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theharrowing · 1 year ago

Text

Fledgling

Jungkook is tired of his dreary existence. So when a mysterious stranger offers him a way out of life as he knows it, he takes it without hesitation.

🩸 Human (to Vampire) Jungkook x Vampire Namjoon

🩸 word count: 12.3k

🩸 dead dove, strangers to lovers, vampire au, horror, blood & gore, major character death (kind of; to become a vampire), smut, light angst, possessive fluff, 21+

🩸 warnings: dead dove 🕊 do not eat! top Namjoon bottom Jungkook; a vampiric game of cat and mouse; this is a bloody fucking mess; Jungkook has a death wish and makes unwise choices; talk of sex work and using men for a place to sleep; Calvin Klein babygirl Jungkook; lavender Namjoon; talk of robbing men jk sleeps with; talk of a car crash and the sight of the aftermath of a crash; use of the word whore; vampire compulsion/charming; lots of pet names and terms of threatening endearment; possessiveness; classist language jk says toward himself (which does not reflect my real opinions at all); fear kink; nj drinking JK’s blood; jk literally bleeds to death (hi hello this is a vampire fic lol); smut (temperature play kind of; does this count as blood play???; blow job; anal fingering; anal sex; dying while being fucked and having a lovely time; semi-public sex beside corpses); a lot of blood drinking; having a captive person whose blood is drained; jk loses his autonomy completely.

🩸 note: in this fic, we observe a world where Jungkook has heard of zombies but not vampires, okay. suspend your disbelief just once, my loves!!! this one is quite dark but not terribly graphic, all things considered. there is plenty of blood & gore tho!!! i did not get a chance to proofread as much as i usually do, so if you notice any errors, feel free to let me know!

🩸 happy halloween to my lovely @sweetestofchaos! 🧛🏻 👻 🎃 🍂 i hope you enjoy this!!! i only meant for this to be a short, sweet oneshot and it completely took on a life of its own.

🩸 written for the bts fantasy & fangs trick or treat event! check out more hauntingly good works!

🩸 beta read by @neoneunnajimin

🩸 posted oct. 2023 | read on ao3

The moment the older man walks into the bar, Jeongguk takes in a deep, fortifying breath and instinctively holds it. Something about the way this man carries himself – tall, broad, and strong, with an aura of danger surrounding him – makes Jeongguk weak in the knees, and he grips onto the poles of the tiny caged-in stage and swishes his hip as he gets low into a squatting position.

Being a go-go dancer at a bar this seedy tends to attract the attention of the wrong type of men – men with families waiting for them; men with enough power and influence to make them greedy and mean; men who know damn well that a pretty little thing like Jeongguk disappearing from a shithole like this would not raise many alarms.

Jeongguk gets a thrill from being spoiled by rich married men; he dares one of them to swoop in and make him disappear – even if it means death. Anything would be better than this life, he thinks.

Unfortunately for him, the wealthy men who gravitate toward him are all talk – anything for an easy fuck. They promise Jeongguk the world, telling him how badly they want to get him out of his current rundown apartment and wax poetic about a better life – modeling contracts or sugar baby arrangements.

Oh, how they moan and groan and lament over how stunning Jeongguk is – talented, and thoughtful, and pretty. And then they fuck him and leave him, never calling back, moving along to the next sad little poor thing to utter empty platitudes to while balls deep inside them.

Jeongguk can already tell that this man is different. This man is dangerous beyond just money and an appetite for young meat. This man could make Jeongguk disappear in the blink of an eye.

The man who approaches the bar is gorgeous, dressed head to toe in black – a fitted jacket over a button-up, tucked into fitted slacks. His slightly grown-out hair is lightened to a soft lavender-blond and pushed off his forehead, his eyes are razor-sharp, and his pillow-plush lips are pulled into a smirk. As he walks, men straighten out and step to the side, quick to get out of his way.

Jeongguk watches as the man approaches the bar and leans with one elbow against the wood, ordering a drink and letting his gaze drift around the smoke-filled space. And when the man's eyes land on Jeongguk, he feels his pulse quicken.

Something dark and indiscernible flashes in the man's gaze and Jeongguk feels a pull, leaning forward, bare chest touching the cold metal bars that his hands loosely hold onto. His blood shimmers and soars through his veins, and he swoons to the cold touch of steel.

All sound around him – music and voices – seem to slow and morph, as if he is sinking deep underwater. The man's smirk grows to a salacious grin, and then he turns his gaze away from Jeongguk, who crashes back to reality as he heavy-blinks his surroundings into place.

Slowly, Jeongguk swishes his hips up to a standing position, finding he has to grip a little harder onto the poles, which are slick from sweat that has pooled beneath his palms. The man does not look back at Jeongguk, talking instead to another patron with his back facing this way, leaving him feeling empty and disappointed.

In an attempt to save face, Jeongguk dances for two more songs, eyes never straying from the back of the man, and then picks his black denim jacket up off the floor and exits the cage, hours too soon.

"Need a bathroom break," he mutters to his manager Sunmi, who stands with her arms folded over her chest, scowling at him.

"Make it quick," she snaps, to which he simply grunts, in return.

Jeongguk has half a mind to walk out the back door and go home. He cannot explain why, but he experiences such a pull to the lavender-haired man that having him turn away and not regard him leaves him feeling so disappointed and frustrated that he would rather call it a night than continue to work.

Of the dancers, Jeongguk is easily the most attractive, and he garners the most attention, meaning the managers are on his ass the most, and would definitely berate him for leaving. Luckily, he has no working cell phone at the moment, which could make leaving a lot less annoying.

The bathroom is a dimly lit shithole with yellowed walls and chipped tiles that may have once been white, years and years ago. It reeks of piss and urinal detergent blocks, and every surface is inexplicably wet. Jeongguk scrunches his nose uncomfortably, never able to get used to the stench, as he approaches the sink and stands before it, not quite sure what to do with himself.

Staring at his reflection, Jeongguk begins to give himself a silent pep talk. The way he looks now – bangs hanging in his eyes, which are smudged black like coal – he is far too fucking hot to let some asshole ruin his night.

Tonight, his hair is down – falling nearly to his shoulders in pretty dark brown waves. He wears a thin black tie under his black denim jacket, and black loose-fitting denim pants – no shirt. Dressed like this, men never turn their attention away from him once he has it, so what was that guy's fucking problem?

Jeongguk runs the sink and splashes some cold water on his face, letting it drip down his chest. He uses a paper towel to blot at his forehead and cheeks but allows the droplets on his pecs and abs to linger and glisten.

Maybe, he thinks, maybe he can score the hot lavender-haired man. At the very least, he anticipates someone will take him home tonight. Someone always does.

As he exits the bathroom, the first thing Jeongguk notices is that the man is no longer at the bar. Briefly, he scans the space, looking for him, then he clears his throat, lifts his head high, and walks back to the cage. The moment he steps in, some older man in a suit walks up and grips onto the bars in front of him, like clockwork.

"Hey, pretty thing," the man snarls, reeking of cigars and gin. What he lacks in looks, he makes up for in confidence, and hopefully money.

"Hey there, handsome," Jeongguk responds sweetly, squatting low enough to be just under eye-level with the man, which only seems to excite him more.

"What time you off work?"

It's always the same with these men, and Jeongguk heavy-blinks once, schooling his plastered smile so as to not grimace.

"I finish when the bar shuts down."

The man is antsy, shifting left to right, gripping onto the bars. Jeongguk can tell that he is considering all the ways in which his money has allowed him to skirt past rules and authority; he can tell the man is going to try to insist that Jeongguk, too, is above his own responsibilities if the man can flash enough notes.

"What do you say we get out of here now, instead?" the man tries, causing Jeongguk's right eye to twitch. "I'm sure your boss can be bought, eh? There's two more dancers here; what's the harm in letting one go?"

With a sweet smile and a shrug, Jeongguk looks over his shoulder demurely. "Boss is back there. The woman standing by the wall – the one who's frowning. If you can convince her to let me go, I'm all yours, big boy."

