#i may or may not have lost control of my plot

[zeawesomebirdie]

So guess who officially sorted out like 95% of part 2 of the Old West!AU

[mariyekos]

One of the things that makes me feel crazy on DMC5 replays is the way V phrases his request to Dante.

He doesn't say "we need your help to stop the demon." He says "A powerful demon is about to resurrect, and we need your help, Dante." The implication seems to be that V needs Dante's help to stop it...but if you've played it before, that's not what he's really asking. V needs Dante's help in order for the resurrection to take place. Because until Urizen is weakened V has no chance of rejoining him, so he needs Dante's help to weaken Urizen so he's primed for merging and bringing about Vergil's resurrection. The "we" V refers to could also absolutely be both V and Urizen in that case, instead of just some general "we" of humanity. So he's not really asking for help to stop the resurrection, but instead to bring it about, hiding the truth in plain sight and careful wording.

The DMC 5 localization can be wonky in some places, but in other places it just shines. "We need your help, Dante." Not to stop it. He never says that. It's to bring about the resurrection itself.

[justslightlymental]

"All of them goddamn" - Saja Boys x Reader

Yo... This is just pure smut with just slight plot, also shoutout to this person @k45kart for the idea. (sorry if i tagged wrong person) also another person who wanted to be tagged: @eliengoddes

Okay uhh anyways TW or whatever warnings: Smut, gangbang (obviously) 5 demons cmon guys, I MAY HAVE WRITTEN JINUS NAME WRONG SO IM SORRY. Oral sex both receiving, degrading, praising, uhhh p in v, without protection (dont do this if u dont want kids.) Marking, breeding lowkey, demons going out of control. MAYBE SLIGHT DUB CON??? (its very much consensual but my writing style might fart on itself.) I forgot what else. Cringe warning i havent written anything in ages okay - Everything was okay.. Everything was going to be FINE… The fans were happy with our newest song… And the Honmoon was shining brighter than ever, even a tingle of gold flashing across our eyes, we were so close!!! But then Rumi lost her voice, right in the middle of our rehearsal for our live premiere of “Golden”. Before any of us could say anything she asked for 5 minutes and just ran off to god knows where! “Oh my god, what are we gonna do??” Zoey panicked, her arms flailing around. “Calm down Zoey.. It’s going to be fine… just give her some time alright?” Mira placed a hand on her shoulder to calm Zoey down, though I could see through her poker face. “Yeah, like Mira said. Give her some time… surely she will come in time.” I said, a nervous/worried smile across my face. And she never came… The next time we saw her was at our apartment, she looked shaken up. The only thing we could offer in that moment was comfort and that we did. We decided to go out for some dinner. Rumi still didn’t seem like herself, until she finally spoke. “I'm sorry about the show..” “It’s okay.. don’t worry about it!” Zoey smiled, placing a hand on her forearm. “Besides, Bobby will handle it.” I smiled as well, trying to comfort her.

And just like that he called us and once we answered we heard loud voices in the background and an out of breath Bobby yelling about how he can’t handle this, so many disappointed fans and the network losing their minds. Mira quickly shut off the phone. “We can just schedule another live show within days. Don’t worry!” “I don't think that's possible… my voice, it's in trouble..” Rumi said, awkwardly. “In trouble?? Then why did you push up the Golden release then?” Mira continued, confused. “My guess is the Honmoon, isn’t that right?” I smiled softly.

“(Name) is right.. The Honmoon.. it flashed gold, we are so close and it's so important!”

After that dinner we were brainstorming how to fix Rumi’s voice quickly. And Zoey had the “best” idea to go get some magical tonics from this one place she had heard of. And after we finally got the tonics and as we came out of the clinic Zoey was rambling on about after getting her voice back we could finally focus back on the important stuff like fans-

“Fans!” Mira whisper shouted as we saw some shadows turning into the alleyway we were in, our disguises were not the best so we tried our best to quickly become more unrecognizable-

Until we saw THEM..

Our eyes went wide as the guys walked our way, they all looked so… handsome so sexy… Rumi was the only one who didn’t look absolutely down bad until she saw the 5th guy with black hair.

Meanwhile I was looking at each and every one of them, I mean yeah some of them looked a bit sexier than others but I guess that’s because they're more my time than the others.. When they passed us I could honestly feel all of their gaze landing on me for just a moment before they continued on their way. What the fuck just happened.

And that is how we met our WORST enemies for the first time. Turned out they were a fucking demon boyband. DEMONS in a boyband yeah that's right! I don't know what crack Gwi-ma was on when he sent them to our world but IT’S WORKING. Though I do have to admit… I wonder what it would feel like if-

I smacked my head against the wall groaning, BAD (Name) BAD!!! Do not think of such unholy thoughts about your enemy, especially DEMONS.

We got suited up in our battle gear and oh my I must admit we are always so fabulous. We knew the boyband who are now better known as the “Saja Boys” would be at this game show tonight, we stood backstage looking at them gulping huge amounts of hot sauce, uh yikes. That’s gonna burn coming out- AANYWAY! Rumi said we should wait for them to come backstage and then jump down and make quick work of them, the perfect surprise attack!

We giggled a bit in anticipation as we took our spot over the stage, looking down at them. Little did we know the Jinu guy had noticed us and just as he took the mic talking about “special guests” joining us the lights turned to us at the same time he announced our name. We quickly hid our weapons and forced huge smiles on our faces.

“Yeahh! Hello everyone! We just wanted to yknow congratulate the Saja boys for their successful debut!” Rumi said with forced enthusiasm And after that the game show host and saja boys themselves said we should all slide down into the ballpit, the audience got in on it too so of course we had to oblige, though the leather we wore really made it… awkward to say, the noise was horrible too. Once we finally made it into the ballpit everyone still cheered and now it would be the time to end the show, both us and the Saja boys bowed to each other in fake gratitude and respect as the curtains closed. However once we were finally out of the publics eye they ran off within seconds and we almost had no idea where, but we managed to be able to track them down, to a fucking bathhouse. We had no choice but to go in and it was thankfully empty, and there they stood. “You really followed us here? The men's portion? You guys really are thirsty huh.” Jinu chuckled along with his bandmates. Then the demons came out of nowhere from small ruptures, but like there were a lot of them. You couldn’t lose focus for even a second and if you did it might be game over. At one point my eyes landed on Jinu who just smirked “Have fun you four.” He said as he ran off with everyone else. I looked behind me to see Mira, Zoey and Rumi in a deep fight, they seemed to be taking care of everything fine though, so I took off running after Jinu. I jumped into the air ready to slash him but he managed to dodge my blows one after another, until I finally managed to kick him in the stomach. We landed in a secluded room, it seemed to be a small sauna, the heat made both of our bodies sweaty, yuck disgusting. Finally I managed to corner him, my (weapon’s) handle against his throat as he tried to push me off. The adrenaline was flowing through me, maybe that’s why I felt extra strong right now. “Hah.. you’re a bit stronger��� But not strong enough for all of us…” Jinu chuckled. That had me confused, until I could sense the presence of four other people behind us. My eyes widened and my throat closed up on itself. I couldn’t move, I don’t know if I was sweating from the heat or from the fact 5 extremely attractive demon guys were currently alone with me. Jinu quickly took advantage of my shock and pushed me away, I landed on my back, gasping for air. It hurt a little bit but nothing could compare to the sight after I opened my eyes groaning. “There you are… Sorry about the push, hopefully you're not too hurt darling.” Jinu smirked, his eyes glowing a little bit. “G-Get away from me!” I struggled, quickly standing up and forming my weapon once again, surrounded by them.

“Still got a fighting spirit huh? We like that… But don’t think we haven’t seen the way you look at us.. And honestly the feelings are mutual.” Jinu smirked, his fingers slightly grazing my cheek. I was speechless, I felt so small surrounded by them. I could feel their eyes roam my body, taking in every curve and shape. My knees were growing weak, I could feel my body reacting in ways I haven’t felt in awhile. I felt embarrassed, my cheeks flushing a deep red as I tried to not look at any of them. I felt a hand on my shoulder making me flinch. “Calm down bunny.. I won’t hurt you.. too bad.” A deep voice whispered into my ear, I turned around quickly seeing the guy named “Abs”. (bit of a silly name tbh…) ANYWAY “D-don’t-” I struggled to form words until a hand covered my mouth, it was Juni. “Yeah, you’re right… No one has to speak…” He smirked, his other hand slowly going down from my shoulder towards my chest. My eyes widened, I should be struggling, I should be fighting them… But for some reason I wanted this, I wanted them all… I felt myself growing more hot and bothered by the second. The 8 pair of eyes watching Jinu’s every movement, and my reaction. It turned me on so bad. And I swear to god I feel like they could sense my need, with the way their eyes seemed to sharpen with lust. “What do you want…” Jinu asked, uncovering my mouth. “I-I want you… I want you all..” My words were quiet, but that didn’t seem to bother them. It was like a trigger, they had my consent and they wouldn’t back away now. Juni fell back towards one of the seats with me landing on his lap. I moaned out as I felt my ass on his crotch, and he was hard. His knees separating mine as I was exposed to the other guys, not completely nude.. yet. I didn’t even care about how fucked out I already looked, all I cared about was getting that sweet release. “Someone’s impatient hm?” Jinu whispered before his lips attacked my neck, his sharp teeth grazing my skin. I whimpered, it felt so good. The other guys had come closer as well, Romance sitting down on my right side and Mystery on my left. Both of their hands found their way to my chest, feeling me up through my suit. Who knew it felt this fucking good to be touched by like 5 guys at the same time. Oh god I feel like a whore, but honestly i'm a proud hoe rn! 

Abs crouched down between my legs, Baby standing behind him as he preferred to just watch, knowing he would get his turn soon. “I think this suit needs to come off, right boys?” Abs smirked, his hands caressing my inner thighs. “You’re right, I can’t wait to see what you’re hiding under here…” Romance sighed happily, Mystery just nodding along, not really a man of words I see. Their hands turned into a soft purple hue, their nails growing in size as they made quick work of ripping my suit into shreds. I tried to cover myself up but Jinu was quick to grasp both my arms and lock them behind my back. “Don’t cover yourself darling… You wanted this right? To be taken and used by all of us.. you truly have no shame, do you?” He talked softly while Mystery and Romance both leaned down to take one of my tits into their mouths. All i could do was moan through his little speech, my core was on fire, growing wetter by the second. I don’t know if the heat made everything feel 10x better but I was enjoying this. I enjoyed the feeling of being exposed to their hungry eyes, I loved the way their mouths sucked on my tits, the way their tongues swirled around my nipples. My body arched into Juni’s body, my thighs trying to squeeze together to create some sort of friction. Abs was quick to separate my legs to get full access to my core. I did feel slightly embarrassed with his staring but that quickly dissolved as he just dove in like a starved man. His tongue swirling around my clit, making my hips buckle. His movements were precise, taking slow licks up my slit, before sucking on my clit against, his right hand closing in. Fingers painfully close to my opening. I moaned out loudly, begging for him to touch me, to feel his fingers inside. I guess he felt merciful because that’s exactly what he did. I was wet enough to fit 2 of his fingers with no problem, his long slender fingers curling up inside me. It didn’t take long for abs to find that special spot inside me that made my whole body seize. I could barely let out any noise, so over-stimulated, with Juni’s mouth on my neck, Mystery’s and Romance’s mouths on my buds, their hands cressing my stomach and sides. My eyes opened just slightly, the first thing I saw was Baby standing behind Abs, his hand slightly rubbing over his jeans, his eyes seductive as he stared down at me. I felt even more hot knowing the fact he was still enjoying himself, just staring. But I couldn’t think about him for long with the way Abs fingers thrusted deep into me and his tongue on my clit, it was enough to bring me dangerously close to climax. I yelped loudly, hips shaking. “I-Im so close- Please- Let me-” I gasped out, pushing my hips towards his mouth, needing him as close as I could have. “Greedy this one isn’t she?” Baby spoke up for the first time, enjoying watching how his bandmates brought (Name) to the edge of pleasure. “She is so intoxicating… Her scent… I wonder if she tastes just as good.” Jinu said, eyeing down at Abs, slightly jealous of how he was the first one to taste her. With the last curl of his tongue she came undone, her head thrown back in pleasure. Romance and Mystery separated from her breasts, looking down at the mess Abs created. All of them felt their senses heightened up, pupils dilating after smelling her. Their bodies fight against turning into their demon forms. Juni stood up with (name) still in his arms, turning around and setting her against the seat. She was still struggling with getting air into her lungs, slowly coming around from that intense climax. “I think we are all a bit too clothed for this next part.” Romance said smugly, his clawed hands already working on removing his shirt. “She might pass out after seeing what’s coming for her.” Mystery said quietly, following Romance’s lead. “She’s gonna pass out no matter what after we’re done with her.” Jinu grinned. 

(Name) slowly shook her head, coming back to reality, her eyes opening. In Front of her was the shock of her life, she yelled out. All five of them, completely bare, the marks on their bodies glowing ever so often, and oh my god even their dicks had the same marks. Also talking about dicks they were all so different.. Some of them had more girth, others length, already dripping with pre-cum. She felt like she was under some sort of spell as she slowly moved off the seat onto the heated up floor, sitting on her knees, hands traveling up Jinu’s legs and thighs. She looked up at him through her lashes, she looked absolutely ravishing, hair messy, some of it sticking to her forehead, her expression flushed, so full of need. Jinu’s breath hitched as his clawed hand took hold of her hair, bringing her face closer to his cock. “Open wide baby.” He instructed. And she did, her tongue rolled out as the tip landed on it. She could already taste the saltiness of his precum, so delicious. Her mouth closed in on it as her tongue rolled around the sensitive tip. He groaned out while thrusting deeper into her mouth. “Fuck.. Her mouth feels so good- I could get addicted to this.” He moaned out, fangs growing out. “Oh you’re making it sound a little too good. I want some.” Baby chuckled, pushing Jinu out of the way. Taking his place. “Hey! Wait for your turn you fucking moron-” Jinu cussed but decided to let him have his moment, instead just jerking himself off at the sight of her being used by them. (Name) whined at the loss of Jinu’s cock but was soon satisfied again after Baby pushed himself into her warm mouth. His dick was a bit shorter than Jinu’s but the girth was amazing, and like he wasn’t SMALL in any way. Actually none of them were. “Oh shit- You’re right- h-hell.” He whimpered. (Name) looked at the other men who were touching themselves, she didn’t want them feeling left out. She took hold of Abs and Mystery’s dicks, moving her hands up and down. Both of them instinctively reacted and thrusted into her hold. Mystery’s cock was long.. And Abs was just… oh yeah he was the big boy of the group definitely. 

“What a good girl…” Romance smiled, looking down at her. “S-shit.. I-I’m close-” Baby gasped out, his thrusts becoming faster, abusing the back of her throat. She was loving the treatment, even if it was harder to breathe. Her cheeks hollowed out completely, feeling every curve of his veins. “Fuck!” He yelled out as his hips stilled, spilling his load down her throat and she drank up every drop. “Look at that! Drank up everything, what a good slut.” Jinu smirked. Abs and Mystery both were moaning messes as their muscles tensed, her hands working magic on them. She didn’t take long to recover as her mouth went closer to Romance’s cock, taking the tip into her mouth, swirling her tongue just like she did with Jinu. This made the poor guy let out broken whimpers, his legs almost giving out from the sudden sensitivity. Jinu had walked behind her, crouching down, his hand traveling down her stomach towards her cunt. Fingers slowly circling her clit, making her eyes roll back into her head. She separated from Mystery’s cock and turned her head towards Abs’s dick, giving him the same treatment with slight difficulty due to the size difference. It didn’t take long for Mystery to cum onto her hand and arm, and the other to separate from her mouth, spilling his cum all over her chest. “You enjoy being marked by all of us huh?” Romance asked, tilting her head up towards him. “Y-yeah… I-I love it, I want more, please.” She begged, out of breath, whimpering due to Jinu still touching her. “Hah.. I wonder what your huntrix friends would say if they saw you like this.” Abs smiled, his finger stroking her chin. “I-I don’t care… I just want you all.. please. Help me.” She moaned out, getting on all fours. “Well look at that- So submissive.. so perfect.” Jinu said, eyes slightly wide not expecting that. But who was he to complain or deny her. His hands landed on her waist, the tip of his cock just against her slit. Moving his hips up and down just teasing her opening. Though even if she wanted to tease her more, his own self control was slowly withering away. So with the help of his hand he finally sank into her pussy. The feeling was euphoric, both of them immediately letting out strained moans. Her walls gripped him like no tomorrow, so wet, so tight. “Oh.. oh my god- S-Shit- I-I can’t-” He choked on his words, losing himself to his desires. While she was getting absolutely fucked from behind Romance took his spot in front of her mouth, getting on his knees, taking hold of her chin. With a quick ‘open up’ His cock was deep in her throat. She had never felt such pleasure before, seeing the men who just came on her already hardened up and ready to each get a turn with her, it was so sexy. Her body was being rocked back and forth, Jinu’s thrusts growing faster, the sounds of skin clapping together loud. His dick kept hitting that sweet spot in her, she had never felt this full before. All of her whimpers and moans just turned into vibrations against Romance’s cock who could feel himself very close to cumming. Both men reached their climaxes at the same time, spilling deep inside her, not caring about pulling out. The feeling of Jinu’s hot cum inside her was enough to push her over the age as well. Their juices mixed together. As he pulled out her hole leaked, making her thighs sticky and warm. “Help her up guys.” Abs smirked, him and Baby lifting her up from the ground. Her legs could not hold her weight, she was completely at their mercy. She was still so high from her recent orgasm she couldn’t form any words. Though she could feel her right leg being lifted over someone's shoulder. Thankfully she was very flexible. She could feel someone's hands squeezing her breasts, pinching her nipples, making her suck in air. 

She then felt someone's cock lined up with her entrance again, it felt huge… She could almost guess that- Before her thoughts could finish she saw pure white. Abs slammed himself in her, her pussy clenching around him like no tomorrow. He grunted loudly, his other hand holding the leg on his shoulder and the other on her waist. She whimpered and moaned with every thrust, his dick easily smacked against her cervix, his pelvis hitting her clit with every thrust. “O-oh- Oh my- Shiiiit-” She shook her head, trying to get away from his harsh treatment, it felt too good. She was too sensitive. “P-Please- Ah- Slower- No-” Her hands were pulled behind her, making her body arch in an awkward angle. His mouth quickly over hers, shutting her up. “Shit man- This pussy is amazing! Ah- I don’t know how long I can hold my form back-” Abs grunted, his marks glowing brighter, same with the others. “Right?! She is so intoxicating, I want to taste her soul… Ahg-” Romance inhaled her scent, his tongue licking her neck. “Do you think she could take two at the same time?” Mystery asked with an evil smile. “She definitely could… go for it… break her for good, that’s what she wants anyway.” Jinu laughed. Mystery went behind her, as the others gave him space. Abs slowed down for just a moment, both of the men looking at each other with a sly smile. Mystery lined up his dick right next to Abs and sunk in. She let out a loud yell, the pain… It was delicious. It was good, she had never been this full, never this turned on. “Oh my god look at that! She took it with no problem!” Baby and Jinu both laughed out loud. Both Abs and Mystery now worked together, creating an odd rhythm but it worked. When one went in the other went out. All of her spots being hit continuously was too much, she felt weird, something she had never felt before. “A- Im cuming- Im cuming-” She repeated before her cunt clenched hard around the two men who also just about got pushed over the edge, painting her walls white. The pressure was too much as she squirted out right onto Abs’s abdomen. Both of them retreated from her warmth, leaving her disappointed, she was obsessed, she needed more.

“You still want more? What a slut you are… oh god-” Jinu said, sweating from holding himself back. “I want more of her.. I need more of her.” Romance said. He was the first one whose self control cracked as his body turned purple, his demon side in full show. He basically snatched her out of Abs and Mystery’s hold, bending her over one of the seats, slamming himself right on into her. She yelled out, legs shaking her body rocking back and forth against the wooden surface. His thrusts didn’t falter, hand pushing down her back, keeping her down. It was inhuman how fast he could move against her, making her unable to understand shit. She was completely fucked out. The other guys were staring at their bandmate losing himself, and the way she was completely bare, completely at their mercy for them to destroy finally seemed to snap any of their self restraint. Baby was the second one who snapped, he jumped towards Romance pulling him out before he could finish his peak, pulling (Name) from the seat, placing her on her back, inserting himself into her. Immediately hitting her sweet spot causing her to cum right then and there. Poor Baby had been edged for so long that when her pussy clenched around him deliciously he just came deep into her, but that didn’t mean his cock didn’t get hard again immediately. “Out of the way, I want this pussy again.” Jinu pulled him off, his form also now changed. “Ah- J-Jinu- SO sensitive- Wait-” Though her pleas fell into deaf ears as some sat in front of her pressing her face into their dick. It was Mystery. She didn’t waste time giving him access, still tasting all of their cum on his cock, tongue swirling around him, savoring the taste. Abs and Romance kissed along her body, occasionally sucking and biting, leaving very visible marks on her. Jinus dick was smacking into her hard and rough, chasing only his own pleasure, he was indeed a selfish man. But even if he wasn’t looking out for her that doesn’t mean his thrusts weren’t painfully pleasurable. Every thrust felt like pure torture, her clit was so sensitive even the slightest touch had her body seizing up. Her eyes watering up from everything happening, make up becoming ruined. Jinu’s clawed hands sank into her waist, drawing the smallest amounts of blood. His grunts loud as he came into her for the second time. Mystery separated from her mouth after feeling himself cumming, ropes of his cum going onto her face, messing up her make up even more. All of them looked down at her on the floor, her poor pussy completely messed up and leaking, her face ruined, hair messy, body full of marks. All of their dicks got even harder, it's like she was their own aphrodisiac. 

“How do you feel?” Jinu sighed, his eyes dark with lust. “Mmmh-” She couldn’t say anything else, her legs twitching. “Fuck she looks so delicious like this…” Baby groaned, itching to sink deep into her again. “Can’t we just bring her with us? Our own personal cock sleeve.” Romance sighed dreamingly. She opened her eyes slightly, slowly coming to her senses, everything hurt, but it was so worth it. Her hands roaming through her body feeling the sticky cum and the marks they had given her just a moment ago. “Please…” She whimpered. “Aw you poor thing… We fucked you so good you can’t think about anything else now can you?” Abs smirked next to Jinu. Just as Jinu was about to go in for a kiss he heard distant yells, it sounded like her voice was being yelled out. He stood up looking at his bandmates and nodding at them, they all turned into pink smoke, disappearing from sight. “Sorry to cut this short… and not being able to take care of you more… But your friends are coming, and I don't think you wanna be seen like this…” He chuckled, snapping his fingers as the pink smoke surrounded them both, suddenly her clothes were back in one piece and he was completely dressed up. “I recommend you just tell them you got beat and somehow left alive… you figure it out… But don’t worry, we’ll see you real soon…” He gave her a kiss before disappearing. And right on time too. “Oh my god there you are!! Are you okay? Are you hurt?!” The girls bursted into the room, looking at all the messed up seats that just looked broken and then staring at her messed up hair.

“I-Im fine… Really- Ahg-” She groaned still not being able to stand properly or even realise what the fuck just happened. “We need to get you home!” “Don’t ever run off like that!!” The entire journey home she was scolded but all she could think about was Jinu and his final words. And overall the fucking gangbang she just went through… THE BEST sex she had ever had, honestly. She looked out of her window after finally being left alone by the girls and could feel herself growing wet again, not being able to forget how their touch felt and how their cocks felt inside her. Oh yeah she was definitely waiting for the next time. - thanks guys i did my duty

[dakusan]

W h e r e V a m p i r e ! S K Z L i k e s t o B i t e Y o u

Vampire!SKZ OT8 x Reader | eight fangs. eight fixations. and every filthy way they ruin you where it hurts the most

🔞synopsis: You thought you knew desire. You thought you understood sex. Then they bit you. This isn't love. This is hunger. Worship. Power. A kiss laced with venom. A cock buried in your cunt while your blood runs hot down their chin. Eight vampires. Eight bite locations. Eight ways to lose your mind and beg for more.

💌a/n: Welcome to fucking Wreck Me Wednesdays. This was supposed to be “mini.” Instead I wrote eight vampire sex case files with feeding traits, bite kinks, and full-blown NSFW lore. Somewhere between Chan’s heartbite and Han's “mine mine mine,” I lost the plot and my soul. Some are longer. Some are feral. Some are shorter. All of them ruined me and they shall ruin you too. Read responsibly. Stay hydrated. Stretch your legs. Cry in the bathtub. p.s. reblog = consent to be ruined by a vampire. p.p.s. Tell me who broke you. For science. p.p.p.s. pls enjoy the song :3. i will also get to the asks later today, haven't forgotten!

⚠️ warnings: NSFW / 18+ ONLY — minors will be fed to Minho. This series contains graphic vampire smut and feral content not suitable for the emotionally stable | Bloodplay + feeding during sex | Biting (everywhere) | Obsessive/possessive behavior | Power dynamics (soft dom to unhinged dom) | Crying, overstimulation, choking on moans | Praise kink, degradation kink, breeding kink | Fang kinks. Vein kinks. Chest kinks. Thigh kinks. | Oral (receiving + giving), rough sex, soft sex, bubble bath sex, rage sex

📍credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 𓆪 BANG CHAN // Abnormal Vampire Obsessed with control. Addicted to your pulse.

🩸PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Neck or heart — where the pulse is loudest. He wants to hear it skip.

