#the world is a blood sucking creature of the night

[suggiesug]

regardless of all my malcontent i am but a rodent in a containment chamber 😔

[zeroxxlhero]

Beastly Instincts • Vi & Caitlyn Kiramman

Warnings: 18+ characters, begging, edging, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, dom! Vi, sub! Reader, dom! Caitlyn, hair-pulling, double penetration, blowjobs, rough sex, foreplay, biting, blood-sucking, gp! Vi and Caitlyn, multiple orgasms

Pairings: Violet x You, Caitlyn x You, Vi x Caitlyn

Fandom: Arcane (League of Legends)

Caitlyn and Vi’s growing desperation leads to them initiating a search for you, their hunger not just for your blood but for the power and control you exude. It’s a game of cat and mouse, but you’ve turned it into something far more dangerous—a trap they walked into willingly, even knowing they might never escape.

The night was still, save for the whisper of wind that rustled through the leaves and carried the scent of the hunt. Caitlyn and Vi moved through the dense forest, side by side but worlds apart in focus. Both were creatures of power, bound by their instincts yet driven by something far more dangerous: the memory of you. The two of them had felt the pull of your blood, the intoxicating lure of the power and pleasure you’d given them, and now they wanted more.

No, they needed more.

“I told you, she’s not just some ordinary hunter,” Caitlyn hissed under her breath, her sharp eyes scanning the undergrowth. Her voice was measured, calculated, but there was a fire burning behind her composed demeanor. “She’s clever. She won’t make this easy.”

Vi frowned, flexing her fists as she cracked her knuckles. “Doesn’t matter how clever she thinks she is. I can track anything. We’ll find her.” Her confidence radiated like heat, but even she couldn’t deny the gnawing frustration clawing at her gut. She could still feel the phantom touch of your hands, the intoxicating tease of your presence, and it was driving her mad.

They moved in silence for a time, their heightened senses alert to every sound, every shift of the shadows. Caitlyn’s nostrils flared as she caught a faint trace of your scent on the wind, and her heart raced despite herself. It was subtle, almost maddeningly so, but it was there.

“She’s close,” Caitlyn muttered, her voice low and sharp.

Vi paused, tilting her head to catch the scent as well. Her body tensed like a spring ready to snap. “I’ve got it too. Let’s move.”

The hunt continued, the two predators weaving through the trees with predatory grace. They followed the faintest traces of you—a broken branch here, a scuffed footprint there. You were taunting them, leaving just enough of a trail to keep them chasing but never enough to catch you.

“She’s playing with us,” Caitlyn growled, her fangs glinting in the moonlight. The edge of frustration in her voice was unmistakable, and Vi couldn’t help but smirk at her partner’s irritation.

“She’s good,” Vi admitted. “But she’s not perfect. Everyone slips up eventually.”

But deep down, both of them knew better. You weren’t slipping up. You were toying with them, leading them deeper into the forest, away from any semblance of control they thought they had. And that only made them want you more.

As they pushed forward, the air seemed to thicken, the tension between them growing. Caitlyn’s normally cold composure was fraying at the edges, her mind clouded with the memory of you—the way your blood had tasted, the way your voice had dripped with authority, the way you’d held complete control over her.

Vi, on the other hand, was practically vibrating with anticipation. She wasn’t the type to overthink things. She wanted action, and she wanted it now. The waiting, the searching, the endless chase—it was driving her insane.

Finally, the faint scent of smoke reached their noses, and both women froze. Their eyes locked, a silent understanding passing between them. This was it. You were close.

They approached the source carefully, their bodies low and their senses on high alert. The scent of smoke was stronger now, mingled with something that made their blood sing—the faint, heady trace of you. It was enough to make Caitlyn’s mouth water and Vi’s heart race.

The small campsite came into view, the dying embers of a fire casting flickering shadows against the trees. But the clearing was empty.

“Damn it,” Vi muttered under her breath, her frustration boiling over. “She was here.”

Caitlyn’s sharp eyes scanned the area, her mind racing. She didn’t believe for a second that you’d just left without a reason. “Be careful,” she warned. “This could be—”

Before she could finish, a low, melodic chuckle echoed through the trees, stopping both women in their tracks. It was your voice, smooth and mocking, and it sent a shiver down their spines.

“Well, well,” you drawled, stepping out of the shadows with a predator’s grace. “Look who came crawling back.”

Caitlyn and Vi spun to face you, their bodies tense and ready, but there was no mistaking the hunger in their eyes. You stood before them, calm and composed, as if you hadn’t been the one hunted all night.

“Miss me that much, did you?” you teased, your lips curling into a smirk.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” Caitlyn snapped, though the sharp edge of her voice faltered as her eyes darted to the faint cut on your arm, the scent of your blood filling the air once more.

Vi growled low in her throat, her fists clenching at her sides. “You’re not getting away this time.”

You laughed softly, the sound like velvet, and took a slow step closer. “Oh, sweet Vi,” you said, your voice dripping with amusement. “You think this little hunt was for me? No, darling, it was for you. Both of you.”

Caitlyn’s breath hitched as she realized just how completely you’d played them. You hadn’t been running from them—you’d been leading them, controlling the entire game from the start. And now, standing before you, she felt it again—that pull, that undeniable need that made her knees weak and her resolve waver.

“Now,” you said, your smile widening as you looked between them. “Why don’t we see just how desperate you’ve both become?”

The tension in the clearing was palpable, the air charged with the energy of two predators sizing up their prey—or so they thought. Vi cracked her knuckles, her grin more animalistic than confident now, while Caitlyn’s glowing eyes locked onto you, her sharp fangs bared as she gauged your every move.

“Enough,” Vi growled, her voice low and feral. “Let’s end this.”

The first strike came fast, almost too fast. Vi lunged forward, her fist aimed squarely at your jaw, the sheer force of her punch enough to snap a tree in half. But you sidestepped at the last second, your movements smooth and precise, as if you’d been expecting it all along. Her fist sailed past, hitting nothing but air.

Before Vi could recover, Caitlyn was already on you, her speed a blur as she closed the distance and swiped at you with claws sharp enough to cut steel. You ducked low, feeling the rush of air as her claws missed your head by inches. With a fluid motion, you spun and brought your leg up, kicking Caitlyn squarely in the chest and sending her stumbling back a few feet.

“You’re both getting sloppy,” you taunted, your voice calm despite the adrenaline coursing through your veins. “I expected better from Piltover’s finest.”

Vi snarled, her frustration bubbling over. “Shut up!” She came at you again, this time with a flurry of punches that were faster and more erratic. But for every strike, you had a counter. You weaved between her attacks, your body moving like water, fluid and untouchable. The sound of her fists cutting through the air was deafening, but not a single blow landed.

Caitlyn, meanwhile, had regained her footing. She darted in from the side, attempting to catch you off guard. Her claws flashed in the moonlight as she aimed for your throat, but you dropped into a low slide, narrowly avoiding her strike. As you slid past her, you hooked your leg around her ankle, causing her to trip and tumble to the ground.

The two women regrouped, panting slightly but far from finished. Their eyes burned with determination, and something more—something wild. They weren’t just fighting anymore. They were hunting. And they were losing themselves to the thrill of it.

“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you asked, your smirk infuriatingly smug as you straightened up. “Letting the beast out. Doesn’t it feel good?”

“Shut your mouth,” Caitlyn snapped, her voice low and venomous. She wiped a trickle of blood from her lip, her eyes narrowing as she glared at you.

Vi growled, her muscles tensing as she prepared to charge again. “You’re not getting out of this one. Not alive.”

You feigned heartbreak, “Oh, Vi, I can’t believe you would do such a thing to me. I thought we were just getting closer.”

This time, they came at you together, their movements coordinated and feral. Caitlyn moved with the precision of a predator, her strikes calculated and deadly, while Vi was raw power, her punches shaking the very ground beneath your feet. But even as they pushed themselves harder, faster, more monstrous, you kept up.

You ducked under Vi’s punch, countered Caitlyn’s clawed swipe with a swift kick to her side, and leapt over a combined attack that would have torn any other opponent to shreds. Your movements were almost… effortless.

It was starting to sink in for them. You weren’t just skilled. You weren’t just lucky. You were something else.

“What the hell are you?” Vi snarled, her chest heaving as she circled you. There was a flicker of doubt in her eyes now, and she hated it. Hated that you were still standing, still smirking, still in control.

Caitlyn’s gaze was sharper, more analytical even in her feral state. She could feel it—the wrongness of you. The way you moved, the way you fought, the way you seemed to anticipate their every move. “You’re not human,” she said, her voice quieter but no less dangerous. “Are you?”

You tilted your head, your smirk widening. “I wouldn’t make that assumption.”

Their silence was telling. For all their bravado, for all their power, they were realizing just how outmatched they were.

But the fight wasn’t over. Not yet.

Caitlyn lunged at you again, her movements a blur as she aimed straight for your throat. You sidestepped, grabbing her wrist and twisting it behind her back with a speed that shouldn’t have been possible. She hissed in pain but didn’t cry out, her pride refusing to let you see her weakness.

Vi charged in next, her fists glowing faintly with a hint of her suppressed power. You released Caitlyn just in time to dodge Vi’s attack, her punch grazing your ribs but not quite connecting. You spun, your foot sweeping out to catch Vi’s ankle, but she jumped back, snarling in frustration.

“Getting tired, are we?” you teased, your tone infuriatingly calm as you faced them both. “You can keep going if you want, but I think we all know how this ends.”

They didn’t respond. Words weren’t necessary anymore. They were too far gone, too lost in the hunt, too consumed by the memory of you and the maddening need to have you at their mercy.

The fight reached a boiling point, the air around you thick with tension and fury. Vi and Caitlyn moved with increasing speed and power, their attacks fueled by frustration and primal rage. They weren’t holding back anymore, their monstrous sides emerging as they fought with a ferocity that would have overwhelmed any normal opponent.

But you weren’t normal, were you?

Vi charged forward, her punches coming in a blur of motion, each one powerful enough to shatter stone. You weaved through them effortlessly, your movements precise and almost lazy, like a predator playing with its prey. Caitlyn flanked her, her claws aimed at your side, but you ducked and spun away, leaving them to collide with each other in their frenzy.

“You’re getting sloppy,” you taunted, sidestepping another wild swing from Vi. “I thought you two were supposed to be the best of the best. Guess I was wrong.”

Vi growled, her voice guttural as her frustration mounted. “Stand still, you coward!”

She lunged at you, her fist glowing faintly with suppressed power, but you sidestepped her again, grabbing her arm mid-swing. With a fluid motion, you flipped over her, twisting her arm behind her back and forcing her into an excruciatingly arched position. She let out a strained snarl, her muscles trembling with the effort to break free.

Leaning in close, you grinned, revealing a pair of sharp fangs. “Tell me, Vi,” you murmured, your voice low and mocking. “Do you have a preference? Vampires… or humans?” Your teeth hovered dangerously close to her throat, the promise of a bite lingering in the air.

Before you could make good on your threat, Caitlyn’s furious snarl ripped through the chaos. She charged at you, her glowing eyes blazing with fury. You shoved Vi away just in time, sending her tumbling to the ground, and dissolved into a swirling black mist as Caitlyn’s claws swiped through where you’d been a moment before.

The mist reformed behind her, and when she turned, her eyes widened in shock. You stood there, no longer the calm, human figure they’d been fighting. Your amber eyes glowed like molten gold, and your hands had morphed into claws sharp enough to tear through steel. The faint outline of fur traced your arms, and your grin was sharp and predatory.

“Werewolves, Caitlyn,” you said, your voice a low rumble. “Not all of them are mindless beasts. Some of them know how to have a little fun.”

Caitlyn froze, her feral instincts clashing with the disbelief on her face. “You’re—you’re a wolf?” Her voice faltered, her confusion and rage warring with each other.

Vi, picking herself up from the ground, stared at you with wide, disbelieving eyes. “That’s not possible,” she muttered, shaking her head. “You’re—you’re human.”

You chuckled darkly, flexing your claws as you regarded them with an almost casual air. “You’re right, I am human. I bleed like a human. Smell like one too. It’s what makes the hunt so much more fun.” You took a step closer, your eyes flicking between the two of them. “But you’ve felt it, haven’t you? That little itch in the back of your mind telling you something’s off? You knew I wasn’t normal.”

Caitlyn growled low in her throat, her glowing eyes narrowing as she tried to reconcile what she was seeing. “What are you?” she demanded, her voice sharp with accusation.

You tilted your head, your grin widening. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

Their rage reignited, and this time, there was no holding back. Vi lunged at you with a roar, her fists swinging with a force that made the ground tremble. Caitlyn flanked her, her claws slicing through the air with deadly precision. Their movements were faster now, more animalistic, their monstrous sides fully unleashed.

For the first time, you had to take them seriously. You met Vi’s punch with a block, the impact sending a shockwave through the ground, and twisted to avoid Caitlyn’s claws, her strike barely grazing your side. Their power was overwhelming, even for you, and you found yourself being pushed back.

But you didn’t lose your composure. Instead, you smirked, your movements becoming even more fluid as you dodged and countered their attacks. “You’re both getting desperate,” you teased, sliding under Vi’s swing and narrowly avoiding Caitlyn’s strike. “It’s cute.”

Caitlyn let out a snarl of frustration, her claws glowing faintly as she lashed out again. Vi followed up with a punch aimed directly at your head, but you ducked under it, grabbing her arm and twisting her to the side.

“You’re not human,” Vi growled, her voice strained as she tried to break free. “You can’t be.”

“Good observation,” you said with a smirk, tossing her aside and dodging Caitlyn’s attack in the same motion. “Took you long enough.”

Their feral instincts had fully taken over now, their attacks wild and relentless. But you knew when it was time to end a game. As Vi charged at you again, her fists glowing with raw power, you dissolved into black mist once more, letting her attack pass harmlessly through you.

The mist swirled around them, disorienting them as they tried to locate you. “Time to cool off,” your voice echoed from everywhere and nowhere, tinged with amusement.

When the mist dissipated, you were gone, leaving Vi and Caitlyn standing there, panting and furious, their monstrous sides still clawing for control. But in the quiet that followed, one thing was clear: they hadn’t even begun to uncover the truth of what you were.

Caitlyn’s rage was unstoppable. Her mind clouded by the thirst, her vision tunneled to the scent of your blood. It consumed her completely, driving her to abandon everything else—reason, restraint, and her usual calm. She felt herself losing control with every step, and though Vi’s voice echoed behind her, calling her name and trying to pull her back, Caitlyn couldn’t stop. The hunger was a beast inside her, and it was all she could do to keep it at bay long enough to follow your trail.

She tore through the streets with frightening speed, her senses sharpened, homing in on your scent as it led her to a small, dimly lit town. She stalked through the streets, her fangs already extended, eyes burning with that bloodlust that had taken over her. The people she passed didn’t even notice the air around her change, but she could hear the beat of their hearts, smell the warmth of their blood. She had to hold back. She was going to find you. She was going to make you pay, but she couldn’t show her powers to anyone, not yet. The town had no idea what was coming, and she was going to keep it that way.

Finally, she reached the bar where the scent of you was thick, almost suffocating. The door creaked open as she slipped inside, scanning the room with a predator’s gaze. And there you were. Sitting at the bar, so casual, as if you weren’t the cause of everything that had broken inside her. The moment your eyes met, she could feel that familiar wave of fury crashing over her again.

Her fangs elongated, her hands trembling with the effort to control her power. Her eyes flashed red, and a low growl rumbled from her throat. She didn’t care about the eyes that were starting to look her way; you were the only thing that mattered. She stalked toward you, her every step radiating pure menace. There was no reasoning left in her, no fear. Just the unrelenting need to tear you apart, to drink from you until there was nothing left.

But you didn’t flinch. Instead, you smirked, your posture relaxed as you watched her approach, your eyes gleaming with amusement. “Careful, Caitlyn,” you warned, your voice smooth, deliberate. “You don’t want to make a scene in front of a bunch of hunters. They’d take you down faster than you could say your mother’s name.”

Her eyes narrowed, and the rage in them intensified, but there was a moment of hesitation. She could feel the presence of others in the room now. The hunters, the ones who had been lurking, waiting. Her bloodlust was on the verge of consuming her completely, but you had her on the edge of two choices—fight or retreat.

She didn’t listen. She lunged, her body a blur of motion, intent on bringing you to your knees.

But you were ready. Faster than she could process, you reached out and grabbed her by the collar, yanking her forward with force that made her stumble. The shock of it hit her like a jolt of cold water, and for a split second, she froze. Her fangs were still bared, her lips curled in a snarl, but there was no action. Not yet.

And then, in one swift movement, you pulled her into a kiss. It was forceful, demanding, and Caitlyn’s mind went blank. Her breath hitched, her body stiffened in surprise, but there was something strangely calming in your touch, a strange power in your control. The hunger in her lessened, her senses buzzing as she tried to regain control over herself.

“Relax,” you murmured against her lips, your voice low and teasing. “You’ll be able to show me those scary vampire powers later.”

Something inside her shifted. The red in her eyes dulled, just a fraction, enough for her to think clearly again. She pushed against you, still furious, but she couldn’t shake the unsettling calm you had instilled in her.

You released her from the kiss and pushed her gently but firmly into a chair. “Stay seated,” you said, your tone firm but not unkind. “Let the storm pass for now.”

Caitlyn was still seething, her heart pounding with frustration, but the primal rage that had gripped her was fading. She remained seated, her fangs retracting, her breath returning to a more normal pace. She clenched her fists, silently simmering in the chair, the tension still thick in the air.

Moments later, the door to the bar creaked open again, and Vi stepped inside. Her eyes scanned the room, locking onto Caitlyn before her gaze shifted to you. The tension between the three of you was palpable. Vi’s eyes narrowed, her jaw clenched. She stalked toward the table, every step measured and cautious, a predator assessing her prey.

As Vi moved to stand beside Caitlyn, you leaned back in your chair, unfazed, a subtle smirk playing on your lips. “Don’t make any threatening moves, Vi,” you warned, your voice calm but edged with something darker. “One of the hunters in this room will be wearing your canines as a necklace before the night is over.”

Vi paused, her gaze flicking toward the people around the bar. She looked at Caitlyn, the two of them silently communicating with just a glance, both of them reluctantly understanding the situation. Slowly, without another word, Vi took a seat at the table across from you.

You watched the two of them closely, the tension between them and the room shifting into something more controlled, more calculated. The game had changed.

Now, you were in charge.

And they knew it.

“What now?” Caitlyn finally spoke, her voice quiet, but the edge of her anger still evident.

You met her gaze, your smile never wavering. “Now, we wait,” you said simply. “But don’t think for a second that I’m going to make this easy for either of you.”

Vi and Caitlyn exchanged another look, both of them more aware than ever that they were dealing with someone who wasn’t just playing by the rules—they were dealing with someone who made their rules.

And the night was just beginning.

