgasm, lashes batting at him in a seductive manner which only manages to spiral him deeper into his lust-induced madness. this only proves to him that he needs to drive his fingers deeper, more rougher into you as he abuses that one spongy spot which crowned the paradigm of your libido.

  with a broken cry, you release around his fingers, a large surplus of endorphins swirling its way up your spine. you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to focus on the unadulterated pleasure which filled every waking thought of yours. your vision seems spotty behind the confidence of your eyelids, as if pieces of a puzzle had gone missing within the huddled mess.

  reality comes back to you, the puzzle pieces slotting into place upon hearing the sound of rustling clothes and the warmth of something warm and thick pressing up against your sopping cunt. you reluctantly open your eyes, followed by a gasp as he proceeds to carefully press his cock into your pussy, the gummy walls firm yet soft around his girth. it split you open, a slight burning pain felt as he fully hilted himself within you. you never thought you would feel the amount of relief you felt by finally being sufficiently filled after a whole week without his touch. it was addicting, like you were indulging yourself in a decadent drug which only served to make your mind hazy and make you lose control of your inhibitions.

  each and every word you tried to say was slipping through your fingers like sand flowing through and hourglass, the fine particles choking up the back of your throat and preventing you from vocalising a single one of your thoughts.

  the fuzzy feeling in your head begins to dull slightly, and instead of being unaware of reality, you were now fully aware of every ridge of kuronushi’s cock which brushed against your walls while he grinds into you. your hands dart to his shoulders, grasping frantically for leverage as he pulls out only slightly, still wanting to feel you clench down on the majority of his length. he swiftly thrusts back into you, not wanting to waste even a second of your tight heat. he felt his mind become satiated, simply because he finally got to bury himself inside of you. 

  he starts with a slow pace, allowing you to accomodate to the aching stretch which he had suddenly sprung upon your orgasmic-hazy brain. your walls were still overly sensitive from your previous release, and as he hadn’t given you any time to recover your stamina was weakened significantly. each drag of his cock along your sensitive walls coaxed a soft whimper out of your strained throat, your head dipping whilst you panted, desperate for breath. you felt as if it was continuously being thrusted out of you, the movement of his hips becoming too much for you to handle.

  upon noticing the dip of your head, kuronshi scowls in distaste. he wanted you to look at how he was ruining you, wanted to see the foggy sheen which glossed over your eyes whenever he fucked you like this.

  he brings a hand to the side of your jaw, tilting your head up so his indigo eyes could lock onto your watery ones. his thumb swipes over your cheek, caressing the ripe redness with tender care. he wearily inches closer, pressing his lips up against yours to swallow up your persistent whimpers. reciprocating his fervour, you begin to grind your hips to meet his thrusts, your lips parting against his to let out a series of involuntary moans.

  his tip consistently brushed against your sweet spot, stars beginning to burst behind your eyes as his grinds become more desperate, more uncoordinated. instead of calculated motions they were erratic, shaking your body down to the core as you both chased your release. him parting from your lips to go back and nibble on your neck was the surmount of your pleasure, the silky-sweet knot of your orgasm pulling taut within your lower abdomen. your sounds slowly climb up the octave, before you come tumbling off the edge, cunt clenching around him and gushing your fluids around his cock.

  that feeling—the feeling he oh so dearly missed—was all it took for him to finally unravel himself inside of you. his breath hitches, his fangs burying themselves into your neck once more, where he felt that they belonged. he wanted to leave an everlasting mark on your flesh, he wanted to make sure that anyone who took a brief look would know that you belonged to him. the scar that’ll form will be subtle, however the underlying meaning won’t be. its a tangible form of his possessiveness, an embodiment of how he wanted you all to himself. nobody would get in the way of that.

  his thrusts shallow as he fucks you both through your orgasms, before completely stilling. his hips were pressed up against yours firmly, unmoving. he wanted to savour the warmth, wanted to bask within the afterglow of your lovemaking. his gnawing grip on your neck releases, a deep, bloodied bite mark taking the space where his fangs once were. he laps the crimson up almost immediately, which is no surprise to you.

  “lets go home, hm? tell me about this stupid trip of yours along the way…” he mumbles half-heartedly, reluctantly pulling out of you and stirring a high-pitched wince out of your torn system. in a split second his hand was gripping onto your shoulder, as if he had predicted that your legs were going to buckle the way that they did. he lets out an amused snicker, whisking you into his arms in order to aid you. he knew you would have trouble walking, and he would be stuck pampering you for the rest of the night.

  nevertheless, he wasn’t complaining. as long as you were back home with him, he had no issues. in the future, he’ll refuse to have you leave the house for longer than neccessary, a smirk coming across his face at the idea.

  “what… what are you smirking at?” your voice tears him from his frivolous daydream.

  “it’s nothing,” he replied, a clear snarky tone evident in his voice. he glances at your huddled up figure in his arms, his smirk only growing wider. “absolutely nothing.”

[solarmorrigan]

Take the Cake

For the @steddie-spooktober day 26 prompt: Blood Rated: E 🔞 | Words: 868 | CW: blood, explicit sexual content | Tags: established relationship, vampire!Eddie Munson, blood drinking, frottage, hand jobs Divider credit: @steddiecameraroll-graphics

Eddie licks up the length of Steve’s neck, long and slow, relishing in the way he can feel Steve’s pulse pounding beneath his tongue, can feel him shivering in his lap. He applies the barest hint of fang to the tender skin beneath Steve’s ear, and Steve gives his shoulder an ineffectual shove.

“Quit playing with your food,” he admonishes, and Eddie can’t help but snicker.

“I’m not playing,” Eddie says, pressing a kiss to the hinge of Steve’s jaw. “It’s like– have you ever seen a really pretty cake?”

Steve, who has been squirming in his place straddled across Eddie’s thighs, worked up from kisses and teasing touches, eager for the promise of what comes next, goes still. He pulls back and fixes Eddie with a glare that is equal parts bitchiness and bewilderment.

“What the fuck are you talking about?”

“A really pretty cake,” Eddie says, threading his fingers through Steve’s hair and drawing him back in, laying another kiss over his pulse point. “One with all those frosting roses and the fancy piping. And you look at it and think that it’s too pretty to eat.” He scrapes his teeth down the sensitive line of Steve’s throat, relishing in the shudder it gets him, and murmurs against his skin, “You almost don’t wanna bite into it.”

Steve huffs. “Well I’m not a cake, so can you just– ah!”

From where he’s just bitten down, fangs piercing Steve’s neck, Eddie hums out a little laugh, and then sucks.

The first mouthful is always the best, and Eddie will stand by that. Steve’s blood is rich and warm, intoxicating as it coats Eddie’s tongue and runs down his throat. He’s not sure he’ll ever get enough of it – and it helps that Steve is such a willing donor.

The noises he makes are almost as good as the taste of him: the whines, the breathless little oh’s, the gasps of pleasure; it’s exquisite background music for the meal he offers, and the way he shivers and bucks in Eddie’s lap is just the cherry on top.

After a few good mouthfuls, Eddie becomes aware of the rhythmic way Steve is rocking against him, can suddenly feel the hard line of Steve’s cock, trapped in his jeans, rutting up against Eddie’s belly. Eddie hums again, fisting his hand in Steve’s hair and tugging just to hear him groan. He wiggles his free hand between them and cups Steve’s dick in his palm, giving him something firmer to grind against.

Steve’s breath is coming in quick pants when Eddie finally manages to detach from his neck. Blood trickles down from the twin marks he leaves behind, and he licks it up with the broad flat of his tongue, eager to catch every drop. Steve whines high in his throat, and Eddie grins.

“Feeling good, sweetheart?” he asks, lips brushing against skin still sticky and damp with spit and blood.

Against the firm hold Eddie has on his hair, Steve nods. “So good,” he murmurs, sounding almost drunk with it as he rocks against Eddie’s hand.

He’s probably had enough, Eddie decides; Steve might be his favorite source of sustenance, but he’s also Eddie’s favorite person, and the last thing he wants to do is take too much from him. He licks back up over the bite mark again, not tasting or teasing this time, but purposeful, knowing that whatever freaky vampire shit is going on with his saliva will have the puncture wounds closing up to almost nothing within an hour. The bleeding, to Eddie’s equal disappointment and satisfaction, has already stopped.

“Eddie,” Steve all but whines, working his hips almost frantically into Eddie’s palm, and Eddie shushes him with a nipping kiss to his neck.

“I’ve got you, baby,” he promises.

Working Steve’s jeans open with one hand isn’t easy, and the angle once he gets his hand down Steve’s briefs is awkward, but the noise he makes when Eddie finally wraps a hand around him makes it worth the effort.

He’s wet already, leaking enough precome to make the slide of Eddie’s hand around his cock easy and quick, and it isn’t long at all before the rhythm of Steve’s hips is stuttering, his every desperate sound called into the open air as Eddie pulls his head back with one hand still gripped in his hair. He comes with a wordless cry, nearly a shout, too far gone to worry about how loud he’s gotten, and Eddie has always been of the opinion that the noisier Steve gets, the better.

Eddie works him through it, pumping his hand and thumbing the sensitive spot just beneath the head of Steve’s cock until Steve has gone limp and shivery, his whole body curling in towards Eddie. Eddie lets him go, releasing his hold on Steve’s hair and stroking gently at his scalp while Steve buries his face in his shoulder.

“Don’t go passing out on me, honey,” Eddie says. He moves his hand from Steve’s hair to his thigh, wrapping possessive fingers around him as he rolls his hips up against Steve’s ass, letting him feel the insistent press of his own hard cock. “We’re not done just yet.”

[lostfracturess]

masterlist

series.

symptoms & causes — professor gojo x med student reader

series | ongoing | wc 181 k | angst & more angst

↳ he's arrogant, self-centered, and he's your professor. renowned for his brilliance in neurosurgery and infamous for his allure. too bad you have to work with him on this research team. now you're stuck with dr. satoru gojo, delving into the complexities of both the brain and the heart—and of how far you'd go for a love that could destroy not only him but you as well.

remedies & reasons — professor geto x law student reader

series | ongoing | wc 34.6 k | fluff, slice-of-life & angst

↳ this wasn’t supposed to happen. not that miserable internship at the law firm you hated, not him becoming your doctor, and definitely not that drunken night at the bar. but he helped, and god, you needed a friend. and he did too. except it's never just friendship with him, is it? it could be perfect—messy, complicated, but perfect. if only his heart wasn’t already taken (spin-off of symptoms and causes).

games & matches — satoru gojo x suguru's daughter reader

series | completed | wc 37 k | smut, fun & little angst

↳ after a night of partying and drinking, you run into none other than satoru gojo — your dad's infuriatingly hot best friend who you haven't seen in years. blame it on the alcohol, but you start flirting with him. and he flirts back. so, can it really be that wrong to want to fuck your dad's best friend? after all, what happens in the kitchen at 3AM stays in the kitchen, right?

one-shots.

in the backseat? or on the stairs? — gojo x reader

one-shot | wc 6.3 k | porn without plot

↳ you and satoru have been driving each other crazy all night with your constant teasing. just your luck, the only seat left in the car is right on his lap. with every bump and turn on the road home, you can't help grinding against him and with his moans in your ear, it's only a matter of time before something more happens right?

three words i could not say — gojo x gn!reader

one-shot | wc 7.4 k | childhood friends to lovers

↳ for twenty-four years, satoru gojo has carried three little words on the tip of his tongue, never daring to speak them aloud. growing up as the strongest sorcerer comes with its burdens, and loving someone means putting them at risk. but when you're about to marry someone else, satoru finally realizes that sometimes the biggest risk is never taking one at all.

thoughts of you — professor geto x med student reader

one-shot | wc 1.2 k | porn without plot

↳ alone at night, suguru finds his thoughts wandering to the one person he can't have — his best friend's girlfriend. he knew he shouldn't do it, but still, he can't help himself as his hand drifts down to palm himself (based on symptoms and causes).

wanna join me in the shower? — gojo x reader

one-shot | wc 1.9 k | porn without plot

↳ satoru gojo craves nothing more than to unwind with you in a hot, steamy shower after a long, stressful day. that's it. no more plot found.

drabbles.

be my prom date — gojo x reader

↳ what happens when the notorious playboy satoru gojo is determined to win your heart and asks you to got to prom with him?

bad ideas and other drinks — gojo x reader

↳ satoru gojo's reputation precedes him, so like any girl with half a brain, you steer clear. but what if he has other plans?

love at first bite — vampire!gojo x reader

↳ satoru gojo was an old vampire. like, really old. he's seen it all in his centuries of unlife. but then you walk into the club, suddenly he's like a newborn vamp all over again, ready to risk it all for a sip of that sweet, sweet blood.

confessions in the rain — gojo x reader

↳ it was all so perfect and you looked so breathtaking in white that he forgot how to breathe as you walked down the aisle towards him. but what happens when the illusion is shattered?

seven minutes of misunderstanding — gojo x reader

↳ of all the ridiculous situations you've found yourself in, being trapped in a closet with satoru gojo has to top the list. especially when you're convinced he's dating his best friend.

headcanons.

#satoru . #suguru // halloween writing . #jjk halloween

© lostfracturess. do not repost, translate, or modify my work.

[farfromstrange]

Interview With The Vampire | Vampire!Matt Murdock x F!Reader

-> Main Masterlist

Pairing: Vampire!Matt Murdock x F!Reader (she/her)

Summary: You are the first journalist to interview Hell’s Kitchen’s resident vampire vigilante after he requested you personally to tell his story. He’s offering you a way out of your miserable job—to make your voice be heard. You’re desperate and curious, so you decide to take the risk. Most people only know him as Daredevil, but you are about to learn who’s really behind the mask. How hard can it possibly be? As it turns out, interviewing a vampire is a lot more complex than you expected it to be, and Matthew Michael Murdock has set his mind on ruining you for any other man to come.

Warnings: SMUT (18+ MINORS DNI), alternative universe, blood play, marking, scent kink, slight Dom!Matt, unprotected p in v, oral f!receiving, biting, vampirism, angst, religious imagery & symbolism, Catholic guilt, mentions of violence, allusions to suicidal thoughts, lots of plot, age gap

Word Count: 12.2k (this is a beast)

Other Characters: Vampire!Elektra (mentioned), Ben Urich (mentioned)

A/n: I finally got this one edited. This is a beast, y’all! I drew inspiration from Anne Rice’s Interview With The Vampire, but particularly the 2022 AMC series (I fell in love with it then and there), but it’s not based on it, so I just played around with the idea and this came out. It’s a lot, but it wasn’t enough for a full-blown series, so you’re getting a big ass One Shot instead. I used my usual Smut tag list, but since this is slightly Dead Dove Do Not Eat, heed the warnings and proceed with care! Don't read it if you don't want to. Anyway, I hope you like it!

Read Me On AO3!

The sun has long set over the Big Apple. Artificial neon, cars, and ceiling lights burning in the highrises along the riverfront cancel out the darkness that has befallen the country’s east. Noise melts into a flood that rolls over people’s senses, but most in New York City have grown numb to the city that never sleeps. 

Sirens follow cacophonies of screams. Teenagers get into clubs with their fake IDs, adults get drunk in bars or go to work the night shift at their underpaid jobs, and the other half cry themselves to sleep, knowing they will have to get up in the morning and go through the same hell all over again. 

Life has become a miserable existence, and it leaves human beings wondering, ‘How much longer do we have to endure this before we all finally drop dead?’

The system fails them. The law fails to protect them. All they can do is lie down and wait to die. And they will die sooner or later. That’s inevitable. 

In Hell’s Kitchen, in a penthouse with a view of the Hudson through colored windows that gloss over during the day and show the city throughout the night, resides someone who most of the city only knows by an alias—Daredevil. 

If anyone crosses him, he will suck them dry. It’s not a metaphor, I’m afraid; his reputation precedes him. Criminals fear the red eyes that come with fists and a sharp set of teeth that will surely run them into the ground. The rest of the city feels a little safer with him, but so far, no one has dared to question his nature. 

Fear is known to work as a paralytic. And this man living in the penthouse by the Hudson is the personification of what one might consider fear-inducing. Without the fear of others, he would not be thriving. 

An apex predator like him lives for the thrill of the kill. When the adrenaline spikes, it makes the prey start running and the blood taste so much sweeter. It is to a creature of his kind what a good glass of century-old red wine would be to a human being; he savors every last drop of it.

Two years out of your Master’s degree at Columbia University, you have become one of those hard-working adults who fall into bed later than they should, and you lie awake at night, wondering how much longer you have to exist before you can live.

You interned at the Bulletin; you ran the true crime and mystery column for over a year before the newspaper shut down. A billionaire from downtown Manhattan bought it to start his own magazine, and you were the only employee he didn’t fire. Instead of relying on your top-tier education and experience though, he has banned you to the lifestyle and beauty column. He’s a beast if you have ever seen one. 

On a Monday in June then, after the sun has risen and is now falling again, you find an envelope on your desk. You glide your fingers over the fancy paper. The letters are written in handwriting that resembles the old letters from the 18th century you had the pleasure of using as research material for your Bachelor’s thesis.

Your heart skips a beat. Could it be…

It is no secret that vampires exist.

Over two decades ago, scientists published papers on the existence of blood-sucking creatures after years of valuable research, and now governments around the world have set out to burn the inhuman species out before they can cause any more damage. Vampirism though is older than humanity itself and unless law enforcement has evidence of homicide, vampires have the right to exist amongst humans. 

They are excellent at hiding their true nature, that much is true. The lore that has been passed down since the beginning of time is only partly true. They know how to adapt and rise from the ashes like elegant phoenixes. The misconceptions surrounding their existence stem from fiction, horror, and fear, but they persist. 

