#original vampire fiction

[gorbalsvampire]

Clarimonde Explains It All

She’s not what I expected.

You say “elder vampire lady” to me and I’m picturing floor-length crimson ballgowns, nails and cheekbones you could cut yourself on, lips the only thing about her with any colour in it.

Clarimonde is five-five of boho chic; dress over jeans, big hat on the back of her chair, OG Doc Martens she's not been assed to lace up all the way. She does have long nails, but I’m pretty sure they’re fakes. There’s a tiny glass on the table in front of her, and it’s empty; can she keep it down?

She leans back to air-kiss Dominique, real old-school mwah-mwah lovely-to-see-you-babe; introduces herself in French, and smiles when I stutter my way through my je m’appelles and have to say in English, “but everyone except my mum calls me Tish.”

“Tish. My pleasure. So, why has Dominique brought you to see another old lady?”

Dominique glances at me — permission granted — and I explain there’s something I’m not getting from her and she thought hearing it in another voice would be good for me.

“I’ve lived a very boring life, my dear. Dominique has been around the world three times and left a trail of nonsense in her wake, what could I —“

“It’s the way you tell it,” says Dominique, rolling her eyes. “And of the two of us, who’s been on television?”

It’s Clarimonde’s turn to roll her eyes, and she does it with a little sniff that’s much more my idea of “elder vampire.”

“I was immortalised without my permission,” says Clarimonde. “You shouldn’t let poets lie to you, Tish; they tell you that you’ll live forever, they neglect to mention ‘as a petty pretty monster who leads innocent young men around by their dicks and away from God’. It could be worse; look what happened to poor Louis and his confessional. How many books of revision to his life story are there, now?”

“For real? The guy from —“

“Yes. The first at least is a true story. There’s a grain of truth at the bottom of all the stories. For instance; mine is truly the world’s oldest profession. I liked being called a ‘courtesan’, I wasn’t keen on ‘moll’, ‘whore’ has always been an insult…”

“What do you think of ‘sex worker’?” It’s out of my mouth before I know what I’m saying. Go for woke, I guess.

“Matter of fact, boring — but honest, which has its charms.” She smiles. “But — to stay on topic, because Dominique is making the face,” and she is, “let me forestall the inevitable question. Him too, and he was a piece of work.”

“The thing Clarimonde does so well,” Dominique explains from her end of the sofa, “is talk about men.”

“About a specific class of people,” says Clarimonde, and her pout looks like she wants to poke her tongue out of it. “Mostly men, who did awful things, frequently to women, and who happened to be like us. I’ve collected vampire stories ever since I was in one, and for the longest time they all had something in common. Take Dracula. Born in the fifteenth century. In the nineteenth, he re-emerges with a grand plan; he’ll move himself to what he’s been told is the greatest city on Earth and he’ll re-invent himself as a modern monster. What does he do when he gets there? Obsess over the first girl he gets his teeth into, and stalk his solicitor’s wife to punish the man for escaping, or whatever mad reason he had. Not just a monster but a failure. Why do you think that happens?”

“He’s got really poor impulse control?”

“And you said she didn’t get it.” Clarimonde laughs behind her hand, and for a second I can see her in costume-drama gear, peeking over a fan. “He’d been around too long. Once he’d been an empire-builder, and he remembered being that, but — did he really remember? Can the mind hold on to what it was five hundred years ago? Four hundred? When we cheat ourselves and say we were better people as little girls, from only ten or twenty years away?”

“I get it,” I say, practically talking over her. “I think. You’re saying he was trying to be who he thought he was, what history said he was. But really, he was… just a vampire.”

“And what a piece of work is a vampire?” she purrs, declaiming at her little glass. “Just a being who thirsts. A paragon of animals. Over time, we forget what else we were. Dominique brought you to me because I’m old. Because there are so few older. I’m a simple girl at heart; I take money and a little blood from people who have both to spare. It’s a simple rule, and it’s not a big plan, and it’s not much to hold on to.

“I keep my memories in stories. I don’t know if I’ve always looked this way, or if I saw that girl pretending to be me and made myself like her. Do you know Louis went back to his maker in the end? After everything he told, everything in that book, he went back on bended knee because he’d started to believe what was made up about him afterwards. He went back to a man he’d tried to kill and he thought he was in love. But he’s still alive, and he’s doing no harm to anyone but himself. And maybe one day I’ll wake up with a rosary in my hand and a pretty boy in my bed and I’ll hope to God he paid for it. That’s what happens when we live too long, Tish. We start believing what they say about us.”

One of the core impulses behind Bloodspell was "literary vampires are real but the version of their stories you get is off." Deconstructing the vampire as antagonist/romantic hero, y'know?

[heartiella]

[annabelle--cane]

I am aware I have died on this hill before but people who really strenuously argue that fanfic isn't "real writing" drive me insane. what do you meeeaaaaannn. besides the fact that any attempt to define "real art" vs "fake art" is inherently reactionary, it just doesn't make any sense. it's Writing. people Write it. what the fuck are you talking about.

[venusbyline]

i can fix them (but i kinda prefer them crazy lool)

[elijahstwink]

i also have the fantasy of fucking elijah in red door mode yooo 😳 ... but if you ever feel inspired and want to write smut abt it , Im interested in reading it ofc,, and there is also just so few red door elijah shit out there 💔

𝓛𝓮𝓽 𝓖𝓸

(I’d let him punch me holy this gif is hot)

Your boyfriend is going through a rough time. You help him feel better ;)

Thank you for the request anon! I always feel like writing dark!Elijah smut so this was so fun! It’s also the freakiest thing I’ve written lol. I hope you enjoy - Dex

Warnings: Blood play, Spitting, Choking, Slapping, Oral F!receiving, Dom!Elijah, Sub!reader, Elijah’s pretty mean, overstimulation, blood drinking, degradation, use of slut, whore etc

Seperate warning for this one. This has CNC! (Aka Reader consents for Elijah not to stop when she asks him too)

Your white dress billows behind you as you sprint down the hallway and towards the red door. Your bare feet burn at each step on ragged tile. You glance back to see Elijah turn the corner. His stone cold face and bare chest are covered in blood, all emotion void from his expression. Desperation fuels your speed, your legs burning and your lungs screaming as adrenaline courses through you. Elijah follows at a steady pace, his deliberate steps echoing, his breathing animalistic. He could catch you in an instant, but he prefers the thrill of the chase. He wants to savor your fear, your pain.

His footsteps are unnervingly close as you near the door. Just a little farther…

You slam into the red wood, pain shooting through your arm as you grasp the brass doorknob. It’s locked. You pound on the door, scream, and glance back in terror as Elijah approaches.

“Elijah, please!” you plead, but he keeps coming. This isn’t your Elijah, the kind and noble man you loved. This is a monster.

You turn back to the door, pounding and screaming for help, but it’s too late. Elijah’s hand clamps onto your upper arm, yanking you toward him. You struggle, but his grip is unbreakable. His eyes darken, veins pulsing as he opens his mouth, revealing sharp fangs glinting in the darkness.

Elijah jolts upright in bed, his body drenched in sweat and trembling. Nightmares of hurting you plague him every night since the incident with his mother. The red door haunts his mind, and he can no longer ignore it.

Breathing deeply, Elijah clutches his hair and turns to watch you sleep. Usually, this sight calms him, reminding him that he isn’t the blood-covered man in his dreams. That red door Elijah is just a fragment of himself, a dark fraction everyone has.

But tonight is different. The dreams are more vivid, leaving him feeling feral and dangerous. Every small sound or touch threatens to make him lose control. He needs blood.

Elijah carefully slips out of bed, pulling on grey sweatpants. He moves silently through the dark compound, descending the staircase to the large kitchen. He rounds the island, opens the blood fridge, and light floods the dark space. He grabs three blood bags and rips into one.

As the blood overtakes his senses, veins web below his eyes. He grips the marble countertop harder, ripping open the second bag, anger rising. The taste of blood makes red door Elijah creep to the surface.