The moment stretched unbearably for Vi and Caitlyn as they sat across from you, forced to watch while you leisurely sipped your drink. The tension between you all was palpable, a wire stretched to its breaking point. For them, it felt like an eternity of restraint, each tick of the clock dragging them further into frustration. You were composed, maddeningly so, your casual demeanor only fueling their growing impatience. Caitlyn’s knuckles were white against the table, her nails threatening to break the wood beneath them. Vi, though trying to appear calmer, had her leg bouncing under the table, a clear sign of her fraying patience.

Finally, Caitlyn snapped. She slammed her hand onto the table, leaning forward with a glare so sharp it could have cut glass. “Enough games,” she growled, her voice low but brimming with fury. “Why are you doing this? Why us? Everything you’ve done—every little game—it’s all been to get our attention, hasn’t it? You knew we’d fall for it. Every single time.”

You didn’t flinch. Instead, you smirked, the glint in your eyes both infuriating and captivating. Swirling the last of your drink, you finally set the glass down with a deliberate clink and leaned back in your chair, as if you were pondering her question. “You know,” you began, your tone playful yet cutting, “I think you’re starting to figure it out.”

Caitlyn’s glare darkened, her fangs peeking through as she fought to keep her composure. Vi’s gaze darted between you and Caitlyn, her own frustration evident, though she held back, letting her partner do the talking for now.

“You’re good little beasts,” you continued, your voice dripping with amusement. “Always coming running the second you catch my scent. Obedient, relentless… predictable.” You leaned forward slightly, locking eyes with Caitlyn. “You want to know why? Because you like it. The chase, the fight, the thrill—you crave it, even if you won’t admit it.”

Caitlyn’s jaw tightened, and Vi’s fists clenched, her patience wearing thin. But before either could respond, you leaned closer to Caitlyn, your smirk growing into something sharper, more dangerous. Your movements were slow, deliberate, as you bit down hard on your lower lip. The metallic tang of blood filled the air, and the effect was immediate.

Caitlyn froze, her gaze snapping to your lips, where a thin line of crimson welled up. Her nostrils flared, and her pupils dilated, a flash of red overtaking her irises as her vampire instincts surged to the surface. She gripped the table tightly, her claws beginning to dig into the wood as she fought to maintain control. Her composure was slipping, her breathing becoming shallow and uneven.

You tilted your head slightly, your voice dropping to a low, almost taunting murmur. “Do you want it, Caitlyn?”

Her lips parted, but no words came out. Her attention was solely fixed on the blood, the scent drawing her in like a moth to a flame. She barely registered your words as her instincts battled with her self-control.

“Go on,” you encouraged, your tone soft but laced with a challenge. “Clean it up. I won’t stop you.”

For a moment, Caitlyn’s restraint faltered entirely. She leaned closer, her fangs fully extended now, her breath ragged. Her gaze flicked to yours, and for a fleeting second, there was hesitation—perhaps a trace of shame or conflict. But it was quickly swallowed by the primal hunger surging through her.

She closed the distance, her movements almost trembling with need, and before she could second-guess herself, her lips brushed against yours. Her fangs scraped lightly against your skin as her tongue darted out, catching the bead of blood that threatened to spill. The taste was electric, a jolt that sent her instincts spiraling out of control.

Vi’s voice cut through the haze like a whip. “Caitlyn,” she snapped, her tone sharp, though it lacked the full conviction of disapproval. There was a flicker of something else in her voice—curiosity, maybe even jealousy.

But Caitlyn didn’t pull back. If anything, Vi’s interruption only made her grip on the moment tighten. Her hands, still clenched against the table, trembled as she fought to maintain some semblance of control while indulging in the taste of you.

You chuckled softly, your voice steady despite the ferocity in Caitlyn’s actions. “There you go,” you murmured, almost teasingly. “Good girl.”

The words seemed to snap something in Caitlyn. She growled low in her throat, the sound vibrating against your lips as she pulled back slightly, her crimson-stained eyes locking onto yours. For a moment, the room seemed to shrink around you both, the rest of the world fading into irrelevance.

Vi, still seated, was tense, her hands gripping the edge of the table as she watched the exchange with an unreadable expression. There was a flicker of conflict in her gaze, torn between stepping in and staying back.

You leaned back slightly, licking the corner of your lip as if reclaiming what Caitlyn had taken. “See?” you said, your voice smooth and confident. “You couldn’t help yourself.”

Caitlyn didn’t respond, her breathing still uneven as she fought to regain her composure. The hunger in her eyes hadn’t faded entirely, but there was something else there now—frustration, humiliation, maybe even a reluctant acknowledgment of the truth in your words.

You turned your attention to Vi, who was glaring at you with equal parts anger and intrigue. “What about you, Vi?” you asked, tilting your head slightly. “Are you going to sit there and pretend you’re above it? Or are you just waiting your turn?”

The challenge in your tone was unmistakable, and for a moment, Vi’s hands flexed, as if she were considering lunging across the table. But she stayed rooted in place, her jaw tight and her gaze locked onto yours.

“Thought so,” you said with a smirk, leaning back in your chair once again. The game was far from over, and you were enjoying every second of it.

The tension in the room thickened as you shifted your attention from Caitlyn to Vi, a slow, deliberate move that felt like a predator locking onto its next prey. Vi’s sharp blue eyes met yours, her expression a mix of defiance and barely concealed curiosity. You leaned back lazily, crossing your arms as if this were all a casual conversation instead of the charged, dangerous game it truly was.

“Hmm,” you began, your voice dripping with mock contemplation, loud enough to draw Caitlyn’s wary glare back to you. “I’ve always wondered what werewolves really liked. I mean, vampires? Easy. Blood, obviously. Power. Control. But werewolves…” Your eyes flicked to Vi, watching her jaw clench as her fingers gripped the edge of the table. “What’s the deal with them?”

Vi didn’t respond, but her eyes narrowed as she leaned slightly forward, her muscles tense. The corners of your mouth curled into a smirk, and you continued as if pondering the answer aloud.

“Is it the thrill of the hunt?” you mused, tilting your head. “The feeling of the ground under your claws as you chase your prey? Or maybe it’s the fight? That surge of adrenaline when you’re up against someone who won’t go down easy. Or…” You leaned in slightly, lowering your voice, and though your tone was quiet, it carried across the table like a taunt. “Maybe it’s something else entirely. Something more… primal?”

Vi’s breathing hitched ever so slightly, and you didn’t miss the way her eyes briefly flicked to your throat before she forced herself to look away. Her reaction only fueled your teasing.

“Do werewolves like to dominate?” you asked, your voice just loud enough for her to hear. “Or is it the opposite? Do they like to be pinned down, teeth at their throat, heart racing because they know they’re at someone else’s mercy?” You paused, letting the words hang in the air, watching as Vi’s hands flexed against the table, her knuckles turning white.

You leaned even closer, your voice dropping to a low murmur meant only for her. “What about you, Vi? Is that what you want? To take me down? Or…” Your smirk widened, your eyes gleaming with amusement as you delivered the next line with deliberate slowness. “Do you want me to do that to you?”

The reaction was immediate. Vi shot to her feet, the chair screeching against the floor as her fists slammed onto the table. Her expression was a volatile mix of anger and something darker, something she didn’t want to name but couldn’t entirely suppress. Caitlyn’s head snapped toward her partner, a flicker of concern breaking through her still-recovering composure.

“You think you’re funny, don’t you?” Vi growled, her voice low and dangerous. Her heightened senses made it impossible to ignore the steady rhythm of your heartbeat, and the maddeningly calm scent of you—human, yet not—only further stoked the fire in her veins.

You leaned back casually, unbothered by her outburst, and shrugged. “I mean, I’m entertaining myself, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Vi’s teeth bared slightly, and for a moment, it seemed like she was about to lunge across the table. Caitlyn’s hand shot out, gripping Vi’s arm, and though her strength was still shaky from her earlier loss of control, it was enough to hold Vi in place.

“Don’t,” Caitlyn warned, her voice sharp but tinged with the same frustration. She wasn’t defending you, not entirely—but she knew that causing a scene in this bar, surrounded by hunters, would end badly for both of them.

You watched the exchange with mild amusement, raising your glass for another sip before setting it down with deliberate slowness. “Careful, Vi,” you said, your tone mocking but underlined with a hint of genuine warning. “You wouldn’t want to prove me right, would you? That you’re just as predictable as your partner over here?”

Vi’s gaze burned into yours, her chest rising and falling with barely restrained rage. “I’m not predictable,” she hissed through gritted teeth.

“Could’ve fooled me,” you shot back, grinning. Then, as if to drive the point home, you added, “You came running just like she did. And you’re still here. And you keep coming back. Why is that, Vi? What’s keeping you glued to that spot? Is it the thrill? The challenge?” You tilted your head slightly, your grin sharpening into something more dangerous. “Or is it me?”

Caitlyn’s grip on Vi’s arm tightened, her crimson eyes narrowing as she spoke, her voice low but filled with warning. “Stop provoking her.”

You glanced at Caitlyn, your grin softening into a smirk. “Oh, I’m not provoking her. I’m just asking questions.” Then, turning your attention back to Vi, you added, “She’s the one getting worked up. Must’ve hit a nerve.”

Vi took a step back, her fists still clenched, her entire body trembling with the effort to keep her composure. For a moment, silence hung between you all, the tension thick enough to choke on. Then, Vi let out a slow, shuddering breath and sat back down, though her glare never left your face.

“Good girl,” you murmured, the words dripping with condescension, and Vi’s knuckles cracked as her fists tightened once again.

Caitlyn shot you a sharp look, her voice low and dangerous. “You’re walking a fine line.”

You met her gaze evenly, your smirk unshaken. “Oh, I know exactly where the line is.” You leaned back in your chair, folding your arms behind your head. “The question is, how long can you two stay on your side of it?”

The clink of coins on the counter marked the end of your drink as you finished it in one smooth motion, savoring the silence that followed. You rose from your seat with a fluidity that made even the smallest movement seem deliberate. Vi and Caitlyn, ever vigilant, mirrored your movement almost immediately, their eyes trained on you like hawks circling prey. Despite the seething animosity that practically radiated from them, neither could bring themselves to break away from your orbit.

As you adjusted your coat, you cast them a lazy glance over your shoulder, smirking faintly at how they followed so closely. “Well,” you announced, your voice calm but carrying just enough of an edge to draw their attention. “I think it’s about time I turned in for the night.”

“Like hell you are,” Vi growled, stepping closer, her sharp glare boring into you.

Caitlyn stood rigid beside her, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her crimson eyes glowing faintly under the dim bar lights. “After everything? You think you can just leave?” Her voice was clipped, the words escaping through clenched teeth.

Your smirk widened, clearly enjoying their defiance. “Oh? And why not?” you asked, your tone light but steeped in mockery. “What’s stopping me from walking out that door? Surely you’re not saying you need me to stay?”

Vi bristled at the implication, her fists tightening at her sides. “Don’t twist this around.”

“I don’t have to,” you replied easily, your gaze sliding between the two of them. “You’re both doing that just fine on your own.” You took a single step toward them, your presence almost suffocating as the smirk on your lips softened into something more mischievous. “So tell me—why can’t I leave? What is it you’re both so desperate to say but won’t?”

Silence fell between them, the tension palpable as they both stared at you, their emotions warring just beneath the surface. Caitlyn’s lips pressed into a thin line, her jaw tightening as she fought to keep control. Vi, on the other hand, looked ready to throw a punch, her body vibrating with barely contained frustration.

When neither of them spoke, you chuckled softly, shaking your head. “That’s what I thought,” you murmured, almost pityingly. Then you tilted your head, feigning curiosity as you asked, “Or maybe…” You paused, letting the words hang in the air. “Maybe you just don’t want me to go because deep down, you like this. The chase, the thrill. The fact that I’m the only one who can make you feel this alive.”

Their reactions were immediate. Vi’s eyes narrowed dangerously, her nostrils flaring as she clenched her fists tighter. Caitlyn’s crimson eyes glowed brighter, her composure cracking just enough to reveal the storm beneath.

Before they could argue, you took another step forward, this time closing the distance entirely. Standing between them, you reached out, one hand gently brushing against Vi’s cheek, the other cupping Caitlyn’s with a surprising tenderness. They both stiffened under your touch, their bodies rigid and their breathing shallow.

“There’s no shame in it,” you said softly, your voice low and almost soothing. “It’s natural to want to follow your instincts. To give in.” Your thumbs grazed their skin lightly before you pulled your hands away, your smirk returning as you straightened. “So… are you coming with me, or do I leave you here to brood?”

They exchanged a brief glance, their pride clearly warring with something deeper, something primal. And yet, neither of them moved to stop you as you turned toward the door. Instead, when you stepped outside into the cool night air, they followed, silent but determined, their presence a steady weight at your back.

You cast a glance over your shoulder as they fell into step behind you, their reluctance betrayed by the fire still burning in their eyes. With a faint chuckle, you reached out and patted them both on the cheek once more, a gesture that was equal parts condescending and oddly affectionate. “Good little beasts,” you murmured, your voice dripping with amusement as you began to lead the way. “This is going to be fun.”

..

The tavern was dimly lit and smelled faintly of ale and woodsmoke. You strode up to the front desk with the same air of confidence you always carried, Vi and Caitlyn trailing just behind you like reluctant shadows. The woman behind the counter, a middle-aged tavern keeper with a tired but pleasant face, perked up as you approached.

“I need a room,” you said smoothly, your voice low and calm. “Something soundproof.”

The request was simple, but it hung in the air like a thunderclap. The woman blinked, momentarily taken aback, her gaze flickering to Vi and Caitlyn, who stood rigid behind you. Caitlyn’s sharp, elegant features were still taut with barely contained tension, while Vi’s fists remained clenched at her sides, her glare aimed at the back of your head.

The tavern keeper’s cheeks turned a faint shade of pink as her imagination filled in the gaps. “Soundproof, you say?” she repeated, her voice faltering just slightly.

You gave her a polite, knowing smile, leaning an elbow on the counter as you added, “Yes, soundproof. Privacy is very important to me, you see.” Your tone was calm, but there was a hint of mischief dancing in your eyes that didn’t go unnoticed.

Her gaze darted to Caitlyn and Vi again, lingering on the two of them with a flustered expression. Caitlyn’s crimson eyes glowed faintly in the dim light, her vampiric features giving her a dangerous beauty that likely unnerved the woman. Vi, with her broad shoulders and tense stance, looked no less intimidating. The tavern keeper cleared her throat and fumbled for the ledger in front of her.

“Right, well,” she said quickly, avoiding direct eye contact as she flipped through the pages. “We do have a room that should meet your… requirements.” Her tone carried a distinct undertone of awkwardness, and you could see the way her hands trembled slightly as she scribbled something down.

You tilted your head slightly, watching her reaction with thinly veiled amusement. “Perfect,” you said, sliding a few coins across the counter. “I appreciate your discretion.”

The woman nodded quickly, still avoiding eye contact as she slid a key toward you. “Room at the end of the hall. Quiet as a graveyard. Should be just what you’re looking for.”

Her choice of words earned a faint chuckle from you. “Graveyard, hmm? Fitting.” You straightened, pocketing the key before casting a glance back at Vi and Caitlyn. “Come on, then,” you said casually, gesturing for them to follow.

As you turned, you caught the tavern keeper’s gaze darting between Caitlyn and Vi again, her expression a mix of confusion and embarrassment. She clearly didn’t know what to make of the situation, but she was far too polite—or too scared—to ask questions.

The three of you moved toward the stairs, the tension between you palpable. Caitlyn’s crimson eyes still glowed faintly, her composure hanging by a thread, while Vi’s scowl deepened with every step, her fists clenching and unclenching as if itching for a fight.

When you reached the room, you unlocked the door and stepped inside, leaving it open just long enough for them to follow. You didn’t bother waiting for them to settle in before leaning against the wall, arms crossed, and surveying them both with a faint smirk.

“Well,” you drawled, “now that we have some privacy, let’s talk.”

You leaned casually against the wall, your smirk widening as your eyes flicked between the two of them. Caitlyn’s crimson gaze was fixed on you, unblinking and unnervingly intense, while Vi stood a little behind her, arms crossed and jaw clenched tightly enough to crack. They both looked like predators cornered into an uneasy alliance, trying to decide whether to lunge or retreat.

You grin, an expression that was predatory and chilling.

“So,” you began, your voice low and teasing, “why is it, exactly, that you two are chasing me like this? Hmm? Can’t get enough of me? Or maybe…” You stepped forward, inching closer to Caitlyn with an almost predatory grace, “…you’re just bored and need a little excitement in your lives?”

Caitlyn stiffened as you approached, her jaw tightening. Her fangs gleamed faintly under the lantern light, and her red eyes never left yours, but she didn’t move. Vi, behind you, let out a low, irritated huff, but you could feel her tension like a coiled spring. She wasn’t going to make the first move—not yet.

Caitlyn’s composure finally cracked. She took a step forward, her fangs fully bared and her voice trembling with fury. “You’re toying with us,” she spat. “You think this is some game you’re in control of, but you have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

“Or,” you continued, tilting your head slightly as you closed the distance to Caitlyn, “maybe it’s something else. Something deeper. A craving you can’t quite ignore. A thrill you can’t resist.” Your voice dropped to a near whisper, soft and coaxing. “Is that it, Caitlyn? Am I the only one who can give you what you really want?”

Caitlyn’s breath hitched, her composure cracking for just a moment before she forced herself back into control. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides, her nails digging into her palms. She didn’t answer, but the way her crimson eyes flickered betrayed her struggle.

You smirked, taking another step closer until you were right in front of her. Her tall frame loomed over you, but you showed no fear. If anything, the proximity only seemed to embolden you. Behind you, you could sense Vi shifting slightly, her frustration simmering as she watched the scene unfold.

“And Vi,” you said suddenly, your tone light and almost playful as you glanced over your shoulder. “What about you? What’s your excuse? I know you’ve been itching for a fight, but this?” You gestured vaguely to the room, the tension, the chase. “This isn’t just about a fight, is it? No… you’re just as caught up in this as Caitlyn.”

Vi growled low in her throat, but her hesitation was telling. She didn’t deny it. She didn’t even move. You chuckled softly and turned back to Caitlyn, your gaze locking with hers as you reached up, your hand moving with deliberate slowness.

“Maybe it’s time to admit it,” you murmured, your voice low and intimate. Your fingers brushed lightly against Caitlyn’s cheek, your touch gentle yet firm. Her skin was cool beneath your fingertips, and her breath hitched again, her eyes widening slightly as you leaned in just enough to invade her space.

“You’re both here because you want to be,” you said, your words cutting through the silence like a blade. “Because no matter how much you hate me—or how much you hate yourselves for it—you can’t stay away.”

Caitlyn’s lips parted, but no words came out. Her eyes darted between yours, her fangs still bared, but her resolve was slipping. Behind you, Vi’s breathing grew heavier, her frustration bubbling just beneath the surface.

