#PFFTH | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

colormepurplex2 · 2 years ago

Text

Blood Bride | Here Comes The Bride

↳ vampire!Yoongi x human!f.Reader ⤜ Strangers/Lovers | Accidental Marriage ⤜ Rating: MA 🔞 ⤜ WC: 5,449 ⚠️ Blood (drinking, spilling, mild play), hypersexual advances/blood makes you SUPER horny, teasing, kissing, unprotected sex, voyeurism/exhibitionism, creampie. Yoongi has big fangs and an even bigger ego

⇽ Previous Chapter ◅ Back to chapter list

“Let me go, you fucking psyc—“ your shrill exclamation turns into a guttural scream as those blood-stained canines sink into your neck so quickly that all you see is a blur of motion before fire races through your veins. You can feel the way the fangs shred your skin and muscle, parting them with ease.

Your arms and legs go rigid, and your toes curl inside your shoes. It feels like molten rock is being poured down your spine. The intensity only lasts a moment before it’s replaced by a mind-numbing cold.

There is an intrinsic moment where everything goes fuzzy, and blackness creeps into the edges of your vision. The cold fades into a haze of mild tepidity as you feel the sucking pull of your life’s blood being drawn from your neck.

The smell of hot metal and ash fills your nostrils with every panicked breath you manage to suck in. Coppery liquid gurgles up your throat, making you cough. You watch as red droplets mist into the air in front of you, splattering and catching in the glossy strands of black hair falling around the man’s face.

He pulls free from your neck. The crimson completely takes over the brown of his eyes. “Gods,” he pants, blood frothing at the corners of his lips to bubble down and drip from his chin. “Willing blood always tastes the sweetest. Your body wanted to fight me, but deep down, I could feel your heady desire.”

“No,” you protest weakly.

A throaty laugh has more blood slicking along his lips. His blood-coated tongue pokes out, licking at the corners of his mouth. “Deny it all you want, my beloved. You and I both know the ways of your soul. It would have been impossible for you to break that damned hundred-year-old curse otherwise. A curse only broken by a willing sacrifice, just a small prick of blood to seal the wedlock union and release me from my stone tomb.”

You sag heavily against the man’s chest, your body finally giving out. “Please,” you whisper around a bloody gurgle.

“Right, right. Apologies, my beloved. It seems I’m a bit rusty with my gentile manners. Here we go,” he states in a lightly cheerful manner as he adjusts his hold on you to bring one of his own wrists to his mouth. The soft sound of his teeth parting his own flesh is reminiscent of sifting sand. Thick, black blood oozes from the open wounds when he pulls away. That hot metal and ash scent intensifies when he presses it against your gasping mouth. The flavor of his blood bursts on your tongue in a bloom of acrid bitterness that chokes your senses.

“No—pffth,” you gag, trying to spit out the offending substance. The more you struggle, the more that seems to make it into your mouth. You flail your arms and kick your legs as best you can but only manage to get your free hand clutched into the silky material of the man’s shirt and a knee pressed firmly against one of his thighs.

An involuntary swallow takes down a mouthful of blood. It settles in the pit of your stomach like lead. “You’re fucking crazy!” you exclaim, finally wrenching your mouth away as you try to twist out of the hold you’re in. “J-ji-min!” Your tongue feels thick, and a new warm sensation begins to set in, deep in your chest.

You continue to struggle, your eyes catching a glimpse of Jimin’s crumpled body now lying against the wall beside the stand lamp. The camera he was filming with is shattered into bits, scattered between where he was standing and where he is now.

“Jimin? Is that the name of the gift you brought me? What a thoughtful wedding present.” A dark chuckle follows. It sends that warm sensation careening south, compounding into a startling throb between your thighs.

“Oh god,” you gasp. Your body involuntarily tries to curl in on itself. The arms holding you let loose, and you crumple, hitting the dirty stone floor hard. “What’s happening to me?” You can’t help the anguished cry that comes with that question as you clutch at your chest and stomach. It feels like you’re being twisted from the inside out. Your heart gives a few more pitiful beats before seizing up in a painful cramp.

