#Vampire x Reader

[nemesyaaa]

kwkkdkskdkzlds omg wish i can find the way to tell how much i loved this but i can't. it was so well-written, the writing fitting exactly the vibes of the movies. i enjoyed every single lines of this and i'm so glad people write for him 🤩🤩‼️

You dare not look up. The feeling of his presence petrifies you, but also arouses you – letting a slick warmth pool deeply between your legs. — no because this is exactly me....

The shadows continue to creep further up your bed, until they reach your feet, which twitch in response. Up, up, up… along your shins. Your skin prickles, and you shiver, doing your best to remain calm. Though he doesn’t touch you, you feel him. You feel every pass of his large hand as it makes its way up your body. His shadow glides over your hip, to your stomach and finally between your plump breasts, coming to a stop over your beating heart. It thumps away like a rabbit’s heart underneath the blackness of his form, and you hear a ragged, strained groan. — i wish i could feel it but damn, i'm screaming

Then, with no warning, it moves down, leaving a cold, lifeless chill in its path like a gust of winter wind. You pant, desperately clinging to what breath you have. All at once, the shadow envelopes the soft, warm mound between your legs and your hands fall to the bed, bracing yourself. You have felt his ghostly touches for countless nights, tasting your body as a lover would, but each time your body climbed the peak, the sensations disappeared. — everything is so good

The front of your nightgown falls apart, revealing your chest to him. With one hand covetously clutching your breast, his mouth opens between your breasts, the slithery coolness of his tongue gliding down along the length of your sternum. As the teeth puncture your flesh, your hands make fists on either side of your body, pulling the sheets into the confines of your palms. He enters you, in more ways than one, and you feel the steady tug of his mouth as he sucks the blood from your veins. Warmth pools in the cave of your stomach. — ‼️‼️😙 wish need to be sedated rn

The darkness is ever-looming, and as your aching cunt ebbs its throbbing, it settles down upon you. You let yourself fall backwards into the abyss, freely. It takes you, wrapping its arms around your tiny frame which is dwarfed by his stature. His mouth breaks free of your bloodied skin with a slick pop. —i need more more more

Into the softness of your skin, you hear him growl, ‘Mine.’ The feeling vibrates against your neck, and your lids flutter shut.— and i'm vibrating too at this point....

sin creeps in ; Nosferatu x Reader

summary: You're plagued by heinous nightmares of a mysterious monster, but you can't help but feel drawn to he who plagues you.

word count & w a r n i n g s: 1.5K | female reader, monster fucking, vampires, vampire sex, bloodplay, biting, drinking blood / blood loss, mentions of death, making out, smut, unprotected sex, mentions of accents, shadow play (fingering)????.

a/n: MAY CONTAIN SPOILERS FOR NOSFERATU 2024! this is just.... listen, I'm not even going to try to justisfy myself. rack up yet another hear me out moment for me. you either understand or you don't. shorter than I wanted it to be, but I needed to get this out and sate my hunger. banner by @/strangergraphics!

↓ full fic under cut! ↓ / playlist here / ao3 link here! / I don’t have a taglist anymore, but please turn on post notifications if you’d like to be notified of future fics!

You awake with a strangled gasp, your hands flying to your throat as your breath gradually returns. The nightmares had roused you, as they had every night, but this time, something lingered. Your room was frigid; the gauzy curtains fluttered in front of the open window like misplaced ghosts, allowing the chill of the night to penetrate your quarters. Everything looks terrifying at night; familiar shapes are transformed into horrible spectres, and your very room feels unknown. Unsafe. 

He is here. For the first time in several nights, you weren’t dreaming – he has come for you.

“I know that you are here with me,” you bravely whisper into the emptiness of your own bedroom. The wind whistled, a familiar sound, but something growled – growled in a language you didn’t speak, but understood. The voice was low, gravelly, and heavily accented. 

Hurriedly, you kick the sheets from your legs. The moonlight pales your skin, washing you in its blanch, bluish tone. Gripping your gown with both hands, you gather it up your thighs, exposing them to the cold. The chill of the wind hits your center, and you hiss through your teeth. Your head drops to your chest, and so does your gaze, watching patiently. At the edge of your bed, a large, slender shadow manifests. Him. 

You dare not look up. The feeling of his presence petrifies you, but also arouses you – letting a slick warmth pool deeply between your legs. 

The shadows continue to creep further up your bed, until they reach your feet, which twitch in response. Up, up, up… along your shins. Your skin prickles, and you shiver, doing your best to remain calm. Though he doesn’t touch you, you feel him. You feel every pass of his large hand as it makes its way up your body. His shadow glides over your hip, to your stomach and finally between your plump breasts, coming to a stop over your beating heart. It thumps away like a rabbit’s heart underneath the blackness of his form, and you hear a ragged, strained groan.

Then, with no warning, it moves down, leaving a cold, lifeless chill in its path like a gust of winter wind. You pant, desperately clinging to what breath you have. All at once, the shadow envelopes the soft, warm mound between your legs and your hands fall to the bed, bracing yourself. You have felt his ghostly touches for countless nights, tasting your body as a lover would, but each time your body climbed the peak, the sensations disappeared.  He comes to you in dreams, always leaving you unsatisfied. Your chest heaves in the night, cold droplets of sweat peppering your decollete and breasts. Your hands claw the sheets while you dream, but never reach euphoria.

Tonight, there are new sensations. The phantom wisp of his middle finger runs along the length of your slit. Grazing it. Somehow, you feel his finger part your wet folds, toying with your most sensitive areas. The nonexistent pads of his fingers sweep back and forth over your swelling clit, bringing a spasmodic twitch from each of your muscles. Wanting. Craving. While the sensation lacks the familiar warmth of a living man, it is bountiful with pleasurable feelings – your body responds embarrassingly; your shoulders shudder violently. 

He inhales, a deeply hollow sound. “You desire this… thine own body craves it….” 

The accent seems to fill his entire mouth, rumbling in his throat as he speaks slowly, drawing out each word like an incantation. You let out a plaintive moan, throwing your head back against the pillows, the down feathers crackling underneath you. As though he’s still pleasuring you, your hips writhe back and forth, practically convulsing with need. The shadow of his hand is gone from your body, replaced by the looming darkness of his physical form. After a moment of trepidation, you finally lift your head, and stare into the dark, terrifying eyes that watch you. 

You swallow hard. “I do.” 

A moment passes before you continue. “Take me as you will, for I am yours.” You consent again, desperate to convey your own insatiable hunger, your unimaginable need. 

Another intake of breath from him – it almost sounds labored, painful. His footsteps are dreadful as he moves around to the side of your bed. He’s tall, his form stretching towards the ceilings and towering over you, consuming your atmosphere as he had in your nightmares. His silhouette is large; enhanced by the countless furs he has on.

Weightlessly, his lithe, ghastly fingers reach for you and make contact with your form. They are cold, and the icy feeling of them penetrate the thin fabric of your nightgown. He moves gradually, but hungrily, feeling the curves of your body beneath the cotton. As he moves southward, his fingers skim over the peak of your breast, a nail catching on the swollen nipple. It hurts, but your chest jerks forward still, craving more of his touch. 

Pulling a breathy moan from deep within your throat, his long, sharp nails rake across the tender flesh of your thigh. It’s bathed in the silvery moonlight, which casts horrible, elongated shadows of his fingers down towards your center. He scrapes downward, his middle finger digging into the flesh enough to leave a reddened streak behind, but not so much to break the skin.

“P-please…” you mewl, looking up into his horrifying visage. The sight of him fills you with dread and disgust, but like a single drop of blood in water, it’s tainted with something else, something else that has been lingering in your system for days. 

He’s above you now, though you don’t remember seeing him move atop of you. Still, he’s there. The bed creaks as you push yourself into the mattress, whimpering underneath him. He lowers himself down onto you, the brush of his mustache tickles your face as he lingers above you. A second passes and his waiting mouth envelops yours. He tastes damp and cold, faintly of ash and earth. His tongue slips out and it too is cold, slipping wetly along your own and along your bottom lip. His kiss is dreadful, but possessive, and he inhales each time you exhale, as though he’s trying to suck the very warmth out of you. No man has kissed you the way Count Orlok kisses you, and the chill of the room disappears, snuffed out by the fire that rages in your lower abdomen. 

Your tongues collide with each other; you tasting his lifelessness, and him tasting your utterly intoxicating, vibrant liveliness. For a moment, the two of you stay intertwined at the mouth until he separates himself, smearing his mouth over the warmth of your neck. He hovers, pausing over your pulse. It thrums under his lips, and his hips urge into yours, indicating his hunger.

There is a shuffle, a rustling of clothing. You try to lift your head up to gaze between your bodies, but his hand holds you fast, pressing you against the pillow. The size of his hand is staggering; his palm underneath your chin, while the fingertips extend past your hairline, into the strands. You shudder again and whisper his name. He inhales as though he plans to speak, but doesn’t. 

The front of your nightgown falls apart, revealing your chest to him. With one hand covetously clutching your breast, his mouth opens between your breasts, the slithery coolness of his tongue gliding down along the length of your sternum. As the teeth puncture your flesh, your hands make fists on either side of your body, pulling the sheets into the confines of your palms. He enters you, in more ways than one, and you feel the steady tug of his mouth as he sucks the blood from your veins. Warmth pools in the cave of your stomach.

The fingers of his other hand crawl up your shoulder, and like a quill in ink, he dips the pads of his fingers into the hollow of your chest, coating them in your crimson essence. He smears the blood along your decollete, along the hem of your nightgown, tugging it harshly over your shoulder. The blood coats you in a flash of warmth, and then chill as it meets the cold air. 