Your fingers trail over the exposed skin of Caitlyn’s neck, her collarbone. She trembles beneath your touch, her fangs biting into her lower lip as you descend.

Lower.

Lower.

Your hand ghosts over the flat plane of her stomach, dipping into the waistband of her pants. The need to feel her, to explore the secrets hidden beneath the fabric, is a living thing inside you. But you have company. A warm, solid weight at your back. Vi flanks you, her front pressing to your back as she watches you with heavy-lidded eyes. A growl rumbles deep in her throat, a wordless approval as you cup Caitlyn through her pants.

Caitlyn hisses through clenched teeth as you stroke her through the fabric of her pants. The need to rip away that barrier, to feel her soft, pliant skin is an itch beneath your nails. But Vi's presence at your back is a steadying influence, a reminder that this is a game, a dance. So you hold back, contenting yourself with teasing swirls of your palm over her clothed length.

"You want this, love?" you coo, your lips brushing the shell of her ear. "Want to feel me wrapped around you, squeezing you so tight you forget your own name?" Your hand squeezes as if to punctuate your words, and Caitlyn's hips jerk into your touch. You smile, all teeth and wicked promises. She snarls, her hands clenching at her sides as she fights the urge to grab you, to take what you're so coyly offering.

You stroke her slow, maddeningly slow, keeping your touch feather-light to drive her wild. She’s squirming now, her hips rocking into your palm seeking more friction. You obligingly tighten your grip, humming low in your throat as she pulses against you.

"Such an eager vampire," you taunt, your thumb swiping over the tip of her cock. "So desperate for my touch. Will do anything for it, won't you?" To emphasize your point, you drop to your knees before her, pressing a line of open-mouthed kisses along her length. The need to taste her, to feel her slide over your tongue is an ache in your mouth.

But you have patience.

You suck her through the fabric, letting your teeth graze the sensitive flesh beneath.

She reacts sharply, hissing as your teeth scrape over her straining erection. You do it again, purposefully, your tongue a wet swirl against the hidden shape of her. The need to see her, to truly appreciate the sight of her cock is a burning demand. Without warning, you rip open her fly, your fingers delving into the newfound space.

Your hand wraps around her immediately, the hot, hard length of her against your palm making your mouth water. She's perfect, thick and veiny and hard enough to hurt. The need to swallow her down, to feel her stretching your throat, is a pulsing throb between your legs. But you hold off, settling for a gentle pump of your wrist as you lave the weeping tip with kittenish licks.

You swirl around the swollen head, collecting every drop of pearly pre-cum as it leaks from her tip. She squirms, her hands fisting at her sides as you torment her. The need to wrap your lips around her, to finally put her out of her misery, is a desperate clawing thing. So you do, hollowing your cheeks as you slide down her cock. The taste of her explodes across your tongue, musky and masculine and so deliciously hers.

You swallow around her, fighting your gag reflex as she nudges the back of your throat. The sound she makes is pure sex, a drawn out moan that has your cunt clenching. You do it again, over and over until she's reduced to a panting, pleading mess.

Caitlyn's hands bury in your hair as you release her from your mouth with an obscene pop. She's panting, her chest heaving as you continue to stroke her steadily.

The need to hear Vi's permission, her okay to touch and taste is a sudden, desperate thing. You gazed over your shoulder, your tongue peeking out to wet your swollen lips. "Want me to suck you too, baby?" you purr, your voice husky with desire. "Want to feel that pretty cock fucking my throat while I swallow Caitlyn's cum?"

Vi's answering growl is low and primal, her fangs flashing as she licks her lips. In an instant she's behind you, her hands making quick work of her pants as she frees her massive erection. The thick length slaps against your cheek, smearing pre-cum over your skin. "Yes," she hisses. "Fucking yes.”

You return your attention to Caitlyn, your hand stroking her with renewed purpose. You scoot forward, your free hand wrapping around Vi's muscular thigh for balance as you take Caitlyn's cock back into your mouth. Your lips stretch obscenely around her girth, your jaw aching as you force yourself to relax.

But she doesn't push for more, allowing you to set the pace as you bob up and down her length. Beside you, Vi hisses, her claws scoring your hips as she watches you. Your core clenches, arousal flooding your panties at the feral possessiveness in her growl. Your neck aches from the strain of your double task, the need to have both your beasts inside you, consuming you, a physical hunger. So you double your efforts, hollowing your cheeks as you swallow around Caitlyn's cock.

You alternate between the two cocks, your saliva mixing with their pre-cum to slick the way. One moment your mouth is wrapped around Caitlyn's impressive length, the next your hand is wrapped tight around Vi's massive girth. The need to taste them both, to feel them both, is a burning insistence in your gut. She reacts differently to your ministrations, Caitlyn's hips stuttering as you take her to the root, Vi's thrusting into your grip like it's the most natural thing in the world.

You work them together, your mouth coming down to gently suck Caitlyn's heavy sack. She doesn’t disappoint, her fingers tangling in your hair as she pulls you closer, chasing her pleasure on your tongue. Beside you, Vi grunts, her rhythm faltering as you jerk her off with practiced strokes.

Caitlyn curses, a litany of praise falling from her lips as you worship her cock. Her grip on your hair tightens, bordering on painful as she fucks your face. The need to be used, to be nothing more than a convenient hole for their pleasure, is a dark thrill that races down your spine.

You pull back, releasing Caitlyn's cock with an obscene pop. Your spit shines on her cock, a testament to your oral attentions. But there are other ways to pleasure her, other ways to drive her wild with need. So you let your fingers do the talking, jacking her off with a loose, easy grip. The need to multitask, to pleasure both your lovers, is a challenge you're eager to meet. The need to have them coming undone because of you, to be the center of their universe, is a burning desire.

So you lean back, your hand continuing its steady work on Vi's dick even as you lave Caitlyn's with kittenish licks. The combined sensations are heady, intoxicating. A drop of pre-cum lands on your cheek, the warm wetness a brand against your skin.

You turn your head to the side, your mouth gaping wide in invitation. Vi stumbles forward eagerly, her cock sinking into your waiting throat with a low groan. You swallow around her, your nose pressing into the wild thatch of hair at the base of her dick. The need to breathe is a distant concern, eclipsed by the burning desire to taste Vi's pleasure on your tongue. Your tongue undulates along her length as she thrusts, your hollowed cheeks hollowing and swelling with the force of her strokes.

Beside you, Caitlyn groans, her hand joining yours as you feverishly pumps her cock. The added stimulation is too much, Vi's thrusts growing erratic as your throat squeezes around her. You bite back your own moan, the vibrations of your vocal cords urging her on.

You bob back and forth between the two, your hand working Caitlyn with feverish strokes even as you release Vi from your throat with an obscene slurp. You need to have them coming, to see them falling apart because of your touch, is a chant in your head. You kiss up Vi's dick, nuzzling into her heavy sack as your fist tightens around Caitlyn's dick.

She doesn’t hold back, her hips snapping into your grip with animalistic grunts. You need to taste them, to feel their hot release coating your hand and painting your skin, is a screaming desperation. So you lean forward, your hand twisting on Caitlyn's cock as your lips wrap around Vi's weeping tip.

Caitlyn hisses, her hips jerking erratically as her orgasm crashes over her. Hot, sticky ropes of cum paint your chest, splashing against your waiting skin in a show of mark-making that has your cunt clenching. But you have no time to bask in the warm, squelch of seed on your breasts. Vi's hands are fists in your hair, holding you in place as she fucks your throat with abandon. She snarls, a broken sound of ecstasy that mixes with Caitlyn's panting moans.

You swallow, your cheeks hollowing as you fight your own gag reflex. The taste of her, salty and thick and so unmistakably Vi, floods your senses. It's perfect. You moan around her, the vibrations of your throat catapulting her over the edge.

You stay kneeling on the floor, Vi's cock slipping from your lips with a lewd pop. Your chest is sticky with Caitlyn's release, the white ropes splattered across your heaving breasts like macabre war paint. They look down at you, panting and flushed and oh so very ready for round two. You need to be filled, to be stretched, to be utterly ruined by these magnificent creatures is a pulsing demand between your legs.

But first, you want to admire your handywork. Vi's cock is bobbing obscenely, pearly drops of cum beading at the tip. Caitlyn's is no different, the head engorged and leaking. You want to have them inside you, surrounding you, consuming you is a roar in your skull. You scoop up some of Caitlyn's seed, painting your lips like you're about to eat the most decadent treat.

Your thoughts are swallowed by Caitlyn's mouth as she yanks you up by your hair. Her kiss is hungry, desperate, her fangs scoring your lips in a way that has you opening automatically. Your blood mingles with her tongue, the coppery taste a metallic counterpoint to the musky flavors of sex and sweat that cling to your tongues. Behind you, Vi is a warm, solid presence, her canines worrying the nape of your neck in a mirror of her lover's actions.

Your head swims, the combination of pain and pleasure shorting out your circuits until the only thing that matters is the mouths on you, the hands groping, the cocks pressing urgently into your curves.

You surrender to it, to them, your body pliant and yielding as they manhandle you between them. You fall in Vi's arms, your fronts flushed together as Caitlyn crowds you from the back. The sword of Vi's tongue duels with the press of Caitlyn's fangs, the dual sensations stoking the fire in your veins to a roaring inferno.

You want to be touched everywhere, to be worshiped and cherished and fucked until you can't walk straight, is a chant in your head. Caitlyn plays her hands over your ribs, her thumbs flicking across your nipples. You moan, the breathless sound dying against Vi’s lips. She grinds into you, the hard length of her cock nestling between your thighs like it was made to be there. Vi cups your ass, her fingers digging into the pliant flesh as she grinds against you.

"Fuck," Vi groans, her hips grinding harder into you as she watches you debauch yourself. "Fuck,you're so hot like this. So desperate for us." Her words are a dark promise, the rumble of her voice making your clit throb. Behind you, Caitlyn seems to silently agree with her, her eyes glassy with lust as she takes in the sight of you.

"C’mon," you whisper, your voice raw and ragged. "I need you. Need you both. Need you to fucking breed me." The words are a revelation, a baptism in the basest, most fundamental of needs. And they're only too happy to oblige.

Caitlyn grabs your hips, spinning you around to face her. Her lips claim yours in a bruising kiss, her fangs nipping at your lower lip in a silent demand for entry. You yield, your mouth opening automatically to grant her access. Your tongues dance, the taste of you mixing together in a perverse mockery of foreplay. Behind you, Vi growls, her hands yanking your ass up and back in a move that has you gasping into Caitlyn's mouth. The change in angle puts your cunt right at the perfect height, Vi's dick nestling between your folds like it was made to be there. You shake, the heat of her almost too much to bear.

But that’s the point isn't it?

To burn in their fires, to be consumed by them until there's nothing left but cinders and ash. Caitlyn’s hands roam your body, calloused fingers teasing and taunting until you're a writhing mess in their arms. Every touch is an inferno, stoking the flames of your desire until you're ready to incinerate from the inside out. She scoops you up like you weigh nothing, your legs locking around her waist as she impales you on her thick dick with a single, smooth stroke. You wail, your head falling back on a scream of ecstasy as your cunt clenches around her. The stretch is obscene, your walls straining to accommodate her girth.

But oh, it feels so fucking good.

So right.

Vi's hands on your hips guide your movements, lifting you up and down on Caitlyn's cock like you weigh nothing. The drag of her dick against your walls is delicious agony, each thrust sending sparks of pleasure racing up your spine. Behind you, Vi grunts, her own hips rocking forward to slot her dick between your ass cheeks. The slick slide of it, hot and heavy and oh so very her, makes you clench hard around Caitlyn.

Behind you, she snarls, her hands digging into your thighs hard enough to bruise. But you don’t care. You just want to be marked, claimed, owned in every way possible, is a pulsing throb beneath your skin. The greed to be theirs is the only coherent thought left in your head.

They work you between them, Caitlyn's thrusts setting a brutal pace that Vi matches beat for beat. Your head lolls back onto Vi's shoulder, your eyes fluttering shut as you lose yourself in the rhythm. It’s hypnotic, the push and pull of their bodies, the slap of sweat-slicked flesh on flesh. Caitlyn sinks her fangs into your throat, marking you in a way that goes soul-deep. The pain is fleeting, lost in the haze of pleasure as Vi's hips buck, her cock slipping between your folds to slide against Caitlyn's. Your mouth falls open on a silent scream, your vision whiting out as the dual stimulation shatters you. You fall, tumbling headfirst into bliss, into ecstasy, into a place where there are no more worries, no more cares.

Caitlyn stands, holding your quivering body aloft as Vi sinks her cock in your pussy, stretching obscenely around her girth. You are stuffed so full, so deliciously stuffed, you feel like you might split in two. But you don’t. You don’t because this is what you were made for, to be their plaything, their receptacle for all things depraved and delicious.

You sink down, taking them both to the hilt in a move that has you screaming. The pleasure is incandescent, searing, so all-consuming that you don’t even feel it when Caitlyn sinks her fangs into your breast or Vi clamps down on your neck. All you know is the bliss, the perfection, of being taken so hard and so deep. Of finally, blessedly, being home.

You can only hold on, your nails scrabbling for purchase on sweat-slicked shoulders as they fuck into you. Caitlyn's angle has her rubbing that perfect spot inside you with every thrust, sending stars shooting across your vision. Vi grunts, her grip on your hips bruising as she pounds into you from behind. You are sandwiched between them, a willing prisoner to their combined machinations.

Caitlyn’s hands roam freely, tweaking your nipples hard enough to border on pain before soothing the sting with gentle caresses. Vi nips and sucks at your throat, no doubt marking you as theirs for all to see. But you don’t need to look to know they belong to you just as much as you belong to them.

The thought is a revelation, a sudden burst of clarity in the haze of fucked-out bliss. The cree is binding, unbreakable, and in this moment you know you would do anything for them.

Anything to keep them, to preserve this moment of perfect connection. It’s a thing that scares you. It's something that, in your right mind, youwould run screaming from. But this isnt that. This isn't right or wrong, good or bad. It’s just is, a simple, pure truth that settles over you like a warm blanket. You surrender to it, to them, your body going slack in their hold even as your walls ripple around their cocks.

You're nothing more than a willing vessel now, a receptacle for all their pleasure. And that, you think dazedly as you're fucked into mindless oblivion, is exactly how it should be.

Caitlyn’s hands move to your hips, holding you in place as they fuck you with increasing speed. The need to come, to let go completely, is a desperate litany on your lips. Vi's rhythm steadied, her thrusts growing harsher as she chases her own release. They work together seamlessly, as if they've done this a thousand times before. Maybe they have, with countless others who weren't you, who weren't their mate.

The sudden surge of jealousy, of possessiveness, is enough to make you see stars. You clench around them, your cunt bearing down on their cocks as you teeter on the edge. You're so fucking close, every nerve in your body drawn tight as a bowstring. Caitlyn must feel it too, because she bites down, hard enough to draw blood.

And that's it.

That's all it takes to catapult you over the edge. Your orgasm slams into you, a tidal wave of ecstasy that rips through you with the force of a hurricane. You come with a scream, your cunt clenching and spasming around Vi's and Caitlyn's cocks. A flood of liquid heat gushes from your core, soaking their dick and dripping down your thighs. It's obscene, you know, but you can't bring yourself to care. Not when the pleasure is so sharp, so intense, it feels like it's splitting you apart from the inside out.

Behind you, Vi snarls, her hips slamming into yours with a force that would be bruising if you weren't so far gone. She doesn’t pull out, working you through your orgasm until you're writhing, oversensitized.

"Keep going, please keep going," you babbles, your words slurring together as they pound into you. Your overstimulated cunt spasms around them, aftershocks from your previous orgasm still rattling your frame.

But they don’t stop, if anything their thrusts grow harder, more insistent. It’s almost too much, pleasure bleeding into pain as your body is pushed to its limits. You scrap at their shoulders, your nails leaving red welts in their flesh. Caitlyn hisses, the sting only seeming to spur her on. Behind you, Vi grunts, her grip on your hips bruising as she fucks into you like a woman possessed. You're being used, claimed, fucked into oblivion, and it's perfect. It's everything you could ever want. You cum again, a high, keening wail tearing from your throat as your vision whites out.

But there's no respite to be had, not when Caitlyn and Vi are so close to their own finish. They work you mercilessly, pounding into your abused cunt with single-minded focus. You're nothing more than a toy to them, a warm hole to spill their seed in, and you've never felt so deliciously used in your life. Caitlyn groans, her thrusts growing erratic as she chases her release.

Behind you, Vi snarls, her canines finding your mating bite and biting down hard. Pain and pleasure short-circuit in your skull, the resulting burst of sensation sending you careening toward a third orgasm. You clench around them, your walls rippling along their lengths as you teeter on the brink of oblivion. Then Caitlyn’s coming, her cum flooding your channel in a scalding rush that pushes you over the edge.

You fall, your mind going blank as your body is wracked with pleasure. Your cunt spasms around Caitlyn's cock, milking her for every last drop as you squirt on their cocks for the third time. Behind you, Vi follows, her hips jerking erratically as she floods your already full channel with even more cum.

You want it, crave it, so much so that you can taste it on your tongue. The need used by them, bound to them in every way possible, is a frantic beat beneath your skin. They crush you between them, their mouths finding yours in a sloppy, three-way kiss that leaves you panting. Youcould die like this, youthink dazedly, sandwiched between these two magnificent beasts.

Vi's arms hold you aloft, your legs too weak to support your own weight after your mind-blowing orgasms. She slowly walks you towards the bed, Caitlyn's cock slipping from your pussy with a lewd squelch. Your legs hit the mattress, the sudden change in angle making you pitch forward. But Vi's hands are there to catch you, guiding you down onto all fours.

You collapse onto your elbows, your face pressed into the sheets as you tremble with exhaustion. But that exhaustion does nothing to dampen your desire, the need to feel them inside you once more an all-consuming inferno. Caitlyn scoops your hair away from your neck, her fingers tracing the ridges of your spine. Behind you, Vi hums, her palm flattening against the small of your back.

You squirmed between them, your hips wiggling back against Vi's in a clear invitation. You're so fucking sensitive, every brush of air against your swollen, well-used lips sending sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine. But that pain-slash-pleasure only serves to heighten your arousal, your cunt clenching madly around nothing as you crave to be filled again, to be stretched and stuffed and utterly used until your pussy is molded to their cocks. You beg them to take you again, your babbling pleas falling on deaf ears. Caitlyn chuckles darkly above you, her hands sliding down your sides to grip your hips.

"So greedy for us, aren't you?" she purrs, her breath hot against your ear. Behind you, Vi growls in agreement, her fingers pricking at your skin as she squeezes the globes of your ass.

