#simon riley x vampire!reader

[saint-ajax]

[ SIMON RILEY X TWILIGHT!VAMPIRE! ]

“I morphed into a demon whose nature is to suck the life out of the living... Yet, you see me in the opposite light and yourself in the former..”

“You are pure and moral; you wear the luxury of nobility like a necklace, while I, my love, am corrupt and rotten inside and out...”

“That is nothing but a lie.” She comes near him in a flash, brushing her chest on his, sending a shiver down his spine from her stone-cold marble skin. Her fingertip hovers over his sharp jaw, so close, yet never touching his warm flesh as she traces down his face, pulling him near. Their breaths fuse in close proximity while her index teasingly stays in front of his lips.

“Yet in so many ways, you are not meant for me,” she breathes while her hand crawls down his throat and finally closes her grip around it, nearly taking his breath away.

“Which only makes you crave this more, don't you, angel?”

“No,” the angel lied through her teeth, her sharp fangs glinting, sending a wave of fear and thrill in his eyes. She looks him in the eye and observes, “You fear me,” when a horrid smile formed on his lips and his wicked thought escapes, the dominoes cascade in a line.

“I fear... I would beg you to suck the life out of me.”

and so the demon and fell in love with the angel...

“What a stupid angel...”

“What a sick, masochistic, demon...”

[dmitriene]

cw: blood

vampire simon riley feeding from you while you sit on his cock, without even squirming, calm with his sharp canines sunken deep in the thin skin of your neck, the beady, crimson liquid of your blood flooding his mouth, smudging along his pale lips, cock throbbing rapidly at the taste, making you whimper, gummy walls of your gooey cunt squeezing tight, rippling in response, chasing the feeling.

you card your fingers through the short, buzz cut hairs at his nape, tugging when he readjusts his mouth, opening wide, fangs moving in the deep, rounded notches he indented deep in your flesh, fresh, aching and swelling the more simon feeds, tongue darting out and lapping over the marks, suckling in between his almost aching teeth greedily, drunk on your taste to the point his eyes, deep ebony that gleam ruby under the right angle, flutter shut heavily.

simon tries to be as gentle as possible with you, heavy, calloused hand looped around the slope of your waist, supporting your back, knowing that if he won't, you can accidentally fall, with your body, boneless and weakened, leaning on the sinewy hardness of his chest, eyes blinking slowly, your forehead knocking against the side of his head, sliding aside until you nudge in his temple, while you let him eat, your hole warm and viscous, your blood sweet and nourishing.

he fucks you slowly then, with short, rutting bucks of his hips, breaching his engorged, pulsing cock deeper inside your taut, fluttering hole, folds messy with glistening strings of slick, spread wide around his length, as you keen and babble simon's name almost feverishly, nosing in the wrist of his hand that brushes, covers delicately at the throbbing wounds on your neck, and it's enough to make him cum, biting down a throaty growl.

main masterlist. quidelines.

[machveil]

thinking about Vampire!Simon Riley, who has a copy of your front door’s key, waiting for you to text or call him saying he can come in. even though he has a key he still plays by the vampire rule that he needs permission to enter. you can call him silly and sweet all you like, he just stares dead at you holding back a smile, “Gotta be a polite guest, lovie.”

he is your husband of four years

[swordsandholly]

Fancy

Ch 2: Just Be Nice to the Gentlemen, Fancy

Previous | Next | Ao3

NSFW | MDNI

Vampire! Poly 141 x Fem! Plus Size! Reader

Word Count: 7k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life.

Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate for the better.

A/N: Y’all are getting updates to two fics in a row bc my Wellbutrin has well and truly kicked in. Say thank you to big pharma or whatever

A week passes. You tucked that wad of cash into your special hiding spot behind the vent above your bed. It still feels like it’s burning a hole through you. You made lists of things everything you could possibly spend it on, how much each item costs individually, how much it might help if you save it. In the end, you decided - rather impulsively - to get all new water filters for your entire apartment. The shower head and both sinks. It eats away most of the cash but you’ve never felt so clean - never realized the amount of sludge sticking to your skin until it wasn’t anymore.

The four men haven’t come back, at least to your knowledge. Most likely they’re done with you after that single meeting. They’ve gone back to Cherry and you’re back to working as a server - having meager tips shoved down the bust of your dress and too rough hands grabbing your inner thighs.

After the gentile treatment you received, though, you feel a bit disgusted. Reminded that they choose to be this way. That vampires aren’t just like that, they aren’t made like that, they choose to treat you - to treat humans - terribly. It makes your gut churn with anger in a way it hasn’t since you were an over-achieving teen sneaking out to attend protests in the lower city square.

It is what it is. Life goes on.

The train lurches on your way to work, as usual. News and advertisements scroll along the screens lining the top of the cabin.

TWO DEAD: LOWER THIRD STREET - BOTH EXSANGUINATED

DISAPPEARANCES CONTINUE TO GROW IN NUMBER IN THE FRENCH QUARTER

ONCE AGAIN THE CITY COUNCIL OVERRULES SUIT FOR HUMAN REPRESENTATIVE CHAIR

UNIDENTIFIED SUBSTANCE FOUND IN JANE DOE

With grit teeth you tear your eyes away. People around you whisper, conspire about what might be going on. As if you all don’t already know what’s happening. As if there isn’t a cancer in this city centuries old.

Nothing is new under the constant night.

Life goes on.

You sigh, quietly checking yourself in the mirror before locking up your things in the employee break room and punching in your time card. Before you can even step foot toward the main floor, a girl with pitch black hair begins charging toward you.

“You!” Cherry stomps up to you, voice cracking with anger. Her platform boots raise her up above your level.

You nearly jump out of your skin, instinctively backing away and against the wall. “W-what -“

“You stole my clients!” She shrieks.

“I- what?”

“Cherry.” The owner warns, appearing behind her. A shadow looming over the two of you. A man ready to grab the scruffs of two warring kittens. A few other girls who just arrived for their shifts stare with wide, nervous eyes.

The last time there was a fight here a girl got her eye stabbed out.

“You took them! They’re my best paying clients and you took them! What did you do, huh? You suck their cocks for free?” Her face is barely an inch from yours and a sharp acrylic nail pokes your chest so harshly you’re surprised it doesn’t break skin.

It’s your turn to fume - face hot and hands balling into fists. “How dare you! I swear to god I-“

“Ladies!” The owner booms, grabbing both your shoulders, effectively putting an end to this little spat before it can escalate further. “Quiet. Our guests will hear you. Cherry, go smoke a cig and cool the fuck off. Fancy, follow me.”

You feel a bit like a child on their way to the principles office as you follow the owner toward the bar, wringing your hands and glancing around wildly. Despite your irritation, fear creeps through every part of you. The other girls are staring - whispering to each other behind perfectly manicured hands.

“I - sir - I really didn’t-“ You stop when that same gold tray is shoved into your hands.

“I don’t care what you did or didn’t do.” He sighs loudly. “They’re requesting you.”

“But I don’t-“

“I. Don’t. Care.” He points at you in much the same fashion as Cherry before him. “Your job is what our guests want you to do. So go do your job”

Your jaw clicks as you shut it. Cherry is glaring absolute fucking daggers at you from the back room, her sparking red dress nearly matching the shade of her face. You can’t blame her. You’re taking her clients, her paycheck, her survival. It makes you feel a bit monstrous, if you’re honest with yourself. There isn’t any time to focus on that too much as you’re ushered to the private booths. There’s no reason for you to give this up, either. If they want you they want you, and it’s their fault for kicking her to the curb.

It’s your survival too, at the end of the day.

It feels eerie to walk down this corridor again. To stand before that heavy curtain again. Your hands don’t shake this time, though. Even with the added tension from your previous interaction they remain steady.

They’re seated the same as before. Simon’s mask is different - a regular balaclava as opposed to the skull. You realize that his eyebrows and lashes are blonde - so strangely soft for such a harsh looking man. They’re all dressed far more casually, it seems. All the way down to Johnny’s sneakers that probably cost more than your entire wardrobe based on the brand. John has traded his suit coat for a simple one with sherpa lining. Kyle braided his hair since last time.

“Evenin’, Fancy.” John smiles warmly. The way it makes your heart flutter is utterly shameful.

“Hello.” You smile, tilting your head and setting down the tray. Same as before. Rinse and repeat. They ordered liquor this time - bourbon, you think. Maybe scotch. Same difference. “You’ve gotten me into trouble.”

“Have we, now?” John drapes an arm over the back of the booth.

“Cherry isn’t exactly happy.” You fake pout as you hand out the glasses. “Thinks I did something salacious to steal you away.”

“How do you know you didn’t?” John gives you a once over. Blue eyes dragging down every curve and angle of your body.

“I suppose I don’t.” You sigh. “Nothing in my right mind, though.”

“Sorry about that, love. It’s for your own good.”

“Right.” The only thing more powerful than plausible deniability is actual deniability. “Can I get you anything else?”

“Can get yer pretty little arse over here.” Johnny grabs you by the waist, setting you down in his lap. You gasp at the sudden motion, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders for balance.

“I think ‘little’ is a bit of a misnomer, there, hun.” You snicker.

“Aye, as it should be.” His hand wanders to pinch your hip.

“You’re a dog, Mr. MacTavish.”

“Och, ye wound me, lass.”

You glance over at Simon briefly, eyes meeting his. He tilts his head forward. Those dark eyes hold no less intensity than before. They take you in like they want to eat you whole. He probably does.

John must signal him - a nod or a curl of finger - because you’re being passed into the center of the booth again and set right up at John’s side. Vampire covens are simple things. Strong hierarchies that are rarely challenged unless a leader falls or fails spectacularly.

Top dog gets the chew toy.

“I like the change of attire.” You smile, tugging at the soft sherpa of his coat.

“Suits not your style?”

“They’re nice… I see so many of them, though.” You lean into his side, letting your head fall back on his shoulder. “Besides, this fits you better, I think. Matches the beard.”

You let your hand venture up to trace along his jaw, reveling in the gentle scratch of his beard. It’s pleasant. Well cared for. You briefly wonder what his budget for beard products is. He leans into the touch. You’ve always wondered how you to feel to them. Is it a gentle warmth or a scorching flame? Either way, they never seem to mind.

“You boys planning on talking business tonight?” You tilt your head.

“Ah, not tonight.” He chuckles, taking your hand and pressing a light kiss to the back of it. “Tonight is purely about rest and relaxation. Need it after the week we’ve had.”

Somehow the other three manage to melt into the background. You might not know much - if anything - about him, but John Price is the type of man to fill a room all on his own. You felt that the first time you saw him.

“I can certainly help with that.” You grin, letting your hand trail up his thigh. You move slowly, waiting to see how he reacts, and go to hook a leg across his lap to straddle him.

To your surprise, he just grabs your waist and sets you back into your seat. “Don’t need to do all that, luv. Just talk with us.”

Part of you wants to laugh. There’s no way guys like this are the lonely, chatty type. But then, as you take in his face, you can see the exhaustion in his eyes. Vampires don’t get bags under their eyes or stress lines, but it still shows. Still swirls in their irises so distinctly.

“Wanted to pick your brain about somethin’, actually.” John sighs, taking a slow sip from his drink.

You scoff. “Me?”

“You’re a smart girl.”

“Am I?” You can’t help but laugh. “What, you need help picking out some lingerie for your mistress?”

John rolls his eyes at you. Kyle chuckles behind him. They’re far more quiet than last time. At least, the little bit you remember form last time.

“Our company has had some recent… expansions.” John mulls his words over carefully, which sets of alarm bells in the back of your mind. “We want to take the opportunity to do something for the lower city.”

“Why?” You spit far too honestly - involuntarily dropping the facade of an escort. What are they doing to pull this out of you? Is it compulsion?

Just as John opens his mouth to answer you, a phone rings. Loud and piercing through the tension in the air. Simon sighs loudly and answers, speaking so low you aren’t sure if he’s speaking at all. All eyes are trained on him. Except yours. You look around at the strain in their faces. The dread.

Simon grunts something before hanging up. “We’ve got a problem.”

“What kind of problem?” John demands.

“The kind we can’t leave til’ tomorrow.”

There’s a collective groan throughout the room. Johnny looks like he wants to smash the closest thing he could find.

“Fuckin’ hell…Sorry, darling. Looks like we’ll have to resume this another time.” John sighs loudly and takes your hand to help pull you from the booth. He pauses with you off to the side - glancing over his shoulder and nodding to the others as they pass through the curtain before turning back to you. “Can I trouble you for a kiss at least? To tide me over?”

“Always.” Once again, the response is far too automatic for your liking. Then again, there are worse things than happily kissing a good looking man. Even if he is what he is.

John chuckles. It’s low and rich and causes you to lean forward despite yourself. Sometimes you forget just how alluring they’re built to be. Made to draw you in. An angler fish. John leans forward to meet you, still holding your hand in his. His lips are cool, a little rough but also gentle. There’s a hint of almost desperation in the way he pushes closer before who you can only assume is Simon clears his throat.

“Pay for a full night plus tip - as an apology for leaving so suddenly. Take the rest of the night, dove.” John smiles down at you and presses another tied roll of cash into your palm. “Don’t want my favorite girl having to scrape by for tips after we leave. Bad look, that.”

“T-thanks…” You murmur, keeping your eyes locked on him. Almost afraid to look down at the amount in your hand. There’s a heft to it that you both appreciate and are terrified of.

John pats your hand and leans forward to place a rather chaste kiss on your cheek before disappearing out the curtain just like that first time.