And a rule has been established in society ever since the truth was revealed: don’t talk about vampires! 

Don’t talk about them unless it’s in a fictional context. Don’t put your research out there. Don’t fraternize with them. Don’t risk becoming prey. Don’t be fascinated by them, and God forbid, don’t you dare write articles about them for the public records. If you want to know about vampires, you have to dig, and you have to do so quietly or society will deem you crazy and a freak. 

The worst thing to be is not a flying android or a super soldier with a shield; the worst thing you can be, in this day and age, is a vampire. 

You were a curious child who turned into an even more curious adult. At times even a bitter one because she couldn’t get the answers she yearned for and had to do it herself. So, of course, the We Don’t Talk About Vampires rule came across as rather absurd, learning about it back when you were merely a teen. 

You started researching, and you found out more than you thought you would—more than you thought you could. You wanted to cover the issue in the Bulletin back when you still worked there, but since humans were raised to fear the very mention of vampires in the real world, no longer romanticizing the concept but rather running from it, the truth shall remain hidden. Again, that seemed absurd, but you had to accept it to get ahead. 

You kept researching to the point you convinced yourself you could be one of them if you tried. You felt like you understood them, but nothing could ever fully answer all of your questions to the point it felt truthful. Honest. Real. 

Growing up, everyone told you dead things aren’t supposed to walk. They aren’t supposed to breathe and exist among the living. They are cruel, and vampires are killers that leave trails of bodies the government is hiding from us. Greediness exceeds common sense. The human mind tends to get sick and twisted, and those who don’t fit in hardly ever stand a chance.

Hell’s Kitchen is particularly quiet on the issue. Rumor has it that the vigilante chasing criminals at night and leaving the worst of them dry at the shore of the Hudson while, at the same time, surrendering those he deems worthy of rehabilitation to the authorities, is one of those vampires. 

They call him Daredevil; the savior of innocents and the downfall of the vile. Only a handful of people know who he is. The truth is caught in a spider web of lies, unable to come out unless someone were to tell his story for the world to hear. 

That Monday in June when you open the mysterious envelope on your desk, everything changes. 

He addressed you personally. Your name resembles a masterpiece, the letters swirling at the edges. 

You don’t know me, but I know you.

It’s strange to read your name out of the mouth of a stranger.

I must admit, Miss, I’m a big fan of your writing. And I’m not talking about the lifestyle and beauty column Mr. Doherty of the ‘Silver Lining’ has confined you to.

No, I am a big fan of the work you used to do for the New York Bulletin. I remember your name headlining many articles on crime here in Hell’s Kitchen—a column my late friend Ben Urich used to call his home.  

It’s a shame that the paper was shut down. I tried to prevent it, but the disappearance of half of humanity and Wilson Fisk’s irreparable damage to the city’s foundation tied my hands. 

The token female journalist reporting on unsolicited beauty advice and lifestyle choices no one is going to follow in the days of social media and fake marketing. It must be frustrating, right? Not having a story to tell. Not getting recognized for your impeccable talent. The Bulletin gave you a platform, but Mr. Doherty and his goons took that away from you.

What I’m asking myself is, are you satisfied? You were probably imagining a different future for yourself. A woman of your caliber must want to be more than a mere object used to make a bottomless magazine look better on the market. 

Excuse my overstepping. I read one of your essays on the magical and the mythic—lore versus reality—the other day, and it inspired me. My life has been taking quite a few turns lately, so I required some new… let’s call it insight. 

You don’t know me, but I am one of those creatures you are fascinated by. I’m the kind of creature people have been telling you not to write about because the weak minds of the public would not receive it well. The Catholics, the church, the fragile and fearful human beings that can’t imagine anything in fiction being real and want to remain the superior species—trust me, I know what it feels like to be backed into a corner. To be abandoned. To be underestimated. Not quite like you, I admit, but I have a few years of experience in and with this world to show for myself. 

I imagine you’re tired of your position. I imagine you’re dissatisfied with human idiocy. You crave answers to your questions. Questions you have been asking yourself ever since college failed to answer them. My kind is being censored—partly for good reason—but that doesn’t sit right with you, does it? To live life in a monotone line with no clear way out of this boring rhythm you have had to fall into? 

I can offer you a different path. A story. Answers to your questions. And the unfiltered truth of a 242-year-old man. 

You are going to find a card with my address attached to this letter. I can assure you, sweetheart, we both want the same thing. I will wash your hands if you wash mine. Think about it, and come find me when you have made your decision. Preferably after the sun has set. 

Yours sincerely,

M.

The paper crumbles in your hands, but only at the corners. Your eyes are glued to the lost drops of ink, the blue blood of an old fountain pen caving under too much pressure. 

He chose his words carefully. Every paragraph circles around your head. You breathe in, and it suddenly feels as though the whiff of the unknown is an inhalable drug, twisting your brain inside out. 

The pull threatens to submerge you in a stormy ocean. You’re flailing your arms around helplessly, but there is nothing for you to hold onto. All buoys have drifted into oblivion, leaving a sea of utter emptiness behind, and in the midst of it, there you are, drowning.

In a moment of clarity, you fold the letter back down on the desk. It lands with a thud, and you look around frantically, checking if anyone is watching you. They aren’t. 

M. That’s all he’s giving you. And the fact he is over two hundred years old proves the rumors to be true. He’s standing by it, but only to you. He wants to reveal himself to you, show you his true face for a story, but he’s a vampire. 

You’re alone. You can wash his hands, but is just showing up enough for him? You don’t even know him. 

You’re in trouble. This time though, you didn’t even do anything. You did your job, and he caught an interest in you. How does that work? 

Your heart skips another beat. It should not, but it does. The danger is exciting. It shouldn't be exciting. You hate what your body is doing, but how can you make it stop? You can’t. You can’t do anything but take it.

This stranger has got you in a chokehold, but in his hands, you might as well surrender to your certain demise. You don’t consider vampires inherently evil, but there is a reason people warn you not to walk alone at night in Hell’s Kitchen. He’s dangerous, no matter his nature, and he is not supposed to lure you in the way he does.

But you’re a curious kitten, and he is offering you the holy grail of answers to questions you have been grappling with for years. He hit the nail right on the head. And it doesn’t even scare you how well he knows you. 

This is a gold mine. Realistically speaking, telling a vampire’s story could make or break your career as a journalist. If you do it for the magazine, you’re done before you can even bring your words to print, but if you do it individually and you do it well, people will certainly eat it up. The question is just, are you going to play your entire life safe, conforming to your boss’s view of you until you get the freedom you crave, or are you going to take the risk and fly? 

The answer is as clear as day, but it takes you a moment to process. It’s as though someone is in your head, steering you in the direction of whoever this M is. Daredevil. This vampire who wants you to interview him, and for what? That’s still an open question you don’t have the answer to. But you do know what to do.

You scramble for your laptop, your notepad, and the letter in the envelope. The clock strikes four. You have another two hours on the clock, but you can’t be bothered to stay. 

Upon hearing the sound of your shoes hurriedly scraping against the linoleum floors, one of your colleagues turns in her chair. “Where are you going?” she asks.

“I, uh, have somewhere to be,” you tell her as you brush past her.

“What, now?”

“Yeah. I forgot I had an appointment.”

“What about Mr. Doherty?”

You stop on your way out, looking back over your shoulder. “If everything works out,” you say, glancing through the window to his office at the other end of the hall, “He’ll have my letter of resignation by the end of the week.”

She gasps softly. “You’re quitting?” her voice is barely above a whisper.

Almost sinisterly, you chuckle. “That’s the plan, yeah.”

“But—”

“Tell your daughter Happy Birthday from me. I gotta go.”

Your steps echo for minutes still, but you are long gone with the wind.

Silver linings are considered an advantage that comes from an unpleasant situation. The name has proven to be entirely unfit for the magazine that replaced a big piece of Hell’s Kitchen’s history. The Bulletin had cultural value as much as it was laden with decades of the city’s stories told to the average person. 

Wilson Fisk was the dynamite that sent New York alight. The Bulletin’s destruction was mere collateral damage in the fight to get the city back on track. You have had so many reasons to leave presented to you, yet you never took them. If you had, maybe you wouldn’t be here, making bad decisions on what started as just another Monday in June. 

The fact is though, you didn’t leave, and you are here now. Facts are what matter. They count. Your hypothetical past, present, and future have no place in this reality because you can’t travel back or forward in time. Vampires may exist, and the Avengers time-traveled to save the world, but things aren’t quite as easy once you look at the bigger picture. You are not a superhero, you’re just a journalist chasing the kind of story that will finally make her voice be heard. 

You know that Ben Urich, at least, would be proud of you.

His address weighs heavy on the small card you pulled out of the envelope earlier that evening. You passed it on to the cab driver, and he began to navigate the dark streets of Hell’s Kitchen. The luxury condominiums in this part of the city can be counted on one hand. You know exactly when you’re there. 

The sun has once again set over New York City. You’re wide awake, not quite sure though if you’re ready to face what you are walking blindly into. Even your driver refuses to take you past a certain point, and that is how you know that you’re not dreaming. This is real, and it’s supposed to be terrifying. 

How come you’re not scared then?

You slip twenty dollars to the cab driver, then climb out of the backseat. The salty air from the Hudson River a few blocks down wafts around your sensitive nose. In the distance, you can hear waves crashing into the docks as the wind picks up in speed. The boats must be moving wildly by now, swaying from side to side and possibly even making the fish in the depths of the water seasick. You would be if you were them. 

With every step, you grow closer to your target. On second thought, maybe you should have brought more than just a pathetic bottle of pepper spray and your precious laptop. You could have brought your grandfather’s cassette recorder, at least that would leave a mark if you hit someone over the head with it. 

Do vampires get concussions? That is another question you can add to the seemingly endless list in your mind. It’s a confusing place as of late, and the weird sense that someone is playing with the controls won’t leave you alone. Either you are overthinking, or you are worse off than you originally thought. 

The apartment complex the card directs you to stretches high above you. You look up, seeing not a single light on. That’s odd, you think, but then again, you are meeting with the city’s most notorious man. If he is who everyone says he is, and if the rumors are even true, that is. 

As you are about to approach the entrance, your fingertips start to burn. A gasp escapes past your lips. Staring down, the cubical piece of paper goes up in flames. You are mere feet from the door, nowhere near close to an open source of fire, and the card starts to burn like a wildfire. 

You pull back, your heart hammering against your ribcage. The ashes fall to the ground, but before they can hit the asphalt, they vanish.

“What the–” before you can finish, the doors before you swing open toward the inside. The lights turn on. Someone even has called the elevator for you. 

Another step forward, and a voice stops you. “Fourth floor, down the hallway, first door to your right,” the voice says through the speaker. Only then do you notice the lack of a doorbell. 

Everything in you is screaming for you to run, but you are rooted in the spot. He dragged you here with a mere letter, and you were more than ready to jump. Desperation was the only thing that drove you here. Your brain seems incapable of rational thought.

What if that is what he wanted all along? To get you complicit by playing on what you so desperately need, which is a story and a way out of this boring everyday life that is threatening to slowly kill you.

He’s like a siren, luring you into his deadly trap, but even knowing all of this, you still can’t find it in yourself to run. 

The second you enter the building, the door shuts behind you, and your only way out is officially locked. You made the decision; you have dug your own grave, possibly quite literally, and now you have to lie in it. It’s better to die chasing a good story than dying at a desk in an office that doesn’t respect you.

You are a disgrace, you can hear your father’s voice in the back of your mind. He always warned you not to be too reckless or your bad decisions will eventually catch up with you. He always taught you not to trust strangers, and to stay the hell away from those who disgrace God, but you have never cared much about being a good girl. 

Your thoughts are as morbid as your obsession with the walking undead. It is time you embrace what people are already saying about you.

The elevator ride feels like an eternity. It goes up and up and up until it finally stops on the fourth floor. The walls smell like nothing but a faint hint of bleach. It’s clean, parquette not carpet, and the walls are kept in a shade resembling a mixture between crimson and maroon, and it is blending into a sort of marble.

The metal doors slide open. Again, you hesitate. A sweet whisper echoes in your ear, dragging you toward the edge. You breach the border between the elevator and the hallway that waits behind it. The voice is distant, and it doesn’t sound human—it reminds you of a siren’s song, calling for you. He is calling for you, and a fog settles over your mind. You’re not in control anymore, he is. 

You imagine him to be an old man, possibly middle-aged. Vampires stop aging when they’re turned. Their mind doesn’t. You’ve read the research plenty. They are wise beings, more intelligent than human beings could ever fathom. That makes them dangerous. 

Their venom rivals the intoxicating feeling of heroin, you’ve heard, and it heightens your senses to the point all you can feel is the one who bit you. Research suggests it’s a million times stronger than an orgasm, for both the vampire and the human being. 

Part of you has always wanted to try it. Part of you wants to know what it feels like to be sucked dry. You want to know what it feels like to be carried into a new dimension by someone who knows how to play the human body like a fucking piano, eliciting the sweetest melody through your very essence and the symphony of your moans.  

This M—Daredevil—is inherently dangerous. He’s as mysterious as they come; a man in a mask lurking in the dark corners of Hell’s Kitchen every night, turning the fight for justice into his hunting ground. 

It’s as though he curled his fingers, and you followed. 

You walk the dark hallway down to the door on the right. Paintings litter the walls. Masterpieces, blotches of white, red, and color. You recognize the red marble as a decorative theme on the wallpaper. Tracing your fingers over it, the rough drywall scratches at your skin. 

You reach out a shaky hand toward the golden knob. Before you can turn it though, the door already flings open. It must be witchcraft. 

Red appears to be his favorite color. At least judging from the hallway, that is true. When you step into the room with a pounding heart and blood pooling in your cheeks though, the inside of the room is a lot more… human. You wouldn’t have guessed it from the gloominess surrounding you on your way there.

A leather couch and armchairs stand in the middle, facing toward the window front. Colored windows, as you have gathered from the rumors. They are see-through now though, showing the city skyline and the moon up high. The chandelier on the ceiling is the only piece of furniture you would consider old. Browns meet hues of blue and dark green, a forest at midnight, and you suck in a sharp breath. The apartment is beautiful. 

You look to your left and see a bookshelf stretching the length of the wall. You can’t help but run your hand over the backs. You would have expected original editions from the 18th or 19th century, but when your fingers trace over the bindings, you are met with the bulging of Braille underneath the elegant golden writing of the titles. None of them seem to have collected dust. It surprises you to only find a mere handful of classics that haven’t been transcribed in Braille and a realization you did not expect starts to crawl its way forward.

“I stole that one from a library in Paris.”

Your racing heart stops beating. The book you’ve been holding falls to the ground, its worn-out leather cracking further around the spine. The thud is deafening. You gasp, turning around. Your shoulders fly up as the tension ripples through every last muscle in your bone. Your bones ache just from how stiff you’re standing, but you can’t move.

The man before you moves as quietly as a mouse. You didn’t hear him coming. The moonlight reflects off his dark brown hair, making it appear almost ginger. He’s wearing a simple suit without a tie, and the white of his shirt is as pristine and clean as the cut of his beard. You can see chest hair poking out from underneath the two open buttons, as dark as the locks on his head. His jawline is irresistibly sharp, leading up to a pair of plump lips he is wrapping around the brim of a crystal glass filled with rum.

Your heart remains frozen. Not a single drop of blood pumps through your veins, yet your cheeks burn brighter than a bonfire on a pitch-black night. 

But his flawless appearance is not what catches your attention the most. Looking up into his eyes, wanting to know whether they are as red as those set into the devil’s mask, you find nothing but your terrified reflection staring back at you. It’s as blurry as the picture of your face in a still ocean’s water, your wide eyes staring back at yourself. 

The red glasses are all you can see. Round with a black rim. Silver would have looked better on him, or maybe even gold. The black reminds you of an endless pit, a sinister embrace of vampire stereotypes, but you can’t look away from the maroon that won’t allow you even a glimpse into his eyes. They are shielding him from the world, and his eyes from curious, stupid humans like you.

He nods toward the ground. “You gonna pick that up?” he asks. His voice reminds you of rumbling gravel. 

He looks like a man. He talks like a man. If you didn’t know better, you would say he is human. There seems to be blood in his cheeks and air in his lungs. 

You have to pull yourself together. Clearing your throat, you bend down and pick the book back up.

“Thank you,” he utters your name. “It’s been a while since I’ve received visitors that don’t work for me.”

You put the book back on the shelf. Your lips are sewn shut; you can’t find the words. Every time you open your mouth like a fish on dry land, you close it again, and it is embarrassing to be standing in front of him with your guard down. 

“Welcome to my home,” he says. You wish you could see his eyes to know if he’s mocking you. “Do you want a drink, or do you need another minute to process?”

He is mocking you. His tone is gentle, as is his voice, but he smirks like a smug motherfucker, and your anger boils to a tipping point. The candle is about to burn out. 

“I–” you stammer. Internally, you curse yourself for being such a fool. 

“Another minute it is then.”

You don’t need a minute though. “You’re blind,” you blurt out. 

The beautiful—deadly—stranger nods. “Yeah.“

“How?”

“Accident when I was a kid.”

“But you’re…” you leave the missing part of that sentence hanging in the air like a noose. 

“Say it,” he murmurs. You want to say it sounds like a growl, but you’re not sure. He isn’t asserting dominance or trying to force you into submission by scaring you away, but he is toying with you regardless. 

You take a deep breath. The word, the truth, numbers your tongue and your lips with its weight. “A vampire,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, matching his. 

His smirk broadens. He pushes his tongue against the inside of his cheek for a moment, then releases it as it darts out to wet his bottom lip. “I’m a blind vampire, yes,” he answers. “We’re rare, but we do exist.”