💉FEEDING STYLE ‣ Controlled. Lethal. Intimate. ‣ Always timed with orgasm. May edge before bite. ‣ Often restraints you during feeding. Uses voice as a binding tool.

🫀EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Rapid heartbeat. ‣ Dissociation from overstimulation. ‣ Emotional dependency post-bite. ‣ High risk of imprinting.

⚠️PROGNOSIS ‣ Orgasmic blood-loss. ‣ Neck bites mid-thrust = blackout-level pleasure. ‣ Heart bites = ego death. Immediate sobbing. ‣ Lingering soreness + possession marks.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 001 𓆪

"Strip. Slowly."

You're standing in front of him—already trembling, already soaked. He hasn’t touched you. Not yet. Just sits back on the velvet chaise like he’s watching a performance he paid for in centuries. Legs spread. Shirt open. Mouth smiling, fangs peeking. Hands not on you.

Not yet.

You undress like you're unwrapping something forbidden. And his eyes don’t leave your chest. Not even once.

"There," he murmurs when your top hits the floor, voice like silk over blade. "It stutters when you know where I'm going to bite. Do you want it tonight?"

You nod, breathless.

"Words, darling."

"...yes. Please."

It doesn't take long, really it doesn't. Because one second you were putting on a show for him, stripping, peeling layer by later until you were naked and suddenly, you were now laid down on the bed with Chan knelt between your thighs, breathing against your cunt without touching.

With only one single kiss, not touching. Not yet.

"So warm here. You've been aching for me all night, haven't you? Dripping for me. Thinking about how it'll feel when I bite your chest and fuck you until your name melts off your tongue?"

You whimper, nod, hips twitching—but his hands grip your thighs down firm and leans forward, tongue finally moving—not inside you—no, he flicks along your folds. One stroke. One taste. Then stops.

"Mm. You're going to wait for me to bite. I'll have to make you cum with my mouth first."

He eats you out slowly. Sinfully. Like a king savouring dessert before the main course. Fingers spreading you, tongue teasing, lips sucking your clit just barely enough to make your stomach tense. Then he stops. Over and over. Until you're crying, hips grinding, begging.

"Please—Chan, please—fuck—just let me—"

"Let you what?" he says, smiling against your pussy. "Bleed? Break? Cum?"

"Yes—fuck, yes—all of it."

He hums against your cunt like you gave him a goddamn prayer.

"All of it, huh?" He drags his tongue up slowly, catching your clit just to hear the gasp he wrings from your throat. "Then keep those thighs open. Let me earn it."

And he does.

His mouth descends like a curse and a promise, this time not stopping. He licks like he’s reading scripture off your skin. Like he’s memorizing the shape of your moans. Two fingers press in, curling perfectly, while his tongue circles your clit with calculated cruelty. He’s not being sweet—he’s being precise. Every flick, every suck, every curl of his fingers is designed to make your legs tremble and your mind splinter.

“There it is,” he growls into you when your hips start bucking. “So fucking wet, baby. You gonna cum like this? Before I even bite?”

You try to answer. You really do. But it’s already happening. Your stomach tightens, thighs trembling, mouth open on a silent scream as your orgasm crashes down—hot, humiliating, perfect.

He doesn’t stop.

Licks through your orgasm, dragging it out. Groaning low, fingers still thrusting, until you’re gasping, writhing, overstimulated and dripping. Then—finally—he pulls back. Just enough to lift his head.

His mouth is wet. His chin shines with your slick. And his eyes—god, his eyes—are blown wide, black with hunger. “Now you’re ready,” he says, voice darker, lower. “Now you’ll taste right.”

He climbs up your body slowly, kneeing your thighs further apart as he goes. One hand cages your throat—not tight, just present—and the other cups your breast, thumb rubbing lazy circles around your nipple.

And then he leans in. Presses his lips right over your heart. The bite is sudden. Deep.

Your blood floods his mouth, and he moans—moans—like it’s better than sex, like it’s what he’s been starving for. His hips grind against yours as he drinks, hard cock pressing against your folds like a promise. You’re shaking beneath him—your orgasm still echoing, your body pulsing, blood pouring into his mouth like a gift only he deserves.

And then—just when you start to go dizzy—he pulls back. Fangs red. Lips stained. Chest heaving.

“Still with me?” His voice is rough, wrecked with restraint. “Because I’m not done.”

You nod—but barely. Your whole body is trembling, and your vision is hazy, floating from the orgasm and the blood loss and the fact that he bit your fucking heart like it was a fruit he’s waited centuries to taste.

And he’s still fully dressed. Shirt unbuttoned, dark slacks hugging his thighs, belt still on. You’re naked and wrecked and soaked, but he’s untouched. Pressed against you, blood-slick mouth and cock hard against your pussy—but untouched. “Look at me,” he whispers, dragging his fingers down your side, over the bite mark, over your trembling hips. “Look at me while I feed you something else.”

And then he leans back.

Slowly. Casually.

Undoing his belt with one hand, unzipping his pants like he's got all the time in the world. His eyes never leave yours as he slides them down just enough to free himself—his cock thick, flushed dark red, leaking at the tip, veins mapped like sin. You swear it twitches when he sees your thighs shake.

“So fucking pretty like this,” he murmurs, wrapping one hand around the base and giving himself a lazy pump. “Open. Dripping. Ruined. And all for me.”

He strokes himself slow, torturing, his fist sliding up over the head and back down, slicking it with precum while his other hand presses down on your lower belly, keeping you there.

“You feel that?” he asks, dragging the head of his cock through your folds. “That’s mine now. This heat. This slick little cunt. Your blood’s still warm inside me and now I’m going to fuck it back into you.”

You sob. Actually sob. Because even just the way he slides against your folds—up and down, dragging over your clit, teasing your entrance—it’s too much.

“Please, Chan,” you whisper, voice hoarse, “I want you inside—I want to feel it—I can’t—”

“Yes, you can.” He lines himself up. Presses the head in just a little. Just enough to make you gasp. “You’ll take it. Every inch. Slow.”

And he means it.

He pushes in inch by devastating inch, watching your face the entire time—watching your mouth fall open, your eyes flutter, your back arch. You feel every ridge, every vein, the stretch of him parting you slowly like he’s carving space for himself where no one else belongs.

“That’s it,” he groans, voice breaking. “So fucking tight.” Another inch. Another. “God, you’re squeezing me like you missed me.”

You cry out. Not from pain. From pleasure. From the overwhelming fullness, from the feel of him dragging along your soaked, overstimulated walls.

He pauses halfway in. Just pauses—hips pressed flush, cock twitching inside you, breath hot against your cheek.

“You want more?” he asks, fangs still out. “Tell me. Tell me how bad you want me to fill you.”

“Please,” you gasp, tears spilling, voice trembling. “I need it—I need you inside—all of you—fuck, Chan, please.”

His hips snap forward. You scream. He bottoms out with one deep thrust, cock buried to the hilt, and the stretch burns so good.

“There,” he grits, grinding slow, deep, merciless. “That’s what I wanted. That fucking clench. That pretty little scream.” He stays buried in you for a moment—deep—just breathing, letting your walls flutter and your cunt adjust to the full stretch of him. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, trying to lock him in, but he just smirks.

And then he starts.

Slow. Precise. The first few thrusts feel like worship—or punishment—dragging out so achingly slow that your body clenches tighter, trying to chase what he won’t give you. His hips roll, grinding into you, the thick weight of him pressing against every oversensitive inch of your soaked, blood-drunk cunt.

“Fuck, you feel perfect,” he groans, head dropping to your throat as he sets a slow, grinding rhythm. “So fucking warm. So tight. You gonna cry for me again, sweetheart?”

You already are. You’re gasping, eyes glassy, body shaking as he rocks into you with that slow, devastating rhythm. One of his hands cradles your face, the other beside your head, keeping you exactly where he wants you.

And then—he leans in. Mouth dragging across your skin. Kissing your jaw, your cheek, your lips, your throat. Peppering kisses like you’re sacred. His fangs scrape lightly down your neck and you twitch underneath him.

“You like that?” he whispers, lips brushing your ear. “The fangs. The pressure. You want me to bite again, don’t you?”

Your breath stutters. He knows. Of course he knows.

“Not yet,” he murmurs, thrusting deeper. “Not until you cum on my cock. Not until I’m so deep you forget how to speak.”

He picks up the pace now—still controlled, but faster. Harder. The sound of skin slapping, of your soaked cunt swallowing him in, fills the room along with your moans. Your nails drag down his back. Your hips rise to meet his.

“That’s it. Take it, baby. Take all of me. That greedy little pussy was made for me, wasn’t it?”

You nod frantically. “Yes—fuck, yes—made for you, only you—”

He kisses you. Hard. Bruising. Tongue sliding past your lips like he owns your mouth too. And when he pulls back, his eyes are pitch black, fangs still bared, lips red from your blood.

“Say it again.”

“Made for you,” you cry. “Yours. Only yours.”

“Good fucking girl.”

His pace snaps harder now—deep, perfect strokes—one hand gripping your thigh, the other pressed firm against your throat. His body curves over yours, keeping you pinned while he fucks you like he’s staking a claim inside your cunt.

Your legs tighten around him. Your belly coils. You feel your orgasm building—hot and sharp and dizzying.

“You gonna cum again?” he pants, rutting harder now. “Gonna let me feel it? Let me feel that pretty little pussy milk me while I drink from your heart again?”

You sob. You nod. You beg.

“Please, please—bite me—fuck, Chan—please—”

And that’s all it takes. He thrusts deep, one last time, grinding hard against your cervix, and then bites—again—right over your heart.

You cum instantly. Your walls clench so hard around his cock it triggers his own orgasm—thick, hot, flooding you as he groans into your skin, drinking and thrusting and owning you. When he finally pulls back, he’s panting, licking the wound tenderly. Your body’s trembling—soaked, stuffed, claimed—and he just looks down at you like you’re a masterpiece.

Chan leans down, kissing your lips so softly now. "You're mine sweetheart. Bloody, body, soul."

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐄𝐄𝐓𝐇 𓆪 LEE KNOW // Abnormal Vampire Sadist in silk. Devours screams. Fuck-first, feed-later type.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Inner thigh — where you're softest, where you beg hardest.

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Slow. Pain-laced. Erotic. ‣ Often feeds while fucking from behind. ‣ Fingerplay first—he has to feel you fall apart before the bite.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Shaking legs. Sore hips. Oversensitive clit. ‣ Mind-fracture from orgasm + blood loss combination. ‣ Known to cause dehydration, bruising, and uncontrollable sobbing. ‣ Marked behavioral changes: submission, clinginess, obsession.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Orgasm coincides with bite. Scream = trigger. ‣ Thigh bites may cause blackout + limp for 2–3 days. ‣ Post-bite euphoria. Known to whisper “again” while you’re still twitching. ‣ Irreversible addiction risk. Do not engage without safe word.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 002 𓆪

“You’re not gonna cum until I tell you to. Understand?”

His voice is silk-coated steel—low and lethal. You’re on your back, naked, legs spread wide on the silk sheets, with Lee Know fully clothed beside you. Not even undressing. Just watching. Eyes dragging over your soaked cunt like it’s something he owns. Like it exists to be ruined.

You nod, desperate.

“Use your words.” His eyes narrow, lips curling with warning. “If you want my fingers inside you, you’d better earn them.”

“Yes. I understand,” you breathe. “Please—Minho, I need it—”

He hums, finally moving. One hand strokes up your thigh, so gentle it makes you shiver. “So polite,” he murmurs. “And already dripping. All this for me?”

Two fingers press between your folds, parting you slowly. You moan. He doesn’t move fast—he just teases. Up and down, collecting slick. Spreading it messily across your clit before tapping it, sharp and precise.

You jerk. He laughs softly.

“No cumming, sweetheart,” he reminds you, before pushing a finger in.

You moan, clenching instantly. He’s slow at first, curling upward to find that spot, rubbing it deliberately. Then a second finger. Scissoring, stretching. His thumb rubs lazy circles over your clit, but never enough. Never fast.

And when you start to tighten around him, about to tip over—he pulls out.

You scream. He smiles.

“Again,” he says, and starts over. Fingers, curl, rub, drag—stop. Over. And over. By the fourth time, your body’s twitching. Your thighs shake. Your hands are fisting the sheets. “Minho—fuck, please—I’m going to lose it—”

“Good.” He leans over, mouth brushing your ear. “Then maybe you’ll behave.”

He grabs your hips, flips you over in one smooth motion—onto your knees, chest to the sheets. One hand presses between your shoulder blades, forcing your spine into a perfect arch. The other? Slipping down to play with your pussy again.

“You’re so wet baby,” he murmurs, dragging his fingers back through your folds. “I’ve barely done anything.”

You sob into the sheets. Then you feel it—his tongue. On your inner thigh. Not your pussy. Not yet. Just slow, deliberate licks on the sensitive skin right near your pulse point.

You freeze.

“Oh, did you think I’d forgotten about the bite?” he purrs.

He kisses the skin first. Then bites. His fangs sink in with a sharp, hot pain that melts instantly into pure fucking ecstasy. Your vision goes white. Your arms give out. You cry out, body trembling as blood leaves you in slow, sensual pulses.

And the second his mouth pulls back—

He’s undoing his pants.

You hear the belt unbuckle. The zipper lower. Then feel it—his cock, thick and flushed, dragging through your soaked folds. “You want this?” he asks, voice darker now. “Want to be fucked while your thighs are still bleeding?”

“Yes—fuck, yes—please—”

He slides in.

No warning. No mercy. One smooth, brutal thrust that knocks the air out of you. His hips slam into your ass, cock buried to the hilt, and he groans—deep and guttural—like he just found heaven inside your cunt. “Fuck,” he pants, grabbing your hips with bruising force. “So tight. Still twitching from that bite?”

He doesn’t wait.

He starts moving. Deep, hard thrusts that punch cries from your throat. Your back arches, cheek pressed to the sheets as he fucks you in a perfect rhythm—every stroke hitting exactly where you need him.

And he does not stop.

“Cry for me,” he growls, slapping your ass. “Scream. Let them hear how good I fuck what’s mine.”

You scream. You cry. You babble his name like a prayer.

“That’s right,” he hisses, hips snapping faster. “Fucking perfect.”

You’re gone. Broken. Bleeding. Full. And when your orgasm is close, when you're just about to cum—he doesn’t stop you. “Let go,” he pants. “Give it to me. I want to feel this cunt strangle my cock.”

You do. You collapse, sobbing, shaking, cumming so hard your thighs go limp. But he doesn’t stop.

Minho groans through his teeth and keeps thrusting—fucking you through your orgasm like he’s chasing something deeper. His grip bruises your hips, cock dragging through your soaked, fluttering walls, harder now, rougher.

“You sound so pretty when you break,” he mutters, voice wrecked. “I can feel it. Every pulse. Every squeeze. You're milking my cock like you want me to stay inside forever.”

You whimper, twitching under him, nerves fried, cunt still clenching in aftershocks. Your body is shaking—numb, overstimulated—but he fucks you through it, like you owe him every second.

“I’m close,” he growls, burying himself deep. “Gonna fill you up—fuck, just like this—”

A sharp snap of his hips, one final grind—and then he spills into you with a broken sound, teeth bared, fangs glinting. His cum is hot, thick, flooding your sore cunt as he presses as deep as he can, breathing hard against your spine.

But he’s not done. Not even close.

The second his cock slips free—wet and dripping with both of you—he’s flipping you over again. Your body’s limp, arms trembling, blood drying sticky on your thigh. You can barely focus. Barely breathe.

But you feel him. The press of his mouth. The heat of his breath.

“Still bleeding here,” he murmurs, fingers parting your thigh. “And you’re still so warm.”

He doesn’t give you time to answer before he bites again.

Same thigh. New wound.

You scream—not from pain, but from the crash of sensation. The moment his fangs sink in, your body floods with another unbearable wave. You’re twitching, crying, clenching around nothing—your cunt soaked, still dripping his cum—while he drinks, slow and deep.

Every pull of his mouth makes your stomach tighten. Your hands claw at the sheets. You’re delirious—gone—his mouth on your thigh, blood leaving in perfect rhythm with the mess between your legs.

He moans softly against your skin. Then he pulls back. Lips stained. Fangs gleaming. Blood running down your thigh like a love letter written in ruin.

He crawls over your body, eyes dark and hungry still. “I’m not done with you yet,” he murmurs, licking the blood from his lips. “But I’ll let you rest…”

One hand strokes your cheek, surprisingly soft.

“For now.”

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐍𝐅𝐎𝐑𝐂𝐄𝐑 𓆪 SEO CHANGBIN // Normal Vampire Made of muscle, menace, and moans..

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Below the ribs or just above the hipbone

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Possessive. Worshipful. ‣ He growls when he drinks, like it's carnal. ‣ Usually feeds during sex. Leaves deep bruises around the wound from how hard he grips.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Breathless moaning. ‣ Clawing, overstimulated orgasms. ‣ Emotional grounding. Heightened intimacy. ‣ High likelihood of imprinting if bitten more than once.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Feral rut-level fucking. ‣ Bruised hips, shaky legs, blood-drunk sobs. ‣ Bite leaves a phantom heat that spreads like wildfire. ‣ Will absolutely carry you to a bath after and tell you you did so well.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 003 𓆪

You were teasing him. You didn’t mean to—but you were.

The corset was tight. The skirt was short. Your lipstick matched the red of your bite mark from two nights ago. You were only supposed to drop off the file he needed but you knew what the outfit would do to him. What it always did.

And the moment he looked up from his desk and saw you?

All bets were off.

He’s already panting when he slams the door shut behind you. One heartbeat later, you're pinned to the wall—hard. His broad chest flush against your back, his breath already ragged and hot against your ear.

You hear the low, animalistic growl deep in his chest before you feel it—rumbling through you like a warning.

Or a promise.

Because you’re standing there in his office after midnight, wearing nothing but a black lace corset that cups your breasts high, a tiny pleated skirt that barely covers your ass, and delicate panties—thin, sheer, soaked. Stockings, too. Garter belt. Lip gloss still shimmering.

You knew what you were doing.

And so does he.

“Take that shit off,” he growls, voice already thick with bloodlust and need.

You turn—barely—and meet his eyes. They’re black. Fully fucking black.

And you’re soaked.

“Changbin—” you whisper, breath hitching, thighs pressing together. It’s not a protest. It’s a plea.

He doesn’t wait. Doesn’t ask. One sharp tug and your corset jerks loose at the back—ripped. Another growl, and your panties are shredded in his hands, lace in tatters. The air hits your bare skin and you whimper.

“You fucking tease,” he snarls, grabbing a handful of your ass. “Walking in here dressed like this? Like a fucking offering?”

You squeak as he grabs you under the thighs and lifts—one arm. Just one arm and you're airborne, slammed back against the wall like you weigh nothing to him.

Because to him? You’re not fragile. You’re his.

His mouth crashes into yours—hot, brutal, claiming. His tongue is deep before you can breathe. Fangs brush your lower lip and nick the skin just enough for blood to bloom, sweet and fresh, and he moans against your mouth.

“You wore this for me?” he growls between kisses. “Fucking knew it. Knew you were trying to get ruined.”

You nod frantically, breathless. “Please—need it—need you—”

Then he drops. To his knees. Fast. Like gravity yanked him straight down. He’s still fully dressed in black slacks, fitted shirt, sleeves rolled up. Muscles bulging, chest heaving, mouth already parted. And you? You’re bare now—corset loosened, panties gone, skirt hiked up around your waist, legs trembling over his shoulders.

Your back hits the cold wall. Your pussy is right at his eye level. And he looks up at you like he’s about to worship you.

Or destroy you.

“Fucking look at you,” he growls, dragging his thumbs up your inner thighs to spread you wider. “You're soaked. All this for me?”

You can’t speak. You nod. His smirk turns feral. “Good.”

He doesn't waist a second, Changbin devours you.

No teasing. No buildup. His tongue dives in like he’s starving—wide and wet, licking through your folds with a brutal, messy hunger that makes you cry out on impact.

“F-fuck—Changbin—”

He groans. Moans into your pussy like it’s his favorite meal, nose buried, chin soaked, lips dragging up your slit again and again until they’re flushed and swollen with your slick. His tongue curls up to your clit—flicks, circles, sucks. Sloppy and relentless.

Then?

He starts making out with it.

No joke. Full mouth. Open, hot, filthy kisses against your cunt—like he’s Frenching your pussy with every ounce of his desperate need. Tongue moving deep inside, then sliding up to wrap around your clit, sucking hard, then soft, then hard again. Over and over.

Your legs are shaking on his shoulders.

He drags one arm around your ass, pressing you closer to his mouth, while his free hand slides two thick fingers inside—curling, fucking, spreading your walls until you're gasping like you’re being split open.

He’s growling into your cunt, fingers pounding, tongue flicking your clit like he’s trying to drag the orgasm out of you with brute force.

“Come on,” he pants between slurps. “Give it to me. Cum on my tongue, baby—now—”

Your scream tears through the room. It breaks you. Your orgasm hits like a punch to the gut—raw, loud, endless. Your whole body locks. Your thighs clamp around his head. Your vision goes black for a second.

And he fucking loves it.

Keeps sucking through it. Fingers still thrusting. His mouth sealing over your clit again as if your climax is what he’s been waiting for all day.

Only when you’re gasping, limp, twitching—only then does he finally rise.

And fuck, he looks good.

Mouth soaked. Chin gleaming. Eyes still black. Fangs bared.

You barely have time to catch your breath before his hands are moving—fast. Belt undone with a sharp snap, pants shoved down, briefs yanked below his thighs. His cock springs free—thick, flushed, already leaking at the tip. Harder than sin.

You don’t even get a chance. Because suddenly—he lifts you. Again. Effortlessly. Strong arms under your thighs, back slammed against the wall. And this time, he doesn’t wait.

He slams into you.

One thrust—brutal, perfect—and he’s fully inside. Stretching you open. Your head rolls back, mouth open in a soundless scream as your cunt grips him like a vice.

“Fuck—yes,” he snarls against your throat. “That’s it—tight little pussy—knew you could take it.”

He doesn’t stop.

He fucks you into the wall. Rough. Desperate. Fast and deep and relentless. The slap of skin on skin echoes, your moans ricochet off the walls, and his name is the only thing you remember how to say.

“Changbin—Changbin—oh fuck—”

He groans against your skin. “You’re mine.”

And then?

He bites. Hard.

Right into your neck—fangs sinking deep, blood spilling into his mouth like wine from a sacred chalice. You scream, thighs trembling, orgasm threatening again just from the pain, the pressure, the possessive violence of it.

But he’s not done.

He licks the bite. Bites again—your shoulder this time. Then your collarbone. Then your neck again.

Everywhere.

Like he needs you in his mouth, over and over, just to stay grounded. Like drinking you is the only thing keeping him sane. His cock is ruthless inside you—dragging through your soaked walls, pounding harder each time you clench around him.

Your head spins.

He’s drunk on you. Absolutely gone.

“Fucking addictive,” he snarls. “Gonna mark you everywhere. Fill you up. Drain you dry. Fuck—this pussy’s perfect—squeezing me like it wants to bleed.”

Your hands claw at his back. Your nails dig into his shoulders. He loves it. Groans from deep in his chest. Slams into you even harder.

“Take it,” he growls. “Fucking take it. All of it. Don’t you dare stop squeezing me—make me cum, baby.”

You do.

Your orgasm hits again, body seizing, cunt fluttering around his cock like it’s made to wring him dry—and he loses it.

With a guttural snarl, he slams in deep—hips grinding, cock twitching as he spills inside you in heavy, scorching pulses.

But he doesn’t pull out.

Doesn’t move.

Just stays there—cock buried, teeth still scraping your neck, hands fisting in your hair and thigh like you’re the only thing anchoring him to this plane.

He pants. Shudders. Then licks your wounds. Gently. Worshipfully.

“Mine,” he whispers, pressing kisses to every bite mark. “Fucking mine. And I’m never letting go.”

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐑𝐄𝐍 𓆪 HWANG HYUNJIN // Abnormal Vampire Beauty made ruin. Moans like a prayer. Kisses like a curse.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Pulse points — wrists, neck, inner thighs

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Hypnotic. Addictive. Laced in poetry and pain. ‣ Always bites during orgasm. Sometimes mid-cry. ‣ Tongue traces first. Fangs follow like a kiss you asked for in a dream.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Euphoria-induced sobbing. Clutching, clawing, surrendering. ‣ Heart palpitations, glossy eyes, speech loss ‣ Often left with multiple bite marks in one session—each placed like a secret

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Known to say “You’re mine” while you’re still moaning. ‣ Multiple orgasms expected. Blood + sex high overlap. ‣ Post-bite daze may last hours. Often found still shaking in his arms. ‣ Extreme bond-forming. Danger of becoming his favorite. And never leaving.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 004 𓆪

You feel him before you see him.

That overwhelming stillness, the kind that drowns out thought. Your breath catches—and then there he is, walking in like a vision, black silk shirt half-buttoned, pale chest glistening, golden hair slightly damp like he’s just stepped out of a dream.

Hyunjin doesn't speak at first. He just walks toward you. Barefoot. Soft steps. Eyes fixed on you like you’re the only thing in the world that exists.

And then?

“You wore my favorite,” he murmurs, fingertips brushing the strap of your lace slip. “Ivory. Like fresh canvas.”

His lips ghost over your collarbone. Not a kiss. Not yet.

“I’ve been thinking about this,” he whispers, “all night. What color you’ll bleed for me. What sound you’ll make when I make you fall apart.”

You tremble.

He lifts your chin gently, eyes gleaming obsidian. “Lie back, baby. Let me paint.”