Fat chance in hell Sunmi noona would allow Jeongguk to leave even a minute before close, but he likes letting these men try their best shot. If anything, being told no only makes them more desperate to have him and they wind up spending a pretty penny on getting him drunk enough to fuck them later.

The man hobbles away, and a curious tingle travels up Jeongguk's neck, filling him with the sudden urge to glance around, certain that someone must be watching him. But as he makes a little spin in his cage, eyes tracing over every patron at the bar, peering over every shadow, he doesn't notice anyone paying him special attention. In fact, the only person he makes eye contact with is Sunmi noona, who is glaring at him while the man before her attempts to barter for his freedom.

Things go just as Jeongguk anticipates, to such an exact formula that he would find it amusing if it were not so fucking tedious. The man is ultimately turned down, then he proceeds to sulk at the bar, only ever leaving his post to bring Jeongguk a new drink or go take a piss. This goes on for an hour and a half, and then the man announces that he is going to use the restroom once more, and for Jeongguk to stay put and don't go too far.

Jeongguk leaves the cage and approaches the bar, feeling tipsy and tired as he leans against the far end and waits for the man to return from the restroom. He oscillates between feeling impatient and wishing the man would not return, saving him from having to suck his drunk, flaccid cock in a desperate attempt to get him hard. He just knows this man is going to have to contend with all the alcohol he has been drinking, and that Jeongguk will be the one paying the price.

Although the man is not Jeongguk's type at all – nothing like the Adonis of a man who walked in hours earlier – Jeongguk supposes he is just happy to have somewhere warm to stay for the night. Never mind how undoubtedly bad the sex is going to be. If he is lucky, Jeongguk may even find an opportunity to rob him. Nothing too wild, just a few notes from the man's wallet and some cufflinks or a watch that he likely wouldn't even miss.

Once more, a tingle works its way from Jeongguk's spine to the nape of his neck, and he shivers, glancing over his right shoulder and then his left, puzzled by the strange sensation.

"Ready to go?" the man asks from Jeongguk's right, taking him by surprise and making him flinch.

Jeongguk sighs out an embarrassed exhale and scoffs to himself. "Sure. Let's go."

"I have a room nearby," the man says. "Five star."

Of course, he has a room nearby, Jeongguk thinks. Men like him always have wives; they never take Jeongguk home with them.

Jeongguk still only wears a black denim jacket, a black tie, and no shirt underneath, and the moment he gets outside, he shivers, tensing his shoulders up to his ears and exhaling visible puffs of air in the cool autumn breeze. Being that it is bar time, the sidewalks are crowded with drunk people stumbling to and fro, and Jeongguk digs his hands deep into his jacket pockets as his shoulders and elbows are slammed into.

The man leads Jeongguk to the end of the block and to the left, around the corner, where the street is somewhat quieter. Just up ahead, a black sports car beeps, flashing its lights. With a crooked smile, the man gestures, keys in hand, to the car and says, "This is me."

Jeongguk halts, kicking the cement with the toe of his boot in an attempt to assess the situation. Ordinarily, men who bring him back to hotels do so in a taxi or with a personal driver.

"Yeah, I'm not getting into that car with you," Jeongguk says slowly, taking a tentative step back. "You've had a lot to drink."

Despite having a bit of a death wish, being smashed in a head-on collision is not his ideal way to go.

The man laughs, or maybe he hiccups – it's hard to say. "Come on, don't be a prude," he slurs. "Get in the car."

With a sigh, Jeongguk takes another step back, pulling his hands from his pockets. He hates it when drunk men get pushy, and he begins to crack his knuckles with his thumbs – a nervous tic.

"Sorry, man," Jeongguk insists, continuing to slowly back away. "I'm not getting into your car."

The man looks incensed, and he turns around in a quick swaying stumble, barreling five or so steps to reach Jeongguk, who holds his hands out in front of him, palms up, as if in surrender.

"Hey, man," Jeongguk begins, "Look, I'm not trying t—"

The man lunges, grabbing one of Jeongguk's wrists, yanking hard enough to make Jeongguk stumble. "I'm not trying to fucking argue. You and I both know I can pay you more money to keep me company than you're worth at that shithole. So why don't you be a good little whore and get in the fucking car!"

Jeongguk attempts to rip his arm away, but the man is surprisingly strong, and he yanks him enough to make Jeongguk stumble once more, causing anger and fear to spike in him. And then the tingle works its way through Jeongguk once more, much stronger than before, and he sways forward and back, blinking heavily as if trapped in a mental fog.

Slow footsteps click-clack against concrete behind Jeongguk, and without looking he knows the handsome man from the bar is standing behind him – he has no idea how or why, but he can sense him.

"Gentlemen," the man says, voice deep and rich, raising Jeongguk's goosebumps even higher. "I trust that this is not a physical altercation that I am walking in on."

The drunk man stands tall, yanking on Jeongguk's wrist again. Feeling intoxicated by the man's presence behind him has Jeongguk's arm relaxed, and he stumbles into the drunk man, causing him to huff angrily and continue to yank Jeongguk toward the car.

"He told you he isn't interested in going with you," the man behind him says, and Jeongguk gasps, curious how much of the conversation he could have overheard.

The drunk man squeezes Jeongguk's wrist before throwing it down and pointing at the man, shouting, "And just who the fuck do you think you are?"

In a blink, the new man is standing right beside Jeongguk, cloying his senses with a rich, heady scent of wildflowers and musk. The drunk man gasps and stumbles a step backward, mouth moving frantically as he quakes with fear, and the man by Jeongguk's side slowly lifts his hand, gripping the drunk man's throat.

"I," the man says slowly, "am your worst…fucking…nightmare."

Silence hangs and then the drunk man begins to laugh, snot and drool flying from his lips. He grips onto the hand around his throat and shoves it down, then he shakes his head, face turning a gruesome shade of red under the golden streetlights.

"You almost had me," the drunk man says, slapping his hand against his thigh. "That was a good one."

Jeongguk finally turns his head to face the lavender-haired man. The man only stands slightly taller than him, but his presence feels enormous. The man smiles, which creates a pretty little dimple in his cheek, and he dryly chuckles along.

"That was pretty funny, wasn't it?" the man beside Jeongguk asks.

The drunk man nods and continues to laugh, looking between Jeongguk and the lavender-haired man.

"Get in your car," the man beside Jeongguk commands firmly.

Suddenly, the man stops laughing, and his eyes lose their shine. As if being piloted by some invisible force, he turns and begins walking toward his car.

"Wait," Jeongguk mutters, looking between the men as the drunk man rounds the hood of his car and opens the driver's side door. "What is he—"

"Drive out to the countryside at top speed and crash into the first semi truck you see," the man beside Jeongguk commands, and Jeongguk watches with confused horror as the drunk man utters something to himself and closes his door.

Instinctively, Jeongguk jolts forward, eager to stop the drunk man from driving in the state he is in. But the man beside him very quietly, almost seductively says, "Oh, baby, you aren't going anywhere," and Jeongguk's entire body freezes.

It is almost as if Jeongguk's skin, down to the marrow in his bones, shimmers and heats up, heavy and dreamy as if every nerve – every blood vessel – is listening to the man beside him and wants to do exactly as he says.

"What are you doing, leaving with a man like him, anyway, hmm?" the man asks.

Jeongguk, finding he is incapable of speaking anything but the absolute truth mutters, "I need the money, and you weren't there."

"You were hoping for me?" The man asks, lifting a dark eyebrow. "Why is that?"

"You're handsome…and you appear dangerous. I wanted to know what it was like to get lost in a man like you."

"Awe," the man groans as he leans close, right beside Jeongguk's ear, voice deep and dangerous, "little ol' me?"

"Yes," Jeongguk mutters, feeling any miniscule sense of control quickly leaving him as the man says, "Then come with me."

The man turns and begins to walk the way he came, and Jeongguk feels his limbs twist and buckle as if led by invisible strings. He stumbles as he attempts to keep up, unable to move his lips to speak or to pull his gaze away from the back of the man.