“Lijah?” you call from the doorway, wrapped in a silk nightgown. Elijah’s head snaps up, his red eyes meeting yours as the marble edge crumbles in his hand. You rush to him, but before you can reach him, he grabs you by the neck, pinning you against the wall.

Despite his aggressive state, you’re not scared. You’ve been worried for him since he returned, his personality flipping randomly between normal and red door Elijah. The worst was on Bourbon Street, when he tried to rip out a man's heart for bumping into you. Red door Elijah is possessive, never letting you out of his sight, fearing that if you walk away, he’ll start chasing you like in his dreams.

Elijah's grip on your neck is firm but not painful, and you see the conflict in his eyes.

“Hey, it’s okay, my love,” you say softly, cupping his cheeks and tracing the veins with your fingertips until they fade.

Elijah’s eyes return to their regular onyx shade, guilt washing over him as he releases your neck and drops the empty blood bag.

“Shh, you’re alright, I’m alright,” you comfort him, wrapping your arms around him as he breathes heavily into the crook of your neck.

“I- I don’t know what to do, I crave you,” Elijah growls into your skin, his fangs gently scratching along your pulse point. Your eyes shut at the contact, but an idea pops into your head. A crazy, probably stupid idea... but an idea nonetheless.

“Perhaps you need to release all the pent up anger.” You suggest carefully. Elijah pulls away from your neck and stares at you in confusion.

“What do you mean?” He places his hands on the wall either side of your head, keeping you trapped against him. You can tell by the look in his eye that he definitely knows what you mean.

“I mean,” You rest your hand flat on Elijah’s bare chest, sliding it down to cup him over his sweatpants. “Let go, take it all out on me.” You gaze up at him innocently, something you know drives him nuts. Elijah swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing with the movement.

“No y/n. I wouldn’t be myself, I could hurt you.” Elijah shakes his head, already feeling his alternate personality taking control as his cock thickens under your touch.

“That’s the thing, you won’t hurt me. And as soon as you prove that to yourself, you can start to move past this.” You explain, slipping your hand under his waistband and taking hold of his erection, his length warm in you grasp.

You completely believe what you’re telling him. You know that he would never hurt you if not for pleasure, but that doesn’t stop you feeling like this may be a mistake. After all, Elijah is pretty dominant in bed already. If normal Elijah can edge you for hours or make you cum so much you’re begging for him to stop. Who knows what red door Elijah will do.

“Do you kn-“ Elijah interrupts himself with a deep groan as you push his pants to his feet and bring your unoccupied hand down to play with his balls, rolling them between your fingers. You can’t tear your gaze from his swollen cock and the bead of arousal gathering at the tip as wetness builds between your legs. You could mentally pat yourself on the back right now for not dropping to your knees and licking it up.

He suddenly grips your wrist, rough enough to leave a mark, making you gasp in surprise and release your hold on him. When you look up, you see that his eyes have returned to that crimson shade with veins underneath them. He grabs your neck with his free hand and leans down till your faces are inches apart.

“Do you know what you are asking for?” He breaths against your lips, tightening his hold when you nod. “Words.” He commands sternly.

“Yes, Elijah.” You squeak. He smirks at you, the veins flowing under his eyes.

“And you are aware that if you say stop, I won’t.” Elijah growls. You can tell he’s holding back, needing your consent before doing anything more.

“I know. I want you…” You murmur, bravely grabbing at his crotch again before whispering in his ear, “to ruin me.”

You can visibly see when red door Elijah fully takes over, any apprehension within him vanishes as he suddenly rips your night gown off your body and steps out of his pants, leaving you both naked.

“I didn’t mean here!” You whisper, looking around anxiously. The kitchen is one of the main rooms of the compound. If anyone were to wake up it’s highly likely they’d come to this room.

You squeak as Elijah lifts you onto the centre island and pushes you to lay flat on it. The cold marble countertop against your back sends chills down your spine as Elijah stands between your legs. His eyes are clouded,

“What if someone walks in?” You ask as Elijah bends your knees so that your feet are on the counter and your core is exposed. Elijah doesn’t respond, instead grabbing the last blood bag and holding it over you with a smirk.

You don’t have time to even question what the hell he’s planning before he rips the plastic in half with his hands, drenching you in blood. God this man is lucky you love him because no other human would still be turned on while covered in blood. Elijah leans down so you are face to face, his chest is getting covered in blood now as well.

“If anyone walks in here,” Elijah dips a finger between your breasts, “I’ll snap their neck.” He growls, sucking on his now bloody finger, moaning at the taste.

Red door Elijah doesn’t seem to be the slow and steady type. His movements are rough and almost crazed as he grips your thighs and pulls your legs over his shoulders. Now eye level with your blood covered cunt, Elijah doesn’t hesitate to practically devour you. The filthy sound of his mouth slurping up the mix of blood and arousal between your folds echoes throughout the kitchen. You release a choked moan as he sucks harshly on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

Normal Elijah usually starts soft and gradually builds your pleasure to its peak. So this unfamiliar pace fills you with an uncomfortable sensitivity, causing you to grip his hair in both your hands and try to push his head away. Elijah releases a disapproving grunt at your actions. He moves his grip from your thighs to your wrists and pins them straight down at your sides. Your hands clench helplessly at the sleek countertop in an attempt to find something to grip as you squirm with oversensitivity.

When your wrists are tugged on slightly, you lift your head for the first time to watch the man between your legs. Elijah’s face is coloured crimson and veins are moving beneath his skin. A whimper passes your lips when his tongue thrusts inside you and his red eyes meet yours. His gaze is intense and demanding, practically shouting ‘behave’. You throw your head back against the marble with a loud moan as Elijah starts fucking you with his tongue. The feeling of the pointed muscle curling against your sweet spot has you arching your back. Sharp stabs of overstimulation are turning into waves of pleasure, causing you to clench your thighs around his head.

“E-Elijah I’m so close.” You wail, all your pleasure knotting together, building up in your lower stomach. Elijah hums in approval, his tongue working faster. and his nose nudging against your clit. Your moans increase in pitch as you’re brought closer to the edge, your hips jerking and your legs starting to shake. It doesn’t take more then a few thrusts of Elijah’s tongue against the spongy spot inside you before you’re coming, wailing in pleasure and practically grinding on your boyfriends face as you get lost in the euphoric feeling. Your legs are almost vibrating with the intensity of their shaking and your walls are pulsating around Elijah’s tongue as you come down from your orgasm.

Elijah pulls away quite suddenly, releasing his bruising grip on your wrists and dropping your legs from his shoulders. “Stand up.” He orders, taking a step backwards. You would have given him a ‘are your serious right now?’ type of look, if you weren’t too out of it. Instead you stay lying across the counter, trembling as you come down from your high. After a moment of silence you manage to speak out, “Elijah, Can’t.”.

“I said,” he grabs you under your arms and hauls you upwards so you are standing on shaking legs, all your weight being supported by him, “stand up.” He seethes, releasing his grip.

Your knees instantly buckle underneath you and you fall into Elijah’s chest. You would have hit the ground if not for him wrapping an arm around your waist, holding you against his chest and smirking at your feeble state.

“My naughty girl,” Elijah tugs your hair so that your head swings back, your eyes meeting his, “can’t even follow a simple task, hm?” He taunts.

His face has returned to normal, and he seems to have wiped the blood from around his mouth at some point. Elijah’s eyes are clouded with more than lust and you can see the red door version of him staring back at you. He usually talks much more during sex, and you can’t deny that you miss the comforting praise.

That thought is literally smacked away as Elijah’s palm meets your cheek in a light slap. You probably look like an idiot for a split second as you process what he just did.. and how much you liked it. You release a drawn out moan as he repeats the action before grabbing your jaw, holding your head up to his and smirking.

“Do you like that?” Elijah chuckles as you flush in embarrassment.