His hips rut against yours as he drinks, the pulse of your blood matching the thrust of his hips. An ache starts in your neck, a slow pulling sensation that has your eyelids fluttering. He moves within you, his length penetrating as deeply as his sharpened teeth have. Your release is found amongst blood and groans and that same language which you understand, but do not speak. His tongue scrubs at your soft skin, lapping up the blood as it comes… as you do. 

The darkness is ever-looming, and as your aching cunt ebbs its throbbing, it settles down upon you. You let yourself fall backwards into the abyss, freely. It takes you, wrapping its arms around your tiny frame which is dwarfed by his stature. His mouth breaks free of your bloodied skin with a slick pop.  Into the softness of your skin, you hear him growl, ‘Mine.’ The feeling vibrates against your neck, and your lids flutter shut.

[bunnis-monsters]

Under the mistletoe with your fav monsters!

-🩸

Bee hybrids

-prepare for a frenzy of kisses and tongues on your face and neck.

-some of them prefer to have their own separate kiss with you, but most are fine smothering you in kisses with the others

-they taste like honey and cinnamon!

Cow/Bull hybrids

-the bull hybrids are aggressive with their kisses, often pushing you against the nearest wall and devouring your mouth

-cow hybrids are more subdued. They hold onto your waist and their tails wag excitedly as their lips meets yours

-they taste like grass kind of

Puppy Hybrids

-OH BOY they’re excited.

-they definitely slobber all over you before you can even get them close enough for a kiss

-there’s lots of tongue and some teeth, they just get so excited that they forget how to kiss you for a moment and end up nipping your lips

-tastes… kind of unpleasant honestly

Elves

-will get a bit flustered when you mention that you’re both standing under a mistletoe.

-he’ll hold your face in your hands, staring down at you with an unreadable expression before leaning forward and kissing you.

-they taste like earl gray tea

Vampires

-they smirk when you mention the mistletoe(they’re the ones who put it there)

-are eager to kiss you, they really wanna feel your warmth and are a bit desperate(it’s cute tho)

-omg… the worst about biting your lip while kissing.

-they taste like blood lol

———————

NSFW TAGLIST: @avalordream @icommitwarcrimes @bazpire @im-eating-rn @anglingforlevels @kinshenewa @pasteldaze @yoongiigolden @peachesdabunny @murder-hobo @leiselotte @misswonderfrojustice @dij-ology @i8kaeya @lollboogurl @h3110-dar1in9 @keikokashi @aliceattheart @mssmil3y @namjoons-t1ddies @izarosf1833 @healanette @lem-hhn @spufflepuff @honey-crypt @karljra @zyettemoon1800 @exodiam @vexillum-moeru @imperfectlyperfectprincess1 @enchantedsylveon @mysticranger575 @readeryn68 @danielle143 @kittenlover614 @filthybunny420 @annavittoria-mm @makimamybelovedwife @blubearxy @omglovelylaila @toocollectionchaos-universe-blog @fruk-you-usuk-fans @wil10wthetree @hammerhead96-blog @slightlyusedfloormat @bubblez-blop @sunshineangel-reads @heroneki-neko @soapybabyboop @anonymouskiwi

[multific]

A Light in the Darkness

Count Orlok x Reader

Summary: In need of shelter you find an abandoned castle. Or at least you thought it would be abandoned.

The storm was ruthless, a howling windstorm that tore through the forest and drenched you to the bone.

You’d been travelling to the next village before the weather turned, but now, with no end to the storm in sight, you desperately desired shelter as you shivered.

A flicker of light through the trees caught your eye, and as you got closer a castle came into sight.

It towered above the forest like a sentinel of despair, its rough silhouette framed by flashes of lightning.

Hesitant but with little choice, you made your way to the massive door and knocked, your hand trembling as the sound echoed through the building.

The door creaked open, revealing a tall, lean figure.

The man, if he could be called that, stood in the shadows, his pale skin almost glowing against the darkness. His eyes, sunken but piercing, fixed on you.

“What brings you here?” he rasped, his voice as cold as the wind.

“I... I need shelter,” you stammered, clutching your cloak tighter. “Just until the storm passes.”

He seemed to consider this, his lips curling into something that was neither a smile nor a sneer.

“You would be wise to turn back. This place is not safe for someone like you.”

“I have nowhere else to go,” you said firmly, though your heart pounded in your chest.

With a sigh, he stepped aside.

“Very well. But do not say I didn’t warn you.”

The interior of the castle was just like its exterior, dark, cold, and filled with an eerie silence.

You couldn’t help but shiver as he led you up a couple steps to a small sitting room.

“I’ll find you something dry,” he muttered.

You watched as he walked away before disappearing into the shadows.

As you waited, uneasiness lurked up to you.

Something about him was deeply unsettling, and yet, there was an odd charm to his presence.

When he returned, his demeanour shifted.

He spoke little but watched you intently, his gaze flicking toward you whenever he thought you weren’t looking.

But you were and you noticed.

As the night continued on, his warnings became more insistent.

“You should leave at dawn. This place... it is not meant for you.” he said suddenly, his voice low and urgent.

It held a lot more darkness than before.

His tone was enough to send a shiver down your spine, and as you backed away from him unfortunately for you, your foot caught the edge of a step.

With a cry, you tumbled backward, pain flashing in your ankle as you landed.

He was at your side instantly, his movements unnaturally fast.

“Foolish girl,” he muttered, though there was no malice in his words. He knelt beside you, his long fingers hovering near your injured ankle. “I told you to be careful.”

“I didn’t mean to- You scared me.” you began, but your voice stuttered as pain shot through you.

“Don’t move,” he ordered. “You’ve injured yourself.”

Knowing that you couldn't leave with such an injury, he carried you to a room. It was old and very dusty but it had a bed.

At least you weren't freezing outside.

At least he didn't throw you out.

For the next few days, he tended to you with surprising gentleness. Though he rarely spoke, his actions revealed a quiet care that softened the fear you had felt before.

He brought you meals, ensured the fire never went out and constantly checked on your leg.

You did notice that he disappeared during the day. Locking his room to ensure you won't get in.

But during the night, he came out. As soon as the sun disappeared, you heard his door creak open and his footsteps carried him down the hallway.

As the days turned to weeks, the tension between you changed.

You found yourself drawn to this mysterious man, and he seemed less intent on pushing you away.

One evening, as he sat across from you, his eyes lingered on you longer than usual.

“Why are you so kind to me?” you asked softly as you continued your dinner.

He hesitated, his long fingers curling around the armrest of his chair.

“Because I caused your pain, I scared you,” he admitted. “And because... you remind me of something I thought I had lost.”

“What’s that?” you whispered.

“Light,” he said simply, his voice barely audible.

Your heart ached at his words, and without thinking, you reached out to take his hand. His skin was cold, but he didn’t pull away.

You took that as a good sign.

“You’re not as frightening as you think,” you said, smiling.

“I’ve spent centuries convincing others I am.” he replied. "Now eat up and go to bed." he replied before he stood from the table and left.

He never ate a bite.

In the days that followed, you began to see a warmth in him, one he tried to hide but couldn’t entirely.

He started smiling more, given that his smile was faint and barely noticeable if you blinked at the wrong time.

His eyes also softened with time whenever they met yours.

On the final night of your stay, as you prepared to leave, he stopped you in the doorway while you were packing your bags.

“You don’t have to go,” he said, his voice quiet but firm. “This castle has been dark and cold for so long. But since you arrived, it feels... alive.”

"Only the castle? Is that why you want me to stay?" Tears welled in your eyes as you stepped closer to him.

He cupped your face with surprising tenderness, his sharp nails carefully avoiding your skin.

“You’ve given me something I thought I’d never feel again,” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “It is not only my castle that needs you. I need you, Love. Will you stay here with me?”

"Yes. I will stay here with you."

Before you could say anything else, he leaned in, his lips brushing yours in a kiss that was gentle and full of emotions.

A kiss that was filled with both said and unsaid words.

From that day on, the castle no longer felt like a place of shadows. Together, you filled it with light, warmth, and love.

Taglist: 

@castellandiangelo @imagines-by-a-typical-fangirl @manduse @jacalineiscomingforyou

@mandoloriancookie @deliciousfestsalad @lilliumrorum @asgards-princess-of-mischief  

@fallout-girl219 @dracaryxzs @snowtargaryen 

@mel-vaz @akamitrani @ange-olras @nicholaschavezslut69

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[ameliathornromance]

2024 Masterlist - Thank you for 2024!

Orcs:

For when you're down

Orc Boyfriend teaches you to swing a sword

A Whole New World

Rain, Rain, Rain

Your Orc is Jealous

Star Gazing with your Orc

You get separated during a Raid

Orc reacts to you bringing back a baby

Your baby is now grown (Part 2 to above)

Orc brings back Deer for Pregnant reader

Travelling Orc Headcanons

You and your Orc go travelling

Your Orc comes back injured

You come back to the camp injured

You give your Orc Bf flowers

Orc Boyfriend is sad you had to go away for a little while

Orc cuddles

Bullet Train Inspired Orc x Reader

Orc BF prepares a surprise for you

Orc x Gardener!Reader

Ex Orc BF only just realises what he lost...