Lavender hair, broad shoulders, and an expensive suit – nothing else in the world exists. That is, until the man turns onto the still crowded street, and Jeongguk follows along so obediently that he causes pedestrians to trip over him.

Drunk people stumble and swear, telling him to watch his step, muttering under their breath about what a fucking degenerate he is. Jeongguk pays no mind – hardly hears them. All he can focus on is the strong man with the floral and musk scent, leading him along.

For the second time tonight, Jeongguk and a strange man approach an expensive car. Only this time, when the man motions for Jeongguk to get into the passenger seat, he doesn't think twice – couldn't think twice if he wanted to.

A voice in the back of his head wonders where they are going, what the man could want from him, how he is leading Jeongguk to act against his will. But he cannot form these thoughts into words; he cannot speak.

The car this man drives is nice – nicer than the generic sports car the other man drove. Far too nice to be flashing it around in a neighborhood like this. If the wrong person catches someone driving around this side of town in something this expensive, it is likely the owner will end up floating face down in the river by dawn.

Not that a man like this one has any reason to fear others.

"Close the door" the man commands as soon as Jeongguk slides into the passenger seat, and he does as he is told. Jeongguk can sense the man turning toward him as he asks, "Wanna see where our friend ended up?"

"Yes," Jeongguk mutters against any better judgment he could have. Ordinarily, he would never admit it, but he is curious.

The man chuckles, presses the ignition button, and speeds off down the road. Jeongguk sits stiff as a board, eyes wide and staring at the cars and buildings passing at speeds that he is terrified to comprehend in the middle of the city. And without a seatbelt, because the mysterious stranger never instructed him to put one on.

"What is your name, pretty?" the man asks, voice magnanimous but still containing an edge to it.

"Jeongguk," he mutters in response. "Jeon Jeongguk."

"Jeongguk," the man repeats nice and slow. His name sounds like honey dripping from the man's tongue, and Jeongguk wishes he could turn and properly see him. "My name is Namjoon. But you can call me sir."

"Yes, sir," Jeongguk responds without thinking.

Namjoon chuckles deeply, leaving the slums for the wealthy outskirts before veering off into the countryside. At the speed which Namjoon is driving, the outside may as well be a black abyss, shrouded in shadow. Headlights and taillights streak by as Namjoon weaves through lanes. And then, up ahead, Jeongguk sees it.

The bright glow of a large headlight shines up ahead, and as they approach, Jeongguk realizes the other headlight is obstructed by what hardly looks like a black car. The front of it is smashed almost like an accordion, surrounded in exploded glass.

“It’s safe to say he won’t be bothering you anymore,” Namjoon announces with a smile in his voice.

“Why did you do this?” Jeongguk mutters, unable to tear his eyes away from the crash.

“Look at me,” Namjoon commands, and Jeongguk’s head snaps to the left before he is able to think.

Namjoon is devilishly handsome – eyes sharp, dark almonds and heavy-lidded, with pillow lips pulled into a smirk. "I didn't like the way he touched you," he explains, lifting a hand to delicately caress Jeongguk's cheek. The touch is ice cold and electric, making Jeongguk suck in air quickly through his teeth.

Sirens and lights blare from in front of them and behind, and Namjoon lifts his eyebrow, then says, "Well, this is our cue to go!" while flashing a smile so bright, it gives Jeongguk chills.

Namjoon reverses and then whips around, tires screeching as the car does a 180 and speeds off back toward town. Jeongguk continues to watch Namjoon, eyes stuck on his side profile, in part because he is so beautiful, but also because he has not been given instruction to look elsewhere.

How Namjoon is able to weave through cop cars, fire trucks, and an ambulance without anyone turning their attention to him is beyond Jeongguk, but he is unable to think too deeply about it, mind too full of fog. Jeongguk expected Namjoon to continue driving deeper into the countryside and take him somewhere terrifyingly secluded, and he is surprised when the city lights return.

"What is a pretty thing like you doing in a place like that, anyway?" Namjoon asks, breaking a tense silence.

Jeongguk continues to stare at the side of Namjoon's face, feeling his pulse quicken when the man turns his gaze to him briefly with a hint of a smile.

"Places like that are where all pretty things like me end up," Jeongguk mutters somewhat methodically. He has more thoughts on the matter, but he finds that all his brain and mouth will offer are exact responses.

"And why is that?" Namjoon asks as he pulls to a red light and turns his full attention to Jeongguk.

Tears build in the edges of Jeongguk's eyes. He cannot tell whether it is because he has not blinked since he was told to look at Namjoon, or if the man has struck a nerve. He thinks perhaps it is somewhere in the middle.

"I'm a dropout with no direction," Jeongguk responds quietly, voice cracking around his words. "No rich parents…I don't have anything to offer but my body."

Ordinarily, when Jeongguk bothers to open up to men, they put on a pitying act. They promise Jeongguk this and that while assuring him that he does have purpose – he does have something to offer to the world. Namjoon, on the other hand, perks up. He practically snarls. And when the light turns green, he continues watching Jeongguk for a few more tense seconds.

"Ah, yes," the man finally says as he returns his gaze to the street and continues driving. "Another pretty face who could disappear and nobody would miss them."

Although Jeongguk feels like Namjoon is mocking him, there is no mockery in his tone. He is so perfectly matter of fact, that Jeongguk is unable to feel angry if he wanted to, because he is a classic case of a nobody, as far as anyone is concerned; Namjoon could murder him tonight and the only person who would notice him missing would be his boss, and even she wouldn't go looking for him.

"Do you like that job?" Namjoon asks as they begin to wind through darker streets that Jeongguk assumes is a more residential area.

Jeongguk quietly mutters, "No."

"Are there aspects about it you like at all?"

"I like dancing," Jeongguk responds as tears break and streak down his cheeks. His eyes feel dry and heavy, and he forces himself to partially blink, finding that his eyes will not close entirely. "And I like the attention. Getting spoiled by rich men is fun, but I wish most of them weren't so gross."

Namjoon laughs, turning his attention briefly to Jeongguk. His eyes appear to be dark black pools of nothing, and Jeongguk does not have a mind to question it.

"Do you think I'm gross?" he asks in a playful tone.

"No," Jeongguk responds instantly. "You're the most beautiful man I've ever seen."

"And if I want to spoil you?" Namjoon continues as he seems to pull to the side of the road but keeps his ignition on. He turns to fully face Jeongguk, cocking his head to the side.

"Please," Jeongguk all but whispers, then he clears his throat. "It will hurt like hell when you abandon me, but I'm used to it."

If Jeongguk were not spellbound, he would surely feel embarrassed over his admission. Being this honest with strange men is not his wheelhouse; he has never fully admitted to his feelings with anyone in the past.

"And if I choose not to abandon you?" Namjoon asks as he scrapes his pearly teeth over his plush bottom lip. Jeongguk's eyes follow the movement; he desperately wants to know how that lip feels between his own teeth.

"Don't tease me," Jeongguk responds, voice slow and distracted as he continues to stare at Namjoon's mouth.

Namjoon smiles wide and Jeongguk could swear his incisors were sharper than before. As he runs his tongue along the bottom edge of one pointed tooth, Jeongguk's heart gallops behind his ribs.

"Not a tease," Namjoon says with a snarl, sharp smile remaining on display. "But it would come with a price."

Jeongguk swallows thickly, gaze stuck on Namjoon's devilishly inviting mouth. "And wh-what is the price?"

Rather than respond, Namjoon shuts off the ignition. "Follow me," he commands as he gets out of the car, and for a split moment, Jeongguk's body pulls toward the driver's seat before correcting and opening the passenger side door.

Namjoon rounds the hood of the car and approaches a large, angular house set back in tall, spiky trees that appear massive in the pitch dark. Although there are other houses around, there is a feeling of seclusion as Jeongguk follows Namjoon down a short path and up a set of cement steps that lead to the side of the home rather than the front of it.