“If you wish to act like a slut, then I will treat you as such. Open.” He growls, pulling at your jaw as you open your mouth. Red Door Elijah is seemingly full of surprises, as he lines up his mouth with yours and spits. The feeling of someone else’s spit in your mouth would likely make you throw up. But this was Elijah, your boyfriend and the love of your life so of course it feels good. A rush of arousal wets your spent cunt as you gurgle slightly.

Elijah clamps your mouth shut, grinning like a maniac as he instructs you “Swallow,” The slide of his spit down your throat makes you moan, absolutely loving the filthiness of his actions, “Good girl.” He praises you for the first time, giving your jaw a light squeeze before releasing it.

The praise is gone as quickly as it came when Elijah spins you around, bending you over the counter. You gasp at the coldness against your sensitive nipples. He holds your hip with one hand, the other guiding his erect cock through your shiny folds. The pleasure of Elijah nudging your clit with every upstroke distracts you from the feeling on blood slowly drying on your skin.

Your mouth drops in surprise, screaming out as Elijah suddenly enters you in one bruising thrust and with no warning. The stretch is painful, but you’re wet enough that he slides in easily. Your hand shoots behind you on reflex, pushing hard against his torso. Elijah only chuckles at your pathetic attempt of pushing him away, grabbing your wrist and holding it behind your back.

“Too much Elijah, please just wait!” You plead when you feel him starting to move inside you, blood smearing the whit marble underneath you.

“Shh, take it.” Elijah shushes, not waiting for you to adjust before slamming into you again, his tip pressing against your cervix and causing you to sob out a moan. With every battering thrust of his hips, the loud clap of skin meeting skin fills the room.

It doesn’t take more than a minute before the pain dulls into a numbing ache and the pleasure overwhelms you. You’re moaning like a whore, taking every inch of his thick cock inside you, your walls fluttering around him. The way his shaft glides across your g spot makes you jerk with pleasure.

“That’s it, such a sweet little slut falling apart on my cock.” He coos, releasing your hand and pulling you up till your back meets his chest. He wraps his arm around your neck so your chin rests on his bicep and keeps working his hips back and forth, fucking into you in long, brutal strokes. The base of his cock throbs every time he bottoms out, and his balls slap against your slit with wet, filthy noises. His animalistic grunts mix with your cries of pleasure.

“Still too much for you?” He teases, laughing when his only response is a gurgle of incoherent words that you didn’t even notice came from your mouth. “Yeah?” He murmurs, pounding into you at an inhuman speed.

Elijah rests his other hand on your blood stained lower stomach, sending a jolt of warmth through you.

“Who do you belong to?” Elijah whispers, his breath tickling your ear. “Who owns this cunt, y/n?” He runs the tips of his fingers over your clit.

“Y-you Elijah!” You sob, tears forming in your eyes from the intense pleasure this man is giving you.

“That’s my girl.” Elijah praises before bringing his hand down hard on your clit. Surprisingly it wasn’t painful at all. You heard the smack before you felt it and suddenly you were gushing around his cock, the mix of his cock rubbing at your walls and the sharp pleasure to your clit plummeting you into an unexpected orgasm. Your eyes go blurry from tears as you squirt all over the counter and floor. Euphoria runs through you in a single wave as your walls uncontrollably pulsate around Elijah.

“Look at you, cumming on my cock like a good little girl. Making such a mess.” Elijah’s groans, pulling out of you suddenly. You whine at the loss, feeling your slick cunt clench at the air. Elijah turns you to face him before bending down and hooking his arms under your legs. You squeal as he lifts you up, essentially folding you in half as your knees touch your shoulders. Elijah’s hands cup your arse, and you wrap your own around his neck. He shows no strain as he holds you in mid air, turning you both so he can lean slightly against the counter.

You throw your head back and clench your eyes shut as Elijah pushes inside you again, the sensitivity of having just cum causing you to claw harshly at his back.

“Elijah, stop!” You call out, the overstimulation feeling like too much. He doesn’t listen, not that you were expecting him too.

You’re absolutely helpless as he starts moving you up and down his length, using you like some type of fuck doll. You fidget and squirm relentlessly in an attempt to make him stop.

“Look at me!” Elijah barks. You use the little strength you have to lift your head, meeting his intense and feral gaze. “You are going to shut up, take my cock and you’re going to fucking enjoy it. Do you understand?” He sneers, slowing down so you can catch your breath and come up with a coherent sentence. You’ve never heard Elijah speak so vulgar before and it strangely turns you on.

You know that if you put up enough of a fight, your Elijah would come back and stop immediately. He’d probably beat himself up with guilt while he holds you and apologises way too many times. But you don’t want Elijah to feel bad, you asked him to do this in the first place.

“I understand, wanna take it.” You rush out before crashing your lips onto his, you can feel his grin as you try to shove your tongue into his mouth. He parts his lips for you and you whimper when he sucks heavily on your tongue.

Elijah thrusts his hips up erratically, his thrusts reaching vampire speed as his climax steadily approaches. You break the kiss to bury your face in his neck when you feel your own rising in your gut.

Elijah lifts one hand to grip your hair and pull your head back to present your neck. Searing pain rushes through you as his fangs pierce your skin, mixing with the pleasure of his thrusts. Your vision goes black as your third orgasm of the night crushes you. The feeling of Elijah’s cum filling your tight cunt only prolongs your pleasure. You feel Elijah retreat from your neck as his moans fill the air, mixing with what you realise is your own screams.

Elijah slips out of you when his cock stops spurting, feeling the aggressive, lust filled haze of red door Elijah dissolving with every passing moment. He sits you on the counter momentarily to unhook his arms from underneath your legs. Then he lifts your trembling form back into his embrace, one hand holding your bum for support and the other cradling your head into his neck. Your grip around him loosens as you continue riding the waves of pleasure, shaking like a leaf in his hold.

Elijah chuckles endearingly as you moan into his neck. “Still coming baby?” He grins, kissing the top of your head. You manage a small whimper of agreement as you feel him start to walk somewhere.

Thank god for vampire speed, because Elijah has you in a warm shower within the minute. You rest against him, half asleep, as he washes the dried blood off your skin. After you are both clean and dry, you settle under the covers of your bed, cuddled up to the love of your life.

“Please tell me you don’t regret it.” Elijah mumbles into your hair. You release a tired laugh, your face pressed against his chest.

“No my love, I don’t regret it at all. Did it help?” You yawn, cuddling further into his comforting embrace.

“Definitely.” Elijah sighed, his mind feeling a lot calmer and his body tired. You tilt your head up, capturing his lips in a sweet kiss.

“Love you lijah.” You smile into the kiss as you speak. Elijah copies your grin as he responds, “Love you so much baby.”. He gives you one last peck before leaning back into the pillow and closing his eyes, waiting till he hears your cute snores before drifting into a dreamless sleep.

The couple are passed out cold by morning, still recovering from their late night. Klaus however, is very much awake as he stumbles into the living room, where Freya and Kol are engaged in an intense game of chess.

“Do not go into the kitchen!” Klaus gags, collapsing onto the couch in a dramatic heap. “And remind me to kill both Elijah and Y/N.”.

T A G L I S T (msg or comment to be on it)

@b1tchy

[blackleatherjacketz]

Shadow and Sin

Klaus Mikaelson, Elijah Mikaelson x Female Reader

Summary: (NSFW) Having just recently moved to New Orleans, you get intimately acquainted with both Mikaelson brothers, but don't find out who they truly are until it's too late.

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Final Chapter

[klaroveins]

Was it casual when he allowed her to drink his blood straight from the vein while she was dying?

Was it casual when he came all the way from New Orleans for her graduation in Mystic Falls?

Was it casual when he allowed Tyler Lockwood to come back to Mystic Falls even though he was in love with Caroline but understood she was in love with Tyler and only wanted her to be happy?

Was it casual when Tyler was her first love but he intended to be her last?

Was it casual when he offered to show her anywhere around the world, Paris, Rome and Tokyo?

Was it casual when he drew a beautiful picture of her even after she insulted him and didn’t give in to his charms easily?