The Sleeping Picture Revenge

You catch your boyfriend cheating PT1

You catch your boyfriend cheating PT2

Orc x Vampire!Reader

A Misunderstanding

"I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

Monsters with Pets

New Father Orc x Reader

Blueberry Lady

Unrequited Love

The Other Woman

Stretch Marks

Vampires

Life with your Vampire Headcanons

You attend a vampire masquerade

Monsters with Pets

Miscellanious Monsters

Dragon X Reader

Siren x Reader

[twistedpartywolf]

Yall I’m dead. See ya

Love it!!!

omg i have a request... like a scenario type with vampire mercs (norm or yandere i dont mind either) and a vampire hunter s/o? I am THINKING very normally about this hehe

Ahhh, love this! I'm so weak for all things vampiric and gothic, but in general I keep my requests 4 characters max. Sorry if this is so few, but I'd prefer to really go in depth with a few than to shallow-ly touch on all the mercs, (with very rare exception) but you're free to asks for others when requests open back up,. I hope you're ok with the characters I chose to feature here! :) (Also note, I refer to demo and Engie as living with demons who, for the sake of the story are meant to stand in for Medic's medical equipment/weapons and Engie's machines respectively.)

Characters: Demo 🐏, Engie 🦫, Heavy 🐻 and Medic 🕊️ (Team Fortress 2)

Rating: M (MINORS DNI)

Word Count: 2.6k

MASTER LIST

TIP JAR

(Song Inspo- See the Light, Ghost)

Medic

One of the elders of the vampires Medic's all too familiar with your type. He's been targeted by countless hunters over the years and managed to survive every encounter. He was never shy about killing and feeding and made many enemies with humans over the centuries. No one's managed to kill him yet though he had to admit you came closer than any he had remembered before. But Medic felt far more shaken than usual, discovering the demons you slaughtered to get to him.

He'd always been so fascinated by mortals and loved pursuing them at night, to watch the precious fear which tempted him onward before overpowering his victims with his enhanced strength. As a powerful, supernaturally charged vampire, he hardly considered mortals much of a threat, just a bit of a challenge keeping him from his next meal. When he was transformed into a vampire, he was blessed with a mystical charm, the ability to hypnotize humans who let their guard down around him and compel them to do as he pleased. Many vampires possessed the power of "suggestion," but Medic brought this to a new level. Typically he'd use this charm to instigate things to get mortals alone in a vulnerable, more suggestive state of mind before going in for the kill. Luring and stalking his victims just long enough to know what they feared and desired most, using that to his advantage.

Unlike so many misanthropic vampires, Medic was quite captivated by humans; he was turned into a vampire ages ago and, under the conditions of how he was turned, forgot all about what his life was before he became a vampire.

He regrets the lack of memories of his time among the living but tries his best to make up for it by learning all about humans in their lives now and is quite fickle in this regard. Finding a new obsession every time he dwells among the living to feed. His obsessions come and go as soon as he has his fill. It wasn't until he met you that he genuinely felt like he had met his match.

Not physically, of course; his sparring matches with you were more to stave off his boredom and for amusement than to actually try and kill you, but still, you had his attention all the same.

Sure, if he really wanted to best you, he could compel you to obey his sinister will and eliminate you in a matter of minutes, but where was the fun in that? You were prey unlike any he knew before, and he wanted to give you a violent and gruesome end worthy of the time the two of you shared together.

What Medic wants more than you under his total control is for you to come to him of your own volition. He wouldn't dare try to corrupt a mind so sharp and captivating as yours. While he dreams of being the one to deal your killing blow, he can't help but imagine how charming it would be for you to join his side. To become one with him, living in the night as his mate. Until then, this little ongoing battle would have to do.

Medic deluded himself into believing all your fighting and animosity was your unique way of trying to get his attention. Like you were only acting out because you were jealous of the others he spent his time with and fed upon.

You were so precious to him, and truly loved him deep down. You merely had an unconventional way of showing it. Medic would be the type to see you getting ganged up on by other monsters before jumping into action to save you, tearing the vile creatures to pieces, covering the two of you with the gore, only to stroke your hair and comfort you afterward. To ensure that you are all right and don't sustain any damage. He'd hold you tenderly in his arms as though cradling a baby bird while he whispered,

"The only one who gets to kill you is me. Is that understood?"

Heavy

Heavy has been out on his own for so long now, living in his eternal purgatory in isolation. He doesn't remember much of the past. It hurts too much to try and remember what he once had. But he knew he gave his life to protect his family from a vampire ages ago. Though in a cruel twist of fate, he managed to survive the attack only to wake up cold, alone, and ravenously hungry.

Unlike some vampires, Heavy had to slaughter a living creature every night to sustain this unbearable hunger. It wasn't exactly that he felt guilty for killing more that this was all a part of the balance of nature. It wasn't his fault he was so large, so capable of killing. The fact of the matter was that Heavy needed an awful lot of blood to survive, and it was the job of smaller prey creatures to provide for him.

So long as he mostly kept to himself, Heavy wouldn't worry about anyone bothering him, and he wouldn't bother anyone else. Animal blood kept him alive well enough, even if he gave into temptation, slaughtering masses of human livestock in a bout of gluttony, so long as he didn't drink from the living, everything was fine.

The fact that you managed to hunt him down and tried to target him in the first place was quite curious. He couldn't understand why one so small would bother trying to pick a fight with him of all vampires.

Heavy forgot how long he'd gone without interacting with another intelligent lifeform, and you caught him completely by surprise the first time you ran into him. It hurt all over again, remembering how long he'd been alone. How long it'd been since he'd seen the last of the family he knew as a living mortal, he tried so hard to forget for centuries, but you wouldn't let him.

When he was a younger vampire, he was so cruel and bitter, taking his frustrations out on his food, tearing whatever poor creature was his dinner that night to shreds leaving trails of carnage behind, but now he was more efficient. Though it still required a great deal of blood to sustain a creature of his size, he wasn't so careless anymore. Encountering you was a break from the regular routine it had been sometimes since he met prey that managed to put up such a fight.

While he wasn't blessed with otherworldly charms or powers of hypnosis, his already powerful physical abilities were somehow the only things amplified by vampirism, and trying to take you in a fight felt cruel. But if this was a fight you wanted to pick, he supposed he had no choice but to satisfy you.

At first, he was mainly apathetic to your existence. You were stubborn and hard to kill, but you were still just a tiny human fighting a supernatural entity, and it was only a matter of time before that caught up with you. During a particularly heated battle, you finally slipped up, realizing too late you were out of silver arrows and defenseless when you felt his hands drawing around your neck. But when he finally got close for the first time in his life, Heavy decided to spare his prey. And just a moment away from dealing the killing blow, he hesitated, halting for long enough for you to escape.

Later that day, he lay restlessly wondering where this change of heart came from and couldn't stop himself from dreaming about what it would be like to take you under his wing. Thinking about sharing a more domestic, peaceful life with you. In his eyes, you were the last remaining tether he had to the human world, and killing you would sever that bond for who knows how long.

He dreamed of harnessing your fiery human spirit, training you to work at his side, and showing you how to hunt from the shadows, creeping silently and evading human attention.

From then on, he'd be anticipating your arrival. Wondering if it was wiser to jump right into the action and turn you into a vampire the first chance he could or to wait for the hunter to come to him. The time spent awaiting your return was agony, painfully aware of his loneliness while you were no doubt back home, licking your wounds, hopefully regaining your strength enough to rechallenge him. He desperately missed the feeling of your warm skin against his cold body, your precious blood pumping away, practically begging for him to take a bite.

Demo

He was a vampire with a fearsome reputation known for his explosive anger and the bloodshed he brought with him. However, the supernatural powers he was blessed with were almost more akin to a werewolf's than a vampire's. Demo was blessed with the gift of rage, the ability to manifest every ounce of his anger and lay ways to whatever poor soul was stupid enough to invoke it.

But it wasn't just rage which captivated Demo, but hedonism in all forms. Unlike many vampires, Demo liked to keep around a few humans to amuse himself with. Not precisely to a consensual agreement, but a mutually beneficial one. He would keep his captives fed and safe, and they would provide him sustenance in return, and it wasn't long until the hostage began to grow comfortable and compliant. Demo found blood tasted much better when laced with pleasure, far better than fear, and he loved to wait until the last moment, when his captives were comfortable, before draining them of their delicious blood.

Even when Demo feeds from his harem before going in for the kill, the man is well-practiced and knows how to make the feeding sessions as pleasurable for the victim as it is for him.

All this was quite familiar for Demo, humans were easy prey at the end of the day, and even the holiest and most righteous would eventually succumb to the flesh's temptations. The process was familiar, but the pleasure was sweet all the same. When he did have to fight back, it only made the inevitable meal all the more precious. He loved when people played hard to get, and there wasn't a human alive who managed to escape him and his temptations.

You were so adorably feisty and stubborn the first time he crossed you. A cute little mortal who wanted to play Van Helsing, using your little toys of pure silver, holy water, and scriptures to keep him back.

Though Demo was amused, he was impressed at how well you managed to keep him away. After all, holy relics and verses only worked against the supernatural if you really believed and put all your faith into your words calling upon your deity to protect you. You were a fighter, that's for sure, and the way you were so confident God would protect you from demons like him. It was almost enough for him to spare you, but how could he deny himself a feast such as yourself?

Not only were you pious, but you could also physically fight him back, a rare combination greater than any he'd encountered. Most who tried to protect themselves with holy relics would begin to doubt when he really let out his rage, but somehow, you didn't falter. Not even for a moment. It would be an honor to be the vampire who finally managed to conquer your pure heart and turn you into one of his own. The only issue is how hard it would be to catch you.