You obey, shivering as you settle onto the bed—bare skin against cool silk, thighs pressed together from sheer need. He doesn’t make you wait long. Just climbs over you slowly, like you’re delicate, precious, sacred.

And then his mouth is on your wrist. Kissing. Worshipping.

“I’ll start here,” he breathes. “Where your pulse is softest.”

The bite is slow. Precise. A sharp flash of heat as his fangs pierce your skin, followed by dizzying pleasure—almost like he’s sipping your soul. He groans, low and ruined, as your blood coats his tongue.

“Mmm… divine,” he whispers against your wrist, pulling back only to let the droplets smear along his lips. “But I want more.”

His hands trail down. One over your breast, teasing your nipple, the other slipping between your thighs.

“You’re soaked,” he hums, licking the blood off his fingers. “Did you get this wet just from the bite?”

You nod. He smiles like it’s the best thing he’s ever seen.

Then—he spreads you.

Kisses down your body, trailing open-mouthed devotion from your chest to your stomach, thighs, then—

“Oh, fuck—Hyunjin—”

He groans as he reaches your cunt, breathing deep. “So pretty,” he murmurs, “and all mine.” Hyunjin leans in to press a kiss over your clit. Soft. Like the place between your legs is a cathedral and he's repenting with every breath.

His lips brush your folds. Once. Twice. Then his tongue flattens against your clit, slow and wide, dragging up until your hips twitch off the bed.

“Sweet,” he breathes, eyes fluttering closed. “So fucking sweet—like nectar, like stars, like sin.”

You moan.

He moans louder.

Because Hyunjin isn’t just eating you out. He’s savoring. Every lick is long and deliberate, every press of his tongue a whispered poem. He swirls around your clit—soft at first, then pointed—then sucks it into his mouth with such aching, focused gentleness you cry out without warning.

“Hyunjin—”

He groans at the sound of his name. The vibration floods through your cunt.

“Say it again,” he whispers against you, then kisses your clit again like it’s your mouth. “Please. Sing for me.”

“Hyunjin—fuck—please—”

You can’t help it. You’re squirming, writhing, lost beneath him. Your thighs tremble around his head but he doesn’t let go. One arm wraps behind your waist, anchoring you to his mouth like he can’t stand the idea of you pulling away.

His tongue starts to move faster—up, down, circle, suck—messy, wet, worshipful.

Slurping sounds fill the air. His own moans grow desperate. He drags you closer, face buried deep, nose pressed against your clit, tongue flicking mercilessly now. Like he’s not kissing anymore—he’s feasting.

You sob.

You’re panting his name like a spell now. Your back arches. Your thighs clamp.

His fingers dig into your skin. His tongue curls up and in. Every noise you make feeds him. Fuels him. Until he’s drunk on it. High on it.

High on you.

When you cum, it’s violent. Like drowning in silk. You clench around nothing, but feel everything. Your body locks. Your mind breaks. Your mouth opens—but nothing comes out.

And Hyunjin just groans. Like your orgasm was inevitable. A masterpiece finished.

He licks you through it. Sucks gently on your clit like he’s coaxing the last bits of your soul out through your cunt. Then another kiss. And another. Until he finally slows, breath ragged, mouth glossy with you.

His eyes rise to meet yours. Black. Dilated. Reverent.

Your breathing’s still erratic. Limbs heavy. The aftershocks of your orgasm ripple through you in soft, involuntary flinches. And Hyunjin just watches. Licks his lips, eyes locked on the trembling between your thighs like it’s the final frame of a painting he’s not done signing.

Then? He shifts.

You barely register it until his mouth is on your inner thigh.

Not rushed. Not greedy. Just—gentle. Open-mouthed kisses along the softest part of you. His fangs slide out.

You feel the sharp brush of them ghost over your skin. He drags them softly, so softly, up the inside of your thigh, until your hips twitch from the sheer anticipation.

Then—

The bite.

It’s deep. Precise. His fangs sink into the flesh of your inner thigh like they were made for this—like your body was crafted just for his teeth. The sting is immediate, yes, but it blooms so quickly into pleasure that your head falls back, lips parted in a choked gasp.

Hyunjin groans the moment your blood hits his tongue.

His hands grip your thighs tighter, anchoring you as he drinks. Slow at first. Then deeper. His throat works in soft, rhythmic swallows. You can hear it. The slick sound of him feeding.

And all the while—he moans.

Like he’s tasting divinity. You try to move. He growls. “Stay still.” he breathes against your wound.

He licks the blood as it trails, mouth sticky and stained. Then another kiss. Another bite. This time, just a little higher—closer to where he just worshipped you with his tongue.

You gasp. The pleasure-pain bursts behind your eyes.

“Hyunjin—please—”

He hums your name into your skin. Wipes his mouth on your thigh like a signature. Then finally climbs up your body, hovering above your face. Eyes on your perfect pillowy lips, but he doesn't kiss immediately. He just hovers. Lets you see the blood on his lips—your blood—before whispering: “You’re mine, now. I’ll paint you in bruises and bites."

Then he kisses you.

Tongue deep. Copper-sweet. Blood-warm and you melt. Melt like puddle in his arms. His arms, exactly where you belong.

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐊𝐄𝐑 𓆪 HAN JISUNG // Normal Vampire Chaos incarnate. Bites first, thinks later. Addicted to your blood and your moans—equally.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Side of the neck ‣ Also: your chest, your fingers, your thighs—he’s not picky. Just rabid.

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Chaotic, breathless, unrestrained. ‣ Often bites mid-fuck or right after you cum. ‣ Will feed and finger you at the same time, panting into your blood. ‣ Tastes you like he’s making out with your pulse.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Overstimulation. Dizziness. Bite-high. ‣ Orgasms feel drugged—like you're floating underwater. ‣ Can trigger full-body shivers, sobbing, giggles, and collapsing. ‣ Irregular heartbeat post-bite. Known to laugh while you cry.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Bite syncs with his orgasm. ‣ Feeds multiple times in one session—don’t expect to walk. ‣ Cums from your taste. Known to say “I need you again” before he’s even pulled out. ‣ Proceed with caution: addiction is mutual.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 005 𓆪

Han Jisung is already naked.

He wasn’t supposed to be. He was supposed to wait. But the second you walked into his apartment—short skirt, bare thighs, lipgloss still wet—he lost his fucking mind. Clothes gone. Fangs out. The kind of wide, dangerous grin that promised disaster and begged for it, too.

“You’re gonna ride me, yeah?” he pants, back hitting the bed with a thud. “Wanna see your tits bounce while I bite you.”

You swallow. Nod.

“No, no—c’mon,” he grins, already breathless. “Say it. Say you’re gonna ride me like you mean it.”

“I’m gonna ride you, Ji,” you whisper, crawling over him. “So fucking hard.”

“Fuck yes—” His head drops back, eyes fluttering. “My girl.”

You straddle him, feeling his cock hot and thick between your folds. He’s already leaking, already twitching beneath you. Your slick coats him in seconds. But he doesn’t thrust—no, he waits. Lets you drag your hips up and down until you’re both dizzy with it.

And then—you sink down.

“FUCK—” he cries, hands flying to your hips, gripping so tight you’ll bruise. “Shit—so warm—so tight—don’t move—fuck, baby, let me feel you like this—”

But you move anyway.

Start slow. Grinding your hips in circles, milking moans from his throat. He looks wrecked—sweaty, flushed, eyes half-lidded and glowing red. One hand sneaks up to grope your tits. The other stays on your hip, flexing with every grind.

When you start bouncing? He chokes.

“God—fuck—ride me—ride me, baby, please—”

You do.

Faster. Harder. Until your thighs burn and your pussy tightens with each drop. His mouth is everywhere—licking your collarbone, mouthing at your nipples, biting into your neck without warning.

He drinks. Moans into the wound. Licks the blood like it’s the only thing tethering him to earth.

You scream.

Not from pain—from pleasure so sharp it cuts. He pulls back, blood smeared on his lips, gasping like you just fucked the soul out of him. “You taste like heaven,” he whispers. “Fuck—I’m gonna cum—baby, cum with me, ride me until we break—”

You do. Together.

A shared orgasm that hits like a freight train. Your cunt tightens around him in rhythmic spasms, and he holds you through it—groaning, babbling praise, licking blood from your skin while he cums so hard his whole body shudders beneath you.

But he’s not done.

Because your chest is rising and falling—vulnerable, flushed—and he leans up, presses one last kiss between your tits.

Then bites again.

And again.

And again.

Your body’s still trembling. Muscles twitching. Slick and cum sliding down your thighs where he’s still buried deep inside you, twitching with aftershocks.

But Jisung?

He’s laughing.

Low. Breathless. A little too unhinged to be safe.

“You’re still warm,” he pants, lapping at your collarbone like it’s glazed in sugar. “Still fucking clenching around me. You’re gonna kill me, baby.”

You try to answer. You really do. But your brain has melted. Your mouth just opens—gasping—and that’s when he bites again.

Right above your heart.

You scream. Loud and broken. His fangs sink into skin like it’s the only place he belongs—like he can claim you from the inside out. He drinks like you’re water and he’s been parched for centuries. Moans like your blood makes him high. His cock twitches inside you, still half-hard and swelling again.

“Fuck—” he breathes, pulling back, his lips coated crimson. “You’re sweeter here. I knew you would be.”

Then he tilts his head. Looks down.

Sees it.

His cum.

Dripping out of your pussy like melted candlewax. A creamy mess of lust and love and loss of control. “Oh my fucking god,” he groans, manic. “I made you drip like this?”

A pause, a sharp inhale.

“Addicted,” he whispers. “Completely fucking addicted. You don’t even know—baby, I need—”

He bites again. Your shoulder this time. Then the other side of your neck. Then the curve of your breast.

He kisses each one after, messy and frantic, tongue smearing blood and spit across your skin like a mad artist painting his masterpiece.

And then?

He flips you. Again.

Pins you down now, hands on either side of your head, his mouth dragging over your body like he can’t choose where to ruin you next. I want to fuck you again,” he confesses, breath shaking. “Want to stay inside forever. Want to drink until I forget my name.”

“You already did,” you whisper, hoarse.

He grins. Wide. Bloody.

“Good.”

And then he bites again. This time? Your mouth.

Kisses you so hard his fangs nick your lip. Blood trickles in. He licks it up like a shot of liquor, hands gripping your thighs, your ass, your tits—anywhere he can touch.

"I love you. Mine, mine, mine forever."

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐄𝐑 𓆪 LEE FELIX // Abnormal Vampire Soft on the surface, deadly underneath. Sleeps in silk, fucks like a fever dream.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Over the heart or the curve of your breast

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Gentle at first. Almost shy. Kisses before teeth. ‣ Feeds while holding you close—rocking, murmuring sweet things into your skin. ‣ But when hunger takes over? He gets lost. Mouth drunk. Eyes glazed. Almost feral.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Full-body shivers. Skin hypersensitive. ‣ Overstimulation from prolonged oral + emotional collapse after the bite. ‣ Heightened affection post-bite—clinginess, sobbing, echo-pleasure. ‣ Bite mark often becomes an erogenous zone.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Dreamwalkers induce trance-like states in partners. Bite can cause mild hallucinations. ‣ Reader may experience floating sensation + blackout orgasms. ‣ Blood-sharing with Felix forms rapid bond. Extremely addictive. ‣ Warning: prolonged exposure may result in crying during aftercare. And begging for more.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 006 𓆪

The penthouse is quiet when you return.

Shoes off. Dress unzipped. Champagne still singing in your veins from the gala. Felix walks in behind you, shrugging off his velvet blazer, golden curls loose around his temples, skin glowing under soft amber lighting.

He looks too good—black silk shirt open at the chest, fangs glinting behind his smile, eyes already darker than they should be. Not hunger. Something else.

Devotion.

"You were perfect tonight," he murmurs, fingers ghosting your waist as he draws you toward the bathroom. “But I didn’t like sharing you.”

Your heartbeat stutters. “You weren’t exactly subtle either,” you whisper, recalling the way his hand had stayed glued to your lower back all evening, lips to your ear at every chance, voice dipped low with possessive undertones. Like you were his prize.

His worship.

His next meal.

Felix chuckles. “No. I wasn’t.”

The tub fills behind you—steaming, lavender-scented, full of white foam and rose petals. His idea, of course. He always did prefer indulgence after restraint.

He helps you in like you’re made of porcelain. Your skin sinks into the warmth with a sigh. Felix climbs in after, settling behind you, legs spread so you’re seated snugly between them. Your back hits his bare chest, and already, you can feel it.

The thrum beneath his skin. The restraint snapping thread by thread.

“You wore that dress to kill me,” he murmurs, mouth against your neck. “Slit up to your hip. No bra. Lace so sheer I could see the curve of your nipples under every chandelier.”

You smile. “And?”

“And now I’m going to take my time with you.”

His hands cup your breasts from behind. Thumbs flicking your nipples. Bubbles cling to his wrists, his forearms. His lips drag up your neck. Soft. Featherlight.

Then sharp.

A kiss first—then a bite.

Fangs sink in, clean and deep, right beneath your jaw. You gasp, head falling back against his shoulder as the pain melts into pleasure. He drinks slow—just a few sips, just enough to make you squirm—and licks the wound clean with a reverent groan.

“So sweet tonight,” he whispers. “You taste like champagne and sin.”

You whimper.

His hands trail lower. One slips down between your thighs, parting you under the water, fingers pressing into your cunt with aching care. The other? Gliding over your thigh, then gripping it, spreading you wider for him.

He doesn’t tease.

Two fingers sink in���slick, hot, stretching you open as the water laps around you. His thumb finds your clit, circles slow and steady. The angle is perfect. Deep. Focused.

"You always take me so well,” he breathes into your skin. “Even when you’re trembling.”

You are. Shaking, helpless, your body already wrung too tight. The bite. The warmth. The way he touches you like he’s composing a symphony.

And then—he pulls you closer.

“Ride me,” he whispers. “Like you did the last time I fed on your heart.”

You whimper. Turn in his arms, straddling him with the water sloshing over the edge. His cock is already hard, flushed, pressed against your stomach as you rise onto your knees.

He watches you. Eyes half-lidded. Blood-drunk.

When you sink down on him—slow, stretching around his thick length—you both moan. Your nails dig into his shoulders. His hands grip your waist like he’s anchoring himself to reality.

“Fuck—baby—you feel like velvet,” he chokes out. “So wet. So fucking warm—”

You start to move.

The rhythm is gentle at first. Slippery skin, heavy breaths, the sound of water shifting with every roll of your hips. Felix bites your shoulder. Then your collarbone. Then lower, tongue lapping blood before it cools, fangs sinking in again like he’s trying to mark every inch.

You're bleeding. You're riding. You're both coming undone.

“Look at you,” he groans. “Dripping for me. Bleeding for me. My perfect little canvas.”

Your orgasm builds like a tide—slow, inevitable. His cock hits all the right places, his hands guiding you faster, his mouth sealing over your throat for one final bite as he moans into your skin.

“Cum for me,” he pants. “Feed me while you fall apart.”

Your whole body tenses—like a wave crashing against fragile glass.

And then it shatters.

You break apart on him with a choked cry, thighs trembling, nails clawing down his back. Your orgasm ripples out in hot, helpless pulses, cunt fluttering around him, blood still seeping slowly from your bitten throat as you collapse forward into his arms.

Felix growls.

The sound vibrates through his chest, deep and guttural—feral with need. His mouth seals tighter around your neck, and he drinks as you shake through your climax. Every pull of his lips sends fresh aftershocks rolling through you. You're twitching, overstimulated, undone.

“That's it,” he whispers, lips stained, eyes fluttering shut in bliss. “That’s my angel. Give me everything.”

He swallows every drop like he needs it to survive. Like your pleasure is the only thing that can keep him sane.

When he finally releases your throat, his tongue traces the wound—gentle now, reverent, like he’s kissing the holiest part of you. Blood paints his chin. His cock still buried inside you, twitching, heavy, throbbing.

Then—he lifts his head.

You see it in his face. The complete loss of control. His pupils blown wide, lips red, hair clinging to his temples in damp, golden waves. His hands clutch your waist again—and he thrusts up once, hard, a broken moan escaping his throat.

“Oh—fuck—” he gasps. “I’m gonna—”

You’re still pulsing around him. Still warm, wet, perfect.

He buries himself deeper, spilling into you with a low, desperate groan. His mouth finds yours mid-release, kissing you like he’s tasting eternity. Tongue slick with blood and love. You’re breathless, trembling, still locked together in the cooling water—and only then does he speak again. Softly. Against your lips.

“You’re divine.”

You smile weakly, forehead to his. “So are you.”

Felix brushes a petal from your shoulder. One last kiss to your jaw. One last whispered truth, low and sacred:

“I’d bleed for you too.”

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐃 𓆪 KIM SEUNGMIN // Normal Vampire The gentleman with a scalpel smile. Clinical precision. Calculated hunger.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Inner arm — intimate, exposed, and close to your heart. ‣ Sometimes the chest or side of your ribs

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Calm. Measured. Strategic. ‣ He plans his bites—timed, placed, controlled. ‣ Often feeds during emotional peaks—after soft sobs, laughter, confessions, or sex. ‣ Gentle on the surface, but watch closely: there’s a dangerous edge underneath.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Heart rate spike followed by unusual stillness. ‣ Floating sensation. Hallucination-like euphoria. ‣ Skin hypersensitivity for hours after. ‣ Develops strong dependency on his praise and attention.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Low-risk externally—but internally, you’ll never forget the way he says your name. ‣ Prolonged feeding can induce dreamlike sedation or emotional bonding states. ‣ Known to leave almost invisible marks—but you feel them for days. ‣ Vulnerability spike: tendency to confess secrets or cry in his arms after.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 007 𓆪

You hadn’t spoken in over an hour.

Not since the fight.

Not since he said, “Maybe if you didn’t run every time we got too close, I wouldn’t have to wonder if you actually want this.”

You’d slammed the door to the bedroom. Now you’re sitting on the edge of the bed, wrapped in one of his shirts, staring at the wall like it’s going to offer answers. It doesn’t.

The air is tight. Tense. Like everything’s been coiled too long.

Then—you hear his footsteps.

And suddenly, he’s there.

Seungmin doesn’t speak. Doesn’t shout. He just walks over, grabs your jaw with cold fingers, and tilts your head up.

“You want to be left alone?” he asks quietly. “Or do you want me to make you feel something again?”

Your breath stutters. That look in his eyes—sharp, calculating, barely restrained—isn’t the usual teasing calm.

This is something else.

You whisper, “Make me.”

And just like that—he snaps.

You’re pushed back against the bed. His body cages yours, knees on either side of your hips, hands pinning your wrists above your head. You gasp, arching—but he doesn’t give you time to speak.

“I hate fighting with you,” he growls, voice low and lethal. “You know that?”

You nod, breathless.

“But you push me. You always push. And then you run, and I let you. But not tonight.”

His lips crash to yours—angry, desperate, hungry. You kiss back just as hard, teeth clashing, tongues twisting. Seungmin bites your lip—draws blood. Licks it up like you’re wine and he’s parched. “Take it off,” he demands, tugging at the shirt. You pull it over your head, baring yourself to him completely and his eyes darken.

His eyes scan your body like he owns it. Like he's earned it. Then—he lets go.

Just releases your wrists and leans back, chest heaving. You blink, confused, but he only settles onto the mattress, dark hair mussed. One arm folded behind his head. The other gestures lazily down his own body.

“Take your panties off.”

You hesitate.

He raises a brow. “Now.”

You obey.

Silently, you slide the soft lace down your thighs, aware of how his gaze never leaves your center. You think—maybe—he wants you to straddle his face. Let him taste the slick that’s already gathering between your legs.

But Seungmin has other plans.

“Turn around,” he murmurs. “Back to me.”

You do, breath catching.

“On your knees. Over my chest.”

And that’s when it hits you.

You’re not riding his mouth. He’s placing you above him, facing the length of his body, and when you obey—when your hands brace on the bed and your knees sink beside his ribs—he shifts both of you down.

So now he’s under you. And your soaked pussy is right above his mouth. But his cock? Hard. Heavy. Inches from your face.

“Open your mouth, baby,” he growls. “And keep it open while I ruin you.”

You barely have time to whimper before his hands are gripping your hips, dragging your pussy down to his mouth. His tongue licks one long stripe through your folds before his fangs sink into the plush of your thigh with no warning, no restraint.

You cry out.

But then—you moan.

Because his mouth is everywhere. Kissing. Biting. Tongue fucking you while blood still runs hot against his lips. He’s feeding and pleasuring, starving and devout all at once.

And you?

You finally do what he told you.

Shaky hands pulling down his grey sweatpants and his briefs, his cock springing out, hard, leaking, throbbing.

You lean forward. Wrap one hand around the base of his cock. The other balances on his thigh. And then—you sink your mouth over him, slow at first, tongue pressing to the underside of the thick, pulsing length that jerks the moment you moan around it.

He groans.

Deep in his throat. A growl of praise.

“Just like that,” he breathes against your cunt. “Take it all, baby. Feed me while I fuck your throat.”

You do.

Mouth stuffed full of his cock, your hips rocking over his face as he feasts between your thighs like you’re the cure to every craving. His tongue works in circles—then flicks. His fingers dig into your ass, spreading you wider, holding you still when your thighs start shaking.

You’re dripping. Gagging. Gasping for air.

And Seungmin? He never lets up. Every time your mouth slides down over his length, he rewards you with another harsh suck, another bite to your thigh, another moan against your clit that sends you reeling.

Until you’re both right there.

Teetering. Desperate. Drenched in sweat, saliva, and blood.

Then—his cock throbs. Your walls flutter. Your body clenches around nothing as the orgasm explodes from your spine, rolling over you like a wave of fire.

Your juices soak his mouth. He drinks. Groaning. Devouring. Never stopping.

Your body trembles through the high and just as you release his cock from your mouth, gasping, your hand wraps around his base again, stroking him once, twice before he finally cums. All over your chest. Your mouth which you made sure to keep open. Your tongue.

Seungmin is panting, eyes dark, lips red, blood dripping from his mouth like wine and he licks your inner thigh again. "Feel better now?" he asks hoarsely.

You collapse sideways onto the mattress, dizzy and dazed. "Fuck you," you whisper.

He smirks.

"You already did. But unless you want more, I'm happy to oblige~"

𓆩 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐈𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐅𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐒 𓆪 YANG JEONGIN // Normal (Evolving Abnormal) Vampire The sweet boy with the sharpest bite. Addicted to affection. Dangerous when starved.

🩸 PREFERRED BITE LOCATION ‣ Shoulder blade, inner thigh & lower back

💉 FEEDING STYLE ‣ Emotional. Impulsive. Clingy. ‣ Bites happen mid-kiss, mid-moan, mid-breakdown. ‣ Never feeds clean—always leaves marks. ‣ Mouthy. Sloppy. Overwhelmed. Often doesn’t stop until you pull him off.

🫀 EFFECT ON SUBJECT ‣ Heavy euphoria followed by crashing neediness. ‣ Breathing becomes erratic. Limbs tremble. ‣ Intense emotional projection—feels what you feel, tenfold. ‣ Causes your body to crave touch long after the bite ends.

⚠️ PROGNOSIS ‣ Unpredictable: safest when loved, most lethal when rejected. ‣ High risk for overfeeding during sex due to overstimulation. ‣ Known to whimper while drinking. ‣ Will worship you for hours afterward like he’s trying to say sorry with every kiss.

𓆩 CASE STUDY 008 𓆪

You’re still wearing it.

That lingerie set—the one in soft wine-red lace, delicate enough to tear, pretty enough to drive him feral. It’s sheer over your chest, satin at the waist, and trimmed in ribbon. You’d worn it as a surprise. You didn’t expect him to unravel like this.

Jeongin stares at you from the mattress, already shirtless, eyes darkened and jaw clenched. He looks dazed. Hungry. Like he’s been trying not to lose control all night and now he’s at his limit.

“I’m not taking it off,” he says hoarsely, reaching for you. “It’s too perfect. Too hot. Just—ride me like that.”

Your breath catches.

You crawl into his lap slowly, knees bracketing his hips, arms wrapping around his shoulders. His hands grip your thighs, sliding up the sheer lace with reverence and a tremble. Then his mouth is on you—kissing down your neck, biting gently at first, tongue soothing the sting. But that’s not what he really wants.

“I need it,” he whispers. “Please. Let me bite.”

You nod.

He doesn’t hesitate. Sinks his fangs into the swell of your breast just above the lace, groaning low as your blood hits his tongue. You moan at the feeling of the heat rush that floods your body. Your hips grind down on instinct. He grips you tighter, hips twitching beneath yours.

“Fuck,” he gasps, pulling back with blood smeared at the corner of his lips. “You taste so good.”

You rock against him again. He’s hard already, pressing against your center through thin layers. Your pace quickens as you straddle him, grinding down in search of friction, your moans growing louder with every pass.

And then—he thrusts up once, twice, desperately, through his boxers, trying to meet you. It’s messy. Uncontrolled.

“Take me out,” he pants. “I—I need—please—”

You reach between you, freeing him from his briefs. His cock is flushed, heavy, leaking against your hand. He bucks into your touch, then holds your hips steady while you pull your panties aside and lower yourself onto him—inch by inch, lace still clinging to your skin.

His head drops back against the pillow with a moan so wrecked it doesn’t sound human. “You feel… fuck… you feel unreal.”

You start to move.

Slow at first—steady rolls of your hips, his hands roaming every inch of you he can reach. His fangs flash again as he watches you bounce, lace framing your curves, blood still drying on your chest.