Blind vampires. In all of your years of fascination, that has never crossed your mind. You used to believe that they had healing abilities that far exceeded your own. You were wrong. He lost his eyesight before he got turned into a vampire. He lived as a blind human being and didn’t regain his most crucial sense when he died. 

He came back to life, but he died. It is surreal to stand across from him. He’s not just letters on a piece of paper, he is very much real. And he’s blind. 

“Oh, my God,” you curse.

That elicits a soft chuckle from him. “I was starting to think you wouldn’t come,” he says. 

“I was considering not to.” 

He sees right through you with those empty glasses. “That’s a lie.”

“How would you know?” you counter. 

“I can hear your heartbeat. The blood pumping in your veins…” His head tilts ever so slightly in your direction. You take a step back. It’s an instinct. “Your pulse picks up when you lie, or when you’re nervous, or both,” he states. “When you first saw me, your heart skipped a beat. It did again when you lied to me.”

Your eyes trail down to his thick thighs perfectly fitted in his tailored trousers. His thick digits pat the rhythm with his fingers on the fabric. Thud-thudthudthud-thud. You place a hand on your chest. He wasn’t wrong; your heart is racing. 

His smirk turns into a smile, but only briefly again. It’s a glimpse of humanity he doesn’t want you to see. “I like that sound,” he says. “Has anyone ever told you that you smell good? Sweet, sour, and a little salty. Natural. You don’t use a lot of artificial perfume, but you like cherry chapstick.”

You swallow, taking a whiff of your arm. Besides your deodorant masking the scent of your nervous sweat, you smell nothing. How good must his nose be? His hearing? His sense of taste? 

“Right now, sweat is dripping down your back, and your muscles are tense enough to strain against your bones every time you breathe. Your heart just skipped a beat again. You find it weird,” he muses. “I can’t turn it off, but I get it must be strange for you.” 

“You–” The blood has collected in your head, pushing the temperature in the room to an all-time high. “Get out of my body!” you snap. 

He laughs. “That’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear.”

“And I never thought you would ask for an audience with me, but here we are.”

“Here you are.” 

You want nothing more than to wipe that smirk off his face. He looks so smug, standing there with his drink, wearing a suit too fancy for his own home. He’s fully in his element. It’s scary how alluring he is, too. You don’t want to think that way, but as soon as your eyes gaze upon him again, your chest contracts, and you forget how to breathe. 

He’s a wolf, and you’re a lonely little sheep that doesn’t know any better. That lonely little sheep just wants to be a part of something bigger, even if that means surrendering herself to the big bad wolf. He wants a taste of her, and the sheep would give him that in a heartbeat if he just asked. 

You blink. There is a voice in your head, and it isn’t your own. Far from it. You don’t want to be associated with this stranger. She thinks she knows you. She thinks she knows what you want—the sheep in the eyes of her natural enemy. This voice is the most irrational you could be, and you need to stop letting her win.

And yet you—not just the voice of the lonely sheep you appear to be—would follow this man anywhere, even to hell if he asked you to. 

Your eyes drill knives into his skull, but they are also full of curiosity. Can he hear your thoughts? Your heart beats in your throat. You can taste it on your tongue. If you bit your lip, you would bleed, and he would probably fall into a frenzy. Still, your teeth dig into your bottom lip. What if he can hear your thoughts—hear how fucking needy you are? You’re pathetic. What he must think of you, standing across from him, smaller than human life itself. 

You want to read him, but he is far from an open book. He’s not Braille you can run your fingers over, and even if he was, you don’t know how to read it. He’s an enigma. His face is set in stone; an iron mask you can’t penetrate. 

His chest heaves with another chuckle. He sets the crystal glass down on the coffee table, taking a step forward. “No, I can’t read your mind,” he says. 

You flinch. “What?”

“Your breathing pattern. The way you look at me. I can sense that you’re thinking about something.” He adjusts his glasses. “It’s just… Most humans ask me if I can read their minds, you know. I can’t. Some vampires can, but my senses are the only heightened ability I have.” This time, when he chuckles, a hint of bitterness dances in his voice. 

“At least you’re not in my head then,” you say. 

“No.”

“Good.”

A pregnant pause follows. You clutch your bag to your chest, your fingers digging into the frame of your hidden laptop. 

“Can I offer you a drink?” he asks, pointing to his empty glass.

You wave him off. That’s the last thing on your mind. “No, thank you.”

Sometimes at night, you fantasize about diving into the abyss of darkness. It looks and sounds a terrifying lot like him. You want to know him. You need to know him. When it comes to him and this—whatever this is—the lines between want and need are blurring into an unidentifiable mess. It’s an ocean of emotions with no land in sight. A total eclipse of the heart, if you will. You’re losing your mind.

“What you can do–” You straighten your shoulder, hoping it will add height to your beaten confidence. “You can tell me your name. Sir,” you say. 

He nods. “I suppose it would only be fair, wouldn’t it?”

“Yes, it would.”

“Matthew. My name’s Matthew.” The softness of his features as his lips move to the rhythm of his words takes you back anew. His eyebrows raise slightly, and you catch a glimpse of a pair of beautiful, unfocused hazel eyes that steal your breath away. 

Matthew. It is a name that easily rolls off the tongue. It suits him.

You repeat his name aloud. “That’s an odd name for a 200-something-year-old man,” you point out. 

Matthew scoffs. “My parents were both Catholic.”

“I suppose you’re not?”

You hit a sore spot. His head dips, fingers running over his nails and tongue tracing his teeth. “Not anymore,” he says.

God died for him a long time ago, and all churches burned down.

Your grip on your bag loosens. “Then why Daredevil?” you ask. 

His lips part. “I, uh, have the Bulletin to thank for that one. After centuries of existing in this world, and being despised for no matter what I do, I’ve decided to embrace it. I am Daredevil, not even God can stop that now.”

Matt grabs his glass, turning away from you. He doesn’t use a cane to navigate from the couch to the mini bar on the other end of the room. You carefully follow his movements. One of his hands remains at his side, snapping his fingers as he navigates the familiar terrain of his home. 

He uncaps a half-empty bottle of Whiskey to pour himself another glass. 

“You know, Matthew,” you prompt, daring to step forward an inch, “as big as your reputation is in this part of the city, Silver Lining is not the kind of magazine that would cover your story.”

“You still came,” he says. 

“I could lose my job if anyone knew I came here.”

“And yet you’re here and not where you should be.” He turns his head over his shoulder. “You wouldn’t risk losing your job if it wasn’t important to you, would you?”

You stammer, “I–” He’s got you. You’re a fish with a hook in her mouth. 

“If Silver Lining Magazine won’t cover my story, why are you here?” Matt turns back to you, leaning back against the shiny Mahagoni of his minibar. It offers a beautiful contrast to his strong physique and the slight paleness of his skin. “Could it be because you’re fascinated by the mythic?” he asks, teasing. “By werewolves and witches and vampires?”

It’s your turn to scoff. “I won’t confirm or deny. My boss wouldn’t let me write a vampire vigilante exposé even if I begged him to.”

“And that’s why Mr. Doherty doesn’t deserve you.” Your body visibly recoils when he pushes forward, moving just an inch toward you. “Your curiosity is a virtue,” he purrs. The moonlight sets your reflection in his glasses alight. 

“Is that why you lured me here?” you ask him. “Because my curiosity is a virtue and you consider yourself better than the people in my life?”

“I didn’t lure you here, and I think you know that. That’s not what this is.” The distance between you starts to shrink, backing you into a corner. “I believe you came here because the thought of interviewing a vampire and sharing your findings with the world on your account excites you,” he says. “You want to be heard. You want to be taken seriously as a journalist, and you want to make people happy.”

The only way for you to come out of this with your pride and dignity still intact is to put up walls before the already existent labyrinth of walls keeping your heart guarded and your soul safe. “Again,” you ask, “why me?”

“Why not you? As I stated in my letter, I’m a fan of your work.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, about that. How did you write that if you’re blind?”

“I didn’t, my secretary did.”

“Of course.” Of course, he has a secretary. “I… I just don’t get it,” you say. “You’ve been hiding for so long–” 

Matt cuts you off with an urgency you didn’t expect, “Things have changed. Circumstances…” he trails off. 

“Wouldn’t it be a suicide mission?” 

His answer is silence. You let out an exasperated sigh. “If you want me to interview you, you have to be honest with me.”

“I’m not on the record yet.”

“Right. Maybe you can answer this though—off the record, of course—how can you be certain I didn’t call the cops or the FBI before I came here?”

His eyes crinkle. “I’m not stupid, sweetheart,” he says. 

He’s amused. You’re amusing him. 

“Don’t call me that,” you growl. 

He’s spreading you open, holding up a mirror for you to look into. It’s your miserable self in all its glory, and he knows you better than you know yourself. 

You ignore the sharp pain in your left ribcage as you pull the arrow out of your heart. “Unless someone holds up a sign that they are pro-vampirism, how would you even know I’d listen to you and not just refer you to the Journal of Psychiatry?” 

“Are you telling me you don’t believe in vampires?” Matt quips.

“That’s not… Answer my question!”

The sound of your heartbeat must sound almost like the rapid firing of a machine gun, that’s how fast your pulse is racing. Your veins threaten to burst with the excess blood. It’s a heat like no other. You’re a witch at the stake, and Matt is holding the torch to your gasoline-doused body. 

He clears his throat. Your face falls at the words that tumble out of his parted lips, and the rapid firing turns into a deafening silence and a monotone line on a heart monitor. 

“After what I’ve learned from reading Dr. Rice’s research on the phenomena of vampirism, I can confidently say this species is no different than an animal like the great white shark or the Homo sapiens sapiens—our kind,” he recites. “Vampires are a medium of fiction and propaganda to induce fear, but they are also a widely misunderstood species that is being silenced rather than heard. Our species, the human species, likes to consider themselves superior, even when we’re in a position of being someone’s natural food source. Dr. Rice’s research is based on a comprehensible set of facts, and isn’t that what we have been relying on ever since the beginning? Our psychology makes it possible for us to change the narrative in our favor, and more often than not, we ignore the very facts deemed by humans as an intellectual importance to spread the message of an entirely different agenda. Dr. Rice’s research only proves that egotism and humans themselves will be humankind's certain downfall.”

“My investigative journalism essay,” you breathe out. 

“Published by Columbia University.” 

Your heart restarts with a rush of adrenaline. “How… how do you know all of this?”

“I may be blind,” Matt says, “but I know how to read between the lines.”

“That doesn’t answer my question.”

The alcohol in his drink seems to have little effect on him. “I know you have questions, and I’m willing to answer them if you promise to publish a detailed report somewhere other than Silver Lining Magazine.”

You look down at your bag, then back at him. “Ben Urich could have told your story in a way that would’ve made people listen,” you murmur. “I don’t have an impressive career like him.”

“Yeah,” he smiles, “but you could have easily written ‘Attack on NYC’. Ben was a good man, an even better journalist, but he could not have written your college essay. And he could never have been you.” 

Your name rolls off his tongue—not a pretentious nickname that makes you want to vomit but your name, and it flicks a switch within you. 

You glance around the spacious living, pulling your laptop out of its confines, and you bridge the distance between you, finally. You notice he smells of sandalwood cologne and scentless soap. “Okay,” you cave. “Where do you want me to set up?”

Session 1.

The spacebar clicks underneath the tip of your index finger. The white of your screen fills with a series of red sequences as the microphone takes in every little sound around you. Except for the two of you and the fading footsteps of one of Matthew’s assistants though, the world has fallen silent in the dead of the night. He’s sitting across from you, legs crossed, head tilted; your life is about to change.

“So, Mister Murdock,” you begin, “tell me. How long have you been dead?” 

His mouth opens in a wide grin. “242 years,” he answers. 

“And what happened the year you died?”

“Well, it was 1782. I was a good few years out of law school. I was a good lawyer, but I wasn’t successful. That year, I met a beautiful woman at a banquet. I wasn’t rich—trust me, I was beyond penniless—but she had been adopted into a wealthy family, and that made her one of the richest women in the room. Everyone wanted her, but when I sensed her across the hall, she only had eyes for me. And she was the first woman to not see me just because I was blind.” He chuckles sadly. “I thought she was the woman of my dreams, the love of my life, but a few weeks later, after letting her into my life, I realized that she didn’t look at me that night because she was interested. She was hunting me. El— Miss Elektra Natchios…”

The year 1782 becomes apparent before your inner eye. As he tells you about the night he met her, you can see the dark-haired beauty making her way across the ballroom. Red lips and a gown to die for. Her dark eyes were full of mischief, but the passion in them could have knocked a grown man off of his feet. And that is just what she did to poor Matthew. 

“I was going to marry her,” he tells you.

He went to church regularly. His knees were bloody from praying, his senses already heightened before he died. God’s soldier, that is how he puts it. He was told that the accident that left him blind happened for a reason, and he had to fight a war that went beyond the country’s fight for independence. 

That summer, Elektra drained him. He didn’t know what she was. She fooled him. He was obsessed with her. Her dark eyes he couldn’t see lured her in, and it was the venom in her blood that became his downfall after she dug her teeth into him.

Matt tried to beg his priest for forgiveness, but he didn’t even make it past the marble stairs before the doors locked. He knelt in a pool of blood—both his and that of the first human he ever sucked dry to survive as a newborn vampire—offering an eternal sacrifice to Catholicism, but God abandoned him on his doorstep. 

The church walls would have been set on fire if he had touched them from the inside. 

You look up from your notepad to find him now standing at the window. He’s not looking out, of course, but he seems so deep in thought, the memories that aren’t your own but his start to dissipate, and you’re brought back to the here and now.

Matt poured his heart out to you. You expected answers, but not this kind, and certainly not of this magnitude. You see him in an entirely different light. He’s vulnerable, fragile, and human. He has endured trauma that killed him, but he couldn’t die because the woman he loved made him immortal. It’s a bigger curse than growing up with the belief that an accident made you God’s soldier. 

He lost everything. For centuries, he has had to live with that. It’s killing you, feeling his pain, the pure agony that radiates off him. 

Your voice is quiet when you ask him, “What was it like?” You don’t have to say it out loud for him to know what you are referencing.

Matt chuckles, the sound a mere breath in the atmosphere. “Like she took my soul from my body, setting fire to my belief system and already heightened senses,” he says. 

You swallow. “That sounds… overstimulating.”

“It was. Is. My heart stopped, but when that happened, something else awoke inside me. The hunger… the hunger was the worst part. It’s insatiable. One hour passes, and you feel like you’ve been starving for weeks.”

“Like you’ve been possessed by a demon?”

“Like I am the demon.”

“But you’re not.” You should stop the recording. You’re not on track; you’re incorporating your feelings into Matt’s story, but you can’t help it. The words tumble out of your mouth without a second thought, a train that cannot be stopped. 

He raises his eyebrows, you can see it in his reflection in the windows. “Are you religious?” he asks.

You shake your head. “This isn’t about me.”

“Are you?”

The veins on the back of his hands bulge as he balls them to fists at his sides. Your throat is a desert, and your heartbeat resembles a storm that burns right through it, sending the sand flying in all directions of the horizon.

You adjust in your seat, crossing one leg over the other. He takes a whiff. He’s smelling you, and that doesn’t help the speed of your pulse to calm down. 

Tapping your pen on your notepad, you watch the red sequences fill the white space of the recording program. It moves with the sound of your voice when you finally dare to answer. “It’s a complicated question because there is a difference between believing in God and believing in the church,” you say.

“Do you believe in God then?” Matt asks. It’s as though he’s trying not to seethe at the mere mention of someone he used to worship. You make a note of that.

“There is so much bad in this world. So much cruelty. I can’t…” You take a deep breath. “I don’t know how to believe in a God that would let the things humans do to each other happen. If God existed—if he was as merciful as Christians like to claim, he wouldn’t let this happen. And I’m so sick and tired of people using their faith, and their beliefs in God and the church as justification to be disrespectful. I don’t understand it. How can anyone? Why is someone who has to drink blood to stay alive—someone who didn’t even choose this life—worth less and the devil’s breed when humans do worse things to each other? Why would God allow us to start wars that kill innocent people? Children? It’s just not fair that we treat ourselves and others as though we are already in hell, and we’re just supposed to accept that God doesn’t care—” You stop yourself, the tears burning behind your eyes. 

Matt turns back around. You can’t look away. “When I was still human,” he murmurs, “I used to believe everything that happened to me was God’s will. The accident, God’s will. Me going blind, God’s will. I went to confession, prayed until my knees were bloody and bruised. I tried convincing myself that every scream I heard from down the block, every person who lost their life or their innocence was my responsibility. God made me this way for a reason, right?” The scoff is as bitter as the liquor in his glass. “I fell apart, you know. I was a kid, so I didn’t understand. I didn’t understand what was happening to me,” he tells you. 

You hold your breath. The glasses slip from his eyes as he takes them off with shaky fingers. You are met with the most beautiful pair of hazel eyes. Emotions dance a heated tango in a tornado. If you look closer, the green specks bring life to his eyes. It’s human nature in the purest sense of the word. 

Your reflection stands in his irises, his unmoving pupils, and the tears glisten in his eyes. They’re as red as blood, watered-down crimson essence. You want to reach out and stroke his cheek, but that would be crossing a very big line that you can’t bring yourself up to touch. 

“I studied law because I thought it would change something,” he continues. You listen. It’s the only thing you can do—listen. “It wasn’t enough. Nothing I ever did felt like it was enough. I lost my father. Jack. I didn’t know my mother until it was too late. Maggie. I had no one. No money, no prospects, just me and those voices in my head, telling me I was supposed to be God’s soldier.”

“You’re not,” you cut in. 