The man steps off the marble block, tutting softly. He crouches down beside you, resting an elbow on a bent knee with his chin in his upturned palm, his other hand reaching out to finger a sweaty piece of hair clinging to your forehead. “It’ll be over soon, my beloved. Did you not read the inscription?” he muses with a smirk on his face, nodding toward the front of the marble block. “It’s fairly clear, wouldn’t you agree? Silly me not to think someone might misunderstand, I suppose. You see, once I reached my one-thousandth year, it was imperative for me to take a bride per the rules set forth by the Grand Elder. Well, obviously, that did not pan out, as you may surmise. My sire thought me entirely too selective and prideful. The punishment for my reluctance was that my coven and I were entombed here until a willing offering became my bride themselves.”

As if to punctuate his statement in agreement, the three coffins rattle again. “I don’t…” you try to deny or reason with him, but the pain magnifies, and you can feel your heart squeezing even more, to the point you’re sure it has stopped. Cold fear curdles in your stomach like ice against the fire that’s kindling below it.

“They’re impatient,” he chuckles. “We can not blame them, though, can we? Just a moment, my beloved, I must see to my court. You will be fine. The discomfort has almost passed.”

The stone is rough against the side of your face as you writhe and groan in agony. Your lungs ache, and no matter how deeply you breathe, you feel like you’re slowly suffocating. The blackness curtaining your vision begins to recede, giving you a clear view of the man walking over to the first coffin. The swagger in his step and utter indifference to your plight has your upper lip curling in a silent snarl.

A slight grin curls the corner of the man’s lips as he turns and perches on the coffin lid. It gives another rattle, which makes the man chuckle and pat the top. Those blood-red eyes lock onto yours. With his free hand, the man crooks a finger at you, beckoning you toward him.

“Fuck you,” you hiss, sucking in a sharp breath as the pain in your chest flares before it subsides to a minor ache. Your breath wheezes out and then stops, your lungs seeking no relief with an inhale. “What have you done to me?!” You shove onto your knees, patting your chest and throat, frantically seeking to feel your heartbeat or pulse. Nothing responds under your probing fingers.

“Now the fun begins,” the man says, his grin kicking up a notch. “In three…two…”

“Oh,” you moan, throwing back your head and squeezing your eyes shut at the intense throb that vibrates between your thighs. You can feel your body squeezing and pulsing with subtle aftershocks that remind you of a fleeting orgasm. You can’t help the trembling plea that warbles from between your lips, “Please.”

The man huffs a soft laugh. “Come, sweetling, help me with my friends. It seems there is something in my way; and then I’ll help you.” Another rattle comes from the coffin he’s seated on. “Yes, yes, my friend, I hear you.”

It feels like an internal switch flips. You only want the man sitting casually a few feet away from you. Your pupils blow wide, making you blink rapidly as saliva pools under your tongue. The taste of him, ash and hot metal, is palpable. You lick your lips and start towards him, headless of the rock debris that bites at your knees and the palms of your hands. Crawling like this should be degrading, but that awakened primal urge is more potent than any desire to retain your self-respect.

Every movement you make has the need burning inside you hiking higher. By the time you’re kneeling in front of him, you’re panting, and a light sheen of sweat coats your neck and forehead. “I need you,” you whine, gripping handfuls of the thick linen material of his pants and pressing your face against his inner thigh. You inhale deeply, savoring the sultry and warm scent of hot metal and ash.

Slender fingers gently thread through your hair, calming at first, but then a fistful is gripped tight, and your head is pulled back. “Be good for me, and I’ll be good for you.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes from the stinging pain from how tight your hair pulls at your scalp. “O-okay,” you mewl.

The sound of electrical static emits from your back pocket before Taehyung’s voice is muffling through the denim of your jeans, “Everything okay down there? Could have sworn I heard a loud crash and a scream.”