You mewl, arching into their touches like a cat in heat. Your pussy is throbbing, the emptiness a physical ache that demands to be filled. You know you shouldn't want it, shouldn't crave their cocks like you do. But you can't help it, not when they make you feel so good, so cherished. Caitlyn slides a finger between your swollen folds, the lightest of touches enough to make you gasp. You're fucking dripping, your arousal coating her digit and dripping onto the sheets below. Vi groans behind you, her hand slipping from your hip to your core, swiping through the slick mess.

"Fuck, you're so wet," she growls, her voice rough with lust. She punctuates her words with a sharp spank to your ass, the sting only serving to heighten your desire.

Vi's hands grip your hips hard enough to bruise, holding you in place as she thrusts into you. Her thrusts are messy and desperate, the force of them jostling the bed beneath you. Over your back, Caitlyn makes her own slick sounds, her fist working her dick to the tempo Vi is setting. Your head spins at the sheer depravity of it, of being used so carelessly, so thoroughly, like a common whore. And yet it's the hottest thing you've ever seen, the knowledge that your body is enough to drive them to such heights. You sob into the sheets, your face pressed into the mattress as Vi takes you harder and faster. She's fucking you like she's trying to split you in two, her grip on your hips hard enough to leave lasting bruises. Behind you, Caitlyn grunts, her hand moving faster as she watches Vi rut into your aching cunt.

You can only take it, your body rocking with every savage thrust. Your cunt is on fire, the pleasure bordering on pain as Vi ruts into you. But you love it, love the feeling of being used so roughly, so thoroughly. Caitlyn groans above you, her fist flying over her cock as she chases her pleasure. You cry, a desperate, keening sound that's muffled by the sheets. Your orgasm is barreling towards you, the coil in your core winding tighter and tighter. Just when you don't think you can take anymore, Caitlyn slaps your clit hard. The pain-pleasure rocket sends you screaming over the edge, your cunt clamping down on Vi's cock hard enough to make her snarl. Behind you, Vi follows, her hips jerking erratically as she floods your already cum-soaked channel with even more of her release.

Vi pulls out, her cum leaking from your well-used hole and dribbling down your thighs. You barely have a chance to miss the fullness before Caitlyn flips you over, hauling your limp body up into her arms. She sits back on her heels, settling your straddling legs on either side of her hips. Her cock slides against your folds, smearing their combined releases between you. Behind you, Vi moves to kneel on the bed, her chest pressed to your back. Her hands slide up your sides, cupping the swell of your breasts and teasing your nipples. You mewl, your hips rolling in Caitlyn's grip, chasing more of that delicious friction. But she holds you still, her grip bruising as she lines herself up with your entrance. You barely have time to brace yourself before she slides into you, impaling you on her thick cock in one brutal thrust.

Vi and Caitlyn work you between them, one thrusting into you as the other nudges her cock to your lips. Your pussy is stretched and filled to the brim, every ridge and vein of Caitlyn's cock kissing along your inner walls in a way that has you sobbing for more. It's a primal move that speaks to the most basic parts of you that crave to be owned and claimed most fundamentally. You claw at the bed, your nails biting into the sheets as you hang on for dear life. Behind you, she groans, the sound sending vibrations through his chest and straight to your core.

You gag on Vi's thick dick, spit bubbling from the corners of your mouth as she fucks into your throat. Your eyes roll back, your hands scrabbling at the sheets for purchase as they use you so thoroughly. You're just a set of fuck holes for their pleasure, a warm sleeve for them to dump their seed in. And it's perfect, so perfect, to be so utterly and completely theirs. Behind you, Caitlyn pulls nearly all the way out before slamming back in, the tip of her cock kissing your cervix with every thrust. The force of it rocks you forward, Vi's dick lodging itself even deeper down your throat. You gag, the muscles in your neck convulsing around her as your eyes water. They pound into you mercilessly, their rhythm ruthless as they chase their release.

The two of you exchange a long, heated look. Then, as if by silent agreement, they double their efforts. Vi's hands fist in your hair, holding you in place as she fucks into your mouth. Caitlyn's grips on your hips tighten, her nails digging into your flesh as she pounds into you from behind. The need to come, to let go completely, is a frantic rhythm in your skull. Just when you don't think you can take anymore, Vi roars above you, her dick pulsing as she reaches her peak. Thick ropes of cum paint your face, your hair, your open mouth as you struggle to swallow it all. But it's Caitlyn who steals the show, her thrusts growing erratic as she nears her own climax. You barely have time to gasp before she slams into you one final time, her dick erupting inside you.

You clench around her, your cunt milking her for every last drop of her seed as your own orgasm crashes over you. It's so intense, so all-consuming, that your vision blanks out at the edges. You fall forward, catching yourself on your elbows as you ride out the waves of pleasure coursing through you. Behind you, Caitlyn collapses against your back, her forehead pressed to your shoulder as she pants heavily. Above you, Vi grunts, slumping down to drape herself across the bed. You're sandwiched between them, a willing victim to their lusts and desires.

And in this moment, as you bask in the afterglow, you know there's nowhere else you'd rather be.

[moonlight-presence]

Will ye go, lassie, go?

Remmick X Female Reader

Summary: After saving you from a life of pain and loneliness, Remmick and you become connected for eternity. Amid the misty backdrop of a river at night, you sing "Will Ye Go, Lassie, Go?", a song that stirs deep, forgotten memories within Remmick. Drawn to your voice and the bond you two now share, you succumb to your carnal pleasures.

2,251 words

Notes:

🩸 stór = my love/my darling 🩸 stóreen = my little darling 🩸 foc = fuck 🩸 anamchara = soulmate 🩸 Cén guth álainn = what a beautiful voice

!SMUT CONTENT!

The world was only half lived before he came into your life. Every plant was pretty to look at, not overwhelming to your senses, humans were good company, not drumming heartbeats begging you to have a taste, and the night was dark and terrifying, not welcoming like a mother's embrace. 

 The more you tried to remember how your life was before Remmick turned you, the more you forgot. Why bother? You had been miserable. Time was torture and living your punishment. Now? Well, now you could taste the metallic blood on your tongue, dance with goblins and devils, and sing freely.

Oh, the summertime has come

And the trees are sweetly bloomin'

The wild mountain thyme

Grows around the bloomin' heather

Will ye go, lassie, go?

You let the last note linger on your tongue longer than usual. The enjoyment of freedom was like poison in your veins, and you wanted nothing more but to drown yourself in it. 

 You were sitting by a river, the cold breeze of night holding you and the memories of those turned roaming inside your head. Everything was connected, and you were everything. 

 You were an orphan boy, forced to steal. A woman made slave. A man whose father was taken from him by the righteous hands of sinners. A Chinese girl, an ancestor of the chief of a tribe long gone, a bureaucrat, a soldier. You were all, and they were all you. 

 It felt good not to be alone. Comforting. 

 And it was in that comfort and singing of old melodies from a land across the ocean, one filled with magic creatures, that Remmick found you, once more, as he had years ago. 

 “You really fancied that old tune, uh?” he said from behind you. 

 You turned to meet his red eyes, and you couldn't help but show him your fangs. It was becoming a habit. 

 “It's gorgeous. I know how much it means to you,” you replied. 

 “Then be sure to sing it as loud as you can.” Remmick walked towards you. Mist wrapped around his body with each step, making him seem like a myth from the old legends. His red eyes, glowing in the pitch black, mirrored yours.

 He sat next to you, and you smelled the blood on his mouth immediately. It was fresh; he had fed recently. 

 “Who was it?” you whispered, moving your knees to touch his. 

 Remmick smiled, not a good old smile but one of those that made your bones all jiggly, before saying, “You askin’ if I turned them?”

 You nodded with a guilty smile and brought your fingers to his lips. They were clean, but you could still feel the moisture of the blood beneath the skin. 

 “I wanted to free him, baby, I really did, but his blood was so sweet…” Your breath quickened as you saw, inside your head, what he had seen. “Well, I couldn't resist.” 

 “Let me taste it,” you begged as you wetted your thumb with his saliva.

 Remmick's lips stretched into a grin, and you felt his teeth, sharp and still throbbing from his kill. You couldn’t resist the urge as you brought your thumb to your lips and sucked on it. 

 You closed your eyes briefly, trying to intensify the flavor, but it was far too faint to ease your desire. You needed more.

 “Oh, darlin’, that’s quite alright… Come here,” Remmick said, voice hypnotizing and layered with honey. 

 Your lips met then, and the sweet taste of blood met your tongue like an old friend. A groan escaped your lips, and you felt his own desire resonating with yours. You deepened the kiss, swirling your tongues together in a fiery dance. 

 Remmick hummed, clearly pleased, and grabbed the back of your head, tangling his fingers with your hair. His nails were grown now, scratching your scalp and making the sweet dance of your desires pick up its pace. 

 It wasn’t the first time you had taken him for a lover, and certainly wouldn’t be the last. The others weren’t quite the same as you… They respected Remmick, worshipped him even for immortalizing them, but your connection to him was far deeper. When your bodies blended and your blood pumped at the same pace, that was when you truly were complete. 

 “Stór, I can feel your fire,” Remmick whispered, breaking the kiss. You whined at the loss and he smirked, fangs poking from his top lip. 

 “I want you so bad,” you said, grabbing his shoulders and hoisting yourself to his lap. He looked up at you, and you held the back of his neck. “Make love to me.”

 Remmick hummed, feeling your desire inside him as wildfire. “Keep singin’, stór. I wanna hear your beautiful voice, baby.”

 You nodded as his hands went underneath your skirt. You shuddered as his fingers traced your skin and went up your legs. The words found you then.

Oh, the summertime has come

And the trees are sweetly bloomin'

The wild mountain thyme

Grows around the bloomin' heather

Will ye go, lassie, go?

And we'll all go together

To pull wild mountain thyme

All around the bloomin' heather

Will ye go, lassie, go?

“Cén guth álainn,” Remmick whispered. 

 You continued singing softly as his fingers finally found your arousal, and your breath quickened. He had always had such a way with his hands during such moments. 

 “Oh…” you moaned between verses as he spread your folds and traced them up and down, coating his fingers with your moisture. 

 “Ssshhh…” he said, although a smirk stayed on his lips. He was hard beneath his pants, you could feel that. 

If my true love, she won't come

Then I'll surely find another

To pull wild mountain thyme

All around the bloomin' heather

Will ye go, lassie, go?

And we'll all go together

To pull wild mountain thyme

All around the bloomin' heather

Will ye go, lassie, go?

He began stroking your clit, making you bite your bottom lip and almost draw blood. Remmick’s pupils dilated, and the glow of his eyes intensified as he reached for your lips and briefly kissed them. 

 “Let me fuck you now, baby,” you begged, feeling his thumb on your clit. “I wanna feel you inside me.”

 “Baby, how could I ever deny you?” he asked with a raspy voice that made your skin tingle. “Take my cock out, stór.”

 You immediately obeyed, reaching for his belt and undoing it before you put your hand underneath his pants and found his hard shaft. Remmick hissed, fangs growing as you took him out, staring at his flushed head. It was glistening, pearly drops of cum running down his shaft, and you collected the moisture and stroked him up and down softly. 

 “When I first laid eyes on you, darlin’, I knew you were different,” Remmick confessed. His voice was a bit strained as you stroked him slowly. “I could feel your pain, baby. Hell, I knew that pain.”

 “You saved me from it, baby,” you cut him off with an urgency. You had to reassure him. 

 “I know, stór, I know… You needed savin’,” he whispered. 

 You looked into his eyes and saw the reflection of who you had been there. You hated that person, but still, you looked. He wanted you to remember. 

 “Are you happy now, stóreen?” He removed his hands from your arousal and held your thighs up. “Do you see how grand life can be?”

 You lined the head of his cock with your entrance but not before rubbing him up and down your folds and making his breath quicken. Your skirt was covering your love making, but you wouldn’t care if anybody saw you. You wanted them to. 

 “I’m so happy, darlin’,” you confessed. You began sinking on his cock, feeling the beautiful pain of the stretch. “Ah…”

 “There we go… Beautiful,” he praised you as his cock entered you. 

 You bit your bottom lip and held onto his shoulders until every inch of his shaft was inside you and you were sitting on his thighs again. Remmick let you adjust to him for a few seconds before pushing your skirt aside and holding your ass. 

 “Fuck yourself on it, stór. Make love to me,” he growled as the drool fell down his chin. It reminded you of the first time you had met. 

 You began moving your hips, feeling his cock hit all the right places inside you. Moans spilled from your lips, and you grabbed the back of his head again, pulling his hair. Remmick liked that by the way he squeezed your ass and brought his lips to your neck. 

 You felt his fangs trace your skin, and your lips stretched into a satisfied smile. 

 “Your cunt is so tight,” he groaned against your neck those sweet words. 

 “It’s always like that for you, baby,” you said, breathless, as you picked up the pace. 

 Remmick hummed and started kissing your neck. Then, you felt a slight sting of pain as his two fangs pierced your skin and drew a bit of blood. Vampire’s blood wasn’t any good, but he seemed to enjoy it like a virgin's blood. 

 “Fuckin’ hell,” you moaned with a laugh, feeling him lick your blood. 

 Remmick raised his head, lips stained with redness, and crashed your mouths together. You moaned into his mouth, and he swallowed your sounds of pleasure. 

 When the fire of your passion rose to wildfire, burning the mist around you, you felt your nails grow. You wanted to fuck him harder, to take him harder, to feel him harder, so you picked up your pace and squeezed around his cock. Remmick moaned your name in his tongue, and you understood him in yours. That was the beautiful gift of immortality: the knowledge of the past, present, and future. 

 “You are takin’ me so well,” Remmick whispered against your mouth. You felt his nails pierce your flesh. “You’re a sinner, baby. Mine.”

 “Yours.” You whined his name and nearly cried out when his cock hit a special spot inside you. The sudden peak in stimulation made your fangs pierce your bottom lip, cutting yourself. By instinct, your tongue went to clean the blood, but Remmick spoke first. 

 "No. Let me taste it," Remmick said, looking at the blood dripping down your bottom lip. You nodded and he licked the blood before wrapping his lips on your bottom lip and sucking on the flesh. The sensation was so familiar to you.

“Remmick.”

 “Foc,” he cursed under his breath, licking his own lips clean. You met his red eyes and pulled his hair back roughly. Remmick groaned with a short laugh and then stared at your mouth. "Spit."

 You didn't have to ask him where, having done this so many times before. 

You smirked and let a string of saliva mixed with blood fall between his parted lips. Then, when he swallowed it as if it were a nectar from the sweetest fruit, you kissed him again. In the middle of rough kisses, his fingers found your clit again and he began slowly stroking it. That made everything ten times more intense and you squeezed around his cock.

 “I’m close. Oh, anamchara, I’m so close,” you warned him as the familiar pull of your orgasm appeared on your lower belly. 

 “Come on, beautiful. Come on, stór. I wanna feel you,” Remmick encouraged you. You pulled his hair again, and he groaned. 

 Your body began dripping with sweat, and you closed your eyes, throwing your head back and holding onto his head for support. After a few more seconds, your orgasm washed over you. 

 It began like a slow wave, until it built and drowned you in pleasure. Your legs started shaking, your clit throbbing and you squeezed around his cock making him hiss. That must have sent him over the edge because you felt his cum spill inside you. 

 “Foc… Shit…” he cursed, breathless. 

 You collapsed against his body then, too exhausted to think or move, as your orgasm began dying down. He still throbbed inside you, and you licked your lips and kissed the side of his sweaty neck. He smelled so sweet. 

 “You drive me mad, baby,” he said between breaths. You felt him remove his fingers from your clit. “Give me a kiss.”

 You kissed him immediately, pulling his head back so you could be slightly over his face. Remmick smirked against your lips and deepened the kiss before you two had to pull away to catch your breath. 

 “Don’t leave me, baby,” you whispered against his lips. “I was here all alone for hours. I couldn’t feel you properly. I was so frightened that you were hurt.”

 “I’m sorry, baby… Sing for me again. That’s gonna make it all alright. I promise,” he said. 

 You kissed him again, briefly, before pulling yourself from his softening cock. Remmick put himself back in his pants, and you pulled your skirt down, covering yourself. 

 You remained on his lap, though, and continued humming that sweet old song that his father used to sing to him before bed. It made you at peace.

 

And we'll all go together

He closed his eyes and put his head on your shoulder. You brushed his hair back and kissed his forehead before running your fingers through his hair and letting the night be filled with the song.

And we'll all go together

To pull wild mountain thyme

All around the bloomin' heather

Will ye go, lassie, go?

[coralquill]

I read your witch mc headcannon and lemme say, I love it. I have anotheR supernatural request if you don't mind. I wanted to request a vampire MC who drinks blood of others except the boy's bc she doesn't want to hurt them and what they're reaction would be to that and maybe how they'd ask her to drink theirs. KEEP UP THE AMAZING WORK 👏

ahoy, thank you for requesting! thank you for the kind words and im glad you enjoyed the witch reader hcs! this was also a fun piece to write i love writing requests out of what im used to. hope you enjoy!

pairings: xavier x reader || zayne x reader || rafayel x reader || sylus x reader || caleb x reader

contents: vampire reader, blood mention, biting, comedy, suggestive || wc.1221

— XAVIER

It was well known that Xavier cooks, (ahem, cough,) and he used garlic in most of his dishes to enhance the flavors. So after hours of slaving at the stove, he'd invite you to have a late lunch with him, and you accepted. Though on the table, you'd avoid eating anything garlic, having just the salad, the appetizers, and the fresh juices.

From his observations later on, he discovered you were a vampire—no garlic, avoiding silver and the sun, and a shifted sleep schedule.

Xavier would make adjustments to accommodate you, from banning garlic from his apartment to throwing away all silverware, making you feel more welcome in his world. Though, whenever the two of you shared a meal together, he always wondered, do vampires not need to drink blood to keep them alive and going? Human meals surely didn't fill up your daily energy quota, and he never saw you draw any blood from any source.

On finding out you fed on other people, he'd straddle you, keeping you in place and demanding you to feed on him, and only him.

And you could only accept, as the angry pout he had was working against you and making it hard to refuse.

— ZAYNE

Zayne would notice that something was up with you with how you were acting around certain shiny metal and certain aromatic dishes whenever he went out with you. His theories about you being a vampire were soon confirmed when you came to him late at night with a nasty burn on your hand.

You affirmed that you were indeed a vampire and were in dire need of immediate medical attention, and Zayne would tend to your burn at the best of his medical knowledge—at least, as much as it could apply to vampires.

Zayne wouldn't prefer you drinking blood from strangers as it could hold diseases and illnesses. He'd offer his blood to you, and he'd make sure he always stayed clean of anything, keeping his blood healthy.

Zayne would suggest packing you a fresh pint of his blood whenever you needed to part ways for a while. "Here take this with you." He slipped the bag into your backpack. He added ice cubes from his Evol to keep it cool and fresh for longer. "Drink it when you need to."

The smell of his blood wafted in the air, and it smelled so good. Your pupils dilated, grinning cheekily, "You think I could resist drinking your blood in the first hours of my trip?"