He shakes his head. “I prayed; I crawled up the stairs of the church, and I spent hours repenting for my sins. I bled myself dry for Him. I sacrificed myself. I sacrificed my youth, my heart, and my soul, and I got nothing back. I begged for help until my voice was sore, but nothing… God, nothing was ever good enough. Until Elektra came around,” he says. 

“She changed everything for you. It makes sense. She turned you into a vampire, but she also loved you.”

“She did love me, in her own twisted way.”

“It’s what you deserved,” you say.

He isn’t yours, but the pang you feel in your chest is treacherous. Your heart cracks like a porcelain vase, jealousy creeping in like a parasite of toxic waste.

In response, Matt only chuckles bitterly. “She made me believe again, then took my soul and crushed it in her hand.” The correction makes your shoulders slump. “Instead of feeling like my world ended though, I felt at peace when she sucked the blood out of my veins and fed me her venom,” he says. “It’s sick, I know. I was aware I died that night, that she turned me into a devil who could only survive if he drank the blood of others. The Catholic in me struggled to accept it, but I had no choice but to embrace what she made me.”

“And where is she now?” you ask.

“Gone.” The light in his eyes has fully disappeared now. “I stayed with her for a while until she died in my arms. She showed me what love is, and she showed me heartbreak. She made me hungry for blood, awakening the devil I’ve been trying to tame. She taught me how to feed, how to hunt, and how to chase. But she also cursed me,” he says. “I only exist for myself now. I only bleed for myself. No God, no church, and no more religion. I’m not Jesus, I’m Judas, and I retired the cross the day I was crucified.”

You have run out of questions to ask. Too overwhelming is the sight of his walls crumbling down, this stranger you now know better than any living being seems to. You no longer see money in this, or a story to chase, you only see Matthew, and the halo above his head he still believes is a pair of horns. The world broke him. His faith in God broke him. It crushed him, and he lost everything. How broken he must be. 

“Not such a pretty story when I say it out loud, huh?” He scoffs.

The spacebar clicks again. The recording comes to a sudden halt. One hour and fifty-eight minutes, the first session of your interview with the vampire. You need to put a halt to it now because what you are about to say or do as you reach your hand out to brush his cold, dead skin is not something that should be found on a record. And you won’t ever tell.

Matt pulls away when your warm fingertips brush his. You’re standing across from him now, so close he can smell, hear, and feel all of you at once.

Your touch is the holy water that burns his skin, but the fire sustains him and shoots straight to his core the same way the blood rushes to yours.

“It’s not a pretty story, no,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper, “but it did tell me what I already knew.”

“And what’s that?” he asks.

“That you’re not evil. You’re not the Devil. You’re misunderstood. You’ve been beaten; you’ve been abandoned, hurt, and broken. That doesn’t make you a monster. Trying to make this city a better place does not make you a monster.”

“If you only knew the things I’ve done…”

“I know the rumors suggest that you were the one who fought Wilson Fisk and got this city back where it needed to be. You’ve saved countless women from the worst of fates. You are the reason the innocent people of Hell’s Kitchen feel safe. By picking up that mask, you became a hero, not a villain, and that is the story I want to tell.”

In lightspeed, he has moved you from the window to the other end of the room. Your back hits the wall. 

Matt towers over you in all of his intimidating glory. His eyes spark red, but you hold his unfocused gaze. He has such beautiful eyes. This pull between you is far from human; it’s unhealthy, and it is exactly where he wanted to get you. You’re trapped, pinned underneath him like a deer caught in headlights. 

Exhaling, your breath strokes his cheeks. He closes his eyes, savoring the taste of you. Every particle in the air, he inhales. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. Oh, what you wouldn’t do to suck that tongue into your mouth. 

Your pheromones play his head like a puppeteer pulling the strings of his marionette. He growls. “Do you have any idea how dangerous I am?” 

The moonlight catches his sparkling white teeth. This time though, you come face to face with the sharp edges of his previously concealed fangs. Your jaw drops open. He’s ethereal. 

“I could snap your neck—” Matt places his hand on your neck, “I could make that heart stop beating, take the air from your lungs. I could eat you…” He traces the vein in your throat from your jaw to your collarbone. “I could bite you and suck your blood until you’re empty. I could kill you, sweetheart. My kind is your natural enemy. You shouldn’t be here.”

You shudder. His nose brushes the sensitive skin below your ear. He’s so close you can smell him. On inhale, and his scent consumes your senses. He is all you can feel now. You reach out to hold onto his arms, his muscles tensing under your teeth. He’s big and strong, and those hands have a mind of their own as they begin to wander but never where you need him most. 

You shouldn’t be here, yet you came. He asked you to him, and you complied. Is this your fate now? Chasing after your big bad wolf like the helpless sheep that you are?

Your walls clench around an agonizing emptiness, your swollen clit brushing against your soaked underwear. Whatever he is doing to you, it’s the cruelest form of torture. 

A strangled noise breaks out of the back of his throat, rumbling in his chest. “You have no idea how badly I want to taste you,” he breathes. 

“Do it,” you beg. “Taste me.”

He utters your name again. “Stop.”

“Please.”

Your tone shatters him. When he kisses you, finally, fireworks explode in the universe around you. All the stars seem to finally align. Your heart opens, and it sucks him right into you. Your soul yearns for him. He’s so close yet so far away. 

The moon stands between you, but you cross even that ocean as you push against him, forcing your tongue into his mouth. He takes like heaven and hell; he’s the apple Eve bit into and cursed her for all eternity. But he’s also the snake, the one who compelled you to take this journey of bad decisions and jump right off the cliff’s edge. You melt into him like a broken candle. 

He pulls away. Those fangs are alluring, as sharp as a knife’s tip. You want to know what it would feel like gracing your skin, digging into your as he thrusts his cock into your tight cunt. The thought alone sends your mind into a spiral.

Your lips are swollen, but he has yet to draw blood. Matt looks as though he wouldn’t dare, his eyes darting around in a darkened conflict he feels might cost him more than your dignity. You are begging for it, as is your body, but he’s holding himself back. He’s the one who tied himself to an invisible pillar, keeping his hands locked behind his back. But that is not the Matt you want. 

You lean your head to the side, exposing the length of his neck. All control has slipped from your fingers. It’s in his hands now—you are. He cups your head gently. A mere few inches lie between your fountain and his lips.

You press a kiss to his calloused palm—a desperate and needy kiss, tracing your tongue over the lines that tell his life’s story in a way no interview can retell—and it is then he is forever done for. He’s doomed, and you are the second woman to pull him under the pits of hell. 

Saliva drips from his fangs. You hold your breath. He hisses, a weak admission of surrender; the words die miserably on your tongue when his lips close around your pulse point with all his might, and his teeth drive home. 

You moan aloud. Your fingers tangle in his hair, forcing him deeper as he sucks the dark red essence out of your vein. The sensation is more than you bargained for. It’s a drug that wrecks your system. The synapses in your brain backfire with all their might, and what follows the initial explosion of pleasure shooting white hot through your being is complete and utter silence as this God of a man feeds on you. 

The invisible string between you glows a bright crimson. It slings around you, tying you together like the roots of a tree. It’s an eternal sacrifice. You are giving your all to him, the very core of your existence that is now flowing into his mouth. You swear you can hear his thoughts mingle with yours. Yes, more, please. You taste so good. Your knees buckle, but you remain standing strong. He makes sure you don’t fall. Don’t slip away from me. I need you. 

A tear rolls down your cheek. You could sob. It feels so good—too good to be true. In that moment, you become one. There is no telling where one begins and the other ends. The coil in your stomach tightens, and the only pain you feel is the pleasure threatening to overwhelm you. He’s taking everything as you give him everything, but it is not enough. It has never been enough. 

When your body struggles to catch up with the lack of blood, he pulls away. His fangs drag out of your neck agonizingly slowly. You whimper at the sudden loss.

Matt catches you as you stumble into his arms. “You okay?” He cradles your face, brushing the hair out of your face. Your blood stains his lips. Blinking up at him, the force of your metaphysical connection slaps you awake. 

You cease to exist in all solar systems but his. 

He pokes the tip of his index finger with the sharp edge of one tooth, sliding it over the two holes that are pulsating with the work of your heartbeat.

“I shouldn’t have—” he begins. 

“No,” you say. “You did exactly what you should have.”

“I couldn’t stop.”

“But you did.” You wipe the blood from his mouth. “And I felt you. I only felt you.”

The living room passes by you. Before you know it, your back lands on something much softer than a concrete wall. He’s not a monster, that one, but he surely is an animal. 

You taste your blood on Matt’s luscious lips as he devours your tongue. It tastes of copper and a little bitter, but that is what makes him moan. That sound is the last thing you could ever grow tired of. 

His palm rests on your chest. Your heart pounds against his palm. “You’re so alive,” he says.

You cradle his face in your hands. “And you’re more human than you think.”

If he wanted to pull your heart out and hold it, you would let him in a heartbeat. 

He leans you back. He strips you bare. He kisses down your body like you are a fucking masterpiece for him to explore. That is how he sees you. 

Your head falls back. The kisses wander from your hips to the inside of your thighs. Every kiss brings his breath closer to your center. Matt pulls them apart. He opens you up to him. Your scent clouds his senses, and he groans, but he doesn’t touch. 

His fangs graze your skin. “Mine,” he growls. 

You gasp. He bites into the sensitive flesh. Hard, passionately. Your legs wrap around his head, trapping him there. He sucks, and he sucks, and he drinks, and the wetness pools out of your cunt in an obscene amount. This is foreplay to him. It drives you toward the edge leading to an abyss you are afraid you might never be able to crawl back out of. There is no bottom, it is just a pit, and he’s pushing you closer and closer, and—

Your back arches, but he pulls away before the coil can snap into a million butterflies. He pries your legs away from his head, spreading them further on the mattress, as far apart as they will go. 

Breakfast, lunch, and dinner have been served on a silver platter. He breathes in. The scent of your soaked pussy sticks to the hairs in his nose. It isn’t enough. He breathes in again, your arousal sweeter than fiction. You’re everything and more. He wants to taste that part of you more than anything, suck up the slick that is soaking the sheets—and you didn’t even think that was possible—but he waits because he needs to savor it. He doesn’t want it to be over too soon. neither for him nor for you. 

The blood is still dripping from his tongue and his fangs, and the raw inside of your thigh. He runs his finger through it. The sting runs from the wound to your folds, then back down. Still, he doesn’t touch. He plays with the blood, sucking on his fingers until they’re clean, and then he dives back in for a taste. He doesn’t bite, he kisses and sucks, but he doesn’t push it further. He doesn’t hurt you. 

You’re his saving grace; he has to worship you. Pain only has a place in pleasure. 

“Matthew,” you moan. 

He chuckles, kissing where his fangs left deep indentations. “No one will ever touch you again,” he purrs. “I’ll make sure of that.” 

You try to protest, but the words die on your tongue when he leans in, capturing your clit with his hungry mouth. The wound on your thigh closes. The blood from his lips mixes with your juices, and you cry out at the intensity of it all. 

He eats you with the ferocity of a man starved for weeks. He eats your pussy like he ate your blood, savoring every drop but still feasting for the taste to spread out in his mouth like wildfire. Sour, sweet, and copper. He sucks your sensitive clit into his mouth. His tongue drags through your folds, up and down, and then the tip slides inside, tasting your walls. He grows bolder as your moans accelerate. 

Matt cradles your thighs. He forces your hips back down to the mattress, stronger than the average human man. You have to endure his beard scratching and burning, and the pace he has set.

The orgasm creeps up on you. Before you know it, he has plunged his tongue into you, and your body convulses around him. You scream into a pillow as you come. 

You are each other’s forbidden fruit. No prayer in the world could keep you apart. 

Faintly, you can hear him say, “Good girl.” Your legs quiver. He pulls away, then comes right back like a boomerang. 

He’s warm now. He was cold before, but when he kisses you this time, he’s warm. He’s hot. You run your hands over his bare chest, the scars that lie under the dark strands of hair. You tug at it, and he moans. You can tell he is a little insecure, but by pressing your lips to one of the cuts on his shoulder, he relaxes. 

What he must have endured, what he must have lived through before he died and was resurrected in the same breath, just without a beating heart—you don’t want to think about it or you will break, but you can still feel him through the crimson tie that holds you together, and you know that he has suffered enough for more than two lifetimes. You wish you could take it all away from him. You wish you could have saved him before it was too late, loved him more than the woman who turned him, but turning back time is an impossibility. You are both acutely aware of that. 

“Hey.” Matt tilts your head toward him. “Where did you just go?” he asks. 

“Thinking about you,” you murmur. 

“Me?”

“You.”

“Why?”

“Because I want to be your salvation.”

You. His salvation. He kisses you, softly this time. He pours gratitude into his lips and bleeds them out in poetry as they slide into your mouth, and you swallow every last drop. 

If someone had told you a week ago where you would see yourself on that particular Monday, you would have laughed at them. And if someone had told you a week ago that you would be making love to the devil, you would have called them crazy. But it’s happening. 

He thrusts into you without a warning. His thick cock fills you like nothing and no one ever has before. Your cunt has been molded to fit him, you’re sure. You take him in, and you moan at the stretch. It’s a pain so delicious you could fall apart right then and there just from the feel of him inside you. 

Every thrust drags the tip of his cock along your sweet spot. Every added sensation drives you closer to your death. 

Your body tingles. He explores your face with his lips rather than his fingers, moving to your neck again. You cling to him, oh-so-desperate for him. He likes you like that, and you like him like that. 

“You’re fucking with my head,” he tells you. “Offering your pussy to a vampire. Letting me drink your blood. Begging me to fuck you. You’re in my head, baby. Can’t get you out of my system. Fuck.”

You are his downfall, his salvation, but he is all of those things to you as well—all of those things and more. If he could read your mind, you would tell him that. Words can’t do justice to how you feel. Not right now, maybe not ever. 

“Bite me again,” you beg.

His thrusts falter. He searches your body for any sign of regret. His fangs come out, and he buries them deep in your jugular vein. The floodgates open wide. Your walls clench around his cock, your clit pulsates, and the wave crashes into you. 

You come as he devours your neck and your blood. You transcend into another dimension, far away from everything and everyone but never him. Never Matthew.

The sensation of you wraps around him like a weighted blanket. His balls tighten, your blood unfolding its taste on his tongue. You are all over him, inside of him, everywhere at once. He falls head-first, dragging you down with him. 

He comes with a shout that is only muffled through his teeth buried in your flesh, his cum spurting into you and filling your cunt to the brim. Your eyes roll back. You’re flying and falling all at once. 

Oh, how good it feels to be consumed by him. To be fucked and sucked dry. You would have never expected this to come out of your week, let alone your life, but now that it has happened, you are floating on cloud nine. 

Dizziness threatens to take over, but before you can pass out, he forces himself away, allowing your heart to catch up with the lack of blood in your system. He collapses on top of you. His cock softens, but he stays inside. You need him there. You want him there. And that is the only place he wants to rest tonight. 

He heals the wounds on your neck. “You have a mark,” Matt rasps, tracing your skin with his finger. 

You choke out, “Yours.”

“Yes, you are.” He kisses you there. Once, twice, even a third time. “Mine,” he says.

You’re his. He’s yours. It doesn’t get any better than this. 

The minutes tick away on the obnoxious clock on the wall. Matt pulls out eventually, wrapping you up in a blanket. He coaxes you to drink, but you’re barely lucid. Only when he begins to stroke your hair you start coming back to yourself. You thought you might regret it, but as you look at him, his almost guilty eyes staring back at you, all you can do is reach out for him. 

“Session two tomorrow?” you ask.

He chuckles and retorts, “Have I not scared you away?” There is some truth to it though.

He’s covered in your blood. It sticks to his lips, his hands, and his chest. It’s sickeningly intimate, in a way.

You shake your head in response. “You could not possibly.”

He listens to your heartbeat. You’re as honest as they come. 

“Okay,” Matt says. “Session two tomorrow then.”

That night, you fell in love with the Devil, but he also fell in love with you, his angel in the form of a reckless journalist, and the only blood he ever wants to taste again until the end of his miserable, cursed days. 

Matt Murdock (Smut) Tag List: @shouldbestudying41 @theradioactivespidergwen @cheshirecat484 @1988-fiend @acharliecoxedfan @gpenguin666 @linamarr @mcugeekposts @itwasthereaminuteago @norestfortheshelbywicked @yarrystyleeza @littlenerdyravenclaw @etanordoesbullsh1t @thychuvaluswife @harleycao @schneeflocky @imjustcal @pipsqueakkitten @merlinbtch @sya-skies @amberritonicole @ravenclaw617 @pigeonmama @bohemianrhapsody86 @a-girl-has-n0-name @winkev1 @callsign-ember @chittaphonstar @buckyyyismahhlife

[bones4thecats]

May I ask for riddle Rose Hearts Floyd and Jade with kianna komori

But in this scenario they find her on the ground suffocating and choking since she hasn't drinking blood

In a week

They Find Their Vampire! S/O Dying

Type of Writing: Request Name: They Find Their Vampire! S/O Dying Characters: Riddle Rosehearts, Floyd Leech, and Jade Leech Requester: @nunezs-stuff

A/N: I mainly did this as their S/O being a vampire, since it just made a bunch of sense to me. But, I do hope you enjoy this! By the way, if any of y’all wanna know who ‘Kianna Komori’ is, just go to the requester’s account and you can find both old and updated content on her OC.