While your faith appeared, unshakable Demo would still plant seeds of doubt in your mind whenever he could. Promising you pleasures beyond your wildest dreams, endless time to spend pursuing knowledge of whatever you wanted, powerful supernatural abilities you could conjure at will, and trying to use a bit of materialism to sweeten the deal. Promises, more specifically, to convince you to align with him. Demo telling you about how he would spoil you with riches, the most beautiful clothes, the finest of jewels, anything your heart desired would be yours. All you had to do was submit. It was meant to be, so why resist?

Engie

Out of all the vampires, he was the least happy to be sought out by a hunter.

He didn't want to end up like this. He didn't want to kill to survive, and being hunted down by you was just another cruel reminder of how far he'd strayed from humanity and how no matter how hard he wanted it, there was no place left for him among the living.

Furthermore, unlike Medic, who was apathetic to the slaughter of his demons, he felt personally offended as he was much more compassionate and personal with the demons who lived with him. Engie hated you before he met you, wanting to kill whoever was responsible for damaging his property slowly and painfully.

But you were far from easy prey. And no matter how hard Engie tries to take you down, you somehow always manage to remain just a touch out of reach. The game of cat and mouse is far less endearing to Engie than it was to any of the other vampires.

Eventually, he became increasingly obsessed with the hunt, spending his waking hours preparing for your next ambush, dreaming about the night he would capture and slaughter you. Avenging all his creations you destroyed before now.

As much as he didn't want to admit it, his obsession with you grew as fervently as the hunt itself, culminating with the day Engie decided to try to stalk you during the daylight. Engie was a younger vampire, native to a sunny climate. He never found sunlight to be as unbearable as it was to other vampires, so long as he didn't linger in direct light. Direct sunlight was unpleasant, but it wouldn't burn him to ashes as it would to elder vampires. The real reason he stayed on his own more was to stay away from crowds and give into a feeding frenzy.

He wasn't prepared to be so taken aback by your human vitality. The freshness of life pumping through you, giving you a rare kind of beauty he never saw from any sort of prey before now. You were nothing less than radiant in the light of the sun, a deity incarnate. Your skin flushed with life, your voice pleasant and calm, and your smile all appeared ethereal as though he had seen you for the first time. Engie never thought he'd see you as anything but a mortal enemy, yet at this moment, he was undone. All his resentment and hostility felt so trivial now. He didn't want your hatred. He wanted your adoration. He needed to have you all to himself, but not to kill.

If he couldn't kill you, he thought it was only just to turn you into a vampire.

Only then would his loneliness and resentment for being a vampire be satisfied, and you would be forced to rely on him to survive the strange new existence. All newborn vampires were fragile, and it wouldn't be hard for him to keep you from running away.

Not to mention the bond shared between vampires and their scion would help do away with all the hatred you held for Engie in life. No matter how hard you thought you hated him, once Engie sank his fangs into you and infected you with his venom, it was only a matter of time until your will crumbled as you gave in to the surreal newfound devotion you developed for your vampire mate. All resistance was futile, your rational mind silenced as your primal vampiric urges began to take over.

[sunnypopoki]

This is some old art I made for a yandere story I was working on, and now I am currently rewriting—I remember I got the idea for this pose from one of those dramatic renaissance paintings. I think I drew this 1 and a half years ago? Maybe two? I can’t remember. Some friends on discord reminded me about this guy and all that recently.

It’s a YANDERE VAMPIRE X CORRUPT PRIEST READER. Honestly I’m a little unsure if I should bring it back so please tell me if any of ya’ll are interested in it, if you just want it here on tumblr or somewhere else.

The vampire is named Linus Wittherson, he’s from Romania and he’s ancient. The reader is from a western town as a priest. These two are from separate worlds fr fr 💀 It was going to be a MALE X MALE story but I don’t know if should change it to MALE X FEMALE or whatnot, or if I should keep it, since I do write both genders.

Anyway idk what to do at this point- tell me, request something, anything. I don’t want to scrap this idea but I’m just unsure of how to go about it…?

[werecreature-addicted]

people are always like "Oh a vampire wouldn't get horny while drinking someone's blood, that's like getting horny while eating a sandwich" and like man have you never had a really good fucking sandwich?

[davinawritings]

How Different Monster Husbands Punish You For Being A Brat

Warnings: Sex, restraints, mentions of biting, mentions of knotting, cockwarming, edging

- Minotaur husband that punishes you by tying your hands behind your back when fucking. He knows how much you like to grab onto his horns when you fuck him and watching you struggle against your restraints pleases him greatly.

- Vampire husband that keeps you on the edge, his cock a slow drag through your wet walls. He bites gently at your neck all night but never sinks his fangs in. As dawn approaches you think he will finally grant you some relief but you are sorely mistaken when he pulls out and leaves you with nothing.

- Orc husband that stretches you out on his big cock but doesn’t let you move at all. No matter how much you cry and apologize, needing him to move, he refuses. Each time you try to move earns a smack to your ass, the skin becoming more raw and inflamed throughout the day. Anytime you finally calm down and start to doze off he gives you one hard thrust, jolting you awake and stimulating you just enough to have your cunt needy again.

- Tentacle monster husband that refuses to fill your cunt but uses his suckers to suction and overstimulate your nipples and clit until they are swollen and sore. The marks will be there for weeks as a reminder for you to behave.

- Dragon husband that hangs you from your lairs ceiling with gold chains, decorated with jewels. He keeps you suspended and at his mercy all day to play with as he pleases, a ruby ball gag keeping you quiet and obedient. His pretty little treasure.

- Werewolf husband that fucks you over and over but refuses to give you his knot. Tears stream down your face as you apologize and beg for it but he just tells you that you need to learn your lesson and brats don’t get rewards.

- Demon husband that binds you in a pentacle and makes you watch as he strokes his thick cock knowing you want nothing more that to taste and fuck it. Ignoring your cries as he releases his cum all over the ground instead of inside you where it belongs.

🖤💕❤️❤️💕🖤

[monstersholygrail]

Vampire bf spooning you in the middle of the night, nuzzling into you so roughly that it causes you to slowly wake up. As soon as he senses you’re not completely asleep, his arms curl around you and he bury’s his face in your neck. Groggily you bare your throat to him, thinking he might be hungry.

But instead he simply whines and cuddles in closer. It’s only then that you notice he’s shivering. A soft “What’s wrong, darling?” croaks past your lips. He doesn’t respond, letting his actions speak louder as his hands slip under your shirt and brush along your soft stomach as if trying to steal up all your warmth. You hiss at his touch, his usually cold skin even colder for some reason. “You’re freezing,” you can’t help but exclaim the obvious.

Your vampire bf whimpers, nodding his head within the warm fold of your neck. “Need your warmth. Need your heat, baby please,” he says in a soft whine, one hand tugging at the seam of your shorts and giving you an idea of what he means.

As soon as you’ve pulled your panties down, he’s sliding himself between the warm supple flesh of your thighs. He hisses in the space of her neck, his body shuddering with pleasure.

Your lips part, feeling his throbbing cock push its way through your legs, so close to where you need him. His tip bumping up against your clit with every snap of his hips. Arousal pools within you till it drips onto his cock. Your bf growls, hips moving faster.

“Ah, fuck! More. Please,” you beg, baring your neck once again. Your hips tilt, craving the feeling of being filled by him.

“My heart, I could devour you whole and still crave more," he rumbles, his hips bucking to catch every drop of your essence on his length.

His hand tenderly cups the underside of your neck and brings it to his lips. You sense the heat of his breath and goosebumps rise along your arms a second before you feel the sharp prick of pleasure caused by his fangs. You shiver as he slowly sinks them all the way in.

The combination of his fangs inside you and the way he slows down the rocking of his hips causes your eyes to droop as you begin to drift back to sleep. His hand massages your plush thigh, gently shifting it back over his own, legs intertwining.

With your thighs open, your bf has easy access to slide his length inside your eager and dripping walls. You both moan as he pushes past your entrance, his girth carefully stretching your precious pussy as he takes his time stuffing you full of him. Bringing a delicious dull ache to the apex of your thighs.

He settles in once he’s buried his length to the hilt, your hips fitting together like two puzzle pieces. He relaxes against your body and wraps every limb that he can around you. Cocooning your being in his protective embrace. Making you feel exactly as treasured as you are.

“That’s better,” he slurs contently in an attempt to speak with his fangs in your neck. Soon after you start to feel his skin warming back up against your own. You smile softly, finally falling back asleep and happy you were able to help him.

Never finding out that Vampires have full control over their body temperature.

[monster-mash-m]

Imagine catching the eye of a very old vampire. He’s been around for senturies, yet doesn’t tend to leave his castle all too much. However you’ve stumbled into the forest housing his castle, somehow. A sweet treat, and it just so happens he is on a nice stroll to stretch his legs. He noticed you. And the dreck you’re wearing. No no. You’re too beautiful to wear such immodest or scabby clothes (in his opinion.)

He then approached you, and of course a strange man approaching you in a forest at night is a slight red flag. So of course you start running away but he’s much faster and blocks your path. “My dear do not run, I must discuss those unsightly garbs!” You pause in bewilderment nearly crashing into him. “Huh?”

“Let me adorn you with silks and jewels that suit you more dear.” He said in his head rather generously “no beauty like yourself should be in such… peasantries.”

And this is how you’ve ended up being a vampires little dress up doll. He loves putting you in all kinds of outfits, could you blame him? He’s a very lonely man, and you’re just so…. Mesmerizing, so enticing to him in a way he can’t quite describe.

However… the vampire had become quite more dubious with dressing you recently. Before hand he left you to your privacy when you changed, but now he insists to be in the room with you to ‘make sure you put it on properly’.