You’re not sure how much more unbridled tenderness you can handle.

~~~

It’s not even a full week before they’re back. This time, it’s just Kyle and Johnny who greet you on the other side of the curtain. That fact should relax you - not having to focus your attention on so many men should make it easier. Instead, it feels foreboding after the way they left last time. It makes your shoulders tense.

Why are you worried about John? A little voice in the back of your head questions. Why are you worried about a fucking vamp?

“Hello.” You murmur, setting the usual tray on the table seemingly in slow motion. “Just the two of you today?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed.” Kyle grins. “We’re more than enough company.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” You hum, passing out their drinks and sliding into the curved booth to get between them.

“Nothing to cure a shit week like blowin’ off a little steam with a pretty woman.” Kyle tucks a strand of hair behind your ear, his other hand coming to rest on your thigh. Dogs without their leashes.

You hum. “Work got you down? You had that ‘problem’ last time.”

“Och, aye. Been a right bitch lately.” Johnny groans, tilting his head back and slinging an arm around your shoulders on the back of the booth. “At least we got that one bit sorted.”

“It was your own damn fault.” Kyle scoffs at him.

“Oi. Maybe if you payed attention to who-“

Kyle grabs Johnny’s lips, pinching them shut. “Price said not in front of the girl.”

You glance between them. The last thing you need is to be sat in the middle of a vampire brawl. Goodbye mortal plane if so.

That seems to be enough to get Johnny to drop it, opting to throw back his drink in one fell swoop and scoot in closer to you, strong arm looping around your waist.

Kyle’s hands trace down over your shoulders. “You’re a fuckin’ luxury, baby girl.”

“Can I have a kiss, hen?” Johnny leans close, fingers tracing your jaw.

Your lip quirks up. “Can you afford a kiss? Seeing as I’m such a luxury, apparently.”

It’s Kyle who moves next - pulling you fully into his lap and pushing you further into Johnny. “We can afford much more than that, love.”

The tip of a fang grazes your neck. It’s slow, gentile, not nearly enough to break the skin. Not quite a threat.

A promise.

It’s barely a hair of movement. A slight tilt, a minute lean and your lips press against Johnny’s. His lips are cold but softer than you expected. Your hands find his shoulders, his tongue darts across your lower lip and you part for him. A well memorized dance. Kyle’s hands drag up your hips to rest on your waist, holding you in place between them.

“D’you have any idea how good you smell?” Kyle murmurs in your ear.

“Or taste.” Johnny sighs into your lips. You pull back, snickering and wiping your lipstick off his lips. He has the prettiest, dopiest smile you’ve ever seen.

“Come home with us?” Kyle asks, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “We’ll take such good care of you.”

“You just got here.” You murmur.

“An’ now we’re askin’ if ye’d like tae come home with us.” Johnny grins.

You tilt your head back, debating on how to ask about pay. It’s a question that needs to be asked, but a sensitive one at the same time. You don’t want to offend, but you don’t want to end up walking away from their home empty handed. Just as you go to open your mouth and subtly talk rates, you’re cut off.

“How’s 5k sound, lovie?” Kyle murmurs. Are they fucking mind readers?

You pray they don’t notice the way you choke briefly, body tensing for a fraction of a second. Holy shit. Holy fucking shit! That’s more than twice what you make in month.

“I’ll take that bewildered stare as a yes.” He laughs, moving a hand from your waist to knead at your hip.

They call a car. You don’t have to explain where you’re going to anyone - being pressed between them is enough. It used to be a little shameful for you to walk out on a man’s arm for the whole club to see. When you were young and not quite so resigned to the state of the world - when you hadn’t quite realized that the only god you should care for is green and made of paper. These days you couldn’t care less. They all know, and they’re all taking part in the same debauchery (or jealous that they can’t afford to.) It’s all goods and services, at the end of the day.

Johnny wastes no time pulling you into his lap as soon as you climb into the car - a massive, black SUV that still smells brand new. At least the seats are soft on your knees as you hover over his lap.

“No, no, full weight on me, bonnie.” He grabs your hips and pushes you to sit on his thighs. “Tha’s it.”

His hand disappears under your skirt, two fingers tracing up your sex through the thin cloth of your underwear. Messily grinding while placing sloppy, open mouth kisses along your neck and shoulder. You gasp and whine as he presses against your clit. Just enough to tease, always moving away before you can properly grind down on him. Fucking tease. Kyle watches with an appreciative grin lazily spread across his face.

Your eyes widen to saucers as you pull up to the building. One of the biggest residential skyscrapers in the city. A glowing paragon. One of only five you can see at all times from any part of the city. You’re pretty sure, if you could get to the top, that you would be able to point out your apartment. If you could see it through the smog, that is.

Kyle pins you to the wall of the elevator, lips intertwined with yours and a hand twisted in your hair. Yours knot into the material of his coat. He tastes like liquor and something you can’t quite place. Something sweeter than candy and far more satisfying.

You glance over his shoulder at Johnny just as the man readjusts his pants. He grins, keeping his hand there to palm himself as soon as he catches your eye.

Cheeky bastard.

The elevator stops so gently you might have missed it if not for the dinging and the doors parting. Kyle pulls you out into a small foyer while Johnny fumbles for a keycard.

You think you might have a heart attack when they slip you through one of the two massive front doors. It has to take up the entire floor - or at least most of it. There’s a whole pool on the right side of the balcony. An area that looks like a greenhouse mirrors it to the left. Floor to ceiling windows allow you to see the faux stars so clearly up here.

“Do you all live here?” You ask quietly, staring around the massive penthouse.

The decor is simple. Dark, heavy woods and expensive, rich toned fabrics. It doesn’t have that sterile air that so many vampire homes have. It looks lived in. Used. Even with the obviously untouched kitchen. To this day you don’t understand why vampire homes have them at all. A formality, you suppose.

Johnny nods. “Och, aye, but John and Si are… workin’.”

You decide it’s probably smartest not to pry into whatever “work” means. “So, the mice will play while the cats are away?”

“Somethin’ like that.” Kyle nods, a little smirk playing across his face.

You glance away, debating on asking a possibly invasive question. You can’t ever be too careful with the hierarchy of covens. “And John doesn’t mind you… having me first?”

They blink at you for a moment before bursting out laughing. Your face heats. It makes you feel childish, as if you asked a stupid question. It’s not a stupid question. It’s perfectly valid! At least thats what you’ve heard from other working girls…

“Oh, no, doll. He doesn’t care.” Kyle grins and hooks an arm around your shoulders.

“Might be a bit miffed he wasnae here tae join in on the fun but he’s not jealous like tha’.” Johnny mimics him with an arm around your waist as they pull you to the side.

The two exchange a look briefly with grins plastered across their faces before turning you to the right and leading you down a short hallway. A large, wooden door opens into a bedroom that could swallow your apartment whole. The decor is a bit chaotic - clothes lay across the floor leading to the bathroom and two walls are covered from the floor to halfway up with drawings and paintings.

You know what you’re here for but you can’t help wandering over to them and staring. They’re so intricate. Every detail rendered perfectly. Some are from the city, others are from far away places you aren’t sure exist anymore. A few portraits of the boys here and there and some other people you don’t know. A sketch of a man with scars littering his strong face catches your eye.

“Whose are these?” You ask in a hushed whisper, as if speaking too loudly will disrupt them.

“Ah, mine.” Johnny saunters up behind you, hands resting on your broad hips.

“They’re beautiful…” You’ve only seen art like this in the museums you visited in school.

“Could do one of ye. Ye’d make a bonnie portrait.” He murmurs, pressing his cheek to yours.

Your gut reaction is to say yes. Is that how you want to be remembered, though? Just another face only immortalized on some creature’s wall. A nameless face from eras gone by. Would he write your name down? Would they remember you in a hundred years? In fifty years? In ten, even?

You settle on a gentle “Maybe.”

Johnny takes the hint, turning you toward the bed where Kyle is already leaned. “Gonnae tear a hole in my damn pants if we donnae get a move on.”

The bed is huge, to say the least. Circular and outfitted with layers upon layers of soft pillows and probably the highest thread count sheets you’ve ever seen. It’s unmade, the comforter falling halfway off one side of it. Not that you need it for what’s to come.

Johnny kneels behind you as soon as you step between Kyle’s legs where he’s sat on the bed. Deft hands unbuckle the straps of your heels. Little nips and kisses trail up your thighs. Kyle reaches around you and presses his lips to yours - so softly - before carefully pulling down the zipper of your dress.

It’s so easy to let them take charge. To be a doll for them to do as they please. There are worse things in life than being delicately undressed by two handsome (and well paying) men. Their hands are far more gentle than you expected while they strip you, muttering little appreciative hums and compliments so low that you almost miss them. You stand bare before them, letting them take you in. Hands and eyes roaming. Johnny presses a sweet kiss to your cunt before standing, sending a little jolt up your spine.

He grins like he won some game you didn’t even know you were playing.

You turn to carefully peel off Johnny’s shirt. Your lip catches in your teeth as you run your hands over hard muscle and through a layer of thick, downy hair that leads to the waistband of his pants. So distracted by the sight before you that you don’t notice Kyle pressing against your back, locking you between them as they kiss above you. A shiver runs through you as you watch their jaws flex and hands grapple for one another.

Fucking Christ.

Sometimes you forget how good it is to fuck people you’re actually attracted to. Even if they are paying customers the same as the rest.

An unceremonious squeak escapes you when you’re suddenly flung onto the bed. Not hard enough to hurt but enough to bounce until Johnny appears on top of you, fingers pinching at the soft fat on your sides and laving at your neck with a cool tongue. He keeps his teeth out of the way as he moves down your body to take your nipple between his lips. Much appreciated.

“Need a taste, bonnie. Ye smell so good. So sweet.” Johnny whines, kneeling between your legs. You watch him lower himself slowly as Kyle slots in behind you, shirt long forgone and hands tracing up your sides to knead at your breasts.

As much as you want to pout at not getting to see Kyle undress, you can’t focus on much other than Johnny’s mouth diving into you. Your instinct is to close your legs at the sudden onslaught, but Johnny’s hands keep them solidly in place - spread wide and hooked around his arms.

“Fuck.” You gasp, head tilting back onto Kyle’s shoulder. Your hand wanders down, carding through Johnny’s mo-hawk. He places a harsh suck to your clit and your fingers tighten around the hair at the base of his neck involuntarily pushing him further into you.

You expect him to be upset, for a brief moment, that you’ve been too rough with him. Took too much charge. Instead he just keens desperately against you, picking up the pace - devouring you like a man starved.

“C-Christ, Johnny!” You gasp, fingers digging further into his scalp and the sheets.

“He likes it when you’re mean t’him.” Kyle murmurs in your ear. “Got him fuckin’ pussy drunk already.”

You roll your hips down onto his tongue as he flattens it against you, grinding his face into your pussy. He shifts, never breaking contact, and slips two thick fingers inside you. You whine, eyes screwed shut as you ride it out. Kyle grabs your chin, tilting you back into a kiss. All it takes is Johnny curling his fingers to send you toppling over the edge, back arching sharply.

Johnny rears back onto his haunches just as you peel your eyes back open, chin slick and shiny. His hands desperately pull at his belt and fly. “Cannae take it anymore.”

Kyle chuckles, smiling down at you. “You’d think after two centuries he’d learn a little patience.”

You smile back, quip dying in your throat as Johnny grinds his uncut cock between your folds - coating it in your slick. Fuck, he’s thick - punching every bit of air in your lungs as he pushes in.

“So fuckin’ warm.” He moans, brow furrowed and lips parted.

Lord help you, he’s beautiful. Even beyond that statuesque perfection all vampires have, he must have been gorgeous in life. Kyle is too, you realize as you tilt your head back to kiss him. You wonder what they would look like with ruddy cheeks - with faces warm as yours is. If Johnny would blush all the way down to his chest. If they tanned. Burnt. Freckled. Ran warm or cold. All the little differences that come with a beating heart.

All thoughts disappear at once as Johnny rolls his hips into you. You gasp, “Please.”

That’s all he needs, apparently, setting a brutal pace off the bat. Pushing you back into Kyle with every thrust with enough force that your teeth nearly knock together. Kyle’s fingers continue to pluck at your nipples. You can feel his still clothed cock pressing against your back, hips twitching at the brief friction.

“Fuck. Alright.” Kyle grunts, moving from behind you - leaving you flopping back on the bed with your hands fisting the sheets. You can hear his belt coming undone but can’t bring yourself to focus on it with Johnny relentlessly pumping into you. That is until Kyle taps the head of his cock against your lips, kneeling beside you.

He’s pretty. Not as thick as Johnny but perfectly proportioned. He doesn’t even have to ask or press forward, you want it between your lips. Seek it out. It’s cool on your tongue, calming under the relentlessness that is Johnny.

“Been tae long since we had somethin’ so nice an’ soft in our bed.” Johnny whines. As if that fact genuinely pains him.

Kyle hums in agreement, taking his time fucking into your mouth. “That it has.”

He reaches over to grab Johnny by the back of the neck, pulling him until their lips crash together. Johnny’s hands tighten where they hold you and Kyle’s pace picks up.

“Fuck, she likes tha’.” Johnny pulls back just enough to speak. “Clenchin’ down on me.”

All you can manage is a whine in response - body on fire. Every nerve feels like it’s pulsing, the whole of you utterly consumed by them. Johnny lifts your hips off the bed, arching your back so that he can fuck up into you. The new angle leaves you desperately moaning. Practically singing around Kyle’s cock as your climax hits you like a train. Rocking through you and tensing every muscle.

“Thassit, love, doin’ so good f’us.” Kyle cards his fingers through your hair. It’s strangely gentle, considering the way his cock now bullies the back of your throat while Johnny’s ruts against your g-spot. “How’s she feel, Johnny?”

The man in question just babbles incoherently, fingers digging into your wide hips enough that they’ll surely bruise. At least he’s aware enough not to crush you entirely. Kyle chuckles at him, the sound cutting off in a moan as you angle to take him deeper and wrap your hand around the length you can’t take.

“G-gonnae cum.” Johnny stutters, rhythm faltering and becoming more shallow as he approaches the edge. He pulls out with a choked groan, fucking his fist as he spills onto your thigh.

Kyle mercifully pulls away, letting you gasp for air. Your voice will be raw tomorrow, but fuck if it isn’t worth it when you’re getting fucked like that.

Johnny sighs, collapsing on his back. “Gi’ me a minute…”

“Gettin’ old, Johnny?” Kyle quips.

“Feck off.” He grunts, turning to look at you as you catch your breath. You can’t quite interpret the look in his eyes - whatever it may be - before Kyle is lifting you up at the waist.

“C’mere, love.” Kyle pulls you, sitting back on his haunches and turning your back to him. Your legs tremble uselessly, but he doesn’t seem to mind as he moves you into place. He doesn’t waste time sitting you on his cock. Kyle isn’t as rough as Johnny, taking his time with lifting off and dropping you onto his cock. A slow motion of your hips while his hands squeeze the soft layer over your waist.

“Fuck, Kyle…” You sigh, head lolling against his shoulder.

“Y’like that, baby?” He murmurs, kissing up your shoulder and neck. One hand moves from your waist to travel up the valley of your breasts. It doesn’t quite wrap around your throat, just rests at the base of it - index finger hooking into your necklace.

It’s a leisurely roll of your hips against each other. A break from the brutal pace before. He’s not desperate like Johnny - instead taking his time whispering sweet nothings and dirty words into your ear. Movements slow and easy.

You think, for a moment, that this is the closest you’ve ever been to “making love.”

Then again, maybe you’re just cock drunk.

You don’t notice Johnny getting up until he’s in front of you, hands on your thighs and lips crashing against yours. Already hard and leaking again after only a handful of minutes. Even for a vampire, that’s pretty damn impressive.

“Bonnie, please.” He moans into your mouth. Cool hands take yours and wrap them around his cock, setting a rhythm to match Kyle’s thrusts into you. “Yer fuckin’ perfect.”

It’s overwhelming. Kyle’s hands roam over your body as you bounce on his cock, draping himself over your back and nipping at your ear. Johnny’s tongue continues to explore every part of your mouth as he thrusts desperately into your hands. His fingers slip down to your clit, moving in leisurely circles that have you bucking forward into him.

“Gonna cum f’me, pretty girl?” Kyle groans into your ear. “Chokin’ my fuckin’, cock.”

You whine against Johnny’s lips, eyes screwed shut. He’s close again, pace quickening. His fingers roughly grind against your over sensitive clit. Someone is chanting, begging, and it takes longer than it should to realize it’s you. “Please, please, just - fuck - I can’t - fucking Christ-“

“Thassit, thassit, fuckin’ hell look at y’two.” Kyle pants, bottoming out with every thrust.

You cum with a choked cry, falling forward against Johnny as he coats your hands and moans. Kyle isn’t far behind, painting your back with a pretty, low groan and a jumble of praises for you and Johnny alike.

Your body feels like jelly, limbs trembling and weight leaned entirely against Johnny. He coos at you and soothes down your hair. A strong arm wraps around your shoulders to steady you. Kyle comes back with a warm rag - when he left, you’re not sure - gently wiping you down with a an unfamiliar level of care.

“I can do it.” You reach for the cloth.

“No, no, love.” He says gently, taking your hands and carefully cleaning them off with precision. He stops to rub the back of your hand with his thumb, something unreadable and warm behind his eyes.

“Drink this.” Johnny holds out a glass to you. When did he even get that?

“Tap water?” You frown slightly, looking him up and down.

“What’s wrong with tap?” He snorts. Oh. Right. Upper city.

“Thanks.” You murmur, chugging it greedily. The physical exhaustion begins to creep up your bones, your legs already practically useless. Keeping up with vampires is a young man’s game and you’re just starting to see the signs of aging out. “I better g-“

“Better lay down.” Kyle cuts you off, taking the glass and pushing your shoulders to lay flat on the bed.

You chew your lip. You don’t usually stay at client’s homes overnight. Then again… the sheets seem to envelope you in a cool cocoon. Calming on your too-hot skin and tired muscles. Muscles that do not want to walk all the way to the train depot. Besides, Johnny and Kyle have been so nice. If they want you to spend then night then what’s the harm, right? You’ll just sneak out in the morning.

So, you let them crawl into the bed bracketing you on either side. Johnny’s arm slings over your waist, cool breath puffing against the back of your neck. Kyle lays in front of you, placing small kisses across your face before pulling the comforter over the three of you.

There are worse fates than sleeping with two handsome men on high thread count sheets for a night…

You wake shivering violently. Between the cold air and Johnny and Kyle’s cool skin you feel like an icicle. Your throat burns and you croak out a groan as you try to sit up. Kyle was rougher than you’d realized in the moment. Johnny has your back pinned against his chest with a strong arm thrown around your waist, not even breathing. It’s so easy to forget that they don’t have to. Kyle truly looks like a statue like this. Entirely still, solid as marble and just as perfect.

You sigh, quietly and carefully wiggling your way off the bed. You don’t pay attention to whose clothes you grab - some tshirt that’s more fitted than you’d like but covers enough to get the job done. You hiss at the slight creak of the door. Neither Johnny nor Kyle stir. If they woke up, they don’t react to you padding out to the main house.

That first door across the hall is slightly ajar, a low stream of cool toned light pooling in the floor just below it. Against your better judgement, you stop, looking around before peeking inside. Not that you can make out much other than a large bed with a dark canopy pulled closed around it. The rest of the room looks barren - the only source of light coming from what you assume to be an attached bathroom.

“Lookin’ f’somethin’?” A baritone voice grunts behind you. You squeak quietly, whirling on your heel and coming face to face with Simon. Well, face to chest considering his sheer height.

“Sorry!” You croak, voice still hoarse. “I didn’t mean- I-“

“S’fine.” The corners of his eyes crinkle in amusement. You hope it’s amusement, at least. “Need somethin’?”

“J-just getting some water.. sorry to bother you-“ You begin backing away, giving him a wide birth as you step toward the kitchen. Even without inhuman strength you fully believe this man could snap you in two.

“Come on, then.” He nods toward the kitchen, stepping in front of you. You nearly protest, but opt to just follow. He already caught you snooping at best - at worst he thinks you were planning to steal. If letting him accompany you keeps you alive and out of trouble with them then you’ll gladly trail behind this behemoth of a man.

You pause by the kitchen island as Simon goes to grab… a mug? You watch him fill an electric kettle and flick it on, digging through the cabinet to produce a small packet. A tea bag labeled Honey Vanilla Chamomile.

“Y-you don’t have to-“

“How’d our boys treat you?” Simon asks as he opens the little packet with deft fingers - oddly precise for the size of them.

“Good.” You blurt, hands wringing as you shift your weight side to side.

“Johnny behave himself?”

“The picture of civility.” You snort. If leaving bruises on your hips from fucking you six ways to Sunday counts as civil.

Simon chuckles but doesn’t say anything else. Just puts together a little mug of tea for you, stirring and steeping perfectly before pushing the thing across the counter. You take it slowly, eyeing him. Waiting for some sort of tell that you shouldn’t drink this. Then another shiver runs down your spine and you grab the warm cup happily.

“Should get a heating system put in…” Simon grumbles under his breath, looking around the apartment. You wonder just how much more he can see than you in the near pitch black environment.

“Why?” You snort. “You don’t need it.”

“You do.”

You blink at him rather stupidly - brain too tired and muddled to make sense of whatever that might mean. Probably just means humans in general. They probably have plenty of women and men over on a regular basis. Even if it is just for the night. Oddly considerate, either way.