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Kianna Komori/Vampire! Reader ; Passes Out While Studying

❤️ Because of your past-life at that damned mansion, you had refused to tell anybody of what you had become years prior to you joining Night Raven College

❤️ Riddle was unfortunately one of the people you had to hold this back from

❤️ But, like everything else in your life, it all came crashing down and igniting in flames

" Y/N? Are you alright? "

❤️ Looking up in shock, you smiled nervously as your felt yourself get paler by the second while your teeth slowly grew larger and larger

" Y-yeah, I'm perfectly fine! " " My Rose, I do not appreciate being lied to. Do tell, what is wrong with you. " " Riddle, I said I'm fine, why would I lie about something so foolish? "

❤️ Shutting his science book, Riddle trekked closer to you and laid a hand on your forehead. And as he moved his limbs and blinked, he was unknowing to the fact that you were holding yourself back from biting him at full-force

❤️ While he spoke of your symptoms, you began to feel lightheaded, your eyelids drooping as he dug around a small box of books of potions or other remedies that may help you with your symptoms

❤️ When Riddle heard the sound of something hitting the table, he turned around and gasped as he noticed your head against the hardwood table as your breathing began to slow

❤️ It took both Trey to get the College’s nurse and Riddle with the assistance of Cater to move you onto the ground to even try calming your boyfriend down

❤️ Riddle was shocked to hear from the nurse that you weren’t a human, rather a humanoid-being known as the Vampire. And when he heard this, he looked down at your unconscious but hanging-in-there form on the bed and grabbed your hand as Trey and Cater walked outside with the medical professional

" Why would you hide something so important from me, love? "

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Kianna Komori/Vampire! Reader ; Passes Out While Talking To A Friend

🎭 Floyd does not like to be apart from you for very long, it’s just something he hates. But, his brother and childhood friend had won the game of hide-and-seek fair and square so… he guesses he’ll have to wait before squishing you in a hug

🎭 As his shift neared the end, Jade sighed and smiled at his twin before saying he could retreat for the day, as he could finish it himself

🎭 Smiling and yelling his thanks as he ran out, Floyd practically teleported to your location, and he scared the living crap out of every person he passed

🎭 But, seeing how uncomfortable you looked around that person made his blood boil slightly

🎭 Why were you so uncomfortable looking?

" Y/N? Are you okay? You don’t seem well… " " Yeah, I’m fi…ne… "

🎭 Lunging forward, Floyd pushed the other Night Raven College student away with a fire burning in his eyes as he looked at you form with a face as serious as Malleus’

🎭 He lifted you up and began to run to the nurse’s main office in search of help, and thankfully they were there

" So, what you're saying is that Y/N is a Vampire? " " Correct, Mr. Ashengrotto. " " How odd… " " Y/N's not odd! They're just different… "

🎭 Azul and Jade looked at one another before asking the nurse to speak outside, and they gratefully followed, not wanting to see the eel-mer’s pity party while clinging to your sleeping form

🎭 Floyd lightly poked the small nasogastric tube as it laid in your nose, feeding you the blood that you were desperately in need of

" You're gonna talk about this when you wake up, Y/N… "

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Kianna Komori/Vampire! Reader ; Passes Out While Hiking

( and yes, I had him nickname the reader after types of mushrooms. Bite me. )

🍄 Jade was not amused with the fact that he couldn’t find any of the new mushroom species he read about

🍄 While he did offer for you to trail back to the College because of how long this trip may end up going, you refused and practically mentally battles to stay with him on the trail

🍄 His eyes narrowed as you began to stumble around lightly, and when he saw how you just shook your head from staring at some random squirrel with a hungry look

🍄 And what alarmed him slightly was the fact that your nails seemingly grew a hint pointier and then flatter as you snapped out of your gaze

" Milk-Cap? Are you alright back there? You look as if you were going to attack the young tree-rat back there~ " " Huh? Yep, perfectly fine! W-why? " " I already said why… are you truly okay? Fairy-Bonnet? Y/N- Y/N! "

🍄 Dropping his small basket of mushrooms to the ground, Jade lunged and grabbed you around your waist before grabbing his magic pen and teleporting back to the College and running towards the nurse’s office

🍄 I swear I have written nurse so many damn times now

🍄 Petting your head as a tube went down your nose and throat to feed you the blood you were needing to gain energy from, Jade internally cursed himself

🍄 How could he not realize what you were and what you needed?! You were bound to be pissed at him when you awoke

" I apologize for overlooking such an obvious detail, Y/N… I hope you can forgive me… "

[moriartyluver]

Can we get vampire william james moriarty x reader?🙏🏻

A/N: vampire liam is so 🛐 would let him suck my blood. Anyways, in honour of Halloween 🤭

Character(s): William James Moriarty x gn! reader

Prompt: Vampire William James Moriarty

Format: headcannons

Genre: miscellaneous/ mildly spicy

Warnings: blood, vampires, reader’s gender isn’t specified, mildly nsfw but it’s mostly me being silly. Vampires can see sunlight it just makes them feel a bit faint. Also they’re allergic to garlic but it doesn’t kill them for the sake of the fic

This man is so fine no matter what but as a vampire???? 🤭

When you first met, he wasn’t like Edward from twilight and trying not to devour you or something but you did attract his attention and smelt nice to him.

He was more attracted to your personality though, not so much the scent of your blood. Don’t get me wrong though, he’d love a bite but he’s a respectful gentleman and wouldn’t say that aloud.

He might keep an eye on your for a bit before you start courting, as a bat. You’d see this silly little bat appearing on your windowsill every night after your first meeting and all it does it watch you. Sometimes he watches you as you sleep considering vampires are a little nocturnal. I mean, he doesn’t sleep much anyways, vampire or not. And when a pretty girl is added to the equation? Yeah no chance.

He definitely has a very vampy appearance, but you don’t think much of it first, when you bump into the handsome stranger at a ball. He asks you to dance, so hesitant you might’ve assumed he was shy.

Dark red eyes and sharp teeth? Aswell as a very chiselled and slim face? Nah, just hot. Nothing to see here.

Obviously he charms you quickly, but before he can even bring up marriage (because that’s what you did back then when a girl was attractive. You asked to marry her after meeting her three times) , he doesn’t know whether to tell you the truth about his situation.

When he does, you don’t exactly care too much. Is it even a flaw at this point? Regardless, you still love him because it’s William fucking Moriarty, who wouldn’t?

Anyways, when you are in a relationship, whether it be betrothed or married, he tried to force a distance between the two of you, out of fear he may lose control and kill you

If he wants your blood, he won’t ask and try to survive off animals, but honestly, if you matched his freak, you might just offer your neck up.

It takes some convincing but he eventually gives in to his impulses and sucks a decent amount of blood out of your neck (wow that’s hot)

I feel like he’d be afraid of what would happen to him after you die. He’s immortal, and you aren’t. You might offer to change, but he doesn’t want to curse you with becoming a vampire.

I can imagine a sort of meeting in every life thing, with Liam. Like as if you keep getting reincarnated, he finds you every time, and then you eventually die.

He might decide to be selfish and let you be immortal with him, after all those times of having to watch you die whilst he continues to love you. It’s more worth it in his eyes to make you suffer with him than continue to watch you suffer for the rest of eternity. That’s when he finally turns you into a vampire. And you never get bored of him.

[princessanonymous]

When Night Comes

Platonic Yandere Vampire

Previous Part | Next Part

First Chapter

Trigger Warning : Murder(I mean this is a platonic yandere vampire fic so I think it's expected but still)

3. 𝓑𝓻𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓮𝓻 𝓸𝓯 𝓡𝓾𝓲𝓷𝓪𝓽𝓲𝓸𝓷

(Y/n) rubbed her gloved hands together, a visible shiver running through her frame as the early signs of winter crept in. The tapestry of warm hues, created by the fallen leaves, hinted at the impending arrival of the cold season. Clutching her basket tightly, she navigated the forest floor, where the leaves crunched beneath her every step. Although she wore mittens that her mother had lovingly knitted, the biting wind still managed to sneak its way through, causing her to quicken her pace. She was used to walking down this path. The girl had passed through these trees more times than she could count. In fact, (Y/n) could confidently assert that she knew these woods as well as she knew the back of her hand, familiar with the choicest spots for fruits and the tastiest areas for legumes.

Her gaze dipped down to her basket, brimming with an abundant harvest of wild mushrooms. She liked picking mushrooms. While she held the expertise to distinguish between edible and toxic mushrooms, her mother had a habit of double-checking her finds before consumption. (Y/n) took pride in her knowledge, and it was something she didn't hesitate to boast about.

As she walked, her thoughts circled back to the clearing she had recently departed. She realized the mysterious nobleman hadn't stopped by today. She wondered why a person from such a high profile entertained himself with her. Despite the mystery surrounding his intentions, (Y/n) appreciated his presence. He seemed to genuinely enjoy her random rants and conversation. The only thing that she didn't quite appreciate about him was his insistence on the fact she shouldn't do these little tasks she considered trivial. In his eyes, she was "too young" to be working "so much," a notion she found utterly ridiculous. The invitation to live in his mansion had been extended a week ago, and his repeated offers, met with her continued refusal, had become somewhat tiresome.

The path neared its conclusion, and (Y/n) failed to hear the familiar sound of her father's ax slicing through wood, a task he undertook to prepare for the impending frigid months. As (Y/n) tilted her head to the side, she wondered if he had hurt his back again. He wasn't as young as he once was. This task was becoming too strenuous for her father.

She knocked at the door. Approaching home, she anticipated her mother's customary welcome, complete with a steaming bowl of stew. However, as she waited outside, there was no such greeting. Unsettled, (Y/n) tried the door, only to find it unlocked.

"Mom never leaves the door open," (Y/n) whispered out with a pit forming in her stomach. She didn't know why it made her feel so weird. Maybe her mother had simply forgotten to lock it. There was a first time for everything, right ?

"Mom? Dad?" she called out with uncertainty, stepping into the silence of the house.

The once-cozy family home lay in ruins, a chaotic scene of overturned chairs, shattered tables, and broken plates that appeared as if a merciless tornado had swept through their lives. Blood stained the floor in grotesque patterns, a sign to the carnage that had unfolded within. There was too much blood. Dad was laying there, unconscious— dead on the floor. His eyes were wide open, staring at her with horror etched in his features. His neck had been bent in an odd shape, blood pooling out of it at a rapid pace.

A few feet away, (Y/n)'s mother was held captive in the clutches of a man—a man she recognized as the Duke de Beauvoir. Her mother's eyes were vacant, her complexion deathly pale, and sharp, white fangs had punctured her neck, the source of her life's essence drained by this monster in human guise.

'Vampire,' her mind supplied the dreadful truth.

A creature taking the form of a man, feeding upon the lifeblood of mortals.

The beastly duke turned his gaze toward her, his once-blue eyes transformed into a deep, almost crimson violet. Blood, her mother's blood, trickled down his lips.

Every instinct within her screamed the same command: Run. And she obeyed, abandoning her basket and sprinting into the forest, a place she knew well. She darted among the trees, her footfalls almost stumbling over exposed roots and colliding with low-hanging branches. Her mind was on high alert, and her heart pounded fiercely. Eventually, she found refuge inside a massive oak tree, one with a sizable hollow in its trunk where she had often hidden as a child.

Footsteps drew closer, their ominous presence tormenting her. "Are we playing a game, child?" the voice of her parents' murderer called out in a singsong tone. "I will find you~."

(Y/n) bit down on her trembling lip, her hands muffling her sobs. It was a macabre irony that she was once again using this tree for hiding, but now it wasn't a game. She watched as he walked past the tree, seemingly unaware of her presence. Relief washed over her, but her respite was short-lived. He returned, kneeled, and peered down at her, his face twisted into a sinister smirk that revealed his elongated fangs.

Terrified, she couldn't suppress her scream, and he effortlessly yanked her out of her hiding place. As she fought back against his inhuman strength, she pleaded through sobs, "No! Let me go! Please—"

"Hush," the vampire whispered soothingly. "Your father is here now; I shall make it all better."

He smiled at her, and before she could fully comprehend his words, he sank his fangs into her neck. A harrowing shriek escaped her lips.

This was the end, she thought, the world fading around her. She would join her parents in the afterlife. Her vision blurred, and her body went limp against her will.

Eventually, her screams quieted, and the pain subsided. (Y/n) felt the vampire's arms carry her, her body unresponsive. Her breathing slowed, and her head spun. Everything began to fade to black.

[starstruckracc]

Heard you r lookin for some Astarion requests 😗

Do you do HCs? Would love some of Astarion with a touch starved Tav!!

If not, have a nice day, and good luck writing!!!

Oh I love this! In my personal opinion Astarion becomes a tactile little freak when he gets comfortable with your relationship so this is exactly my kind of prompt. I hope you don't mind drabble type headcanons, I don't really enjoy bullet lists. Enjoy, anon! And have a nice day too~

| GN!Reader, Astarion/Reader, Fluff, Drabble, SFW, No use of Y/N, No content warnings |

He tensed immediately as he waited, dreading for your touch to trail up his arm and then to the lacing of his collar to undress him. Waiting and waiting for you to seek out your half of the deal, but it never came. Your thumb brushed over his knuckles as your fingers curled into his and slipped into his hand, seeking comfort and reassurance during what was admittedly a rather intimate situation. Astarion returned the gesture, albeit hesitantly.

The first time Astarion clues onto your desire for contact, is the first time you let him feed from you after that initial night he'd tried to bite. As his nose was pressed against your warm skin, drawing sips of the rich crimson from your veins into his mouth he felt your hand brush against where his was flat against the ground of his tent.

It becomes routine as your arrangement continues, though it never goes further than gently holding your hand for a while.

But when he truly notices your craving for affection, he jumps on it, intending to exploit this little feature of yours. He pets your hair as he purrs false words of affection in your ear, tucking a stray strand back into place. He takes every opportunity to brush his hand against your arm, your shoulder, resisting the urge to smirk when he sees gooseflesh rise across your skin and the way your eyes soften as you look at him. All of his touches with you remain explicitly flirty, to further seduce you and pull you into his thrall.

Then he catches himself falling for you and no longer can he continue doing what he had been.

As your relationship unfolds, now truly all cards on the table, you start seeking him out. You brush your fingers against his as you walk or sit shoulder to shoulder with him by the campfire as he reads. Astarion would never admit that watching your sleepy eyes glaze over as your head lulls against his shoulder is his favourite part of the evening, especially as he lowers himself just enough that your cheeky can rest comfortably nestled into his collarbone. His petting becomes sincere and gentle, now touching you with his whole hand rather than just his fingertips as his repulsion to such contact slowly eases.

"Oh little love," Astarion purrs as he pulls away from your neck, swallowing down the last mouthful of your blood. He cups your cheek and watches as you instinctively press yourself into his hand and grasp his wrist, "look at you, perfect in my hands."

Astarion leans down and kisses your forehead, lingering just an extra moment because he knows how much you crave every caress he gives. He knows, and he understands, because slowly he finds himself craving your touch too, welcoming every moment he can have you in his arms, relishing the way your warm skin feels against the coldness of his own, both in bed and outside of it.

Especially outside of it. The vampire relishes how your affection isn't strictly sexual in nature. Astarion is enamoured that you seek to touch him purely for touch itself. Your hands themselves seem to warm him through with an intimate and gentle love. He kisses your hair whenever you're nestled in his lap and grabs your wrist to bring the palm of your hand to his lips, smiling against your skin as he kisses you.

Astarion adores you and thanks you everyday with each caress of his hand against you, and he will never tire of the way you melt against him.

[enj4s]

VAMPIRE BOY, BITE ME IN THE MOONLIGHT! ᡣ𐭩 .

─── ˚୨୧⋆ PAIRINGS; subaru sakamaki, 𖥻SUBARU x fem! reader ｡˚ ⋆

─── ˚୨୧⋆ 𝙒𝘼𝙍𝙉𝙄𝙉𝙂𝙎; smut. swearing. fem!dom! reader. reader is mean, again. pegging. (lil) hair pulling. hickies. crying. toxic relationship. both are fucked in the head.

★ Author note 😆😆!!: Whoever requested ts excuse my dramatic ass, I LOVE drama as you can see. (sorry btw) enjoy 🤤‼️ yallyal request I got nun to do other than rot in my bed 💔

It was one of those days-

You were a patient and laid-back person, or so you and some people thought. But your anger issues have gone up the roof since you met the seven diabolic, unhinged brothers.

Their mothers and Karlheinz were just as bad, if not even worse. The Mukamis could not redeem themselves but they were bearable, especially Azusa who was just less annoying and irritating, or atleast didn't make you wanna dig your nails in your skin and clutch hard till it bleeds, like the others. You had an exception between the seven Sakamaki siblings as well, whom was Subaru.

Subaru was one helluva person to deal with. If not for Karlheinz introducing you to his past, you would've kept your first impression of him, which was he had rabies.

That boy was as layered and complicated as an onion, and trying to navigate through his mind and emotions was gonna drive you mad. One moment he's calling you a dense ass for dropping a pencil or getting bitten, and the other he's glancing at you all soft like a high school girl in love would.

You swore you have spent and used more brain cells on trying to see through him than you had on maths. He could be downright cruel at times, and even dismissed you so harshly that you favored the men-whore final boss (Laito) over him for some while, which didn't last long when he forced you so adorably in a 'relationship' with him or is what you thought, since he ordered you to resist if any of his brothers try to bite you. What else did it mean?

He would become absolutely feral when he got jealous. It was pretty easy to make him reach that point, but dangerous. He would start yelling at you and destroying everything around him in blind rage when he saw you talk to a male teacher or student or his brother's, going as far as attempting drain you of plasma. It was all too tiring and frustrating, you wanted nothing but quietness, to be left alone and ignored.

His delusion of you being his was so utterly nonsensical, but you went along with it for your safety and sanity, it was wise to sometimes give up and give in to his delusions, which he used as a control and power element. Resisting only meant to get bit to near death, where you'd start to see stars and lights that you thought only existed in cartoons, or, like these times, when he'd strangle you.