You fumble with shaking fingers to get the walkie out of your pocket. It nearly slips between your fingers, but you manage to cling to it.

“What sorcery is this?” Yoongi sneers at the device. “A warlock in your pocket?”

You shake your head vehemently. “It’s just a walkie-talkie! If I don’t say something, then my other friends will come looking for me.”

“Say what you need. Be mindful that I will have no qualms disemboweling a fiend if I have to.” There is a biting edge to Yoongi’s words and you can see the promise in his eyes. At this moment, though, you’re certain you’d do anything to please him if only so he will give you the relief you so desperately need.

“T-tae, everything is okay,” you pant after clicking the radio button. “I just, um, I fell down, that’s all.”

“Roger that. See you in an hour,” Taehyung responds then the lines go silent.

“Good girl,” Yoongi praises, his sneer morphing into a pleased smile. “Now, see this symbol here, sweetling?” He asks, using the hand in your hair to direct your face toward the top of the coffin. The red symbol stands out in stark relief against the darker wood.

“Yes.” The walkie drops from your limp fingers, clattering to the stone floor, forgotten.

��It’s a nasty little thing—combustion charm triggered by those of my kind. I need you to break it—” he holds up a hand when you try to protest “—it’s easy enough to do, as long as you haven’t fully transitioned. It will only burn a little.” The hand in your hair eases, slipping down to cup your chin. A gentle pressure guides you up until you’re standing, bent over, so you’re at eye level with him. “Do this for me, and I will reward you greatly, my bride.”

Your eyes flutter shut as soft, cold lips press against yours. You can feel the distinct shape of those protruding canines through the thin skin of his lips as they press against yours in a barely-there kiss. Hunger blooms inside, sending you forward in a desperate attempt to deepen the kiss. The man indulges you with a chuckle, letting you press your mouth adamantly against his. His lips taste faintly like cinnamon and spice. You greedily run your tongue over their curved shape.

“More,” you plead, pressing your body along the front of his as best you can with him still seated on the coffin. You grip the front of his silky shirt, trying to bring yourself even closer.

“Soon,” he murmurs against your lips. “First, my favor. Grab a shard of stone.” His strong hands grip your arms and force you back a half-step. “I need you to break the enchantment interring my friends. Just a scratch through the symbol should do the trick. Hurry now, sweetling.”

You turn and crouch down to snag up a chunk of stone debris. As you straighten up, your line of sight sweeps over the crumpled body near the bottom of the stairs. “Jimin,” you whisper, your body automatically stepping forward.

“Uh-ah,” the man behind you tuts softly. “We’ll get to your gift in a moment.”

With your attention focused on Jimin, you become keenly aware of a cloyingly sweet smell wafting from his direction. “What’s that smell?” Saliva pools around your tongue again, reflecting the wetness gathering anew between your thighs. “It smells so good,” you whine. Before you can take another step toward Jimin, a hard hand clamps around your arm and hauls you back.

“I forget how hard it is to control the urge at first,” amusement flavors his words. “Scratch through the symbols, sweetling, so I may give you your reward.”

All you want to do is follow that mouth-watering scent or fall into a manic sexual frenzy with the monster sitting atop the coffin. With a frustrated grunt, you lash out at the coffin lid where the man is seated, intent on doing as he says so you can finally get what you want.

The stone in your hand bites through the wood, scoring a deep gouge through the bottom of the red symbol. A spark of heat engulfs your hand and travels up to your elbow. The rock clatters against the lid as you release it with a pained hiss.

“Ow!”

“A momentary pain, sweetling, but you’ve managed to do it. Hurry, strike through the other two while I open this one.” The man nods toward the other two coffins, scoops up the chunk of stone, and presses it back into your hand. “A small taste,” he muses before cradling the back of your head with a hand and bringing his mouth crashing against yours. A low, feral snarl rumbles from deep in his chest as his tongue forces its way past your lips. Warmth blooms inside your mouth as his tongue sweeps against yours, contrasting wildly with the cooling sensation of his lips. “Now, do it!” he grates out, ripping his mouth from yours and shoving you toward the next coffin.