Despite your gender he will subtly hand you lingerie and see in you wear it.

If you do? He gets even more… mischievous. His hands go lower and lower on you back as he guides you through his castle.

His eyes lower to your chest and lower as you talk.

His mind wonders far too much recently.

Maybe you should give the old vampire a little treat, hm?

[ozzgin]

Write more vampire clown please

Imagine being folded in half and this mf blows the horn right before you nut

[bwanaid]

yandere vampire !! who immediately knows it’s you. His senses are sharp, he’s picky to drinking blood. He’s already craving you !!

yandere vampire !! who’s intoxicated by your scent. it’s rare to find a humans smell so appealing ?! who is all over you leaving bites and marks to show you’re his.

yandere vampire !! who detects your every emotion. feeling sad? you’re all ready in his arms.

yandere vampire !! who sees into your dreams and manipulates them so he’s always on your mind.

yandere vampire !! who relies on you to be his blood bank. Had tried other humans but they are disgusting ^^ sucks you dry until you start to feel light headed and can’t stand no more.

yandere vampire !! who is always lurking in the dark and gets a ring specifically made to protect himself from the sun so you two can spend beautiful moments together.

yandere vampire !! who wanted to turn you since the day he’s laid his eyes on you. “what do you mean you aren’t ready?? don’t you want to be together for eternity?!”.

[bunnis-monsters]

NSFW

Monster boy with a breeding and mommy kink that’s desperate to get you pregnant so he can be snuggled and taste your breast milk… he both wants to be pampered and spoiled and to do the same to you…

Maybe it’s a cat hybrid/werewolf that lost his mother when he was young and still has those kitten/puppy behaviors, wanting to knead and suckle on your breasts while you keep his knot warm.

Maybe it’s a vampire/elf that hasn’t seen his mother in centuries and just needs that affection and unconditional love, who wants to sleepily fuck into you while while you give him lots of affection and encouragement.

He just loves you, you’re his mate, his lover. You’re the only one that can make him feel so soft, so fuzzy and warm inside. He calls you mommy/mama when he cums, and just wants lots of snuggles for aftercare.

Tell him he did a good job, and how much you love him… he really needs to hear it.

Thinking… thinking about this a lot…

[yandere-writer-momo]

Thinking about a yandere werewolf, but not just any werewolf… a bounty hunter. And he has it bad for his you. Cowboy Werewolf!

Yandere Shorts: Like I Love You

Yandere werewolf x fem reader

TW: obsession, delusional themes, abo dynamic, horror, gore (mentioned), death of characters, neglectful husband, betrayal, cheating husband, forced relationship, mention of baby trapping, and behavior that should not be romanticized

Rolfe was currently on a hunt… his target is a sickly preacher’s, one that should be easy enough. Her own husband had paid him quite the pretty penny to off her. Poor little lamb didn’t stand a chance in the wilderness of this world. Not when she had enemies close to her side such as an unfaithful husband and a conniving best friend. He almost felt sorry for his prey

He arrived a day later, his clawed fingers dragged through a lock of her hair as he inhaled her scent. She smelled… delicious. And she was so vulnerable too with her nape out that just begged for his teeth to be driven into…

Rolfe shook his head before he went back into a trance when she subconsciously leaned into his touch. His hand moved up and grazed her temple that felt as if it were ablaze. Poor woman had a fever…

“Darling? Did you finally come to me?” Her voice was a bit delirious with sickness as she kissed his hands. Each kiss made him feel as if he was her beloved. It took everything in him not to loudly whine like a dog. “I missed you so much James. I’m sorry I got sick again.”

Rolfe didn’t say a word before he continued to drag his rough palms through her hair. His heart hammered in his chest and his wolf clawed inside his brain to be released. It seemed this woman before him… was his fated mate.”

Rolfe bent down and buried his nose into the crook of her neck to deeply inhaled. Oh yes… this lassy was his for the takin.

Rolfe began to slowly nurse her back to health rather than off her. An action that made his employer question him. Why on earth would a monster nurse such a nuisance back to health? She was always near death’s door. What use was such a delicate woman in the Wild West?

“When are you going to off (your name)? She’s an easy target.”

“I have honor as a bounty hunter. It must be a hunt.” Rolfe snarled at (your name)’s husband, James, the man who dared to keep her sick due to his lack of care. Had that scrawny man have no pride as a man? The pastor made him sick.

“She’s easy to pick off right now. I’d really like this to be over and done with so I can marry Helen. This is why I hired a monster-“ Rolfe picked James up from the ground by his throat as James gasped for air.

“You are a foolish, greedy man. Are you sure you are truly a man of god?” Rolfe growled, showing his fangs. His dark, muscular form largely towered over James’s lithe frame. “You’re a pathetic man.”

Rolfe soon went back to the care of (your name). The werewolf rubbed his cheeks all over her bed and her body to scent her… he needed to get rid of James’s scent. Rolfe wouldn’t let another have her and hurt her again… he’d spirit her away.

Rolfe wondered how many pups she’d want. If they’d be pretty like her but strong like him… if she’d pepper him with nips and kisses everyday. If she’d beg him for his knot on the next full moon as he properly mated her?

“Darling?” (Your name) reached for his face and Rolfe was quick to put his face in them. A needy whine escaped his throat while he nuzzled her. She was his precious mate…

He snarled when he saw Helen enter. The woman scoffed at him in disgust.

“Ugh. James and I are tired of waiting. You have been here over a month! We want you gone beast. We’ll do it ourselves.”

“So you’re cancelling the contract?” He hummed while he continued to tenderly kiss (your name)‘a palms. “Are you sure? Did you read the fine print?”

“Yes. We don’t need your kind here, true love will prevail-“ Helen didn’t even have time to scream before a giant black wolf hybrid had dug it’s fangs into her throat and ripped it apart like wrapping paper. Blood splattered all over the floor and walls as Helen could only helplessly choke on her own blood.

“Yes… true love will prevail.” He muttered with a a satisfied hum. “My mate will be so happy.”

Meanwhile, James fled into the forest for dear life. That beast had gotten Helen! The two of them couldn’t believe the werewolf would turn on him.

James loudly leapt when he heard something large chase him through the underbrush on all fours. He could hear his heartbeat in his ears and feel his sweat pool down his back in puddles. He needed to get to the church! A demon such as the bounty hunter couldn’t possibly enter there-

But James was knocked to the ground as an agonized shriek fell from his lips. The werewolf began to shake and mangle his leg like the bloodthirsty beast it was…

“Let me go! Let me go! I didn’t do anything-“

Rolfe chuckled darkly. The black werewolf dropped his legs and glanced his beastly head at James. “Oh but she never did anything either… all she did was foolishly love you.”

“W-what do you mean? Are you talking about-“ James’s words were muffled by the paw like hand that covered his mouth. Rolfe shushed him.

“Shhh. You may have failed to pay me and cancel my contract but I had gotten something far more valuable from this transaction. Something most werewolves dream to find in their lifetimes… a fated mate!” Rolfe sighed dreamily. “You may have failed as a protector and provider, but I surely won’t! You have given me something more valuable than any coin could offer… yet you were neglectful to her. Such a shame really.”

“I… I’ll do anything! Just take her and let me live.”

“Ah but I can’t do that. Not when she still calls for you at night. No… you have to be eliminated. Destroyed, really. You can no longer exist on the same planet as her! You are in the way of my love!”

Loud screams of terror ringed out throughout the crisp night air and then it was silence.

Rolfe returned hours later scrubbed clean of blood while he crawled into the bed with his darling mate. He sighed in contentment when she cuddled him. Yes… it may take time to train her properly, but he was sure he could do it. He could make her love him. Just like he loved her.

[rapturously]

𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐬 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡, 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞.

┊ count orlok x fem!reader.

✠⠀༷ ゜ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: intended to be a sacrifice for the strigoi haunting your village, your escape brings you face-to-face with death incarnate.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5.4K.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: smut, dubious consent (mild hypnosis/dreamlike state), loss of virginity, monsterfucking, vampire antics (scent kink, bloodplay), stockholm syndrome, mild title kink (heavy use of my lord), shadow sex/fingering, female masturbation, voyeurism, extreme possessive/obsessive behavior.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: this is arguably the most enjoyment I’ve had writing a fic in a long time. I really hope that you love it as much as I loved writing it! any support is greatly appreciated! I would absolutely love to write more Count Orlok after this, for sure!

ICE-LADEN GALES NIPPED AT BARE FLESH, LIKE THE COLD PRICK OF A KNIFE — ONLY TENFOLD. ROPE CHAFED RAGGED AGAINST SOFT SKIN, AND YOUR FEET SEEMED TO CARRY YOU FAR AWAY, INTO THE DESOLATE HILLSIDES OF TRANSYLVANIA.

A sacrifice — a sweet, mourning lamb, given to the butcher, bound together to keep the darkness from devouring your village. That was what you were, some pious creature to be torn apart by a wolf that prowled through shadow.

Only the cruor of a virgin would expunge the evil that lay within the mountains, your blood, offered to the devil.

Many girls had come before you, maidens that willingly succumbed to their fate, screams snuffed out with the trees as their witness. There was not an ounce of subservience within you, no desire to meet your end alone, to become another notch on the post.

Tears stained your cheeks, liquid salt chilled as it settled upon your features, now steeped in dirt as you stumbled through forested wilderness. Winters were dangerous — the biting ice gnawed at your bones, threatening to rip away your extremities.

Before your fellow villagers could put you to the blade, you fled — naked, bitten by frost, alone with only monsters to nip at your heels.