Was it casual when he let his guard down with her considering he was a paranoid person and she hated him?

Was it casual when he constantly pursued her even when she hated him?

Was it casual when he sacrificed one of his Hybrids that he’d spent centuries working to create, just for a single date with her?

Was it casual when before his death, they shared one final kiss?

Was it casual when she believed he was worth being saved?

Was it casual when she always knew he was never the villain in her story?

NOTHING ABOUT KLAROLINE WAS CASUAL.

[dragongirlpoet]

Dark Signs

Part I

<Read Part II here>

Alucard x female reader

Synopsis: A flirty, playful night with Adrian takes a dark turn. (1.6k words)

TW: Dark fantasy, horror, blood, smut (explicit) 🔞

This is my first attempt at smut, and who better than my bby Alucard as MC. I hope you enjoy it!

“…And there, in the dead of night, under a moon so maroon, the White Wolf prowled — ravenous. Sturdy were its footsteps, calculated were its gait. Ahead, still as a rosebud in a windless twilight, its prey lay splayed out — helpless. 

Something about its small intakes of breath, its unsuspecting demeanour, made it all the more enticing for the imposing predator. Ever so slowly, the White Wolf, eyes like the golden gleam of a rising dawn, emerged from the thicket, pressing forward, inching closer, closer, closer…”

Body hovering over mine, Alucard’s words were a rasp above my cheek. The antiquated tome he had been reading from now a forgotten humdrum between our bodies. As velvet lips collided into me, I melded into his being. He was a hypnotic wave crashing into shore, and I was but delicate driftwood being dragged underwater.

His kiss was insistent, impatient. I had no escape, no cavity of air to quell the lack of oxygen in my lungs. Still, I kept going, because he was the only breath I needed. My fingers clawed ruthlessly at his back — muscle and bone Herculean from years of battling night creatures and evil forces. Skin so utterly cold, yet I wanted — needed — more.  

His body was a frigid storm to my fervent summer. “You are glorious as the solstice sun, darling. With you I am forever warm, within you I live eternally,” the confession falling easy from his lips the day he had taught me how to hunt.

Faces lost in each other, bodies entwined and limbs tugging like our lives depended on it, Alucard let his hand roam under my nightdress, finally finding solace in the swell of my chest. I shifted slightly at the unusual chill. Was he ever this cold?

Over the months I had become accustomed to his half human intricacies. His unnerving stillness, his undeniable thirst for blood try as he might to hide it, his erratic need to stay up nights in a row roaming the castle “just to be sure…” 

I was no fool. Those witching hours almost always had him back in his childhood room — he would stare, as if entranced, at the spot he had staked his father. And I would see the grief in his eyes — the absolute contrition at his travesty, one he wished he could take back, but couldn’t. 

Alucard, the son of the great Dracula and benevolent Lisa Tepes, the almighty dhampir. A being so beautiful he could bring a kingdom to its knees, yet one so cruelly tormented by his past.

“Baby, eyes on me.” My eyes fluttered open, realising I was lost in the wrong moment. He crashed his lips into mine once again. 

As if in a bid to stop my obsessive thinking, he started to grab at my breast, kneading furiously, thumb toying with my nipple. I leaned in closer, but alas my human endurance had reached its limits and I pulled away for air. 

“I want to know what happened to the prey. I am most opposed to unfinished stories,” I tried to play coy in between ragged breaths. Nose to mine, he wore a smirk on his handsome face. He had a playful glint to his stare — contemplative, as if taunting me to continue with my officious fib. 

Alucard picked the tome up from my stomach, grazing his fingers ever so slightly over my abdomen. He trailed the book slowly down my navel, its cracked spine against my bare skin sent fireworks to my core. I watched with bated breath as the print finally landed where he wanted it — in between my legs. He dragged its spine down, then up again, repeating the motion, teasing, eyes never leaving mine. 

Satisfied with how wet my undergarment had become, he hushed, “I think it better if I showed you instead. Don’t you agree, princess?” 

“Ye..yesss,” 

“Do you like that?”

“Yesss…”

“Open your legs wider.”

I obeyed. Submitting to him was easy. Too easy.

“Let’s see just how wet you are for me, hmm?” 

Without warning, Alucard ripped my soaking cloth off my hips and plunged two fingers inside. I cried out at the shock and how good it felt, and as if by instinct grabbed his hands and guided them deeper into me. Alucard let out a stifled moan at my brazenness, his erection growing fast under his black britches.

He watched with eyes half-lidded, completely spellbound as I bounced into his hand, my breasts rising and falling with every thrust. Body and mind so turned on he reached urgently into his pants and started stroking his length. 

For a long moment we just sat there, eyes locked on each other, legs spread wide, our sex stimulated. And what a profane sight it must have been for our bed chamber was filled with nothing but wanton “fucks” and the squelching of his fingers coated in my lust. 

I fucked myself into his fingers harder, and reached desperately for his cock. With more force than necessary, he caught both my wrists with his free hand and pinned them to my stomach. “That’s for later,” he chided. 

Alucard was usually wary of his inhuman strength around me. But tonight, tonight he was carnal, rough, like an animal being let out of its cage. His knuckles went white with how much pressure he had put on my wrists, and I bit my lip knowing it was going to bruise. 

As if to edge me further, Alucard pulled his fingers out and gazed at them ever so intently, admiring the slather of fluid glistening like diamonds on his digits. If his etherealness hadn’t killed me, then perhaps what he did next would have driven me close to death. With deliberate calm, he brought his fingers into his mouth, swiping his tongue over my juices, savouring every single trickle.

My dhampir, hair like a divine cascade of golden waterfalls, on his knees, drinking my lust as if it were vital sustenance, yet all that he was was in direct contrast to his reverence — powerful, dominant and deadly. I marvelled at his masculine elegance — the way his pectorals tensed as he licked his fingers dry, how his faded sanguine scar stood distinct against his alabaster skin, the definition of muscles that ran down his pelvis…

I swallowed. 

“God, you taste so good. Only for me, yes?” 

“Yesss…” Being thoroughly educated and well-read, I was fairly ashamed it was all the vocabulary I could muster.

And it would seem that more crude words were soon to follow, as Alucard then dove in between my thighs and sent his tongue plunging — deep, depraved — into my clenching walls.  

“Fuuuck, Adrian!” 

Hearing his name sent him over the edge, and he started sucking hard — wet pillow lips against wet pillow flesh. I was heaven and hell collided, rising from it like the luminescent birth of a star. I ground my core into his face, hands grasping his woven-gold hair, willing him to dive further into me. 

Alucard groaned in pleasure against my clit. Powerful, cold hands gripped my thighs apart, and my sweet lover lay soft kisses to the insides, thumbs expertly caressing my sensitive folds. In all his vampire glory, he bared his fangs ever so slightly, sharp teeth just barely peeking through, grazing them over my clit and thighs, nibbling, never breaking skin. I was undone. 

“Adrian…Adrian please…”

“Please what?”

I was all heavy pants and delirious to give a coherent reply.

Head still positioned at the apex of my thighs, his eyes raked over his masterpiece — delicate features coated in sweat, nipples hard from stimulation and the soppy, pulsating cunt laid out like a feast inches from his mouth. What a mess he had made of me, and a mess he was most certainly proud of. 

From in between my legs, Adrian was a fallen angel from a paradise unknown. His eyes like gold afire were so wholly glazed over they looked like one with the smouldering flames nestled atop our chamber candles. 

Patience waning, he asked again. “Please…” humming the words into my clit…“what?” A loud moan escaped my lips. I arched my back in sheer pleasure, feeling the build up in my core.

He dragged his fangs against my thighs, eyes fixated on mine, drinking in my desire. 

“I want…I want…” my chest heaving so violently from how close I was to release.

“What do you want?” Adrian moved to whisper against my ear. This was too much. 

“I want…I want you to turn me.”

Alucard went very still, his pupils blown wide. Everything went very still. The flames lost its dance, the curtains absent of sway.