As you lurch toward the next coffin, driven by how your body responds and aches to return to the stranger behind you, you’re faintly aware of the sound of splintering wood and hushed voices.

Scoring the remaining two coffins leaves you clutching your hand, scowling from the burn ignited by the broken enchantments. You’re kneeling by the last coffin, leaning heavily against the side of it with your hand pressed to your chest. “Everything hurts,” you huff aloud to yourself.

Footsteps crunch through the dirt and debris littering the floor beside you. “You’ve done so well. Once Hoseok is free, you’ll have your reward. Not much longer,” the man says, smiling down at you. He raises a fist and slams it down onto the center of the lid. The wood buckles under the force, dust and wood splinters raining around you.

“I ought to shove a fistful of silver down your throat, Yoongi,” comes a snarky voice from within the crumbling coffin. “Do you know how unbelievably dull it has been to be trapped here with only my thoughts? Absolutely maddening.”

“I’d consider it dull company if I were locked away with you, too,” murmurs a voice coming up behind Yoongi. A tall, dark-haired man comes into your line of sight. His grey shirt and linen trousers are covered in smears of dust and specks of wood splinters that he’s dusting off as much as he can. “At least you had room to move around. These coffins were not exactly made for someone of my stature.”

Yoongi glances back, a fond look on his face for the man walking up. “Namjoon, ever the one to speak of the logistics. I am sorry, my friends,” he bends, reaching into the coffin, and comes up with a spritely and slim man gripping his arm. “If I had not been such a fool, we would not have been in this situation.”

“Yet, we were. Though, I suppose, we are free now thanks to your…uh, whatever she is,” the remaining man comes into view, his arms crossed over his chest. He glares at you. The small streaks of dirt on his apple cheeks does nothing to take away from the breathtaking beauty he possesses.

“Seokjin, let us not allow our previous state to color our current one. We do have manners,” the man Yoongi called Namjoon says, giving Seokjin a pointed look before turning an apologetic one on you. “What a dainty little creature, how delicate. I assume you have started the process?” he continues, gazing toward Yoongi.

Yoongi scoffs, continuing to help the last man out of his coffin. “You wound me, friend. I know it has been a while, but you could at least act like you still have faith in me.”

“The last time we placed our faith in you was when you promised to wed Pylia. Yet, look where that landed us,” Seokjin remarks, deepening his glower.

Hoseok waves his free hand in the air, letting Yoongi guide him over the lip of the coffin with the other. “Do not think to bring up that conniving bitch, Seokjin. You know as well as I that she was no good for Yoongi. I would take a hundred more curses of entombment before seeing him attached to that leech. Good to think she is well and rotting in the ground somewhere by now.”

“Please, gentlemen, if you held your bickering a moment, I would like to finalize the bond with my bride,” Yoongi sighs, turning away from the three men and focusing on you. He crouches down, coming eye-level with where you’re still leaning against the side of the coffin Hoseok was in. “Hi, sweetling. Thank you for helping me free my friends. I do apologize for Seokjin’s poor manners, but Namjoon and Hoseok have at least kept their heads over the years, it seems.” A derisive snort comes from behind Yoongi as Seokjin turns and stalks away.

“What’s this?” Seokjin calls, the irritation in his voice replaced by surprise and awe.

Yoongi glances back, peering around the base stone he was interred upon. “Ah, yes, my wedding gift. Come, sweetling. You have met my friends; now let me meet yours.”

His cold fingers wrapping around your arm elicit a soft moan from low in your chest. “Yes,” you suck in a short breath and desperately grab for any handhold you can get of him. Your fingers tangle in his hair and clutch into the material of his shirt again. Before you can lean in and capture his mouth, he’s chuckling and pulling back to stand. You follow him up, your body moving with a mind of its own; your hips press firmly against his side, and your lips find the soft spot of flesh below his ear.