Zayne smiled and leaned in for a kiss, but you leaned in further to kiss the mark you had left on his neck.

— RAFAYEL

The first thing Rafayel would notice was that you didn't have reflections whenever you passed the mirrors of the studio—was it a Wanderer's curse? An Evol's effect perhaps?

He then noticed that whenever he got papercuts or small cuts from using sharp tools, your head would whip around, eyes zeroing in on the cut every, single time—okay, you were definitely a blood-sucking creature.

"So you're a vampire." He'd point out casually, hands busy with the tools he crafted with.

You nodded. "I am."

"You never asked me to drink my blood. Kind of rude." He pouted. "How did you survive?"

"I went after random others. Didn't want to hurt you."

Rafayel scoffed, clearly offended that you drank blood from strangers rather than him.

Rafayel would make it his mission to seduce you by wearing wide, open collar shirts and sitting under open windows, allowing the sun to hit his skin in the most enticing angles—and it was working.

He was a temptation like no other.

You pounced and sank your canines into his neck.

Rafayel grinned at first, happy to be the victor in this little game he played, but moments after, his expression faltered at the delicious sting he felt.

"Oh."

You needed to be careful with your intakes as Lemurian blood was addicting, and you wouldn't want your little fishy to dry up!

— SYLUS

Sylus hoards shiny things. Gems, gold, and silver. Most of his kitchenware and utensils were made of silver: the water goblets he drank from, the plates he ate from, and the forks he took bites with. But when you told him you couldn't eat from them because you were a vampire and they'd burn you, he'd taken them out and locked them in a vault away from you to ensure you never crossed paths with what hurts you.

Sylus would keep you company at night, both of you having a common enemy—The Sun. Sylus and you would go on late night escapades and spread mischief in your wakes; brooding atop the tallest skyscrapers at the end of a well-spent night was a must.

Upon learning that you satiate your quench for blood by drinking from others, he wouldn't allow it again.

"But I don't want to hurt you," you said, worry clouding your eyes.

Sylus's eyes softened. "You don't have to worry about that." He reassured you he could self-heal and that whatever skin rips and marks you'd leave on him, he'd patch them up with his Evol.

Sylus would pull you into his lap and offer his neck, silently inviting you to drink as much as you needed.

After you were done drinking, all the blood that dripped would dissipate with swirls of his energy Evol, but the two canine punctures stayed. You had left your mark on him, and he was proudly wearing it.

— CALEB

[Notes: Things Pip-squeak avoids:]

No silver—check.

Caleb would get rid of all silver tools in his house when he saw you avoid touching them.

No garlic—check.

Once Caleb noticed a recurring pattern of you not eating garlic-flavored meals, he substituted all the garlic spices and stopped cooking recipes centered around garlic altogether.

No sunlight—check.

Caleb would cover the windows of his house with films to block the sun but were translucent enough to allow the light to brighten the rooms. He'd hang umbrellas next to all the doors for you to use whenever you left the house.

With days passing, Caleb would notice more unusual things you avoided or did. He noted your shift in sleep schedule. You usually slept through daylight and woke up in the late hours of the night. So naturally, Caleb opened up his notes app to add this tidbit about you.

Shifted sleep schedule—check.

Caleb read through the points he had written over time, and, oh—those weren't just points about quirks specific to you, but rather Caleb's accidental discovery that you were a vampire.

He'd obliquely market his blood to you, indirectly telling you to feed on him. He cooked his own meals, ate healthy, trained regularly, and was active most of the days of the week, and that was enough to keep his body pumping healthy blood.

But if that wasn't enough to get you to drink from his blood, he'd tell you flat out that he wanted you to need him and use him for your bloody needs. The mark you'd leave on him would be on the left side of his neck where his good arm was to ensure there'd be the most blood flow for you, (and he wanted to feel your bite every time.)

likes and reblogs will always be appreciated ♡ let me know what you think!

— until next tide, thanks for docking by ｡𖦹°‧𓇼

© coralquill 2025 – do not copy, steal, or translate my work.

[heliosunny]

Yandere Phainon with vampire reader. The story starts with him taking reader in to stay at his house cause they didn't have anywhere else to go. Due to reader not wanting to hurt innocent people, they would rather suck blood from dead animals or blood from hospital. But one day, due to not being able to find any stocks to suck on, they started to isolate themselves in their room, not wanting to go out of control, especially hurting Phainon. But seeing their state, Phainon decided to offer himself so that he wouldn't have to see them suffer any longer (and cause he wants them to suck his blood)

At first, reader argued with him, backing up cause they didn't want to suck his blood (for they wouldn't be able to resist cause of hunger) but Phainon caged them in his arms, pushing their head towards his neck and coaxed them gently to just feed on him.

Looking forward to how u will write this one!

Yandere!Phainon x Vampire!Reader

The night you first met Phainon, the sky wept. Rain poured in relentless sheets, soaking through your cloak as you stood before the grand wooden door of his isolated home. The cold bit into your skin, not that it truly affected you, but the exhaustion did. You had been wandering for too long, seeking refuge, hiding from hunters who would have slaughtered you on sight.

So when the door finally creaked open, revealing a tall man with silver-white hair and piercing blue eyes, your breath caught. His gaze was wary, assessing, lingering too long on the damp edges of your cloak, the pallor of your skin.

"You shouldn’t be out here." His voice was deep, smooth, yet edged with caution.

"I have nowhere else to go" you said honestly, suppressing the natural tremor in your tone. "Please."

For a moment, he only stared. Then, with a sharp exhale, he stepped aside. "Come in."

You entered, shaking off the rain, your sharp eyes flicking around the space. The scent of silver, the faint traces of dried blood, the glint of well-maintained weapons along the walls, you had walked straight into the home of a predator. He's a hunter. His name is Phainon as he introduced himself.

You should have left. Instead, you stayed. You hid what you were, blending into his world while carefully avoiding suspicion. You learned his habits, watched the way he moved, how his fingers always lingered near a blade. You cooked for him, helped him track beasts of the night, shared in the silence of lonely evenings.

Then one day, you made a mistake.

A hunt went wrong. A slip of the tongue. A wound that healed too quickly. And just like that, the truth spilled from your lips.

You were a vampire.

You had expected anger. Hatred. For him to raise a weapon against you.

But Phainon only stared. Then he sighed.

"You should have told me sooner" he muttered, rubbing his temple.

"...You’re not going to kill me?"

"Do you want me to?" His gaze was sharp. "Because I don’t."

You didn’t understand it then. His patience. His forgiveness.

And when you offered to help him with his work, tracking creatures, setting traps, cleaning up after his battles, he only smirked and let you.

For months, it worked. You found stored blood from hospitals, drained already-dead animals, survived without ever tasting the warmth of a living vein.

But eventually, the supply ran out. And then the hunger came.

You locked yourself in your room, curling into yourself as the pain clawed at your insides.

The scent of Phainon was everywhere, his heartbeat, his warmth, the life that pulsed beneath his skin. It was maddening.

You couldn’t risk it. You wouldn’t risk it. So you hid.

But Phainon wasn’t the type to let things fester. The moment he noticed your absence, he sought you out.

When the door creaked open, you flinched at the flood of light, your body stiff as Phainon stepped inside, his sharp gaze locking onto you. His expression was unreadable as he took in your trembling form, the way your fingers dug into your arms, the dark circles beneath your eyes.

"You're starving" he murmured.

You looked away. "It’ll pass."

"It won’t."

Then he stepped closer.

"I’ll fix it."

Your head snapped up, panic flaring in your chest. "No."

Phainon ignored you. He was already rolling up his sleeve, exposing the pale skin beneath. A quick, precise motion, and a thin line of red welled up.

You inhaled sharply, instincts screaming at you.

No, no, no.

"Drink!" he ordered, offering his wrist.

You recoiled, shaking your head violently. "I can’t."

His expression darkened, but his voice remained soft. "Yes, you can."

"If I do, I won’t stop," you gasped.

"I don’t care."

"Phainon—"

In a blur, he moved. His arms caged you in, one wrapped around your waist, the other cradling the back of your head. His scent overwhelmed you, warm, intoxicating, too alive. Your body tensed as he tilted his head, exposing the vulnerable curve of his neck.

"Drink" he whispered, "Take what you need. I want you to."

You shook. "You don’t know what you’re saying."

"You think I don’t?" His fingers slid into your hair, gently coaxing you closer. "I know exactly what I’m offering. And I won’t let you suffer when I can fix it."

Your breath was shallow. You couldn’t win this. Your fangs ached, your body screamed, and Phainon was right there.

He tightened his hold. "Do it."

With a strangled gasp, you sank your fangs into his flesh.

A sharp breath left him, followed by a low, satisfied hum. His blood flooded your senses, hot, rich, unlike anything you had ever tasted. It was overwhelming, intoxicating, burning through your veins like liquid fire. You gripped his coat, trembling as you drank deeply, surrendering to the hunger you had fought for so long.

Phainon exhaled, fingers tracing slow, soothing patterns down your back. "Good" he murmured, voice thick. "That's it."

You should have stopped. But he felt too good, his warmth, his steady heartbeat against your lips. He didn’t push you away. He let you take from him.

And he smiled. Because this was what he wanted all along.

The fever came that night. Phainon lay sprawled on the couch, skin burning, breath uneven. His body struggled to adjust, to accommodate the loss of blood. You hovered nearby, guilt twisting deep in your gut.

"You knew this would happen" you murmured, voice tight.

Phainon smirked, half-lidded eyes gleaming even through the fever haze. "Worth it."

"Phainon..."

"You’re mine" he said, voice dark and amused. "And now… you can’t deny it."

He was right in a way. You had tasted him. And you would never be able to resist him again.

The fever burned through him relentlessly. His silver-white hair clinging to his damp forehead. Despite his words, despite how much he wanted you to take his blood, you had known the consequences. The first offering always left the giver weakened, fevered, caught between the edges of life and death as their body adjusted to the unnatural bond. And yet, even in his delirium, Phainon smirked.

"You’re staring" he rasped, voice rough but undeniably amused.

You scoffed, crossing your arms. "You’re half-dead, and you’re still insufferable."

"Not dead enough for you?" His eyes flickered with something dark, teasing. "You can always take more."

You stiffened. "You want to die?"

His chuckle was weak but genuine. "Not at all." A slow inhale. Then, softer, "I just want you to need me."

Your fingers curled into your palms.

"You risked yourself" you muttered. "For what?"

Phainon let out a slow exhale, his fevered gaze never leaving yours. "Because I couldn't stand watching you suffer." His voice was uncharacteristically raw, honest. "And because I wanted you to drink from me."

You shook your head sharply, standing up. "You need rest."

Phainon only watched you, silent.

Then, as you turned away, his voice came—softer, but laced with an undeniable edge.

"You’ll need to drink again."

You froze.

"...No."

"You will." His smirk widened slightly despite his exhaustion. "You’ve already had a taste. Do you really think you can go back to starving yourself?"

Your throat tightened.

For the next few days, Phainon recovered, though his smirks never faded. If anything, he seemed pleased by the fever, by the proof that his blood was now inside you.

You tried to act normal. You helped with his work, stayed by his side, convinced yourself that you could forget.

But then, the hunger returned.

It came quietly at first. A dull ache, a fleeting thought, a phantom memory of warmth.

Then it grew.

You began noticing things you hadn’t before. The scent of his skin when he stood too close. The steady pulse in his throat when he spoke. The way your fangs ached when he brushed his fingers against your wrist.

It was unbearable.

You started avoiding him.

But Phainon wasn’t stupid.

One evening, he cornered you.

The fire crackled low in the hearth, casting long shadows across the room. You stood near the window, your hands gripping the sill, breathing slow, steady.

Trying to suppress it.

Trying to fight it.

But you felt him approach before he even spoke.

"You’re doing it again" Phainon murmured, voice smooth as silk.

You didn’t turn. "Doing what?"

"Hiding. Hiding the fact that you’re hungry." he continued, tone almost gentle. "I can feel it."

He was right.

"I won’t drink from you again" you forced out. "I won’t put you through that."

"Who said it’s up to you?"

Before you could move, arms wrapped around you from behind. Phainon caged you against the window, his body pressing into yours, the heat of him seeping into your cold skin.

"Phainon—"

"You will drink from me" he murmured, his breath warm against your ear. "Because you need it"

You shook your head, trying to push him away, but he didn’t budge.

"I won’t let you starve yourself" he continued.

Your fangs throbbed, instincts screaming at you to obey.

You clenched your fists. "Let me go."

His grip tightened. Then—he tilted his head, exposing his neck.

"Take it" he whispered, coaxing. Tempting.

Your breathing grew uneven. The scent of his blood was intoxicating.

You trembled. "I can’t—"

"You can" he corrected, pressing your head closer. His fingers slid into your hair, stroking, soothing, trapping. "And you will."

You clenched your jaw, resisting with every ounce of willpower you had left. But Phainon knew already. He felt you breaking.

"You belong to me now" he murmured, pressing his lips near your ear. "And my blood belongs to you."

And then—

Your fangs sank into his skin. A sharp breath left him.

You clung to him as the warmth flooded your senses. His arms never loosened. Phainon wanted you, and now, you could never escape him.

-----

The first time, Phainon had anticipated pain.

And he had felt it—sharp, piercing, the sudden shock of fangs sinking into his flesh. His body had instinctively tensed, heat rushing through his veins in a violent surge. But then came the pull.

A slow, intoxicating drain that left him lightheaded, yet unbearably aware. He had never felt anything like it, the way his blood coursed through his veins only to be drawn out, siphoned into you.

And it wasn’t just the sensation of loss.

It was the way your body trembled against his.

The way your fingers curled into his coat, desperate, clinging.

The way your breath came uneven against his throat, heated and hungry.

It was powerful.

And as much as he had intended to offer himself to you, he hadn’t expected it to consume him, too.

At first, he convinced himself it was just the aftershock. The fever. The inevitable consequence of giving too much.

But the next time—The next time, he craved it.

It happened again days later. Earlier than he expected.

You had resisted at first, still stubborn, still trying to push him away. But he had been patient.

And when you finally gave in

When your fangs pierced him once more

A sharp gasp left his lips.

The pain barely registered this time. It melted away almost instantly, drowned out by the rush.

The heat.

The pull.

Phainon had always been in control of his body, his senses. He had fought beasts, endured wounds, trained his body to withstand agony.

But this was something else.

It was dizzying, like sinking into deep, burning water. A fire that spread through his limbs, up his spine, into his very bones.

It wasn’t just the blood loss that left him breathless.

It was you.

The way you clung to him. The soft, involuntary sounds that left your lips. The desperate way you needed him.

The way his body responded to it.

A low, involuntary groan escaped him. His fingers curled into the fabric of your clothes, gripping tight as the dizziness settled in.

It became a cycle.

You needed his blood.

And Phainon— Phainon needed the feeling of giving it to you.

Each time, it became easier. Each time, the pain faded faster, drowned out by something darker, something dangerously close to pleasure. It was twisted. It was addictive. And he didn’t care.

----

It started as a whisper. A fleeting suggestion. A dangerous temptation.

"Turn me."

At first, you thought he was delirious again, fevered and reckless, like the first time he offered himself. But the look in his eyes told you otherwise.

Phainon was serious.

And the worst part? You could feel it.

That same pull.

The same desperate, consuming hunger that gnawed at you, but mirrored in him.

A different kind of hunger. One not for blood, but for something far more insidious.

For you.

You stepped back, shaking your head. "No."

His smirk barely faltered. If anything, it deepened. "Why not?"

"Because it's a curse." Your voice was firm, but he saw the hesitation. "It’s—"

"A curse?" He interrupted smoothly, tilting his head. "Or a gift?"

You swallowed. "Phainon, don't-"

His hand shot out, grasping your wrist before you could put more distance between you. His grip was firm.

"Do you think I haven’t noticed?" he murmured, voice low, coaxing. "The way you try to resist, but you keep coming back to me?" His thumb brushed over your pulse, slow, deliberate. "You’re mine. And I’m already yours—whether you like it or not."

"Isn't this better?" he continued, "No more suffering. No more fevers. No more weakness." His blue eyes gleamed in the dim firelight. "If I become like you, we both get what we want."

Your fangs ached at the way he said it.

It was terrifying. Because you weren’t sure if you had the strength to deny him forever.

Phainon was relentless.

He let you think you could resist.

But he knew the truth. Because every time you fed from him, every time you drank deep and felt his pulse beneath your lips, every time you felt his body shudder against yours-

You got closer.

And closer.

Until one night—

You lost.

It wasn’t planned. It wasn’t a decision. It was an instinct. A moment where you had drunk too deep, where your senses blurred, where his breath hitched in something close to ecstasy.

And he didn’t pull away. He leaned into it. And in that haze-

He whispered, "Do it."

His voice was hoarse, pleading, desperate.

"Make me yours."

Your vision swam. Your hands were shaking. Your breath was uneven.

Your fangs sank deeper.

Not just to drink.

A violent, irreversible exchange. The taste of blood changed—thicker, darker, rich with something new. His body tensed against yours. A sharp inhale. A choked sound.

For a moment, everything stopped.

And you realized: You had done it.

Phainon was changing. And when his fever finally broke, when his eyes opened again— They weren’t the same. He wasn’t the same. And neither were you.

"Now nothing can ever separate us."

[diejager]

Yandere Pyramid what if he gets reader pregnant Just go crazy with this hahaha

(IS THAT EVEN POSSIBLE I DON'T KNOW BUT WITH HIS AMOUNT OF CUM I WOULDN'T DOUBT IT)

Paring : YANDERE Pyramid Head x fem!reader

Cw: smut, possible NON-CON/DUB-CON, tentacle tongue, possessive behaviour + sex, breeding, pregnancy, creampie, belly bulge, tell me if I missed any.

Wc: 674

He'd go wild at the idea of knocking you up, watching your soft stomach bloat with a new life and your breasts swell, nipples leaking milk that he could suck until his kid came out. He'd fuck you until you get pregnant, stuffing you with his cum and his cock, keeping every little swimmers inside your bulging heat. He liked watching you strain around his girth, walls twitching and closing tightly around him, your cries echoing under his metal pyramid.

It's a ritual, every night, any spare moment, he'd have you sprawled under him, rutting his length into your red, swollen cunt until you grew limp, a little cumdump for him. His bulbous tip kissed your cervix, pushing against your womb's entrance and pumped generous load after generous load into your warm, fertile womb, a virgin to childbirth.

Whether he had you under him, pounding away the hours of the night - or day if he felt like it - over him, riding his thick and veiny cock until your slick covered his whole abdomen, or against a wall, rattling the structure with his punching thrusts when felt especially feral; he made sure to cover you in his musk, body smelling of him with reminders of last night, dark bruises marring your skin.

They were brandings of the finest he could give (other than his seed branding your spasming cunt as his little cockdrunk survivor.) to show others who you belonged to. He's had his possessive strikes, growling at killers and survivors who got too close to you for his liking, waving his broadsword and shaking the ground in strong ripples.