“What did you say?” His voice was still water with undercurrents of danger. 

His statuesque figure towered over me, pinning me under. 

“I said, I want you to turn me.” 

Alucard held my stare, and as I took them in, an unearthly shadow seemed to lurk beneath those incandescent irises. 

If my question threw him off guard, his unsettling stillness made it clear he wasn’t most fond of surprises. It took a long moment before he finally moved, his supernatural speed having him by the window in seconds. 

Frustration soon shrouded my orgasmic high. I forced my spent body off the reprieve of our mattress. He was going to answer me whether he liked it or not.

“Adrian! You cannot disregard my question any longer! I’ve wanted this from the first time you made love to me, don’t pretend it was never asked of you,” exasperation evident in my tone.

“Peril or not, I am not afraid. I…”

A sudden squall of wind extinguished the flickering flames. Our bed chamber was plunged into chasmic darkness, summoning a bitter chill that seeped through the wooden floors. There, still as a predator hunting prey, hovered the glowing golden orbs of Alucard's eyes, the blacks of his pupils far wider than I’d ever seen. 

“A…Adrian?” 

Part II

[thornart]

"My soul, once devoted to the light, now serves the darkness. I am a creature of shadow, forged in the blood of the night. The warmth of life has been replaced by a cold hunger, and though I long for the peace of my former existence, I am bound to the eternal dance of predator and prey. Yet, in the stillness of the night, I can hear the whispers of my past, a mournful dirge of what was lost and can never be regained. And do you know what terrifies me the most? I like this feeling…"

[wholoveseggs]

~Your local egg carton~

{masterlist}

18+

THANK YOU so much for all your love and support; it truly means the world to me.

lets get cracking!

Warnings: Its all mostly smut

(or soon to be published smut)

~Elijah Mikaelson♡~

~Daemon Targaryen♡~

hi :) my name is Lissa ♡♡

I started this blog in November of 2023, mostly as an outlet for my own personal Elijah Mikaelson-based thirst. ♡ It has since become so much more. I love my engaging and passionate followers, I love writing for them, and I love being part of the community. I hope you'll join us, and find something that makes you smile {or gets you hot~ hehe} ♡♡♡

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-- Check out #lissa celebrates 1000 for my AMA

Check out #lissa responds for all my replies

If you rather read on Ao3- Link is here

[gorbalsvampire]

The Answer May Surprise You

We’ve done this quite a few times, since we met Dominique and Sylvester. The four of us meet up on the Quay and start walking, out of town and around the headland and then down to the beach once we’re safely out of sight. We build a fire, and once it’s going we sit close enough to stay warm and far enough to feel safe (and look spooky, if I’m honest), and we talk about what it’s like.

There’s something on my mind tonight. I curl my toes up in the sand, on instinct, bracing for the revelation or something, and I ask “have you… how many people have y’all killed?”

Dominique blinks, deadpan, then laughs. Throws back her head and practically roars with laughter. I’d be offended, but I’m too busy thinking how incredibly hot she is. I’d never admit it, but the reason I suggested these little meetups was at least eighty per cent to spend more time talking with, and looking at, and thinking about Dominique. She glows in the firelight, shimmering dark and sleek across from me, and the next breath I take as I’m about to apologise for being such a weapons-grade dumbass is rough and unready because what I’m actually thinking about is jumping across the fire and burying myself in her giant hair and covering that long throat of hers in bites and kisses and —

I was gonna say something, but that’s Dominique for you.

“It’s not the sort of thing I count,‘Titia,” she says when she’s finally come back to Earth. “One thing to let it happen now and then, by accident, or to do in need when the damn fool’s decided you’re a monster and you gotta burn. But you don’t sit there, brooding and preening over what a monster you are. No pride, but no shame either. And never trust anyone who says you have to keep score.”

She leaves us no choice but to stan, says a stan who has no choice.

Dorian follows my eyes and coughs. I know they’re nervous about this. They’re not stupid, they have eyes and a bunch of brain cells, and they know — because we had the talk about this around the time we had the talk about that and the other, and what I’m saying here is that babe, I’m a vampire led in good time to babe, I love you and I don’t want to see you die one day and because we’d reached that point we had to negotiate with ‘til death us do part is a lovely sentiment but I’m poly and I have to know — will you get jealous?

D doesn’t get jealous, or at least they never admit to it, but they are a one-at-a-time kind of lover, and I think something buried deep in their psyche still worries about competing with Dominique. I keep telling them a) it’s not a competition and b) I have more than enough love to give and c) I don’t even know if Dominique swings my way and d) I live with Dorian and I let Dorian turn me into this and dear God I love you Dorian, you stupid sweet sexy jazz dork. I don’t tell them e) which is that nobody could compete with Dominique anyway, and I would hate to ever have to choose between them because if Dominique said yes, but it’s me and only me I might not immediately want to say no.

Anyway, Dorian coughs again and pokes up the fire to hide it and says, huskily as they can manage, “It’s not about keeping score, Dominique. If you reach a point where they’re just numbers, you’ve already gone off the deep end. But I think if you’ve happened to kill someone — if you’ve had to kill someone — you owe them something for the life they might have led. I keep diaries, and I write down every single name, every time for eighty years, just in case. Someone ought to remember them, and I’ll be here a bloody long time.”

Dear God, I love them. That’s what surprised me most about them. Not that they were a vampire, not even that they’d left the whole concept of ‘gender’ down the back of a sofa when Prohibition was still a thing and sort of got along without it ever since, but the sheer decency of them. The same petty, prissy, fussy little things that make them such a good teacher make them such a good vampire — according to my extremely limited ‘is it like a horror movie in here?’ sense of what makes a ‘good vampire’, anyway. Of course they keep notes in case they forget what happened last time. Of course they never throw away a diary in case they need it forty years later to remember some obscure fact about someone who might well be dead by now. Of course they care.

Sylvester. We all look at Sylvester. Dominique smirks, feline, and I crush the obvious joke as it bubbles up in my head even as I think about stroking her (stop it) and whether she purrs (stop it). Dorian’s lips are thin and tight, their eyes owlish behind their glasses, turning the firelight back. There’s some history there, and I’m afraid to ask.

“What are you all waiting for?” Sylvester grumbles. He’s kicked off his worn old man shoes and his worn old man feet are closer to the fire than any of ours. Words flit around my head — weatherbeaten, salt-stained, tanned — and as Sylvester shuffles himself a bit closer I catch a glimpse of scars and tattoos on his legs and the glimmer of heavy gold rings in the dark. If Sylvester the vampire pirate didn’t exist, someone would have had to invent him. He’s just too good to be true.

“C’mon, Sylv,” I say. “How many?”

“None.”

The word falls out of him grudgingly, a single penny in a slot machine, no lights or sounds blarting out at you, just the smallest kind of victory.

“You?” The word’s out of my mouth before I can cram it back in there, and “I don’t believe you,” says Dorian, and Dominique doesn’t say anything, she just sits there and smiles.

“Not for this. Not to eat. That’s what you’re aksing, in’t it? You live a kind of life where you kill a man and go to gaol, ‘less you’re in the army or the navy or what-have-you. So you’re aksing me a question as makes sense to you.”

Dorian’s mouth is open and they’re saying words — “You know very little about the life Laetita’s led” — and I put my hand up.

Sylvester nods to me and he says: “I don’t know how many men I killed at sea. Don’t know how many I knifed or hit in dock as died later. One or two women, I do know, and I amn’t proud of it now, but…” He rubs his beard, tugs at it like he does when he’s thinking, and points at Dominique. “Since that ‘un brought me over? Not one for eating, and I never tried to kill none either, after we ‘scaped Haiti and came to shore. Believe it or don’t; still God’s honest truth.”

It’s always the ones you least expect.