“So eager,” he smirks. “There is but one last step. I am sure you will enjoy this as much as we will.” He ushers you as best he can, with you still clinging to him and nuzzling at his throat toward the far side of the room back to the staircase leading up.

You’re so focused on how his body moves against yours; the friction and rub of fabric along your skin with each step you take elicit small sighs of pleasure from you. There is a moment when awareness ebbs through the cloudy haze of lust filling your head when your senses register something else, something subtly familiar. A tangy sweetness permeates the air the closer you come to the stairs.

“Mmm,” you moan, mouth-watering as you finally relent and lift your head from Yoongi’s neck. “What is that?” you whisper huskily.

“That, sweetling, would be what you called ‘Jimin’.”

That name lands like a swift kick in the gut. “What? Oh no, Jimin!” You shove away from Yoongi, quickly untangling yourself and dropping to your knees beside the slumped form of your best friend.

“Careful now,” Yoongi chastises. “You are in a heightened state of being. Getting too close without the proper control could trigger a blood frenzy, and then, well, you may hurt the poor fellow even more than he seems to be already.”

The hand you had suspended in the air as you were reaching for Jimin drops immediately to your side. You don’t want to hurt him. “Help him, please.”

Yoongi kneels on one knee beside you, his dark red eyes roving over Jimin as if in assessment. “Only you can help him now, sweetling. I can hear his heartbeat, but it is quite faint. There is not much time. Here,” he says, gently shifting Jimin’s body, so it comes to rest face-up, “be swift.” Jimin shudders slightly, his eyes moving rapidly behind his closed lids. Blood covers half his face and plasters his hair to his forehead.

You suck in a ragged breath that brings that tangy sweet smell into your lungs. An ache throbs in your jaw and echoes between your thighs. “What can I do?”

“Just a bite,” Yoongi whispers, “to start a new adventure for you both.” He delicately lifts Jimin’s arm, twisting it, so his wrist is presented to you. “I know you want it. I can feel the change in your breathing and smell the arousal now beginning to seep from your body.”

A full-body shudder racks through you as you fight the urge to latch onto Jimin’s proffered wrist. Your eyes water and you subconsciously drift closer, stopping when your lips brush against the warm skin along the side of Jimin’s arm.

A soft, tantalizing thrum beckons just below the surface of Jimin’s skin. It’s so faint that you’d missed it before, but now being so close, it’s like a siren’s song mournfully drifting on a warm summer breeze.

“Just bite him already,” someone sighs from behind you, clearly disgruntled. There is a hint of aggression in the voice that has all your receptors firing at once. Your instinct surges to the surface, replacing any hesitation that remains.

Ecstasy spills on your tongue as your teeth sink into the soft flesh held daintily between Yoongi’s slender fingers. The ache in your jaw coalesces into sharp points; you can feel your canines elongating and piercing further into the meat of Jimin’s wrist.

“That’s it, beloved. You’re doing so well. Focus on the way his heartbeat feels against your tongue. The moment it stops, you have to also stop,” Yoongi murmurs encouragingly in your ear. You can feel his body pressed against yours. His free hand slides under the back of your shirt, and surprisingly, it’s not nearly as cold as it was before. It’s actually quite pleasant.

He rubs a slow circle on your lower back, and then his hand slides around until it rests on your lower belly. Yoongi shifts so he’s kneeling behind you, his knees to either side of your body. Soft lips press against the juncture where your neck meets your shoulder, placing featherlight kisses.

You suck in a mouthful of Jimin’s blood, letting it slide down your throat with a slow swallow. Yoongi slides his fingers down, flirting with the top of your jeans before teasing beneath the fabric in playful flits and caresses. You shudder against him, nearly ravaging Jimin’s wrist.

You’re faintly aware of Namjoon kneeling down on your other side. The other two men are but small presences that register somewhere behind you. It’s easy to feel the moment Jimin’s pulse ceases. “I will take care of it from here,” Namjoon says lightly, holding out his hand in front of you.