Their desperate cries echoed into the night, the sound of begging — pleading to be spared without their tribute. Groomed to become an inevitable feast for the creature that tormented your village, you could no longer sit idly by and wait to die.

Beneath your breast, your heart clenched, pounding like that of a drum as it howled within your ears. The whiplike scratch of the wind raked across your body, leaving you heaving, fighting against encroaching exhaustion.

In the distance, torchlight grew dim — those who knew of Nosferatu did not dare venture into the woods or the nearby mountainside. Strands of garlic and crucifixes shrouded the borders of your village, superstitions workings to keep the creature at-bay.

Twigs and undergrowth beneath the snow scraped across your feet as you continued to blindly stumble through the forest, emerging onto the other side, where the bridge rested. Beside it, an obelisk — holy relics, strands of garlic, a sign.

‘TURN BACK, OR MEET DEATH’, it read, the script having weathered with the passage of time. The bridge led to a winding path, a path that could only lead to your inevitable demise. Blood began to ooze from your soles, flesh agitated, lips becoming chapped by the wind.

The Carpathian Mountains stood vigil, an impenetrable wall of ancient rock that kept you from the castle that lay between snow-laden peaks. Wisps of snow fluttered from dusky skies, illuminated only by silvery slats of moonlight.

A haze surrounded your vision — exhaustion coupled with the inevitable shroud of frostbite, and yet, something propelled your forward. Respite awaited you in the form of cold earth and maggots if you continued, the spectre of death hovering above you.

With weak steps, you crossed the bridge, hands still bound together, rope having ripped away at the velvety flesh around your wrists. Shadows became listless, alive, as if something moved within the forest, and still, you wandered forth.

There were worse creatures than wolves and bears in the forests, mere fodder to something archaic, an ancient evil feared by your village for decades. Old maids whispered tales of the Castle Orava, home to a den of monsters considered to be servants of the devil, a harbinger of hell.

Foul magic was at-work, they claimed — and yet, you felt drawn for reasons unexplainable. It was as if you were being lured into open waters, dark and treacherous, as black as a bottomless pit. Despite the heaviness of your body, you carried on, bare and blistered.

The path became even, a seemingly-endless stretch of black woodland that broke away to reveal a gate, as ancient as the landscape itself. Even through your blurred vision, shapes danced within darkness, as if they were grinning.

A wheeze of exhaustion bubbled up within your throat, parched and hoarse, flesh beginning to submit to the earth below. You could not recall when you had fallen, crawling toward the gate as if it would be your salvation.

Hoofbeats crackled against the dirt, a distant dream, like the wisp of a memory that soon dissipated — only, it was reality.

Before your body gave way to the blissful kiss of death, a shadow approached, casting its oppressive hand across you. It was veiled by darkness, a presence most enigmatic, something that you hadn’t experienced before.

Nails as sharp as talons ghosted above your satiny flesh, now marred by bruises and by nature’s cruel sting. Your breathing became shallow, strained by a sudden wave of nauseating terror as this shadow swallowed you whole, blanketing you in what you believed to be eternal darkness.

Oh, how you longed for it — for death’s final caress.

Dreams muddled themselves with waking nightmares — and you were trapped, the lamb screaming in the woods, unable to run free. It was the same stretch of dark forest, eyes following you from penumbra, a gloom so dour and terrifying that it rattled your spine.

Running, running, running — it was all you could remember, falling to your knees in the chilled earth, stone biting at your flesh, bones begging for rest. The gleam of torchlight and the shimmer of the blade still haunted you, the executioner preparing to give your blood to protect your village.

In the howl of your terror, the wood seemed to close in around you, like a wrought-iron cage, its thorns drawing blood from your ragged skin. You wanted to scream, to cry out, beg for a savior — and yet, no sound emerged, only ash.

There, in the endless obscurity of a long night, was he — the creature.

Claws that extended from ashen digits reached for you, took hold, and you felt his grasp close in around your throat. No pleas of mercy escaped your tongue, now turned to stone. Death was what you expected in the maw of this shadow — and it never came.

Its hands did not squeeze, with no intent to snuff the air from your lungs. It wasn’t the hold of one desiring death, like that of strangulation, but the embrace of lust. It was unfamiliar — cold, exhilarating, unyielding — and yet, you never wanted anything more.

No visage ever emerged, only the sheen of crimson-stained fangs that sought your breast, the stench of something foul permeating your surroundings. There was no pain — his bite was akin to the caress of a lover, lacking maliciousness, lacking the gnash and tear of a predator.

Hunger — you could feel it burning like an open flame within your throat, his famine. A creature that starved, with an appetite so unorthodox that it was your blood he craved.

With a strangled gasp, you awoke.

Woodlands were exchanged for the frigid, stone interior of an ancient castle, fixtures remarkably old, possessing macabre decor. Your gaze flickered to the ghoulish countenance of a gargoyle hanging above a roaring hearth, heart nearly leaping from your chest.

Whatever dream you awoke from, you could not discern it from reality, a thought that frightened you to no end. Surrounded by the thick, cured hide of a grizzly, you found yourself bare, still lacking a scrap of clothing. The hide was large enough to preserve your modesty, if you had any left.

The rope that had shackled your wrists together was no more, nonexistent — only raw wounds remained. This castle was cursed, a place of horrors beyond your imagination; you could not explain the semblance of reprieve that you felt.

Licks of comforting heat soothed your icy bones, the simmering fire bringing you a semblance of peace, no matter how threadbare. This newfound environment seemed haunted, decrepit — the furnishings were covered in a layer of dust.

It was luxurious, fixtures fit for that of nobility, a lifestyle that eclipsed your own existence back in the village. Now, you belonged to nothing, with no home to return to. Your traitorous actions would be met with punishment, if you were to return.

The floor beneath you was crafted of stone, covered in a layer of dust. Tangles of cobwebs stretched across the mantle above the hearth, roused only by the ghost of a draft that fluttered throughout the room.

Beside the hearth, sat a tub — the gold had tarnished, making it appear dilapidated, as if it were weathered by the elements. Steam rose from the water inside, as still as a silent pond.

A soft groan escaped you, body wracked with the frigid sting of agony, one that made your stomach turn as you approached the bath. It was unusual, the placement — your desire for cleanliness outweighed your skepticism.

Wobbling legs trembled like leaves upon a windswept branch as you sank into steaming water, causing you to hiss at the intrusion against your wounds. The heat did wonders, offering relief from the stab of ice, from the cruelty of the Carpathian cliffsides.

It was still dusk, the hour of the bat, a night that left you with a constant presence of dread. The creature, the man you saw — his shadow had not left you, as if pieces still lingered within your heart as you scrubbed yourself free of grime.

The groan of withered hinges gave way to the weight of the cast-iron doors, adorned with the heads of snarling hounds. Light pooled in from the crack in the door, causing gooseflesh to rake along your spine, followed by a shiver.

Something pulled you — like a puppeteer orchestrating a show, strings that bound you to some medieval presence beyond the doors. The flames within the hearth began to flicker, their light diminishing, waning to little more than smoldering embers.

Fear took root within your heart, its tendrils seizing within you, filling you with a wave of disquiet. Despite the warmth of the water, your flesh screams with an icy chill, throat growing thick as you reached for the bear’s hide.

Shame rippled through you, still bare and exposed beneath the mountain of fur. Firelight illuminated the next room, far more vast than the one you awoke in. Shuffling forward, you grasped at the edge of the door, benumbed iron firm beneath your palm.

A dining hall stretched before you, an ornate table lined with tall chairs that were made from the finest of pelts, yet worn by time. In another lifetime, this castle might’ve been beautiful — instead, it was a mausoleum of the damned.

An ornate candelabra sat atop the table, wisps of smoke drifting from extinguished wicks. A sizable pitcher sat beside a pair of wine glasses, glass contained within some metallic design that twisted around the base.

Two chairs had faced the roaring fireplace, a hearth that dwarfed the size of the one in your quarters. Your footsteps were feather-light as you crossed the threshold, carrying yourself closer to the table.

“Hello?” Whispers to an empty room stirred something within the shadows, accompanied by the garish bark of hounds. Icy dread coalesced within the pit of your stomach as you looked around, fearful of your intrusion.

A door opposite of you opened, moved by a nameless shadow, whose frame eclipsed all slivers of light — an ominous void, as black as pitch. Two hounds snarled at the spectre’s heels, leering through the corridor’s darkness.

Strigoi — the revenant of pestilence, now standing before you. You should’ve been terrified, thrown yourself at its mercy, but instead, you remained petrified where you stood.

For the briefest of moments, your eyes fluttered, and the shadow no longer occupied the space within the hallway. The door slammed shut, the thunderous crack of iron reverberating throughout the room.

The hounds paced forth, growling at you as they settled somewhere along the fringes, laying down alongside scaling stone columns. You swallowed the growing lump within your throat, chewing at the inside of your cheek.

Flames shuddered in the wake of an archaic presence, akin to an icy gale, and with it, the aura of something horribly foreboding. The shadow appeared at the head of the table, each ragged breath evoking a low, guttural growl.

“Sit.”

It was inhuman, his voice — akin to thunder shaking the mountains, like the roll of a dark tide, dragging sailors into its unforgiving seas. He spoke your native tongue, Dacian, and yet it sounded harsher from his lips, wrought with blades.

Through pools of dim firelight, you caught a glimpse of his visage — sharp and pointed, stone-faced and garish. His features, whilst gaunt, possessed all of the markings of a nobleman, attire bearing sigils of royalty, crafted of fine pelts.