Bloodspell is a PWYW indie vampire TTRPG it's a little bit pretentious but it's my baby and i love it

[bloodyknucklesforme]

Vampire AU

ghoap x F!reader (in third person)

Johnny accidentally turning a random girl and begging Simon to keep her

"Please stop yelling," she asked, rubbing her temples. Her head was throbbing. It was too bright, too loud, too smelly. Her boyfriend was yelling about her not being ready to leave for date night. A nice reservation at one of the new up and coming restaurants. It was hard to get apparently. "Just go without me."

Near tears you curled up in bed, kicking your shoes off while you dress bunched up by your hips. Eyes shut so tight it looked staticy. Your hands clamped down over your ears.

He grabbed your wrist, yelling and yelling.

"Get up!" He demanded, shoving a pill into your palm. "I'm not missing dinner because your pmsing."

Always so dismissive. The pain was spreading down your neck to your spine and around your ribs to your chest. Your bones were caving in on themselves, turning to dust in your body. You cried out, choking on tears and phlegm. You'd had intense period cramps, thrown up so hard blood vessels in your eyes popped, had your foot run over by a car, broken a bone or two - this was worse.

You were dying. It didn't just feel like it. Your brain was screaming that it was dying. An intense feeling of dread.

He was at least acting concerned now. Saying he would take you to a hospital if it was that bad. Your eyes opened to black spots blocking out much of anything. The setting sun burned your skin.

"Close the blinds," you begged. Snot bubbled at your nose while spit stained the comforter.

"I'm right here." He knelt down next to the bed. "We just need to get you to the car."

He grabbed your wrist again.

Your teeth sunk into something chewy. You bit down harder and it exploded like gummy candy - filling your mouth with sweet liquid. You drank down and down. Horrified sobs and cries came from somewhere beyond you. You couldn't tune into listen anymore.

A solid drum beat that got quieter and more erratic was all you could hear.

Simon had ripped Johnny a new one. Biting some random drunk bird and letting her go off without finishing what he started. Scared off by Simon's own call for him. She disappeared before they could kill her. If they couldn't find her their only hope was that the transformation killed her. For her to burn to death when the sun rose. He didn't have the time or patience to babysit another newborn. Johnny was already a year old but still impulsive with an inflated ego that comes with immortality.

They had spent the rest of that night trying to track her back down. Simon would drain her if he had to. Reduce her to a whimper. Night two had similar luck. The city was too big for them to cover. He refused to call Price or Gaz for back up. Johnny would need to fix his fuck up himself.

Simon had smelled it first. A quiet nudge and they turned down a side street. It was a nicer neighbourhood. Up the fire escape. Johnny broke the latch on the window.  

They found her in the bedroom. On her hands and knees in a bloody dress curled up in the corner, knees to her chest. Blood dripping from her new fangs. Eyes filled with delirium.

She scrambled like a fawn when she heard Simon’s boot creak. A baby animal with no instinct, left to fend for itself. She'd be easy to kill.

"I...I didn't mean to." She sobbed. "I don't...I don't know what happened."

Johnny grabbed his arm.

"She's quiet pretty." He raised an eyebrow.

"No."

"Be nice to have around."

"No, Johnny."

"I'd let you fuck her first. Even though she's mine." He grinned.

Simon looked down at her. He could still end this. Not give in. Rip her head off right here, set the flat ablaze. Disappear like any other night. They'd call it a murder suicide. Lover's quarrel.

Johnny's teeth tugged on his ear lobe.

"Don't say no till you taste 'er."

She was pretty.

[perseephoneee]

PLEASE do something super fluffy with kol mikealson

i love ur work sm!!

babe you're making my day. hope this is something akin to what you wanted.

"you're red." "shut up." "like actually vermillion." (kol mikaelson x f!reader)

warnings: kissing?? also hatred towards bed and breakfasts

a/n: i forgot how much i love writing for kol. sorry for the large writing break...hope this makes up for it?

↳ masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist

You hate Kol Mikaelson. 

He’s cocky, impulsive, and constantly getting you into danger that you would never find for yourself. He also relentlessly flirts with you until you’re warm and deeply frustrated.  He’s complicated enough that you wish he wasn’t a part of your life so it could resume a sense of normalcy. 

Getting caught up in Mikaelson drama was never your plan. You just happened to make the mistake of working as a bartender at Russo’s—where they frequented. Klaus took a liking to you, and the rest is history. Being a human that’s friends with vampires is like poking a bear; not recommended nor convenient. 

This recent conflict was forgettable but proved to be a disruption to your life. One of them annoyed someone, and that someone wanted revenge, and now apparently you were in danger, and so on and so forth. You have repeatedly debated sending an invoice to the Mikaelson compound for restitution. You don’t think Klaus would find it very funny. 

You almost forgot about your life being in danger until you were forced to go on the run with the youngest brother, Kol. Kol, who insisted on driving you nuts. You kept trying to tune him out in the car, listening to the radio or focusing on the trees speeding past your window. Still, he was relentless and wouldn’t leave you alone for a minute. Plus, he was a horribly reckless driver, and you were gripping the door so tightly that you might hurt a muscle any minute. 

“I’ve lived for a very long time, but I’ve never visited Fes,” Kol said, one hand on the wheel as the other tapped on the door. You barely spared him a glance. “Would you visit Fes?”

“Not even sure what Fes is,” you answered through gritted teeth, suppressing a yelp as Kol took a turn obnoxiously fast. 

“City in Morocco considered its cultural capital.”

“You sound like a Google search,” you scoffed, sparing him half a glance. Long enough of a glance for Kol to give you a toothy grin, his canines glinting in the sunlight. 

“I like knowing things,” he states, squinting at you. “I don’t know much about you. Tell me something.”

“No.”

“Please?” he begged, every bit a kid enjoying picking on the new kid on the playground. You fixed him with a dead stare. 

“I hate your driving.” That caused him to laugh, which made him throw his head back and speed up even more. You clutched the handle and clenched your teeth till you felt your whole body would seize up. Kol eventually took pity on you and slowed down. It was enough for you to relax…slightly. “Where are we going?”

“Nowhere. Anywhere. Haven’t figured it out yet.”

��Brilliant. I’m going to die out here,” you sighed, sinking deeper into the leather seat. 

“Nonsense. Nik would dagger me if I let that happen, and I’m very tired of being daggered.”

“Not because you care about me or want me to live?” you jested, quirking a brow at him. 

“Now, why would I care about you at all?”

You pretended it didn’t sting, even though it felt impossible for you to care about Kol. Still, hearing him say it felt a bit like a slap in the face. You just turned more out the window, ignoring him. You didn’t notice the sharp look he sent you, as if he regretted what he said. 

Instead, you notice a sign advertising a Black Bear Diner. You perk up immediately, tapping the window and looking back at Kol. 

“There. Stop there.”

“That piece of garbage?”

“Yes! Stop the car!” you shouted, regretting your words when Kol slammed on the brakes. “Stop the car slowly, you asswipe.”

“You should’ve clarified that,” he smirked. You jumped out of the car, ran towards the restaurant, and experienced euphoria when the smell of waffles and fresh coffee hit your senses. Kol walked up slowly, hands in his pockets. The sun was obnoxious out here, but there were enough trees in the area to not make it feel like a desert. You could even see the mountain in the background in all its snowcapped glory. 

The inside of the diner was a welcome breeze on your damp skin. It wasn’t very crowded, and you got seated immediately as you happily flipped through your plastic menu. Kol looked slightly uncomfortable sitting in the diner, but you ignored him. You were getting pretty good at ignoring him. 

“I used to go here all the time with my family,” you said, flipping to the drinks page of your menu. “Not this exact location…but this chain. I went to it when I first moved to my hometown.”

“It’s barely gourmet.”

“Fuck gourmet, I want comfort. I want to feel like home,” you laughed, closing your menu. “Don’t you want that?”

“Home?” Kol inquired. “Not sure what that is anymore.”

Your lips turned down in a frown, but you offered nothing else. He didn’t seem like he wanted to talk, and you wouldn’t force him. The waiter came over to take your orders, and you happily ordered a black coffee, orange juice, and a waffle platter. After they left, you started packing your bag with the tiny jams and creamers they had out on the table. Kol just looked at you in disdain. 