“I can’t—can’t hold back,” he grits out. “Need to bite again—need to feel you everywhere.”

You nod, too lost in pleasure to form words.

This time, he bites your shoulder. Then your neck. Then your breast again through the fabric, enough to tear the lace slightly. Each time, his tongue follows, soothing the sting with a worshipful lick before he moans against your skin.

You’re shaking. Close. So close.

“Jeongin—”

“I know, baby," he growls—but this time, there’s a rasp in his throat. A dark edge. A thirst not just for you—but for what’s inside you. What feeds him.

Then—he snaps.

Jeongin bucks up into you with renewed force, rough and desperate, the rhythm turning messy and fast. One hand clutches your hip, guiding your motion, the other lands sharp against your ass—slap.

“Fuck, that’s it,” he hisses through clenched teeth. “Take it. Ride it. Don’t you dare stop.”

You try to answer, but your voice breaks. He’s deep, hard, relentless. The blood loss, the overstimulation, the lace chafing just so—it’s too much, and still not enough.

Then he sinks his fangs into you again.

Lower this time—just above your heart. A claim. A feeding. His moan is filthy against your skin as he drinks, hips slamming up with each pull from your vein. His lips seal to the bite like it’s sacred, tongue swiping the spill before it stains.

You feel yourself tipping, unraveling—body jerking, walls fluttering around him. He groans, hands digging into your ass, holding you in place as his thrusts become erratic.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he pants, blood-slicked lips against your breast. “I could drink you dry. Fill you up. Fuck—don’t stop—don’t stop.”

You don’t. Your body moves on instinct—legs trembling, hands clutching at his chest, your moans dissolving into shattered gasps as you ride him harder, faster, deeper.

He fucks up into you like he’s chasing something primal—like he’s on the edge of breaking, of shifting into something unholy. His grip on your hips bruises. His jaw is clenched tight. He’s staring at you like you’re divinity draped in lingerie and blood.

“Fucking—cum,” he snaps, voice cracking. “Let me feel you.”

And then—you do.

It hits like a flood, your whole body locking around him, head thrown back as the orgasm rips through you. You cry out, shaking, grinding down on him as your walls clench and flutter and milk him mercilessly.

Jeongin loses it.

He growls—a sound feral, needy—and slaps your ass again, rougher this time, then grabs your waist and slams up into you with sharp, punishing thrusts. No rhythm now. Just desperation. His cock drags along every swollen, overstimulated nerve inside you as he chases his own climax, jaw clenched, breath ragged.

“Fucking—tight—fuck, I’m gonna—”

Another slap. Another thrust. His fangs flash again like he’s tempted to bite one last time, but instead he buries his face in your chest, breathing you in like you’re oxygen. His fingers sink into your thighs, holding you down as he spills into you with a deep, guttural groan.

His entire body jerks.

Once. Twice.

Then stillness.

His grip softens—only a little. His face stays pressed against your skin, your blood still drying against his lips. His cock twitches inside you, aftershocks making your thighs tremble from where you’re still seated on him.

He finally breathes. Hoarse. Like he’d forgotten how.

“…mine,” he whispers. Like a prayer. Like a vow.

🏷️ taglist: @cybergracie , @jupitermarss , @basicginn , @dhvnigvil , @emkvlixsx , @collin-thegreat , @somuchpanicverylittledisco

[tinysunshine]

━━━━━ ✧˖° 𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐓 𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐋𝐄 𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑

‎ ‎ [ 𝗸𝗹𝗮𝘂𝘀 𝗺𝗶𝗸𝗮𝗲𝗹𝘀𝗼𝗻 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 ] 𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐬𝐭/𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤

female reader, inclusive language. minors dni.

kinks: priest/religious kink, spanking, punishment, oral sex, corruption kink, degradation, dirty talk, guided masturbation, light dom/sub, sex obviously

warnings and triggers: mentions of past sexual assault, abuse (not by klaus), blood play, literal blasphemy, death and violence, hint of stalking, this is more of a horror story than romance

word count: 12.7k

plot with porn, alternate universe.

there’s a legend whispered among the people of your town, about a fallen angel named klaus, who resides in an abandoned gothic church, buried deep within the forest. it’s said that if a sinner is brave enough to make the journey, to admit their sins in a confessional to the supernatural entity and offer up a sacrifice of their blood, they would be absolved of all their sins.

when your name becomes disgraced in town and your parents turn their back on you, you’re out of options and decide to make the trek to the church in the forest. every sunday, you sit in the confessional booth, admit to your sins, while klaus orders you to do things for him so you can be forgiven. dirty things. sinful things. he tells you to come back every week until he deems your soul completely clean.

klaus might be supernatural, but he’s far from an angel. He feeds on the unlucky sinners dumb enough to take his legend for word, and with each passing week, each confessed sin, all the time you spend in god’s forgotten house of worship, worshipping the wrong vessel, you come to realize: that although god may have turned his back on you - at least he left you klaus.

“Why are you here?” He asks, and suddenly the fact that you’re staring into the eyes of a supernatural creature isn’t as scary as the fact that this creature is a man. A man is what got you into this mess, the reason you’re here.

He’s got no wings. No horns. No halo. He looks like the average man in your town, although much more handsome. It’s sort of a let down and a nice surprise all at the same time.

You don’t answer. You can’t. Your mouth opens and closes like you’re a fish out of water, and you must look ridiculous.

He grabs your chin suddenly, as if he can’t wait any longer to know the reason you’re here. You thought there’d be a confession booth for this, so you wouldn’t have to look into someone else’s eyes to admit the worst thing that's ever happened to you.

The worst thing you’ve ever done.

“Tell me why you’re here,” he orders, locking eyes with you - and you can’t stop it. It’s like you’re in a trance, and the words spill out. It feels natural, even though it’s not. It’s wrong, it’s scary, and you have no control over it.

“I’m here to be cleansed of my sins,” you say, words spilling out of your mouth like vomit, but the guilt that’s been festering for weeks goes away with the release of the words. You don’t understand how it’s happening, what sorcery you’re experiencing that’s letting you share so easily.

“What have you done, little sinner?” He asks, curiosity evident in his voice. You’re almost glad to be in this trance, because it proves something to you - that this ‘man’ is the legend you’ve been chasing, and as scary as it is, you’re going to come out of this situation pure again.

It’s all you want.

“I’ve lost my purity,” you say, and then he drops your chin and stops making eye contact. Stands back from you and looks you over, like he’s inspecting an object. Your entire body heats up, and a random headache comes on so strong that you shut your eyes for a second.

When you open them, he’s looking at your face again. He’s wearing a sinister smirk that only highlights how handsome he is, and you grab onto the cross on your neck, scared. It’s a nervous tick. You’d never guess that being under the scrutiny of an angel would feel so…sinful?

“Do you know what I am?” He asks, crossing his arms. His shirt is black and long sleeved, and in the dark lighting of the church it’s hard to see anything, but it’s like he glows. Skin pale, sculpted face. You nod.

“You’re an angel,” you reply simply, and he actually lets out a little laugh. You wonder why.

“Call me Klaus,” he says casually, and the change in his demeanor is confusing to you. He takes a step back and his eyes trail over your body one more time, from your feet up to your face, although his eyes linger on the cross necklace you’re still firmly grasping in your hand. You quickly let it go, and he chuckles lightly one more time.

“You’re going to be fun.” 

────

You walk into the church and head straight to the altar, palm throbbing in anticipation. There’s an offering dish waiting for you, the bowl gold and gleaming, and you swallow hard with anxiety. 

This is your third visit, and you know what to do. Step into the church and walk straight to the altar, where a bowl sits, ready for your offering. Klaus explained it to you during your first visit. Handed you a small pocket knife and told you to give him your blood. 

Your heart races just thinking about it, the sting of the blade, the way his face looked when he heard the drip of your life essence into the offering dish. His nostrils flared as you squeezed your palm, watching your blood slowly cover the bottom of the bowl. “Enough,” he snapped after a few more seconds, directing you to the confessional booth on the other side of the church. You didn’t look behind you as you followed his directions, but you could hear him drinking from the bowl. 

The light ding when he set it back down on the table. The moan it sounded like he made it when he was done drinking your offering. A shiver ran down your spine. 

You know the routine now. You walk into the church and to the table in the front of the room, the pocket knife waiting for you. You cut open your palm with your eyes closed - it hurts more than the first time because your skin is trying to heal itself, not given a chance to scab over, bright pink. You drop some blood into the dish, and make your way to the confessional booth. 

You don’t know where Klaus waits, but he’s always somewhere, because he always arrives at the confessional booth after you. You always hear him. 

Silent until he clears his throat, the sound of his chair screeching against the floor. “Little sinner,” he says, like he’s surprised you come back every single time. You don’t know why - you’re coming back until he says you’re clean. Your palm burns and you press it against your pants to stop the bleeding, letting out a hiss at the rough fabric of your jeans against it. 

“Forgive me, for I have sinned,” you say through clenched teeth. You swear you can hear him smirking on the other side of the booth, although you’re not sure why or how you’d know that. Why he would think any of this is funny. Maybe human pain is silly as an angel, when nobody or nothing can harm them. 

“Forgive you,” he says, humming like this is a casual conversation. Like he’s contemplating if you deserve forgiveness. “What have you done now?” 

You’re not sure how to answer that. “I’m still impure,” you start, speech rehearsed in your head. You try to get all of it out as quickly as possible, not wanting to carry the weight of all your wrongdoings. You wonder how any one else survives on this planet without sinning so horribly, because a week can’t even go by without you fucking up. 

You don’t let this thought hit you, but it’s definitely there. Ever since you stepped foot in this church, you can’t go a week, a day, an hour without thinking about Klaus and the possibility of a gleaming clean soul.

“I’ve upset my parents. Again. I’ve upset my…suitor.” You don’t want to go into details. Maybe if Klaus doesn’t ask, you won’t have to tell him all the ways you fucked up this week. 

That you didn’t remember to recite your prayers after a long day, that your shirt was too low cut and almost gave your mother a heart attack. That you fed yourself first before serving your brother, and that you’ve been ignoring Peter, your suitor’s, apologizes that are, in your father’s words, not necessary.

You don’t understand how he did the same thing as you and his reputation isn’t tarnished. Just yours, but you’re used to life being unfair. 

Klaus doesn’t answer for a second. You wonder if he wants you to continue. His reply is sudden and sharp. “Yes, well,” you hear him standing up, and you get ready to follow him, because it goes without saying that you’re supposed to go with him to the altar. “You shouldn’t be argumentative,” is his response. You want to say I’m not, but you don’t. You just nod, forgetting he can’t see you. 

“Yes,” you reply, voice caught in your throat. 

“Come,” he orders, and you know he means to meet him at the altar. He goes a different way than you, but you follow him all the same. When you get there, you lose your breath, take in what he’s wearing and sit down on the stairs of the stage while he makes sure your offering is in order. 

Klaus is in a short sleeve grey shirt, and when he lifts the bowl to his mouth to drink your blood, a few drops splatter on the material. You wince, because you know how hard blood stains are to take out - you look down at your jeans and know they’re probably done for, thanks to your bloody palm. 

Klaus finishes his drink and sets the bowl down, looks down at you from the step above with a poker face expression. “You’re still bleeding,” he comments, and you nod, thinking he’s going to offer you a bandage or something, but he doesn’t. Instead, he walks down the steps, past you, to the pew that’s right in front of you. He leans back in the seat and looks at you like you’re on stage to perform. 

“You said suitor,” Klaus says, and you furrow your brows, wondering why he’s honing in on that. He knows about Peter. But does he know something you don’t? Can he read your mind, find out about the truth of your unholiness? 

The thought makes your heart rate pick up, anxiety knotting in your gut. You feel like you’ll start sweating, wondering if the truth about what happened will come out. You’d rather have Klaus believe that you chose to debase yourself - not that you tempted someone into sex. That’s even worse, isn’t it? Being so sinful you’re not even aware of it. Like there’s so much bad in your body that it’s just seeping out of your pores. 

You grip your necklace in nervousness, and Klaus notices. He sits up, leans his hands on his knees, and fixes you with a look that makes you look away. You’re scared - of him, and of him doing that weird sorcery thing he did the first time you were here. 

“Take your clothes off,” he says instead, lighting your entire body on fire. You work up the courage to look at him, and you find yourself obeying. Standing up to kick your shoes off, your jeans, your shirt off too. When you’re left in your underwear and panties, you hear him let out a low whistle, the kind you hear whenever you walk around in town with one of the shirts your mother hates. 

You’re not sure why it doesn’t bother you when he makes the same noise as when other men do. Or why Klaus saying, “Beautiful, every inch,” makes you want to show him more, slip the straps of your bra down your shoulders and let him have a show. “So perfect, it’s a shame you’re a filthy sinner,” he’s smirking as he says it, but you don’t see the playfulness because you’re avoiding his eyes. 

“Stop,” he says suddenly, voice low, speeding over to you with a swiftness you know isn’t human. He grabs your hand that’s at your side, and as he does, his knuckles skim over your stomach. You feel your entire body scream with want. Lit up, like fireworks. You’ve never felt anything like it before. Have never met a man who’s gotten this reaction out of you. 

Although, you suppose, you’ve never been this close with a man in this state of undress - aside from Peter. But this feels different. 

“I can smell your blood from here,” he says, picking up your hand and looking it over. It looks disgusting, torn up and scabbing, fresh blood coming out of the half closed up wound - and it’s embarrassing that he can smell it. 

“Who told you to come here?” He finally asks, and you don’t know how to reply. You weren’t expecting that. “My father,” you answer honestly, confusion evident in your tone. Klaus nods, before pressing his thumb into the wound on your hand. You let out a cry, and you swear that for a second you see a dark satisfaction grace his face. 

“Father,” he murmurs, with more weight on his tongue than the word should carry. He’s silent, looking at you, gazing over your body while putting pressure on the wound. His gaze lingers a little too hard at the bruise on your hip, one that came from Peter the other day, shoving by you while you ran into him when buying groceries in town. He’s so rough since you refused to forgive him, always looking for excuses to be cruel to you. 

“Did your father give you that bruise?”

You don’t answer. You look away, once again afraid of the truth spilling out. Because you don’t know Klaus, or anything about him - but you’re frightened that he, someone heavenly, might deem you too imperfect if he knew the truth. You don’t want to answer. 

Klaus is impatient. When he lets go of your hand, he storms out of the room for a quick second, only to enter again with his own wrist all bloody. He grabs the back of your head before you even know what’s happening, and shoves his wrist in your mouth, tells you to suck. 

“You say you want to be cleansed,” he accuses, venom in his voice. “But you won’t talk. You won’t open up and tell the truth,” the taste of his blood in your mouth makes you want to puke, and you wonder if he’s trying to kill you or harm you. You can’t tell, but you cry out against him. It’s hard to breathe. 

“Withholding the truth is just as bad as the sin itself, you know.” He pulls his wrist away from your mouth and focuses on your reaction, but all you can do is look down at your hand. It tingles because the wound heals on its own, so fast you’re suddenly very aware of the fact that you’re in front of a being that's literally magical. You almost start shaking. 

You wonder why he doesn’t just use sorcery again to get the truth out of you. But you begin to understand.

He wants you to stutter. To slip up with your words and make a fool of yourself, so that he’ll have an excuse to punish you. You recall what Klaus said the last time you were there - the more blood, the more pain, the more bruises - the cleaner the soul. You gulp at the reality that you’re about to hurt. 

Klaus sits on the steps of the stage and pulls you over his lap. He manhandles you like you weigh nothing, spanks your ass red and raw, grips your wrists and your hips and your thighs to keep you in place until they’re almost purple with bruises. “How’s this for purity?” He asks, fingers pressing into the cotton of your panties that covers your core. You’re aroused, and if he can smell your blood, you know that he can smell that. Your entire body heats up in shame.

Euphoria too. You’ll never understand how what Peter did to you makes you unholy, but this, with Klaus, somehow makes you pure again.

But with religion, you’ve learned to not ask questions. 

This moment with Klaus tells you that you’re in the right place - because what kind of person gets turned on, feels arousal, when being punished? 

When he’s done beating your behind, he pulls up your panties and practically shoves you to your feet. You’re shaky as you stand and put your clothes on, tears falling down your cheeks. Less from the pain of the punishment - more for the pain in your soul. 

Klaus shakes his head, almost talking to himself. “It’s dark now. You should go. Come here again, next week.” You nod, and try not to show just how scared you are of walking home in the dark again. Whenever you leave the church, you practically run the whole way, wanting to get home fast, the sounds of all the animals at night absolutely terrifying to you.

You slip on your sweater, your other jacket (you learned your lesson after the first visit, how cold it gets), and your pants slowly, all while Klaus watches you for reasons you’re not sure of. You wonder, now that your body is bruised and hurting, if he’ll give you some of his blood again to heal you up. But he doesn’t. 

When he walks away, cold and cruel, you leave the church and begin to walk back home. You’re only halfway home, the moon as your only light, when you see it. 

A massive looking wolf halfway behind a tree, loud as it steps on crunchy leaves and twigs. You freeze, but to your relief, the wolf just walks the other direction. 

You consider yourself lucky, although the rest of the walk home, you swear you hear the sound of something following you. Maybe you’re just paranoid. You spend the rest of your walk home replaying how it felt to be over Klaus’ lap like that - how arousal pools deep in your belly at the feeling of pain. It’s different than when you’re hurt without expecting it. You knew the smacks were coming, and maybe, just maybe -

You can enjoy that you will be free of sin soon. How nice it feels, just to put yourself in Klaus’ hands and not worry about the future of your soul.

You make it home and sneak in through the window. Your parents know you left, but it’s not like they care. They just seem surprised to see you every morning when you join them for breakfast. Maybe because they can’t believe you’re taking this soul cleansing thing so seriously. You’re not sure.

You’re quiet as you change into your pajamas. As you look in the mirror and gaze, although with a wince, at your bruises - you realize that Klaus healed you of the bruise Peter made so he didn’t have to see anyone else’s harm on your body. 

So the mark of his pain would be the only thing on your skin.

You’re flush red at the thought and turn away from the mirror, walking to your bed. You’re just about to turn out the lights when you catch a glimpse of something moving outside your window. It’s a little ways away, but it’s clear what it is. 

The wolf from the forest followed you home.

When you shut off your lights, it walks away.

────

You stand in front of the altar, wondering where Klaus is. You wait for him to call you from a pew, to appear out of nowhere. Maybe he knows you’re expecting him now, know his little tricks, and is coming up with another one. You walk to the confessional booth, the church feeling unusually dark, but then again - you’re here at a later time than usual. 

You’re in the hall that leads to the confessional when you see Klaus. Only - 

He’s not waiting for you. 

Klaus stands against the wall, just a few feet away from the confessional booth. You only see the side of him, but you can tell that he’s smiling, the same kind of grin he gives you when he finally gets you to confess or beg him for some mercy. You think back to your last visit, when he had you over his knee, counting out loud as he spanked you for the sin of lying to one of your friends. For the sin of being impure. 

For the sin of getting aroused while he punished you. 

Something negative stirs in your chest at the thought of Klaus doing that to another woman like you. That he might use his corrective powers to make another woman pure again. To touch her body and look her over, to lick her blood from the offering bowl. 

Only now, you take yourself out of your thoughts and look down to Klaus’ feet. There’s a man on his knees, quietly sobbing, and you realize you know him. He’s a baker from your village, a man that has constantly picked fun at you for years. You remember times you were a few pennies short, or when he just wanted to fuck with you - would tell you he’ll give you bread for your family if you’d just flash him in the baking room. 

You wonder why he’s here. What he could’ve done worse than harassing women to show their breasts for bread. But it seems pretty bad. 

Something inside of you feels pleasure, at the fact that this man that you hate, who’s caused you so much discomfort, is actually hurting. You wonder what Klaus is going to do to him - if he’ll ever be granted salvation. Surely Klaus isn’t going to spank him? 

“Too late for redemption. Pathetic. Up,” Klaus says, voice much louder than necessary. The man stands on shaky legs and wipes his face. It happens so fast, you can hardly make sense of it. Klaus grabs the man by the shoulder and brings him close, lunges for his neck while the man screams. There’s a grotesque sound, one you’ve never heard before, but it’s predatory, the grip Klaus has on him. 

It all clicks, just as the wheels turning in your mind tell you that you need to go. You run, fast, out of the church.

Klaus drinks blood. He drinks your blood. He drinks blood from the neck of the people begging for his forgiveness. 

Panic surges through you as you run through the church. Klaus is not an angel, you realize, and your body breaks out in goosebumps as you run through the forest away from the church. 

The man thats’s been touching you, hurting you, drinking your blood - he’s no angel. He’s not from Heaven at all. 

Whatever Klaus Mikaelson is - it can’t be good. 

The moon makes the graveyard you’re running through look like sharp fucking teeth. You have a feeling that’s similar to the one you felt after the…incident. After your suitor touched you. The reason you’re here in the first place. Because it’s one thing if Klaus is an angel, but taking advantage of you the way he did? 

Why don’t you care more? 

He’s touched your body. He’s seen you naked. He’s -

Right behind you. 

You can feel him. He must’ve finished with the baker and is now following you. You want to keep running but your body freezes in fear. You stop, because he’s closing in. There’s no way you can outrun him, so you decide to hide instead. Make it to a tree and stop there. 

You try to control you breathing, because you’re really scared. Klaus never gave an inkling that he’d kill you, but there’s no way the other man survived that...feed. Maybe Klaus was just waiting for the right moment to hurt you, harm you. 

There’s a crack of something stepping on a twig. 

You close your eyes as he rounds the tree, but when your eyes open after a second it’s not Klaus. Unless…no. It’s a wolf - large, predatory, its eyes glowing in the night. 

You take off running, your mind reeling with the fact that it’s the same wolf you saw outside of your window weeks ago. You run until you hear the wolf growl, stupidly going in the opposite direction of your home, but as long as you get away from the wolf you’re fine. Maybe you can make it up a tree, hideout for the night -

But then you fall, over a log, your body shaking with fear and adrenaline. “Why are you following me?” You cry out. “I didn’t see anything, I,” you realize how dumb that sounds. You obviously saw something to act the way you just did. 

Slowly, the wolf walks towards you. Big, tawny paws, eyes so scary you shut yours. You wait for it to pounce but it never does. Instead, it stops a few feet in front of you. Looks at you, as if contemplating you. 

You look away, but the sound of bones cracking, the horrible sound of muscle rearranging, has you looking again. The wolf’s shape contorts, shrinking, morphing back into the angel you thought you knew. 

Klaus.

He looks normal again, although - he’s completely naked. You don’t know if your heart is racing from his perfect, naked body - the first fully naked man you’ve ever seen, or the fact that he’s no longer a wolf looking to kill you. 

"What are you?" you whisper, barely able to form the words. Klaus is just looking at you laying on the ground, cupping his…package like you haven’t felt it rubbing against you all the those times you were over his lap. 

But if he’s a wolf that means….he was the one following you home? 

“Not an angel, love. That much I’m sure,” he says, like this is funny. Like it’s a joke to you. He steps forward, eyes softening in a way that seems almost affectionate. It makes no sense to you.  

"I'm a hybrid," he answers, voice smooth.

“Hybrid?”

────

You stand at the entrance to the church again, trying to work up the courage to walk inside. It’s funny, how this time your hesitation is not because you’re scared - it’s because you feel pathetic.

Seeing Klaus as he truly is - not an angel - it should make you run. It should make you never come to this church again, should have you knocking on every door of your village at home, warning everyone of the danger that lives so close to home. You don’t know how long this legend has gone on, you don’t know how long Klaus has been making the perfect trap for the people of your village. Like easy food.

You know now, that Klaus doesn’t have the ability to heal your soul of anything. That the things you did with him - maybe they’re just as bad as the things Peter did to you. You wonder, if that’s the case - why it feels so different then.

After what happened with Peter…you felt ashamed. Wanted to cover your body up. Wanted to hide from the world. But being around Klaus - you kind of feel the opposite. Sometimes you even linger in your window, hoping he’s there in his wolf form, slipping your clothes off and taking too long to put on your pajama top, hoping he sees. You don’t know if he does.

You don’t know what’s wrong with you. Why the monster masquerading as a angel doesn’t have you screaming and locking yourself away in your room for good.

All you know, is that the guilt you felt the first day you came to this church, lessens every single time you see Klaus - and you don’t want that feeling to go away. So you’re here, at night, because you weren’t scared this time to walk here. The greatest threat in these forests has walked you home to ensure you safety before. Has had ample opportunity to kill you - and hasn’t.

You push open the church door. Even though you’re choosing to be here, you can’t help but feel like you’re walking into the mouth of the beast. You take a deep breath, pushing the door open, and step inside.

There, standing at the altar, is Klaus. His arms are crossed, and he’s looking right at you, which is different than the usual times you’ve arrived. Normally, Klaus lets you linger before making his presence known.

You’ve never been one interested danger - you’re a good girl through and through. Or, you were, before the incident. But there’s something about Klaus - something dangerous that calls to you in a way you don’t understand. Maybe it’s the fact that this legend being a sham opens up a world of other possibilities.

Maybe the world as you’ve always known it - a world with god - is a sham as well. You know that should make you scared, but all the thought does is send a crazy relief throughout your body.

You’re going to burn in hell.

But Klaus might be there.

“What are you doing here?” His voice is soft, but there’s a meanness in it as well. His tone is an odd mix of surprise and something that could almost be considered a warning.

You step forward, ignoring the rush of anxiety in your chest, the voice that tells you to leave, dummy. But you don’t listen. You don’t want to.