“Let go,” Yoongi instructs, his voice laced with authority and husk. You reluctantly pull off Jimin’s wrist, letting it flop into Namjoon’s waiting palm. “Good girl.”

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up, and a chill ripples down your spine. “Fuck,” the curse is liquid on your lips, bubbling with the blood now dripping down your chin. It turns into a ragged moan as Yoongi’s fingers dip even further and press against the front of your panties.

“Do we really have to stay here while he fucks her?” comes the same disgruntled voice from before. “I would much rather go find my own warm body to sink into.”

“Hush, Seokjin,” Hoseok admonishes. “I am sure the two heartbeats I can feel upstairs will satisfy you once Yoongi is done here. There is a process to these things, you know that as well as I.”

“Hoseok is right,” Namjoon says matter-of-factly. He gathers Jimin’s limp body in his arms. You watch as he brings one of his wrists to his mouth, and much the way Yoongi did to you, he opens the skin with his fangs—which are shorter than Yoongi’s you note—and presses the oozing wounds to Jimin’s lips.

Jimin’s body convulses, his eyes spring open and swivel until they land on you. They go wide as he takes in the sight of you slouched against Yoongi with his hand shoved down the front of your pants. Jimin tries to speak, flailing in Namjoon’s arms, but from under your lowered lids you see the moment Namjoon’s blood triggers something inside of him.

“Fuck!” Jimin finally jerks his mouth away from Namjoon’s wrist. He writhes, twisting in the other man’s lap. “What have you done to me?!”

“He’s feisty; how cute,” Yoongi murmurs softly. “What a wonderful gift, indeed. Jimin, right? Well, what we have done is allowed you to join my sweetling here in a lifetime of eternal power and glory. You are now a part of my coven.” Pausing in his explanation, Yoongi finally pushes your panties aside and delves his fingers into your wet slit. “Oh, that’s wonderful,” he crows, laughing as you moan loudly and thrust your hips forward to force his fingers deeper. “Mmm, I am sure that by now you are feeling the effects of Namjoon’s blood. A mild side effect of the vampire venom, but a wonderful attribute if I do say so myself.”

“I need you,” you plead, trying to twist around in Yoongi’s arms and seek further pleasure.

“Stop touching her!” Jimin yells, drawing your attention back to him.

“Minnie, chill out. Isn’t this what you wanted? For my vampire fantasy to come true?” you snarl the last part, baring your newly elongated fangs at him.

Jimin groans, the sound is slightly pained. “Oh, holy hell, what’s happening to me?” Namjoon loosens his hold enough that Jimin rights himself and ends up sitting between Namjoon’s knees.

“Shh, you are entirely too pretty to have such a sour look on your face,” Namjoon coos, wrapping his arms around Jimin again. He intentionally places one of his big hands on Jimin’s belly, letting his fingers splay out across the flat expanse. “Just watch as Yoongi takes care of his bride, then I will take care of you, I promise.”

Yoongi slips his hand from inside your pants, much to your disappointment. His nimble fingers had only just begun stroking languidly over your clit, barely scratching the surface of the desire and ache that has been burning inside you since the moment he exploded from his stone prison and sunk his fangs into your neck.

“Don’t stop,” you whine, throwing a frantic look back at him.

He chuckles, poking at the tip of one of his fangs with his tongue. “Why, sweetling, I have not yet begun.” You cry out as Yoongi shoves you forward onto your hands and knees, hiking your hips up in the process. “Beg for it,” he growls, shoving his hips against your ass so you feel the very prominent evidence of his own arousal.

“Please, please. Please!” you beg as requested, thrusting your ass out in invitation.

The seams of your jeans groan and stretch with how quickly Yoongi snatches them down. The button snaps and the zipper pops from the force. Red streaks mar your hips and thighs where the rough denim abrades them.

“Stop that! What are you doing?!” Jimin grunts, straining against the hold Namjoon has on him.

Hoseok comes around and kneels beside Namjoon, working his fingers around one of Jimin’s hands. “It is quite simple. They are blood mates and this is one of the more enjoyable points. We will be lucky if they are not coupling once every hour for the entire next moon cycle.”