“You are pathetic.”

“Rent is expensive, groceries are expensive, give me a break,” you snorted, taking a few sugar packets for good measure before you stopped looting. Kol laughed, running a hand through his hair and leaning back in his seat. His leg bounced from anxiety, and his fingers tapped the table in a paradiddle pattern, just left, right, left, left, right, left, right, right over and over again. He looked shockingly young, like the boy before he turned, and not the man he paraded as. For a split second, you could see yourself having a crush on him in high school if he was one of your peers. You erased that thought as soon as it came. “Can I ask a question?” you leaned forward on the table, arms folded in front of you. “Why are you guys always protecting me? I’m definitely a liability.”

“I think my brother just wants to sleep with you,” Kol sighed. You snorted, biting your bottom lip to subvert your laughter. Honestly…you have managed to weasel your way into our family—like a parasite.”

“Aw, your words are so kind,” you rolled your eyes, kicking Kol under the table. He just kicked you right back, wearing a smirk. “And I would never sleep with your brother.”

“Why’s that?” Kol questioned, crossing his arms. 

“His face is weird,” you answered. Kol put his head in his hands in laughter, and you joined him a second later. You weren’t sure if that was the reason, but it was the first thing that came to mind, and you didn’t think to change it. Plus, it made Kol laugh, which kind of made you happy. The arrival of your waffles made you even happier. 

“Bloody hell, you’re going to eat all of that?” Kol looked shocked, eyes flicking between you and your waffles. He had ordered a much smaller plate than yours. Yours likely could’ve been a party platter. 

“Yes, and I will do it with pride.”

You did eat all of it, and enjoyed Kol’s expression the whole time. He looked so disturbed it made up for it. You also drank all your coffee, orange juice, and free water refills. Your plan was to eat enough to enter hibernation. You even think Kol was a little impressed at some point. Kol asked the waiter for the nearest hotel, and they pointed you to a place three miles down the road that would likely have openings. By the time you left the diner, it was starting to get cold as the sun was setting. You could hear crickets; you probably would’ve gotten fireflies if you were more south. Kol drove surprisingly slow towards the hotel, which you attributed to his worry that going fast would cause you to throw up your entire waffle extravaganza. He slowed down even more when you came up to the “hotel”—which was actually just a bed and breakfast. An extremely cutesy bed and breakfast. 

The inside of the building was somehow worse than the outside. 

The outside had small-town charm. The inside was where doilies went to die. 

Both you and Kol exchanged glances as he went up to ring the bell. You counted seven cat portraits before a portly woman came out with a cheeky smile. She wore a linen frock and a floral dress right out of the 1960s. 

“Well, good evening,” she smiled. “What can I do for you?” She had a thick Minnesotan accent, and her smile made her eyes. Overall, she radiated friendliness. 

“We’d like a room?” you inquired, leaning against the counter. 

“Oh, you betcha! Lucky for you, I got the best suite in the house available. It’s perfect for you two lovebirds,” she chirped. Your eyes widened. 

“Oh, uh, we’re not together…,” you coughed. You turned to look at Kol, who just shrugged his shoulders. Completely useless. “Do you have a double?”

“Unfortunately, all our doubles are booked for our birding convention. I might have a futon available to bring to your room?”

“Perfect,” Kol smiled, finally interjecting. “We’ll take that.”

“Splendid! Here are your keys, and I’ll have you sign in there.”

You brought your one bag with you up the stairs and to the right to a room at the end of the hall. The wallpaper was mocking you at every turn, a plethora of orchids and pinks staring at you, along with the eyes of fifty million felines. You were certain Dolores Umbridge was hiding somewhere amongst the foliage. The room was less pink but still reminiscent of something in a senior home. The bed was the nicest part: a large four-poster with mahogany bedposts. The wallpaper was sage color with pictures of ferns. The ensuite bathroom had a clawfoot tub and gold décor. A painting of a young boy eating ice cream was on the wall. You immediately took it off the wall and turned it around so you didn’t have to look at it all night. 

“It’s a little…”

“Cozy?” Kol interjected, closing the door behind you two. 

“I was going to say tight.”

“It is the lovebird suite, darling,” Kol whispered in your ear, a smirk in his voice. A shiver ran down your spine. 

“I’ll take the futon.”

“I doubt you could fit a futon in here,” Kol scoffed. He was right. There was really only room for the bed and bedside tables. Whoever designed this room intended to spend a lot of time in bed. Your cheeks heated at the thought. You tapped your foot in thought before eventually sighing in defeat.

“Just…don’t get too handsy,” you shrugged, glaring at the vampire’s ever-present smirk. 

“Handsy? You must think me a rascal,” Kol cooed, stepping closer into your space. The room was tight, which meant you were backed against the wall. You felt like a rabbit being targeted by a fox, his mischievous grin and wandering eyes taking all of you in. Your eyes were drawn to how he licked his lips, and suddenly, your blood pressure spiked. Heat crawled up your neck, and you knew that Kol noticed. He always managed to notice. 

“Knock it off, Mikaelson,” you hissed, tilting your head up defiantly. 

“You’re actually red,” Kol chuckled, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. 

“…Shut up,” you slapped his hand away, maneuvering your way from his grasp. 

“Like actually vermillion,” he laughed, and you gave him an unsavory gesture as you escaped into the bathroom, closing the door behind you. Back against the door, you breathed out, groaning into your hands. You pushed off the door, getting ready for bed in an effort to put this night behind you. You cleaned up, brushed your teeth, and put on pajamas. In hot weather, you usually just wear a T-shirt and shorts to bed. Your t-shirt said, ‘I got lobotomized at Freddy Fazbear’s,’ something idiotic that you couldn’t even fully be ashamed of. When you exited, Kol was lying on top of the covers on his phone, having changed into a t-shirt and sweatpants. He looked up when you exited, snorting as he read the shirt. “You have an odd sense of humor.”

“It’s too evolved for you to understand,” you rolled your eyes, getting in on the other side of the bed and leaving space between the two of you. Kol smelled sweet, like vanilla, and it was slowly suffocating you. You both sat in silence for a second before Kol disrupted it. 

“Y/N,”

“No.”

“Darling,” he purred, inching closer to you. 

“What, Kol,” you turned to look at him, eyes narrowed. 

“You like me,” he said. It was not a question, just something he exclaimed. You scoffed. 

“I do not.”

“You do. It’s why you blush vermillion when I call you things like darling,” he smiled, propping himself up on his elbow as he lay on his side to stare at you. 

“You’re incorrigible.”

“So, if I kissed you…you wouldn’t care,” Kol inquired, voice soft as he sat up slightly. You felt your heart skip a beat, and Kol’s mouth turned up slightly when he heard it. You knew you just proved his point, but you refused to concede. 

“I wouldn’t care,” you whispered, holding his gaze. 

“So, when I do this,” Kol leaned up, kissing your cheek, his lips burning your skin. He kissed right under your jaw, finally on your pulse point. “…it doesn’t matter?” 

You bit your tongue to stop yourself. “It doesn’t matter,” you choke out, but all you’re doing is spurring Kol on. You’re a hare caught in his trap, and you can’t even find it in yourself to hate it. Kol sucks on your pulse point, nipping lightly and moving down your neck, one hand coming up to tilt your head more to the side for easier access. His touch was shockingly gentle as if he was giving you an out. Your will was thinning by the minute, though, and eventually, you grabbed his hand, causing him to stop. 

“Darling—” he starts, but you cut him off by kissing his lips, soft but passionate. For once, you’ve taken him off guard, and a sense of pride spurs through you as you part, kissing the corner of his mouth and looking at him through thick lashes. 

“Does it matter?” you ask, voice breathy. “For you…” You’re not sure exactly what you’re asking, but you know there’s a line you’ve crossed that you can’t return from. Kol’s thumb brushes your cheek, so gentle from the reckless, hotheaded vampire you are acquainted with. A grin crosses his face. 