“What’s the deal with the mask?” You blurt again, the slight lapse of silence putting you on edge.

Simon just shakes his head. “To ‘ide my face.”

“Booooring!” You boo, throwing out a dramatic thumbs down. To your surprise, you’re not met with annoyance. Just a deep chuckle and another shake of his head. “Thanks for the tea.”

Simon nods and snags the now empty mug from you. You chugged it far faster than you realized. It worked, too. Your voice isn’t as hoarse and your throat doesn’t sting when you swallow.

“I should probably…” You murmur, looking back toward the room where Johnny and Kyle are assumably still sleeping away.

Simon grunts in agreement, following you back to his own door. You don’t know what possesses you to stop beside him. To turn and meet his gaze with far less confidence than you’re used to wielding. You owe him for the tea, though.

“Do you want…uh…” You murmur, glancing into the room behind him.

Simon looks from you to the bed behind him - only to turn back with those smile lines forming in the corners of his eyes once again. “Not tonight, pretty girl. You’ve ‘ad enough.”

You jump involuntarily when his large hand cups your cheek - thumb caressing ever to gently over your cheekbone. Maybe it’s the exhaustion, maybe it’s the fact that non-sexual touches are so rare in your life, but either way you find yourself tilting into it. Just a little.

“Sleep well, sweet’eart.” With that he steps into his room, shutting the door with near deathly silence behind him.

Oh.

Okay.

You stare at his closed door for a few seconds too long, a slight furrow in your brow before turning back to Johnny’s room. The two of them haven’t moved much since you left, though Johnny has somehow ended up spread eagle across most of the bed. With some gentle maneuvering you manage to curl up in the crook of his outstretched arm with your head on his chest and back pressed against Kyle’s.

These men are going to be the death of you.

A/N: I wanted to put more into this chapter but I had to draw the line somewhere so it’s going to just have to get pushed to the next one.

Part of me was worried they’re fucking too early but then I remembered I can do what I want🫡

[animasola86]

🐇 DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE

m!vampire x f!reader 🔥 very explicit 🔥 words: 11k

It was a dark night, you tried to hurry home, past the cemetery, when you were suddenly abducted, not that you remember any of that. You wake up in a cage, naked and vulnerable, and a man approaches you, calling you "bunny". Turns out you're his pet now. So welcome to your new life. I hope you're ready to take on your three new masters?

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Abduction! Dubcon! Mind control! Vampires! Group sex! Petplay! Cages/Collars! Size difference! Oral/anal/vaginal sex! Biting! (READ ON AO3!)

A/N: The prompt was "petplay, group sex, abduction, vampires, f/m" - and of course I couldn't just write about that alone, so I added a lot more kinks. This also marks the first time properly writing monsterfucker smut. I'm still new to the genre, so forgive me if my vampire lore is a little rusty. Hope you enjoy this silly little smut story nonetheless!

Alternative title: Down the Rabbit('s) Hole(s)

You wake up to strange noises. There's the thumping of music, but it's muffled, as if through various walls. Then there are sounds much, much closer... Wet sounds you cannot quite place. You may even hear sighs and slurping, rhythmic slapping that causes goosebumps to pebble your skin. Your naked skin as you realize.

Slowly you come to, your eyelids fluttering. It's dark, but not quite. There's candle light bouncing off the stone walls, shadows dancing in sickening rhythms. You blink slowly, trying to focus your eyes. Your head feels heavy, filled with cotton or stones, you can't be sure. Your body aches, and as you try to move, you can't. Feet and elbows and shoulders and the top of your head push against sturdy metal bars. Your heart beats faster, blood rushing through your veins as panic settles into your shaking limbs. You are in a cage.

A whimper escapes you as you grip the metal rods and push and pull and rattle them, trying to get out. You are on your knees, on some sort of cushion, but that's the only comfort around. You are completely naked, except for a thick leather band wrapped around your neck. A collar. Your hair is made up into two tight buns on the top of your head, some loose strands tickling your nape. Your breaths are frantic.

Where am I? What happened?

You can barely remember anything. It's been dark, you were walking home. Past the cemetery? Probably, it's the shortest route. You have been hurrying along, feeling as if something has been watching you. And then... You blink as you try to remember, but the memory is fleeting, dissolving as you try to grab it, like smoke evaporating between your fingers. Your heartbeat accelerates, hysteria making your lips tremble as your face tingles awfully.

“Oh listen to these sweet sounds,” comes a deep voice from somewhere behind you. You twist in your cage, but you cannot see anything, you can't move, can't even turn your head properly. “Badum, badum, badum, almost as fast as a real rabbit's heart. You are perfect for this, hmm, aren't you, little bunny?”

A big shadow moves around the cage, and you gasp when a man crouches down in front of it, looking at you with a crooked smirk. You jolt away from the bars, but only hit your head, making you feel even more dizzy.

“Shh, easy now, pet, everything is alright,” he coos, tilting his head, extending a hand with unusually pointy fingernails. You stare at him, frightened out of your mind. His long fingers come closer, but you can't back away any further in your confinement, and when they close around your chin, you yelp helplessly. “No need to be afraid.”

He pulls you to the front of the cage, and even though you protest, putting your whole body against the motion, and strain your neck, struggling with all you have left, he does so with ease, the grip strong and powerful. Your face ends up pressed to the bars, allowing you a closer look at the stranger. He's...

You blink, frowning in confusion. He's so handsome. You don't know why you expected the man who kept you in a cage to look ugly or foul, but he doesn't. He has a fair face, very pale, no facial hair, smooth skin, dark eyes that seem to gleam a little, perfectly angled eyebrows that are still thick and masculine. That smirk on his lips mesmerizes you. Then he parts them, his tongue slipping out to wet his upper lip, and when it retreats, you see the hint of white teeth, straight and... are those fangs?

His smile widens as he notices how you're staring at his mouth. And yes, those are fangs, pointy sharp canines, glinting in the dim light. You gasp, trying to back away but he still holds your chin. “Shh,” he makes, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip. “No need to panic.” His voice is soothing, low and gentle, vibrating through you, feeding the heat pulsing inside you.

“Who are you?” you whisper, not sure why that is the first question that slips past your quivering lips. Where am I? What is going on? Why am I naked? Why am I in a cage? What are these noises all around me? What are you planning to do with me? These questions fade into the back of your mind as you keep staring at the handsome man.

He clicks his tongue, tilting his head, slowly pushing his thumb between your lips to silence you. “That doesn't need to concern you,” he whispers. “I don't matter, you don't matter. But for the sake of names, you can call me Master. And you, my little bunny, are my newest pet.”

You frown at him, unconsciously pressing your tongue against his invading thumb, to push it away or to feel more of it, you can't be sure. “M'not a bu-” you try to say past his digit, but he shakes his head, pushing it deeper.

“Shh, yes, you are. You are my bunny and I will play with you tonight, and all the nights to come,” he says softly, pumping his thumb in and out of your mouth, and all you can do is strain your lips around it and let him as you hold his gaze. The longer you stare into his dark eyes, the calmer you become, the heavier your body feels, the less thoughts course through your mind. You even start sucking on his thumb, hollowing your cheeks, flicking your tongue around it. As if it would be the most normal thing to do in this situation.

He smiles at you, his other hand moving along the edge of the cage before the door jumps open with a rusty squeak. His thumb is gone, and you feel confused, blinking, and he uses that confusion to pull you out of the cage. His hand is heavy on your shoulder, keeping you from getting to your feet, so you end up on your hands and knees beside him, craning your neck to look at him. It's then that you finally see the rest of the dimly-lit room.

The shadows you saw earlier belong to various figures, other men sitting on couches and armchairs and stools, and draped around them, sitting on their laps, bent over before them, suspended in the air, are other girls, naked like you, and they're wearing collars and masks, animal masks, you see cats and dogs, bunnies and foxes, even pigs and cows, and the noises that come from them make you feel quite uneasy.

It's a wild mixture of moans and whimpers, some barking and mewling, oinks and moos, a strange cacophony of sounds as they are forced to entertain the other men.

You see two men spitroasting a cat girl, her ear headband flopping back and forth wildly as she takes one cock deep into her throat as another pounds into her sloppy pussy, and the man behind her is gripping the tail stuck in her butt, while spanking her ass cheek with the other hand.

Right next to them is a girl in a cow mask, suspended in the air by ropes draped under her arms and around her elbows and knees, legs spread far apart, her large breasts bouncing up and down as she swings back and forth, getting impaled by the hard member of another man. Every time he plunges deep, she groans in a way that sounds strikingly like a moo.

In the corner of the room you see a girl squirming on a table, wrists and ankles bound to its legs, while at least four men stand around her, bent over her, faces pressed to her neck, her breasts, between her legs. There are moans and slurping sounds, and a strange metallic smell wafts towards you.

You feel sick just watching these scenes, a sniffle escaping you as you stare at the ground. Beside you the man is attaching something to the back of the collar around your neck, and before you know it, you are being dragged forward, choking slightly until you start to crawl on your hands and knees behind him. “Come on, bunny, let's join the festivities...” the man tells you, and you whimper in response, the leash pulling you straight into the dense cloud of sex noises and sex smells.

Keeping your head low, you move past various couples, and you can't tell if their whines come from pain or pleasure, and you don't want to find out either. It's you you have to worry about now, because you don't want to end up like them. But it seems you don't have much of a choice when the man suddenly grabs you under your arms and lifts you effortlessly, holding you up like one would hold a puppy or a newborn, and you stare at him, mesmerized by his dark eyes, immobile in his hold, feet dangling at least a foot above the ground.

In this slightly brighter light, you can see a red glint in his gaze, and the sight should have irritated you, along with his fangs, but you just look at him, calming down in his hold. “Oh, how beautiful,” another voice coos from the side. “What a nice catch. Well done.” A second man steps next to the one holding you up, equally handsome with a fair face and dark eyes. He looks younger though and sports a deep scar through his left eyebrow.

“She's so tiny,” a gruff voice sounds from behind you. “You sure she can handle this?” You feel hands on your waist, rubbing down your sides, long fingers closing around your shins as the man behind you pulls your legs apart for further inspection.

You feel frozen in place, trapped by a bunch of predators, a literal bunny forced into a corner. Your heart is thundering in your chest. A single tear rolls down your cheek.

“Aww, don't be scared, little bunny,” the younger man whispers, extending a hand to wipe at your cheek. You barely flinch away. “We won't harm you. We want to keep you. Unlike humans, we hunt for the future, for our entertainment, you know? We won't eat you... not like you think.” He unhooks the leash from your collar and teases your pert nipples with the cold metal, before he lets it fall to the floor and gently cups your small breasts, weighing them in his palms. “And we'll make sure you can take us...” Your eyes widen when he smiles, exposing even pointier fangs to you.

“Like I told you, you are our pet, not our food,” the man holding you says with a smirk, winking at you. “We'll keep you alive. Won't we, gentlemen?”

“Sure,” the man behind you grunts. You feel him crouching behind you, his hot breath fanning over the backs of your thighs, his hands rubbing up and down your trembling legs. “We'll try.”

The other two men give a deep laugh. “No, no, we will keep her alive,” the first man says sternly before he gently puts you down again, your bare feet hitting the cold stone below. You shiver deeply. He puts his hands on your shoulders and leans over you, tall and intimidating. “And you'll be a good bunny, won't you?” he coos. “You'll do as we say?”

His eyes hold you captive, and you find yourself nodding. “Y-yes,” you mumble as the man smiles at you, while his eyes bore into you intently. “M-master,” you add quietly, unsure where that came from.

The younger man laughs. “So obedient, I'm delighted!” he says and clasps his hands together. “Hey, you can call me Sir, while we're at it.”

“And who am I then, hm?” the man behind you grumbles. His hands move around your rear, long fingers digging into your soft flesh. You stiffen under the touch. “Master, Sir, what– oh I know,” he suddenly says, pulling you back and out of Master's grip.

He spins you around, and you find yourself staring at a broad chest, and when you look up further you see a massive man before you, wide shoulders, arms thicker than your thighs, a mountain of a man, full of muscles, but his face looks kind, older than the other two, full of lines and creases, and when he smiles at you it's more of a grimace, somehow sad, though his eyes crinkle handsomely.

“You can address me as Lord, bunny, how's that?” he says, his voice so much deeper than even Master's voice. His eyes are equally mesmerizing, and you can't help but nod again. He's seemingly happy about your reaction, and suddenly, you find yourself floating as he scoops you up and into his strong arms, pressed to his hard chest. You stare up at him, feeling a strange heat creeping into your cheeks.

Sir and Master approach you as well, their hands moving over your arms and legs, gentle, soothing caresses that make you forget everything around you, and it's for the better, you think. You still catch the occasional glimpse of a man doing unspeakable things to a young woman, but when you focus on the three men watching you, it doesn't really matter anymore.

“So, where do we take her?” Sir asks quietly, his long fingers scratching down your forearm, following the veins under your skin. “It'd be a shame to share her in such a public setting...”

Master nods, his hand slipping between your legs, fingertips pressing into the soft flesh of your inner thighs. “Shame we have to share you at all,” he tells you with a wink. “But I am a man of my word...”

You frown at him before Lord lets out a deep rumble that makes you look up at him instead. “You better be. You ruined both of our last pets, it's only fair we get a piece of your new one as well...”

The youngest of the men sighs deeply. “Ah, don't remind me. Poor little kitten... I miss her dearly.”

Another grunt escapes the large man holding you in his arms. “As if. You nearly broke her even before he got his claws on her...” he adds with a nod to Master who laughs darkly.

“Gentlemen, old news, old news. Let's not dwell on the past, let's enjoy this sweet little thing... with its thumping little heart... and the delicious blood pumping so rapidly through its soft little veins...”

You stare at the man as he curls his fingers around your thigh, his grip strong, and you feel your heartbeat throbbing in your leg where he holds you tightly. Meanwhile Sir has his hand pressed to the pulse point at your wrist, a low humming coming from deep inside his throat. It hurts how they hold you. A whimper escapes you.

Suddenly Lord's big hand swats away the other men's fingers, and you gasp as he shifts you on his arm. “We will share her,” he says in his deep voice, staring first at Master then at Sir. “Equally. Behave yourselves...”

Both men sigh and take a step back from you. Sir mimics a bow as he grins at the oldest man. “Of course, of course. Shall we go then? Before even more of us come and claim this beautiful little blood ba– I mean bunny?”

Master rolls his eyes and hits the other man's shoulder. “As I was the one who found her, we will go to my chambers. Come along then...”

You blink in utter confusion as the men start walking towards a door, leaving the noisy and smelly room and its strange inhabitants behind. Lord carries you through dark and narrow corridors, and you snuggle against his wide chest as the darkness moves in on you. Nothing but blackness, not a single light anywhere. You wonder how the men can even see where they're going.

The large man holds you protectively, and even though he seems to be the most genuine of the three, you feel his hand rub along your rear, fingers digging between your cheeks. You can't help but flinch when he pokes at your puckered hole. A low hum escapes him that silences you. Breathing a little harder, unable to control the rapid rhythm of your heart, you let him touch you as he takes you through the impenetrable darkness.

The sudden light hurts your eyes, and after the squeak of a door, you find yourself in a large bedroom. There's a big four-poster bed with a red velvety canopy and sturdy wooden frame, laden with pillows and blankets, a big fireplace next to it that's encircled by luscious looking couches and armchairs, walls lined with bookshelves. There are tapestries on the other walls, and not a single window. Despite that, it looks cozy.

The light comes from a giant chandelier hanging from the high ceiling, adorned with at least two dozen candles. It's a warm light, but you are still shivering as Lord sets you down on the floor that's covered in grand carpets and rugs. You hug your arms to your chest, for the first time really acknowledging the fact that you are completely naked – and surrounded by three men who look strangely hungry, with glinting eyes, who lick their lips and pointy teeth, their fingers itching to touch you again.

Fear creeps up your spine as you back away slightly, only to bump into Lord who stepped behind you. “Easy, pet, no need to be afraid now. There's no use trying to run away. And why would you, right?” he adds, gently cupping your face with his big hand. You stiffen as you look up at him. “We will be so gentle with you...”

You swallow hard, then yelp audibly when Sir rips Lord's hand away from your face and places his own around your neck. “Enough talk. I call dips on her throat!” he says darkly, staring at you with an intensity that makes your blood run cold.

“As usual,” Master sighs. “And you'll take her ass I assume?”

“I'm the ass guy,” Lord chimes happily, a low chuckle erupting from his throat. “Haven't found a girl yet who could take my entire cock into her little cunt... well, at least not if I wanted to keep her. The Devil bless their poor souls... But asses are so much more accommodating, wouldn't you say?”

You can only stare at him, frozen to the spot. He looks so gentle, but his words are vile, and the picture he paints in your head makes you sick to your stomach. He gives you a wink from behind Sir's shoulder.

“You could just go for the larger ones, you know?” the youngest man says, turning his head to the big man. “But no, your appetite for the petite is unrivaled around here. At least they still made for a good meal after you broke them...”

You shudder deeply, goosebumps rippling over your skin. “Stop your blabbering, gentlemen,” Master sighs and pushes Sir away. His hands find your shoulders as he leans down to you with a soft smile. “Don't listen to them. We won't harm you, we told you, and we... can be trusted, little bunny, I swear on my own grave!”

A series of rough laughter echoes through the vast room. You blink at him, mouth falling open, mind racing. You're too numb to panic anymore, but you are still too far from being calm. Not even those dark eyes can help you now. And surprisingly enough, it's not their lewd sex talk and the prospect of being violated that twists your insides, not entirely at least, it's a different realization that may come a little too late.

“Y-you... you're...” you start, your voice feeble and thin, your whole body tensing up as you try to make sense of it all. “You're... vampires...” Images of men bending over girls flood your mind, those slurping sounds, the stench of blood, little hints here and there...

“Not the sharpest tool in the shed, is she?” Sir chimes in with a smirk, watching you closely as he drags his tongue over his pointy canines.

“She's just a bit slow. Must be the shock,” Lord adds, crossing his big arms over his chest. “Don't worry your pretty head, bunny. No more thinking, okay?”

“B-but...”

Master shakes his head, cutting you off with a smile. “Shh, I told you that doesn't have to concern you. None of it matters anymore, bunny dearest. You are ours now, and who we are is not important. Be a good pet now, won't you?”

His words sink into your muddled brain, and you don't even protest as he pushes you gently to the ground until you kneel before them, hands folded on your lap, neck strained to look up at the three men. They are all intimidatingly tall, Lord is twice as wide as Sir, probably twice as old as well, though the latter is still muscular despite his lean body and probably strong enough to do unspeakable things to you. Master is right in the middle of the other two, with big arms but narrow hips, and his strength you've already experienced.

“Pray tell, pet, have you ever had a cock in your mouth?” the youngest addresses you, and you blush deeply, averting your eyes.

“No,” you whisper breathlessly.

“Oh?” comes the surprised reply. “Okay, well, how about a cock in your cunt, hm?”

You clear your throat. “Mhm,” you make, still too embarrassed to look at them.

“Mhm what? Yes or no?”

“Yes,” you gasp out quickly.

“Aww, not a virgin anymore? Too bad...” Sir sighs, nudging Master into the side. “You're losing your touch, eh?”

“You try finding a virgin in these modern times,” the other man replies with a grunt. “If they don't fuck as soon as they hit puberty, then they shove whatever item they can find into their young pussies, deflowering themselves. But it's not about the body, it's about the mind, isn't that so, bunny?”

You stare at him, frowning deeply.

“I bet you never had a real man. Maybe some stud at a party or a clumsy boyfriend trying to find the right hole?” He laughs darkly. “I don't think you experimented with yourself much, hm?”

The sudden clink of a belt being unbuckled catches your attention, and you look towards Lord instead of answering Master's question. The oldest man is in the middle of pulling his cock out of his pants, and your eyes widen at the sight. Their earlier talks make much more sense now. His dick is huge! Not even fully hard, it was as long as your forearm and probably a lot thicker too.

“Enough with the chitchat,” he groans, his big hand closing around his length before he gives himself some hard strokes. “Let's get to the point. Your job is to service us, pet, you get it? You do as we tell you. You either suck our cocks or let us fuck you with them. As easy as that. No complaining, no screaming for help or whatever, you just obey, understood?”

You swallow hard, feeling tears burning under your lashes. “Y-yes, Lord,” you manage to croak out as your throat tightens.

Sir takes a step towards you, his hands also in the process of opening his pants. “Don't get intimidated, bunny, you'll be surprised what your body is capable of,” he tells you with a strangely soft voice as he grabs your chin and guides your head to his crotch. “Now get to work.”