-where you'd snap.

"Shut the FUCK UP!" You'd yell at the top of your lungs, couldn't you even be strangled to death silently? His yammering of you being a betrayer was so damn irritating. Subaru jolted and flinched away form the volume of your voice, that look on your eyes, he backed up slightly, his grip on your throat weakened. In a swift movement, you dug your nails deep into his unhealthily pale wrists, shoving him away with every ounce of strength you had left.

Subaru stumbled backwards, catching himself quickly, his white boots stepping on a broken shard of glass from a vase that you bet was supposed to be cherished. You felt guilty for using one of his traumas against him to make him halt, stop. Yes, but did it save you from getting choked? Yes.

The anger was incredibly contagious, you bite your lip to hold back all the insults and traumas you could bring up, knowing that it would just bring you brutal death and a quick burial in dirt in the next hour, you shut your mouth, trying to find saliva to relieve your sore throat that was deeply in dire need of moisture.

The grip he had on your throat just now had been so tight you could've sworn he had actually meant to kill you for a second. Your breathing became labored. Your heartbeat was stubborn and didn't wanna settle down. Your eyes stared back at Subaru's with a mixture of tears and fury, you blink. Trying to help your eyes get used to the light again.

Both of you had your flaws and toxic traits, you suddenly found yourself on top of Subaru, a hard grip on his hair that matched his on your throat earlier, you wipe salty tears away, everything was a blur. You swore you couldn't remember a thing. You'd insult other people for not controlling their actions, yet you couldn't keep yours in check either.

"Sorry," You murmured against his pale skin, kissing alongside the hickies and bite marks you left on his neck. They looked painful. He was a vampire, so you didn't worry too much. They'd heal in an hour or two. You were still between his thighs, cum dripped down his hips and legs.

"You just piss me off sometimes...It's so childish when you start yammering and yelling, creating scenes when I talk to anyone," You watched his wine red eyes trail down in something like shame. His mouth was sewed shut, he was already embarrassed from moaning as loud as he yells. He was cuter when he was quiet, you note, and grin silently, propping yourself on your knees to thrust inside him again without warning, tearing a shriek from the albino beneath you, he drops his head down on the pillows, you were making him feel way too good, as rough as it was.

It almost seemed like you were still taking your anger out on him as you pounded inside him harshly. Subaru felt his stomach coil and he tightens, when you'd lean down to whisper sweet nothings in his ear that didn't match your humping.

“C-ca- ah! Can’t! Hah..” Subaru whined shakily, a sound he'd drop dead before making if he was in his right state of his mind. He hiccups and whimpers as he covered his face with his hands. “So full..hic- too much," His legs dangle like a rag doll's from your shoulders as you plundge inside him deeper and deeper with each delicious thrust.

You lean down with a sigh, catching Subaru's lips in a kiss, and grab at his long bangs, tugging hard to tilt his head upward, and swallow down the loud wail that was about to wrack from his body as he came, vibrating slightly and hips thrusting up pathetically in the air. His fangs poked at your lip a bit painfully as he tried to bite down his noises, now chasing after your lips and the little blood that threatened to spill.

Getting strangled or beat again later from a flustered Subaru wouldn't be surprising after wracking his shit, but it was worth it. You could only laugh as he emptily threatened to break your arm after this, complaining that he couldn't feel his legs and that you're a perv.

─── ˚୨୧⋆ @enj4s ♡ @un0rin ♡

don't repost or copy I know where u live 👁

[leonkennedygvrl]

The Beauty of Embalmment.

re2r neighbour leon kennedy x vampire fem reader

💋 warning — 18+, biting, blood kink, stalking, cannibalistic thoughts, necrophilia, gore, weird stuff, dick biting, just lots of biting, marking, p in v, forced orgasm, mentions of self harm, virginity loss, leon’s 27 but re2, reader is 30, reader is really weird and icky, dead fucking dove guys seriously it’s gross and all of that so mind what you read!

Cold and dark. This was your type of night, surrounded in the stench of decay in a room where only a faint buzz would emerge and abolish the silence. You’d open a fridge, stare quite blankly at the feet of someone with a tag hooked to their toe. This was a man, you’d only gotten him yesterday. He could do with a little bit of… corrupting, as they’d say.

Pulling his tray you guided him to the middle of the room, washing your hands in the sink, nails razor sharp before covering them with blue gloves. You had thought about filing them down, after all scratches leave DNA, DNA leads to evidence and that leads to jail time. Oh well, as long as you got your fill there as well.

See, the life long dream you had was to become a surgeon. Cut into bodies and remove abscesses and all those types of bits and bobs but luck was never on your side because you were a little different or a lot and who would ever trust a leech near a body? So instead, you became a mortician. There’s no point in trying to feast on a corpse, there’s a word for it but what’s it called… rigor mortis? No, not that one. You had studied it in forensics so long ago. Livor mortis, that’s the one. Blood didn’t taste good post-lividity, just bland and bitter and you were picky.

Being a vampire meant nobody in the world was attracted to you, that’s why you undressed corpses and touched their cold bodies. You covered their face for their diginity (?) more like to satiate your delusions that you were a better person.

This guy, you’d looked at his name on the tag, Edward with a long surname that you couldn’t be bothered reading. Hm, he was a little green settling into bacteria, scrawny and lifeless. His body stiff but to your dismay his dick was flaccid, and small. And ugly. It looked like a worm, but you’d have to make do. You stroked it, feeling no sense of arousal because he wasn’t packing many inches! You liked a big dick, or even average. Edward was perhaps… four inches?

“Edward, you must’ve had little women on your dick.” You mumbled dazed, you were kind of angry at him. Why was he so small? You hated it. You retracted your hand and pulled the cover off of his face, he was cute. Must’ve been Balkan, his nose was big. Maybe the saying was false, because his dick wasn’t much. “You need to be punished, Edward.”

You’d reached into your coat, pulling out a pretty pocket knife the blade rusted slightly. You’d used this a few times as a teenager, mutiliating your wrists because it looked nice and you liked the taste of your own blood. Then on some corpses, just like right now. You moved back towards the phallus, pressing the sharp edge of the knife against his foreskin and digging deep, sliding down. His blood flow was halted so it oozed out in a way you didn’t enjoy.

But his dick opened like a lotus flower blooming the more you cut into it, you observed the muscles and how limp they looked. This man was a mistake, he deserved to die. Half an hour in, you’d searched every nook and cranny until you were bored and he was unrecognisable — his organs hanging out, your pocket knife gripped in your hands as you slid down against the wall and brought it to your lips.

Just taste good, for once. You were hungry. Starving. Your tongue darted out and swiped across the blade, eyebrows frowning at the bitterness. The blood was clotting and thick, you much preferred the smooth silky texture of an alive person’s one. Sigh. Sigh. Sigh. You packed everything up and went back to your gloomy apartment where you wallowed in self-pity.

You needed wanted blood. And dick. Good dick.

Oh, hail to the universe. The guy you were looking at, he was just… delectable. Could you say that? Boyish, strong-looking and alive. He wasn’t too pale, he looked warm. Mm. Warm blood. His thick forearms were straining as he held boxes, he was your new neighbour. You just stared at him while standing in the doorway of your apartment. Thick veins, more blood. Pulse, pulse, pulse. Your pussy was screaming in her panties, she wanted that boy.

You couldn’t describe how you felt, he was tall but not too tall, his hair was soft-looking and a pretty colour of dirty blonde with eyes resembling an azure sky. But what got you the most, apart from how warm he looked, was his sharp features. A bump on the bridge of his upturned nose and brows bushy yet groomed, his jawline chiseled. Perfect. God, you wanted to po—

“Hey there, mind opening the door for me please? My hands are in a bunch.” He said to you. He spoke to you. The fucking psycho who got off to dead bodies because she was so miserable in her own despondency. You watched his face contort intoperplexion, waiting for you to respond instead of standing there like a shunned fish. “Or… not.”

“No I can.” You rasped, scurrying in front of him and twisting the knob open. He smiled, a lively look in his pretty eyes. Life. Not dead. Not empty and dull. Not smelly. He smelt good. Oh, so good. Heightened senses meant you could smell the sweet coppery scent of his blood mixed with his odor of… maybe pine? Cherry? Nah, it was like citrus. Like Mountain Dew. He walked into his apartment and dropped the boxes, wiping his glistening forehead.

“Hey, thanks. You’re my neighbour right?” Leon asked with a tilt of his head, he could tell you were a bit weird and initially he took the hint that maybe you were austistic with the way you lacked social skills. Oh, that’s mean and downright disrespectful. He took it back. You were pretty though, something about you. He didn’t know what though.

Nod. Nod. Nod. Almost too eagerly, you cursed yourself but you didn’t fucking care! You wanted his blood, his body, all of him. And if he didn’t want you, then it’s alright. Straight to the morgue. Unless…

Unless say, he magically died and ended up in your care? Though you hoped he wouldn’t be as small as Edward. You know what they say about white guys. You heard him speak again but you honestly weren’t paying much attention.

Eon. Your expression became bashful, your brain was fried. You needed blood. Eon? Oh. Leon.

“Leon? Nice. I like that.” You blurted out and gave him a once-over, and he flushed. He wasn’t good with women. Especially forward ones. It’s the way you stared at him. “I like your name. Do you want help?”

“I mean, with unpacking? Yes, please.” He replied, watching as you moved to inspect his boxes. He followed after you, doing the same. It was a little awkward if he was being perfectly honest because whenever he looked at you, you weren’t looking. You were thinking. But what were you thinking about? Who were you? Why were you so surreal?

“So… have you lived here a while?” Leon asked, grabbing numerous glass cups and shoving them into a cupboard. He wasn’t a neat freak, he just wanted things out of the way. He noticed you took more time observing his items then actually putting them away. Weird…

“Born and raised. It’s a bad town, too subfusc. Did you notice it lacks bars everywhere? It’s industrial, cold and depressing.” You replied with a shrug, the next item you held was a frame. Of Leon. Must’ve been his graduate photo, with the outfit and all as you ran your index finger down the line of his face. Sharp nail grazing the glass. So pretty. So handsome. He had the type of head you’d hang on your wall.

Leon listened to you, yeah, you were weird. But he chuckled. It was kind of endearing. He hoped you’d put the photo away though, that’s when he had acne and his eyebrows were hairy. A beautiful girl like you shouldn’t look at that, shouldn’t see the bad phases. “Really? And here I was thinking it was the perfect vacation spot.”

No laugh. As expected, he sucked at jokes. But you were just so focused on the photo, only the slightest little hint of a crooked smile appearing. He watched you shake your head, finally meeting his gaze.

“No, it’s horrible. Even this apartment, my pet bunny got dismembered by teenagers three years ago. On Halloween. So I don’t celebrate it anymore in honour of Mrs. Tinkel.” Oh, there it was. You watched the discomfort creep onto his expression. Maybe, if you were a little smarter, you would of kept that to yourself but hunger meant stupidity. Blood kept you sane. Sort of. If you could even keep an insane person sane.

“That’s… um, wow.” Leon breathed, clearing his throat. Maybe it was best to end the topic because you’d turned away and eventually most of the house was done. He thanked you for your help and closed the door once you exited. You still wanted his attention though, you debated cutting open your wrist like old times just so he could pamper you. But you didn’t. You figured he was creeped out enough.

That day plagued your mind for the following week, you worked night shifts only — hey, how else can you make it through as a nocturnal? So every evening, you rugged up, left your apartment but with the new addition, you’d stand right outside Leon’s door for a minute or two and stare. Just stare. Then you’d walk away and take several trains to the morgue. Do your deed, go home, sleep and repeat.

But during the day? Apart from a short nap, you started to watch over Leon. It was compulsive, you weren’t bored at all like normal. Your heart didn’t feel so cold, unless of course you weren’t watching him. Everything he did, you were writing it down in your brain, at the beginning it was just watching him through the window.

Although recently you started walking behind him in public spaces, taking photos with your flip phone. Yeah, they were grainy and kinda shit but you couldn’t be bothered upgrading it’s not like you cared about the media at all. If your eyes had good vision, why would you need a camera?

What bothered you was how Leon hardly spoke to you apart from the occasional greeting, was he really that pressed when you’d told him about your bunny? It’s not like you dismembered the poor thing. Some sicko did. See, you weren’t a sicko even if you harassed dead bodies. You were just… curious? Hungry? Dahdahdah, who cares. You needed to find a way to get him to speak to you again, and a rather silly idea popped into your head.

When the sun went down you journeyed off to the morgue and moved into the cold room, flicking through the fridges. You had so many goddamn females and with what you were planning, that simply would not work. The only male you had in stock was no other than fucking… small-dicked Edward. You shoved door open and pulled the trolley out, washing and gloving your hands before grabbing your trusty best friend.

The squelches that resonated from the corpse when you sliced into his chest accompanied that buzzing noise, the laceration splitting open wide until you saw his ribcage. You brought your fist down onto the fairly weakened bone and punched, again and again and again. The crunching was so… comforting. You severed the aorta carelessly and then shoved your hand into his chest, ripping the heart out.

You’d box it up, make it all nice and pretty and write a HEART warming letter. If Leon would, mind the smell, that is. You were eager, desperate at this point, you squeezed the organ a bit in your hands before moving to properly wash it. Hey, at least you were considerate.

And the very next day you knocked on Leon’s door, to your surprise he answered quickly. Yeah, you could have orgasmed right then and there. He had sweats on with a small towel draped over his shoulders, his hair slightly damp and he smelled as good as he always did. You quite literally resisted the urge to pounce on him.

“I got you a present. A gift.”

Leon’s eyebrow raised, looking down at the box in your hands. You’d need a lesson or two on learning how to wrap ribbons, but he was no expert himself. Props to you. He smiled. “You didn’t have to.”

You did. You did. You absolutely did.

He opened the door a little wider, ushering you inside with a wave of his hand. Large, calloused. You wanted to sink your fangs into his fingers. Nibble on his flesh, you imagined how good he’d taste. Fresh meat. But he was too perfect to die.

When you’d made yourself comfortable on his couch you handed him the gift with a smile that didn’t quite your eyes, you avoided toothy grins so that you didn’t need to deal with the inevitable consequence of people freaking out at the sight of your canines.

“Read the card first.” You muttered quickly, he needed to understand that you weren’t were insane. Just loving. And caring. And thoughtful. Leon nodded, pressing his lips together as he fingered the card and opened it up.

I am only responsible for my own heart, you offered yours up for the smashing, my darling. Only a fool would give up such a vital organ.

You every reaction he made, which was mostly a sense of mystification. But hey, no negatives so far. Your noticed a pain in your palm from how hard your nails were digging into the skin. Were you really this anxious?

“Wow, that’s uh…” Leon began with a dry chuckle, looking at you briefly before putting the note down and opening the box.

His eyes went wide. Not in the best way. You frowned, no; he has to like it. You did it all so he could like it. But he was frozen. Why was he frozen? After all the effort you put into it? Was he ungrateful? Did you read the signs wrong? It’s just an organ. Just an organ. A vital one.

“What… the hell?”

“It’s a heart.”

“I can see that.”

You tilted your head, you loved him. This wasn’t just some obsession. You felt a warmth around him.

“It’s clean. I didn’t murder someone,” You figured it’d be important to mention that. Though, would mutiliating a dead body be considered unlawful killing? Whatever. You moved to him, pushing the box to the ground. Baring your teeth, he gasped lightly at the sight of your fangs. Razor sharp, like your claws. “Nobody could ever love you like I can, Leon. You’re all I think about, all I know. I’m not dangerous, I just want a taste.”

“A taste? You’re—“ He tried, but was quickly interrupted when he felt your hot breath ghosting across his neck. He internally slapped himself, every woman he met was a bit cuckoo in some sort of way but why did he feel a pulse in his pants? It had to be some natural reaction because A: you happened to be attractive. B: You smelt nice. C: You were close to him. “God, you’re not going to kill me are you?”

“Taste.” You whispered, hand pressing onto his knee to keep him grounded. “It’ll hurt.” You sunk your fangs beside the two bite-shaped moles near his adam’s apple, his body convulsed as he groaned and attempted to push you off for a moment. No, you really were glued like a leech as you retracted your teeth and licked the blood.

Oh, it had to be the sweetest you’ve ever had. Your pupils dilated, blowing out your iris as Leon panted. He didn’t know why he was letting you do this, you were clearly a bit mental but at the same time… maybe he liked it, just a little bit. Old virgin boy like him was quite the pervert behind closed doors, so he let you mark him. His shoulders, chest, thick biceps, fingers, anywhere you could name.

“You’re draining me.” He whispered, blue eyes narrowed as he watched you crawl down his body. His dick was so hard it hurt and you gazed at it like you were starstruck.

“You taste too good.” You mumbled, fingers hooking into his sweatpants and underwear and shoving them down to his knees. He jolted, feeling the cold air hit his cock like a miasma. You were convinced you’d won the lottery at this point, he wasn’t small. His girth really got you going, so much flesh to play with that you weren’t feeling so tedious anymore.

Your lips were a little red from the blood as you lapped at the head of his cock, his thighs visibly tensing. He’d never felt something like that and mark him the biggest liar if he claimed to hate it, the way you swirled around his frenulum like you knew what you were doing. Although, thoughts might beg to differ if he discovered you’re a necrophilic.

“Fuck, it’s—“ Leon breathed with a rasp, his fingers tapping the couch in sensitivity. The sensations were so strong and when you finally wrapped those soft lips around his dick, he’d melted into a puddle of goo. Just like his brain. Absolutely mush as strings of whines left his lips and he trembled and twitched.