“It means everything,” he smiles, kissing you again, fingers tangling in your hair. Your hands find his arms, sighing as he deepens the kiss. You’re on fire, every single part of you, and you’re sure that Kol can feel your racing heart and hot skin. You like kissing him, though, and you realize you like him a lot. 

“Kol?” you breathe. “Don’t sleep on the futon.”

“For you? I would never,” he grins, kissing you again. You make sure to put a Do Not Disturb sign on the door for later. 

…

Afterwards.

It’s the middle of the night when he wakes you up.

“I guess Nik won’t be able to sleep with you now.”

“Kol.”

“Because I’ll be the only one sleeping with you.”

“Go to sleep.”

There’s a shuffling of blankets as his arm wraps tighter around you, his breath hot on your neck. 

“You’re going to be stuck with me forever,” he whispers. 

You smile. “I’m okay with that.”

taglist:: @rafecameronswhore

[a--butterflys--dream]

Hmmmmmmore vampire boyfriend please-

sorry this took so long to get to !! I'm very sporadic in my writings here :')

but anyway, here's a little NSFW scenario with him that goes deeper into the first time he tastes your blood. GN reader, no anatomy specified.

CW: oral (receiving), blood and blood drinking, period mention, arousal drunk vampire idk.

vampire boyfriend who, when he finally, finally gets to taste you, can't hold back.

he wouldn't dare do anything without your consent, but the moment you make it clear he can do as he likes, he's on you. lapping from the wounds he'd made on your neck, his hands reaching under clothing to touch your bare skin.

"you're....far too alluring for your own good, my dear." he breathes out, his fangs seemingly longer as he feels your reaction to his touches. "i-is that right?" you'd reply meekly, letting out small whimpers as you writhe under his ministrations... his hands soon moved to strip you bare of any clothing, how much your heart was pumping from his doing was driving him mad. nothing could get between him and his darling now, right?

"pesky cloth...always getting in the way." he'd hiss, making his way between your thighs, leaving trails of bite marks as he grew closer to your arousal. "you can't get any more divine, it's.... unbelievable, truly." even if you protested, if it became too much for your body to handle, he's far too deep to stop now.

"let me just...have my fill of you." he chuckled darkly, using his mouth where it belonged, teasing and pleasuring you like no mortal man could. his tongue was quick and touching just the right places, your arteries on either side of his head only egged him on... as did the song of bliss you sang. nobody else was allowed to hear, yes? nobody. "o-oh please, i- h-haah, just.. a little more, I'm so close-" you'd cry, and tug at his hair, and god did he love it when you did that.

your hands tangled in his hair, so desperate for release had him harder than he'd ever been, and once you finally, finally felt the snap of release, he took all he could get. swallowing it all, lapping up anything he was able to take. he'd look up for approval, a silent question of if he was good enough. well... of course he was. how many men can make someone to cum with their mouth alone? but he wouldn't stop there. no, no, of course not. he'd have you writhing, begging, convulsing and screaming his name over and over, until he felt satisfied. "sorry, darling. I just can't get enough, you can give me one more...and I'll let you go." he'd pant, knowing he'd be coaxing more than one more orgasm out of you. he was addicted to the way you sounded, the way you moved, the taste... oh, the taste. god forbid you're on your period, he'd never be leaving from between your thighs.

he was one who enjoyed pleasing you so much that undoubtedly he'd soiled his pants, cumming without even the faintest of touches.

and don't forget about the aftercare!! he'd be running you a bath filled with soothing perfumed oil and bath salts, staying as close as you'd want, neverending praises spewing from his mouth. "you did so, so good for me, darling. I know, I know, you're tired. but I'll take care of you to the end." he'd even cook you a meal and personally feed it to you, anything you'd want, he'd make it happen.

-------------------

AN: and that's that for now, I hope this wasn't too badly written ;-; I haven't done something like this in a while so don't blame me too much...

should I give Vampire BF a name now, since he's become a frequent flyer? I'm open to suggestions if you guys have any.

[whereserpentswalk]

Everyone talks about your relationship differently now that your girlfriend is a vampire. She was turned a couple of months ago during a lab accident, it wasn't as violent as most non consenting vampire transformations, but it was still traumatic.

Nobody is openly bigoted about. Your freind group is pretty diverse, you know witches and a few werewolves and other assorted cryptids, but very few vampires other than her. And it feels like they're weird about her now, in this way where most humans are supportive but don't understand, or how most cyrptids see vampires as the monsters they have to prove they aren't like to be accepted.

People are suddenly more likely to take your side in an argument. More likely to be worried for your safety if she's mad at you. More likely to be afraid that she might hurt you. And they won't say why, but you know. And when you hug her suddenly it's more sexual, and when she has sex with you suddenly they're worried you're being manipulated.

You have to give her blood. Because you don't want to think of the terrible things she might have happen to her if she didn't have a steady source. And people think that she's going to use that to manipulate you somehow. But she doesn't. She wouldn't. And you could more easily use it to manipulate her, to threaten to withhold blood, if you wanted. But nobody ever accuses you. And people question how you feel safe when she could so easily physically overpower you now, how easily she could kill you, but you know she wouldn't, because you love eachother, because she's a kind person. And meanwhile if you chose to kill her you could so easily claim self defense, but you never would, and nobody would ever think you were a danger to her because of it.

And of course there's also the weird mourning. The way people say they miss her when they could still contact her. The way people talk about it as if it's a fate worse than death, as if it's something that will prevent her from ever feeling happiness again. How when you say that your girlfriend turned into a vampire they'll talk about how sorry they are for your loss, how they'll be so surprised that you're still with her. Or how when they learn that you're still with her they act like this is some sort of noble sacrifice you're making out of love, as if you wouldn't want to be with her. And of course the darker things, the threat of people who really think vampires are dead. The fact that her parents stood at her empty grave, the fact that her pastor preached that her soul is in heaven. The way that you know she'll never be safe outside of the city again.

Of course. There are things you've lost. Her body has changed, her muscles and fat faded so now that her ribs can be seen through her skin, her skin is blue and vainly, her eyes turned solid red, and her teeth now sharp and pointed like a shark's. Her back has sprouted wings, and her penis has been replaced with a fanged worm. And it hurts her. She doesn't pass for human at all, and it hurts her. And you tell her she's pretty, as much as people act like you're the victim for losing your human girlfriend she's much more hurt by losing her human body. So you pet her, and make her feel small and cute when the world considers her something dangerous and scary. And when she's upset about how her body looks you tell her she's still beautiful, or when that feels like denial you'll tell her that it's ok to be upset. And when she's sad that her body is cold now you'll cuddle her to make her warm. And when she misses sex, or hates herself for craving your blood, you'll let her drink from your breast or from between your legs, and people won't understand why but that's love, at least for you. And things will never be the same, but they can be ok, even if just for a small momment they can be ok. And you'll call her pretty, and she'll feel loved, she'll feel loved.

[elijahstwink]

Most truthful thing I will ever write

Klaus Mikaelson -

*daggers siblings more times than a primary school kid can count*

*kills siblings lovers/is the reason they are killed*

*makes Isobel burn to death infront of Elena*

*turns the mother of his child and her pack into wolves permanently because she was ‘stealing HIS kid’*

*poisons two 16 year olds (one dies)*

*kills papa tunde’s twin sons (kids) and makes Marcel present their heads to him*

*killed thousands of people*

*made his entire sire line hate him for things he did to them* some of these things include:

Turning a man and compelling him to drain his wife dry because he accused Rebekah of witchcraft.

Turned a farmer and made him burn an entire village to the ground because he owned land Klaus wanted. Instead of just compelling him to move.

A girl had a sick mother, Klaus got annoyed by the coughing. He turned them both then made the girl watch as he burned the mum alive.

Us: I love Klaus he’s so hot and funny

Finn Mikaelson -

*was the boring older brother who hated being a blood sucking monster*

Us : I FUCKING HATE FINN EWWWWW