You stare up at him, vehemently trying to ignore the appendage springing free as he pushes his pants and underwear down. It's not as big as Lord's, but still very daunting.

“Open your mouth, pet,” he tells you sternly, and you find yourself obeying, lips parting, tongue lolling out, as he pulls you closer by your chin, the tip of his cock pushing between your lips. A whimper escapes you as he rolls his hips forward a little. All you can feel and taste and smell is him, and even though it's a sweet mixture of musk and spices, you are overwhelmed quickly as even the crown of his length fills out your small mouth.

Out of the corner of your eye, you see Master walking around you, then you feel his hands on your shoulders as he starts moving you back and forth slowly. Sir lets go of your chin and straightens up, his hands on his hips as he watches you darkly while you fight to somehow get used to the spongy texture on your tongue. “I can't wait to shove my whole length down your throat, bunny,” he whispers hoarsely. “It'll be glorious.”

“Easy, don't scare her off,” Master says behind you, still guiding your head. “You can do this, pet, you were made for this, weren't you?”

His words are weirdly sweet, and somehow they do encourage you. As soon as you manage to shut off your mind, the task at hand (or in your mouth) gets a little easier, as you focus on how your lips strain around the tight skin, how your tongue presses against those throbbing veins, and how you feel his tip rubbing along your gums. You're surprised how easy it is to keep your jaw open like that and your teeth out of the way. It feels like an instinct. Maybe you were indeed made for this.

“Hollow your cheeks and suck,” you hear Master's low voice close to your ear, and it startles you enough to push your head forward, causing Sir's cock to slip right against the back of your throat. A sudden jerk crashes through your body as you gag reflexively. Spit fills your mouth, and you cough against the obstacle in it, and despite the need to cough properly, you feel the urge to not let your saliva drip past your lips, so you follow the advice and hollow your cheeks, sucking hard, your tongue pressing against the underside of the hardening member when you try to swallow.

A groan comes from the man attached to it. “Oh, that's good, pet, just like that,” he gasps. Your eyes fly up to him, and even though your vision is blurry, you watch him curiously. He reacts to every flick of your tongue, every suck, every scrape of your lips along his shaft.

“You're a natural, eh?” Master whispers into your ear, causing you to shiver. He's holding your shoulders, keeping you upright, making it impossible to move back even if you wanted to.

So you keep bobbing your head, sucking and licking, completely focused on the cock in your mouth, while the three men look at you with growing hunger. Master's encouragements ease you, Sir's reactions make you proud, and whatever Lord is doing next to them with his cock in his hand fills your head with strange images that fuel the warmth settling low in your stomach.

A grunt echoes through the room, and suddenly and with a wet pop, the cock is pulled out from between your swollen lips. Master has grabbed you under your arms and dragged you back and upwards against his chest, and you blink in confusion at Sir's look of betrayal and anger. His cock bobs angrily against his lower stomach before he hisses at the man behind you.

“My turn, relax,” Master tells the other man. “We wanted to share, remember? You can have her throat soon enough!”

Sir narrows his eyes, but then grunts and walks away, hand feverishly stroking his hard erection. Lord watches the scene with impassive eyes, lazily rubbing his own length that seems to have grown at least a few inches since you last looked at it. You swallow dryly, only now noticing the mixture of spit and precum dripping down your chin.

Master leads you towards something you think is a chaiselongue, some sort of half-couch or long armchair with only a headrest, and lies down on it, long legs stretched out before he pulls you onto his lap. You feel the bulge in his pants right against your warm sex as he makes you straddle him. Somehow you follow along without protesting, mesmerized by his dark eyes.

“Time to prepare our little bunny,” he whispers and smiles at you. You feel your cheeks warming up, squirming slightly on top of him. A sudden warmth grips you that moves through your whole body before it pulses eagerly right between your legs. You wait for his hand to touch you where you seemingly need him most, but instead both of his hands close around your neck.

You gasp, staring at him with wide eyes. His face looks different now, no longer soft and handsome, but dark and fierce. He licks his lips, then his teeth, and the pointy canines hold your attention for a moment. Your heart beats faster, and he seems to notice it. One hand pushes your collar up until it rests right against your jaw, cutting into your soft skin, making it hard to breathe. His other hand rubs along the slender column of your neck, thumbnail scraping along your fluttering pulse.

“The sounds you make, my little pet, so beautiful. Such a strong heartbeat... I bet you taste absolutely delicious,” he says quietly, his dark eyes glinting red. You swallow hard against his hand and the collar, frozen on his lap, held captive by his hungry gaze.

A feeble little “No... please...” escapes you, but he clicks his tongue and shakes his head, tightening his grip on your throat.

“Shh, none of that. Just relax. This won't hurt... much,” he says as he leans closer, sitting up more until you feel his hot breath on your skin. His fingers slip under the back of the collar and pull your head up and to the side a little to expose your neck for him, and you gasp, your lungs burning, your eyes watering.

He watches you, seems to notice every nervous flinch and wince, how your nostrils flare in growing panic, how your eyelids flutter, and when you move your hands to grab onto his shirt, he leans in, breaking eye contact, and that's enough to pull you back into reality. He is going to bite me! Drink from me! No! I don't want that! But there's nothing you can do.

You feel his tongue on your neck, licking along your pulse, and then... a sharp pain that makes you cry out loudly. His grip on the collar holds you in place but you still squirm on his lap, unconsciously grinding your pelvis against his groin, and a muffled groan comes deep from his throat as he sinks his pointy teeth into you. Something cold rushes through your veins, cold and painful, like little ice shards, a numbing sensation that leaves a horrible burning in its wake.

You whimper helplessly as he sucks on your neck, your blood boiling before it freezes, making you shiver deeply. The noises are obscene, slurping and gulping, lewd sighs and grunts, as the vampire feeds off you. Your head is spinning, you're dizzy, from letting blood, and from lack of oxygen, your body powerless against whatever is happening. Your eyelids become heavy but you're still fighting, not wanting to succumb to this. Or at least you try.

But then your hands lose their grip on his shirt as you slump into yourself a little, only held up by his fingers hooked under the collar, which only enhances the urge to breathe. Dry gasps, feeble little whines fall from your parted lips. Black spots dance before your eyes, and you feel yourself falling... the darkness is so welcoming...

A sudden drawn-out moan signals the end of your torture, though you barely register how you are being lifted up, the pressure around your neck gone, but it still hurts. There's a hand on your pulse, your heartbeat weak, still you feel the blood gushing against that palm. Your vision is blurry. Somehow you switch from the arms of one man to another's, and you can smell the difference, feel the strength in the big arms carrying you.

“Brave little bunny, let me have a taste before I prepare you further, hm?” The deep voice vibrates through your clouded mind, and you whine softly. A warm mouth replaces the hand on your neck, an even warmer tongue licking up your spilled blood. A rough groan pushes into your consciousness. “Ah, what a lovely taste...” The heat becomes stronger, burning against your hurting skin, and you whimper when it becomes unbearably hot. “Shh, just a little. Gotta close up our precious well again, don't want you bleeding out and wasting so much lovely life juice, hm, bunny? We're just getting started...”

Your eyelids flutter open as you come to again, still weakened and dizzy, but you can see the room again. You're lying on your back on the soft bed, and a large man with broad shoulders looms over you, propped up on his strong arms. You see him licking his mouth, something red stuck in the corner of his lips. He gives you a little smile, the creases around his eyes crinkling deeply.

“Hello there,” Lord says with a chuckle. “Ready for more?”

You want to protest, but he already rolls you around onto your stomach, and you grip the sheets as he pulls you back towards the edge, your legs falling off it. You feel him step between your thighs, big hands running along your sides, over your plump rear, before he dips his fingers in the cleft between your cheeks. You yelp in surprise, clutching the sheets tighter, when a thick finger probes at your sphincter. The motion wakes you fully from your daze, and you start squirming on the bed, trying to get away from the insistent finger.

“Bunny! Stop squirming!” Lord's deep voice echoes through the room, and you stiffen immediately, allowing yourself only a little whine when you press your face into the soft bedding. “This will hurt much more if you don't stay still.”

“You call that preparing? Not even a little lube?” you hear another man's voice from behind you, and you want to agree when the finger presses against the tight ring of muscles.

“You know I like them raw...” Lord grunts, working his finger as deep as it will go while you wail hopelessly into the sheets muffling your noises. “That burning friction... the tight muscles... ahh... nothing like it...”

“You're a sick man,” the other voice says with a laugh.

“Oh, but I am not a man,” he replies with a low growl, suddenly pulling his finger out – only to replace it with two. You shriek in surprise as he prods into your ass fast and hard. “I lack man's empathy...” he continues, pushing his two digits in and out in a sickening rhythm. “I am even more selfish than any man wishes to be...” His words mirror his actions, but you can't quite agree to the sentiment. Lord has been so nice to you, gentle and soft, but now he is anything but.

The force with which he pounds his fingers into you makes you bounce on the bed, each deep plunge coaxing a yelp out of your hurting throat. You gave up squirming, but you're still fighting with all you can, though it does only work against you in this situation as you tense up your muscles, trying to repel him.

“Ah, so tight, little bunny. So tiny and tight, I'd love to break you in,” he rumbles as you whine, white-knuckling the sheets helplessly. He continues to finger you for an excruciatingly long moment, before he suddenly pulls his hand away, leaving you gaping and empty. But he's not done yet. You feel him push in two fingers again, but this time he doesn't push deep, he stretches you, fingers hooked around the edge of your protesting hole as he pulls it apart mercilessly.

You wail louder, writhing again, but he continues, stretching you this way and that way, and the pressure feels horrible as white-hot pain crashes through your entire body. “A little more,” he whispers. “You might want to relax a bit, won't hurt as much.”

But you can't. It feels wrong, and you can't allow this. You've seen the size of his cock, and you don't want any of that inside your tight ass. He must be insane for thinking it will fit.

Suddenly the stretching stops, but one finger remains hooked around your rim before you feel a few more pressing into you. You cry out and shudder as the digits nudge against your tight muscles, harder, deeper, and when you think it can't get worse, they retreat, but then a strong hand slaps against your soft ass cheek, making you bounce and shriek. One more slap to the other cheek, and then the presence behind you is gone.

You stumble over your own breaths, spluttering in relief, your ass burning, inside and out. Tears gather in your eyes as you turn your head to the side, sniffling pathetically.

“Poor little bunny,” you hear Master's voice, and in the next moment he climbs onto the bed next to you, resting on his elbow as he watches you. “But you're doing so great, you know? Much better than any other pet we've had before you. You were indeed made for this, to take us all.”

You blink at him, unable to react any differently. He leans in to caress your wet cheek, then curls his hand around your neck and pulls you towards him until he cradles you to his chest, stroking your back soothingly. You nestle against him, closing your eyes, savoring the soft moment before whatever comes next.

“Get her some water,” Master calls over your head. There's a pause and his voice changes slightly when he continues. “I want her gushing later...” You shudder, not quite understanding what he means, but somehow it sounds menacing.

You are manhandled into a sitting position, propped onto your hurting backside, before a hand grabs your chin, forcing your mouth open, and you drink the water given to you with gusto. Parched as you are, you empty the whole glass, as large as it is. Master wipes at your chin and smiles at you.

“Good bunny,” he praises, and you stare at him, feeling your cheeks warming up.

“Can we get going now? I'm so close to bursting here,” Sir's voice rings in your ears, and you realize the other two men stand around the bed, completely naked, their erections bobbing threateningly against their lower stomachs. Lord really is a mountain of muscles, and his cock seems even larger surrounded by all the bulging tissue. Sir is lean but also has defined abs and a toned chest, thick veins running all across his arms and legs, his skin tight, his cock as long and girthy as you can remember.

You swallow dryly. Master shifts you on the bed, before he steps back and undresses quickly as well. You can't help it, you're watching him. He fits right between the other two men, muscular and tall, the same bulging veins on his limbs, a broad chiseled chest, and his cock... The sight gives you chills. How can these men think any of their hard erections will fit into any of your holes? This is insane.

Then again, you were captured by a bunch of vampires, which you thought didn't exist in the first place. Maybe there are some forces at work here that will make this tolerable. You can only hope.

While you still both admire and fear the sight in front of you, the men move. Too swiftly for your muddled brain, you realize you've ended up straddling Master again. He's lying beneath you on his back, hands firmly holding your waist. His legs hang halfway off the bed to allow Lord to step behind you, his large hands on your shoulders. Sir is kneeling near Master's shoulder, cock in hand, watching you rather impatiently.

As you still come to terms with the new position, Lord pushes you forward, then lifts your hips. Sir grabs your head and cradles it in his free hand, slowly inching his cock closer to your mouth. Your breaths quicken, heart thundering in your chest that's pressed to Master's. You don't seem to have any control over your body, but you feel everything.

Something hard nudges between your folds, and you realize none of the men have prepared your pussy which you feel instantly when you are pushed down on an unyielding cock, inch by inch, the sudden stretch as out of this world as the men around you.

You whimper, feeling tears burning under your lashes as he impales you slowly, or rather as Lord works your hips down on him until all of Master's cock is deep inside you, deeper than you expected, deeper than you ever wanted. Your walls are protesting, clenching hard around him, but it's too late to fight it now. Large hands remain on your lower back, holding you down, and all you can do is shudder deeply as the sensations crash over you.

There's a thumb on your face, wiping at the tears spilling down your cheeks, and you look up out of hooded eyes, seeing Sir giving you a smile, neither soft nor mocking, something in between, but it's enough to soothe you a little. That is until he forces your mouth open and presses his cock between your lips. A muffled groan escapes you.

“Hey, get your dick out of her mouth,” you hear Lord's booming voice from behind you. “I want to hear her screams when I breach her!”

You almost clamp down on the cock in your mouth in protest before a hiss comes out of Sir's throat. “Gee, thanks for the warning. Little thing almost got her teeth out,” he says, slowly pulling out of your mouth, but still holding your jaw as he stares down at you. “Bad bunny, no teeth, okay? Keep those chompers away or I'll have to give you a nice spanking, hm?”

You swallow hard, blinking up at him, a pleading look in your eyes. His smile turns into a crooked grimace as he pats your cheek, then leans back on his haunches, hand closing around his cock again. You breathe harder, your head resting on Master's shoulder while his cock rests hard and heavy inside you, and it wouldn't even feel that bad, but you know it's not enough for these men.

The anticipation for what's to come is killing you, every second Lord waits to finally do what he said makes your heart beat faster. “Listen to those sweet sounds,” Master's voice vibrates through you. “You properly scared our little bunny. We gotta look out that she doesn't get a heart attack, poor thing...”

“She's young, she'll manage,” the oldest man growls. “Hold her down now.”

Strong arms close around your body, pressing you to a toned chest, making it impossible to move. “It'll be okay, pet, relax. Don't fight it. You'll feel amazing, I promise...”

You doubt that very much. Taking a deep breath, you still try to unclench your muscles, but at the same time you brace for Lord's intrusion. Your head is spinning, more tears falling from your tightly squeezed shut eyes. And then it's there, it's not as hard as you'd feared, but it's wide and unrelenting as it presses against your puckered hole. All that preparation feels useless now as you've tensed up again, but that's not stopping the man behind you as he inches his thick cock into your tight hole.

Your muscles give way slowly, so slowly, all you can do is wail and whine, burying your face in Master's shoulder. It's due to his large cock in your pussy that it feels so much worse when the second cock forces its way into your small body. You already feel full, but the sensation only grows when Lord pushes further, deeper, and you want to thank him and curse him for taking his sweet time, until all you want is to die when he loses his patience and grabs your hips, rolls his own, and sinks his entire length deep into your ass.

You scream when he fills you out in ways nothing has ever filled you out before. You don't even think it's possible, but he's in there now, you can feel his heavy balls slapping against where Master is stretching your pussy lips. Your body's entire attention is focused on the large intruder, on how your muscles are molded to his shape, how deep he pushes into your guts or so it feels. You can't breathe, can't think, all you feel is the two men impaling you on their cocks.

The third seems desperate to join the fill-her-holes-party and you can't even protest when he pushes his dick back into your mouth, grabbing your head with both hands to pull it slightly closer to his groin. You gurgle around him, too weak to even gag when he pushes deeper, bullying the back of your throat with fast little snaps of his hips. You feel lightheaded, close to fainting, it's all too much.

And you almost slip into the sweet embrace of darkness, but then Lord starts moving behind you. The way his thick shaft with those bulging veins scrapes along your tense muscles as he pulls back makes you wail around the cock in your mouth. But it's when he pushes into you again that makes your whole body convulse. As you choke on Sir's eager erection, jaw slack, spit gathering on your tongue, dripping down your chin, Lord repeats that horrible motion of dragging his length out slowly before he slips back in with a harsh slam of his pelvis.

In and out, in and out, a sickening rhythm that doesn't fit in with the hectic stabs of Sir's cock into your throat, and even less so when Master starts moving beneath you as well. He doesn't even pull back, he just ruts up into you, bullying your cervix with fast nudges of his crown. To say you're overwhelmed would be an understatement. You are out of your mind with discomfort, pain, a strange burning sensation mixing with cold shudders, every slam, every stab, every thrust sending a new wave of goosebumps over your skin.

Your body works for you – or against you. You feel it jerking in Master's hold when Sir forces his cock deeper down your throat, triggering your gag reflex over and over again until your mouth is full of dick and spit and precum, leaving you no choice but to let it drip, to let him bulge your neck, your collar straining against it, making it even harder to breathe. Oxygen seems like an unachievable thing, as far away as any hint of pleasure. You can feel your cunt fluttering around the invading cock, but whatever ounce of bliss may come from that penetration is undone by the harsh stabbing sensation in your ass.

It's all too much, and not enough.

“Let's switch it up, gentlemen. Our bunny is fading,” you hear Master's muffled voice from somewhere far away it seems, and the motions keeping you on the edge cease slowly. Fading? You do feel like it, pushed to your limit, lungs burning, body shutting down slowly. You gag one last time when Sir pulls his cock out of your throat before you close your eyes, too weak to enjoy your freed airways. Too numb to notice much else.

You wake from your stupor when you are lowered down onto a massive cock, your tight muscles screaming in protest, as do you when you feel the deep stab of Lord's cock. He's sitting on the edge of the bed and you sit on his lap, your back pressed to his wide chest, legs hanging open over his thick thighs, and while you're being pushed onto his hard length as it forces its way deep into your aching ass, your eyes notice the bulge forming in your stomach. Panic settles in as you swat your shaking hands at the protrusion, but Lord only laughs.

“That's just me, pet, look how well you can take me,” he coos into your ear, lips brushing against the side of your neck.

“And you can take even more,” Master says as he approaches you, his cock standing tall before he guides it to your cunt.

“No...” you gasp breathlessly, trying to push him away, before Lord wraps his strong arms around you and holds you still. Your fingers twitch helplessly as you stare down at what's to come. You feel already full, that bulge a clear sign of how full you really are, but when the other cock nudges between your swollen pussy lips, easily slipping into the stretched hole, you inhale sharply as it finds its way into your body, finding space where there shouldn't be any.

And the bulge grows even bigger. You squirm in Lord's hold, feeling as if they might just rip you apart from the inside. “Shh,” he makes, kissing along your fluttering pulse. “You can do it, it's fine. Look what a nice snug fit this is...”

Master groans when he bottoms out, his hands finding your plump hips. Lord lies back then, pulling you with him, and the sensation inside you becomes even worse. The change of angle emphasizes the bulge in your belly, and all you can do is whine, helpless sniffles falling from your parted lips. You feel even fuller like this, which shouldn't be possible. But luckily Lord just lies immobile on his back, holding you in his arms, keeping you from squirming, though it's Master this time who leads the thrusting.

His fingers dig into your soft flesh as he starts rolling his hips into you, a slow pounding at first before he picks up speed, hammering his cock into your cramped depths, over and over again, each deep plunge coaxing a strangled squeal out of you.

“Hmm, are you a little piggy after all, pet?” Sir's mocking voice comes from above you, and you look up at him out of hooded eyes. He's upside down in your position, looming over you. “Listen to those squeals. Adorable... Let's shut those up, shall we?”