"Are you scared?" Namjoon asks over his shoulder.

Shadow closes in the further they walk. Jeongguk wants to say no, and he is disappointed when his mouth utters, "A little."

Namjoon punches a long passcode into a keypad, then pulls the massive wooden door open, holding out his hand as if to invite Jeongguk to enter. Only Jeongguk cannot enter, because his instruction was to follow.

"If I break the spell will you run?" Namjoon asks with a playful lift of an eyebrow.

"No," Jeongguk answers plainly. Where would he even go?

With a snap of Namjoon's fingers, Jeongguk's shoulders quickly droop and his body adjusts to the natural force of gravity that holds him. He takes in a deep breath, feeling his lungs fill painfully as his dry eyes blink away the last of the tears that had formed. Jeongguk is able to weigh whether or not he wants to enter this man's home, and even though he is certain that Namjoon is not entirely human, he finds he does not care.

So, with another deep breath, Jeongguk steps forward, into the dark space. He can hardly see what is in front of him, but he takes a few more steps and begins to toe out of his loosely laced boots, shaking his ankles until they hit the floor with a hollow thunk, one after the other, then bending to remove his socks, as well, worried they might stink.

Namjoon's home seems to come alive as the man walks deeper through the foyer and into a large living room. Sconces light on their own – faint golden glows that illuminate just enough but keep the space somewhat dark. The walls have deep red wallpaper with dark wood wainscoting, and there are large portraits hung throughout the space, all of which look like Namjoon painted during various artistic periods throughout history.

"This is…" Jeongguk mutters, eyes trailing from a faded image of Namjoon painted somewhat crudely over yellowed parchment to a clearer painting of Namjoon dressed as a nobleman in a style that would be centuries more recent than the last, but centuries older than the one they live in, now.

"Impressive?" Namjoon asks.

Jeongguk shakes his head, stopping in his tracks to look at his host fully. "Weird. This is fucking weird."

Namjoon smiles widely, standing tall before Jeongguk – as beautiful as he is terrifying. Jeongguk wants to lean close and run his hands over the man's chest and push away the lapels of his expensive jacket.

"I suppose it is quite weird," Namjoon responds, gaze becoming somewhat sad. "Seeing all and surpassing everyone I have ever come to know…hiding away as a monster…all of it is, indeed, quite weird."

Although Jeongguk is certain that he has full control of himself, the tingle persists, settling at the base of his spine and spreading a curious, eager warmth throughout. "Make me into a monster like you," he utters without really considering what he asks for.

Namjoon squints, gaze curious, almost mocking. “Do you know for what you ask, little one?”

And, sure, Jeongguk could wager a guess, but all he responds with in the moment is a petulant utterance of, “I’m basically the same height and build as you.”

With a hum, Namjoon takes a step forward, causing Jeongguk's entire body to react. He feels like cornered prey as his hips twist and he backs into the wall, heel hitting polished wood as a brass sconce scrapes the side of his head. Namjoon truly is only a bit taller but he looms over a cowering Jeongguk as he stands his full height, elongating his spine to look down at him.

"Yes, you are a sizable match in many ways," Namjoon says softly, raising a hand to gently detangle Jeongguk's hair from the elaborate sconce. "But I have lived lifetimes before finding you. Dynasties have risen, fallen, and faded into obscurity, and I have seen all. I could snuff your life out in the blink of an eye, like a tiny little rodent."

The absurdity in Namjoon's statement makes Jeongguk want to laugh, only he finds all he can do is snicker before something in Namjoon's presence makes his mouth rest. He has already experienced the man's magic…could he be telling the truth?

"Do it," Jeongguk urges, eager to reach out and touch Namjoon but incapable of lifting his arms.

"You don't know what you're asking for," Namjoon responds lowly, eyes appearing sad despite the edges of his lips rising.

"Aren't you lonely?" Jeongguk urges. He has no idea whether he and Namjoon would even get along, or whether they could be sexually compatible, but he is desperate for a life outside the one he has known for so long.

Namjoon smirks and drags his ice cold hands along the curve of Jeongguk's neck, making him shiver. His jacket hangs open, and Namjoon gently pushes the material back, running the backs of his hands down Jeongguk's chest, ribs, abdominals.

"You're so cold," Jeongguk mutters under his breath, watching as Namjoon's gaze follows his own hands. "Cold as death."

"That is correct, little one," Namjoon says, eyes flicking to his. "My own blood has not flowed through my veins for centuries."

Although Jeongguk struggles to wrap his mind around everything Namjoon says, it feels real…sort of. "Are you a zombie?" he mutters half to himself, not fully intending to say the words aloud.

Namjoon's eyes crinkle, his cheeks dimple, and he laughs. He laughs loud and boisterous, sounds echoing throughout dark space, and Jeongguk is certain that he has never seen or heard something more beautiful in his life. With a shake of his head, Namjoon continues to laugh, and Jeongguk stands and waits while the smallest smile creeps over his own lips.

"Not a zombie," Namjoon replies, still shaking his head. "But I am technically undead."

In a flash, Namjoon's expression darkens. His eyes go almost pitch black, and his incisors sharpen before Jeongguk's eyes, confirming that what he saw earlier was not a mistake. The familiar tingle works its way up Jeongguk's spine, only this time, it triggers his fight or flight response. All he can do is freeze.

"Namjoon," Jeongguk mutters as he presses further into the wall, hands shakily grazing over the ridges of wooden panels.

"You seem so eager to know what kind of monster I am," Namjoon responds, leaning close and wafting cold breath that reeks of decaying flowers over Jeongguk's face. "Shall I show you?"

"I—" Jeongguk croaks, voice becoming lost in his throat.

The tips of Namjoon's frigid fingers begin to dig into the skin of Jeongguk's tummy, just above his waistline, by his left hip. He doesn't remember Namjoon having long or sharp nails, but he swears he can feel his skin begin to puncture – he finds he is too afraid to look.

"You…what?" Namjoon prompts, dark eyes pooling with black abyss. "Too frightened to speak?"

Jeongguk's lips tremble, creaking broken sounds that find no resolve. He is absolutely horrified, and more curious than he has ever felt about anything before.

Namjoon lifts a hand, proving that what Jeongguk felt was real – the index and middle fingers have sharp claw-like nails that drip with blood. Jeongguk can feel wet warmth on his left hip, but he does not look; he can only stare as Namjoon lifts his hand to his lips and sucks the blood from his fingers.

The sounds Namjoon makes are borderline pornographic – hums and groans of pleasure. Jeongguk watches intently as Namjoon pulls his fingers from between his inviting lip – as Namjoon's pink tongue pokes out and laps up a drop of blood that has run between his fingers.

He knows he should glance down and assess what Namjoon has done to him, and he practically begs his brain to allow his gaze to move. He almost feels caught in the same trance as earlier, only Namjoon has not commanded anything; how is he trapped in place, unable to look away?

"God, I love that look of fear, confusion, intrigue," Namjoon purrs, voice somehow deeper than Jeongguk remembers. "We should really tend to that wound. Wouldn't want it to kill you."

"Would it?" Jeongguk murmurs, feeling somewhat dissociated from his skin. He does not feel pain, but he can feel the trickle of blood.

Namjoon begins to sink down to his knees, gaze never leaving Jeongguk's. Only when Namjoon settles and sits high, leaning toward where his nails dug deep enough to puncture skin, does Jeongguk see the wound. It does not bleed too badly, but it is leaving a wet black spot on his black pants.

Without a word, Namjoon opens Jeongguk's black denim jacket and pins the fabric to the wall with both palms. Then he leans in and licks a slow, firm path from the waistline of Jeongguk's jeans and over the wound.

Namjoon groans, eyelids fluttering as he licks and sucks. All Jeongguk can do is stare, watching Namjoon's tongue streak deep red before disappearing. Jeongguk cannot deny that it feels good. In fact, the visual of Namjoon on his knees before him, lapping at his skin with such hunger while his dark eyes stay on Jeongguk's face has arousal coursing through his veins just as quickly as oxygen does.