Pyramid Head was exceptionally possessive, being a creature of grief and regret created for a sole purpose, granting him nothing to his name or soul to own. Such a situation makes a person - any person - possessive of their things, like a child deprived of toys and love, they grow possessive and careful.

And to add a child, some would think he'd hate his child for taking most of your attention, your affection and your time, but this child was from yours and his blood, a creation of yours. It was the second thing he could call his own, a living being - beside you - he could care for and nurture, it played with a more domestic side of him. It would simply mean he'd take more drastic and scary measures.

Just a big, broad Pyramid Head growling at anyone with his equally big toy in hand, truly the scariest guard dog in The Entity's world (Guard dog privileges+).

Extra: during the pregnancy

Man is oblivious to the struggle of women, especially pregnant ones. Mood swings and odd cravings make him scratch his head in confusion. Was it safe to eat pickles, then peanut butter and tuna in a sitting? Would it be bad if you woke up in discomfort and your stomach was ready to empty itself?

He's as clueless about childbirth as a baby, every step had to have help from The Nurse and The Doctor, both having some experience with pregnancies in their previous lives. Reluctantly, he'd call for them once he sees you hunched over a bowl, puking yesterday's food. If there was a step-by-step book about pregnancies, perhaps a 101 tips about pregnancies for noobs, Pyramid Head would need it, he needs all the help he can get.

He knows not fuck you, naturally, for the safety of his child. That, however, doesn't stop him from pleasing you, using his thick fingers to pump and curl into your upper wall and flick your swollen clit when your hormones act up and you get horny; or he'd tonguefuck you into overstimulation, with his tentacle-like tongue that slithers from under his mask, long and wet. He's agile with it, twisting his tongue in every sense and curling it into a ball to fuck you.

He's talented with his cock, his fingers and his tongue, nothing can stop him from caring for your needs, he's skilled in many ways.

[heyimkana]

Frost Burned

AO3 Link

Pairing: Werewolf!Jinwoo X Vampire!Reader

Genre: Enemies to Lovers AU, smut, fluff, slow burn

Summary: Sung Jinwoo is an alpha wolf who absolutely loathes vampires after they murdered his pack in cold blood. But one night, as he is suffering from terrible wounds, a lady vampire visits him with a sultry grin, offering him a solution to take away his pain—for a price.

Content Warnings: blood sucking (lots of that, RIP jinwoo), swearing (he has a potty mouth here), endless banter and teasing, slight dry humping, mentions of murder

Sung Jinwoo was no older than twenty-five when he met her for the first time—an alpha who had just lost his entire pack.

It happened in the blink of an eye, the tragedy that would change him forever. It stripped the warmth from his smile, replacing it with something colder, harder. Bitterness took root in the place of hope, and stoicism masked the soul he once freely shared. There had been seven of them—seven wolves bound by blood and loyalty, living in quiet harmony—until the night before the full moon, when they were all slaughtered.

All but him.

It was an ambush. One he never could have seen coming. A group of vampires—ancient, merciless, and impossibly strong—emerged from the shadows with their teeth bared. They struck just before the moon rose when the wolves were at their weakest, when their bodies were preparing for the shift and their strength lay dormant. The older the vampire, the more powerful they become—and these creatures had centuries of power behind them. Weakened by the upcoming Snow Moon, Jinwoo and his pack never stood a chance.

They were massacred.

Among them was his younger sister, Jinah.

Since that night, Jinwoo has carried a hatred so deep it burns. He swore he would avenge them—that he would find the ones responsible and bury them with his own hands. But the vampires vanished without a trace, like ghosts. And so he remains, haunted by guilt and grief, choosing solitude over rebuilding. He refuses to bond with another soul, to form another pack, to take another alpha’s title by blood. He walks alone—both as a man and a beast—with only the cold moonlight to witness his sorrow.

Across the quiet stretch of the same town, a lady vampire moves through the night with practiced grace and poise in her step. Though she has walked the earth for centuries, she appears no older than him—perhaps even a couple of years younger. She hides her age behind beauty and elegance, behind secrets she’s gathered over lifetimes.

Much like Jinwoo, she has chosen a life of solitude—but not out of grief. No, she lives alone because she finds other vampires intolerable. Something about the way they toy with human lives grates against her. The cruelty, the callousness—the way they treat people as nothing more than cattle to be drained. Yes, she drinks human blood too. She must. But unlike the others, she prefers to think herself… kinder.

Before she feeds, she compels her victims gently, soothing their fears, dulling their pain. And if her hunger ever overwhelms her control—and it has, on unfortunate occasions—she ensures their death is not one of terror or agony, but pleasure. It’s the least she can offer. A small mercy, in a world where her kind rarely shows any.

She and Jinwoo have crossed paths before, more times than he would've liked. Never intentionally. Never by his choice.

He used to loathe her on sight, assuming that she was just like the other bloodsuckers who murdered to survive. He would’ve killed her the first time they met—torn out her throat without a second thought—if it weren’t for the maddening softness in her eyes. She looked so damn innocent. So pure. And so damn pretty, too, prettier than anything he'd ever seen. It infuriated him.

But she never bared her fangs at him. Not once. She only met his fury with amusement, those shimmering eyes dancing as if his anger was her favorite game. And somehow… that intrigued him. Still does.

She grins every time he snaps at her, pleased with herself for riling him up. She sees through his temper, straight into the part of him he hides even from himself. He hates her—he says that often, loudly, sometimes with claws out—can’t stand a strand of her stupid, luscious hair, but strangely, he never actually tries to kill her. He should, but he doesn’t (yet), so that’s… something.

Tonight, they meet again. Unintentionally, of course.

The woods stretch far beyond the reach of civilization, blanketed in silence and moonlight. She walks as if she owns the earth beneath her feet, a vision of ethereal grace, her long, beautiful white dress trailing like mist behind her. In contrast, Jinwoo stumbles through the shadows, dressed in nothing but his jeans, his bare torso covered in scrapes and bruises.

Another werewolf's claws have been etched deep into his chest, five slashes marring his skin, leaving fresh, angry marks. Blood slides down his abdomen in thick rivulets, staining his jeans. The searing pain numbs his senses, his handsome face drawn tight as his vision begins to blur.

Eventually, his legs give out. He collapses against the base of a tree, panting, struggling to stay conscious. He tries to will himself into healing, but it’s no use—the wound is too deep, his strength too far gone. Every breath is a battle.

Then, he hears it.

Footsteps.

They crunch softly over the undergrowth, too measured to belong to another werewolf, too calm to be a threat. Still, Jinwoo tenses, bracing himself. He’s too weak to fight. Too exhausted to run.

So this is how I die? he thinks, bitterly amused. He doesn't fear death. He just thinks it’s pathetic to die without being able to put up a fight.

But then…

It’s her.

Of course, it’s her.

Fucking great.

“Oh my,” she says, a mock grimace curling her lips. Her eyes sweep over him, taking in the blood, the torn skin, the way he slumps against the tree like a man moments from death. “You somehow look even worse than the last time I saw you. And I was sure that was rock bottom.”

Jinwoo exhales through his nose, long and pained. Suddenly, he feels ten times more exhausted just from seeing her. “Maybe if I lie here long enough, a cougar will come and finish the job,” he mutters to himself, thinking that it’d be less painful and humiliating than whatever it is he’s going to go through with her.

The vampire clicks her tongue, stepping closer with the slow, graceful steps of a predator that knows there's no need to rush. “Now, now. Don’t be so dramatic. Cougars are picky eaters.”

He glares at her through half-lidded eyes. “Guess that makes two of you.”

She lets out a soft laugh, unbothered. “Oh, no. I’m starving, darling. You’re just not my type.”

Jinwoo lifts his head, his eyes sharp despite how battered he looks. For a split second there—before she opened that damn mouth of hers—he actually felt a flicker of relief at seeing a familiar face. But then reality set in and his frown returned like a reflex. She’s the last person he wants to see in this state, knowing full well she’ll waste no time ridiculing him for it. “Not in the mood to hear you run your mouth tonight, bloodsucker.”

“Well, unfortunately for you, puppy, I am in the mood to run my mouth tonight.” She stands tall above him, one hand cocked on her hip, her smirk all too pleased. “Half-naked again, I see. Honestly, I’m amazed you’re not in jail yet. Must be nice—having a face pretty enough to get away with indecent exposure.”

She always does this—flirts like it’s a hobby, like he’s just another toy to poke and prod for her amusement. It used to fluster him. Now, it just ignites his irritation. A slow burn in the back of his throat.

“You’re a weird little lady, you know that?”

And he means it. She's the only one who keeps coming back, undeterred by his snarls or his barbed words. Every time they meet, she’s there with that infuriating grin, acting like they’re old friends instead of natural-born enemies. He can’t understand why she’s never afraid of him. As a centuries-old vampire, she’s powerful—probably even faster than him—but one bite from an alpha like him could end her. Still, she treats him with soft head pats and teasing nicknames like he’s just a… well, a puppy. 

No matter how many times he pushes her away, she always comes back. Night after night, like clockwork—teasing him, riling him up, driving him absolutely insane with every damn word that leaves her mouth. And God, he fucking hates her for it.

But when she’s not around… The night stretches on endlessly. Quiet. Empty. Lonely.

Not that he’d ever admit that out loud. He’d rather bleed out under this tree first.

“Oh? That’s the first time you’ve ever called me a lady,” she says, visibly pleased, latching onto the smallest hint of civility in his tone. It's a skill really, for her to always find positivity in all the negativity he throws. “Don’t tell me I’ve finally charmed you?”

Jinwoo exhales a sharp breath of irritation. “What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be off somewhere draining some poor human dry?”

“I did that already, thanks for asking. What are you doing here? Shouldn’t you be out in the woods, running naked with your tongue hanging out?”

He knows she’s only trying to rile him up. She always does. And yet… beneath the annoyance, there’s something oddly comforting about her presence. Familiar. Predictable, in the strangest, most infuriating way. Like reconnecting with a friend you’ve always wanted to strangle.

“Shut up,” he grumbles. “I’d wipe that stupid grin off your face if I weren’t half-dead right now.”

She laughs, low and delighted. “Promises, promises.”

She’s tempted to keep the banter going, but curiosity gets the better of her. “So? What happened to you this time? Did some cat try to beat you to death?”

He ignores the jab, glancing down at his wounds, face twisting in a grimace. The pain cuts through him like a thousand hot needles with every breath. “Ran into another werewolf,” he mutters, voice dry. “We had a... disagreement.”

“Oh?” She tilts her head, lips twitching. “Let me guess. You lost and ran off with your tail between your legs?”

He snarls. “I killed him.”

That wipes the smirk from her face—for a moment, anyway.

“You werewolves are always so… barbaric,” she sighs, folding her arms over her chest. “You know, you should learn a thing or two from vampires.”

Jinwoo barks out a laugh, an ironic sound. “Oh, yeah? Like what? How to suck people dry and still act like you’re better than everyone else? How to be as arrogant and insufferable as you are?"

She keeps her pompous smile intact, unfazed by his harmless bite. “For starters, how to be attractive and elegant. I mean, look at me.” She gestures to her immaculate appearance. “Then look at you. You’ve got, what? One pair of jeans to your name?”

He scoffs, but there’s a flicker of amusement behind his eyes. “Right. And how about you learn a thing or two from werewolves? Like how to be brave and fierce instead of being a coward and a fucking parasite to survive?”

“Oh, honey, I am brave and fierce.” She tosses her hair over her shoulder, her pointy teeth peeking out from behind her grin. “You just think I’m not because I look like your sweet, delicate, out-worldly beautiful little princess,” she croons, her smile embodying the innocent charm that most men dream of seeing in a woman.

Jinwoo raises an eyebrow at her words. He’s a little taken aback by her confidence, but he tries to maintain his facade of indifference. “You don't look terrible in the eyes, I’ll give you that, Princess,” he says the word like it burns his tongue. “But I don’t think it counts as brave if you only hunt at night and run away at the first sign of sunlight.”

“Touché,” she shrugs. “Well, at least I don’t hump a fucking tree during a full moon.”

His cheeks flush red at her words, his eyes flashing with annoyance and anger. He growls.

“Mm, growling. What an intelligent response.”

He rolls his eyes at her sarcasm. “We werewolves can’t help ourselves around a full moon. You know that. You’re just trying to get on my nerves.”

She titters, “I’m just surprised you didn’t deny humping a tree.”

“Oh, shut up.” His blush deepens, creeping from his cheeks to the tips of his ears. “You know damn well that’s not true.”

“True or not,” she says with a sly grin, “it doesn’t change the fact that you’re just a beast with no control over your instincts. Unlike me.” Her smile softens then, and her voice lowers just a touch. “But enough about that, love.” She crouches in front of him, sitting gracefully on her heels. Her gaze shifts, focused now—not mocking, but strangely gentle—as she scans the angry slashes carved across his chest. “Those are nasty wounds,” she murmurs. “They’re not healing. Why?”

Jinwoo tenses under her stare, and immediately regrets it. Pain flares across his torso, sharp enough to make him suck in a breath through his teeth. Still, he doesn’t flinch away. “Got them from another alpha,” he grunts. “They take longer to heal. Different kind of venom in the claws.”

She hums thoughtfully, then—without asking—reaches out. Her fingers trail lightly across his skin, cold and delicate against his overheated body. He hisses, part instinct, part alarm. “What are you doing?”

“Relax. I’m just trying to see how deep they go.” She doesn't necessarily need to touch him to figure that out, but there's this desire within her that she cannot ignore. After all, it's rare to find him so vulnerable like this, grimacing like a child at the slightest touch. He almost seems… cute. “Does this hurt?” she asks softly, her fingertips grazing the deepest of the wounds.

Jinwoo bites down hard on his lower lip to muffle the groan clawing up his throat. Shame burns hotter than his blood. He’s never been this exposed in front of anyone—especially not a vampire, and especially not her. Every inch of him is on display, from the taut muscles of his abdomen to the sharp cut of his hips. And she… She doesn’t even blink, damn her.

He nods once, jaw tight. “It… Yeah,” he admits hoarsely. “Of course it hurts.”

His gorgeous body is a sinful temptation, but the scent of his blood triggers her senses more than the growing lust she holds for him. She thought she could chase the thoughts away, but being this close to him, it’s beginning to grow unbearable for her. “Listen, Jin,” she starts, her tone losing its usual teasing edge. “I can’t heal you. But I can take the pain away… if you want.”

His eyes narrow at her offer. “And what? You’re gonna bite the pain away, bloodsucker?”

Her nose scrunches in distaste, though her fangs press lightly at her lip from the effort of holding back. “Can we be civil for one second, please? And stop calling me bloodsucker. I’ve told you my name before, haven’t I?”

“I don't give a damn about your na—ah!” He jerks forward with a ragged gasp as her fingers brush a particularly raw edge of the wound. The sound shocks them both—more intimate than either of them expects. Her eyes flick to his, wide, while Jinwoo bears his teeth in frustration and pain, humiliated that the noise even escaped him.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he snaps, baring his teeth menacingly as he dwells in his chagrin. 

“I didn’t know you could sound like that,” she chuckles, her smirk dripping with filth. “Cute.” But when his nails lengthen into claws, her amusement falters. She raises her hands in mock surrender, though the gleam in her eye never fully fades. “Hey, hey, calm down,” she coos. “I was just messing with you, darling. No need to shift just because you moaned like a girl.” Her grin sharpens, back in full force. “I like it, though. Would love to hear more.”

“I’m gonna kill you.”

“Geez. From shut up to I’m gonna kill you—pretty girls just can’t catch a break these days, huh?” She exhales with feigned dramatics, but instead of backing off, she leans in. Closer. Close enough that she could straddle him if she wanted to. (And she wants to.)

“I’m offering you a friendly bargain here, puppy,” she murmurs, brushing her knuckles along his cheek.

“Don’t touch me,” he tosses his face to the side, glowering. “And don’t call me puppy. I’m not making any deal with you, bloodsucker. Just fucking leave me alo—ngh—” The pain hits again. His breath catches, a guttural groan escaping before he can stop it. His fists clench in the dirt.

“Easy now,” she says, far too pleased. “You don’t want to get too worked up.”

“And whose fault do you think that is?!” 

“Not mine you’ve got the temper of a toddler.” Her grin widens. “And, Sweetheart, trust me—you need my help.”

“I’d rather die.”

She rolls her eyes. “And I’m the drama queen?” A pause. Then a look sweeps over him—sharp, unreadable. “You keep pretending you’re strong, but all I see is a stubborn idiot bleeding out in the woods. Although...” she tilts her head, lips curling, “I won’t lie. There’s a charm to it. I find pathetic men to be... endearing.”

“You’re a fucking pervert— ”He flinches again, jaw clenched tight as another wave of torture rips through him.

“Well, you’re a masochist for enjoying pain so much."

He ignores her, trying to loosen up. The more his vexation gets the best of him, the more pain he has to endure. “Damn it.”

“It hurts that bad, huh?” She winces in sympathy but does not feel a sliver of remorse for contributing to his suffering. “The offer still stands, you know. I can get rid of it. Everything, all at once. But you have to trust me.” Her sweet, silvery voice rings wonderfully in his ears, but he can't seem to do what she asks of him just yet. He has no choice but to try, however, once she boldly closes the distance, rising on her knees until she looms above him, her body a breath away from his.

His eyes stretch in surprise at the sudden proximity, his face tipped back to meet her gaze. “Y-You—” He’s cut off by the sight of her irises turning a deep, brilliant crimson. They glow like embers, too bright, too beautiful—like stars set on fire.

“Pay attention, Sweetheart,” she purrs, then she bares her teeth, drawing her lips back slowly like a curtain. Her fangs lengthen, gleaming like polished ivory beneath the pale moonlight. A shiver dances down his spine. “We’ve got toxins in our bite, you see,” she says, voice honey-sweet and laced with sin. “Like a drug. One bite, and I can flood your veins with it—numb the pain, send your head spinning. If I drink long enough...” her smile turns wicked. “I can take you to cloud nine. If you know what I mean.”

He jerks his head away, scowling through a flush that’s far too obvious. “A-As if I’d let you drink from me.”

“Oh, you will.” She cups his face, forcing him to meet her gaze. “Because you need it. You're not fooling anyone with your tough act, Jin. I know you're begging for relief.” The distance between them is almost nonexistent. Had she been human, her breath would be dancing over his lips by now. “And I’m ready to give it to you, but, of course”—her lips trail lower, her smirk brushing the shell of his throat— “There will be a small price to pay. You know I don’t do favors for free... not even for a handsome boy like you.”

The little scarlet that blooms on his cheeks betrays the venom he utters through clenched teeth. “I'm not a boy.”

“Maybe not, but you're definitely handsome,” she replies shamelessly, sending a deeper flush across his cheeks. Her hand leaves his face only to slide downward, one finger tracing his skin in a slow, delicate path from his collarbone to the underside of his chin. She tilts his face upward, looming over him like a predator savoring the moment before the bite. Her smile widens as she hears the frantic thrum of his heart beneath her fingers.