You loved it. But you wanted to take him by surprise and finally listen to that intrusive thought as you pulled him out, took him way back to the base and then out again. You licked the side of his dick, extracted your fangs and dug them into the meat.

“N–no! Fuck, fuck!” Leon cried out, quickly entangling his fingers into your hair as pain overrode his pleasure and he clenched his eyes shut. The stinging was almost too much to bare on such a sensitive area, it was like plucking hair on his balls. He pulled at your hair in return but you were latched on, moaning against his flesh. You were just addicted to the taste, it was indescribable. But at the same time, you felt ws though you genuinely liked him and you didn’t to cause him too much pain you did.

Unhooking your mouth, you lapped at the blood as his grip relaxed a little bit but tears were imbedded into his lashline as he shuddered. You cooed softly, moving back up and situating yourself onto his lap.

“Didn’t mean to hurt you… you just taste so good,” You whispered, lacking sincerity as you kissed away his tears and he sniffled, cock semi-hard but throbbing at your touch. “I’ll make you feel so good now, you get that? C’mon, talk to me.”

“…Okay… alright just… no more biting, please.”

You laughed, licking any residue off your lips. He’s crazy if he thought you’d ever stop, you’d gotten a taste and you were hooked. He should stop feeling sorry for himself because you’re the victim here! You haven’t had a meal in ages, yet he feeds himself every nighr. You scoffed at the mere thought of humans.

“Mm, maybe. I’ll think about it.” You murmured, kissing along his jawline. “Are you a virgin, Leon?”

He flushed, pinkness coating the bridge of his nose as he turned his gaze downcast. How embarrassing to have to admit himself. He nodded, but you loved that. He was pure, untouched. Waiting for the right one, for you.

“Knew you were just perfect.” You sighed, shimmying your pants off until you were in your underwear. Basic nanny jammies, you don’t go shopping often. You’re a wacko, your routine is just sleep and work. Leon glanced at them, it was a little funny but so was the fact that he was nearing his thirties and still a virgin. His breath hitched when you sandwiched his thick cock between your folds through the cotton material, so soaked your pussy pressed straight through.

“Oh, God. You’re soaked.” Leon murmured in awe, his big hands moving to grasp your hips and pull you into that front and backwards movement at a faster pace. Your clit constantly being stimulated made your eyebrows arch inwards as a series of moans joined upon his. You nodded along, he had that effect on you. “Fuck, please. I need to feel you.”

He was begging? That’s cute. Your eyes were half-lidded, pleasure had a tendency to making you a bit dozy. So did good blood. You’ve had a fucking feast and the bite marks all over his body and his dick were satisfying, like an artist painting a blank canvas. You slipped your panties to the side, grinding the tip against your entrance until he was writhing.

Then slowly, you sank down. The stretch took you a little by surprise, eliciting a small gasp as your gummy walls clenched around his cock the further you went. He threw his head back, panting hard as you officially took his virginity. You didn’t give yourself time to adjust, grinding and bouncing on his lap as he squirmed and sobbed hoarsely, you didn’t think he could look so pathetic.

“Feels good, hm?” You asked, kissing down the column of his neck and sinking your fangs into it again. At the same time, you had tightened up when his blood oozed into your mouth making him groan and buck his hips, the pain mixing with pleasure God he was feeling too much at once. The base of his dick felt immediate pressure that just wanted to burst.

He nodded, and nodded. You were such a crazy bitch but your pussy was good, though he was dizzy. You were gonna kill him if you took anymore blood, but you were selfish and he felt like he was too. Then you took him away completely when you moved your hips in a circular motion, your ass rubbing against his balls making him twitch uncontrollably.

“Fuck… I—I’m cumming—“ Leon whispered, his eyes fluttering closed as you forced an orgasm out of him — it was all too much for him to bare and you sighed in satisfaction, his cum squirting inside you until you convulsed and reached your high. Milky droplets of orgasm slipping down his cock as he passed out and you sniffed along him, the musk of his sweat was nice.

“Mm, I’m keeping you.”

lord, that was long. thank you to anyone who reads and anyone who reblogs/comments ❤️

[inquisitornocturn]

⊱─ 𝕨𝕙𝕖𝕟 𝕔𝕒𝕟𝕟𝕠𝕟𝕤 𝕗𝕒𝕕𝕖 ─⊰

➺ 𝕡𝕒𝕚𝕣𝕚𝕟𝕘: Ascended Astarion x f!reader the vampire bride

➺ 𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕤: no y/n is used, rating - E, teasing, biting, choking, blood drinking, fingering, spanking, verbal degradation (mild), reverse voyeurism, PIV, praise kink, dirty talk, blowjob, begging, cum, facial, reader is quite cheeky in this one, plot what plot

➺ 𝕤𝕦𝕞𝕞𝕒𝕣𝕪: meetings, forever boring, never quick enough. you're irritated that no one seems to be able to stay on track and Astarion is not helping at all, he's enjoying the gossip. it's time you move things forward if you want to leave the Council Room before whole day passes without anything productive being done. but Astarion is not too happy that you take initiative without his permission. he'll punish you for this and you will make sure to enjoy it.

➺ 𝕨𝕠𝕣𝕕 𝕔𝕠𝕦𝕟𝕥: 6,931

𝕒𝕦𝕥𝕙𝕠𝕣 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕖: written for a friend. thank you so much for many many fun times <3

for @rhiaden

Slow. So slow. The sun coming in through the windows, the chatter of men and women, the sound of shuffling papers. It’s like time itself has slowed down in this moment. Your eyes sweep around the room and you see all the familiar faces that you have seen many times before, even in this very same room. Some laughter. You frown. This again. Why nobody just gets on with the meeting, you don’t want to spend the rest of your morning here. 

The tapping of fingers to your side begs for your attention and you glance over almost absentmindedly.

“Darling, you’re scowling again, you know that scares them.” Astarion mutters so that only you can hear and you resist the desire to roll your eyes. Of course they are scared, that’s deeply ingrained in their nature after all, to be scared of those who don’t bend or bow no matter the circumstances.

“I’m just waiting until they pick up the topic again.” You give Astarion’s tapping fingers a short glare and he stops immediately then looks around. He’s not fond of these meetings either even when they are, in their own way, mandatory.

“It might take a while unless someone makes them focus on the task at hand. You know how they get - most of them gather here to gossip and share secrets that belong to someone else.” he responds with a small grin and looks back at you, his gaze meeting your eyes.

“You are here for the same reason.” you lift your eyebrows at him and Astarion chuckles lightly.

“Perhaps. But that’s what’s fun, love. Gossip, not this…” he waves his hand trying to emphasize a thought that you know very well. 

He never has been a details person and he didn’t suddenly become one after he took his place as a Lord. He’s learning though, you can see that much. From others and from you, and it makes pride swell in your chest. Lord or not - he’s still the one you love and want to see succeeding. 

“Listen, I’m not going to sit here all day looking pretty just because they can’t keep themselves on track.” you tell him and Astarion pats your hand that’s resting on the table. He looks like he wants to say something but then you both hear his name being called out. For a second you notice a shade of annoyance pass over his face before your lover composes himself and plasters on a perfectly pleasant smile.

He stands and pulls at his doublet, straightening it out, then gestures over the room.

“My dear patriars, why don’t we get back to our topic?” Astarion asks loudly, making the room fall silent and all eyes turn to him. He pauses for a moment until every last person present stops shuffling around or moving and starts paying him full attention. “Let’s not forget why we’re here, shall we?” his charming smile is as beautiful as ever even though you can see how fake it is. He hates these meetings, after all. 

“But what can we even do, Lord Astarion?” one of the nobles asks and you don’t need to look who it is to recognize the voice with ease - he’s one annoying man you wouldn’t mind getting rid of yourself. “The assassination attempt just tells us that we have to be careful about who we cross!” what a coward, you almost scoff.

“Yes, we should be vigilant but now there’s a spot open in the council. Why don’t we try to find a suitable candidate for it?” Astarion keeps his little smile and you have to keep yours down. The assassination, after all, was your doing. Astarion even has a new candidate picked out, he only needs to make others see why they should vote for this newcomer.

“So who do you propose?” another voice and this time you look at the speaker. Lady Lyssa is probably the oldest member of the council but so far she has not been trying to interrupt Astarion’s schemes. Good for her. 

At the question Astarion glances at you, wanting to receive your confirmation before he announces his chosen but you just want to get on with it. Instead of nodding to him or giving any other sign of approval, you stand up, very much to his surprise, and decide to take over the proceedings that usually take painfully long. 

“We believe that Lord Folwin is perfect for this position, he has proven himself loyal and trustworthy to the Gate.” you begin and notice Astarion giving you a pointed look, but with a grin he sits down in his chair crossing his legs and leaning back, letting you take over. 

A murmur washes over everyone gathered and you continue, making sure your voice is loud and clear for everyone to hear exactly what you are telling them. Wrapped up in this whole discussion you don’t really notice the intense look Astarion is giving you, neither do you notice an edge to his smile that you would recognize easily - while he’s impressed that you are quickly moving the meeting and are persuading others to agree with his selection, he’s still not entirely thrilled at the idea of you possibly thinking that you can easily upstage him whenever you wish. 

By the time most of the arguments are resolved about this new candidate you start noticing something - a foot tapping rather impatiently and when you glance back at your lover his eyes immediately meet yours, burning into you with intensity of hell’s fire. You raise an eyebrow at that but turn away when your attention gets called, deciding that you can deal with whatever bothers Astarion afterwards.

And yet the tapping doesn’t stop, beginning to irritate you as you speak to the nobles, now feeling hyper-aware of it. Fortunately, the meeting doesn’t last much longer and you feel free to dismiss the patriars who start leaving the room by one or in pairs, discussing things that matter only to them. 

Tapping of Astarion’s foot only stops when you at last turn to him and cross arms on your chest.

“What was that?” you ask immediately, even before the last noble leaves and Astarion raises his eyebrows at you, feigning innocence.

“What was what, my treasure?” he smiles and finally you see that edge in his features. Ah, he’s unhappy about something although you are not really sure what exactly.

“The noise.” you respond sharply and Astarion’s smile fades as if it was never there.

“I was just waiting for you to finish your little performance.” he says sounding almost casual but both of you are irritated now and it’s obvious. 

“My performance?” you snap at him, raising your voice just enough to show him that you don’t want to take his attitude and Astarion frowns, standing up now.

“Darling, did you think I won’t notice?” he reaches out to you, trailing his fingertips along your jawline and you almost move away but his touch is warm and comforting, making it hard for you to remain serious.

“Notice what exactly?” you break into a grin and Astarion gives you a curious look then allows himself a small smirk.

“That you’re trying to be leader of our little meetings. Not the first time you speak up without permission.” his thumb finds your bottom lip and rubs it slowly, his eyes focused on what he’s doing and you press your palms against his chest softly.

“Permission? Since when I need a permission from you to speak?” you dip your head slightly forward and catch his thumb with your teeth, making him inhale sharply. You’re getting to him and you know it. So much for his bravado.

“When we’re in meetings discussing things of importance I need you to be compliant and agreeable, my dear.” Astarion grins wider and his fingers grip your chin tighter as he pushes his thumb into your mouth before you can bite down harder and stop him. “You see, when patriars of this wonderful city are watching, well… I can’t allow them to think that you’re the one speaking for us, love.” your lover’s eyes finally rise to yours and you see his thoughts clearly written in his expression, it’s almost as if you can read his mind just without the tadpole anymore. 

He wants to remind you that he’s in charge because it did annoy him that you took initiative without consulting him first. Appearances matter, that’s something he always repeats to you. And his appearance matters most of all. 

You watch his expression change immediately when you lick at his finger provocatively and bite down just a little bit stronger onto his thumb.

“Ah! Release it, darling. I need you to answer me.” Astarion scolds you softly and you are almost tempted not to follow his instruction but relent and release the digit from your teeth. 

He pulls it away and steps closer now, making sure that your eyes never leave his, making you drown in the scarlet of them. 

“You have to promise me, love.” he pauses while his hands find your waist and pull you closer. “Promise me that you will behave next time.” Astarion’s tone of voice is serious and you can’t help but melt at his touch, this closeness, however it’s just too much fun to tease him.

“And if I don’t?” you ask, grasping onto his doublet with your fingers and giving it a gentle tug. “You will punish me? Teach me my lesson? Oh no, how I will survive the wrath of one Lord Ancunin.” you tease and notice his jaw clench even though his smile remains.

“I always knew you liked to play with fire, but this is not something I’m willing to discuss. Either you agree to do as you are asked or I will have to remind you of your position.” he leans in and you expect a kiss but instead he whispers into your pointy ear. “And your position is on your knees in front of me, darling.” 

You pause, for a moment smelling his perfume and enjoying his body pressed against yours, but you don’t want to just agree with him. If he wants you to agree and comply, well, he’ll have to show you that he’s worth complying for.

You lift your face, getting closer to his ear and smile widely.

“Is that so? If I recall correctly it was you who kneeled in front of me last time.” you whisper, feeling almost giddy because it’s true. Indeed last time he was kneeling with his mouth pressed firmly between your legs while you grasped the curtains where he cornered you. The memory sends a tingle down your spine. 

Astarion pauses at your words and you gasp loudly when he suddenly bites your ear just enough to send a shockwave of pleasure down your body. Damn elven ears. You try to move your head away and he lets you as he leans back to look at your face. The grin you see on his face spells danger. But the kind of danger you like. 

“Insolent little pup, seems a lesson is in order after all.” Astarion’s voice carries a promise that you won’t leave this room without being reminded that you’re his, for eternity. 

“Go ahead then, teach me that lesson.” you smile to him and he frowns just a little bit, then returns your smile with a smug one of his own.

Without another word he turns slightly to the side and pushes you backwards until you’re against the table. You make a point to check if the door is closed, but finding it ajar you decide not to mention it. With growing anticipation to crown this boring meeting with something much more pleasant, the thrill of being seen by some spoiled noble only adds to your excitement. 

“You’re not escaping.” Astarion misinterprets you looking away from him and you return your attention to him with a chuckle.

“Would you let me if I tried?” you tease and he grins, the type of grin that shows his fangs like a promise of danger. 

“Want to try?” he asks but you’re not given the chance to answer because suddenly you feel his fingers grip at the seams of your pants then pulling at them, forcing you up the table and sitting you on the edge of it. Another moment and he easily pushes your legs apart, taking his rightful place between them. “But if you do try….” Astarion continues speaking while his fingers release the fabric of your pants and grip your hips possessively. “…I don’t promise to play nice.” with a whisper he briefly brushes his lips against yours and then his head dips down, to your neck.

You lean your head back and gasp when you feel his lips press wetly to your skin. Your hands move to embrace him, one arm around his waist and another around his neck, you tangle your fingers into his silver locks.

“Maybe sometimes I don’t want you to play nice.” you whisper, letting your eyes close as you relax into sensation of his tongue sliding across the bite marks he left you with on the night he made you his forevermore. Yet your words give him a pause and he chuckles.

“Is that so, my dearest pet?” he asks cheekily, making you smile, and you pause before replying because you begin to feel his fangs against the skin of your neck, grazing lazily, poising to bite. 

You gasp when his teeth sink into your skin and you pull his body closer to yours in an attempt to signal your growing need. After a moment or two of taking a few swallows of your blood Astarion lifts his head and looks at you, amused.

“So eager already?” he taunts and you give him a look from under your eyebrows, tugging at his hair lightly.

“You are the one eager here, I just…” you pause, then smile. “Follow your lead, as you wished.” 

“Funny.” Astarion licks his lips clean from last traces of your blood, then glances at the door himself, seeing at last that is still ajar. “You saw this and said nothing.” it’s not a question but a statement and you blush ever so slightly because you got caught.

“Don’t tell me you’re scared to be seen.”

“Oh, darling. Of course I’m not. If I so desire I will fuck you in the middle of Baldur’s Gate while the crowd cheers with my every claim to your body.” Astarion smiles and something in his tone tells you that he’s not just teasing, he truly believes he can do as he pleases within the city. It makes you squirm slightly because his confidence is something that always makes you want more of him, more of his touch.

“Then what are you waiting for? Didn’t you want to teach me a lesson?” you tug at his hair again, this time stronger, making Astarion inhale sharply and give you a dangerous smile.

“I’m not sure if you’re going to learn that lesson unless I get strict with you, my love.” he pauses, thinking for a moment, his eyes flick to the door and back to your face. You know it betrays your desire underneath the cheekiness that you’re displaying right now. He knows you maybe even better than you know yourself. “But fine. I’ll indulge you. If my consort wishes so.”

Astarion offers you a smile that you can’t quite read before he grabs your throat and squeezes, not letting you inhale. His expression turns to almost vicious satisfaction at your reaction. 

“Good. I like that expression on my bratty little love. It fits you.” he says and steps away from you while still holding your throat, making you release your grasp on him. Without another word he pulls you off the table, making you stand on your feet and walks you alongside the table until he finally seems to have chosen a spot. “Perfect.” Astarion sounds almost gleeful now but in a way that doesn’t sound unpleasant. Whatever he has in mind - you want to experience it. 

You are not given the time to read his expression and possibly understand his intentions because your lover turns you so that you bump into the table again and he leans to your face, releasing his punishing grip on your neck at last.

“Try to be quiet, little love.” there’s real threat unveiled in his words, a promise of punishment if you fail, and you know that this time he means it. 

Indulging you or not, his reputation still hangs in the balance if he’s caught fucking in the Council room. You swallow dryly and nod, not even arguing anymore. How he handled you just now was enough to make your craving for him bigger than your need to be bratty with him. 