“Mmm, we shall see how well my self-restraint holds up,” Yoongi muses, a wicked grin tugging at his lips. You feel like you’re burning up, panting to try and get more oxygen into your lungs even though your body no longer demands it. “You are absolutely dripping, sweetling. This cunt looks utterly divine, I look forward to tasting it. But, first—” the drawstrings holding the front flap of Yoongi’s trousers closed slip free under his slender fingers “—your reward, as promised.”

A shuddering moan bubbles from you as he notches the head of his cock at your entrance and firmly kicks his hips forward in one fluid motion. Your mouth gapes open, eyes watering from the intrusion, as your body protests the initial stretch. His hips retreat and surge forward again, setting a relentless pace. Obscene sounds emanate from between your thighs and pour from your mouth.

“Yes!” You rock back into each thrust, surprised and thrilled with the near instant response from your body. Your arousal peaks and you’re left hovering on the precipice of an orgasm. Deep inside, you can feel that all it would take is a command from your body to send you into oblivion.

“Watch close, pretty one,” Namjoon murmurs to Jimin, who is now shamelessly rubbing his ass against Namjoon’s crotch. Hoseok is using his hand holding Jimin’s to caress and massage the front of your friend's jeans, which are straining with Jimin’s very apparent erection. “This is what having a blood mate means.”

Yoongi tilts his head back, opening his mouth wide. His fangs glint in the light from the skewed stand lamp before he whips down and buries them into the side of your neck from behind. His hips continue to pound into you, the angle forcing him even deeper. He wraps an arm around your waist and brings the other around and presses the inside of his wrist against your lips. Your body responds on instinct, lips curling back and your own fangs sinking into his flesh.

The taste of sweet nectar explodes on your tongue at the same time as your body locks up in a fit of the most powerful orgasm you have ever experienced. Your vision flickers, ebbing in and out of clarity. “Fuck,” Yoongi growls into your neck, the vibration sending further shocks down your body. You throb and pulse around him, coaxing his own release.

“They can feed from each other indefinitely,” Hoseok says softly, his voice barely carrying over the residual moans and grunts coming from you and Yoongi. “Mated for the rest of their existences.”

“W-will that happen to m-me?” Jimin whines, mouthing at the side of Namjoon’s throat.

“Maybe one day,” Hoseok nods. He encourages Jimin to open his jeans so he can slip his hand inside. “For now, you have us. You are bonded with our coven, a part of our whole. We will give you everything you need. Though, right now you need—“

Hoseok is cut off by the sound of shuffling footsteps coming down the stairs. “Hey, Jimin, you guys okay down there? It’s been over thirty minutes since we were all supposed to meet upstairs.”

“It seems our new friend will be getting exactly what he needs soon,” Seokjin intones, speaking for the first time in a while. He’s lounging against one of the open coffins, arms crossed over his chest as he watches the bottom of the stairs curiously. “I wonder if either of them will scream.”

“I hope you two aren’t fucking,” Taehyung’s voice echoes from the stairs, coming closer. “You guys aren’t answering me on the walkie, and I can’t think of many reasons why you wouldn’t be—“

“What the fuck!” Jungkook exclaims as he and Taehyung come around the final bend in the stairs and see what awaits them.

“Don’t hurt them,” you manage to sigh, barely holding onto consciousness as Yoongi pulls out and cradles your limp body against his.

“Oh, sweetling, we will not hurt them…much.” Yoongi offers a toothy smile to Taehyung and Jungkook, who are frozen at the bottom of the steps, gawking at you and Jimin. “Seokjin, welcome our new friends.”

⇽ Previous Chapter ◅ Back to chapter list

#yoongi x reader #vampire yoongi #yoongi smut #bts smut #yoongi angst #bts angst #bts vampire au #yoongi fanfic #yoongifanfiction #bts imagines #bts yoongi #bangtanwhq

134 notes · View notes