Jeongguk's cock begins to harden, and he decides it is best not to allow the myriad questions and concerns muddy the spell that Namjoon must have him under. One particularly firm flick of Namjoon's tongue makes Jeongguk shiver, and before he knows it, the pleasure he feels is enough to make him sigh out a hint of a moan. This catches Namjoon's attention and makes him grin, lips stained with blood and yet so inviting.

"Please," Jeongguk whispers, fingertips tingling to reach forward but planted to the wall.

"Please…what, little one?"

Without a clue as to what he is asking for, Jeongguk simply watches as Namjoon's hands lift from the wall and begin to rub over Jeongguk's skin, along the hem of his pants, to the fly, where he works the button open. Blood and saliva cover Namjoon's chin, and his ice cold fingers send another shiver down his spine.

Namjoon's eyes fall to Jeongguk's jeans – undoubtedly to the bulge that lifts the fabric – then he glances back up, grin widening with his sharp white teeth on display. He scrapes his tongue along his teeth before asking, "That turned you on?"

Jeongguk could swear Namjoon's pupils were brighter than before. No longer are they deep black pools, shining a rich umber that appear outlined in red – a trick of the light, Jeongguk surmises – and making him more alluring than ever.

All Jeongguk can do is nod, mouth too heavy and dry to make coherent sound. That did turn him on, and he is terrified of what it could mean for him.

In a blink, Namjoon is standing before him. Jeongguk startles, bumping his head into the sconce and wincing from the pain. Namjoon's chin is still smeared pinkish-red, and his breath smells like decaying flowers and iron.

"Do I scare you, little one?"

Jeongguk's exhale trembles from his lips, and his voice is barely audible as he says, "You know you scare me."

"Do you like it?"

Jeongguk doesn't give himself a chance to mull it over. "Sort of."

"I can scare you more if you would prefer."

Although he is certain that he should not be asking leading questions to someone who has proven himself to be a literal monster, Jeongguk swallows thickly then asks, "Why would you want to do that?"

Namjoon licks his lips and hums, putting on a show of thinking over his response. Then he leans in close to Jeongguk's ear, groaning through his words. "There is something about the way your blood courses through your veins when you are afraid that makes it taste…so…sweet."

Jeongguk's fight or flight impulse returns, and he tenses. Suddenly he wants to run far, far away from Namjoon. Worse, he thinks that he would like Namjoon to give chase.

"God, I can smell the fear on you, little one," Namjoon whines, rubbing his nose over Jeongguk's throat. "I'll give you a ten second head start if you want to run."

"Shit," Jeongguk mutters, suddenly unglued from the wall, limbs relaxing only to tense back up again. He was definitely just under Namjoon's spell, and he had no clear confirmation of it while it happened.

"Ten…" Namjoon says with a grin, taking a large step backward.

Jeongguk looks around the darkened space, unsure where he could even go.

Then Namjoon lifts a brow and cocks his head to the side as if silently asking Jeongguk what he is waiting for as he says, "Nine…"

Jeongguk runs to the right, deeper into the large house, blinking in the darkness while he attempts to get his bearings. There is no way he could hope to fight Namjoon off, so he does not attempt to go to the kitchen to search for anything sharp or heavy to use as a weapon. Not that he wants to fight Namjoon off, but a voice in the back of his head is telling him that he should.

Namjoon's voice echoes from behind him, calling, "Eight!"

Stairs come into view and Jeongguk storms upward, taking two at a time in the darkness, tripping over himself at the top landing and stumbling before pummeling shoulder first into a wall.

"Seven!"

There is a faint golden glow that comes from the far end of a long hall and Jeongguk runs toward it, bare feet sliding along hardwood and stomping onto carpeting. He can vaguely make out more portraits and photographs lining the walls, as well as closed and open doors.

"Six!"

Jeongguk slams his open palms into the door, which is cracked a few inches, and he stumbles into a bedroom. He is surprised by the furnishings, eyes finding velvet upholstery, intricately carved wood on a large four-poster bed, and matching wooden dressers and vanity.

"Five!"

Briefly, he considers hiding, but if Namjoon is truly able to smell his fear, he does not think he would be able to stay concealed for very long. He turns somewhat uselessly, noting a door that he assumes leads to a closet, lounge chairs deeper in the room, and a large glass door at the far end.

Running toward the door, he considers whether he may be able to jump off the balcony and chastises himself for not just running outside while he was still downstairs. This is how characters are caught in horror films, he reminds himself – by running upstairs instead of outside.

"Four!"

There is absolutely no way Namjoon wouldn't find him, if what he has said is true. But what if it is not? Jeongguk considers that some of what he has said could have been simply to scare him.

With a heavy sigh, Jeongguk pushes back thick, blood red curtains in search of which side of the glass panel is a door. On the far right, there is a black metal handle, with a small metal latch that Jeongguk works open.

"Three!"

Jeongguk feels a surge of excitement as he throws the door open, then instantly regrets his choice as he steps out into the cool night air. The balcony is large and rectangular, made of wrought iron and concrete, and it overlooks a steep hill that leads down to a large pond. Even if he could jump down safely, where the fuck would he go?

Without a proper shirt, he could catch any number of ailments from submerging himself in that water. But all thought of wanting to play Namjoon's game seeps away as Jeongguk's mind screams at him to get the fuck away from this house.

"Two!"

And there is no way in hell he would be able to outrun the man. Namjoon has already proven that he has the ability to move too fast for Jeongguk to even fathom. Fear spikes, and his teeth begin to rattle in the cold night air. All of this seems futile, and yet…he has to try.

Namjoon's voice calling, "One!" is all Jeongguk needs to close the glass door behind him and then run to the edge of the balcony. He hardly thinks of the repercussions as he throws his legs over the railing, one after the other. With a glance over his shoulder, he tells himself that if he can manage to land on his feet and roll down the hill, he has a pretty good chance at survival.

Jeongguk releases his hold on the railing, but rather than falling down, two strong, ice cold hands grip onto his wrists and yank him upward.

"Going somewhere, little one?" Namjoon teases as he effortlessly returns Jeongguk to the balcony.

Jeongguk cries out and trembles in the cold air, taking a step backward as soon as Namjoon lets go of his hands. His lower back hits the railing and he gasps, feeling like cornered prey once more.

"I thought you liked being afraid of me," Namjoon pouts, closing the space between them. "Were we not just playing a game?"

"I do…we are…I just—" Jeongguk cannot get his thoughts straight. Truth be told, as much as he considered flinging himself over the balcony, all he really wanted was for Namjoon to catch him. And catch him, he has. But what does this mean for Jeongguk?

"Are you afraid of death?" Namjoon asks, cocking his head to the side. His reddish-brown eyes seem to glow in the pale light of the moon.

Without hesitation, Jeongguk shakes his head, muttering, "No."

"But you are afraid of me?"

As Jeongguk licks his lips, he watches Namjoon's eyes follow the movement. He wants Namjoon's tongue back on his body, and maybe…just maybe…he wants to become whatever Namjoon is.

"Sort of," he admits.

Namjoon steps so close, Jeongguk can feel the cold radiate from him. But he likes the way Namjoon's thigh slots between his legs. He likes how Namjoon's lips feel as they graze his throat as he says, "Elaborate, my sweet."

"I want to know you," Jeongguk says, eyes fluttering closed. "I want to become like you. But I don't…I don't know what that means."

"Life as you know it will be over," Namjoon breathes against his neck, forcing each of Jeongguk's exhales to shake from his lungs.

Jeongguk is certain that there is nothing more inviting than leaving his life behind. "I know. That's what I want."

Namjoon takes a step back, just far enough that he can look Jeongguk in the eye. For the first time, he appears uncertain, and perhaps even a little sad. His hands gently cup Jeongguk's face, thumb leaving a chilled path over his cheek. "The first few months of this new existence will be full of pain and confusion."

With a scoff, Jeongguk mutters, "My entire life has been full of pain and confusion."