“Although I’m sure your werewolf blood will taste disgusting, it’s the only thing you have to offer... unless”— she pauses to build anticipation, letting her lips trail to his ear, her wicked smirk brushing against its edge—“there’s something else you’d like to give me?”

His claws sink into the earth below, trying to chase away the thrill that suffuses him with every word she speaks. “What…” he croaks out, though the implication in her words is obvious. “What do you mean?"

She smiles angelically despite the salaciousness in the next line she utters. “I’ve heard rumors about wolves like you…” Her lips hover at his skin, her whisper silk-wrapped sin. “All that raw stamina. That wild, uncontrollable side. Makes me wonder just how true they are.” Her mouth itches to capture his lobe and suckle it between her teeth, but she refrains. Judging from his reaction, he's already close to losing his mind even without her doing so.

“Tell me, Jin, are you as… untamed as they say?” She purrs softly in his ear, bestowing the slightest of kisses on the skin below his ear. “If I had you for just one night… Would you lose control for me? Would you claim me like the beast you really are?”

The veins in his throat protrude as he tries to rein in his desire. She’s like a siren, awakening something primal within him. His body trembles with the effort to hold back, his throat working around a growl. After a few agonizing seconds, he shoves her back by the shoulders—enough to breathe, not enough to hurt her. His face is blazing. “Fuck you.”

“That's the idea, darling.” She curls her fingers around his wrist, her grip like steel in velvet. Then, with breathtaking audacity, she presses into the crook of his neck. “I want you to fuck me.” Lust laces her whisper, heavy and electric. Her icy cold lips feel soothing on his warm skin, and at the same time, thrilling. “And in return… I’ll take away your pain. Every last trace of it. Not a bad deal, hmm?”

“God—damn it,” he mutters through clenched teeth. The pain is unbearable. But the temptation…

He can try and mask it all he wants, but she can smell it. His arousal, hot and heady, bleeding through his resolve like smoke through cracks. 

Jinwoo looks up at her, flushed and panting. “Are you... really asking me that?”

Honestly, she wasn’t. It started as a joke. But seeing him like this—flushed, desperate, curious—makes her wonder if it has to be a joke at all. “Would you say yes if I were?"

He turns mute, taking a moment for himself. Whether he’s trying to detect her lies or to ruminate on his options, she can’t tell. 

She giggles, delighted by his silence. “Your heart’s beating like crazy. I’m surprised. Who knew the big, bad wolf was a virgin?”

He turns bright red, redder than he’s ever been. ”I’m—I’m not a virgin!”

“Wouldn’t bother me if you were,” she simpers. “In fact…” Her voice dips, syrupy and slow. “It makes me want to ruin you even more.”

“You—” He abandons the sentence midway, exhaling harshly, flustered and impatient. “Can you not run your damn mouth for one second?”

She tilts her head, lashes fluttering. “Should I use it instead?” Her smirk deepens. “You still haven’t answered me, you know. I can make you feel so good with my mouth. My teeth, I mean.”

Jinwoo narrows his eyes, struggling to compose himself. “Why should I trust you? That toxin of yours could be bullshit. For all I know, you just want to turn me into your personal blood bag.”

“Maybe I do.” She shrugs playfully. “It’s your call, wolfie. But I won’t wait forever.” 

She taps his nose with one finger, light as a feather, then rises to her feet with maddening grace. The midnight wind catches her hair as she turns away, her dress swaying in the dark.

“Enjoy the pain,” she sings softly, and begins to walk.

Jinwoo watches her go, jaw clenched, heart racing. The pain claws at him from the inside. And now that her touch is gone, the cold sinks deeper into his bones.

He remembers the look on that poor bastard’s face when she bit him—not agony, but ecstasy. Disgust had been his first reaction. But somewhere, deep in the back of his mind, curiosity had stirred. He couldn't help but wonder how it would feel like to be under a vampire’s—no, not that—her mercy.

And now, temptation screams louder than ever.

He hesitates. Then—

“Fuck it,” he growls, his pride fracturing. “Hey—wait.”

A devilish, victorious grin blooms on her lips, though she quickly veils it behind a mask of feigned innocence. She pivots, eyes wide, voice sweet. “Yes?”

He meets her gaze, something volatile swimming behind his eyes—caution, yes, but also hunger. “You’ll take away the pain, right? You’ll make it feel like... like I’ve downed ten bottles of alcohol?”

“Oh, honey.” Her lips curve up beautifully, sinfully, as the light in her eyes sharpens and flares in delight. “I’ll make you feel like you just had the best orgasm of your life.”

Fire fills his cheeks, but he veils it with a scoff. “You’d better be right about that, bloodsucker.”

“I don’t tell lies, Sweetheart,” she says—another lie, but he’s too worn out to challenge it.

She saunters closer, crouching to meet him at eye level, her voice dipping into something intimate. “Now that my puppy is being honest and demanding… I need a promise in return.”

She can hear his heartbeat quickening just a tad faster in anticipation, but on the outside, he scowls. “What is it?”

“I need you…” Her gaze gleams as she brushes her fingers along his cheek, keeping him imprisoned. “To be a good boy for me.” 

Her thumb toys with the corner of his mouth, and he freezes—just for a second.

“No biting. No growling. No talking back. I want manners, obedience. I want you to listen.” Her voice lowers into something satiny. “Can you do that for me, darling?”

Scarlet creeps across his face, fury and arousal tangled in a knot in his chest. He looks at her with a conflicted expression, her request going against his very nature. He’s a werewolf, for fuck’s sake, and she’s a goddamn vampire. He’s supposed to be tearing her heart out instead of wagging his tail for her, and yet… the thought of putting on a restraint around himself and handing her the leash… isn’t necessarily too bad.

As an apex predator, his pride and instinct won’t allow him to bend his knees and succumb to anyone’s wish, but something about her makes him want to let loose, to embrace his vulnerability, and just be Sung Jinwoo, the lonely man who secretly seeks company, who craves for affection, who wishes to find someone who can accept both the fragile part of him and the beast inside him. 

Maybe he’s tired of fighting. Tired of aching. Tired of being alone.

Maybe the thought of someone else taking the reins—even a devil like her—feels more like relief than defeat.

And right now, with pain burning through him and pride slipping between his fingers, that relief sounds like salvation.

“Baby,” she prompts, sweetly chiding. “I’m asking you a question.”

“Enough with the pet names,” he curtly utters though the rasp in his voice betrays him. “Fine. I’ll try my best not to kill you tonight.”

She doesn’t smile. Not this time.

Instead, her hand closes around the side of his neck—not rough, not painful, but firm. Her eyes shift, voice laced with command. “That’s not what I want to hear.”

The sudden dominance in her voice catches him off guard, leaving a trail of chills. “I’ll…” His pulse hammers high in his chest, eyes trapped in the intensity of hers. “I’ll behave.”

Her voice softens again, but her grip does not. “Promise?”

His throat bobs with a hard swallow, tension winding tight beneath his skin. Something unfamiliar, something exciting, swells inside him. “I promise.”

And just like that, she effortlessly slips back into her playful theatrics. “Well, aren’t you an adorable little puppy?” She grins, scratching him below his chin in mock affection. 

Jinwoo pulls back with a snarl, almost baring his teeth, but he chokes back his threat before it can take form. A promise is a promise.

She watches him wrestle with himself, amusement plain on her face. “That’s a good boy.”

Then, without hesitation, she straddles his lap, settling atop him like a queen claiming her throne. Her fingers ghost down his chest. Her lips part just enough to let her tongue wet her bottom lip.

“Let’s begin, shall we?”

***

Jinwoo bites back a gasp at her touch, his muscles coiling as she splays her palm on his chest. It feels like ice, he thinks, amidst the clamorous sound of his thundering heart. She speaks with the same quiet surprise he feels, whispering, “Your skin’s burning hot,” her touch gentle and reverent as her hand glides over his chest, then down to trace the sculpted ridges of his abdomen, as if memorizing him by feel. 

She avoids his wounds with practiced ease, but he wouldn’t have minded if she touched them now—not when this is what her hands feel like. Her touch feels so intimate, so—

“Soothing,” she whispers, unknowingly echoing his thoughts, both of them caught in the same feeling. She smiles, almost in wonder, paralyzing him with her beauty. She reaches forward to pull him into an embrace, resting her face in the crook of his neck as she nestles herself on his lap. “Your body feels so warm against mine… It’s nice.”

Blood pools on his face, rendering him speechless. He’s never been this close to anyone. Not like this. “What are you doing?” he manages, the edge in his voice dulled into something shy, uncertain.

“I’m hugging you,” she answers matter-of-factly, eyes closed as though she’s found peace.

“I know that. I mean—” Jinwoo jolts, his nails scraping the ground below when he feels the tip of her nose brushing against his collarbone. “W-why?”

She lets out a low, sultry purr, her arms twining tighter around his neck as the sound pulses against his ear. “Because it feels good,” she says simply, truthfully, and he hates that he can’t argue.

Not only does her body feel perfect against him, fitting him like a missing puzzle piece, her scent is wonderful, too—subtle and lovely, something undeniably hers. He hadn’t noticed it before when there was a distance between them, assuming that she carried a similar scent to all the vampires he’d encountered. But now that she’s up close, he finds there’s something else beneath it, something sweet and pleasant, and so damn intoxicating. A scent that he thought would perfectly describe her as the human she once was.

He breathes her in and nearly drowns in it. Everything about her feels right.

He’s derailing, losing his mind.

“Don’t be so tense, Jin,” she murmurs, kissing the edge of his jaw. Her lips are soft, barely there, but they send lightning through his veins. “You’re going to make me nervous.”

Liar.

She’s never nervous. She’s composed, confident, while he’s one stray breath from falling apart.

An unfamiliar warmth stirs in his belly as he dwells further in the intimacy. He needs to stay focused.

“J-Just get on with it," Jinwoo mutters, desperate for a shift—any shift—from this unbearable closeness. But then her tongue glides against his neck, slow and precise, tracing the vein beneath his skin.

His whole body jolts.

“Be patient, Sweetheart. I’m doing my best to be gentle,” she whispers, her voice a tender promise. 

She lowers her mouth to his chest, scattering kisses over his skin. Each one is calculated like she’s laying a spell, and when her lips brush the edge of a wound, he jerks, his hand catching in the fabric of her dress. “Fuck.”

She pulls back, lifting her gaze to his. “Does it hurt?”

“N-No,” he breathes out raggedly, casting his face to the side, flushed. “It’s just… It feels weird.”

She watches him for a beat, her expression softening, layered by a genuine concern. But then she sees it—his flushed face, the vulnerability in his eyes—and her smirk returns, full of mischief. “A good weird or a bad weird?”

He glares, flustered. “Just weird. Are you going to bite me or not?”

She leans in, her voice tantalizing. “Want me to put my mouth on you so badly, huh?”

“Oh my God, can you not—” he groans, feeling ashamed for her sake. “Can you not say things like that?”

“I’m sorry.” She is absolutely not sorry. She drags her face back to his chest, her grin audible in her voice. “I just love making you blush.”

“I’m not blu—ah—” A deep, involuntary moan slips from his lips as her tongue grazes his sensitive bud, the delicate touch sending waves of heat through him. 

“And moan,” she finishes with a laugh. 

A low, menacing growl rumbles from his chest, his face burning and his teeth bared. He knows he shouldn’t have done that—not after promising her he’d behave—but fuck, that was so embarrassing.

“Get. On. With. It.” 

He should shove her off. Regain control. Say something to pull himself back together. But instead… he just sits there.

Letting her touch him.

Letting her own him.

And worst of all—he doesn’t even want to stop her.

The thought slams into him like a freight train. No. No fucking way. There's no way he’s enjoying this.

...right?

He barely has time to spiral further before her tongue presses to his wound. His breath stutters. The tingling sensation spreads like wildfire, blooming outward from every spot she touches.

Jinwoo clenches his fists so tightly his knuckles crack, jaw tense as he tries—and fails—to stop his body from trembling.

Damn it. Am I really—?

But she pulls away from him before he can finish the thought, and his breath catches—ragged and uneven. His mind reels, thoughts spinning out of grasp.

“W-what?” he stammers, eyes locked on hers, searching for meaning in the flicker of surprise etched across her face. “Something wrong?”

“Your blood…” Her voice is barely audible, her eyes locked on his chest, dazed. She licks her lips, slowly, languidly. “It’s not as disgusting as I thought it would be…”

“Huh..? What do you—ngh—” His head drops forward, jaw slack as a shudder runs through him the moment her tongue grazes his wound again. “W-wait—” he breathes, voice shaky, too weak to stop her, too consumed to mean it.

She doesn't wait. Doesn't even pretend to stop. She keeps going, licking at the wound with torturously slow, stimulating strokes. There’s a sensuality to it, a quiet reverence that makes his head spin. Each pass of her tongue stokes the ache inside him—of pain, of longing, of something far more dangerous. She laps at the wound, savoring every trace she can reach.

This feels… Jinwoo trembles, his lids shut close as he suffers through both pain and pleasure. So weird…

A soft moan breaks free from her as the rich taste of his blood spreads across her tongue. He hears it. Feels it. And it wrecks him.

She draws herself back again, her lips stained a darker shade of red, her voice heavy with wonder. “So sweet…” she murmurs, voice thick with yearning. The crimson gleam in her eyes deepens, shimmering with desire and hunger. Her lips part in a delicate, seductive smile, fangs catching the light. “You taste divine, Jin.”

He sees it—the shift in her eyes, the way his blood awakens something darker, something primal within her. A monster, barely restrained. He knows he’s vulnerable, too weak to defend himself if she were to lose control. And yet… there’s no fear. No panic. Only the sharp thrill of anticipation humming in his veins. He’s not afraid of what she might do—he’s eager for it. Eager to see how far she’ll go.

How far she'll ruin him.

She places her hand on the side of his neck, her digits lightly tracing over his pressure points. “I’m going to bite you here,” she says, her voice above a whisper. And she doesn’t breathe, not anymore, but at this moment, clouded by her immense longing for blood, she sounds breathless. “Is that okay?”

Jinwoo swallows thickly, his heart pumping more blood through his veins. “D-do whatever you wa—”

Her fangs puncture his flesh before he can finish. He draws a short gasp, his mouth falling open in a silent groan as shock zings through his entire body. The pain is blinding for a moment, like a pair of knives tearing into his soul, but then…

Oh.

Oh, fuck.

Something shifts. The agony morphs into bliss—hot, heady, all-consuming. His muscles go slack, eyes fluttering back as a haze of pleasure wraps around his bones, and under the moon’s quiet gaze—bearing witness to the way his hardened facade crumbles beneath her bite—something inside him breaks.

Or maybe it’s something being rebuilt.

A faint smile ghosts across his lips.

This feels…

So fucking good.

“Mmph,” she moans as hot blood floods her mouth, her fangs sinking deeper into his flesh. She meant to be gentle—she swears to every god and devil that she did—but nothing could have prepared her for this. She’s never tasted werewolf blood before, and it’s unlike anything she’s known. It shatters every belief she holds.

If her bite is a drug, then his blood is the overdose. It’s the addiction that ruins her—sweet, searing, intoxicating. She drinks straight from the source, where it runs the hottest, the sweetest, where he feels most alive beneath her mouth. And she can’t stop. Can’t think. The craving claws through her with every pulse of his heartbeat against her lips.

“Suck you dry,” she confesses out loud, her eyes hazy with her desire as she laps at his skin. “You taste so fucking good, I want to suck you dry, Jin.”

She moves down to his shoulder and pierces the skin there, not holding back. The pain must be searing, but she can’t stop, not even to slow down for a moment.

The pain from her fresh bite chars through him, sharp and consuming—but laced with a pleasure so intense it leaves him trembling, breathless. It’s as if every nerve in his body is being lit up at once, electric and overstimulated, yet somehow numbed at the rims by the haze she’s pulling him into. His eyes flicker open, dazed and unfocused, fixed on the sky above as the world blurs around him.

“Fucking hell…” Jinwoo utters in a strangled whisper before a small chuckle follows. “This is… so much better than alcohol…” 

She would’ve laughed cockily if she were in the right state of mind, but she isn’t. She’s just as intoxicated as he is, her sanity thinning from the heat of his skin and the taste of his blood, thick and sweet on her tongue. Her hands grip him like he’s prey, like letting go would kill her. She sucks harder, laps greedily at the punctures she’s made, chasing every drop like it’s salvation.

Somewhere in the farthest recess of her mind, a voice screams—Stop. You’re taking too much. But she doesn’t care. Can’t care. All she knows is that she needs more. All of him. Every last drop.

Jinwoo’s hand drifts up, fingers weaving into her hair as he gently cradles her head, guiding her closer. His neck arches, offering more—offering everything. “More…” he breathes, voice rough and trembling with need. His head falls back against the rough bark of the pine tree towering above them, grounding him as he unravels. “Take it… All of it. I’ll give you everything, just… Don’t stop.”

She obeys his plea, silencing the last flickers of reason screaming in the back of her mind. Her grip tightens, possessive and unwavering, as she drinks him in with unrestrained hunger. Jinwoo writhes beneath her, body caught in that exquisite space between agony and ecstasy. He feels his strength slipping away, drawn out with every pull of her mouth—but the euphoria flooding his veins eclipses it all. It’s overwhelming, otherworldly, and nothing in his life has ever come close to this.

His blood surges through her like fire in her veins, and it’s everything—rich, intoxicating, maddening. She wants more. She wants it all. She wants to drain him dry, feel every last drop spill into her. But beneath the rush, she feels it—his heartbeat slowing, faltering as her toxin takes hold. His body softening under her grip. A flicker of panic pierces through the haze.

I really should stop… The thought claws at her, faint and fragile against the roaring hunger, but it’s there. I have to stop before I lose him, but… I can’t… It feels too good... I need more...

I could stay like this forever, he thinks, as a strange, weightless calm settles over him. The pain in his chest feels distant now, like a memory fading in the haze. His body floats—light, untethered—but at the same time, it burns. Not with agony, but with her. Every nerve is a live wire, flaring only for her: the deep, purposeful sink of her fangs; the way her moans hum against his skin; the slick drag of her tongue as she drinks him in. 

His eyelids grow heavy, his thoughts slow, drifting into fog. It feels like sleep—final, irreversible. And maybe it is. But instead of fear, there’s only quiet acceptance. Dying like this, held in her arms, consumed by her… it doesn’t feel like the worst way to go. It feels like surrender.

What a weird feeling, he ponders, fighting to keep his eyes open. Just a moment ago, he wanted to push her away and distance himself from her for good, and now…

I don’t want to let go. I want to stay like forever. With her.

Jinwoo wants to hold her closer, bury himself in her warmth, anchor himself to her—but his body betrays him. His strength slips through his fingers like water, and the hand tangled in her hair loosens, trailing down her back before falling to the ground.