“Let’s see if you can be a good girl for me or if I’ll have to fuck you like a back-alley slut to make sure you listen to me.” Astarion grabs your hips and turns you around, then his hand shoots up and grabs the back of your head, forcing you over the table and you finally realize why he pulled you here - from your position you can clearly see the open door. 

That bastard.

You grin to yourself but then pause as your eyes widen in short surprise because you feel Astarion’s hand slide underneath you, finding the buttons of your pants. He really does intend to fuck you here and your head swims with the promise of pleasure.

“You’re so naughty, you know that, right?” Astarion murmurs as he works your pants and you smile, almost shivering from anticipation, not resisting, letting him do what he wants. “You always try to provoke me and you always succeed.” a squeeze on your neck tells you that he is in fact irritated at your earlier behavior and you have to fight yourself lest you chuckle audibly.

“I was just doing what I thought was right. The meeting was going nowhere with the pace it was crawling at.” you respond and glance at the door, for now relieved that you don’t hear anybody approaching. You don’t want to be interrupted before he fills you in that deliciously familiar way you can’t get enough of. 

“You always say that.” Astarion replies and his hand slips from under you, then his fingers curl around the waistline of your pants and yank it down your hips, exposing your rear. Another yank on your pants and they end up somewhere near your knees. You bite your lower lip because you don’t want to respond, you don’t want to risk stopping him.

Astarion easily elicits a gasp out of you when his fingers press between your legs, right against your clit and rubs it slowly, teasingly even.

“Quiet now.” he reminds you and you just hum in agreement, moving your hand closer to your mouth just in case you need to silence yourself. Your eyes do not leave the maw of the open door but your focus is entirely on what you feel - his fingers and the arousal that quickly makes you feel as if your body is on fire. He knows what he’s doing and he’s good at it. 

Your lover continues for a while, making your body shiver and your legs tremble until you give in and allow the table to support your weight entirely. You remain quiet the entire time, just breathing heavier when a familiar pleasure begins to build. You say nothing, enjoying yourself but then gasp in protest when his fingers retreat. You want to move your head, to look at him with a question of why, but the grip on the back of your neck is not relenting so you remain as you are, with your cheek pressed against the wooden tabletop. 

“Not so eager, darling.” Astarion says with a smug chuckle and if you weren’t so much in need to have him fuck you, you’d reply. However, your own desire right now overrides your wish to tease him further. 

But you fail to obey him. Just a moment after he says those words to you, you feel his two slender fingers slide right into your cunt and you moan, forgetting your promise not to. Astarion’s hand immediately leaves your neck and he smacks your rear, leaving a sharp sting in its wake. 

“I told you to be quiet.” he hisses and you let out a quieter moan but then a louder one when he slaps your rear again. “What did I say, hm?” his tone is harsh but laced with his own evident desire. You know he’s hard if not leaking for you already. “If you’re going to moan like a cheap whore, then I’ll have to fuck you like one.” 

You swallow heavily, your need almost choking you now and you move your head when you hear his movement, but don’t get to look at Astarion standing behind you. You just feel him push his fingers deeper into your sopping core and his other hand comes into your view. 

“What are you doing?” you ask, unsure but you hear only a low chuckle before his fingers seek out your lips.

“Open, my precious spawn.” he commands and you nearly moan again but part your lips for him, letting his fingers into your mouth. Two of them anchor on your lower teeth and tug at your jaw. “Keep it open for me like that, darling.” Astarion croons and you blush heavier now. He’s not making it easy for you to follow his instructions about being silent as if he wants you to fail. 

With his fingers in place, Astarion begins to move his digits inside of your pussy slowly, teasingly so, knowing very well that you want it harder and faster yet not giving it to you.

“The lesson here is-” Astarion begins speaking, his tone sounding like he’s giving a lecture to bored patriars instead of having his fingers buried inside you to the knuckles. “-that you don’t like to listen, do you?” a pause while his fingers keep working, not increasing the pace just yet, and you move your hips, trying to buck them against him but he only laughs at your effort. “Nod instead of acting like a slut worth 5 gold coins.” 

Slowly you nod and can’t help letting out a small moan. You want him to know how badly you need him to do just about anything else instead of only teasing you because if someone came over to the Council room and interrupted you, you’d probably kill them on spot and that would not be a good thing for either of you.

“Oh you’re always so impatient.” Astarion chuckles again and at last, gloriously, his fingers pick up the pace. But he’s not done teasing you. “You act like a little spoiled brat, my beloved consort, acting with no grace or decorum befitting your status. Do you do this on purpose? You like to be punished, don’t you?” he coos again so sweetly that you almost believe he’s going to stop any moment and tell you to pull up your pants. But you know better. You know him better.

To his words you simply nod while at the same time swallowing the saliva beginning to pool in your mouth. Your eyes are still on the door but you don’t see it anymore because all you can see is Astarion’s face and his intense, loving gaze so clear in your mind’s eye even if you don’t see him in front of you right now. You remember it so clearly because you have witnessed that face portray pleasure thousands of times already, every single time you share the joys of intimacy, whether it’s him fucking you senseless or you just pleasuring each other, trying to discover new and unique ways to make one another tremble.

“Good, you’re starting to listen.” Astarion comments and with a disappointed whine you express your disapproval when his fingers leave your core. “Now now, best is yet to come.” he chuckles and you close your eyes, moving your legs and your hips, trying to find better footing in preparation of him claiming you which he does with almost religious fervor every single time. 

Another unexpected slap on your ass makes you flinch and you hum a question.

“I’ll fuck you when I’m ready, I thought I made that clear.” Astarion hisses at you again, then falls silent because you both hear the same thing - footsteps. 

Dread fills you and not because you are afraid to be caught, not at all, you just don’t want this to stop here. You’re so close to getting what you desperately need right now and you do your best to keep quiet instead of expressing your frustration. His fingers on your teeth twitch ever so slightly when the footsteps get closer then stop and you both hear a male voice humming a tune making seconds stretch to eternity making you so sure this is it. But no, seems fortune favors you after all because you hear the footsteps resume, except now they echo away from the Council room.

You exhale with relief and hear Astarion do the same, then he laughs quietly.

“That was close. I hope it’s going to be worth it if we get caught.” 

Your body relaxes on top of the table because you didn’t even realize how tense you became but you sigh again, letting yourself enjoy the thrill of nearly getting caught like this, it almost makes you giddy. And just to remind Astarion where you both stopped, you swing your hips again, only to receive another sharp slap.

“I swear to gods, you’re not leaving this room on your own two legs, darling.” Astarion snaps at you and you chuckle lightly but remain still.

Instead of responding to your chuckle with yet another smack on your already sore skin, he caresses the spot instead, his palm is warm and soft against the burning patch and your eyelids droop. You know he likes to play games but this is starting to become unbearable. Especially with the risk of being walked in on he’s definitely taking his sweet time to toy with you. 

“I think you’re forgetting what this is all about.” your lover begins as if he just read your thoughts. “This is about reminding you who you belong to.” Astarion’s palm keeps caressing but then it leaves your skin entirely, leaving you aching for more of his touch. “And I fully intend to remind you of that.” 

Vampire’s fingers seem to find a better grip on your lower teeth and you feel puzzled for a moment, but then you cry out because he drives his full length straight into you without a warning. 

“How is it that you never listen?” Astarion scolds you but you hear smugness in his tone, he knows exactly what he’s doing to you and the fact that he doesn’t proceed to move is telling enough - it is a punishment, and you’re not enjoying this as much as you thought you would.

You try to buck your hips against him again in a futile attempt to get him thrusting but he just tugs at your teeth and grips your hip with his other hand.

“I’d want to hear you beg but I like when your mouth is busy doing other things.” he says in a tone of voice that tells you he’s enjoying this very much. You mewl slightly in response, trying not to be too loud now just in case he decides to prolong your torture any further but it seems that this time he is satisfied with your response. “That’s much better.” he gives your hip a squeeze and finally begins moving.

You can feel your eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head from relief that you feel right now and the pleasure that envelops your body. Finally. Finally he’s giving you what you want most - himself. And sensation of him filling you at last is divine. It’s everything. It’s familiar, it’s desperately needed and it gives you a sense of being one with him. A feeling no other indulgence in this world can even come close in comparison. 

Astarion’s thrusts begin slow, lazy even, in reminiscence of his teasing earlier and you moan again, wanting him to hurry up, to give it hard and fast - he made his point after all.

“Tell me you will listen to me from this point on.” Astarion’s voice reaches your ears and you nod slightly. “Do you promise to behave?” you nod again but smile too, you know your promises are empty and so does he. It’s not the first time you two perform this dance and it always ends the same. The most delicious cycle you will never tire of repeating. “I could almost believe you.” he laughs but then you feel him lowering himself over you. “Still, pet, if I hear a sound out of you - I won’t hesitate.” the warning is clear even if you don’t know what that entails. You nod once more and have to choke back a moan when he nips at your ear again, his teeth sending another shiver down your body. 

Astarion’s fingers leave your hip and his palm finds its place next to your shoulder, then, after a briefest pause, he picks up the pace. Faster and harder. What started as almost gentle love-making is becoming just fucking and it’s exactly what you wanted. His hips snap against your ass, the room fills with sounds of his skin against yours and you keep your eyes open, once more watching the ajar door as if it’s a threat to ruin your fun. You try to keep silent, you really do, but more and more moans begin escaping your throat with Astarion’s increasing pace until he’s nearly punishing your body with how hardly he slams into you with each thrust. Saliva pools at the base of your teeth and begins dripping down his fingers that are still clinging to your bottom teeth while your fingers try to find a grip on the smooth tabletop.

“Shut up!” Astarion growls right above you and you try to move your head to look at him, but he does not let you because his fingers keep your face pinned to the table. “You want to act like a spoiled little brat, I’ll show you that you can take it only this far.” his tone is not seductive anymore, it’s carnal and deep and you recognize it well - he always loses himself when he’s with you, this time is no different than countless others. It almost makes you grin with satisfaction that you can get this deep under his skin with just a little bit of teasing. 

His trusts assume a punishing pace, one that will leave you sore afterwards and you know it. In fact, you welcome it and try to keep your voice down but fail miserably. You don’t care if anyone comes around anymore, because when Astarion gets like this - you know there’s no stopping him. As you begin to sink into the feeling of pleasure, letting it spread through your body, you suddenly feel your lover’s fingers leave your mouth and wrap around your throat. You only manage to lick your lips before you feel yourself being pulled up, his thrusts not stopping and keeping their pace, but Astarion makes sure that your back is now pressed against his chest. His other hand moves to your folds, sensing with his fingers how he’s moving within you and you feel his grin against your cheek.

“So obedient when filled with my cock.” he says right against your ear and it makes you moan. Your fingers grasp for purchase against the table while Astarion leans his head lower and you feel his fangs in your neck again.

You whine slightly as your head swims from pleasure and you grasp onto his hand that’s still gripping your neck, yet when you do that he releases your throat and moves that same hand to your face, his wrist all bare for you. When he presses it against your lips you pierce Astarion’s skin with your fangs, drinking his blood that tastes sweeter than nectar. Vampire’s fingers still are feeling how his cock is thrusting into your cunt but in a moment or two he moves those digits to your clit and begins rubbing. It’s practiced and you shiver while he pumps himself into you, making sure that you’re fitted on his dick neatly, just like he prefers it. 

And the you hear a whisper again, you didn’t even feel when he pulled back from your neck.

“You’re most beautiful when you’re unraveling on my cock.” he whispers and chuckles. “You’re such a hungry whore when it comes to me, aren’t you?” you nod, you don’t want him to stop but he pulls his wrist away from your yearning mouth and you open your eyes, trying to look at him but not being able to. “Moan for me like the slut you are.” 

And you do. You let your voice fill the room, completely lost in your body being taken by your lover. Lost in the feeling of him claiming you as his and his fingers working you to your bliss. You still grasp onto his arm when he returns his grip to your throat and you let your eyes close once more, smiling when you hear his strained grunts right against your ear. 

“Cum for me.” he orders and you gasp for air because he knows you’re close. 

You hold his arm firmer and lean your head back onto his shoulder, giving into the sensation of your orgasm as it washes over you, letting it overwhelm your mind. You tremble and shudder, not able to focus even though you feel Astarion suddenly stopping his thrusts and just working your clit to let you ride out your bliss. 

“Good girl.” Astarion whispers while you’re still at the height of your ecstasy and you feel him kiss your cheek. “My perfect consort, so easy to please.” he taunts with a grin and you mewl as you begin to come down from your pleasure.

You’re out of breath and you can barely stand straight. You probably would collapse if Astarion wasn’t pressing you against the table. With your body satisfied you are ready to take a moment to recover, forgetting that Astarion still has his lesson on his mind.

“You did well, my treasure.” he coos and you hear that he’s panting too but then he pulls back from you, his hands leave your body and you hurry to support yourself against the table before your legs betray you.

Confused and still dazed you glance at him over your shoulder, finally seeing his face that is sweaty and flushed from all the exertion but his smile is as smug as ever. He raises his hand and with one finger points to the floor.

“On your knees, darling.” he commands and it takes your blurred mind a moment to process the task at hand, but when it does you turn and drop heavily to your knees, looking up at him and trying to understand what is it that he wants you to do.

Astarion smirks and caresses your jaw, his hard cock coming into your view and even without a command you open your mouth for him. Pleased with your willing obedience he grips the base of his length with his free hand while propping your head higher and he traces the tip of his velvety soft tip against your lips, leaving trail of your own arousal in its wake. You lean in trying to capture it with your mouth but Astarion chuckles.

“Tisk tisk, darling. Beg for it.” he taps your lips with his cock and your eyes meet his before you swallow dryly, wanting nothing more than to taste him right now.

“Please, Astarion.” you begin, you were never good at this, but he always tells you what to say.

“Please, my love, let me taste you.” he instructs and you lick your lips, tasting yourself.

“Please, my love, let me taste you.” you repeat carefully but eagerly and Astarion grins wider, satisfied.

“You always obey.” he says smugly as he positions his dick at your lips. The moment you part them for him, he thrusts himself into your wet awaiting mouth, letting your lips clamp around his hard shaft. “That’s much better.” Astarion exhales with satisfaction and you can see it clearly in his face with his eyes clouded from pleasure. “I do like when you talk, but I can’t resist silencing you.” 

His hand tangles in your hair while he’s pushing himself deeper into your throat but he’s careful not to push too deep, almost gentle now, letting you begin to bob your head instead of thrusting his hips against your face. You watch his expression, so beautiful when painted in colors of lust, and it makes you eager to please him. His satisfied smirk remains on his lips and stays there while you keep swirling your tongue against his shaft, feeling the bulging vein with the tip of your tongue, caressing the tip of his cock gently, all while you suck on him with dedication only an eternal lover can show.

“Mind the fangs, darling.” Astarion comments and you have to tame your smile to keep focusing on pleasuring him, but suddenly his grip on your jaw tightens, preventing you from moving your head and he pulls his dick out of your mouth with a wet pop. It looks beautiful in the sunlight cascading from the windows, still glistening from your eager ministrations. “Finish what you started.” he orders and your eyes search his for answers but then you understand what he wants.

This is your lesson. Utter submission. 

And submit you will.

Your hand replaces Astarion’s, gripping his shaft and you begin pumping his cock with your fingers clenched firmly around it while his hand still grips your hair tight enough to keep your head in place as if you would even dream of moving away. No, you want this just as much as he does.

With your eyes locked on him you keep moving your hand, parting your lips wider, watching every micro expression on his perfect features because you know that each and every one of them is meant for you and you alone. 

“Wider.” Astarion gasps, you see his shoulders tensing and you recognize the look in his eyes - he’s so close, he only needs to let go. 

You open your mouth wider, eager and more than willing to make him happy right now, completely forgetting where you are and what you are doing, because nothing else matters besides making sure that he knows that you want this, want him. 

“Fuck, you’re too good.” Astarion gasps and his eyes close the moment his orgasm hits.

His fingers clench almost painfully in your hair and you keep stroking his dick, trying to aim it but his seed ends on your face rather than your mouth, lacing hot webs across your nose and your cheek until you manage to aim it at your mouth and take what’s left. Astarion moans loudly and shamelessly as he empties himself with your help, your hand working to draw every last drop out of him but when he finally looks at you his eyes slightly widen at the sight of mess.

“Darling…” is all he can say for a moment while he’s out of breath, then he moves your hand away from his softening length and leans down, lifting your face ever higher by your jaw he kept holding onto through his ecstasy, then he presses his lips against yours. You only have a moment to gulp down what little of his cum ended up in your mouth and you answer his kiss before he pulls back. He chuckles and wipes his seed from the tip of your nose with his thumb. “I should clean you up before we leave but I can’t help admitting that this is a very lovely sight.”

You smile proudly and grasp at his hand, bringing it closer and giving it a kiss before Astarion helps you to your feet. 

“Here.” he takes out a handkerchief, beginning to wipe your face with a smile on his lips. “I don’t think you learned your lesson.” 

“Maybe I’ll need another reminder later?” you ask with a grin and Astarion raises an eyebrow.

“It’s dangerous to let you out of the palace.” he laughs and you smile even wider now, feeling mischievous again while you let him get your face clean.

“You love it.” you say and tuck him back into his pants while Astarion rolls his eyes at you.

“You say like you don’t.” he comments making you laugh, then you receive a kiss on your cheek. “You did well.” he whispers to you and you smile.

“Oh I know.” you respond smugly and Astarion pauses then sighs as if he’s fed up but you see playful embers in his eyes.

“You’re going to be so much trouble, aren’t you.” he leans down and helps you pull up your pants. You button them up quickly and then grasp at his doublet with a fist, bringing his face close to yours.

“You wouldn’t dare to stop me.” you smile and he grins right back at you.

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”