There is understanding in Namjoon's eyes, and Jeongguk questions everything he knows about the man. Could someone so delicate and handsome really be a monster?

But then Jeongguk remembers the wound on his hip, and the superhuman speed, and the way Namjoon can command Jeongguk to think and do exactly what he wants. And he thinks he wants to have that kind of power all to himself.

Without another word, Namjoon takes Jeongguk's hand and pulls him back inside the warmth of his bedroom. He releases Jeongguk's hand to close and lock the sliding glass door, and then he pulls the deep red curtains closed, leaving the two of them in the golden glow of a lamp that sits on the other side of the room, beside the massive bed.

Namjoon turns and begins to make his way toward the bed, arms lifted and moving in a way that suggests he may be unbuttoning his jacket. It takes Jeongguk a moment to follow him, stepping softly onto an intricate rug that covers most of the floor.

"I don't turn people often," Namjoon says as he looks over his shoulder and then begins to shrug out of his jacket. "In fact, I only planned to drain you tonight. If you were interested, I would have wanted to fuck you first, but ultimately, the plan was to leave you to die."

Something about Namjoon's candor is not only oddly comforting, but alluring. Perhaps Jeongguk should be most concerned with the bit about draining him and leaving him to die, but all he finds he can circle back to is the thought of Namjoon wanting to fuck him.

Of course, he saw the way Namjoon licked at his skin, and his jeans are still unbuttoned from Namjoon opening them before deciding he would rather play a sordid game of cat and mouse. So it should really come as no surprise.

"Guess that makes me special," Jeongguk responds somewhat cheekily, feeling there is still a bit of a heaviness that hangs in the air, making him nervous.

Namjoon spins on socked feet with his black button-up shirt halfway undone, nimble fingers working a button just below his pecs. The expanse of bare skin is inviting, and paired with the hungry look in Namjoon's eyes, it sends a thrill through Jeongguk.

"I have been wanting a companion for some time," Namjoon says, "and you do seem like a worthy man. You are very pretty, and I like your attitude."

"A companion?" Jeongguk responds, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He is not exactly a relationship type of guy, and suddenly, he feels a bit apprehensive. "Don't you think that's moving a little fast?"

In a blink, Namjoon is standing before Jeongguk, pushing at the collar of his jacket. Jeongguk actually chuckles at the thought that Namjoon's response to his remark was to quite literally move too fast.

"Once I turn you," Namjoon mutters as Jeongguk's denim is pushed past his shoulders and begins to slide down his arms, "you will depend wholly on me for quite some time. Your hunger and other urges will be so strong that it will physically pain you to exist, and I will be the only tether you will have to any sense of sanity."

With a roll of his eyes, Jeongguk says, "You make it sound so dramatic," all the while his jacket crumples on the rug around his feet.

Namjoon grabs the black tie that hangs around Jeongguk's neck and gently yanks on it, forcing Jeongguk to stumble into Namjoon and place his palms against his cold, muscular chest.

"Not to mention," Namjoon adds with a lift of his brow, "after I fuck you, you won't want to leave my side."

At this, Jeongguk scoffs, rubbing his hands over Namjoon's clothed nipples, which harden to the touch. His shirt hangs open around the waistline, still tucked in and forgotten.

"I've been with a lot of men," Jeongguk challenges, tilting his head to the side. "A lot of men who have made a lot of empty promises. What makes you think you're so special?"

Namjoon's grip on the tie tightens, then releases, and he reaches for Jeongguk's left wrist, gently lifting it to his lips.

"Oh, my darling boy," he mutters, lips dragging over Jeongguk's skin. "I have experienced centuries of pleasure. Those so-called men could not possibly fathom what I have to offer. And, not to mention…" Namjoon lifts his mouth and smiles widely, showing off his sharp teeth in a way that is both too menacing and intriguing for Jeongguk to comprehend. "...I can show you pleasurable pain the likes of which so few living men have ever experienced."

Without warning, Namjoon sinks his teeth into Jeongguk's wrist. The pain is so white-hot intense that Jeongguk's entire body tenses and he attempts to yank himself free. Namjoon's eyes open widely before rolling back, and he moans with pleasure as he retracts the teeth that have left two puncture marks in Jeongguk's skin, and he begins to suck.

Blood play is something that Jeongguk has always done his best to steer clear of, and now this monstrous man has already made him bleed twice. What is more, Namjoon seems to really enjoy the taste of his blood – is this what he meant by draining Jeongguk and leaving him to die? Does Namjoon actually drink blood?

Jeongguk almost misses the tingle that works over his skin, leaving goosebumps and warmth in its wake. "You son of a bitch," he mumbles, knees turning loose like gelatin. "You're charming me again, aren't you?"

With a deep groan, Namjoon releases Jeongguk's wrist. Blood pools in two tooth-sized holes, and he is certain that he would be panicking over the blood loss if it were not for the mind control, or whatever the fuck Namjoon is done to him.

"I prefer the term compulsion, but charm works, too," Namjoon says. He drags his tongue over Jeongguk's wrist, streaking it with red.

"Will you be able to do this to me even after you have made me whatever you are?"

Namjoon smirks, responding, "Sadly, no. My charm only works on humans. Living humans." He drops Jeongguk's wrist, and even Jeongguk is surprised by how heavy his arm feels; he wonders if he is only standing because Namjoon has somehow commanded his limbs to do so.

"I like the charm," Jeongguk mutters, feeling somewhat dizzy and light. "I like how shimmery and floaty it makes me. But I want to experience the fear and the pain. Please."

Jeongguk knows, somewhere in his mind, that what he is asking for might be something he comes to regret. But if what Namjoon says is true – if he really is going to transform Jeongguk into something not human – then Jeongguk wants to feel those intense human emotions one last time.

With a wide grin, Namjoon reaches down and begins to unzip Jeongguk's jeans. "As you wish, my pretty little human," he says, dropping to his knees. "But don't be surprised if it becomes unbearable. Now…let us finish what we started downstairs, shall we?"

He is silent and still as his senses return, watching as Namjoon reaches with sharp nails into the waistband of Jeongguk's briefs and begins to yank his garments down. Slowly, Jeongguk lifts his arm, feeling somewhat distressed that his wrist continues to bleed enough that blood runs down his palm and drips from his fingers.

He even considers whether he should bandage the wound and apply pressure and all of that first aid stuff, but the feeling of Namjoon's ice cold palms gripping onto his half-hard cock has all thought leaving Jeongguk's mind.

"Whoa," Jeongguk mutters, feeling the forces of gravity momentarily disagree with his body as he shifts on his feet in an attempt not to fall. Even from just a single touch, Jeongguk is buzzing and needy for more.

"Ever do temperature play?" Namjoon asks as his hands stroke Jeongguk to fully erect.

Jeongguk is not sure he even knows what that is, and he shakes his head, saying, "No."

"Some find the chill of my mouth to be rather exquisite," Namjoon responds without missing a beat, sitting high on his knees.

The cold, wet drag of Namjoon's tongue along the length of Jeongguk's shaft makes him groan and shiver. It is striking how different it feels, and he struggles somewhat to get his bearings. And then Namjoon opens wide and engulfs Jeongguk's cock, causing him to sob out from how cold but simultaneously wet and inviting his mouth is.

"Fuck," Jeongguk groans, lifting his hands to grip onto Namjoon's lavender hair. "Holy fuck."

Namjoon sucks Jeongguk's dick with a fervor he has never experienced. With seemingly no gag reflex, Namjoon swallows deep and hard, groaning when Jeongguk's hips buck and tremble uncontrollably. Pleasure builds and crashes inside him, and he worries he may cum in an instant.

And then he feels the sharp drag of teeth against his cock, and fear spikes so intensely that he roughly tugs on Namjoon's hair, to no avail. Namjoon stares up at Jeongguk as he presses the tip of his cock far into his throat, causing tears to form in his pretty, dangerous eyes.