Before you can react to his words, he has already shoved his cock back into your mouth, going straight for your throat, ignoring the way you spasm against him, how you keep gagging, gurgling, fighting in Lord's grasp, until his balls lie flat against your nose, further keeping you from drawing any breath. Your neck bulges against your collar when he grunts deeply, and you feel him throbbing against your tongue.

He pulls back then, allowing you a sharp spluttering inhale, before he repeats the motion, going as deep as he can, keeping you on your toes. Meanwhile you feel one of Master's hands on your stomach, pressing down hard against the two dicks in your body as he keeps slamming into you relentlessly. Your muscles are tense, barely keeping up with his rhythm as they clench and unclench around him.

And suddenly you see sparks dancing behind your eyelids. His thumb brushes against your clit, the first time they've discovered that sensitive bundle of nerves, and it doesn't stop there. Lord moves beneath you, releases you from his grip only to snake his arms around yours to then close his large hands around your small breasts, kneading them almost tentatively until your nipples rub against his palms, hard and erect, sensitive as ever.

You squirm, muffled moans erupting past the cock in your throat, and you buck your hips, meeting Master's thrusts, then you arch your back, pressing your chest into Lord's touches. Pleasure blooms at the edge of the pain that holds your body captive. It's there, you can see it, feel it, a heavy warmth spreading through your insides like wildfire.

Your eyes roll back, and for the first time the noises all around you, the heavy breaths, the grunts and groans, the slapping of skin against skin, the wet slurping and gurgling and squelching, it morphs into a cacophony of desire, it drives you to move with instead of against the men holding you down and impaling you on their cocks. You find your rhythm, and they let you have it.

Sir snaps his pelvis into your face over and over again, Master's cock pistons into your clenching cunt, deep and hard and fast, his hand heavy on your stomach, thumb drawing tight circles around your nub, and Lord gropes your breasts while his dick just rests inside your ass, large and hefty, adding enough stimulation by stretching and filling you while your muscles work around him.

The tension in your lower stomach grows and grows, that coil ready to spring free, your limbs twitching, your hands gripping onto Lord's massive forearms, fingers clawing at hard muscles, and then it happens. There's a bright light all around you as the tension explodes, and you almost choke on Sir's cock when you start convulsing on top of Lord's wide body. He holds you by your breasts, his low groans only adding to the sensation crashing over you.

Master grunts too, doubling his efforts as your cunt clamps down on his cock, and he's the next to come as he pushes deep and stills, hands digging into your hips, body arching, riding out your orgasm and his with slow grinding motions, the warmth that surrounds you numbing in the most pleasurable way imaginable. His cock throbs deep inside you, twitching against his hand still resting on your stomach, and you feel him filling you up as his hot seed tries to find space in your already cramped depths.

He grabs your hand then and puts it onto your convulsing stomach, letting you feel how your belly bulges even more, and you find it somewhat comforting. He stays inside you, would probably let you enjoy the peak a little longer, but the other men have different ideas.

With your mind spinning, savoring the aftershocks of your orgasm with little uncontrollable twitches to your thighs, you lie heavy on Lord's body, neck bent and held in place by two strong hands as Sir continues to ram his cock deep into your throat. He's more hectic now, his breaths labored, before he suddenly growls loudly and pulls back, his spewing cock shooting thick ropes of cum all over your face and neck and chest, some landing on Lord's hands who hisses angrily in response.

Sir laughs cruelly, albeit slightly breathless, as he grips his length and forces it back into your open mouth, where it keeps throbbing and leaking more globs of hot spend onto your tongue until your cheeks are bulging. “Swallow,” he rumbles, and with his tip heavy between your lips, you press your tongue against it and try to swallow. It hurts, but you manage it, taking a deep inhale afterwards.

He pats your soiled cheek and pulls away, slapping his softening dick on your raw lips. “Good bunny,” he tells you, and you close your eyes, ignoring the humiliation and leaning into his praise.

Between your trembling legs, Master pulls out of you as well, and you feel something warm and sticky dripping down to your ass as your cunt clenches around nothing. You'd say you feel empty, but you still got that large dick in your ass. For a moment you and Lord just rest on the bed, his hands still heavy on your breasts, and even you can feel your rapid heartbeat pounding against his palm. You feel him inhaling deeply before he sits up slowly, one hand on your bulging stomach, the other closing around your throat.

“My turn, hm?” he hums deeply, making you shiver as he presses his mouth to your fluttering pulse. His pointy teeth tease against your skin, but he doesn't bite you. Instead he rubs his hand over your belly, shifting beneath you. You mewl softly, too tired to protest, and frankly, you don't want to. You feel strangely content like this, filled out, covered in cum with more cum leaking out of your pussy. Maybe he just wants you to cockwarm him now. You'll be okay with that. You can do that.

But the large vampire has something else in mind, and he reminds you of your role as their pet (slave) when he suddenly grabs your waist and lifts you off him, and you yelp in pain when his big cock slips from between your tight muscles, leaving you horribly empty. Though, luckily, somehow, he doesn't plan to keep you like that.

You are manhandled onto your hands and knees, limbs shaking from your previous exertions, and without waiting or easing you into it, he pushes his thick cock back into your gaping hole, sliding deep and deeper, and you groan loudly and arch your back when he fills you out completely.

Your knees give way, and you sink to the bed, and he follows quickly, sitting down on your thighs with his hands on your hips. You are even tighter like this, but he finds a place inside your small body, all of him. For a moment he just sits there, big and heavy, and you lie there, immobile, trying to catch your breath in your prone position. You shriek quietly when he leans over then and brushes his lips against your jaw.

“Mind if I take a little sip before we finish this?” he whispers, his deep voice just a low thrum in the air, making you and the bed shake. You can't even nod or shake your head, and he doesn't seem to wait for an answer anyway, when he slowly tilts his head, and you see, out of the corner of your eye, how he bares his teeth, pointy canines growing seemingly bigger, before they sink into your soft skin, a scream ripped from your throat. He hums against your neck, sucking and gulping down your blood, and while you feel cold and numb from the sensation, he starts moving his hips, slow at first, pulling back to slam down, little nudges against your tight muscles.

Your insides burn under the friction, while half of your body seems to lose all function as ice floods your veins. Your mind feels heavy, a strange kind of vertigo gripping you. A soft groan presses into your skin as Lord releases your neck, a warm sensation dripping down your throat before he laps it up with his hot tongue, his pelvis still slapping against your cushioned rear when his cock plunges deep into your tight depths.

Moans escape you as you start bouncing under his thrusts, that numbness from his bite settling in your limbs, making it somehow easier to breathe, like a fresh breeze through your body. Your hands grip at the sheets as he leans back and curls his large hands around your shoulders, before he really pounds down into you. Slap, slap, slap, as you whine and mewl and whimper, finally allowed to make noises without a cock in your throat. It's freeing, in a way, to let it all out, while your ass burns something awful.

His grunts fill your ears, the smack, smack, smack of his pelvis, the slurping noises of your muscles giving way to his large cock, your own squeaks whenever he bottoms out deep inside you, that bulge in your stomach pressing into the soft bed, it all filters through your hazy mind, adding to the heat gathering low in your body. One hand still on your shoulder, his other hand finds its way beneath you, rubbing at your denting belly before it slips lower, and you gasp and shudder when he rubs at your clit, his fingers pressing between your wet folds.

You almost choke on your own spit when he plunges two thick fingers into your clenching cunt, expertly pressing against your gummy walls, stroking his own cock through the thin membrane between your holes. It feels too good to comprehend, and you find yourself spiraling upwards, up and up, your head spinning, body tensing, before it catapults you right over the edge, and you come with a shrill shriek, gushing around his fingers, walls tensing around them, body spasming uncontrollably.

“She did it, boys,” Lord grunts hoarsely, keeping his fingers inside you, rubbing and massaging, forcing you towards yet another orgasm while holding the steady pace of his cock plunging in and out of your ass. Your eyes roll back, and you barely hear the other men replying to his comment as you cry out once more, more fluid spraying from your convulsing pussy.

“Aww, I wanted her to do that all over me,” one of them, probably Master, says.

“Plenty of time to make her do it again,” sighs the other, Sir, from a little further away. “She's yours now...”

“That she is...”

Their voices drone out as you keep climaxing from the strange stimulation, and you twitch even worse when Lord presses his thumb to your clit in addition to his fingers rubbing at your sensitive walls.

“Let us see?”

The words barely register, but then you are lifted up by your throat, pulled against a hard chest, your arms hanging down limply, head lolled back against Lord's shoulder, mouth agape, eyes hooded, and he shifts you onto his lap, still impaled by his big cock, his hand pressed between your twitching thighs. He rubs harder, circles your sensitive nub, pistons his lengthy girth deep into your ass, and you wail and squirm in his hold, but you can't stop yet another wave of pleasure as it crashes over you. Your pelvis pumps, and the plunging of his fingers sounds obscenely wet now.

“Ooh, what a squirter, I'm impressed,” Master's voice reaches your ear. “What a good little bunny. Gotta keep you plenty hydrated, hm?”

You groan in response, collapsing after the continuous strain on your small body. The hand between your legs pulls back, wiping something warm and wet on your inner thigh, before the same hand finds your face, thick fingers pressing between your lips, and you accept them more or less willingly, tasting your own tangy musk. Your head is spinning even more, and as you lick meditatively around the digits in your mouth, Lord wraps an arm around your middle and accelerates his thrusts.

Muffled moans escape you as he pumps and pounds, slams and stabs, in and out, and then, at last, he gives you one final thrust, as deep as possible with his heavy balls slapping against your wet folds, and there he stills before filling your abused depths with load after load of his scorching seed. His hand presses on your stomach as he holds you, his hot breaths in your ear, his large body shuddering against yours.

His warmth is so filling, and you feel it bulging your belly even more. You are limp in his hold, drool dripping past his fingers in your mouth, your eyes closed, body finally coming down from whatever just happened. He rubs his fingertips over your tongue before he pulls his hand back, wipes it over your collar, moves it down, gropes one breast, then rests it on top of the other as he holds you against him, relaxing behind you.

Slowly you lift a hand and place it on his, and he quickly switches them to make you feel the throbbing bulge in your belly. You gasp softly at the sensation. “Too bad I can't fuck a real child into you, little bunny,” he huffs against your ear. You shudder at the vibrations of his voice, blinking at his words. “Maybe we should make the slaves fuck our pets, eh, boys? Make them fill them up in our stead until it sticks?”

“And what do we do with the newborns?” another voice rings through the room. “Eat them?”

Someone laughs darkly. “I'm certainly too young to be a father.”

“Will you ever be old enough?”

“Probably not. Where's the fun in that, huh?”

“Don't mind them, bunny,” Lord whispers softly, brushing his lips against your jaw. “I'd be a great Daddy. But unfortunately, you are not mine... and it's not my decision what happens to you.”

You turn your head to him, blinking your eyes into focus. He looks genuinely sad for a moment, before he notices your gaze and smiles at you, leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose. You squirm a little, feeling your lips twitch.

“Aren't you the cutest...” he coos, kissing the corner of your mouth.

The gentle moment ends abruptly when he exhales loudly and pushes you back into the bed, stomach first, then dislodges from you with a fast pull of his hips, and you cry out at the sudden loss, your hole gaping, his seed leaking from you in thick globs. He slaps your soft ass cheeks, each one at least twice, and you feel your muscles clenching every time. His finger is back at your hole, pushing his spend back in.

“Clench for me, bunny,” he tells you, and you try, pulling his warm cum back in. He spanks you a few more times until your skin is tight and burning and he's content that your hole is puckered shut again. After that he rubs the irritated skin gently. “Good pet. Well done.”

With that Lord leaves you lying on the bed, spent and exhausted, muscles sore and burning. Voices sound from far away, but you're too tired to make out what they're saying. Doesn't matter anyway. Any rational thought has left your clouded head, you are just a body now, molded to the desires of these strange men. A blood bag for them to drink from, a hole to fill with their creamy seed. A pet to play with.

“Come on, little bunny,” rings a closer voice after a while, and you feel yourself being lifted off the bed and onto the ground. You are manhandled into a crouching position, sitting on your haunches, your hands flat on the soft rug beneath you. “How do you feel, hm? Properly used and stuffed?” You blink at Master from under your lashes. “Can you still hop for me?”

His question confuses you, but then you find yourself jerking forward, in a strange little jump, and his laughter echoes through the room. He pats the back of your head.

“Good bunny, come on then, let's get you cleaned up.”

He walks beside you as you follow him in a weird little crawl-hop, your brain wired to please him, your blood pumping in your veins in response to his presence, and if it makes him happy to see you behave like the bunny he always calls you, then you'll be that bunny for him.

This is your life now.

Thank you for reading!

By the way, the Sir depicted in this story has absolutely nothing to do with Sir from my original story INFATUATED. I just suck at finding fitting titles. (Could have named Lord Daddy from the get-go, but oh well.)

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

[teletubbyinlipstick]

Human reader x vampire poly 141.

They lure her into their cabin in the woods, feigning cries of a child asking for help, and poor sweet reader can't help but answer the cries, not wanting to leave a kid afraid and calling out in the dark woods.

Too bad it was a trap :// she felt drawn to the creepy cabin, still hearing soft sniffling from inside. It was only when she stepped over the threshold that poor reader realized her mistake.

The cabin door slammed behind her, and 4 vampires descended...

...

...

...

...but they can't use any of their abilities on her, and it physically pains them to try and feed from her without her consent this awful burning behind their eyes and it feels like a metal clamp takes hold of their throat everytime they try...what a mystery and oh no! reader can't leave the forest either. Only able to get a mile before a magical force yanks clear through the woods and plops her right back on the porch.

The house is trying to tell them something, the crows circle longer; vultures in their habitat.

And the boys are very interested in finding out what's tying them to this little human.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Guys idk what to say lmao this popped into my head and I'm sleep deprived and giggling.

[dreaminguponlilypads]

BITE THE HAND.

AU: vampire!Simon "Ghost" Riley x human!reader

pt. 2

Loving a vampire was dangerous.

Loving him was reckless.

But that never stopped you.

The dim glow of the single lamp in your room cast long shadows against the walls, the silence between you both thick with something unspoken. Ghost sat in the chair across from you, mask pulled up just enough to expose his mouth. His sharp canines glinted under the low light—a quiet, constant reminder of what he was.

Of what he could do.

His dark eyes studied you, unmoving, unreadable. He always watched you like that—like he was trying to figure out why the hell you hadn’t run yet.

“You’re late,” you murmured, pulling your knees to your chest on the bed.

He huffed, arms crossing over his broad chest. “Got held up.”

“Drinking or killing?” you asked dryly.

The corner of his mouth twitched, something almost like amusement flashing across his face. “Neither.”

A good sign. You never asked what he did outside of these four walls, and he never told you. Some things were better left in the dark.

You sighed, studying him. “You look tired.”

“Don’t get tired.”

You rolled your eyes. “Fine. You look like hell.”

Ghost tilted his head slightly, gaze flickering over you. “Funny. Thought the same about you.”

Your lips pressed into a thin line. The past few days had been… difficult. Living among vampires as a human meant constantly watching your back, hiding your fear, never showing weakness. But it was different with Ghost.

With him, you could breathe.

Still, he noticed. He always did.

His gaze sharpened. “What happened?”

“Nothing,” you said too quickly.

Ghost’s jaw tensed, and in a blink, he was in front of you, crouching by the bed. He moved fast—too fast for a human, too fast for you to ever get used to. His hand rested against your knee, fingers cool against your skin.

“Don’t lie to me,” he said, voice low.

You swallowed. “Had a run-in with one of your kind. Nothing I couldn’t handle.”

His grip tightened slightly, not enough to hurt, but enough to make his point. “Who?”

“Does it matter?”

His eyes darkened. “To me, it does.”

Your heart clenched. This—whatever this was between you—was dangerous for both of you. But the way he looked at you, the way he touched you, like he was trying to remind himself that you were real, made it impossible to care.

“I handled it,” you whispered.

Ghost exhaled through his nose, unconvinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, his fingers trailed down, wrapping around your wrist. He turned your hand over, his thumb brushing over your pulse point.

It was deliberate. He did it sometimes, as if grounding himself.

Or maybe reminding himself of what you were.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” he murmured.

A dangerous promise. One you both knew he couldn’t keep.

You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the edge of his jaw, just beneath where his mask rested. His grip on your wrist tightened slightly, his other hand rising to cup your cheek.

“Simon,” you whispered, using his real name—the one no one else got to say.

His thumb brushed against your cheek, his voice barely above a breath.

“Say it again.”

So you did.

“Simon.”

His name barely left your lips before he pulled you closer. His fingers curled against your jaw, cold against your flushed skin, his grip firm but careful—always careful. You knew what he was, what he could do, but he never handled you like prey.

You pressed your forehead against his, eyes half-lidded as you breathed him in—cold earth, iron, something dark and unnameable. His other hand was still wrapped around your wrist, thumb ghosting over the thrumming pulse beneath your skin.

A reminder. A temptation.

“You shouldn’t let me this close,” he murmured, voice low and rough.

You swallowed hard, but you didn’t move away. “Then why are you here?”

A long silence stretched between you. His dark eyes burned into yours, filled with something unreadable—something dangerous. Then, in a slow, deliberate motion, he released your wrist and slid his hand around the back of your neck instead.

His lips brushed yours, featherlight, barely there. “Reckon I’m just as bad at staying away as you are.”

It wasn’t much of a kiss—not yet—but it sent something sharp and hot through your veins. You chased the feeling, pushing forward just enough to press your lips more firmly against his. A quiet exhale escaped him, and then he was kissing you in earnest, his hand tightening at the base of your skull, keeping you close.

You sighed into his mouth, fingers fisting the fabric of his jacket. His fangs grazed your bottom lip—not enough to break skin, just enough to remind you exactly what he was.

Simon was always so controlled, so composed, but you felt the way his restraint frayed at the edges.

And you wanted to pull at the threads.

Your fingers trailed up, brushing along the hem of his mask. Before you could lift it further, his hand shot up, catching your wrist. He pulled back just enough for his lips to part from yours, his breath slow and steady despite the tension in his grip.

“Not yet,” he murmured.

Your heart twisted—not in disappointment, but something else. You nodded, letting your hand drop.

Simon searched your face for a long moment, his thumb absentmindedly stroking against your cheek. Then, in an almost reluctant motion, he leaned away.

“You need rest,” he muttered, standing.

You sighed. “So do you.”

He huffed, adjusting his mask back into place. “Told you. Don’t get tired.”

Liar.

You watched him for a moment, then shifted under the blankets and patted the space beside you. “Stay,” you said softly.

His jaw tensed, his shoulders stiff. He hesitated—but not for long. With a quiet exhale, he sat on the edge of the bed, kicking off his boots before sliding in beside you.

He stayed on top of the blankets, his body angled toward the door, always alert, always watching. You didn’t press him. Instead, you turned onto your side, nestling closer, resting your head against his shoulder.

His arm came around you without a word.

Simon didn’t sleep. He never did. But as his hand settled against your back, calloused fingers splayed protectively, you knew he’d stay there until morning.

Watching. Guarding. Keeping you safe. He always did.

It wasn’t much. But it was enough.

[ghostlycod]

okay so I just watched nosferatu and lemme know if yall want me to actually write something like this

vampire!ghost x victorian!reader x victorian!soap

MDNI ; NSFW (hints of)

cw: dubcon

vampire!ghost x victorian!soap x reader where reader and soap are newlyweds, once they would have been committed to the church but before taking their vows they found each other and knew they couldn’t bear to spend another moment apart, so they made vows to each other instead. now they are on their honeymoon, traveling the countryside and they come across an old and rundown castle in the mountains. your husband insists you pay a visit to the lord of the castle, and tour what must be a luxurious estate. you insist to your new husband that is a bad idea. you do not know the lord who lives here, his townspeople living below him seem odd as can be and superstitious to a fault, and the aura of the castle forebodes something dark. but your husband, fearless as he is foolish, insists that you two explore.

you traverse up the hillside towards the cliffs that house the castle, despite your protests and the protests of the townspeople below, until you reach the main gate. which promptly slams behind you as soon as you cross the bridge to enter.