“I wanted to come back,” you say, voice wavering only slightly.

Klaus exhales sharply, shaking his head and doing a laugh you can tell is one that comes from anger. “Why?” he repeats, his voice suddenly booming. “You know what I am. You saw me. And yet you come back, after all of that? Are you stupid, or just more naive than I took you for?”

You take another step. The pull toward him is like a magnetic force that’s impossible to run from. “I don’t care,” you say, though the words are barely audible. “I don’t care what you are. I just...please don’t make me leave.”

Fuck, why are you so pathetic? It’s embrassing, that you came back here. It’s embarrassing, that you hold onto this beast’s every word like gospel.

Why am I not scared? You scream to yourself. As you get closer, a little voice pipes in from the back of your head.

You are, it reminds you, and you like it.

You think that Klaus is going to ask you why. You think that he’s going to kick you out - although, judging by the way he looks at you, with irritation someone only has for something they don’t despise, you know that’s just your anxiety talking.

A sudden burst of confidence explodes in your chest, and you let it carry you. “I feel…light around you,” you try to explain. Klaus won’t even look at you. Whatever dynamic you two have is insane. It’s cold. There’s no warmness from him, and it’s not like you lead anything to even feel like a part of an equation. Klaus is on a pedestal, literally - and you like it that way. You can’t explain why, but you do.

And he might not be an angel, but he’s powerful enough for it to mean something. Supernatural - and maybe it’s not a gift from the heavens, but one from hell, but you’re not even sure if that matters. Magic is magic. Special is special.

And Klaus is the closest thing you’ve ever come to something extraordinary.

You’re standing by the altar now, on the opposite side from Klaus. He looks at you, with something like pity in his eyes. “Light. You know what that feeling is, don’t you?” he asks. You shake your head. “It’s adrenaline.” You’re still at a loss, not understanding what he means.

“You’re scared of me,” he clarifies.

“I want to, can I - can you,” you cannot believe you’re saying this. “Show me more. Please.” You grip your necklace again, a move that you swear makes Klaus almost roll his eyes, but then you think about what your teacher used to say - at least attitude means youn feel comfortable around me. You wonder if that’s how Klaus feels.

He probably thinks you’re so naive. You play into that.

You worry that he’s going to ask you to say more. Describe in detail what you want him to show you - and even though you’re feeling bold today, you’re not that bold.

He doesn’t.

“Have you ever made a man cum with your mouth?” He asks blunty, stepping around the altar and into your space. Your body heats up, your heart speeds up so fast you’re sure you’re going to pass out. He smells woodsy, warm, like the trees outside - and you wonder if that lingers from his wolf form, or is just what he smells like as a person. You breathe him in, feel his strong hands on your hips pushing you against the altar so you’re trapped.

All these weeks, and you haven’t seen his dick, haven’t felt him in a sexual way beyond the feeling of his hard bulge under your thighs when he has you over his lap, or his fingers teasing you about your wetness through your panties. Little touches, but you’ve memorized them. Think about them whenever you have the chance, to be honest.

You shake your head in response to his question.

Klaus lips curl into a dangerous smile. He’s so handsome, it’s unfair. Like the devil knew looks meant something in this world, and sent his prettiest soldier. “Present your offering to me,” he says, you furrow your brows, confused. Weren’t you just talking about giving head?

You look for the bowl, but Klaus grabs you gently by the chin and chuckles. He lets go. “Your mouth can be the offering today,” and fuck. He pushes you to your knees, and you go easy, looking up at him in all his glory.

He really is glorious. Sculpted abs, pale, perfect skin without an imperfection. It makes sense, if his blood that can heal is running through his veins. You’re a little jealous, of what that level of untouchable means.

“You’ve never done this,” he says, and you can’t tell if it’s a question or not. You nod, confirming. “Shame,” he says, “With lips like that it seems like the first thing a girl like you would learn.”

You blush. Again, you’re reminded about how weird it feels to enjoy what he’s saying - because when Peter talked to you like this, all you felt was disgust. But when Klaus says it, you know that wetness is probably pooling in your panties, your knees jello from how turned on, overwhelmed, you are in this situation.

You open your mouth and look up at him, and then Klaus unzips his pants. He’s hard already, and you can’t deny the thought that you’ve been thinking about this ever since you saw him naked in the forest. It’s primal almost, the strength of this man - it makes sense why you, someone weak and totally human, is on your knees in front of him.

You lick your lips, and Klaus wears that delicious smirk again. He pumps his hard cock in his hands a few times, before running the tip all over your lips. His precum wets them like lipgloss, and you wonder what’s got him so aroused since you just walked in.

Another sinner? A woman, that he plays with like a cat with a mouse? The thought makes jealousy and something in you stirs to be better than her. If she even exists.

But then you see his hands. You didn’t notice the blood at first, but his nails are stained red. It only takes a second for you to realize, and then you get it -

Klaus is hard because he killed someone before you arrived.

“Like what you see?” He asks, looking down at you. You widen your eyes, and he teases you by shoving his cock halfway in your mouth, and then pulling it away. His dick grazes the side of your cheek and he chuckles, and the way you feel on the ground is so utterly degraded.

But it’s controlled, if that makes sense. You know it’s happening. It doesn’t feel like you did, walking through your village with your clothes ripped up after dealing with Peter. It’s - safe? in a way.

Klaus takes a step back to look down at you, thumb and pointer finger running over the smooth head of his cock. He looks like he wants to moan at the feeling, but restrains himself, if only for a minute.

He fucks your mouth after that. Lets you suckle on his dick as he gently pushes it between your lips, so you get used to the feeling. Your mouth stretches, and when he hits the back of your throat you nearly panic.

Klaus grips your hair and reminds you to breathe. “That’s it, love,” he says, voice a coo - almost mocking. He cups your face when he gets a little rougher, slips his finger into the side of your mouth to stretch it even more. Like you’re a toy he’s playing with. He licks over his lips.

“Your eyes,” he murmurs, and you open them wider as he says that. “Like an angel.” It’s not a dirty comment - it’s actually kind of sweet, and that takes you off guard. You sputter around his cock because you forget to relax, and then Klaus lets go of your hair.

He leans against the altar and puts his hands on the back of his neck, arms bent at the elbow like he’s stretching. As you look up at him, gagging around his cock in your mouth, you notice that he’s standing in front of the cross on the wall. He’s a ways away from it, but in this position, it makes it look like he’s meant to be there. Perfectly in the center, his hands and arm position like wings on either side of his shoulder.

He said you look like an angel - but you could say the same about him.

────

“I’ve been too easy on you,” Klaus says the next week, when you’re sitting at the confessional booth. You don’t know why sometimes he chooses to have you talk in the booth all proper, and why sometimes he wants you somewhere else in the church. Nothing with Klaus makes sense - in fact, nothing about this situation makes sense.

And you’re not the only one who thinks so. Everyone in town has been acting weird around you. Avoiding you still, yes, but more so than usual. After your first visit with Klaus, when you came through the door early the next morning, your father literally jumped up from the kitchen table where your mother was serving breakfast. Spilled his coffee all over his newspaper and exclaimed, “What on earth are you - doing back so early?”

You didn’t answer. Just walked to your room and closed the door, ate after the rest of your family left the kitchen.

“Easy on me?” You ask, because you have no idea what Klaus means. Nothing he’s told you to do has been easy. You think about it now, squeezing your knees together as you sit on the other side of the booth from him. The spankings, the blowjob that ended in him cumming all over your necklace.

“Playing naive doesn’t make you holy again. Being meek doesn’t make you immune to sin. You need to learn that,” and for the first time, you actually laugh a little. Because what does Klaus actually know about sinning? He admitted the truth of what he was to you. He knows you come here not to be holy again - but to feel free.

“I know,” you reply, and it’s like something in him snaps. When he speaks again, his tone is mean.

“You know? Well, by all means, show me just how confident you are.” You’re confused. You don’t know what he means by that, and luckily, you don’t have to worry about, because he tells you.

“Tell me what you want. I can smell your arousal from here.”

Woah. That takes you off guard. It’s like your body is trained, to be aroused the minute you walk into this church. To crave the feeling of Klaus’ hands all over your body, to crave the feeling of the pain he brings. The feelings he brings out in you, although not right, are more holy and healing than anything you’ve ever experienced before.

It’s addicting, the feeling of slight freedom you get when you come here. Addicting and appealing enough that you’re able to ignore the different faces of god on the walls of the church as you walk inside.

“I don’t know what you mean, Klaus,” you say shyly, squeezing your thighs together for some relief. It’s warmer out today, so you’re wearing a skirt - maybe that’s why you’re so obvious. Klaus chuckles.

“You step foot in this church and immediately are turned on, little sinner. Practically cum all over yourself when I get close to you. You’re not the shy, inexperienced girl you were when you came in. At least  - your throat isn’t. Tell. Me. What. You. Want.”

He punctuates it for effect. Your mind begins reeling, but maybe super religious people are right - not being able to see his face, sitting in your own part of the confessional - it gives your confidence you wouldn’t have face to face.

“I want,” but he cuts you off again.

“Tell me what you think about when you’re under the covers of your bed at home,” he urges, voice low. He’s turned on too. “You really should turn your lamp off at night, by the way. Anyone from the window can see you through the mirror.”

And fuck.

Has he been - ?

“I imagine a mouth,” you admit, cheeks red. Looking down at your hands that you’re playing with in your lap.

“A mouth?” Klaus asks, clicking his tongue. “Or mine?”

“Yours.”

Klaus hums. He’s pleased with your answer.

“Tell me more.”

Your face burns. “I can’t, I, I’ve never done that before. Your…dick in my mouth made me think about what it’d be like…” you trail off.

It’s silent for a moment. You never expressed your desires before, and you feel fucking embrassed. But it’s also empowering. A little spark inside of you burning up the anxiety you always feel about your own needs. You rarely speak your truth. Maybe the shallowness of expressing your desires can be the catalyst for expressing yourself in other ways.

“You want me to lick your pussy, is that it?” Klaus asks, so vulgar you actually choke on some spit. You cough, and can’t see him but you know he’s smirking.

“Don’t be shy, little sinner. You are a sinner, aren’t you? Bad girls ask for what they want, isn’t that right? Haven’t you been raised to be good?” He’s not wrong. “So do the opposite of what you think you should do. Tell me how badly you want me to push that little skirt up and lick you to an orgasm. It’ll be better than your fingers.”

Oh my god. Like a dirty sermon, the words spill out of his mouth. But he’s right.

“I want,” you can’t get it out. Klaus sighs, frustrated.

“You say the words, and I’ll leave my side of the booth and drop to my knees in front of you. I’ve always wondered how you’d taste. Being the first to bring you to the brink of pleasure with my mouth - I’ll never forget it.”

You want this so bad. You sigh, bite your lip, squeeze you legs together again.

“Klaus, I. Please - will you lick me?” God, how fucking embarrassing. How fucking shameless. Your parents would literally dig their own graves if they ever knew you were saying this. You came home with ripped clothes and bruises all over your body after Peter tore your innocence from you even when you said no - and they hate you for it. Imagine how they’d feel now, looking at you begging a creature straight from hell to lick your cunt.

“Good girl,” Klaus says casually, and you feel proud. Nobody has ever said that to you before. You expect to hear the chair squeak, for him to move, to give you what you want now that you did what he said.

Instead, he’s still talking. “Lift up your dress and feel yourself over your panties, sweetheart,” he orders. You do what he says, fingers pressing hard over your pussy through your cotton underwear. It’s painful in a good way, and you’re wet. Probably have a wet spot.

“Tell me. How wet are you? Just from my voice, no?” He’s teasing. Such a cocky, confident bastard. But you nod, and then he reminds you. “Words. Can’t see you.”

“Yes,” you spit out. “Your voice. This place, I,” you rub yourself.

“Take the panties off and touch yourself. How you do at home, with your hands under your covers in your panties and your hand over your mouth.” You open your mouth to ask how he knows this, but you fall short. You do what he says, stand and up to take your panties off, wanting to hear another good girl. After a life without praise, you want that hit of it again.

You sit back down and flip your skirt up, rubbing your clit gently while little moans leave your mouth. “A finger inside. Have you done that? I want you to. For me.”

You’ve never done that. Never tired, but you do what Klaus says and slip a finger inside of yourself.  After so much time so pent up, you’re close already. Really. Just a few minutes rubbing your clit, that’s how backed up you are. Klaus must sense it. Because your pussy clenches around your measly finger like it’s hungry and then there’s a slam and he does that speed thing that lands him in front of you.

Your legs are vulgarly spread wide, and Klaus is on his knees in front of you. It feels wrong, him in a position of worship to someone like you. You almost want to tell him to get up, but you’re not that selfless. Not when his necklace hits your leg as he dives between your legs, his hands spreading your knees even further apart. He looks hungry - similar to how he looks when he drinks your blood from the dish.

“Shame you’re not on your cycle,” he says grossly. “That’d be an offering all in itself.”

Klaus licks between your legs and laps up your slick, his warm, skilled tongue feeling like what you imagine heaven feels like. He moves his tongue from your clit down to your aching core. You don’t know why it aches - have never had more than one person inside of you, but god do you want Klaus.

He makes you cum right there in that confessional booth. Three times. Once, on his tongue, and the next two with his fingers buried inside of you. He says you taste sweet, that you could convince a good man to take a deal of eternal damnation for a taste of you, that he’s never seen a pussy so perfect, and all you can do is whine and moan and call out to god.

Klaus pulls away when you do, handsome face covered in your wetness. Smelling like you. Your heart races as he licks his lips. “Call me Klaus.”

────

You stumble backward as Peter shoves you, his hand pressing sharply against your shoulder. The force of it catches you off guard, and you try to regain your balance, but the ground feels slippery beneath your feet. His laugh rings out, harsh and mocking, and you fall backwards, your hands scrambling for purchase. You can’t believe this is happening in town, with people around you watching this - not giving a shit. 

Your knees hit the pavement with a sickening scrape, the rough concrete cutting into your skin before you even have a chance to break your fall. A sharp sting bursts across your knee, one ten times worse than the feeling of the pocket knife you use for your offering. You bite your lip, trying to hold back the tears that sting your eyes. The pain is immediate and raw, the kind of sting that burns and throbs all at once.

"Oops," Peter sneers, his voice dripping with amusement. He says he cares about you, that he still wants you, yet he can’t stop tormenting you whenever he sees you. Boys will be boys your mother keeps saying, but surely this can’t be what someone does when they want you? You start to cry, trying to sniffle back the tears. 

You glance up, gritting your teeth against the pain, and you meet his eyes. Peter’s smirk widens, and there's no apology in sight - only the cruel satisfaction of someone enjoying the sight of your discomfort. He was bad before the incident, but after it, he’s so much worse. You wish he’d just leave you alone. You can’t believe you ever thought he was handsome - that you were ever excited when he’d come pick you up, or take you out. He’s ugly to you now that you know who he is on the inside. 

"Get up," he snaps, his tone cold and dismissive as if this is some sort of game to him. You try to push yourself up, wincing as your scraped knee protests, but your legs feel unsteady, and there's a humiliated heat creeping up your neck.

"Come on, you're not gonna stay down there forever, are you? Oh, well - maybe you are. Spend enough time on your knees at that church, don’t you?" His voice drips with sarcasm. What he says stings more than the wound on your knee - because you’re only going to the church because of what he did to you. 

On the flip side, you only know Klaus because of him, so maybe things do happen for a reason.

You want to say something, to snap back at him, but the sting of the scrape and the weight of his presence presses down on you, leaving you feeling small, and it’s hard to muster the energy to fight back. He reaches down for your necklace, and for reasons you don’t understand, rips it off of you.

You look down until he waks away - you don’t want to let him see you cry.

────

“What happened to you?”

His voice makes you jump, and you almost stumble over a gravestone that’s half toppled over. You catch yourself and stand steady, but your heart is beating at an alarming rate at your surprise. This is the first time, in all the weeks you’ve been coming to repent, that Klaus is standing outside of the church. 

You’re almost to the front door, but not quite, about to open the door to the broken, barbed gate that was once a protection for the church, but now sits as a reminder of how long it’s been since this place of worship was properly used. Every time you walk past it, you feel something like sorrow in your chest, looking at the locks different couples throughout the years have clasped on the broken fence when it wasn’t so decrepit. 

They probably thought their love would last, you think, something like bile rising in your throat at the thought. It’s pathetic and sad, that anyone could ever think that love or another person could save them. That’s the angry, negative part of your brain. The other part of you, the one that wants to believe in good so bad you can almost taste traces of it when the moment is right - well, it can’t even make the locks romantic. Can’t even turn love that’s frozen in time into something sweet. 

Maybe the couples who put these locks on the fence are still together, your brain reasons, trying to think on the bright side, but your thoughts quickly tumble to the negative as they always do. It doesn’t really matter though, does it? Those couples, even if they stayed together, are dead now anyway. 

So much for a bright sunny day. 

You grip the gate with one hand and lean against it, hoping it doesn’t topple over - but you need something to support you to be in the presence of Klaus this close. He’s in a black, long sleeved shirt, a rosary around his neck, and he looks so angry you worry about your safety. 

“What?” You ask dumbly, so lost in his eyes and the symbol of devotion around the neck of such a monster you don’t even remember what he said when you first walked up to him. You swallow hard when he sighs, obviously irritated, before crouching down and pulling your knee high sock down to your ankle. 

You blush, at Klaus on the ground in front of you. His hair is almost golden where the sun hits it, hands strangely soft where they touch your skin. You think about a story your father used to tell you, about the devil; how he’s not a man with red horns and skin, but a beautiful angel that turned rotten. 

You think that’s accurate, looking down at Klaus. His beauty. When he looks up at you, still frustrated at your lack of response, you finally realize what he’s talking about. 

The white of your sock has a red stained circle where you knee is, some dirt covering it. Your exposed knee burns, now that you focus on it, from when you fell down. 

When you were pushed.

You try to push those thoughts out of your head, because you’re here now, and it’s time for you to repent and move past it all. Isn’t that what your father told you to do, after the fight you had with Peter again? Confess. Repent. Get over it. 

“What happened to you?” Klaus asks again, his patience wearing thin. You’re no vampire, er, hybrid, but you swear you can hear his breathing. Heavy, like he’s angry, like he’s upset, and then he locks his jaw and looks up at you and you realize what he’s really mad at. 

You really can’t go one day without fucking everything up, can you? You made Peter mad today, and now you’re making Klaus mad. Both have the ability to hurt you, one worse than the other. You feel unwanted tears start to burn in your eyes, and you wish more than anything that you’d had a chance to breathe and change your clothes after you fell into the trap that is Peter.��

“I fell,” you say meekly, hating yourself for being mousy, average, annoying. Quiet. So utterly ordinary and useless it makes you want to rip your skin off just to start fresh. Be someone, anyone, new. 

“You wouldn’t skin your knee this bad if you just fell. Someone pushed you,” Klaus replies, hand still on your thigh. You try to focus on that feeling, his hand steadying you, anything to keep you grounded so you don’t cry. It works a little bit, because you don’t even hear the concern in Klaus’ voice. “Tell me who pushed you.”

You shake your head and try to pull your leg out of his grasp. “I fell, Klaus, I swear,” you lie, and you hate yourself even more, if that’s possible. You feel bad, after the vulnerability you’ve shown Klaus before, that you’re acting like this now. Why should you protect Peter?  It’s so wrong. You’re just scared to admit how badly you fucked up today, how you made Peter mad again, when you’re supposed to be getting better. That’s what Klaus has been helping you with, hasn’t he? 

You’re such a failure. 

Klaus doesn’t reply. Instead, he leans forward and licks at the bloody wound on your leg. It’s disgusting, and you hold you breath, the feeling of his wet, warm tongue on the owie on your leg such a horrible sensation…

Until it’s not. 

He cleans off your knee with his mouth, in broad daylight, before standing up. He looks at you all disappointed, because he can see right through you. Knows you’re lying, knows you’re a screw up, and him looking at you with that expression is just too much. 

Your eyes water. You instinctively go to grip the cross on your neck, a nervous tick - only to be reminded that you’re not wearing your necklace. Klaus’ eyes follow the movement. He clicks his tongue, disappointed. 

Not like the amusement he usually has when he makes that noise. The fun he gets, out of making you confess. 

“Come, little sinner,” he orders, a hand on your shoulder to direct you past the run down gate, into the even more worse for wear church. You follow, doing your best not to stumble, wound on your leg still burning despite the way he licked it clean. 

You ignore the other burning you feel, always feel, around Klaus. In this church. Burning of your cheeks, burning of arousal in your core, burning with want in every inch of your body he touches and doesn’t. 

When you’re inside the church, Klaus leads you to the altar and orders you to strip and kneel. 

“But my knee,” you say before thinking it through, another sin for not just obeying. A woman is supposed to obey, you hear your mother’s voice in your head. 

God, you ask, and not as a curse - it’s a genuine plea. A genuine question. Why can I never do anything right? 

“When you tell me the truth about what happened to your knee, you’re free to go. Already got my offering,” he reminds you, referring to the blood he lapped up off of your knee. Klaus is sitting a few pews down to watch as you get your shoes off, pull your socks off, something dark in his eyes that you’re not sure is desire or frustration or something else entirely. 

He looks too beautiful to be watching you be so useless, the sun shining through the stained glass window casting his pale, handsome face in a mosaics of bright colors. What you wouldn’t give, to look like that. Painted by the sun itself. Instead you’re dreary, dumb, a punching bag who can never get anything fucking right. 

You do what Klaus says, get on your knees and stay there until you can’t take it anymore. It hurts, putting all your weight on the wound, but the position is uncomfortable anyway. And Klaus just watches, in the third pew from the stage, while you cry, trying to come up with the words to say what happened without admitting the whole truth to him.

I made Peter mad, you want to say. You want to cry out. I asked him to apologize for what he did to me, and I should’ve left it alone. That’s why he pushed me. Please, just clean my soul of this. 

Nothing comes out. 

Klaus sends you home an hour and a half later, knees bruised, cheeks wet with tears. He brushes them away roughly when he helps you stand, pulls your socks back up your knees and helps you out the door. 

“You waste my time when you lie to me,” he reminds, which you know. “How can I help you if you won’t tell me what what’s wrong?” You don’t hear the pleading in his voice. 

All you hear is how big of a disappointment you are.

────

“Here,” Klaus hands you a box just as you pick up the pocket knife from the altar. He comes out of nowhere, behind you, and you can’t help but think that he chose to make himself known that way so he could press himself against you. Your body burns where he touches you, and you find it funny that he put a nice looking box on the altar where you slit your hand open for him.

“A gift?” You ask. You can count on one hand, the number of gifts you’ve received. Your parents don’t belive in shit like that, but you’re excited nonetheless. You don’t wait to open it, and your surprise when you see what’s inside must show on your face. Klaus does a shy smile, an expression you’ve never seen him wear before.

It’s a necklace. Like the one Peter broke. It’s gold, heavy - the same material as your cross one. Only -

There’s no cross on this one.

Just a K.

For Klaus.

It’s a weird gift. You don’t know what to say to it, because Klaus expects you to wear this? An initial of his name? You’re not sure what’s happening here, only that you feel like this is…serious. Sensitive. What?

He must see your face again. But you don’t want to disappoint him. You grab the necklace and hand it to him, turning around and moving your hair out of the way so he can clip it on you. His hands linger, and then cup the sides of your throat. For a split second you wonder if he’s going to snap your neck, but he doesn’t.

“I want you to wear it, when you’re here,” he says, like an order he knows you’ll obey. “But if you ever wise up and choose to…get out of this town, you could probably sell it for a pretty penny.”

You furrow your brows and then to face him. “Leave? What else is there? More shitty towns?” Klaus looks at you like you’re crazy.

“You’ve got no idea what’s out there, do you?” You shake your head, confused. “It’s part of your appeal, little sinner, that naivety - but there’s so much more out there. Art. Music. Beautiful places, and cities. Places where men don’t,” he pauses, and your breath hitches. You wonder what he’s going to say. “Nevermind.”

“You talk like you’re going to leave,” you say, insecurity showing in your voice. Because you’re not sure what you and Klaus are. Aren’t stupid enough to even think that you’re something. But the thought of him leaving when he’s the only thing in your mind, the only decent thing in your life, is just too much to handle. What’s wrong with you? One man shows you a lick of kindness and suddenly you’re worshipping at his altar?

Klaus steps closer to you, grabs your waist. “I’m not leaving.”

You open your mouth but Klaus cuts you off. Looks at the necklace on your neck, his initial, like a brand. “I want to fuck you,” he says suddenly. Your body responds, you feel your nipples harden and your stomach tighten, turned on with just those few words.

You look down, shake your head. You want Klaus to fuck you - of course you do, but it doesn’t change the fact that the thought of sex makes you freeze up. You’ve done everything else, naughty things with Klaus, yet -

You can’t run from your past.

“Klaus,” you want to explain yourself. You’re ready this time, to tell him what happened to you. Why you come here. You want to share. “There was this man. My suitor. He pushed me and he hurt me and -“

“I’m not going to force you.”

You’re frozen after that. He knows. Even better, he seems to understand what happened to you by the hands of Peter, and he doesn’t seem to blame you.

Klaus bends to his knees and runs his hands down leg. It’s gentle, for no reason other than the fact that he wants to touch you.

“What are you doing?” You whisper, and he doesn’t say anything. Just kisses the scar on your knee, up your thigh, and then pulls your panties down your legs. He stands, gets his own pants off, and when he bends you over the altar and stuffs his cock inside of you, you realize that sex was never the issue at all.

Peter was.