He is certain that Namjoon is fucking with him – making him feel the fear that he asked for only moment ago – and he does his best to relax. With his pants and briefs hugging around his ankles, it is not as if Jeongguk would be able to go anywhere, anyway; Namjoon more or less has him trapped, as always.

Namjoon hums deep as his eyes flutter closed and he slurps and sucks, picking up speed. He wraps his hands around Jeongguk's hips and manually rocks Jeongguk against him, forcing him to fuck his mouth. Jeongguk finds the rhythm with his hips, though the pleasure is so overwhelming, he is certain that he will bust very soon.

"Oh, god," Jeongguk moans, head lolling back while he continues to hold Namjoon by the hair. "I'm gonna cum."

As he chases his high, his hips rock faster, and Namjoon accommodates without any trouble, slurping and sucking and humming to the rhythm of Jeongguk's body. Even as flashes of Namjoon's terrible superhuman speed and affinity to lick his bleeding wounds play through his mind, Jeongguk only becomes more aroused rather than disgusted, pushing him over the edge.

Namjoon swallows deeply the moment Jeongguk opens his mouth to croak out a warning that only falls from his lips as a moan. He cums hard, whimpering and sobbing as his body bends at the hips and threatens to topple over. Somehow, Jeongguk remains on his feet, hands sliding down to Namjoon's shoulders to anchor himself up.

When Namjoon finally releases his cock, Jeongguk is relieved to find there is no blood. His relief is quickly dashed, however, when he notices red streaks in Namjoon's hair and realizes his wrist is still bleeding. Not only that, but he feels incredibly dizzy, and he is certain that it cannot be entirely from how talented Namjoon is at sucking dick.

As Jeongguk lightly lifts his left arm and watches blood trickle past his fingers, he sighs. He should really be more concerned about bleeding to death, and he wonders if Namjoon has compelled him not to care.

"On the bed," Namjoon instructs as he stands and finishes untucking and unbuttoning his black dress shirt. "I want to enjoy you while you're still warm."

Jeongguk grumbles something under his breath that even he is uncertain of, then stumbles forward, forgetting that his pants are still snug around his ankles. He reaches for Namjoon, who takes hold of his non-bleeding arm, and uses him as leverage to step out of his right pant leg and then his left.

Wearing only the black tie around his neck, Jeongguk shuffles over to the bed, placing his palms against cold black satin and hoisting himself up. He is definitely woozy, and he practically falls face-first onto the blanket before crawling to where he surmises is the center.

The mattress dips and Jeongguk is shoved down against the bed, gasping as he uselessly tries to find purchase against the sheet. Cold hands press his ass and spread him wide before an even colder tongue laps over his hole, making Jeongguk tremble and sob.

Namjoon is rough with the way he prods Jeongguk open, barely giving him time to adjust before stretching him further. Jeongguk would beg for him to slow down if he weren't so enthralled with the way Namjoon handles him, and he wonders once again if he is charmed by the monster, as well.

"So pliant and tight," Namjoon groans. "And so warm."

Jeongguk loses track of which ice cold appendage or muscle prises him open, occasionally feeling one wetter than the others. It isn't until Namjoon shoves him roughly onto his back that Jeongguk watches a beautifully nude monster in the form of a human man spread his thighs nice and wide and begin to spear him on his thick, frigid cock.

When barely a sound louder than a croak comes from between Jeongguk's lips, Namjoon pouts mockingly, whining, "Awe, don't die just yet, little one; give me one more orgasm first."

All Jeongguk can do is lay and take what Namjoon gives him, barely capable of moving his own limbs. The bed is soaked with blood that he knows has come from his wrist, and although Namjoon's cock feels incredible inside him, he is unsure whether his own cock is hard at all.

"Fuck," Namjoon groans as he leans forward with one hand anchored against the bed. He looks impatient as he lifts his other wrist to his mouth and pierces his teeth into the flesh.

Jeongguk gasps at the sight, certain that now they are both doomed; surely they cannot both survive puncture wounds to their arteries. Never mind everything Namjoon said earlier about surviving centuries, and all that.

Namjoon, on the other hand, only seems mildly inconvenienced as he holds his wrist above Jeongguk's face and allows his blood to drip down onto his mouth.

At first, Jeongguk flinches, disgusted by the ice cold, thick and brassy blood that drops onto his lips and chin. He closes his lips tight in the hope of keeping any of the liquid from seeping in. But then he gets a taste of the blood, and everything changes.

Instantly, Jeongguk feels a pull to Namjoon that seems to take him by storm. He needs the blood, and he needs it now – of that, he is certain.

Jeongguk reaches up with weak hands and grips onto Namjoon's hand and arm, tugging the bleeding wrist down to his lips. With an amused chuckle, Namjoon complies, giving Jeongguk what he needs while continuing to fuck into him.

The combination of drinking blood from Namjoon's wrist while getting fucked by him feels like there is glitter shimmering in his bloodstream, alighting every blood vessel. Arousal crashes more intensely than it had before, and Jeongguk not only feels healed from his earlier wound, but he feels strong.

The blood also tastes better than anything Jeongguk has ever sampled before, and he is desperate to get his fill, eyes rolling back as he moans and sucks and moans some more. He feels fucking drunk.

Namjoon is a mess of groans and whimpers, and he begins to yank his wrist away from Jeongguk, who grips tightly with both hands as if his life depends on it. He is certain beyond a shadow of a doubt that without this blood, he may die.

"Enough, little one," Namjoon grits, clearly struggling as his hips continue their assault, smacking sounds echoing loudly in the otherwise quiet room. Before, Jeongguk could swear he heard and felt the pounding of his own heart, but now there is nothing.

Jeongguk finally releases his hold, moaning and sobbing through the quick, dizzying build and crash of an orgasm. Without warning, he sprays cum on his tummy, only to feel the pleasure build and build once again.

"Yes, that's it," Namjoon moans, reaching to cradle Jeongguk's head, which lolls uselessly against the satin sheet, "I want you to cum again."

Namjoon grips onto Jeongguk's thighs, spreading him impossibly wider, and fucks him at a pace so punishing, he worries Namjoon's cock might burrow too deep inside him. Briefly, he considers begging for a break, but the feeling is so euphoric, he only teeters on the edge of overstimulation without fully plunging over.

But then he begins to black out. Little blips of time and space at first, before he wonders if he is imagining things, entirely. Jeongguk blinks his heavy eyelids open to find Namjoon appearing like some kind of beast from hell with long, sharp teeth and glowing red eyes, fucking him with a fervor that almost feels like hatred.

And then he imagines his chest being clawed open. The pain is dreadful, but he is also being fucked so good, he is incapable of reconciling the two feelings. He even thinks that perhaps all the blood in his body erupts from his chest cavity in one final, harrowing tug of strong cold hands ripping him at his ribs like an animal carcass.

And then he wakes up.

He feels no pain or fatigue as his eyes blink open. In fact, he feels more invigorated and alert than he has in all of his life. There is nobody in the bed beside him, and as he glances around, he realizes that it must be dark outside, which begs the question of whether it is the same night, or whether he has fucked and slept well into the following night.

The events of his night with Namjoon are so eerie, that as they seep in and he begins to remember what happened, he almost feels confused. Certainly none of that could have been real, but he clearly remembers the man existing, and he has woken up in a bed that must belong to Namjoon.

Jeongguk sits up and stretches his limbs, pleased with how incredible he feels. He thinks that he could run a marathon and hardly break a sweat with the energy that courses through him, and he surprises himself with how it takes hardly any exertion at all to toss the comforter aside.

Discarded on the floor are his jeans, briefs, and jacket, and folded on the nightstand appears to be his tie. However, Jeongguk decides that he is feeling brazen, and he stands from the bed and heads for the door in the nude. He feels so invigorated that he wants to find Namjoon and entice him into bending him over whichever surface they encounter first and fucking him until he is dizzy.

As Jeongguk makes his way out of the master suite and down along the second floor hallway, he becomes aware of two things simultaneously. The first is the smell, and the second is the sound.