the lord who occupies the castle is flighty, only stalking the halls in the evening, and you barely make him out from the shadows which surround him at every moment but from what you can see he is older than you and your new husband, his skin pale and gnarled with old scars and burn marks, his lip twisted by the poorly healed gash spanning across his cheek to his chin. he is grotesque, but you try not to be rude. when he insists you both stay, societal niceties forbid you to refuse. and he is an old-fashioned lord, so you and your husband are banished to separate rooms.

this is where the nightmares begin. a ghoulish form hovering over your own as you sleep, a haunted shadow whose fingers ghost over your flesh, twisted lips mouthing your breasts before too sharp teeth sink in with a sting. his broken form undulating above yours as he drinks from your very heart. you awake at the midnight hour and find yourself cumming on your own fingers. there is no phantom in your room, no demonic shadow, only you and your lonely wet hand. you feel sick.

the dreams disturb you beyond what you can say, and you cannot look your husband in the face over breakfast the next morning. he insists you two stay longer, at least the next several days. his lordship has offered to house you and your husband for longer, he says, and to teach your husband a little of business so that he may learn to support you both. you want to beg, you want to plead, you want to run but you love him deeply and he seems so happy with the opportunity. so, despite your disturbing late night fantasies, you relinquish to your husband. sweet thing, living to please him. it was only a dream, wasn’t it? surely a few more nights cannot do any harm. and then you will leave, and put all of this behind you.

the shadows seem to creep closer to you, suffocating you as they worm their tendrils around you. yes, stay, they say. stay another night. and another. and another after that. you look to your husband, face shining in the firelight, eyes set. he is resolute. you will both stay. you want to scream, but you don’t get a say.

[loves-alibi]

an unusual lieutenant

don't mind me.. just thinking about vampire!ghost at 10am

1.8k words (beware... a little bit of blood, alcohol, vampirey stuff and la tension sexuelle)

...

Captain Price warned you. The day you transferred onto the team, he pulled you aside, and in an utterance quieter than anything you’ve heard from him since, he told you that the Lieutenant would take some getting used to. 

“He’s a good man,” Price said, “Just peculiar.”

Read between the lines, sergeant: he’s an asshole. It isn’t anything new, and it certainly won’t become an excuse. You worked hard to get on this team, and some weirdo won’t get in the way of that.

So you prepare for the worst, and… you end up with the best? Lieutenant Riley turns out to be the best superior you’ve had the honor of serving under. He’s not a friend, not by any means, but he’s efficient on the field and cordial off of it, a luxury you’ve rarely been afforded.

However, Price’s words ring true. The man is just as his call sign suggests– a ghost. He barely socializes with the team, always (politely) declining to eat meals with you all. He makes himself scarce during the day, only appearing for training and missions wearing a skull mask. Hell, you’ve never seen him without the damn mask.

Despite his peculiarities, you can see why he’s made the team. He’s built like nobody you’ve ever seen– nearly six and a half feet of pure muscle. And the man is efficient. He lurks in the shadows, waiting to strike, and when he does… The man has slaughtered his way out of one too many impossible odds. It’s a pleasure to fight by his side. You find yourself missing him whenever he’s disappeared. The longing is unusual, unfamiliar, especially considering the allusiveness of the lieutenant. Yet when he’s there, working with you on training or missions, things just go better. It’s as though he understands you on some incomprehensible level. He picks up on things nobody else ever has– when you’re fatigued, hurt, or just generally pissed.

Unfortunately, today was one of the many days where Ghost lived up to his namesake. And what a day it was for him to be missing. After a grueling training session, you were tasked with a mountain of paperwork. All was going well until you accidentally misplaced about half of your completed paperwork, leading to an overzealous recruit dumping them into the paper shredder during your lunch break. While you were happy to give the kid one hell of a talking to, the damage was done and you were practically back to square one.

You don’t finish up until almost midnight. The urge to sleep is strong, but your frayed nerves are stronger. If you want to get some shut-eye before the sun rises, you need a drink ASAP. So straight past your room you go into the common room kitchen. Except, you’re not alone. 

A man leans over the counter, setting down an empty glass. His blond hair is so light it nearly blends in with his translucent, pale skin. You’ve never seen him before, surely you would have noticed if you have. With skin that white, he must glow like a damn disco ball in the sun. The man wipes his lips with the back of his hand. It comes back smudged with red. So it seems like he had the same bright idea as you.

“Care to share?” You ask, startling him. He straightens to full height, and your heart skips a beat. He didn’t look all that large while hunched over the counter. Now? He’s built like a damn brick wall, tall and broad in a way that’s even rare among the men and women you work with.

The man gazes at you with wide brown eyes lined with purple bags. They dart behind you before he relaxes a bit, slumping back down.

“Share?” He whispers. His voice raises your hackles, something about the timber of the sound, even in a whisper, that awakens something in your mind.

You motion to his wine glass. He holds the stem tightly. You wouldn’t be surprised if it shattered. “The wine, pal.”

The man tenses. “Pal?”

“Pal,” you repeat.

“You’ve never called me that before,” says the man as he reaches in the cabinet for another glass.

You frown. “Have we met?”

The man’s face stretches into an unamused pout, “Really, Sergeant?” The word curls around his tongue in such a familiar way, yet it’s nearly impossible to place.

Just nearly.

You know that voice well. Typically it’s barking out orders in your earpiece and—

Shit, you just disrespected your Lieutenant.

“Christ—” Ghost flinches. You compartmentalize his dislike of blaspheme for when you’re not profusely apologizing to him. “Ghost, I didn’t recognize you without—“

“It’s alright,” Ghost looks through the cabinets until he finally finds the one with the 141’s not-so-secret alcohol supply. “Wine, you said? White or red?”

“Whatever you’re having.”

Ghost frowns at you until you motion for his emptied glass still filled with the crimson liquid. His lips part into an ‘o’. “‘F course."

Ghost pours a glass and slides it your way. “Can’t sleep?”

You nod. “You?”

“Something like that.”

You raise your glass. “Cheers?”

Ghost taps his glass against yours with a satisfying ding.

“You know,” you say after a sip, “We haven’t gotten the chance to talk since I joined— one-on-one, I mean.”

“That we have not,” Ghost muses. “I suppose you have questions.”

“That I do,” your eyes follow your finger, tracing the rim of the glass. “You know, Price gave me a warning when I joined.”

“He did?”

“Yeah, said you were a weirdo.”

“‘Weirdo’?” Ghost laughs. It’s surprisingly warm. You get a flash of his smile for the first time. His teeth are blindingly bright, but your attention is drawn to his canines. They’re unusually large— long —their points extending long and dangerous. “Is that what we’re calling it these days,” he muses.

“It’s not totally crazy to say, you know?” Ghost tilts his head, another sharp smile pulling at his lips, “I mean– this is the first time I’ve seen your face.”

“I’ve got a skin condition.” You raise a skeptical eyebrow. Ghost continues, “I get burnt easily.”

You frown, “Burnt?”

“Sunburn.”

“You’re joking.”

Ghost grimaces, and you realize that he is in fact not joking. You bark out a laugh, and before you consider the possibility that Ghost may actually have a medical condition, he starts laughing too.

You’re not looking, too busy laughing about your poor brick-shithouse of a lieutenant getting burnt to see that you’re about to slam your hand down on your wine glass. And you do, the glass knocking over and spilling wine all over the counter. And, as though the universe is reminding you that luck is not on your side today, the glass shatters, a shard managing to cut through one of your fingers.

A string of expletives escapes your lips as you instinctually avert your eyes. The feeling of the glass slicing through your skin echoes in your mind. Thinking about it causes you more distress than the actual pain.

“Let me look,” Ghost grumbles. He reaches for your hand, but you pull it back, examining it. A long but shallow cut mars your pointer finger. It oozes blood which drips down your knuckle and between your fingers. 

“It’s fine,” you gasp, “I’ll just grab a band-aid.”

“No,” Ghost wraps his hand around your wrist. It’s not particularly hard, but the shock of his cold touch has you gasping. He pulls your hand to his face– his lips –and before you know it, your bloodied finger is in his mouth.

“Ghost, what the hell are you–”

Your lieutenant honest-to-God moans around your finger. His tongue swirls languidly around the digit in his mouth, like he’s savoring something. You suppose he is– the taste of you. Ghosts’s eyes are pulled shut, brows furrowed as he completely ignores your protests. Though, your protests aren’t exactly passionate, rather halfhearted formalities in case any others decide to wander into the common room this late at night.

He draws your finger out slowly, his tongue keeping contact with it until it can’t any more. You don’t draw your hand away from his grasp, instead letting it stand between you two, Ghost’s grip still iron on your wrist.

The room spins around you. You blame it on blood loss, ignoring the fact that you’ve lost way more blood in way less time. A cut certainly couldn’t bring you down. Your lieutenant however–

“Better?” Ghost asks. He moves closer, nostrils flaring as he takes a deep inhale almost like he’s smelling you. The thought makes you dizzier, a recessed part of your brain running wild at the thought of such a primitive act.

“You… you just–” You cut yourself off, a cross between a sigh and a whimper bubbling from your throat. 

It sounds like a moan. 

Maybe it was a moan. 

It definitely was a moan.

Ghost’s free hand comes to cup your cheek, tilting your gaze back up to his. You hadn’t realized, but you were staring at his bloodstained lips. “Darling,” he coos, “Answer me.”

The words tumble from your mouth before you can even think about them: “Much better.” They ring true. Your finger doesn’t hurt a bit, even though it was very much just sliced open on a glass.

Ghost brings your hand to his lips again. You think he’s going to put your finger in his mouth again. Instead, he presses it against your lips, placing a kiss on the cut. He lets go of your wrist, but before your hand can fall to your side, his tongue darts out from between his lips, giving the cut one last kitten lick.

Ghost’s lips are moving. Between them, you catch glimpses of his canines. Why are they so long? They’re lined with red blood– your blood –filling the crevices between his teeth. His tongue runs over his teeth, wiping them clean of you. Your lips part, your own tongue running over your own teeth in mimicry.

“Darling?” His mouth is closed, lips pursed.

“Huh?”

He’s staring at you, the bags under his eyes seeming to have lessened. It’s just the lighting, that’s all.

“I said,” Ghost’s thumb traces your cheekbone. You feel like you might faint. “Go bandage that.”

You blink, mouth forming an 'o'. “Okay,” you barely get the word out as Ghost lets his hands fall from you. Your feet are carrying you backwards as you stutter, “B-bandage. Got it, Ghost.”

You’re falling over your feet as you stumble away, nodding profusely and uttering bandage, bandage, bandage under your breath.

“Simon,” he calls, and you stop, turning to him. “It’s Simon. I’m not just a ghost, you know.”

A ghost. No he certainly is not. Not anymore. Your finger is stinging, and when you look down, it’s bleeding again. You’re tempted to point it out to Ghost– to Simon –just to see what he’ll do.

“Good night,” your bloody finger twitches involuntarily, “Simon.”

[rosegolden13]

Of Bites and Bonds

Part 1 of a mini-fic series with vampire!Ghost x accidentally sired!reader

1.2k words cw: blood, mild gore, death(?) but not really, vampirism- biting and sire bonds, power dynamics, lots of swearing lol

You were meant to die. You weren’t meant to have bitten down on his hand when he covered your screams as he tore into your neck. In the thrill of the the feast, he had not even felt the way your teeth had managed to snag on the tough skin of his palm and draw blood. The frenzy brought on by drinking your blood was enough to block out any pain he would have felt. And when he finally pulled away from your limp body, the life sucked out of you, hardly a liter of blood left in your veins, he didn’t notice the nearly black crimson smudge by your lips, his venom already coursing through you, bringing you new life. He was far too busy admiring the wound on your neck, sparkling in the moonlight like liquid rubies. 

It was all a mistake. You were meant to decompose in that wood, not turn into a creature damned by God and abandoned by humanity. Do forgive him. He’s not even a century old, an amateur really. 

It takes the body a week to turn. A week of excruciating pain, the price to pay for cheating death. Only, you did not ask for this. You’re all too aware for those seven long days, senses painfully heightened beyond human limits. Body still rigid with death, you’re locked in place, forced to endure. The screeches of birds all too loud, the frantic beat of a deer’s hooves against the forest floor as it flees from your unnatural existence. When you’re freed from this delerious state of torment, an icy fever of a turning, it’s pure panic.

A vampire, that’s what you are now. But it should be impossible. They were ousted from your country years ago, policies put in place to send them all out and ensure they stayed out… Clearly, at least one did not get the memo.

Each movement is clumsy, too fast and strong. You’re stumbling on your feet when you finally manage to stand, leaving a dent in the bark of a tree when you reach out to balance against it. Scents and sounds are overwhelming- thousands of little heartbeats pitter-patter from the critters of the woods. There’s not much thought to your actions as you follow a feeling, a tug in your mind, lurching towards it. This strange pull is the only thing that feels right. Your teeth might ache, your body weak and starving, but this inexplicable tug, tug, tug feels like a compass guiding you home.

It only gets stronger when you tear into a clearing. The sounds of the forest seem to fade a little when you lock eyes with him. Him. 

He’s leaving a small cabin, heading down a gravel path towards a rusty pick-up truck, but he stops when he sees you. There’s a black baklava covering most of his face but you could recognize those brown eyes tinted with a slight sheen of red anywhere. They’re the only solid image you could conjure in your mind during your change. 

“You… You did this to me.” The words aren’t filled with as much bitter hatred as you hoped they would be. The memories race back all at once and the feelings along with them. Fear and anger battling with an instinctive knowledge that you need him. Where is this all coming from? 

“For fuck’s sake…” is the first thing he says to you, his accented voice thick and deep. He knows what you are, knows he made a terrible, terrible mistake. It would be the smartest choice to simply kill you. But just as you feel the connection, he feels the same. It would go against everything inside him to hurt you. “Jus’ my bloody luck. Why didn’ ya jus’ die?” His voice is a grumble as if he’s the one that has a right to be irritated by the situation.

“You killed me! You- you bit me and-...” The words are frantic and delerious as they come out of your mouth, the panicked confusion finally catching up to you. Before you can even get that far, though, he’s before you in a second and his large hand is gripping the back of your neck, pushing you towards his pick-up truck.

“Wait! You can’t just- I’m not going anywhere with you!” You try to duck out from his grip but he’s far too quick for you. He makes a fist around the roots of your hair, tight enough to keep you in place but not enough to hurt.

“Come on,” is all he offers as explanation, voice still carrying that annoyed quality. 

Fuck him. You raise your leg and then kick his ankle with as much momentum as you can gather. Given your new strength, his weight gives out and he lets go of your hair. Your eyes widen as you watch him land on his ass. Though it’s more than you intended, you take the opportunity to scramble away. 

“Goddamn, baby vamp… Come ‘ere.” He hisses as he gets up, brushing off his dark jeans with a quick and forceful swipe of his hands. You catch a glimpse of a flash of red in his eyes. His anger settles over you, crawling under your skin in a way that leaves you entirely unnerved. “I said, come ‘ere.” 

The words seem to reverberate through you and before you can even process why they felt like that, you’re walking towards him again. The actions are your own, but that compulsion to do what he says? That is instinctive. 

You shake your shoulders a little, trying to brush off the thick feeling his control. “What did you just do to me?” Your voice is quieter, resistance slipping through your fingers like you’re trying to grasp water. 

He doesn’t answer and it sends a fresh wave of resentment through you but this time, you don’t protest as he nudges you towards the car. Despite the fact that he killed you, seems to lack basic communication skills, and has some sort of sway over your mind, there’s a deep and seemly ancient part of you, beyond your rational mind, that trusts him wholly. And there’s an even deeper and illogical desire inside you to not upset him again, to make him proud. 

There’s no time to make sense of these bizarre feelings now, not as he basically carrols you into the backseat. Huffing, you settle into the seat, watching as he gets into the driver’s seat. You wait a beat for an explanation but when he just starts driving, you know one is not coming. 

Frustration building, you smack the shoulder of his seat, the leather easily tearing under your nails and the stuffing pushing through the torn leather in plush clouds. “You can’t just turn me into a fucking vampire, use some mind magic on me, and then not explain any of it!”

He doesn’t even react to your outburst, merely glancing at you in the rearview mirror before looking back at the road. “Buckle up.”

“Asshole…” you mutter, hesitating a moment but eventually doing as he says because not doing it leaves you antsy and jittery. You glare at his face in the rearview mirror and the scowl on your face causes your new fangs to prick into your lips. “Ow…” Reaching up, you rub the small hurt. 

You swear you can hear him let out a chuckle, the sound muffled by his mask.

Hope you enjoyed this because part 2 is being cooked up rn! Can you tell I love Twilight, The Vampire Diaries, and Interview with a Vampire lmao

[newyork-institute]

All I can think about now is the reader being a freshly turned vampire, and Ghost stumbles across you, covered in blood.

"NO! Wait, please, I don't understand-" "Who's blood is that?" "Mine? I think?" "You think?" "I don't know! I was attacked from behind and then all I felt was pain and then I woke up and everything smells so fucking good and-" "Have you attacked anyone?!" "I-"

Turns out you did, in fact, attack someone, the raw hunger of a fresh turn almost impossible to stop yourself.

He becomes your lifeline after, knowing the clan in the area would rather rip you to shreds than have a vampire running around without being told what to do from another.

When he first offered you his blood, the smell called to you like a siren called to shore, hoping to drag someone into the darkness with them.

You couldn’t escape the taste of him constantly in your mouth or the smell of him surrounding you. You craved licking the sweat off his neck and biting in, but in the beginning, you were limited to the blood from his hand.

Ghost was never surprised to come out of his room in the middle of the night to find you sitting by the window in the living room, eyes cast towards the sky. (Vampires don’t sleep because they’re dead, Ghost had to remind himself.)

He knew it was wrong, but he couldn’t stop himself from staring at you all the time, wanting to feel your skin under his hands.

Of course, though, other vampires learned of your existence easily, grabbing you like a thief in the night and keeping you sedated with dead man’s blood constantly pumping in your veins.

Ghost was covered in blood when he found you, the smell bitter because it was vampire blood but his presence a balm on your tired and aching body.

“How’d you find me?” You murmured, your head lolling around on Ghosts shoulder. He shushed you, telling you not to talk and to let him take care of you, and you did, closing your eyes and sleeping off the rest of the dead man’s blood.

When you woke up at whatever time later, all you could smell was Simon - the sweat, sweat smell of his musk and the gunpowder that stuck to his skin. You looked at him as you opened your eyes.

The whole turning into a vampire and then being captured and held captive by other vampires caused you to break, a sob slipping past your lips as you buried your head in the pillows.

Strong arms were around you, Simon hauling you into his lap, one hand wrapped around your hip and the other tangling into your hair.

You were shaking as you buried your head into his shoulder, calming yourself down with the smell of him invading your senses.

Then hunger shot through you, brutal and agonizing, a wounded sound passing your lips as you tried to pull away from that intoxicating smell of Simon Riley.

Hands were on your face, a thumb pushing at your brow to get that look off your face. “What is it, love?”

“‘M hungry,” you grit out, letting the wave of devastating hunger pass before you opened your eyes, Simon’s chest now bare as he slid his hand to the back of your neck.

“Here,” he said, tilting his head to the side some, baring his neck to you. You whimpered, not needing anymore convincing to press your lips to his neck, fangs coming through and piercing his skin.

I just like the idea Simon Riley letting himself be the only one to sustain you, gripping you tightly each time as you sink your fangs into his neck.

[lovemebutleavemewild]

You'd always known you'd come to him.

The man who'd lured you here may have thought himself responsible but you knew better.

When that voice, that voice, had called for your captor, he'd left you at once to run up the stairs towards it and you'd been alone in a hallway with a door at your back and enough adrenaline in your heart to take you far away if that was what you wanted.

Only it's not what you want, though a second ago, it had been. Because you know that voice and you also feel a stirring need pulling you towards it.

That voice has whispered to you in your dreams.

Though your captor must have long reached the top of the stairs, the voice calls again. For you.

And you go to him, as you'd always known you would.

The door at the top of the stairs is made from cheap wood that swings inwards silently at your touch.

Your captor is crouched on his knees but you barely look at him and he doesn't look at you at all. His head is tilted back, held in place by the gloved hand in the longest part of his hair.

You know you're to look where he's looking, know what's expected of you and want to meet those expectations, but all the same, it takes a long time to lift your eyes. He waits in silence, knowing you'll acquiesce eventually. Finally, you do.

His eyes are the only part of him you can see. You tell yourself the rest of his face is covered by a mask, but in the dim light of the room, you could almost believe the bottom half of his face has been stripped of flesh, that the darkness around his eyes and nose is actually the soft insides of a face rotted black.