With trembling hands, you lowered yourself into your seat, shrouded by the warmth of the grizzly’s hide, ensuring that you were concealed from his view. That pang of hunger you felt in your dream, a ravenous appetite — you could feel it again.

The plate placed before you is nothing more than a generous portion of bread, somewhat stale from constant exposure to acrid air. Your stomach gnashes with hunger, the sting of starvation — you dared not touch it.

“Eat,” His command reverberates throughout the hall, enough to cause a wave of gooseflesh to permeate your skin, dancing along your spine. “Thou shall refer to me as thy lordship.” You had not yet extended your gratitude — he must’ve plucked you from the snow.

Without an ounce of hesitation, your teeth greedily sank into bread, pulling it apart with the fervor of some wild animal. You were not a noblewoman, nor a maiden with any title or dowry — merely the daughter of a carpenter.

“My Lord,” What did one say to a creature that once terrorized your home, to a myth now manifested into flesh? “I — I must thank you, for your hospitality.” Reduced to a mere shrew in his presence, you chewed whatever piece of bread lingered in your mouth.

It was you, his lamb — intended to be his sacrifice, his sated hunger, sparing your village from the terror of his curse.

Another snarl emerged from him, accompanied by each rasp of his breathing, a noise that perplexed you to no end. Strigoi were dangerous — servants of hell itself, creatures born of dark sorcery, ones that had no place in the natural world.

Akin to a mere wisp of shadow, he manifested at your side, pouring a goblet of wine for you, the liquid a dusky crimson. Your gaze never dared to look him in the eyes, feeling the ghost of his finger dance across your cheek.

Such warmth, such feebleness — the beating of your heart only seemed to race with a pang of exhilaration. His flesh was akin to an endless winter, as cold as ice, like roughened leather, decaying beneath the earth.

“Drink.”

Your lips had not tasted wine as lavish as the chalice he presented you with, and it felt saccharine upon your tongue. Greed consumed you, prompting you to drink as if it were your lifeblood.

Long had this castle stood, many centuries of history contained within walls as old as time. A Count, a nobleman he had been in life, a black sorcerer. You, this enchantress, maiden of nothing — you would be his bride, his obsession, his unmaker.

From the rotten gloom of his fortress, he had preyed upon your village for years — years spent in-fear of this serpent, feeding upon the young and old. Blood was blood, and it did not matter the age, so long as his appetite was satiated.

“What do you intend for me?” Your voice was little more than a trembling mewl, expecting to be submitted to dark magics or something far worse. A low grunt stirred within his throat, nail dragging along the curve of your jaw.

With great restraint, his hand recoiled, leaving your warmth as he considered your inquiry in silence. You were intended for him — not as a sacrifice, but as something more, if you were willing.

Centuries spent in his eternal tomb, centuries spent waiting for you — Orlok had crossed oceans of time, wading through endless night to find you.

“Thou must rest — no blade shall find you here.” He rumbled, looming like some dark cloud above your head. It was your scent that drove him to madness, drowned within the concoction of oils placed into the bath. It was a scent he would covet fervently.

A hitch formed within your throat, and your terror had diminished, but only enough to keep you from shaking with dread. You did not understand what he wanted from you, why he did not tear you limb from limb, the fate that had befallen many of your kin.

No blade that wasn’t his own, you pondered, chewing at the inside of your cheek until the flesh was raw. Blood coalesced, sanguine drops attracting the sudden, sharp ire of your host, whose black eyes glittered with bewilderment.

“My Lord, I — I do not understand …” Uncertainty began to permeate your tone, cadence wrought with a newfound fright. Your blood ran cold, heart leaping into your throat as your chest tightened with a great and terrible worry.

“Rest.” His growl ripped through him, reverberating from his chest like the snarl of a feral beast. You skittered from the chair, still swathed in bearskin as you retreated to the room you came from.

Perhaps, he had mistaken your fear as something ungrateful. He had not slaughtered you yet, making you an unwitting guest within his home — you should’ve been offering your gratitude without protest.

The flame within the hearth had dissipated in one fell swoop, as if some storming gale had swept throughout the hall, stealing all light with it. Darkness swallowed your surroundings, and the Count had disappeared entirely, as if he had manifested into shadow.

A shudder coursed along your spine, sending you clamoring into the false comfort of your chambers. The door had shut before you, as if propelled by some unseen force, prompting you to move towards the bed behind you.

Not even the velvet curtains could offer you security, as if they were transparent, or nonexistent. You could still feel the chill of his breath against your cheek, the sensation of his claw tracing along your jaw — you should’ve been repulsed.

Instead of abhorrence, you felt a deep-seated yearning — a blistering desire that you hadn’t experienced before, a tether that anchored you to this being. You feared yourself, the amalgamation of sensations rousing within you as you crawled beneath the sheets.

Sleep would not find you — not here.

Your dreams were no longer yours, bound to him — whatever slumber you could find, you were subject to these visions, lascivious in nature. Whatever rest you could find was disjointed, interrupted by dreams so real that you were convinced of their tangibility, as if you could reach out and touch.

It was him you dreamt of, coming to you at an ungodly hour, claws raking across your bare flesh as he unraveled your sheets. The constant penumbra kept him concealed from you, and yet, you burned to see him fully.

He touched you in your dreams, appearing between your legs as you bared your soul to him, a figure so impossibly large and intimidating. It was guilt and trepidation you should’ve felt, laying with the scourge of your people, a baneful serpent.

Instead, it was euphoria — a desire to bind yourself to him, to cage yourself within his grasp. Spindly digits caressed along your body, nails ghosting above your breasts, traveling to the plane of your stomach.

Unclean — that was what you were, piety now stained in his shadow. Even that did not perturb you as you reached for him, wisps of air being stolen from your lungs as he leaned closer, teeth scraping against your sternum.

“Please,” You had begged him to continue, to bring you a pleasure that you had not yet experienced. “Do not stop.” Whatever pleas fell from your mouth had been for naught — and you awoke with sweat-slick skin and startlement.

As your eyes fluttered open, you were flustered to find the heavy warmth of arousal between your thighs, sheets tangled around your body. Embarrassment turned to frustration, throat dry as you adjusted yourself to the darkness of your chambers.

“Thine body yearns, starved for embrace,” Like the clash of thunder, his voice shook the room, emerging from the pitch surrounding you. You did not know where he was, but he was here with you — physically. “A lamb seeking the shepherd.”

An icy breeze fluttered throughout your quarters, moonlight glistening along the curtains surrounding the bed — and you saw his shadow beside you. Exposed, you drew the sheets around you, with a shame so sharp, and yet your skin gave so easily.

That familiar knot of dread bubbled within your stomach, gooseflesh crawling along your body as you wrapped your arms around you. “I feel your shadow upon me — I should not want you.” You whispered into the gloom.

A growl stirred from the strigoi, and he burrowed into your shame, settling into your bones. “Thine will is your own — it is in your nature,” He rumbled, and that was when you saw him, lingering at the foot of the bed. “Give thyself to me.”

It was your agonizing shame that kept you from crawling to him on all fours like some beast, starving for any scrap of touch. You wanted him, in your own twisted way — wanted him to shield you from your kin, to take you, to live within your ribs.

There was no life left for you in the village — the kin that amassed to put you to the blade, left in the woods for him were not your friends. Perhaps, that was what drove you all along, pushing you into his embrace.

His tendrils wrapped themselves around your mind, no thoughts left untouched, each crevice now surrendered to the Count. He could taste your burning lust, your desire to belong, to belong to him — and he craved such sentiments.

“What little life you had, now belongs to me. Give thyself, willingly — I shall satisfy this craving, and your flesh will be mine alone.”

In the slim fade of silver, you saw him — gaunt and pale, like that of an apparition. In life, he might’ve been called handsome, comely — your disgust should’ve kept you away, made you flee. You were rooted to the bed, able to meet his stare.

Hues as black as pitch, swirling with a hunger unending, an eternal appetite that demanded to be sated by you. He watched you hawkishly, his shadow descending upon you, the phantom sensation of fingers dancing across your collarbone.

Enraptured by the Count, your enticement only seemed to blossom, unfurling from your chest with a wave of want. Instead of hiding yourself from him, you sluggishly allowed the sheets to drop, breasts pebbling from the chilled air.

“I am yours — and only yours, my Lord.”

With a breathy declaration of your devotion, a snarl bubbled from his throat, a sound that sent shivers cascading down your body. Your legs untangled themselves from the sheets altogether, nakedness now exhilarating instead of humiliating.

It was as if you were eased down by some unseen presence, as clawed, shadowed hands bid you to recline into the feathered bed beneath you. The Count did not move from the foot of the frame, leering at you with an ugly obsession.

“Think only of me.”

Whatever supernatural abilities he possessed, he used them, as if you were placed back into the vision you’d had before. His tone rattles your insides, a booming timbre wrought with something dark and enigmatic.

Phantom sensations drift along your body, the touch of another foreign to you. You have used your own hand before, but this feels exhilarating, like a gale of frigid wind ghosting across your frame.

Arousal coalesces between your legs, a slick heat that oozes onto the sheets. It is your scent that vexes him so, the scent of a siren, the call of your sanguine soul.

Without a thought, your hand shyly drifts to your chest, kneading into one of your breasts. Your skin prickles when he makes a sharp, throaty growl of satisfaction. His ghostly claws rake along the supple flesh of your thighs.

A moan escapes you, one of delight as you begin to sink into his presence. For now, he is content to observe, his shadow partaking instead of his physical being — it will not be that way for long.

Soon, your flesh would join — you would become bound to him, and he to you, a union abhorred by many. He reveled at the thought of you, flesh eternal, revealing yourself to him like the unfurling petals of a flower.