Just before the top landing of the stairs, to the right, there is a door cracked open and a light on inside, and without giving it any thought whatsoever, Jeongguk knows that what he senses is coming from that room, so he picks up his pace and walks a little quicker, feet padding over a soft rug that lines the center of the hallway.

Nothing can prepare Jeongguk for what he walks in on when he opens the door, nor can it ready him for the way the scene makes him feel.

In the dead center of a rather small, dimly lit room, is a nude person restrained by the wrists and ankles to a large wooden X. Blood pours from the person's left wrist and arm, and Namjoon stands off to the side, to the right of the person, also nude with blood covering his chin.

Before Jeongguk can make his presence known, Namjoon's eyes are on him, and his grin is wide. "Hello, my little fledgling," Namjoon calls somewhat menacingly as he turns his body fully to Jeongguk and opens his arms wide and invitingly.

Jeongguk should be horrified, but instead he is filled with an overwhelming need to taste. He shuffles forward, almost robotically, and approaches Namjoon, slotting himself against his side, beneath one of his open arms. And then he begins to lick the blood from Namjoon's chin.

The person restrained to the X groans – the sound that Jeongguk is certain he heard earlier – and rather than filling him with the urge to save or protect the person, Jeongguk finds he almost wants to mock the person and make them produce even more desperate sounds. In fact, Jeongguk finds that more than anything, he wants to rip the person's skin open and drink all of their blood.

"I trust you slept well?" Namjoon asks sweetly as Jeongguk finishes lapping the blood from his chin and turns his attention to their captor.

"I did," Jeongguk mutters, surprised by the quality of his own voice. He sounds dreamy, almost as if he is put under yet another one of Namjoon's spells, only this time, all he can focus on is the blood that trickles down the stranger's arm.

Namjoon's fingertips on Jeongguk's chin and throat no longer feel cold, yet Jeongguk shivers to the touch as Namjoon asks, "And how do you feel?"

Moments ago, Jeongguk felt more alive than ever before, but now—

"Hungry."

To simply say he feels hungry is an understatement, but Jeongguk is so wholly enthralled by the wriggling person captive before him, it is all he can express.

Fingertips push back at the hair around Jeongguk's forehead and neck in a delicate motion that makes him swoon for blood even more. Is this his life now? To crave and to drink and be loved? Is Namjoon really the monster he says he is?

"Feed, my darling. Drink until you feel their pulse still."

A strange pain overtakes Jeongguk's mouth, and he quickly reaches to his gums to feel the impossible – his incisors are sharp, just as Namjoon's had been. With a gasp, he turns to Namjoon, startled. What strange ritual has taken place? Has he already begun to change? Is he already dead?

Namjoon cups the end of Jeongguk's chin and smiles softly, asking, "What are you waiting for?"

Jeongguk has so many questions that swirl and dizzy him, but the only thing he can bring himself to care about is that tangy, inviting scent of blood. He stands high on his tippy toes and reaches for the person's wrist, but Namjoon presses a hand over Jeongguk's chest, keeping him from reaching with his lips.

"The neck is so much better, my little darling." Namjoon reaches to tap his sharp fingers on the side of the throat. "Sink your teeth in right here, where you can see their heart beating."

Without hesitation, Jeongguk steps forward, grips the captor by the hair and roughly moves their head to the side. He can see the pulse beating against their skin – can hear the sound of their heart as if its squeeze and relax were being amplified straight into Jeongguk's mind. When he leans in close, dragging his lips over the skin, there is an alluring scent that seems so indescribably human that pulls him closer.

Jeongguk sinks his teeth into the skin of the person's neck just as he had watched Namjoon sink his teeth into his own wrist, feeling a spark of arousal as the person whimpers and sobs. It takes him by surprise how much he has to really dig his sharp teeth into the flesh, but once it breaks, the blood pours into his mouth. So much, in fact, that he gasps and feels it run down his chin.

It takes Jeongguk a moment to realize he needs to pull his teeth from the puncture wounds to properly drink from the skin, but once he does, he feels every inch of himself burst and bloom with life. How could Namjoon call himself undead when this is the most energized he has ever felt?

Jeongguk can feel the heartbeat against his lips – can feel as it slows. The captive continues to wiggle and cry out, but it is impossible for them to match Jeongguk's strength as he languidly sucks and licks at the pouring blood. He even decides he has had his fill before their heart has a chance to stop.

"All done, my darling?" Namjoon asks, taking Jeongguk by the chin and licking over his neck and his lips and anywhere the blood may have been spilt.

Jeongguk smiles and shrugs, saying, "You can finish them," and steps aside to watch Namjoon take his place at their neck. Blood pours from the wound down the dip of their clavicle and chest, and Namjoon licks a streak leading to their wounds, groaning as his lips close over the holes.

Something about this visual makes Jeongguk desperate to feel Namjoon on and inside him – makes him want Namjoon to rip him apart and piece him back together again. Despite feeling sated, he also yearns so desperately to be fucked and adored and touched and tasted.

Namjoon must sense it – or, perhaps, knows the way he must feel – and he steps away from the body that hangs lifelessly and smiles with blood-stained lips as he closes the space between their bodies to bring Jeongguk in for a kiss.

Every cell of Jeongguk's body yearns for Namjoon. In an act of desperation, Jeongguk spins out of Namjoon’s hold and places his palms against the wall near the open door leading to the hallway. He pushes his ass out and glances over his shoulder, batting his lashes and asking, "Please?"

Namjoon drops to his knees and wastes no time tongue-fucking Jeongguk until he is whimpering and begging for more. Jeongguk must still be stretched from before, because Namjoon presses his cock in nice and deep without much preparation and grips Jeongguk by the neck as he carves him open, bowing Jeongguk's back so their faces touch.

"All mine," Namjoon growls as he fucks Jeongguk so hard he fears his spine might just snap. "My pretty little fledgling, I will never let you go. All you need in this world is me. All you are in this world is mine."

"Yours," Jeongguk babbles between sobs and broken consonants, speeding toward orgasm as his body struggles to keep up with the myriad sensations that overwhelm.

In between moments of blissful pleasure come fierce, sharp moments of confusion, pain, and a thirst so unlike anything Jeongguk has ever experienced. It is as if he blacks out occasionally and returns a fiendish monster whose only drive is to kill, kill, kill!

Namjoon placates him at times, pushing his buttons to make him more devilish – more angry. He fills Jeongguk's mind with a distrust for humans and teaches him how to lurk in the shadows and hunt.

"When you learn to control your urges better," Namjoon assures, balls-deep in him beside two corpses in a dark alleyway with Jeongguk's leg slung over his hip, "I will teach you how to blend into society better."

Jeongguk has no idea how much time passes, but he lives only in darkness, only to feed on the blood of living humans, only to serve and please Namjoon. He feels frustrated, confused, and angry with Namjoon, who seems to lavish Jeongguk's unfettered need to be by his side.

Despite the overwhelming pleasure and insatiable appetite Namjoon has for fucking him, Jeongguk feels trapped both in his need, and in his desire, to stay by Namjoon's side.

"The urges will pass, my darling fledgling," Namjoon promises against his lips, hand tugging Jeongguk's cock until he screams out Namjoon's name. "Until then, I will take such good care of you. All you need in this world is me. All you are in this world is mine.”

THANK YOU FOR READING!!!! 🦇🩸🧛‍♂️🍂🎃👻😈💀 HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!!!

i hope you had fun with this. please do not ask for a part two lmao my brain is mush and i refuse to perceive these two further. i have too many eggs in too many baskets!!!

COMMENTS AND REBLOGS MAKE ALL THE DIFFERENCE, AND LIKES ARE SUPER APPRECIATED, TOO!!! 💜💜💜

no tag list for dead dove contents! thanks for understanding!!!

#namkook #namjoon smut #jungkook smut #namjoon scenarios #jungkook scenarios #namjoon vampire #bts horror #bts smut #bts vampire #bts dead dove #fic: fledgling #bts fantasy & fangs

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