He looms, nearly as tall as the ceiling and dressed almost entirely in black, apart from the glimpses of white that are his knuckles. His fingers move absent mindedly through the mohawk of the man knelt at his feet and though it looks gentle, you know those fingers are hard, capable of holding too tight and not tightly enough, all at once.

He is terrible. He is beautiful. He's haunted your dreams for years and been the only source of pleasure that has ever rung true.

Every night since you've known him you've woken, soaked in sweat, sheets twisted around the lower half of your body and panting like you've run a mile, his face scarred into your eyelids, his name on your lips.

"Ghost," you breathe and the word is nothing and it's everything. Ghost shifts, his hand tightens and your captor lets a high whine out of his throat.

The lower man's thighs stretch as he moves from his haunches to his knees proper. Quick as a snake, Ghost releases his hold and shoves him on the side of the head so he falls on his side, hard.

At a flick of Ghost's wrist, he's up and moving, and in a second, you realize he's stripping. When he's down to his underwear, he retakes his position on his knees, still gazing upward, with a look of adoration on his face, but something else too. There's hunger in his eyes, in the set of his slightly open jaw and his chest heaves as low, heavy pants escape him. His fists rest on his thighs but every few seconds he raises them and reaches out as if desperate to touch. He never does and you know in your bones that he won't. Not until he's given permission.

Heat paints the side of your face and you meet Ghost's eyes again, though you never look right into them. Instead your gaze falls on the edge of the hard white of the jaw bone on his mask. You can pretend it's fear, if you don't want to admit to yourself what it really is. Deference.

But there's no pretending with Ghost. There never has been. He's seen into your dreams, into your heart. He knows your deepest, most depraved desires, has always known them, has been there in the background as they've grown and twisted under his careful tutelage.

He raises the hand not touching your captor and with one twitch of a finger, he beckons you forward. You go at once and stand before him, hands twitching, wanting, and not daring to want simultaneously.

And then his hand moves again, in a way you've seen countless times in your dreams and just once in person, just seconds ago.

You move instinctually, hands shaking over buttons, trembling over zips. All the time, he watches and waits, still as a mountain. Then his head tilts by the barest inch and the thought thrills through you at once.

He's seen your soul bared and still wants you.

When you too are down to the barest items of clothing, you wait with bated breath. Your eyes roam his face hungrily and you roll forward on the balls of your feet, wanting so badly to draw closer, waiting, hoping, needing.

In your peripheral vision, of which you are acutely aware, you see his hand move again and euphoria crashes through your veins, filling your chest and possessing you entirely as you drop immediately to your knees. You gaze upwards and breathe out, letting your eyes flutter shut just as his hand reaches out and settles in place around your throat.

[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.

[swordsandholly]

Fancy

Ch 1: Here’s Your One Chance | Next | Ao3

MDNI

Vampire! Poly! 141 x Plus size! Fem! Reader

Word Count: 3.6k

Summary: A permanent darkness rests over the city. You’ve lived here your whole life - in the slums, just another human to be pushed and pulled at the whims of the vampires that run it. Another human made to bleed and crawl their way through a meager life.

Maybe, just maybe, a meeting by happenstance will change your fate for the better.

A permanent darkness rests over the city. Cold, too. Despite living here your whole life you’ve never quite adjusted to the artificial nature of it - to the shadow hanging above the miles and miles of city and the constant chill on your skin.

Really, you aren’t meant to be here. This place isn’t built for humans despite the mass that live within the confines of the city’s dome. It’s made for creatures - beings of the night that stalk and rule. The air has become rotten in the lower neighborhoods over a century due to pollution and overpopulation. It will turn your lungs black before the age of five without the proper protection.

Apartment buildings are crowded and decent living conditions are hard to come by. Many have a waitlist longer than the human lifespan. Most operate on a dorm system - at least one person per room. Randomly assigned of course, based entirely on who can pay the rent. You’ve lucked out enough to earn a shitty studio to yourself. It’s cracked and crumbling but the locks are tight and it has a window - even if the view is just a building across the alleyway.

You squeeze into a black mini dress, tying your hair up to show off the double string of pearls on your neck. They’re the nicest thing you own - the only thing worthy of this club. The only thing that can project the image needed to get proper tips. Red lipstick as a final touch. It’s corny, you know, but the vampire clients are always suckers for it. Pun intended.

This job is important. There can’t be a hair out of place. This is your chance. Your one chance to make enough money to get out of the slums. To at least make it to the middle city. You can practically hear the grime on the sidewalk as you make your way toward the metro station. Dirt and debris so caked into the very air down here that you have to wear a respirator as you go. It’ll leave marks when you first take it off, but they usually disappear by the time you’ve made it from the depot to the club.

You don’t bother with sitting on the train. Hell will freeze over before you chance catching whatever new disease has grown in that Petri dish. Instead you join the rest of the patrons in awkwardly standing in the center of the cart, damn near falling over when the train lurches to begin its journey from the slums to the upper city. There are actual names for the two areas, but nobody uses them anymore.

The respirator makes a hissing sound as you remove it after stepping out of the train. The cool, clean air of the upper city fills your lungs. It’s satisfying in a way its sticky, filtered sister could never be. The faux fur of your cropped coat tickles a bit as you walk, blown by that strange breeze that never seems to stop in the upper city. The one that blows all the grime and smog downhill.

The club sits square in central downtown - the bottom level of a historical hotel. It’s an elegant building. Red with curled metal accents over the windows and doors. Modeled after the ancient art nouveau movement. It sparkles underneath the artificial LEDs of the city - all signs and glowing windows. You can always tell where the humans are, catching glimpses of that unmistakable glow only a UV light gives off.

You duck down the alley behind the hotel. Grimy and dark, the complete opposite of the front entrance. Your heels clack on the concrete loudly - echoing off the hard walls of the building surrounding you.

It’s easy enough to slip into the routine of your job. Going back and forth to the bartender, carrying various drinks and placating the egos of cowardly men and the vampires they lie to themselves about being equal to. You can see the hunger in their eyes when you tilt your head, exposing more of your neck to the light. When your wrists just pass their noses as you set down their glasses.

It’s hard work. Long hours and more days of the week than you would like, but it pays enough for you to afford your little apartment and save some for your future.

“Hey! New girl!” The owner barks at you as you gently set your tray back into the stack to be washed.

You whirl on your heel. Shit, did you fuck up? Ruin everything? Your mind runs through every interaction over the course of the night - every comment, every stilted moment. “Y-yes, sir?”

“Need you as a Companion.” He stands in front of you, the pinstripes of his suit warping over his massive crossed arms. The wrinkle in his nose makes his mustache twitch.

“C-companion!” You squeak. “I’m not-“

“We had a call out. Need you to take the private booth in the back.”

Your eyes are saucers - heart beating so hard you almost can’t hear his words. You don’t know what to make of this. His words are harsh and cut right though you, but the prospect they hold…

“You paying attention?” He grunts.

Your voice shakes. “Just… why me?”

“You match their preference.” Its blunt. Uncaring. Not that you would ever expect much sympathy from the owner of a place like this - feeding girls to vampires and their kin.

Generally, you’re not the type to be preferred - too big and soft for most. It’s what kept you as a server exclusively, you’re sure. Companion is such a major step up, too. You haven’t had any training. You never thought you’d get there - only a few girls make it from Server to Companion. To have it by happenstance…

With a deep breath you remind yourself that this is temporary. Just for tonight. You are acting as a replacement, nothing more. If you pull this off maybe you’ll get enough tips to finally replace the air filtration in your apartment. Maybe you can even get an overhead UV light. Oh, wouldn’t that be lovely!

Another tray is shoved into your hands. Is this… actual gold? Ornate designs line the outer rim - all weaving in and out of each other inlaid with iridescent mother of pearl. It’s cold on your hands and so shiny you catch your reflection in it before the bartender sets a bottle of wine and four glasses on it. You’re fairly certain between the wine and the tray you are holding upwards of four thousand dollars a in your hands. It takes everything to keep your hands from trembling.

You slowly head for the back booth - just beyond the main floor of the bar. It’s far more quiet here. The music from the floor muffled by distance. There are only a few private booths and they are only ever occupied by the city’s elite. The top of the top. You pause at the heavy, velvet burgundy curtain separating you and your clients for tonight. They could be anyone.

You hope they aren’t the type to get rough.

Balancing the tray on one hand, you use the other the push the heavy curtain to the side - entire body alert and tense as your eyes land on the four men sitting around the rounded booth. Their eyes meet yours, and you freeze. A shiver runs down your spine.

They’re beautiful in that way only vampires can be. Untouchable. Marble-esque. Eyes clear and bright even in the low light of the booth - that sheen of night vision apparent. Lions staring down their prey and you, who walked into the den willingly.

“Good evening.” It takes everything to keep your voice steady. To slip back into that comfortable customer service headspace you’ve curated over the years. “I’ll be your Companion tonight.”

“What happened t’ Cherry?” The man on the outer right side of the booth asks. His arm is slung carelessly over the back of the booth, body slack and comfortable.

“She was unfortunately unable to come in tonight.” You say softly, carefully sliding the tray onto the table. “If I’m not to your standards-“

“Well, now, none of us said that.” A man with an imperial beard smiles. It softens his face - makes him look less like stone. “What’s your name, dove?”

“Fancy.” You murmur. It’s your chosen work name - based on a song your mother used to play from a century ago. One of your earliest memories is her lifting you into her arms and spinning around to the song. All the workers names are single words. Easy to remember. Easy to request for returning quests.

“Fittin’.” The man to your left grins, bright blue eyes sparkling. His fangs catch the light - your hands tremble for a brief moment.

“Do you know who we are?” The masked man beside him asks. His voice rumbles through your nerves, all the way into your bones. You can hardly look at him - the skull covering the top half of his face makes your gut churn.

Should you know them? Oh, fuck, you probably should. Vampires live forever - their names and legacies travel across centuries. Millenia. It’s going to give you away. You’re just a low class human from the slums. You don’t know Vampires from the uppers.

The illusion of luxury only goes so far.

“It’s not a trick question.” The man to your right smiles gently, tilting his head to the side.

“No, sir.”

“Well,” The one with the beard sits a little straighter. “I’m John Price and these are my… confidants. Cohorts. Kyle Garrick, Johnny MacTavish and Simon Riley.” He gestures to each as he goes.

John Price… John Price… Nothing comes to mind. Nothing about any of them, for that matter.

“Lovely to meet you.” You smile pleasantly, slipping back into the script. Swallowing roughly and steadying yourself, you reach for the bottle and slowly pouring a tester amount into the four glasses. “Tonight we have a vintage red from 2089.”

John hums, swirling the glass before taking a sip. His eyes glow in the low bar light. “You remember the 80’s, Simon?”

“Which one?” The makes you pause. How many 80’s could there be?

John laughs, whole and hearty. Little crows feet appear in the corners of his eyes. “Which d’you think?”

“I remember the blood.” The masked man mutters. He doesn’t look at John - dark eyes locked on you. You keep up the well trained smile. Neutral, comfortable.

“Och, ye would.” Johnny scoffs, taking his own glass after John gives you a nod to fill the four properly. “Cannae ever remember the good.”

“Well what’s your finest memory then Johnny?”

“There’s was this lass… think her name was Cassandra. Had the biggest tits and-“

“Enough of that. Theres a lady present.” John waves his hand. To your surprise, Johnny actually listens despite looking muffed about it. You can’t help but snort. Lady. As if.

How old are they, anyway? They look young - especially Johnny and Kyle. Definitely below thirty when they were turned. John obviously leads but that doesn’t necessarily mean he turned the rest of them. They could have just come together over the years. Vampire covens vary heavily as to why they came together. Sometimes friendship, sometimes relation, sometimes just convenience.

Simon is still staring you down, hooking a thumb under his mask to raise it just over the end of his nose. Scarred lips sip from his glass.

“Come sit, luv.” Kyle pats the booth beside him.

You snap out of your thoughts at the prompt - moving to sit in the empty spot beside Kyle. The next thing you know hands are on your hips, passing you over until you’re sat square in the middle as if you weigh nothing. You know vampires are strong - you’ve gotten thrown around by your fair share in the slums, whether a mugging or fucking - but it still startles you. They could crush you with barely a flick of the wrist.

Fingers brush over your shoulders, tracing the shape of them before lowering to rest between your exposed shoulder blades. They’re cold and leave a trail of goosebumps in their wake.

“Tell us about yourself, hm?” John prompts.

“Oh, not much to tell.” You shrug and smile. “I’m from the city. Started here about a year ago-“

“How have we never seen ye then?” Johnny interrupts, eyes locked on your chest. “A bonnie thing like ye…”

“Well…” You raise your hand to your mouth like you would when whispering a secret. “I’m not supposed to tell but I’m actually a server, normally.”

“Oh, really?” Kyle leans his chin on his palm. “In a dress like that?”

“What’s wrong with my dress?” You huff, letting the pliant facade slip just enough to make yourself seem real. Just a little less doll like before you return to the script.

“Absolutely nothin’.” Simon hums beside you, eyes near black under the shadow of his mask.

Your face heats. Client compliments never get to you and you’re not sure what about his feels so different. All of their attention is so intense. It dives under your skin and burrows deep in your marrow.

“So, seeing as you implied I should know who you are-“ You tilt your head and meeting John’s eye, “who are you?”

John chuckles, leaning close. “Oh, no one important. Contractors. Independently employed.”

“Ah, so, criminals.” You laugh.

“If you say so.”

“I can’t exactly judge.” You lean in as well, shoulder pressing against his broad chest. The material of his suit is soft and thick. High quality. “I mean, look where I am, hm?”

“Are ye a criminal, lassie?” Johnny grins at you, tilting his head. How he makes a mo-hawk cute is beyond you.

“Shh.” You press a finger to your lips.

It’s easy enough to look sultry, to play the part, to mindlessly flirt. Easy enough to fall into the simple back and forth. Scripted. Basic. Nothing out of the ordinary. They’re just clients at the end of the day, even if they have more money and power than your usual crowd.

You carefully refill each of their glasses. You can feel their eyes on you - boring through your very being. It takes more concentration than you’d like to keep your breath from hitching when John’s hand rests on your upper thigh. You lean forward, pushing each glass back to their respective owners.

Johnny takes your hand before you can retract it, placing gentle kisses from your palm to your wrist. He sighs shakily, teeth catching your skin ever so slightly.

“Johnny.” The masked man rumbles in warning.

“Not gonnae bite, LT… she just smells incredible.” Johnny murmurs against your wrist.

“Have you ever been bitten, dove?” John asks, eyes half lidded as he stares you down. That feeling comes back.

Prey. You’re just prey.

“N-no…” You shake your head, voice smaller than you’d like. You’re not supposed to. Clients aren’t allowed to bite the girls here - it’s not one of those clubs - but in reality you’re at your mercy. To book one of these rooms they surely have the money to pay whoever necessary to do whatever they might want with you.

“Donnae look so afraid.” Johnny chuckles.

“We’re not goin’ t’bite.” Kyle leans forward. “Just curious.”

“Oh…” You whisper. Johnny drops your wrist and you pray that they don’t notice how quickly you retract it.

“Alright boys, time for business.” John sighs. He suddenly grabs your chin, turning you to face him. It’s a light touch, not too rough but solid. His pupils dilate and yours with them. “You’ll forget everything we say from now until I snap my fingers.”

The next thing you know you’re blinking blearily, sitting in John’s lap with your legs across Kyle’s. The younger man’s hand rests on your leg, thumb gently stroking your ankle as you come back to sentience.

It’s like coming up from the undertow and getting your first gasp of air.

“There she is.” Johnny murmurs, smiling softly.

You were compelled - you know that much. It’s disorienting. You rub the corner of your eye, purposefully evening your breath. At least your clothes are all still in place. You don’t feel… touched. Not bitten either. A choked sigh escapes you against your will, hands trembling in your lap.

“You’re alright, dove.” John coos, cold breath puffing against your neck. A shiver runs down your spine. How much time has passed? When… what… “Can be hard t’come out of it, hm?”

“I’m okay...” You whisper.

“Have some water.” Kyle pushes a glass toward you. The concern on his face feels foreign.

A large, empty decanter of scotch sits in the center of the table accompanied by several empty glasses. That’s the closest hint you have to how long you’ve been here. You take the glass of water shakily and sip, leaving an imprint of red lipstick on the rim.

John continues to coo and soothe down your hair. His other hand travels down to rest on your hip, holding you in place against him. It’s strange… this feeling. You’ve been compelled before briefly but it wasn’t like this. John has to be strong. Old. He’s been around a while to have that kind of power - for it to be this difficult for you to come out of the haze. It’s taking more concentration to keep from crying than you’d like.

Stranger, though, is the way they watch you. The way John works you back to reality. Most vampires would have been inappropriate while you were gone, wouldn’t bother with the borderline aftercare needed when coming out from under their spell. Most would have left you slumped in the booth - drained of blood and pleasure - laughing as they went.

You clear your throat, sitting up a little straighter and gathering your wits. “Can I get you gentleman anything else?”

They share a look, one that you can’t quite interpret.

“You’re sure you’re alright?” John asks, voice low.

You look up at him with big eyes. Childlike, almost, staring up in wonder. It’s so strange how vampires aren’t quite white - they just lack the redness of life. The pink under the skin that signifies a beating heart and limited life span.

“I’m sure.”

John presses closer, breath caressing the shell of your ear. “Thank you for being so gracious f’us, tonight.

“Always…” There’s an honestly behind the word that startles you. A craving deep in your bones to prove yourself worthy of him and his men.

Strange.

“We best be on our way.” Simon rumbles, prompting Johnny to let him out of the booth.

John’s eyes flick between yours briefly before he moves you off of his lap with the gentle touch one might use when handling fine china. As much as you want to stay there, dazed and still coming down, you have work to do. So, you stand after them and begin slowly gathering the empty glasses on the tray. They feel heavier in your hand the normal.

A cold touch runs up your back and you freeze. Fingers trace the curve of your spine. You straighten, turning slowly only to meet those soft blue eyes again. John takes your hand, eyes alight with something you don’t understand. “I’ll tell the owner he’s wasting you as a servin’ girl. You’re made for more.”

Before you can even possibly decide how to respond, he’s gone. Disappeared through the curtain and into the forever night. Something crinkles in your hand. When you look down, slowly opening your fingers, the contents make your heart jump into your throat.

Cash. A massive roll of neatly banded cash.

How much is this? A thousand? More?

With frightened eyes and slippery hands you tuck the cash into the secret pocket of your coat. Having that much cash on your person is so out of your wheelhouse - out of the realm of possibility- you don’t know how to react.

You didn’t even get to say thank you.

Your mind whirls as you finish up your shift, eyes glazed over while slipping on your coat. The other girls look off put. A few whisper and stare.

What do they think you did?

Then again, you think as you brace yourself for the lurching and squealing of the metro, there isn’t any way to know what happened. Not unless one of the vampires tells you, and good luck prying any information out of one of them. Even if they tell you, they can just make you forget all over again.

How did you behave? Were you the same as always? Were you an entirely different person?

Some people forget themselves when under compulsion - every inhibition thrown to the wind carelessly. You need your inhibitions. They keep your job secure and yourself safe. You can’t afford carelessness.

The walk back home is tense. That small bulk in your pocket burns a hole though you as your mind runs with every possibility of what might have happened. What you might have done to earn such a massive tip. It can’t have been dignified, could it?

There’s no way they just like you. That’s not how vampires are.

It takes everything to motivate yourself to actually take off your clothing and jewelry before falling into bed. However long they had you, it drained you. Left you tired and shaky as you crawl under the thick bundle of quilts that make up for the lack of heating in your home.

Your eyes meet the wad of cash that barely fit in the inner pocket of your coat. It feels like a threat. Use me well or lose me forever! Make me count because you’ll never see me again!

For now, at least, you can bask in it.

[animasola86]

🦇 FANGS TO REMEMBER

m!vampires x f!reader 🔥 very explicit 🔥 words: 3.6k

On your way back to the party, you come across a graveyard. Unbeknownst to you, you are trespassing onto someone's property, and they are not happy about it. Or are they?

WARNINGS: NSFW! Explicit sexual content! Vampires! Noncon/dubcon! Threesome! Spitroasting! Biting! (READ ON AO3!)

A/N: This is part 5 of my CHOOSE YOUR OWN ADVENTURE smut series! 1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6 🔸 7 This is the continuation of OPTION 3/PART 4 - but can be read individually, let me just set the scene:

CONTEXT: You were invited to a Halloween party in a mysterious house, dressed as Little Red Riding Hood, and after drinking a strange drink, you decide to get some fresh air, running into a werewolf who instantly decides to knot and breed you, and after that ordeal is done, you flee from him, and come across a graveyard...

ADDITIONAL WARNING: This one is very dark. It's more noncon than dubcon, so if you don't like the themes, you can skip it (imagine something dark happening) and read the next part here.

You look around, but there's only one way forward: through the graveyard. It's too dark to see anything else, no maze, no garden, no house, you can't even see the cabin anymore you just left. The night is eerily quiet, no critters, nothing. Even the wind seems to take a break for now.

Inhaling deeply, you hug your arms around your body and take a step through the large wrought-iron gates, looking left and right at the rows of crooked tomb stones. A strange mist wafts close to the ground, giving off an otherworldly glow. The moon is long gone it seems, the sky too cloudy to show any stars, but still you can see the various shapes around you.

You're not easily spooked, usually, but being alone in a cemetery at night makes your imagination run wild, wilder than it has been all evening. The slightest movement makes you flinch as you tread carefully along the path, goosebumps rippling over your exposed skin whenever something brushes against your bare legs. The shirt is soft and warm, but in the end not long enough after all, no matter how hard you tug at its hem.

A sudden shuffling sound makes your blood run cold and you freeze on the spot, your heart beating out of your chest, cold fear gripping your limbs. It came from behind one of the larger tomb stones, decorated with a small angel statue. You stare into the darkness, pressing your lips together to keep the noises from spilling past them. Probably just an animal. Your mind is surely playing tricks on you.

But when the same sound comes from right behind you, you whirl around with a shriek, stumbling back as you see a large black shadow blocking your view. You expect to fall onto your butt, but something keeps you from it, another shadow – and this one has hands. Hands that grip your arms, holding you tightly. Another scream rips from your throat as you thrash about, trying to get away, before another hand finds its way to your mouth, muffling all the noises you want to let out.

Your eyes are wide when the shadows around you form into the shapes of two big men, pale in the eerie light, tall and muscular, dressed surprisingly well for creatures that lurk in the dark.

“What do we have here?” the one with his hand on your mouth says, tilting his head, giving you a smile that makes his handsome face look almost diabolical. “A little rabbit? In our cemetery?”

“Did you get lost, little one?” the other man, the one behind you, whispers as he leans his head closer, rubbing his smooth cheek against yours. It's cold to the touch.

You stiffen, unable to do or say anything. Maybe you're still dreaming, or again. But the way these men grab you feels too real. They are strong. Intimidatingly so. You swallow hard, gasping when the one behind you gives you a deep sniff.

“Ugh, she reeks of dog,” he says with a drawl. “Had some fun with the beast, didn't you?”

Suddenly you feel a hand between your legs, a cold touch, coaxing a muffled yelp out of you as you feel probing fingers right against your warm crotch. “Huh, yeah, he got to her alright. Filled to the brim...” He pulls his fingers away and raises them to your face, and you can see the thick substance coating them. “Too bad, really, I was looking forward to ravaging that sweet cunt...”

You glare at him, both in shock and indignation. He pulls his hand from your mouth and shoves his soiled fingers between your lips. A muffled grunt of protest slips from your throat, but your attempts to get away are futile as the other man still holds your arms tightly. A bitter and slightly salty taste fills your mouth, but with how the man presses his digits onto your tongue you can't do anything but flick it around them, licking them clean.

“At least she seems quite obedient,” he muses with a menacing tone, watching you closely, moving his fingers in and out of your mouth.

“We can still have some fun with her,” the man behind you says quietly, his nose nuzzling your neck. “He hasn't marked her yet. She's fair game.”

“Splendid,” the other replies with a laugh and pulls his fingers away with a wet popping sound. You quickly swallow the spit gathered on your tongue and lick your quivering lips. “So, little bunny, do you wanna try to run? I would die for a little hunt... if I wasn't already dead,” he adds with a reverberating laugh that makes you shiver deeply.

You just stare at him, your chest rising and falling faster. “I don't think she'll come far,” the man rubbing his hands over your arms retorts. “She seems weakened. The beast clearly got her good. Let's just enjoy her until her heart gives out, hm?”

You gasp at the implication, immediately silenced by a hand reaching out to grab your chin. “Fine. It is already enough to hear this beautiful beat,” the man in front of you whispers as he leans closer. “Are you scared, rabbit?”

Your eyes dart over his pale face, and when he bares his teeth and licks them slowly, you stare at his pointy canines. After having just met a real werewolf (or so you think, it's all so fuzzy in your head right now), you shouldn't be surprised to meet actual vampires, in a graveyard no less, pale and cold and strong, with sharp fangs and insatiable appetites, but your body still reacts as if you were indeed just a bunny cornered by two predators. A tiny whimper escapes your throat. “Please...”

“Hmm? Please what? Use your words, darling!” the man behind you snarls, rubbing his nose against your neck before you feel his lips on your pulse, nibbling teasingly.

“Please let me go...” you press out.

“Not going to happen, sweetheart,” he replies, his low voice muffled. “You came to us. Walked right onto our property. It's our right to do with you whatever we like...”

You squirm in his hold when he laps his tongue up your neck. The other man watches you, rubbing his thumb over your bottom lip before he suddenly leans closer, pressing his forehead to yours. You gasp, staring at him. “You won't regret it, little one,” he breathes against you. His skin feels cold, but the close proximity makes your cheeks burn up badly. “We'll give you a good time, don't worry your pretty little head!”

And suddenly you are being lifted, nausea rolling over you as you find yourself somehow floating in the air. It's all a blur at this point. Footsteps crunch over gravel and dead leaves, thump against stone plates, old hinges screech as a door is being opened. The fresh air becomes stale and dusty, the light even darker. You move down a set of stairs, but you can't move, your head is swimming, your insides tensing up in a way that borders on painful. You can barely breathe, and you have no idea why.

Candle light flickers to life when the men take you through a large wooden door. Your eyes blink into focus slowly. You seem to be in some sort of mausoleum, old looking, corners full of cobwebs, aged statues lining the walls. In the middle of the round room, there are two stone coffins, both of them open, their heavy stone slabs pushed to the side. You swallow hard, trying to see this as a scene, a decorated room fit for an elaborate Halloween party.

But somehow you doubt this is part of it.

“Excuse the mess,” one of the men says as he walks to the coffins. “We didn't expect company tonight...”

He raises a hand – and as you're being set down on your feet again, you witness how the heavy slab moves seemingly on its own or by a strange unseen force, leaving you even more confused. Both coffins are closed now, and before you can question anything else, you are being draped over the short side of one of them, stomach pressed to the cold stone, arms and legs hanging off the edges. A groan escapes you.

“Let's clean her up first, I can't stand the stink of wolf,” one man says as he steps behind you, pushing your legs further apart. You feel a strange coldness rushing through your body, like water, but not really wet, a sensation that leaves you choking on your own spit. “There, better. Don't you feel better too, darling? No longer stuffed full of disgusting beast semen? Well, I don't want to kink shame or anything, maybe you are into being bred, but we do like our holes squeaky clean – for us to soil all over again.”

You squirm on the stone slab, your hands trying to find purchase on the smooth surface, your legs kicking helplessly, but before you can do anything, the other man steps in front of you, grabbing your chin and lifting your head up. You find yourself face-to-face with his throbbing cock. They don't seem to waste any time, huh? He presses his thumb and finger into your cheeks, forcing your mouth open. You issue a groan of protest that is quickly muffled by his surprisingly warm member. You have no choice but to close your lips around it. (Even if you wanted to bite down on him, you couldn't, his hand is still holding your jaw open.)

“Good bunny, you know what to do, hm?” he tells you, slowly rolling his hips against you, his tip scraping along your gums, teasing at the back of your throat. Saliva pools on your tongue, and you feel the need to swallow it before it drips past your lips. When you do, he groans quietly. “Oh, yes, like that. Do that again.” Somehow his words seem to encourage you, and you swallow around him once more, straining your throat enough for tears to fill your eyes.

Behind you, you feel two cold hands rubbing up and down your thighs, gripping them, pulling them apart, before they slip up your rear and push the large shirt out of the way. “So I assume after your little werewolf ordeal, your poor little cunt is a little tired, wouldn't you agree?” he rasps teasingly. “Good thing you have another hole, huh, my sweet?”

You let out a series of muffled cries around the cock in your mouth when you feel probing fingers between your ass cheeks. “Mhmmnngh!” you croak out, thrashing on the stone slab, trying to get away. A sudden slap on your soft rear makes you howl, but ultimately stops your fidgeting. Your skin burns and throbs horribly. “Shh, relax, rabbit. You can take it. See?”

Before you can react, you feel a strange pressure against your sphincter, a teasing touch but unrelenting, and suddenly you have a finger in your ass. Your tight muscles clench around the thick digit, and you wriggle in your compromised position, almost gagging yourself on the dick between your lips when you push yourself against the man's groin and his cock deeper into your mouth. A jerk goes through your body, your hands fruitlessly trying to hold onto anything.

You don't feel in control of your limbs anymore, it's strange. You can feel everything, but you can't move, only rock back and forth on the coffin. The man behind you pushes his finger deeper, then pulls it out and replaces it with two. The stretch hurts, and you let out a muffled wail. Your noises seem to encourage him when he moves them in and out faster, deeper, a hard press against your protesting muscles.

Meanwhile the man holding your jaw increases the pace of his hips slamming against your face. His cock pushes deep, and you gag violently when he breaches your throat, your body convulsing, spit filling your mouth. He pulls back slightly, allows you to breathe and cough and swallow, but then repeats the motion, and you gag again, and the cycle continues. Your head is spinning by the fifth time he forced his length down your throat, and you feel too weak to protest anymore.

Not even when you notice that the man playing with your ass has added another finger and is plunging his hand hard against your rear, a dizzying rhythm, forceful, stretching you for whatever comes next. You can guess and it scares you. But there's nothing you can do as he suddenly pulls his fingers out with a wet pop and you feel his cockhead pressing against your slightly gaping hole. A deep grunt escapes him when he rocks his pelvis forward, sinking into your depths without mercy, carving his way through your impossible tightness.

Your muffled scream is overpowered by loud gurgling noises as the cock in your mouth pistons in and out fast, always pushing deep, bulging your neck, his crotch slapping into your face with each thrust. You are pushed and pulled, rocked back and forth, impaled front and back, cold hands holding your head up or digging into your hips as the two men use you for their pleasure, their grunts filling the space around you.

Despite their rough handling, you feel a strange heat growing inside you, and you realize that with every slam into your ass or snap into your throat, you are rubbed over the rough stone, and your clit quickly feels raw and swollen from the added stimulation. Moaning into the rapidly moving cock in your mouth, you focus on the good feelings, not the burning friction in your rear, not the rawness of your throat, the lack of air or the helplessness, just the bliss that tries to fight through the pain and discomfort.

But before you can even imagine any edge to fall over, they suddenly slow down, languid strokes that push deep until they stop altogether, one cock buried deep in your ass, the other pushed all the way down your throat as pubic hair tickles your nostrils. Your eyes roll back, your lungs burn, your body spasms fruitlessly. Groans echo in your ear.

“Let's turn her around,” one says.

“You wanna switch places too?” the other replies, almost a little breathlessly.

“Sure, I bet she doesn't mind a little ass to mouth action, huh, sugar?”

A loud slap against your bruised rear makes you gag violently, and as spit fills your mouth and tears stream down your face, you are being rotated on the cold stone slab, arms still hanging limply to the ground while your legs twitch as they're being pushed up and against your heaving chest, opening you up further. Cold air brushes over your exposed skin, and for a short moment they let go of you, cocks pull back, leaving trails of stickiness all over your face and crotch.

You are lightheaded, barely able to function, and that moment of reprieve is short-lived. You didn't even get the chance to swallow or breathe properly before a cock is being shoved back into your mouth. Hands curl around the back of your head, holding it up as the stiff and slimy length is pushed straight into your bruised throat. You can only croak out a muffled grunt before a heavy pair of balls slam against your nose.

“Tongue out,” the man above you orders, and you comply, hoping it'll be easier with your mouth wide open and your tongue extended to guide the throbbing cock in and out. “Good. Just like that. Look at that neck bulging. Ugh,” he continues, groaning as he rams deep into your throat and rests there, cutting off any air flow you may have had earlier. You squirm on the coffin, limbs twitching helplessly.

Before you drift off into unconsciousness, he pulls back and slaps your cheek. The pain drags you back immediately. “No fainting, rabbit, we need you awake for this.” You cough hoarsely, spit and precum flying through the air. You're too weak to open your eyes, and it doesn't matter anyway. His hand is on your neck now, squeezing slightly. “Ahh, yes, listen to that frantic heartbeat,” he rasps, slowly slipping his cock back between your lips. “Are you afraid to choke, hm? Or does that turn you on?”

You gag when he presses into your throat slowly, your whole body jerking against the man on the other side, who's holding your legs open and pressed to your chest. You are allowed to cough and swallow before it happens all over again, again and again, and while one man fucks your throat with reckless abandon, the other rubs his cold hand down your mound, teasing at your swollen clit, parting your puffy labia, but then he dips his finger into your ass, completely ignoring your hungrily clenching cunt.

There's no further preparation, and a moment later he shoves his cock into your tight hole, making you wail against the dick in your throat. He lets go of your legs, causing them to flop about wildly with each thrust as he starts pounding into you hard and fast, then you feel his long fingers on your burrowed shirt. You barely register how it's ripped open, but you do feel those cold palms pressing onto your soft mounds, pebbling your skin, your nipples hardening instantly. The touch is almost soothing among all the other things happening to you.

It's a whirlwind of sensations, the lack of air and strain to your throat and jaw on one side, the rough friction and burning heat and hard pummeling on the other. You are moved back and forth on the stone surface, a limp body to be used. You don't know how long this is going on, but these guys seem to have incredible stamina. They just won't stop.

Whenever you feel as if you're slipping into the welcoming darkness, you are slapped and brought back, your cheeks burning and throbbing, but it's only one of many aches by now. You can't decide which is worse, the suffocating stretch when a cock buries deep into your throat, or the rough pummeling of sore muscles when the other cock rams into your tight ass. It's all a blur in the end.

The men are groaning and grunting, snapping their hips against you, uncaring of your discomforts. They're chasing their own orgasms while you remain teetering far away from any sort of release. The room is filled with loud squelching noises, gurgles and slurps, slapping of skin against skin, a soundscape that seems to be your only form of stimulation. Not even the cold hands on your breasts push you further to the edge, they are just there, holding you, groping hard, anchoring you as you are pushed back and forth.

At least they have a rhythm now, in and out in an alternating way, almost like a seesaw, in goes the one in your throat, out moves the one in your ass, and then it's the other way around. And somehow you find comfort in it as you lie there, held in place, unable to move, your eyelids fluttering, tears and snot drying on your sweat-slick skin.

It's then that you feel cold fingers brushing down your quivering belly, down, down, until they rub against your clit, and you arch your back, inhale that cock in your throat, jerk your hips against the one pounding into your ass, and you come, clenching down hard, stiffening, eyes rolling back, bliss exploding through the veils of darkness.

You feel like floating, leaning into the wave of pleasure that washes over you as you let it all happen. And as you do, the men's motions grow jerkier, rougher, faster, and they come too, almost at the same time. Cum shoots down your throat, and you'd expect to feel the same sensation in your ass, but the man there pulls out and empties himself all over your mound and stomach, all the way to your neck. The pressure in your throat loosens then, and similar spurts of wet warmth hit your face.

Raspy breaths make it past your soiled, swollen lips as you lie there with your eyes closed. Strong hands move you until you're lying fully on your back, legs outstretched, arms put at the sides of your body, head supported by the hard stone slab beneath you. Cold fingers trail your skin.

“I wish we could keep her,” you hear a quiet voice that barely makes it past the cotton in your head.

“I'm not risking another war with those savages just because of one puny human...” says a different voice. “We'll find another one.”

“Let's feed and get her back onto the path.”

You blink your eyes open, noticing the two men, the two vampires, standing over you, staring down at you from both sides of the coffin. Their teeth are bared, fangs glistening in the swaying candle light, and before you can do anything, they lean down, one goes straight for your neck, his pointy canines sinking deeply into your skin, and you feel it, despite your fucked-out state, you feel the cold crashing through your veins.

The same sensation happens between your legs, on one of your inner thighs as the other bites down into your soft flesh. You whimper soundlessly, throat hoarse and sore, body too weak to move against the assault. They suck your blood noisily, like the thirsty monsters they are, and you just let it happen, again, what other choice do you have? Your head is spinning as you feel the cold spread through your trembling limbs.

And the world fades...

1 🔸 2 🔸 3 🔸 4 🔸 5 🔸 6 🔸 7

End notes: The last part is here!

By the way, this is a nod towards my standalone Vampire oneshot Down the Rabbit Hole which also has dubcon elements and more than one vampire, but isn't as dark.

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

[blingblong55]

Closer -John "Soap" MacTavish x F!Reader x Simon "Ghost" Riley NSFW

Photo credit for that Ghost work to @ave661

Based on a request: I need smut on Werewolf!Soap and Vampire!Ghost, it keeps me alive and afloat 😔❤️ Closer by Nine Inch Nails A/N: Imagine riding Soap to this song as Ghost's fangs dig into your neck🫠. I mean, you can't convince me they don't have an orgy with this song in the background ---- F!Reader, 18+, MDNI, smut, monster!au, werewolf!Soap, vampire!Ghost, threesome, unprotected!sex, human!reader, dom!Soap, dom!Ghost, sub!reader, blood!play, pup!play/bondage, rough!sex ---- A/N: straight into it so I hope this meets your expectations…

You are straddling Soap's hips on the red velvet sheets that made the bed. Ghost's fangs dig into you as his fat and needy cock gets buried deep inside your tightness. Soap, watching from under you, hands behind his head as with amusement he holds the pink leash that holds your neck close to him.

They were right, a sweet and small little human like you wasn't ready for the punishment your strange neighbours had for you. Your tight and small hole getting fucked relentlessly by Ghost as Soap had you riding his girthy cock. Between praises and slaps you found yourself having your third orgasm of the evening. No one said that pleasing men with great stamina were easy but you can take it, can't you?

The dark walls, filled with old portraits and your soft body adorned the room. Cum leaked from your cunt and tight ass. Your mouth drooling from when Soap began to fill your mouth with his fist. Your tits bounce and occasionally slap on Soap's hard and hairy chest. Growls of excitement and hunger for more of this fuck dinner getting louder. Tears run down your face when the sharp dagger in Ghost's hand rips the thin fabric of your lacy bra. The blade made some blood run down, which only excited Ghost when he watched Soap's finger pick some of the crimson and make you lick his fingers clean.

If only they had told you earlier that they didn't need a good catholic slut to come and collect old Bibles but instead, that they wanted to corrupt your body, blood and those tasty holes of yours.

Blood drunk, that is what Ghost is as he filled your ass with more of his thick seed. Soap pulls on the leash, "Kiss me, slut," he grunts, his cock so deep inside of you that your wet cunt aches. Your lips meet his and his sharp teeth make your sweet mouth leak blood, this only makes Ghost feral.

Both men pounding into you. Their meaty cocks and balls are ready to just fill you up over and over until you learn to not go into strange homes.

Ghost takes hold of your neck, tilting it to the side to get more of that sweet and addicting blood you have.

Soap like the absolute beast he is begins to fight for dominance. Both men laugh as all you can do is control you, their submissive pet reminded of why she is kept alive. And you wouldn't complain, would you?

Ghost almost makes you pass out but before he can, Soap pushes him off, flips himself over and takes you from behind. His balls slapped against your aching cunt as you took his size so well. Just before he slaps that red face of yours, your pretty and tight hole gets stuffed and spread wide by his fat cock that leaks his creamy seed. Your moans and cries of pleasure mixed in with his growls and grunts.

Ghost watches this with amusement, he knows a good girl like you could take a size or two but not something remotely close to Soaps.

Finally, when they undo your wrist restraints and unleash you, both men massage your body. Whispering sweet praises for taking them so well and knowing that they were too pleased, they will certainly ask the priest to let you visit their home for some "prayers".

"Shh, it's okay, you did a good job," Ghost licks and kisses the blood from your body. "Yeah, you did so well for us, lass," Soap wipes the tears from your delicate face.

A/N: Short I know but...it's all my brain came up with

Tags:

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