“Beautiful girl,” Klaus murmurs. “You’ve got no idea the power you have.” He grabs your hand as he puts his weight on your back, using the altar to to support you while he fucks into you with slow thrusts. You think he’s just going to hold your hand, but instead he bites into it, takes his own offering while he claims your body. He feels so fucking good, stretching you out. Going slow, tender. You never imagined someone like Klaus would fuck you like he actually has a soul.

When you cum around his cock, you keep your eyes open, locked on the cross in front of you at the back of the room in the center of the wall.

“Klaus,” you call out like a prayer.

────

You walk into the forest with Peter, his friends trailing behind you - and you wish you hadn’t come. When he showed up at your place a few hours ago, your father and mother all but shoved you out the door with him. You don’t understand how or why they’re still pushing you into his arms, but you know they just want to get rid of you. It hurts. 

Their laughter echoes off the trees. They’re all drunk, except for you, and it’s insufferable. Peter keeps pulling on your wrist, trying to grab your hand, and eventually you won’t be able to fight him off.

His hand isn’t Klaus’. And you wish you weren’t such a pushover - wish you stood your ground and never let your parents tell you, a grown woman, what to do and with whom.  You don't want to be here. Not with Peter, and not close to the area where you walk through the forest to see Klaus. You don’t want those memories, the only thing positive in your life, tainted by Peter. 

You zone out, breathing in to try to calm down. If you just get through whatever campfire they want to go to, then you can go home. The air is thick with the smell of pine and earth, and for a moment, it almost feels peaceful. But then, Peter’s voice cuts through the calm, teasing.

Mean. 

“You really went to that church again this Sunday? This is a far walk from home,” he says, his tone dripping with mockery. The others chuckle, and you feel your face heat up. He’s not asking because he cares. He’as asking to make fun of you.

You bite your lip, trying to ignore them. You’ve heard it before, the constant jabs, but it still stings every time.

“I don’t see what’s so funny,” you reply, your voice a little sharper than you intended. You don't know where it comes from, when you’re shaking from being so bold. “It’s important to me.” You want to scarem that he's the reason you have to go, but you refrain. Because these days - he’s not. Not anymore. 

You hate him so fucking much. 

You should just run back home, but the only thing stopping you is the fact that Peter’s holding the only flashlight. You should have brought your own. 

Peter snorts. “Yeah, I get it. You want to be cleansed. You’re all about that holy stuff,” he mutters, and then one of his friends chimes in. “Weren’t so holy when you let Peter pop your cherry though, were you? 

His friends laugh again, and you can feel the heat rise in your face, but you try to hold it together. You don’t want to give them the satisfaction of watching you cry.

You say nothing. Peter tries to wrap an arm around your shoulders, but you’re seething so hard you pull out of his grip. Stupid, maybe, because in retaliation, he shoves you, just a little too hard. 

Your feet slip on the uneven ground, and you lose your balance. It’s a rough part of the woods, and you twist your ankle. The world tilts as you fall back, your hands shooting out to catch yourself, but there’s nothing to stop you. You hit the dirt, your head on a rock, with a sickening thud, the breath knocked out of you.

For a moment, everything is still. Your heart races, panic spreading in your chest. Peter doesn’t move, just watches, face unreadable.

His friends are silent now, their laughter gone, replaced with something else. Something you can't quite read.

You slowly push yourself up, your hands shaking, dusting off your knees. But even as you rise, the hurt from the fall doesn’t compare to the sinking feeling in your stomach. This is more than just a push. You can’t stand up. You can’t move. Everything feels hazy, and then you hear the urgent voices of his friends. You’re not sure how you missed it before, but now, it’s undeniable. Something’s wrong. 

And then everything goes black.

────

You wake up on the hard, cold ground of the forest. Your head is aching something fierce - you’ve never experienced this level of pain before. The minute your eyes are fully open, you let out a cry, laying your head back down on the dirty grass underneath your body. 

“Fuck,” you mutter, covering your eyes with your arm. You breathe in, coughing immediately. You sit up with another cry, your body stiff and heavy feeling, every nerve on edge. 

That’s when you realize the smoke. There’s a fire at a distance, that much you can tell. You smell the charred odor, along with something earthy - but the scariest smell is the smell of something metallic. Sour. 

It’s blood. Coherent enough to look around now, you notice that even in the dark, it’s clear that wherever you’re lying is a crime scene. There’s blood everywhere - but strangely enough, not a lot on your clothes. You know you should stand, but you can’t bring yourself to. The air is too thick, too choking, and your head and your limbs just feel too heavy and  -

“You’re up. Fantastic,” you hear, along with the crunching of leaves that tells you someone is walking towards you. You know that voice anywhere, but you’re not sure why it’s here. 

Klaus. 

The last thing you remember is Peter, and his friends, and walking into the forest together for that stupid bonfire. So how are you here, with Klaus right now? How - what?

Klaus crouches down next to you. 

“There’s enough blood here for a baptization,” he says, voice a little too cheery for this eerie situation. You ignore him, even as he touches the back of your head, like he’s checking something. 

That’s when you realize - the back of your head is covered in blood, hair matted against your sclap. No wonder you’ve got a headache, but even scarier - with this much blood loss, how are you even awake? 

“What? Klaus, I,” he cuts you off. “You’ll feel better once you eat something, little sinner.” He stands up and walks away from you, and you watch him, heart beating too loud and too fast in your chest. You could gag at the smell around you, and your head pounds at every step Klaus takes. Why is it so fucking loud? Why are you feeling so much?

What happened?

Klaus returns with a bloody paper bag. You don’t understand. “What’s going on? Why are you here? Where’s Peter?” But you don’t finish again. Klaus shoves the bag at you, and you open it, a cream threatening to escape your throat when you see what's inside. 

“Now,” Klaus starts, crouching back down. “I would never force you to do anything, but in a few hours, you're going to be feeling worse than you’ve ever felt in your entire life. Hunger, like you’ve never known. I would suggest, love, that you take a bite out of the heart, just to keep your appetite at bay while we find you some clean clothes,” the immediate reaction in your body is to hurl. 

You want to throw the paper bag with a heart inside of it, but instead your own beats faster. It's like your veins throb, your stomach growls, so hungry for this organ that you can barely contain it. What the fuck is happening to you? And why is Klaus so calm? 

“Klaus, explain, please,” you look at him, noticing only now that he’s entirely drenched in blood. Up to his elbows almost, so thick it looks like he’s wearing gloves. Your head spins, making you dizzy, and you stand up because you don’t know what else to do. 

Klaus looks at you like you’re crazy. “That’s a heart. You’ve never seen one before?” As if you've seen an actual heart outside of a body before. You lean your back against a tree, your own heart about to leap out of your chest at the disgust you now feel for yourself - because that heart - why does it smell so good?

“Why?” you manage to get out, and Klaus actually laughs. He’s having fun, you realize. This is the first time in all you’ve known him, that Klaus is actually fucking smiling. 

“That suitor of yours. He pushed you, although I do wonder what you were doing in the woods with him and the others, without your necklace on,” you want to tell him that you keep your necklace somewhere safe, as to not draw suspicion from people in town. But he just keeps talking, on a high that only death can give him, apparently. 

“I tried at first to get him to cut his heart out of his own chest, but as you know - people don’t like to be forced to do things. Even him. So I did it for him. Kind of me, I know.”

Peter is dead. Klaus found you in the forest with him and he killed Peter and the others. 

But more than that - you can’t breathe. Can’t think. Klaus takes a step closer to you and places a bloody hand on your shoulder. You’re full on crying now. 

“Don’t cry,” Klaus says, as if that helps. “He deserved it. Think about what happened. What you last remember. After we were intimate, before you left - I fed you my blood to heal the wound on your hand,” and you remember that. So why does Klaus sound…desperate for you to understand? 

But then everything comes back, and it only takes a second for it to all come together. 

Peter - he pushed you. You had Klaus' blood in your system , and all the vampire facts he told you after you found out he was a hybrid came flooding back. Peter -

He killed you. You must’ve hit your head when you tumbled down the hill. And because Klaus’ blood was in your body you -

You turned. You're a -

“No,” you shout, pushing past Klaus. The fear in your body is enough to push past the pain and stand up. “I can’t be this. I’m going to hell, Klaus.” You've never felt an emotion this devastating. This is horrible. You’ve experienced self hatred before, but nothing quite like this. You have an eternity to accept this disgusting, disgusting truth. 

Klaus actually looks offended. But he doesn’t get it. How could he? You’ve been trying to be someone new, but the beliefs that have been drilled into your head since you were a child are strong. And you’re scared. 

You drop to your knees and plop on your ass, holding your legs to your chest. Klaus comes to you, but not to comfort you. To twist the knife deeper. 

“Look around,” he says, voice loud. You don't want to. To see what - blood, smoke? “You’re already in hell. Your father let that man around you. He told you to come to me. You don’t think he knew what I’d do to you?”

You don’t understand what he’s saying. Your father - ?

“He was hoping I’d kill you. Don’t you see?” You don’t know what to say to that. But it’s all clicking, and you’re going to be sick. Your father sent you here to die. It makes sense why he was surprised every time you came home. You cry even harder, body shaking with sobs. 

“But don’t worry. I took care of it. You’re holy now, you understand?. Safe. Untouchable.” You look in the direction of the smoke and realize it’s coming from your town. Did he - burn the town down? And maybe supernatural sense are even crazier than you thought, because you focus on the scent of char and pinpoint that the scent is coming off of Klaus’ fingertips. 

He grabs the paper bag and sits beside you. You shift away from him. This is too much. You can tell he’s upset by your reaction, but what did he expect? He moves closer to you. “Leave your faith and follow me, and I’ll show you things the Bible never taught you.” But he still drops something on your lap.

It’s your old cross necklace. All bloody. He must’ve got it from Peter. It’s a thought you’ll have to go back to later, to understand - Klaus, giving you back a piece of yourself. Even one he doesn’t agree with.

“I’m going to hell,” you repeat, frozen. You’re looking forward, unsure if you’re even blinking. You can’t process this. You will never, ever get over this. 

Klaus waits a moment, before he opens the bag and hands you the heart. It looks smaller than you imagined, but softer. The smell is so vile it’s good and your stomach rumbles. 

“Welcome to the club, little sinner,” he says, and without looking at him, you grab the heart and bite into it. 

Klaus grabs your free hand and gives it a squeeze.

[downbad4sylus]

“This mark is different”

(part 3 to “I killed you”)

synopsis: You and Sylus return to the base from the field of flowers where he shows you his horns.

content: NSFW; 18+ MDNI; smut with some plot; sylus x afab!reader; reader is MC; use of Y/N; soft!sylus; virgin!sylus (i am of the opinion that sylus wouldn’t so much as breathe near another woman who isn’t MC); virgin!reader; kissing; oral (fem receiving); p in v; soft sex; slightly rough sex; no protection (wrap it up kids); multiple orgasms; idk if this counts as monster fucking but sylus has horns and a tail; mostly proofread

word count: ~3.5k

tags: @travelerth; @midiplier; @satansdaughter123; @bookfreakk

a/n: massive thank you once again to everyone who’s read, liked, and reblogged parts 1 and 2, i genuinely can’t express how happy it makes me that so many of you have enjoyed these little stories :’) anywaayyy, in honor of the new banner and all the new spicy content (bless our game developer overlords) here is part 3 where things between you and Sylus get a little spiicccyyyy

Okay, so when Sylus asked if you wanted to go back to the base and see his horns, you might have taken him a little too literally.

What you thought was him innocently taking you to his bedroom—warning the twins on your way that he still didn’t want to be bothered—turned out to be far from that.

Which was how you found yourself currently pinned beneath him on his bed, tongues tangling and lungs screaming for air, no horns in sight. Or tail. Or wings.

You lightly pounded a fist against his chest. “Sylus…I need…to breathe…”

Sylus was loath to part from you, but did so regardless, taking the opportunity to marvel at the sight of you before him. Flushed cheeks, swollen lips, chest heaving. You were beautiful, perfect, and his.

“Do you want to stop?” he asked, making sure he had your consent before he continued.

You bit your lip, and he nearly lost control then and there. How many times did he have to tell you to stop doing that?

“How far are we going?” you asked softly.

“As far as you want, sweetie,” Sylus assured. “I won’t do anything you don’t want me to.”

“I, um, haven’t really done anything before,” you confessed, turning your face away so you didn’t have to look at him.

Sure, you had a few boyfriends throughout the years but you’d never had more than a heated makeout session, it was usually the reason why those relationships ended. You weren’t a prude or anything, you were just saving yourself for when someone really special came along. Or maybe you’d unknowingly been waiting for Sylus to come along.

Sylus pinched your chin and forced your eyes back to his. “Me neither.”

Your eyes nearly popped out of your head. “Really?”

He nodded. “I’d never give myself to anyone but you.” He released your chin in favor of dragging a finger down your neck before wrapping his hand around it, careful not to choke you. “I do, however, have a very good memory.”

Your heart thundered in your chest. You wanted him. You needed him. And most importantly, you trusted him.

“Okay,” you breathed.

“Okay what, sweetie? I need you to tell me exactly what you want,” Sylus said, his thumb rubbing soothingly along the length of your neck.

“I want you, Sylus, all of you,” you said. “I want you to make me feel good.”

“Oh, Y/N, I’ll do so much better than that.”

He released your neck, trailing his large hand over your chest and down your stomach until his fingers teased the hem of your shirt.

“May I?” he asked.

You nodded. “But I get to take off yours next.”

Sylus chuckled. “Are you trying to make a deal with me right now?”

You nodded again, smiling. “For every one thing you strip off of me, I get to strip something off of you.”

His ruby-red eyes sparkled. “And those are your terms?”

“Those are my terms.”

“Then it’s a deal.”

You eagerly sat up and held your arms above your head. Sylus huffed, clearly amused by your enthusiasm, and gripped the bottom of your shirt in both his hands. In one smooth motion, he removed it, tossing it aside as his gaze roved hungrily over your now-bare skin.

When you reached for his shirt, intent on running your hands all over his delicious abs, you suddenly found yourself back against the mattress, wrists pinned to the pillows.

You blinked to find Sylus hovering above you sporting a positively wicked smile.

“Sylus! What are you doing?” you exclaimed, fighting to free your wrists.

He cocked his head. “You never said when you got to rid me of my clothes,” he drawled in that infuriatingly smug tone of his. “You need to be more specific when setting your terms, sweetie.”

Your mouth popped open. This was what you got for trying to make a deal with the King of Deals himself.

“Now, let’s get rid of this next,” he mused, trailing his fingertips along the underwire of your bra.

“How are you—“

Black-red mist enveloped your bra, tickling the skin underneath. It took only a moment for Sylus’s Evol to make quick work of it, the undergarment reduced to black and red specks of dust, leaving your upper half fully exposed.

Sylus’s pupils dilated as his hand gently cupped your breast, and you whimpered when his thumb brushed over your nipple.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, rolling your nipple between his thumb and forefinger. “And all mine.”

He was barely touching you yet your core had already gone molten and was beginning to throb with need. You needed more of him, his hands, his lips, his tongue, his co—

A jolt of pleasure shot straight to your core, tearing a loud moan from your lips as Sylus closed his own over your neglected nipple. He continued, tongue laving and teeth biting until he switched to your other breast, giving it an equal amount of attention.

You were panting by the time he lifted his head with a quiet smack of his lips.

But Sylus was far from finished.

He kissed his way up to your neck, where he licked and sucked at your sensitive skin. You wanted to touch him, thread your fingers through his hair but he still had your wrists pinned firmly above your head with seemingly no intention of releasing them.

You cried out, your back arching as Sylus sunk his teeth into your neck.

“This mark is different,” he breathed, lapping his tongue over it to soothe the sting. “This time, I want to count how many times I can make you come before it fades.”

“Fuck Sy,” you groaned.

He trailed down again until he reached the waistband of your pants. He looked at you, one brow raised, silently asking for your consent. You nodded, straining against his hold on your wrists, desperate to bury your hands in his hair.

You nearly cried with relief when he finally removed his hand, only to have your wrists bound by his Evol instead.

“Sylus,” you whined.

He chuckled. “Be a good girl and let me have my fun first,” he said. “You’re the one who asked me to make you feel good.”

“Then stop teasing me already!”

“Mmm, very well.”

Sylus yanked off your pants, leaving you in just your underwear, which were soaked through by this point. He made quick work taking them off as well, groaning at the sight of you finally naked before him.

“So, so beautiful,” he murmured reverently as he reached out, brushing his thumb over your clit. Your hips bucked at the contact, and it was all the reaction Sylus needed before descending on you like a man starved.

Spreading your legs wide, Sylus licked your slick entrance, moaning at the taste of you on his tongue. Your back bowed off the bed, crying out in pleasure as he focused his efforts on your throbbing clit. He slung an arm across your waist and pushed you back down, keeping you locked in place, unable to escape the pleasure he was so eager to give you.

His unoccupied hand ghosted along your inner thigh, growing closer and closer to where his mouth was, until he reached your entrance and slipped a finger inside.

You moaned. “Please Sy,” you begged him. “Please let me touch you.”

Without parting from your core, Sylus’s Evol dissipated from your wrists, freeing you at last. Your hands immediately went to his head, burying your fingers in his hair.

Release tingled down your spine, the tension poised to snap. When Sylus added a second finger he nearly undid you then and there.

You grip his hair harder, moving your hips as much as his iron grip would allow, riding his face.

“Sylus,” you panted. “Sylus I’m gonna—ah.”

“Go ahead, sweetie,” Sylus said gruffly. “Come for me.”

And you did, the tension exploding as you came all over his mouth and fingers. He continued to lick and suck, his fingers pumping in and out while you rode out your high, stopping only when your body went limp beneath him.

“That’s one,” Sylus said proudly, straightening as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

You stared at the slick covering his fingers, transfixed by the way it shined in the light. Sylus noticed.

“Want a taste for yourself?” he asked.

Heat flooded your cheeks but when your eyes met his, you nodded.

“Open,” he commanded. You obeyed and Sylus slid his fingers inside your mouth. When you closed your lips around them he said, “Now suck.”

You couldn’t feel any embarrassment you were so turned on, tasting yourself as you licked and sucked Sylus’s fingers clean.

“Good girl,” Sylus purred as his withdrew his fingers. “Would you like to uphold your end of our deal now?”

You pounced on him, almost knocking you both off the bed. You tore at Sylus’s shirt, bunching it up over his torso before ripping it off his head. Without stopping to admire his physique, you rose on your knees, positioned on either side of his legs, and unbuckled his belt. The bulge in his pants made your mouth water and you wanted nothing more than to wrap your hands around his cock and wring as much pleasure out from him as he did you.

“Lift your hips,” you told Sylus.

He raised them, his chest heaving with anticipation as he watched you. You hurriedly popped the button and pulled the zipper down, then with all your might, grabbed the waistband of his pants and underwear and yanked.

Sylus’s hard cock slapped against his abdomen and you nearly abandoned undressing him at the sight of it. He was long and thick, precum leaking from his slit and onto his stomach. You wanted to touch it, taste it, feel it inside of you.

“Don’t stop now, kitten,” Sylus encouraged, his voice breathless. “You can’t leave my pants like this.”

You blinked, realizing you’d be staring at his cock, hands still gripped tight on his pants, which were only halfway down his thighs. You mumbled an apology and managed to finish stripping him, tossing his clothes aside onto the floor somewhere.

Sylus groaned as your hand wrapped around the base of his cock. “Kitten,” he panted. You dragged your hand up his length, gathering the precum at the tip before running it back down. “Hah—ah, that feels so good.”

But Sylus grabbed your wrist, stopping you.

You pouted. “I want to make you feel good too.”

He smirked. “You can do that some other time, right now, I need to be inside you.”

Sylus sat up, putting you at eye level.

Your breath caught. He was so beautiful, with his sharp, chiseled features, but what really took your breath away was the look in his eyes. He looked at you like you held his entire world in your hands. Like you were the only light shining in a life otherwise shrouded in darkness. You loved this man, and it was so heart achingly clear he loved you too.

Sylus cupped your cheek and ran his thumb over your bottom lip. “You’re sure you want to do this?”

“I’ve never been so sure about anything before,” you answered him with a smile. “I love you, Sylus.”

He smiled too, a real smile, not anything like his smug ones. “I love you too, Y/N.”

He kissed you, lips pressing softly on yours. It was slow and unhurried, like you had all the time in the world to just enjoy each other. Even when your tongues met, you didn’t rush, Sylus gently pushing you down onto the mattress.

He drew back when his cock teased your entrance. “I’m going to go slow, okay? If it hurts or you need me to stop, just let me know.”

Your hands flew up to his face. “Sylus wait.”

He didn’t move a muscle.

“You said I could see your horns.”

Sylus faltered. “Sweetie, I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

You shook your head. “No, I want to see them, Sy, and your wings and tail. I said I wanted all of you and I meant all of you.”

Sylus’s heart thundered in his chest, unsure whether to give in to your demands. He was sure if he protested further, he’d be able to convince you to drop it for now. In truth, though, he was nervous. Yes you had remembered your past together but you’d never seen him in his dragon form in this life. The last thing he wanted to do was scare you. He’d never recover if you saw him as the monster he truly was, you were the only one who loved him despite that very fact.

“Sylus.”

Hearing his own name tore him from his thoughts, his gaze fixing on your face.

“I love you now just as much as I did then, dragon and all,” you said firmly. “Please, I want you to be able to be yourself with me.”

Sylus hung his head and sighed, resigning to your demands. “Fine, but no wings, they’re too big for the bed.”

“Okay, I can live with that.”

Sylus huffed and brought his lips back to yours. As you kissed, black-red mist swirled at the top of Sylus’s head and at the base of his spine, revealing his scaled, black horns and tail.

He held his breath as he parted from you, bracing himself for your reaction. But when you opened your eyes, they were not filled with fear. They were filled with awe.

You lifted a hand and brushed the bottom of one of Sylus’s horns. He shivered at your touch, his tail swishing back and forth behind him.

“Are they sensitive?” you asked, ghosting your fingers up the length.

“Yes,” Sylus breathed.

You hummed thoughtfully as you angled your head, peering at his tail, then looking back at him. “You really are beautiful, Sy.”

He swallowed against the lump in his throat, moved far more than he could ever express with words that you found him beautiful, even like this.

“May I continue now?” he asked, deflecting with his usual arrogance.

You laughed and wrapped your arms around his neck. “Please.”

Sylus almost lost his self control at the relief that flooded through him. His cock was throbbing so hard it was painful, and the only way he could soothe it was to be buried deep inside your cunt.

Tail thrashing wildly, Sylus repositioned the head of his cock at your entrance, somehow even more soaked now than before. Coating himself first, he then began pushing past your folds.

You inhaled sharply at the burn as your walls stretched to accommodate his size.

“Relax, my love,” Sylus soothed, one hand trailing down toward your core. He gently circled your clit, encouraging your body to relax.

You whimpered, clenching around the head of his cock, desperate for him to fill you more despite the pain.

Taking his time, Sylus rocked his hips slowly, easing into you inch by inch all while rubbing your clit to keep you loose. By the time he bottomed out, the pain you’d felt had been long replaced by the pure pleasure of being filled with his cock.

Sylus trembled with the restraint it took to not start pounding into you, wanting your first time to be more loving and tender. There was plenty of time to take you hard and rough.

“I’m going to move now, okay?” he warned, breathing heavily.

“Yes, please,” you begged, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He groaned and rocked his hips until just his tip was left inside you, before sliding back in. You both moaned as Sylus began thrusting in earnest, his pace slow and steady.

“You feel so good, Y/N,” Sylus panted. “Just like I remember.”

You were unable to respond, too consumed by the way he moved inside you, his cock hitting you in all the right places.

As though it had a mind of its own, Sylus’s tail snaked around one of your legs, keeping it locked to his waist.

Tension building already, your nails dug into Sylus’s back as each thrust brought you closer and closer to the edge. Sylus could fell your walls fluttering around his cock, and while he wanted nothing more than to lose himself right along with you, he was determined to rip as many orgasms out of you as he could.

He picked up the pace slightly and you responded in kind, tightening your grip on him as you cried out.

“Sylus, oh fuck, don’t stop, please please please don’t stop.”

He chuckled. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He captured your lips in an impassioned kiss, sweeping his tongue into your mouth as you moaned. One hand cupped a breast, his fingers teasing your nipple before moving on the other.

His touch, his kiss, his cock, it was all too much.

Your back arched as you came, waves of pleasure washing over your body again and again with seemingly no end. Sylus kept moving through it, pausing when you finally slumped into the bed.

“That’s two, but we’re not finished yet, kitten,” Sylus growled.

You hardly registered his words before he was flipping you onto your stomach, a shocked oof breezing past your parted lips. He dragged your hips up so your ass was in the air, sliding his cock back into your cunt with ease. His tail slid along your ribs, then across your breasts, the hard scales rubbing on your sensitive nipples, and it pulled you flush to Sylus’s chest. On instinct, you reached back and grabbed onto both of his horns. The groan he let out was purely animalistic.

“You better hold on tight,” he whispered in your ear, the only warning you got before his cock started slamming into you.

You moaned at the delicious new angle, your body already working toward another orgasm. Admittedly, you’d been a bit nervous that Sylus was relying solely on memory from another lifetime in order to please you, and truly you would’ve been happy with whatever he’d be able to give you. But this? This was not at all what you expected.

“I won’t last much longer, kitten,” Sylus warned, his thrusts growing sloppy, “and I fully intend on bringing you with me.”

His hand slid down your abdomen, two fingers finding your clit and rubbing in quick, tight circles.