No longer shrewd beneath his covetous glower, you freely touch yourself, squeaking out a myriad of sounds from your throat. “Take all of me, beloved.” You exhale, the pad of your thumb flicking across your swollen nipple.

The use of such an intimate title evokes a ragged, strained exhale from your paramour, whose obsession rages like that of a tempest. His phantom claws trace along your body, circling your unattended breast.

It kneads just as you do, sharp talons continuing to tease the pebbled bud, drawing out a mewl from your sweet lips. Gooseflesh erupts across the back of your neck, another wave of arousal flushing through your frame.

A heated ardor burned between your thighs, soon to be soothed by the ghost of gnarled digits. Spectral claws continue to revel in your velvety flesh, seeking your arousal as the shadow traces across your cunt. It makes you writhe, one hand grasping desperately at the sheets.

A strangled whimper emerges from you, back beginning to arch into his salacious embrace. He continues to watch from his place at the foot of the bed, breathing unnaturally hoarse, strained with a wanton need.

Warmth exhumes from you like the lick of an open fire, extinguishing his gravely chill. The Count’s gaze greedily consumes your contorting form, able to hear the erratic beating of your heart, your mouth torn open, his name upon your lips.

No curse had befallen you, save that of devotion.

Phantom digits find the pearl of your cunt, teasing the clutch of nerves before vigorously circling it. Your knees buckle, eyes fluttering shut as you succumbed to such unholy appetites.

“Give in to thine own desires.”

That gravelly purr coaxes you to seek your satisfaction, and you mechanically obey, as if transfixed by his voice alone. A sharp exhale splits your ribs, and the hand that once grasped the sheets soon finds its way between your legs.

An unnatural sheen permeates his black hues, one that seems appeased with your subservience. No dead heart could beat — his skeletal frame had not felt such fervor for centuries.

Again, you look to him, as if wanting him to witness your lust, fingers dancing along your swollen folds. Your digits seek to roll across your slit, eliciting a whine from you as you begin to touch yourself.

Dragging your legs against the sheets, you keep them parted, two fingers sluggishly rutting against your nethers. A phantom hand caresses along your stomach, nails raking from navel to sternum, and then to your throat.

The pressure sends a spike of adrenaline through your body, the sensation unfamiliar, but not unwelcome. You think of him in an untoward manner, unbecoming of a maiden, lascivious fantasies that make you sigh.

Ghostly caresses layer themselves across your chest, and you swear you hear him shift throughout the room, drawing closer to you. Your thumb languidly circles your pearl, teeth gnashing at your lower lip.

A throaty moan rips from your diaphragm, wrought with ecstasy as you pleasure yourself, one palm kneading at your breast. The other is spirited, ministrations laced with desire as your digits find your entrance.

His shadow is oppressive, a force that blankets itself across your body, and for a moment, you see a vision of him, crawling over your flesh. Your thoughts are molded to him, able to be toyed with — your Lord makes you see his own whims.

It became difficult to discern dreams from reality, imagining his hands roaming your form, claws sinking into your flesh, his brand. You call out to him, a whimpering plea that begs him for release.

Arousal mounts, burning heavy within the pit of your stomach as you squirm, pushing two fingers into the tight heat of your cunt. The noises are sinful, a myriad of strained moans intermingled with crass strokes of your digits.

The Count’s phantom hand continues to squeeze at your throat, nails digging into the silken flesh of your neck. A sharp exhale emerges from your lips, toes beginning to curl at the concoction of sensations assaulting your body.

You alone had grown intimately acquainted with your own body, and yet he handled you as if you had been lovers for centuries. Ghostly digits begin to toy with the pearl of your cunt, causing your muscles to twitch.

“Please,” A supplication to the shadows, wanting some release for your overwhelming pleasure. It swarms you from all around, senses invaded with his dominating presence. “My Lord, please!” Your cunt clenches around your fingers.

A growl erupts from the pitch, his gaze fixated upon you as he looms closer, hovering above your writhing frame. The scent of your cruor ensnares him like a wolf to a rabbit, and he finally moves to perch beside you.

His garb only makes him seem impossibly statuesque, hand hovering above you as his sorcery intensifies. Your back arches, feeling his shadow purse around your pearl, enough to make you fist at the sheets.

Ecstatic digits piston themselves in and out of your nethers, coated in a thin layer of slick, thighs shifting together in an attempt to relieve any ounce of friction.

Higher — you climb toward your release, chasing after it with a thinly-veiled desperation. Shadowy sensations move across your body like liquid smoke, squeezing beneath your jaw, continuing to circle around your clit.

You are temptation incarnate — his devotion to you is a powerful thing, just as yours is to him. Sharp, jagged teeth hover above your breast, and the Count succumbs to his hunger, at last.

Pain blossoms throughout your breast, and yet you hadn’t felt an ecstasy quite like this. It was blinding, white-hot as it consumed you whole, swallowing you within the abyss of lust. Teeth break flesh, tasting your cruor upon his tongue.

No drink could compare to that of your sanguine ichor, no sensation — the Count drank from your breast, a possessive snarl ripping through his chest. He bristled at the feeling of your warm palm cupping the nape of his neck.

A crescendo of moans tore through you as you approached your peak, digits continuing to dip inward, curling within your cunt. It became strained, body trembling with an onslaught of ecstasy.

Claws begin to stroke along your tresses, as if easing you into submission, coaxing forth a release that makes you scream. Your body curls toward him, cunt slick with your mess as you find your satisfaction, at last.

A warm rush of your essence soaks the sheets, the scent enough to drive your paramour to madness. It furthers his bloodlust in a way that entices you, another wheezing exhale leaving him.

A rough tongue slithers against your sternum, stained in crimson as he openly feasts from you, and you do not recoil. Your peak seems to work in-tandem with his appetite, feeling his claws ghost above your breast.

Muscles ache with spasmodic twitches, chest flourishing with the sting of agony as it spreads throughout your sternum. Instead, you invite him closer, digits stroking at the greying, decayed flesh, allowing him to sup upon you.

His gravelly voice seems to intensify within the recesses of your mind, speaking to you through a distant haze. “Thine flesh belongs to me,” He rumbles, and you hold him closer. “As this flesh belongs to thee.”

He does not touch you, leaving you with some aching void that can only be filled by him — he alone will satisfy the craving.

[dark-moonlust]

Mating Frenzy

Pairing: vampire x fem human reader

Summary: your vampire mate is going through a mating frenzy. You have no choice but to ride it out with him.

Warnings: minors don't interact, 18+!!!!, p in v sex, well-endowed 🍆, vampire bites, lots 💦.

The night air was thick with lust.

The room was dark, the flickering candles casting dancing shadows on the walls.

Fabric ripped, touches urgent, bodies tingling.

Cold hands were wrapped around you, fangs sank into your neck as strong hips pistoned inside you. Your vampire boyfriend was going through a mating frenzy, you’d been fucking since morning and he still wasn’t satisfied, his need for you consuming him. Your breath came in ragged gasps, your heart racing in your chest. Two big hands cupped your breasts, flicking your nipples while jerking your body back and forth on his rigid cock.

Again and again, he pushed inside you, his thick veined shaft stretching and invading you. His hips snapped forward relentlessly, squelching sounds echoing. Affected by the mating fever, he cupped your neck, his lips crashing down on yours, tongue slipping inside your mouth. Your tongues brushed hungrily. You could taste the metallic tang of your blood on his lips.

“Fuuuck, baby, you drive me insane,” he growled, his hands roaming over your curves.

There was raw need in his eyes. The mating frenzy had affected you and his need, mirrored your own.

“Nnn—need you,” you whimpered in time with his frantic thrusts.

“You’re mine,” he said, his voice rough with emotion. “All of you. Mine.”

“Hmmm… ’m yours.” You cried out. “Harder! Pl…ease!”

Rough hands pulled your hair back, exposing more of your neck.

"As hard as you want, sweetheart," the vampire growled before sinking his fangs back into your flesh. You winced, palms flat on the wall in front of you, feeling blissful ecstasy as he sucked hungrily at your nape.

“My mate,” he hissed, his voice low as he pumped erratically in you from behind. “I’m going to bury myself so deep. Going to bathe you with my cum.“

Eyes blazing with raw hunger, he fucked you, his thrusts growing more and more erratic. Your pussy was drenched, wet sounds echoing, mingling with your moans and his growls. Every thrust jerked you whole body and made your knees weak. You could barely stand. A few more primal thrusts and he brought you to the edge. You shuddered, tears streaming down your cheeks as you cried out his name and came around his pounding cock.

His movements faltered for a moment, as if wanting to enjoy the convulsing of your walls around him. His eyes met yours, pride in their depths. He kissed you, then he was turning you over, gripping your hips and lifting you against him. Your tits pressed against his chest, legs wrapping around him.

A smooth glide and he was deep up your cunt, your bodies fused together. With a choked sob, you buried your face in his neck, your body shuddering as he lifted you and lowered you on his cock. He came with a groan, the force of his release filling you, his cock throbbing violently inside you. Another orgasm was forced from you, less intense, but still your breaths remained ragged and uneven.

“Good, so good for me,” he drawled, his voice strained.

You held him close, fingers stroking his hair. “I love you.”

He trembled against you. “Fuck, sweetheart, I don’t deserve you.”

“We deserve each other.”

And with that, he tenderly scooped you up and laid you down on the bed. The mating fever started to fade, so he took you in his arms and you snuggled up against his chest. He kissed and whispered words of love and affection before sleep took over you both.