Your cunt clenched hard around his cock as you pulled on his horns, your mouth popping open in a silent cry. Sylus groaned, doubling his efforts both with his cock and his fingers.

“Sylus!” you yelled, body tensing. “Sylus, oh please.”

“Give me one more, Y/N,” he muttered. “Be a good girl and give me one more.”

Your climax slammed into you, your vision going white as the pleasure rocked your body harder than the last two. It drove Sylus straight off the cliff edge, chasing his high right alongside you, filling your cunt to the brim.

When you were both spent, Sylus collapsed on top of you, but you were too fucked out of your mind to care about his weight crushing you.

He didn’t linger on you too long though, rolling over onto his side, taking you with him as his tail was still wound around your breasts. He peppered kisses on your neck and shoulder, making you smile.

You twisted in his hold to face him, placing a chaste kiss of your own right on his lips. “I love you, Sy,” you murmured.

“I love you too, sweetie,” he replied quietly.

“Does this mean you’re my boyfriend now?” you asked, the picture of innocence.

Sylus scoffed. “I was under the impression I was much more than just your boyfriend.”

“You are, but I can’t introduce you to people as my soul-bound lover,” you protested. “We need a socially acceptable label, Sy.”

“You want to introduce me to all your little Hunter friends?”

“Yeah, as my small-business-owner-slash-fruit-stall-vendor boyfriend, Skye!”

He gave you an incredulous look, as if he couldn’t believe you were having this conversation right now. But, he’d never deny you anything. “Fine, I’ll be your boyfriend as long as you get to be my girlfriend.”

“You have to ask me first.”

He blinked. “What?”

“You have to ask me to be your girlfriend first.”

Sylus pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed. “Y/N, my love, will you do me the honor of being my girlfriend?”

You grinned and smacked your lips against his. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Little did you know that Sylus had much bigger plans in mind than you being just his girlfriend. Fiancé was good, but wife was even better. You know, for the sake of socially acceptable labels, of course.

[jsbluu]

left on seen - a park jisung smau

you, a first year college student at ncit university, "stumble" upon the twitter account of your campus crush, park jisung. you've had a crush on him since your junior year of high school, but he always seemed to have a flock of girls (one girl) chasing after him.

out of a boost of confidence (and maybe a little too much to drink), you decide to send him a dm. what's the worst that could happen? he has thousands of followers, it's not like he's ever gonna see it.. right?

wrong! will jisung reply to you and fall in love? or will you just become another girl lost in his dms. read to find out!

disclaimer: none of the characters in this smau depict the idol's real personalities. everything you see is completely fictional!

➨ pairing: park jisung x fem!reader

➨ posting schedule: wednesdays & saturdays at 5pm cst

➨ status: ongoing!

➨ genre: failed humor, suggestive innuendos, underage drinking, cursing, slowburn, “strangers” to friends to lovers, ANGST, sewerside jokes, an evil woman trying to come between them, jealous jisung, jealous y/n, for the sake of the story everybody is the same age, mentions of side effects from hangovers including nausea (absolutely NOTHING explicit as i do have emetophobia), random mentions of characters that are not technically introduced, SO much miscommunication it’s actually crazy, may or may not be a smut scene in this eventually..

➨ taglist: closed

➨ a/n: this smau was heavily inspired by "score that goal" by @/lqfiles! score that goal was the first smau i ever read and i immediately fell in love. thank you for inspiring me to make my own! i'd also like to thank by bestie/loml for helping me create this entire thing, from the title down to the plot itself, i lub you >_<

y/n's friend group | jisung's friend group | honourable mentions

chapter 1: party time!

chapter 2: 13 reasons why

chapter 3: it’s so jover :(

chapter 4: new friends!

chapter 5: first day of class

chapter 6: study buddies (not!)

chapter 7: awkward silence

chapter 8: rem

chapter 9: alley oop

chapter 10: shared pages

chapter 11: three’s a crowd

chapter 12: jisung’s tweet

chapter 13: yes or no?

chapter 14: she said yes!

chapter 15: two to one (to two)

chapter 16: the aftermath

chapter 17: blooming confusion

chapter 18: yikes!

chapter 19: damage control

chapter 20: plan a

chapter 21: a long overdue apology

chapter 22: it worked!

chapter 23: jisung is STUPID (ft s’mores and mark)

chapter 24: he’s a directioner?!

chapter 25: a little TOO friendly

chapter 26: the bet

chapter 27: party time pt.2!

chapter 28: mistletoe by justin bieber

chapter 29: go with the flow

chapter 30: they’re onto me..

chapter 31: please invest in a diary

chapter 32: IDGAF!

chapter 33: get that d!

chapter 34: y/nsung official date

chapter 35: hallway couple

chapter 36: step back

chapter 37: ..did he fumble?

chapter 38: plot twist

chapter 39: stinky flowers and tears

chapter 40: mission: confrontation

chapter 41: the showdown

chapter 42: message received !

end

© jsbluu | please do not copy, reupload, or translate my work.

[humans-are-seriously-weird]

Hey all things have been wild and i havent been on a lot

I wanted to make this post to raise some awareness for the chronic illness Ive recently been diagnosed with, in the hopes that someone suffering something similar feels less alone.

Around Christmas i started getting very very sick. I would throw up 5-6hrs of the day, and it kept me from eating or sleeping at all. For four months straight i cycled between ER rooms and hospital admissions. Ive lost over 100lbs since Christmas due to a complete inability to keep any food or water down. After dozens of tests, I finally have been diagnosed with Cyclical Vomiting Syndrome.

Its a brutal disease. Essentially it’s a stress induced illness where the autonomic nervous system that controls the stomach becomes out of sync. When my body becomes too stressed, I start getting sick. And when I am out of the stress, my stomach and abdomen dont get the memo that we are okay now. It continues to have its own mini anxiety attack, contracting and twisting and forcing me to throw up everything I have inside, and keeps going after with dry heaving. This is called an abdominal migraine, and let me tell you, it is so much worse than it sounds. Once you are in an episode, it is difficult to get out of. Once the body is stressed, the sickness stresses it more, which makes me sicker. It is a vicious cycle.

I lost my job to this disease because I missed two full months. I collapsed at work and had to be rushed to the hospital. The worst part of this disease is that it is so uncommon most hospitals dont know how to treat it. Ive been labeled a drug seeker at every hospital within 10km of my home because of how frequently I had to go to the ER, severely dehydrated and in such pain I could barely stand. I started refusing strong pain meds in favour of antispasmodics instead. ER docs and nurses blamed cannabis and told me that was my sole issue. It wasnt, though it does exacerbate the illness. Ive since stopped smoking, even though it brought me some relief, just to be taken seriously.

I am one of the lucky ones who got diagnosed quickly. Most people take years to get a diagnosis, and I got mine within 4months, though it is only because of how severe my illness was.

I am finally getting proper treatment that gives me some quality of life. I have a new job that is very understanding of how many days Ive had to take off due to flare ups and episodes. Im doing well now, but for awhile, i truly thought this disease was going to take my life. I wrote a will. I picked out a grave plot.

This isnt a sympathy post. CVS is often misdiagnosed as chronic appendicitis or GERD. The odds of someone following me who also has this disease is high, and I want to make sure they dont feel as alone and unheard in this as I have.

There is no cure for CVS, you can only try to manage it and lengthen the time between episodes. The hardest part is everyone constantly saying “but youve been doing so well”. I may be doing well now, but tomorrow is not guaranteed, the next hour is not guaranteed. My episodes come quickly and with little warning, and triggers can only be found through trial and error. I still miss a lot of work, I still wake up in the night dry heaving. If i miss a single dose of medication, i relapse. It is a brutal road, and I have been fortunate that I have a supportive partner and friends who have walked it with me.

If this sounds like you, you are not alone. Find a doctor who will listen to you, and trust your instincts. Advocate for yourself, and accept nothing less. Once, when an ER refused to see me, despite the fact that I passed out on the threshold, I started just screaming. I absolutely screamed my head off as if i had been shot. That got their attention, and they said they would treat me just to shut me up. Make a scene. It sucks that that is what I had to resort to, but they finally agreed to do an ultrasound and CT scan. It started me on the path of getting a proper diagnosis. Advocate for yourself loudly and without reserve. And if you cant, find someone who can on your behalf. When i was flitting in and out of consciousness, my partner advocated for me, and refused to let them discharge me until they got the vomiting under control, even just for a day. Be loud, be annoying, do whatever it takes.

You are not alone.

[cainetarot]

PICK A CARD: ★ JULY PREDICTIONS ★

⚠️MY READINGS ARE EXTREMELY ACCURATE, TAKE IT WELL AS IT RESONATES, MY BLOG CHANNEL DO NOT SUPPORT SUGARCOATING STRICTLY ⚠️

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 1

Wow, too much goin on ya'll.

Before even shuffling ur damn cards i got the song "Run baby run" like whaaaaaaa!? 😳

Lately, something has disappointed u, an exhausting, back stabbing, maybe a betrayal? A draining cycle has FINALLY hit rock bottom.

In July, ya'll be stepping up into a new journey, a new cycle 🔥

SURVIVAL MODE IS OVER..u are closing or have closed a major karmic cycle 💫 Chapter is over, especially one where u were stuck in survival mode.

Things start moving fast this month ya'll. But with that speed, u gotta face truth bombs ⚡️

NOW IK WHY U GOT THAT SONG!

Ya'll can get stalked badly ngl, U could get an offer or opportunity or MONEY YEAHHHHHAHAH 🌝

Someone might play mind games or act selfishly, especially someone who’s insecure about ur ABSOLUTE glow up 😏🔥

If someone is shady around u, U'LL KNOW!

ik its hard, ik it's exhausting but trust me, once u'll focus on urself and ur glow up, nothing...I REPEAT NOTHING CAN STOP U! ⚡️

Don’t entertain drama.

Ur entering your boss era.

What's next in ur love life? FOR EXTENDED/PERSONAL PAID READINGS DM ME STARTING FROM JUST 2.99$

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 2

Why u so stubborn dawg?

WHAT the fuck are u holding on to?? lemme see..🤨

U thought July would be chill? Nah. This month is a plot twist..A convo or argument gives u a shocking clarity..

All ur doubts, fears, and overthinking are trapping ur fire. ARE U AWARE? Ur also clutching onto something too tightly ...money, pride, control, or ur emotions ❤️‍🔥

Something u were clinging to shatters, maybe a toxic connection, false hope, delulu, or a fear based goal.... IT BREAKS ⛓️‍💥

Expect a rude awakening, BUT GUESS WHAT?

The moment u release, the Wheel turns ☸️

U may say “I can’t do this anymore” and ghost a job, project, or person. A new person enters with fiery energy..maybe a flirt or idea partner.⚡

New timelines open. New luck, new paths, and sudden breakthroughs come ur way once u walk out of that emotional PRISON.

Best advice for u? FOR EXTENDED/PERSONAL PAID READINGS DM ME STARTING FROM JUST 2.99$

𝐏𝐈𝐋𝐄 3

HOLY SHI..

STRAIGHT UP main character energy.

July brings love, leadership, fame potential, and a chance to COMPLETELY rewrite ur destiny 😭🌟

Either u gonna be meeting ur equal, or u and someone u already know are stepping into an aligned, powerful match!! 💘

This isn't just a situationship. It’s either a deep soulmate/twin flame awakening 🔥

ya'll could be meeting someone at an event, party, gathering, or even manifesting a relationship u thought was LOST.

Cards show drama, competition. Don’t ENGAGE.

Expect a surprise invite to a celebration/event/home. A karmic ex or hater tries to stir drama 🐾

Something that was “stuck” for months starts flowing again, Also ya'll can get compliments on ur looks, leadership, and voice✨

July is UR divine alignment month.

But who's that soulmate? FOR EXTENDED/PERSONAL PAID READINGS DM ME STARTING FROM JUST 2.99$

Make sure to follow me, and DM for paid personal/extended readings

🪐 EXTREME ACCURATE READINGS

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FOR UPCOMING TAROT SUGGESTIONS, LOVE READING SUGGESTIONS AND ANY QUERIES DM ME.

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Subscribe and follow my blog channel CAINE TAROT, AND PLACE ORDER NOW!

#tarotreadings #lovetarot #pickapile #cainetarot

[singleactionjack]

Just some MH theory shit but

(MH WILDS SPOILERS)

Anybody feeling like the Dragontorch is probably an even bigger monster that we haven't been fully privy to? Like, it feels like a reasonable approach to handle the lore and plot that has been built up so far. Hear me out. I'm calling this the Wyrm Mother theory

So on the one hand, we have Zoh Shia (and the black dragons in the greater MH lore). Zoh seems to be an artificial black dragon made by Wyveria as a tool of war/protection? I feel a lot of fans have looked at Zoh as both a canonization of the Equal Dragon Weapon from the old MH concept art book as well as implicit justification of Fatalis' role in the series.

Fatalis' in some flavor text is said to hate humanity, showing a level of intelligence and hostility to humans unseen in other monsters. It's nature and local is as shrouded as the ancient civilization that has been lost to time. It's such a dangerous creature that killing it doesn't kill it; that crafting gear from it risks you turning into one, or weapons continuing to grow and regenerate.

Something a lot of us have thought is that the ancient civilization lore from the art books is why Fatalis seems to hate humanity; that they committed acts of atrocity on monsterkind. The scrapped lore seemed to suggest mankind slaughtered countless dragons to build their towers into the heavens. The EDW being an idea of them even turning corpses of dragons into living weapons that they had control over.

Fast forward to Modern Day, Zoh Shia (and the other guardians) seem to be a clear reimagining of these concepts. Guardians are sterile, artificial monsters that exist to protect Wyveria, even long after Wyveria fell. A textual affront to nature, creatures with no reproduction systems and underdeveloped organs who exist as tools for mankind. Monster Hunter as a series has strayed from high fantasy since its beginning, and the idea that a powerful dragon would be disgusted by affronts to nature like that seems like a reasonable justification. Especially Zoh Shia.

Zoh Shia seems to be even more of an affront that the other guardians. Where the others appear to be flat recreations of preexisting monsters, Zoh seems to be a contained amalgamation of the anatomy and abilities of several black dragons. It visually has moves from SafiJiva, Alatreon, Shara Ishvalda and Gaismagorm. But it also has directly ripped abilities from all 3 known Fatalis subspecies, having Fatalis' fire breath, Crimson Fatalis' leaping lava, and White Fatalis' dragon lighting. It seems to be a sort of Swiss army elder that imitates Fatalis, even sharing similar body parts (like eyes). They say that Wyveria fell, not from the impending threat of war, but from their own creation.

BUT

On the other hand, all of the guardians and Zoh Shia are connected by one factor. A factor that seems to reach throughout the entire region.

Wyvern Milk ( or Wylk) is present in some form throughout basically the entire gameworld. Springing up and crystalizing in places all over. In the end of the low rank story, you find out that the Dragontorch, this source of seemingly endless energy, rests beneath Wyveria, and it feeds energy (and wylk) throughout the entire region. Their cycle of seasons, thriving ecosystems, all of it, are all directly fueled by the Dragontorch.

Why does that matter? I'm convinced we may be in store for an even bigger threat in Wyveria.

Recently I saw someone on YouTube point out the oddness of the titles you unlock from beating 20 Zoh Shia:

Specifically, it unlocks Savior, Promise, and Innocent. While Savior makes sense with what we have so far (possibly being the Savior of Wyveria by design), Promise and Innocent seem strange. Promise to who? And innocence, how? The story so far seems to suggest Zoh Shia was syphoning off energy from the Dragontorch, which was negatively effecting the lands around. How is that innocent?

My first thought is...when else is it natural to drink the milk? When you are an innocent child drinking from your mother.

I looked at the games Logo, and noticed some potential symbolism:

The logo shows 6 dragons, four in circles on the side, but two wrapped around each other in the middle. Notably, one is white and solid, while the other is sort of hollow and drawn with only outlines, with its mouth closed. All are connected with solid white to the two center dragons.

I think that the four side dragons represent the cycles of the four main biomes, Desert, Jungle, Tundra, and Volcano, with their circles of life reflected in wrapping circular dragons. Drawing something (I think Wylk) from the dragons at the center. But the two dragons in the center I think are more important.

I think they represent the guardians (and more specifically Zoh Shia) and the Dragontorch. The all white dragon, mouth open, reflects the guardians, specifically Zoh and Arkveld, intertwined with Wylk but opening their mouths to return to what nature intended (To eat for Arkveld, to bellow it's flame for Zoh, and to behave as monsters do for the rest of the guardians).

In contrast, the hollow dragon facing downward represents the Dragontorch, pointed deep below the land. It's essence milked dry into the nearby lands, leaving it empty. But this begs another question: why would it be depicted as a dragon?

I think the game may be building up to a reveal that the Dragontorch is the true atrocity that led to Wyveria's destruction, to Fatalis' hatred of humanity. I think the Dragontorch may be an actual dragon, likely an elder dragon (or black dragon of its own), that was somehow confined by the ancient civilization and syphoned off of to create the infrastructure and resources that Wyveria used to grow in power.

The true reimagining of the ancient civilization concepts, whose entire land rests and thrives on the exploitation of an elder dragon, guarded by facsimiles of nature, destined to destroy themselves in hubris. This is where Zoh Shia comes in again.

The game says Zoh was Wyveria's secret weapon in case of war, but that it brought them to the brink of destruction. And after this calamity, it nestled itself into the Dragontorch to "syphon" energy, leading to chaos in the present. But perhaps that's not what it's doing? What if it's not malicious?

What if, in the Wylk, in this lifeblood, it (along side other guardians) Zoh Shia was being given it's agency back? Just as Arkveld gained it's predation back, and as all other guardians seem to fight each other if through instinct? What if Zoh was given it's agency and it fought back against Wyveria?

Or even more compelling, what if it brought the kingdom down to protect something? What if, this "promise" was to protect the Dragontorch?

I think the team making it Wyvern "Milk" and not essence or blood is intentional. Maybe, upon it's creation, as an artificial black dragon, unstable and chaotic, it was steeped in Wylk, and became aware? A beast now seeing itself be used by mankind, sure, but also seeing how they use the Dragontorch as well. And it fights back, returning to the Dragontorch.

I think perhaps Zoh wasn't drawing power away from the Dragontorch, but instead was consolidating it's power, keeping it present and concentrated. Perhaps the Dragontorch isn't endless, perhaps it is like Fatalis, able to regenerate slowly over time. And Zoh doing what it did prevented the Forbidden Lands from draining the Dragontorch completely.

Maybe that's Zoh's "promise". And its innocence is like any other's; trying to protect its mother. A mother powerful enough to power an entire nation, it resting on her back, but not powerful enough to free herself from bondage. It brought down a kingdom in its hubris, returned to the Dragontorch.

In the same way Arkveld was an extinct species, brought back to life as a puppet who cut their own strings, removed their own chains.

Zoh Shia was a black dragon, made in the image of mankind's devils. Then, it was coddled, fed on mother's milk, dressed in white. It went to stop those hurting its mother, and when done?

It returned, nestled in Wylk. Cradled in it's mother's arms, promising to protect it from mankind. Devil no more, mommy's little angel draped in white wings.

[little-miss-dilf-lover]

⋆ ˚｡𖦹. rough makeup sex w/ BENJAMIN POINDEXTER 18+ fem!reader, 1.7k words. mdni !! WARNINGS. porn with a bit of plot, dex being possessive? roughness (titty slapping and light manhandling) pinv, unprotected sex. based on this request <3

⎯ ☆ ⎯

Very rarely would you keep Dex out of the loop. 

Without fault, you would send him little texts to keep him up to date with your wellbeing while you were apart. He has a tendency to worry, so those small messages were a way of reassuring him that you were in fact okay and that nothing had happened to you. 

It may seem controlling, but it didn’t feel that way in the slightest. In your mind, it was like you were acknowledging his illness by showing him you understand, doing what was asked of you in ways he needed to help him cope. 

Though today, you failed. You were being harsh on yourself to even think that, but it’s true. You overran at work today and your phone died, the charger you keep in your bag seeming to be lost on your public commute to work.

You knew you messed up, and you were dreading coming home. It's not like you were scared or frightened, more that you couldn’t stomach looking Dex in the face having disappointed him, or rather that you couldn’t bear to see the state of the apartment following the breakdown you knew he had.

You stick your key into the hole and tentatively push the front door open, almost immediately spotting Dex sitting on the floor against the sofa — head in his hands, the box of tapes on the coffee table.

The light behind you in the corridor catches his attention and his eyes flicker up to you in the gap of the door. Like you were metaphorically and literally shining a light on Dex, being his light. 

Your heart tugs at the sight and you close the door behind yourself, getting closer to Dex as he does you. You meet in the middle, somewhere near the dining table. 

“I’m so sorry, honey,” you utter. “Really, I’m so so sorry.” 

“Where were you?” Dex asks, tone short. 

It was like he was shutting you out for the time being, unable to give you anything soft considering you just betrayed him. 

“Every two hours, you know this. What if something happened to you?” he diverts from your eyes and shakes his head. “You’re supposed to text, why didn’t you?”

You follow the movement of his eyes, desperate to keep him looking at you so his mind doesn’t stray too far.

“I know,” you nod at him. “My phone died before I got a chance to tell you. Ben, really,” you slip your hands into his and give them a squeeze. “I am so sorry.”

“Where’s the charger I gave you?” 

“I think someone stole it from my bag this morning.”

He pauses for a moment, threatening to ask the question he’s been pondering for these last few hours by himself.

“Were you with someone?” he questions, voice sounding accusatory. 

You’d admit, that stung. That stung a lot. It hurt for him to even think that, but you knew it wasn't entirely his thought. So you shake your head at him and bite back that bit of hurt so as not to escalate things.

“No,” you lift your hands with his still entwined and bring them to your lips, pressing a kiss besides his dry-crusted bloodied knuckles. “And you know that.”

That was also true. Deep down he knew that too, just at surface level he was so filled with anger and betrayal and disappointment that it clouded any aspect of sense. He was so concentrated on the intensity of his feelings that everything else came secondary. 

His eyes cast down ever so slightly to the soft, gentle act at hand, rather literally. He watches the repetitive string of kisses being seared into his hand — intently observing the kindness in the way you try to reassure him. His gaze flickers to yours and back down to your lips, the movement ever so subtle. But you caught on.

He slips his hands from yours and slides them either side of your neck, thumbs resting on the shell of your ears as he brings you into him, making you meet his lips. At first it’s gentle, delicate, like he was afraid that it wasn’t actually you standing there — that he was making it up. But when your own hands find him in a way similar to his, the doubt trickles from his mind. He can really feel you. He can feel your hands encompass his back, fingers spread wide either side of his spine.

And with that small act of touch making your presence known, it grows deeper, lips moving over the other as if time was of the essence. He tilts your head back and slips his tongue into your mouth, the kiss becoming sloppy, hungry and desperate. He walks you back clumsily, pushing you up against the wall as he begins to grab at your clothing — hastily ripping your work wear from you. 

You mirror him, urgent hands sliding downwards to curl under the hem of his tee, fidgeting fingers skimming him in turn as you yank the fabric up his back, urgent to get him out of it. He breaks the kiss briefly to help you help him out of his top, though he reconnects the moment he deems possible.

One by one, your garments fall to the floor, clothing pooling around your feet until nothing but underwear remains. He moves his hands to cup under each of your breasts and gives them both a firm squeeze through your bra, movement rough like it was a physical testament as to how he feels inside. Moving a hand from your tits, he grabs the base of your throat, thumb one side, rest of his fingers on the other as he gives it a small pulse. He watches that keen look form in your eye, the glimmer that follows the manhandling act.

He directs you away from the wall and into his bedroom — walking you backwards with his hand still firm to your throat, lips yet to leave yours. The backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed and you subsequently fall, dropping to your ass at the foot of his bed. Dex remains upright, albeit towering over you now. 

Slowly, he lowers to your level, bending at the knee as he slots himself between your spread ones. His hands follow suit and now reside on the uppers of your thighs, fingers beginning to knead and paw as if he couldn’t quite help himself. He itches his body closer, tented cock behind his pants becoming all the more noticeable as it bumps up against your cunt. 

And while the divots forming in your skin around his fingers was tempting, the view of your tits sitting in your bra was all the more enticing. He scoops his hands into your bra and brings out either breast, simply letting each hang and rest over the undergarment — the sight quite a favourite of his. 

He closes the gap and latches onto one of your tits, hungry lips moving over your nipple as he suckles and slurps and slobbers, desperate flicking tongue accompanying the motion behind his lips. Though the other breast goes without the attention of his mouth, he uses a firm hand to satiate the loneliness: squeezing and slapping, reddening the skin more and more with each passing moment. The grabs and yanks all proof of his undeniably high drive.

You gasp at the dual sensation and curl your chest forwards, pushing yourself into Dex’s face even more. You cup the back of his head, arms wrapping tight around his shoulders as your hips begin to jolt — cunt subtly grinding against his chubbed up cock. Dex groans into your breast before he pulls away, but he can’t help but look down, look at the mess he made of your tit: nipple peaked and hard, surrounding skin sheening with his saliva. 

But the ache and twitch in his dick diverts his attention from the lewd sight, and so he makes great haste unbuckling the belt of his pants — metal clicking and clanking with the fast, urgent pace.

He shoves his bottoms and boxers down in the same motion and lets the fabric encompass his knees on the floor. He then gives his dick a few pumps while you mimic a similar movement — tugging your underwear aside, hooking the edging over the mound of your pussy. Dex quickly brings the hand around his cock up to his mouth and spits in the palm, lubing up his dick. 

You scooch your hips forward and then lie back, resting on elbows behind you. Dex smears the spit over his cock and guides himself closer, head knocking up against your cunt clumsily as he finds your entrance. Lifting one of his legs out from under himself, he bends it, his weight now more evenly distributed between his knee and foot — preemptively getting ahead of the support that will drive his thrusts.

He grips your hip with his free hand and guides you in to meet the slow entry of his cock, the full length of him sinking deep inside, the low groan emitting from his chest following suit. Without much warning or time to refamiliarise yourself with him, he begins rolling into you, grasp still tight on your hip as pulls you in for each of his increasingly faster thrusts. 

Once a deep, structured pattern forms he’s moving his hands to other parts of your body, this time, one holding the centre gore of your bra between each tit, the other back around the base of your throat — holding and manipulating your body to better match the motion of his fucking.

“You can’t leave me,” Dex utters, voice hoarse between each pant. His eyes cast down to watch the bobbing of your body beneath him before they flicker up to your face, elongating the moment of eye contact before yours squeeze closed. 

While it sounded sinister, it was anything but. Instead it was coming from a place of vulnerability, like he was voicing his concerns as he knew you’d understand them. 

You wrap your hands around his wrist in front of your face, holding the thickness of his forearm sternly as if it was a way of solidifying what you were about to say, rather, blissfully murmur. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

⎯ ☆ ⎯

[rafesyangel]

Late nights with butcher!Rafe ⋆˚࿔

Rafe never saw taking care of you as a problem to him, it was a responsibility his possession You were his little baby, and babies don’t get to make decisions

“You know you can always come visit me,” he’d say with that low, voice, arms crossed over his bloody butcher’s apron. But what he really meant was I don’t want you anywhere else.

“Come on, you’re leaving soon can’t I enjoy you while I still have you?” he’d mutter, jaw clenched, he already knew you weren’t going back to college. He had no intention of letting you out of his grip again. The moment you stepped a foot into his job Rafe had been plotting on you

since he was just a stupid, angry teen tall and brooding, standing behind the counter with blood on his hands, watching you pass his shop like an angel You didn’t even know you belonged to him back then. But he knew that well

Now you started showing up more, fluttering in with soft excuses, asking for small cuts of meat you didn’t know how to cook. He saw right through you

“Back again, baby?” he’d tease from behind the counter 6’4, broad and huge arms folded, that smile of his too sharp. “You think I don’t notice when you're watching me?”

His eyes never left you. Even when his knife was chopping the mean apart ,even when he turned to talk to customers he felt when your gaze was on him. He could feel your presence the way a predator feels a pray

You thought you were being clever, cute glancing at him like no one would notice But Rafe? He would catch you every time and he would ignore it for the sake of leaving you thinking you outsmarted him

He knew you were already trained for him ,you just didn’t know it yet

“You don’t think it’s a little bit late for a beautiful lady like you to be out?” Rafe’s deep voice rolled out as he locked up his shop, peeling off his stained apron,It was 1:30 in the morning, the streets dead quiet except for you and him

You had lost track of time Again, You always did when he spoke to you that way like your brain had been rewired just to listen to him, to please him, to obey without even realizing

“N-No… I’m sorry, I wi..will leave now,” you stammered, standing up too fast, panic flickering in your chest. Your phone had died long ago, your last money spent on a morning coffee you didn’t even finish. And now… now you realized you were trapped.

“Leave?” Rafe tilted his head, his voice colder. “What kind of man lets a girl go home alone this late?”
Before you could speak, his heavy hand slid to your lower back firm, controlling. “Get in.”
There was no room for debate. No opening to say no. He was already guiding you to his truck l

You mumbled something about an Uber. That you could walk. Anything. But he wasn’t listeninghe never listened when he knew what was best for you.

The passenger door of his truck swung open. He lifted you in like you were helpless, reached across to buckle your seatbelt for you, and gave your head a gentle, pat.

“Good girl,” he said lowly, before slamming the door shut.

He moved fast around the truck, into the driver’s seat, engine coming alive.

His hand never really left you. One stayed heavy on your thigh, he would squeeze the skin on your thighs,thumb brushing the hem of your skirt sometimes moved to tuck your hair behind your ear, stroke your jaw,

The cold night air drifted in through the cracked window, but his warmth was overpowering. He hummed quietly to an old song playing on the radio, something nostalgic in the silence of the road. You sat frozen beside him, small and doll-like, wrapped in his presence,

However you may not know it yet but he already decided where you'd go

“Rafe..this is not..” you suddenly gained consciousness, this is the road to your home , he was taking you somewhere else

Somewhere far

“Relax doll” he held your hand in a reassuring grip

“We are going to my house pup”

[krossan]

A Brief AU Explanation

I noticed that there are a lot of new followers that do know Danny Phantom, and others that the know very little. I am also aware that I haven't fully explained - maybe NOT in too much detail - the "story" and plots of my AU. You only have the ideas that I've been telling of this story through illustrations.

This AU is all about reconnecting with one self, with Jazz and Dan as the main two of this particular game.

Jazz remains as the same character that is portrayed through the OG show. She has always been the psychology enthusiast of the group, the one that cares for others and help with whatever she can. For her, others come first. First being her family.

On the other hand, we have Dan, an alternate entity of Danny’s ghost half and Vlad’s. A new form of entity that lost his humanity. For him to show any form of emotion is null.

Jazz involvement in this has to do with her putting everyone else first and then herself, and being keen to the study of the human-psyche, and now ghost-psyche, she secretly partakes to the role of Dan’s therapist. This was kept in secret from the rest of her friends and Danny until she can gain more control over Dan.

This, of course, prove to be a VERY difficult task. With her having to hide her constant fears when facing that “particular someone”: he could go on a rampage, have uncontrollable outbursts, cause havoc, and that he could turn against her any day/time without any remorse. She knows this, but she also knows that deep down, her little brother is still there. She’s looking to rekindle that part of him again. Of course, never knowing at what extent this could go.

And this, apparently started to bear fruit, although at a slow pace. As Jazz stood closer and closer to him, she understood that he stayed alone his entire life, and after losing everyone he cared, his violent actions were his significance of showing the world "hurting". The hurt he have been caring so many years. Now he has that second chance. To “live” a new life and Jazz wants to help him out.

With this new information, each time Jazz got close to him, Dan, instead of seeing her as an obnoxious-human-parasite, he slowly starts bonding with her. His interest increasing each day he is with her and grows more comfortable being around her (something Dan originally despised).

***

Part of this AU, enrolls on a particular context that the ghost of a halfa is sentient. The original show as proven this*. When Danny’s ghost has been separated, his ghost has a mind of his own, but when staying together, human-ghost, the consciousness of the halfa acts as one. *Episodes in question: What You Want, Identity Crisis, The Ultimate Enemy

This part that the ghost plays on the known halfas is a mayor plot point from this AU. Let me explain my concept briefly:

This roll that the ghost is part of the halfa is the one that caries the power of the wielder (human). The human can transform into the ghost and vice versa. The ghost powers remain within the ghost half. The human half acts as a vessel/host to the ghost half.

All living things have the instinct of survival. And on this case, the ghosts would do ANYTHING to keep their host safe as they are the means of a linked connection human-ghost. Not unlike the rest of non-halfa- ghosts that their link/host relies on the Ghost Zone -since they no longer have a corporeal body, the vessel for their survival is ectoplasmic energy, the one that emanates from the GZ.

***

Since Dan is no longer connected to a human, he became a full-ghost. An entity that merged from two ghost halfas. He can sustain himself alone, but strangely enough, he building a bond with Jazz, it rekindled what Jazz intended, but in an unusual way. Jazz intention was to try and reconnect Dan with his long-lost humanity. Even if he didn’t have a human half, both his ghosts may have some little information stored deep within of what that used to feel like. And even though that started to give results, the ghost also retained that of his original purpose: Protect the host.

And as the bond Dan and Jazz grew more and more, unknown to them, it caused a physical manifestation: a white streak formed in Jazz’s hair. And even if this came up as a surprise to Jazz, she later discovered that this manifestation was much more than just physical.

Dan rekindled his humanity but he, unknowingly, intertwined Jasmine’s humanity to his. Her humanity is part of him. Jasmine’s emotions have an impact on him. Whatever she feels, he can sense it, let them be good or bad ones.

They both are this new form of halfa, both human and ghost are separate life forms, but from the ghost side -Dan’s perspective- Jazz is acting as his human half. His host. That’s is why his instincts respond to protect her at all costs.

No. This new form of a halfa representation doesn't mean Jazz has ghost powers. The one with that power is Dan. This bond is more of a psychic link.

 (i.e. In European folklore, you “could” say Dan is Jasmine’s "familiar", although Jazz is not considered to be a witch, but imagine the possibilities of this small plot causing people or ghosts to think Jazz is a witch… idk… random ideas)

This is why Dan is more sympathetic towards Jazz and why their bond is very important.

______________

It's worth pointing out that I don't have a specific name for this AU, like many people do when they create these stories. And NO. Please refrain from saying this is a romantic relationship. It is a sibling/platonic relationship.

[anyaeras]

Hi Anya ☺️

I just discovered you with your latest fic

I don’t know if the requests are still open but if they are, I would like to request a fic about Dark Agatha Harkness x fem reader where reader introduces herself to her new neighbour and the first person she knows is Agatha so Reader invites her in before realising Agatha is more than she appears

Say "you're mine" || A.Harkness

Paring: Dom!Agatha Harkness x Sub!Afab reader

Summery: request, your neighbor may or may not have had a small crush on you, and took it into her own hands to make you hers.

Warnings: SMUT! AFAB reader,, they/them pronouns ,, age!gap,, manipulation,, mind!games ,, drink!spiking,, kidnapping,, magic mind controlling ,, light mommy!kink, pet!names, strap!on,, cunnilingus ,, rope ,, dirty!talk,, praising,, degrading (light) ,, smut with light plot.

Masterlist ,, @anyaeras all platforms

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Moving into Westview wasn't the ideal plan. Originally, y/n wanted to stay in the city. They loved it, but due to a job offer, they had decided to temporarily move into the small town known as Westview. Y/n didn't have high expectations, not knowing truly anyone in the area. Y/n had been spending most of their time alone at home until recently.

The house y/n left was home to known other than a nosy woman named Agatha. Every now and then, their dark-haired woman next door would catch y/n checking their mail or even just being outside and saw her opportunity. And truly, y/n enjoyed the small chats. It gave her some socialization.

Yet, nothing was changing. Agatha chose to try and take a risk today.

"Y/n, dear, why don't you come in for a drink?" Agatha offered with what seemed to be nothing but an innocent smile. The thoughts in Agatha's mind were nothing but that, yet y/n wouldn't have had a clue.

Shyly, y/n agreed. Truly, they'd had missed being a social butterfly. Living in Westview had been nothing but lonely for the younger one.

"Thank you," y/n said softly, stepping into Agatha’s nice home, smiling as she took in the surroundings. Sitting down at Agatha's counter, sipping in a warm mug that was told to them to be just tea, the conversation was flowing well, getting to know one another until suddenly y/n was feeling a bit dizzy.

“Aww, sweetheart, I'm sorry it had to go this way," was the last thing y/n would hear before falling into a slumber.

Darkness was all y/n saw, slowly blinking their eyes open.

"Tsk tsk tsk, finally, you're awake. Did you sleep well?" Agatha's deep voice came echoing. The world was making y/n shiver, confused as they struggled to recall what and how this all happened.

“Sorry, sweetheart, it wasn't supposed to go this way; but I wasn't sure there wouldn't be anyone else," Agatha's voice spoke as now she came closer, kneeling down to y/n, her hand coming to cup the younger one's face.

"W-why are we in here, Agatha? I'm confused?" Y/n was stunned, looking around. She didn't understand why she was now in what seemed like a basement. It was dark, and the only thing near was Agatha.

"Don't you get it? You're a smart girl. I'm sure you could grasp that I wasn't going to let anyone else have you? I've had my eye on you for a while, darlin’. Finally, I can say you're mine." Agatha rattled on, explaining as Y/n was just getting more and more lost.

"W-what? No? Agatha, I need to go home. I have work. This is crazy?" Y/n tried to plead with Agatha, but it seemed to be useless.

"No. You'll stay here!" Agatha hissed out, a bit annoyed that Y/n wasn't wanting this too.

"THE HELL I WILL? LET ME GO, AGATHA?" Y/n rose her voice, yet what she didn't expect was for Agatha to send a smack across her face. Anya's would come from Y/n as she cupped her own face with tears in her eyes.

"I'm sorry, did that hurt, sweetheart? I didn't mean to, but I don't want you to be a brat. You’re my good girl, right?" Agatha's voice was soft, almost condescending.

"I-it hurt," was all Y/n managed. She was upset and didn't know how to react as suddenly Agatha pulled the younger neighbor into her lap, holding her close.

"Mommy is so sorry, but this is for you. You’re to learn." Agatha spoke, rubbing comforting circles on Y/n’s back, all while rocking her softly, which was just upsetting her more because she didn't know what Agatha really wanted now.

Agatha kept hushing Y/n until her cries suddenly stopped.

“Now, if you can be a good girl, we can go upstairs? Can you do that for me, because Mommy wants to play?" The words from Agatha sent a shiver down Y/n’s spine, yet she nodded. Something inside her wanted Agatha to keep speaking like this. Something clicked as Agatha seemed to be taking control of the situation, lifting Y/n up, before helping her upstairs.

They were not in Westview. This house was nice, but it was away from any town. Y/n noticed this by just getting a glimpse of the window.

"Where are we?" Y/n tried, yet was shushed again by the older, dark-haired woman.

"Stop asking so many questions, you're thinking to much sweetheart, that's my job" Agatha's words cause y/n to shut up and let Agatha keep leading her into a room that at first look could be a bedroom but the more one looked around it seemed to be laced with items such as tie ups and more adult toys then anything else.

"Princess, lay down for me huh? Mommy wants to play and you've made me wait so so long?" The women's words were clearly nothing close to the innocent cup of tea y/n originally thought she would be getting. Now she was to deep in and truly was falling for Agathas magic games.

Laying back as if she didn't know the words no, giving in y/n gave herself to Agatha, feeling as Agatha's hands ran up and down the sides of their body, slowly stripping them down to their bra and panties. Suddenly a silk rope was felt around y/n wrist tying them together infront of their body, and the younger now more so submissive one was dragged to hang half way off the bed.

"Mommy wants to taste you?" Agatha smirked using her index finger to link into y/n's panties and dragging them off. "Mmm, sweet honey, you smell divine," Agatha purred, inhaling deeply as she admired y/n's exposed flesh. She leaned in, her lips brushing against the tender skin of y/n's inner thigh, sending shivers through the young woman's body.

With a wicked grin, Agatha's tongue darted out, tracing the curve of y/n's hip before delving between her legs. Their submissive one breath hitched as Agatha's mouth found its mark, lapping at her sensitive folds with increasing enthusiasm.

"Oh, yes... You taste even better than I imagined," Agatha murmured against y/n's slick heat, her fingers gently parting the plump lips to grant herself better access.

As Agatha continued to feast on y/n's eager flesh, her free hand roamed the younger woman's body, mapping every curve and contour with greedy intent. Fingers danced over the swell of breasts, teasing the hardened nipples through the thin fabric of y/n's bra.

"Mmm, such responsive little buds," Agatha cooed, giving a particularly sensitive peak a firm pinch. Y/n's gasped, arching into the touch as pleasure-pain sparked through her nerves.

Agatha chuckled low in her throat, the vibrations sending tingles straight to y/n's core. "You're going to make such a delightful pet, darling," she whispered, her hot breath washing over y/n's throbbing clit. "So sweet, so willing..."

With a deft flick of her tongue, Agatha sent y/n careening over the edge into blissful release.

Y/n's back arched off the bed as waves of ecstasy crashed over her, her cries echoing through the room. She trembled and quaked, lost in the overwhelming sensations Agatha evoked from their body. Y/n's mind went hazy, consumed by the intense pleasure radiating from their core.

As the aftershocks slowly subsided, leaving her limp and panting, y/n's eyes fluttered open to meet Agatha's knowing gaze. A deep flush colored her cheeks, and she felt vulnerable, exposed under the witch's piercing stare.

"I-I shouldn't give in to you" y/n mumbled as if they didn't just cum all over, yet they still tried to fight knowing Agatha would enjoy breaking them until they gave in that they were hers.

Agatha smiled, a predatory glint in her eyes as she watched y/n struggle with their conflicting desires. "Oh, but you already have, sweetheart," she purred, trailing a finger along y/n's damp slit, gathering the evidence of her surrender. "And you'll give in again, and again, because you can't resist the pleasure I offer." Agatha's words went straight to y/n's mind, reminding her of her place keeping her under her every command.

She leaned in, capturing y/n's lips in a searing kiss, her tongue delving deep to claim every inch of the younger woman's mouth. Agatha's hands roamed freely now, cupping and squeezing y/n's breasts, rolling the nipples between her fingers until they ached.

Breaking the kiss, Agatha sat back, her chest heaving with excitement. "Now, let's see how loud you can scream when I fuck you, hmm?"

Agatha smirked at Anya's distress, enjoying the sight of the younger woman struggling against the restraints. "Oh, don't worry, my dear. It may be larger than what you're used to, but trust me, it will fit perfectly inside you."

She slid the harness over her hips, the thick strap nestling comfortably against her pelvis. With a wicked gleam in her eye, Agatha positioned herself between y/n's spread thighs, the tip of the strap pressing insistently against their entrance.

"You've been so good for me hmm?, taking everything I've given you so far," Agatha purred, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "Now it's time for you to take something even bigger."

Without further warning, Agatha thrust forward, the massive strap plunging deep into y/n's unwilling body.

Agatha groaned in satisfaction as the thick strap sank into y/n's tight heat, stretching her walls to their limits. The younger woman's screams echoed through the room, music to Agatha's ears.

"That's it, scream for me," Agatha commanded, setting a brutal pace, each thrust driving the strap deeper. "Let everyone know who owns this pretty cunt now."

She reached down, her fingers finding y/n's clit, rubbing mercilessly in time with her ruthless strokes. "Come on, baby, say you're mine, give into me and maybe I'll let you cum."

Y/n would moan loudly starting to find herself needing to cum again yet trying to be good for this women she was holding back.

"G-gotta cum please I need to" y/n begged and panted out taking the deep fucking to the best they truly could.

"Admit your mine, you can cum when you say you're mine" Agatha bit out as her trust never faltered watching y/n start to sob from the need they felt. Their h/c hair was sticking to their face they looked such a mess but to Agatha they were stunning.

"Go on baby say it, say your mommy's" Agatha hissed finally break y/n's last bit of self control.

"I'm yours I'm yours Agatha all yours please let me Cum please" y/n sobbed out struggling as their legs shook.

Agatha's triumphant laugh filled the room as y/n finally broke, surrendering completely to her dominance. "That's right, you're mine now," she purred, redoubling her efforts, the strap pistoning in and out of y/n's desperate hole.

The younger ones words, begging for release, only spurred Agatha on. She could feel y/n's inner muscles clenching, rippling around the invading strap as they teetered on the brink.

"Now, cum for me, you filthy slut!" Agatha demanded, her own arousal building to a fever pitch. "Paint these sheets with your juices while you scream my name!"

With a final, brutal thrust, Agatha sent y/n hurtling over the edge into a shattering climax, the strap stirring up a frenzy within them as they came undone.

Y/n sobbed out over their orgasm before finally collapsing, y/n was panting and a mess after everything.

"All yours" y/n mumbled out they were spent after everything and their body now craving the softer Agatha she knew deep down

Agatha withdrew the strap with a satisfied grunt, watching as it slipped free of y/n's abused passage with a wet squelch. She tossed it aside carelessly, her attention turning to the exhausted, trembling form sprawled before her.

"Well, well, looks like someone needs a cuddle," Agatha drawled, crawling onto the bed to gather y/n close. She stroked the younger one's sweat-dampened hair, tucking it behind her ear with a tender touch that belied the brutality of moments ago.

"There, there, it's okay, baby. I'm here now," Agatha cooed, her voice softening as she cradled y/n against her chest. "Just rest, let me take care of you."

Like that Agatha found herself her new pet, one that was willing to be hers even in the most untraditional ways, and it healed a part of the witch deep down.

Y/n quickly drifted off feeling safe and content just needing to rest for the time being in Agatha's embrace.

[achilleabee]

something about the bound and fable cast consistently having overall themes of grief and loss in the smp is so tragically interesting, particularly in the fact it's shown in different forms; not just in each character, but also the overall plot that drives the story forward.

fable smp's storyline basically... wouldn't exist if Fable knew how to grieve better. his fear of death, particularly with loved ones, being in his nature as the God of Creation displays how anticipatory grieving is incredibly destructive to not only the person experiencing it and the people around them, but also how time is experienced. When you are constantly worrying about the health of yourself and others, it takes away from the actual time you can spend with them, and any time spent not grieving/with them feels like a waste. this is shown in Fable's need for control over how time affects a person's life and health in destructive patterns, such as the resets. this then creates a domino effect where everyone else who experiences the resets grieve the loss of their lives, sometimes not even remembering what for, and using time that could be spent together attempting to delay tragedy. it's shown how when grief is managed together and can be used instead as motivation to push forward, the issue may be resolved (referencing how the final fight scene is one of the few moments where everyone, besides Fable, is on the same side and feel free enough to let out pent up emotions.)

skybound is similar, but completely different in form: 'This tragedy is inevitable, and currently, there is no possible way to stop it from slowly encroaching on our lives and taking everything away from us. the best we can do is work together.' The mere concept of falling islands without time to process what's happening or what to take with you has an inherent theme of loss, similar to the kind felt when a home is lost due to things like weather or fires. instead of the storyline following a character's lack of emotional processing, it follows a community sharing their grief and slowly learning how to deal with it, and finally letting it go. the islands all finally falling away are almost a direct symbol of the shadow of loss being taken off someone's shoulders and instead moving on to new beginnings.

starbound we don't know a whole lot for yet, but I feel like it might too. I mean, all of the characters have immediately lost their homes and previous lives. My prediction is that it might show grief in the form of regrowth? showing that while recovery isn't linear and will never be the same as before, it can happen when forged and constructed over time. such as how the ships they make will never be the same, but maybe they can learn to call new places home and emotionally adapt to their new lives <3 I can't wait to see how the story pans out

thank you for reading my long rant about how grief affects people in many different forms, I'm a psychology nerd and consistent themes shown in entirely new forms, especially when it's characters haunted by the narrative and some form of grief, are rotated in my brain. it's also helped a lot with personal issues, so thank you to the casts for not only having incredible individual character plots, but also having incredible thematic storylines that were written beautifully 🫶

[albondiguilla007]

Hinny recs (60k words and on)

✨ The Changeling / 182k / Ginny is sorted into Slytherin. It takes her seven years to figure out why.

✨ pick it up, pick it all up and start again / 69k / The thing about war is that it never ends. Not really. The battlefields just change locations. Harry and Ginny after the war.

✨ we can still be, who said we were / 124k / Navigating distances and finding your way back home. Harry and Ginny after the war. Second in the Armistice Series.

✨ in my head we do everything right / 210k / It’s not as easy as it sounds, going from hypotheticals to reality. Harry and Ginny navigate life after Hogwarts. Third in the Armistice Series.

✨ we can't control (watch me unfold) / 73k / It’s a simple arrangement. Between her grueling quidditch schedule and his mysterious auror duties, Ginny and Harry find time to have spectacular sex with no strings attached. It’s incredibly uncomplicated. Except when it isn’t.

(I ADORE THIS FIC. Ginny and Harry’s characterizations are so so SO good. Their chemistry is off charts, and the plot/government conspiracy had me ON MY TOES. Please read it.)

✨ An Hour of Wolves / 110k / Sirius is dead, but Harry's doing alright: between a brand new Quidditch Captaincy, private lessons with Dumbledore, and increasing suspicions about Draco Malfoy, he's got enough to keep him busy. And if an uncomfortable encounter with a classmate ends up leaving him with another challenge to face and even more secrets to keep, well...he's still fine.

Really. He is.

(Handles darker themes like eating disorders and sa, so be aware of that. Mental health is a big part of the story, even more so than the ship itself.)

✨ Noticing / 105k / Ginny suddenly realizes two things, in very quick succession: One, that Harry’s never really looked at her that closely before, and two, that he is absolutely, beyond a shadow of a doubt, doing that. Right now.

This is the story of how Harry comes to notice her... but more importantly, it's the story of how Ginny comes to notice that he noticed.

(An incredibly realistic and hilarious portrayal of teenage struggles, I laughed so much with this one.)

✨ Not From Others / 132k / She may not have been able to join Harry, Ron and Hermione, but Ginny refuses to go down without a fight. As war approaches, Ginny returns to Hogwarts to resurrect Dumbledore's Army and face the darkest year the wizarding world has ever seen.

✨ The Path From You / 142k / At 22, Ginny had lived through several lifetimes worth of misery. She'd been deceived, betrayed, and possessed, her very soul almost wrung out into nothing. She'd been subordinated, humiliated, and tortured, lived almost an entire year surrounded by enemies.

Fought Death Eaters and dementors and giant spiders. Been heartbroken, anguished, and grief stricken. Lost friends and mentors and a brother.

And through it all, she'd survived... because of luck, or sheer force of will.

Maybe a little of both.

If she could suffer and endure and prevail through all of that, she could live through some anonymous wanker plaguing her with badly written poetry.

(An amazing take on Ginny and her struggles post war. Waiting for the author to update 🙏🏻)