His lashes flutter, the world dimming at the edges. He wishes—just once more—to see her face, to memorize the curve of her smile. But the darkness that comes for him… isn’t so cruel. It’s soft. Soothing. Peaceful. Almost like her.

The moment she senses his body go still, the hunger inside her halts like a snapped thread. She jerks back, fangs retracting instinctively.

“Jin?” His name falls from her lips, cracked with worry. Her brows knit tight as her gaze searches his face—his eyes are closed, his head limp, tilted to the side. Her mouth is still slick with his blood, the metallic taste clinging to her tongue, but the sight of him like this—silent, too still—cuts through the haze of temptation like ice.

“J-Jin? Jinwoo, open your eyes, honey,” she pleads, voice trembling. A ripple of panic surges through her, fast and cold, and it burns the crimson from her irises, shifting them back to their natural shade. Something is wrong. Very wrong.

And she’s the reason why.

"Jinwoo," she shakes him by the shoulders, her fingers digging in despite the tremors racing through her hands. "Jin, come on, wake up." His heart is still beating—she can hear it—but it’s slow, dangerously slow, like a fading drumbeat echoing from too far away.

No.

No, no, no.

I shouldn’t have done this. Panic claws up her throat. What do I do now? How do I fix this?

She can take from him, drink him dry—but she has nothing to give back.

“Jin!” Her voice cracks, thick with rising tears. She can't fathom why. She never despised him, no, but does he truly mean enough to her to be worth her tears?

Whatever the answer may be, one thing is certain: she’s never felt so powerless, so utterly terrified.

“Jinwoo, please—please, open your eyes for me, baby. Stay with me.” Her words flutter on the edge of a sob, her fear bleeding into every syllable.

Werewolves can heal on their own… right? She clings to the thought like a lifeline, but doubt immediately creeps in. Her mind races, desperate for something—anything—that might save him. There has to be a way. How do I help him heal faster?

Blood. He needs blood. But how can I give it to him? Steal a blood bag from the hospital? I don’t even know what his blood type is. 

I could take him to a clinic and leave him there, but… What happens when they realize what he is? What will they do to him if they find out he’s a werewolf?

If only he still had a pack. Someone. Anyone. I could bring him to them, even if it’d cost me my life. But he doesn’t have anyone, does he?

He’s alone. Always has been. And the crushing weight of that truth slams into her chest, folding her in half with guilt.

He has no one… No one but her...

And I did this to him.

“Fuck,” she chokes out, panic tightening around her chest like a vice, tears obscuring her vision as her hands cling to him. “Why did you never tell me about yourself? Why wouldn’t you let me in?” Her voice quavers, breaking under the weight of the storm raging inside her. Rage, grief, helplessness—they all blur together, clawing at her ribs.

And now... it’s too late, isn't it?

“Goddammit, Jin!” she sobs, tears spilling freely down her cheeks. When was the last time she cried like this? She doesn’t know—maybe she never has—but now, the weight in her chest feels like it might shatter her in two. She’s trembling, barely holding herself together, her throat tight with the sobs she’s trying to swallow.

Her fist curls, and she strikes his chest—not out of anger, but out of sheer desperation. “Wake up!” she pleads, her voice rising in pitch, her words thick with grief. “Open your eyes!”

I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. 

Every attempt ends with failure. The one that keeps winning is time, constantly moving, turning deaf ears to her plea. And once she quiets down, the night turns hushed.

His heartbeat is fainter than a ghost's whisper.

“Please…” she whimpers, her voice so soft it barely carries, wrapping her arms tightly around his neck as if holding him could somehow chain his soul in place. Her tears soak his skin, trailing down his collarbone like silent confessions. She buries her face in the dip of his neck, clutching him like something fragile slipping through her fingers. Her eyes squeeze shut, as if shutting out the world might delay the truth.

The weight of it crashes into her all at once—the horror of losing him, her only friend.

“Jinwoo…” she murmurs beneath her broken tears. “Please…”

Don’t leave me.

She feels helpless, growing even more so with the more seconds passing by. All she can do is press her ear to his chest, clinging to the fragile thump of his slowing heart, praying for it to pick up—just a little. Just enough.

But he’s too still.

His body, once burning with life, has gone unnervingly cool in her arms. And his face—normally kissed bronze by the sun—is now drained of color, ghostly pale. The sight of it carves deep into her, a cruel echo of everything she’s about to lose.

In the hollow ache of her grief, she clings to a fragile illusion—imagining him stirring awake in her arms, warm breath brushing her cheek as his calloused fingers gently thread through her tangled hair. In her mind, his voice is soft, reassuring, full of life as he tells her that he’s okay. That he’s safe and sound. That this is all just a dream she can wake up from. She wants to believe it. She needs to. 

She wonders what he’d say if he saw her like this, broken and bare, sobbing until her tears ran dry. Would Jinwoo laugh at her? Tease her? Knowing him, he’d probably reprimand her for being so careless. She can almost hear it, his voice when he calls her an—

“Idiot.”

She blinks. The final tear clinging to her lashes slips free, landing softly on his collarbone. For a split second, she can’t tell if what she’s feeling is another cruel trick of her desperate imagination—until she hears it. His heartbeat. Slow. Steady. Real. A rhythmic thrum beneath her palm.

She gasps, tearing herself from him just enough to rise onto her knees, eyes wide as she looks down at him. And she sees him—the man who’s quietly stolen her heart, thread by thread, without her even noticing... until now.

Color slowly returns to his face, chasing away the pallor that had haunted her moments ago. His lips twitch into a faint smile, and his eyes, though heavy-lidded, seek hers.

Disbelief flickers across her face, chased quickly by a tidal wave of relief so overwhelming it threatens to steal every bit of her strength. “Jin…” His name falls from her lips in a fragile voice as a shaky smile breaks through her sorrow. She reaches out, fingers brushing gently against his cheek, and he leans into her touch, the gesture weak but unmistakably his. 

He’s alive. 

He’s alive. He’s alive. He’s alive.

“Oh, Jin.” She throws herself into his arms, holding him like she might never let go again. Her embrace is fierce, almost desperate, as if by clinging to him tightly enough, she can keep him forever in this world, bound to her. Her tears return, but this time, they fall in quiet gratitude, glazing his skin as she buries her face against his chest.

“You’re alive…” she whispers, voice breaking on a sob, her hands clinging onto his back. “Thank goodness, you’re alive…”

She says it again and again, like a prayer, like a miracle she still can’t fully believe. And in that moment, she doesn’t care how fragile he is or how broken she feels. All that matters is that he’s here—in her arms, breathing, warm. She hadn't realized how deeply he'd embedded himself into her heart until the thought of losing him had torn it apart.

“Barely,” he breathes out with a faint chuckle, his voice hoarse, like it’s clawing its way out of a well. His hand drifts up to the back of her head, fingers tangling gently in her hair as he cradles her close. “You’re… a fucking idiot, you know that?”

She lets out a watery laugh, blinking back the tears that threaten to fall again. “I know. I’m sorry.”

His gaze softens even as he groans, “A little more and you would’ve actually killed me.”

“I know…” she repeats her apology, the weight of guilt crashes down on her again. Her composure shatters—no trace of the arrogance, the mischief, or the effortless grace she wore like second skin. Now, she’s just a girl—fragile, broken—sobbing into his chest like she’s trying to cry the pain away. “I’m so sorry…”

Jinwoo sighs, but there’s nothing but elation in his chest. Somehow, his broken body found its way back from the edge—and he’s grateful. Grateful that he gets to reunite with her again. Grateful that he gets to see her like this, stripped of all pretense, a breathtaking woman shedding tears over the thought of losing him. And despite the pain, despite the blood and fear, he wouldn’t trade this moment for anything. Because here, in the raw silence between them, they’re finally honest. Vulnerable. No masks, no lies. Just two lonely souls finding shelter in each other—and letting go of the ache they’ve carried alone for far too long.

He’s found something rare—a friend who drives him insane and anchors him all at once. And even if there are days he wants to strangle her, he knows, with every aching breath, he’ll never let her go. The same way she didn't want to let him go before.

“Stop crying already,” he says, no bite behind the words—just the ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. “You look awful when you cry.”

She lets out a sound between a laugh and a scoff. “You really shouldn’t say that to a lady.”

“What lady?” He playfully scoffs. “A lady would’ve taken care of my wounds instead of trying to suck me dry.”

“I said I'm sorry,” she sniffles, pouting—and it’s so painfully cute, he has to dig his fingers into the earth to keep himself away from kissing her.

“Didn’t you go on a whole rant about being the one with self-control? The one who doesn’t let instincts take over?”

“I am sorry!” She cringes in shame. “But I helped you, didn’t I? You’re not in pain anymore.”

“True. Almost sent me back to see God, too, but yeah, thanks.”

“Oh, please. We both know you’re going straight to hell.”

“And I’ll meet you there, Princess,” Jinwoo says with a crooked smirk.

Her shoulders slacken at the sight, the tension bleeding from her limbs. Her eyes, still glossed with tears, settle on him with a softness he’s never seen before—stripped of bravado, free of fire. In that quiet, honest gaze, she looks almost unearthly, bathed in moonlight, as though heaven itself had borrowed her just for tonight.

It steals his breath away. She steals his breath away.

He blinks, trying to summon the sardonic mask he’s worn so well. “What? No witty comeback?”

Instead of answering, she leans in, her hands rising to cradle his face with a gentleness that catches him off guard.

“Jin…”

“W-wait, what are you—”

But the words die on his tongue when her lips brush against his. It’s a kiss barely there—cool and trembling—but it melts straight through him, leaving his heart fumbling in his chest. Her mouth is soft, unsure, and fleeting. Her lips sweet and pliant, icy cold yet burning every inch of his skin. It ends before he can catch it, before he can even begin to kiss her back.

She pulls away, her expression suddenly shy, her cheeks tinted with the faintest hue of warmth—something so achingly human. It’s a sight he’s never seen before and it leaves him stunned.

“You...” Jinwoo swallows hard, his voice hoarse. “You just kissed me.”

“I did,” she whispers, barely audible. Her usual fire is gone, replaced by something softer, more fragile. She can’t even meet his eyes, her gaze fixed somewhere over his shoulder as if terrified of what she might see in his face. It stirs something deep in him—something tender.

Is this… the real you? he wonders, his heart palpitating as he seeks for answer.

“I’m sorry,” she says, unconsciously lifting her knuckles to her lips, concealing the bottom half of her face from him. “Maybe I shouldn’t have done that. You hate me, don’t you? It must have felt… disgusting to you.” 

The word slices through him.

Still stunned, still reeling, he doesn’t speak—doesn’t know how. So when she shifts off his lap and begins to rise, retreating into herself, he moves on instinct, his fingers closing around her wrist before his mind can even think.

“Jinwoo…” Her voice trembles with the urgency to escape. “I—”

He doesn’t let her.

He yanks her down with all the strength he can muster, and she tumbles into his lap with a gasp—her palms landing against his chest just as his mouth crashes into hers.

Jinwoo groans into the kiss, his senses alight, drowning in the taste of her—sweet, intoxicating, laced with the tang of his own blood. The leftover of her toxin still pulsates through his veins, heightening everything. Every stroke of her tongue sends sparks ricocheting through his nerves. Every drag of her nails across his chest makes him shudder. And when she wraps her arms around his neck, pressing their bodies together like she’d vanish if she let go, it leaves his head gyrating, his body tingling with pleasure, and he can’t get enough.

She feels so good. She tastes so good. 

He can feel himself slipping into delirium, and it has less to do with the toxins and more with her kiss. He wants it to last. God, he wants it to never end. But then she pulls back—just a breath between them—and he almost chases her lips before she speaks, her voice a tremor.

“Wait,” she whispers, brows knitted. “I thought you hated me—”

“I do.”

And then his mouth is on hers again, brutal in its hunger.

One hand grips the back of her neck, fingers threading into her hair to keep her right where he needs her, while the other snakes around her waist, his hold firm and demanding. 

“I fucking hate you.” He kisses like he means to consume her very soul. “And I fucking hate this.” His tongue delves into her mouth, tasting her, devouring her, and wanting more, always more.

She laughs softly against his lips, the sound delicate and breathless, coated with the remnants of her moans and the echo of his low, guttural groans. It’s a shared language now—this teasing, this sharp-edged tenderness. She understands exactly what he means. This is how they’ve always danced around each other, barbs disguising desire, sarcasm masking sincerity.

“You think I like this?” she asks in return, her voice honeyed with a hint of impishness. Her lips trail along his jaw, then to his chin, before sliding lower to drag a slow, deliberate stripe up the column of his neck. “You think a princess like me would enjoy kissing a beast like you?”

His grip on her hair tightens instinctively, every nerve in his body lighting up in response. The memory of her fangs, her mouth, her hunger—it still burns in his bloodstream, a delicious ache he never knew he could crave, and fuck, he wants it again. A breathless scoff escapes him, half-laugh, half-moan, eyes dark and heavy with want.

“You’re no fucking princess,” he rasps, trying to sound derisive, but his voice splinters with pleasure and amusement the moment she pulls him back into another kiss.

This time, she leads.

She kisses him with all the experiences she had, teaching him firsthand how to make a woman’s toes curl in pleasure only from the swirl of his tongue.

Her mouth moves with purpose, a rhythm only she knows, and he follows without resistance, helpless to her expertise. It’s different from his wild, urgent heat. She kisses with control, with patience, with wicked precision and it drives him fucking insane.

Her tongue slides against his in a teasing swirl, and Jinwoo moans softly, falling apart beneath her. His hands clutch her tighter, but she’s the one devouring him now—making him tremble from something as simple as the way she sucks and nibbles on his bottom lip.

By the time she finally lets him breathe, he’s slumped against the trunk of the tree, chest rising and falling with ragged breaths, his eyes dazed and unfocused. Still, he can’t stop staring at her mouth—flushed and slick from their kiss—as if it were a miracle he somehow survived.

And maybe he didn’t.

Maybe this is heaven.

She laughs quietly, rubbing her thumb over his lower lip, tugging it down. "Looks like the feral beast has been tamed.” Her cocky grin returns and it’s such a perfect look on her, it restores the passion within him.

“Come here.” Jinwoo’s voice is rough with desire as he grips the back of her dress, dragging her closer with a need that borders on desperation. His mouth collides against hers, hot and consuming, and all he can think about is how close he needs her—how skin against skin still wouldn't be enough. He wants her to feel his warmth. He wants to chase away the frost in her skin and replace it with the fire burning in his own.

His hands find her hips, guiding her to move on his lap, seeking friction that sends sparks flying down his spine.

She lets out a giggle, amused by his desperation, dizzy from his urgency. “Jin, calm down—”

“How the hell am I supposed to stay calm,” he growls, teeth grazing her neck, “when you feel this fucking perfect on me?”

He pushes up against her and she can feel it, the contour of his hardening cock rubbing against her center. She moans as her fingers weave through his hair, pressing herself down and angling her face up to bare more of her neck for him to devour. He takes the invitation with a worshipful sort of hunger, his lips trailing lower until he’s cupping her breast.

“But what about…” A shiver runs through her as his mouth closes around her sensitive peak, sucking. “What about your… Your… God, that feels amazing—”

His chuckle vibrates against her skin, a flicker of satisfaction in his eyes. He’s glad to know he’s not the only one unraveling. Jinwoo suckles harder, his mouth itching to leave marks. “My what? Wounds?”

It’s a wonder that she still manages to form a response when pleasure flutters this intensely in her core. “Y-yeah…”

“I’m fine,” he murmurs back, moving to her other breast with the same deifying intent. “I’m not in pain anymore.”

“But if you—ngh—” she flinches, shuddering beneath his mouth. He’s eager, maybe a little too eager, suckling on her bud with a raw kind of intensity that shows his inexperience. And as much as it thrills her to be his first experience in everything—to teach him all the right ways to pleasure a woman—his recovery is still too fresh, too fragile to ignore.

She bites back a whimper, steadies herself, and gently pushes at his shoulders. Jinwoo growls softly in protest, the sound almost possessive, but he eases off the moment she kisses him—a soft, chaste press of her lips to his calms the burning desire rising in his chest, albeit only momentarily.

“You don’t want to do this?” Jinwoo questions, his voice low and uncertain. The lust is still there, darkening his gaze, but it’s laced with hesitation now, with worry. His hands still hold her in place, but there’s no pressure—only a readiness to let go the second she asks. 

She doesn’t want to reject him. God, every part of her wants—needs to be with him, but somebody needs to be responsible, and she’s not going to repeat the same mistake, not after the last time.

She touches his cheek, smiling softly through the heat and the ache. “I do,” she says, voice gentle but firm. “More than anything.” Her thumb brushes over his skin, a silent form of adoration. “But not when you’re still healing. Not if there’s even the smallest chance it’ll hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me,” he draws her back to him again, silently begging even for a sliver of her touch. “I’m a werewolf, remember? I don’t bruise easily.”

She laughs quietly, shaking her head. “I almost lost you because I couldn’t control my desire before. I don’t want to be reckless and have you bleeding all over the ground from your open wounds just because I can’t wait to have you.”

His expression shifts—equal parts of disappointment and admiration—as he leans into her hand and nods. He understands, but he can’t help the pout that shows on his lips.

“Are you… pouting?”

“No,” he snorts, quickly averting his gaze—and yes, he absolutely is. It’s so adorable, she takes a moment to commit the image to memory.

“I think it’s okay to be a little reckless.” He doesn't give up just yet, his hand sliding up her thigh, inching her dress with it. She slaps it away, playfully chastising him for it, and his pout deepens, somehow becoming even cuter. “What, I’m not allowed to touch you now?”

“You promised you’d behave, Jin.”

“I meant I’d try not to kill you,” he mutters as he hugs her tight, burying his face into her chest and peering up at her with a sulky expression. “I never said anything about not having sex with you.”

“And who said I wanted to have sex with you?” she teases.

Jinwoo pales instantly, and she bursts into laughter, reaching to cradle his face and brush his fringe out of his eyes. “A jest, darling. Of course I want to make love to you.”

“Make lo—” He flushes a brilliant shade of red. “Why do you have to say it like that?” he mumbles in shame, eyes darting away. “It’s embarrassing.”

She gently guides his face back to hers, their foreheads resting together. “Because I don’t want us to just fuck, Jin. I thought I did before, but after everything that happened tonight... After realizing how much you mean to me... I want this to be something more. I want it to mean something. Something special.”

He stares at her, visibly startled—like the words caught him off guard and cracked open something inside. “You want that… with me?”

Her gaze softens. “Oh, Jinwoo,” she whispers, sighing as affection fills her chest. “You don’t honestly think I hated you, do you?”

He doesn’t—not anymore. But for a long time, he wasn’t sure. Maybe “hate” was too strong a word. It was more like… believing they were too different to ever be anything but enemies.

“I don’t hate you,” she continues, her voice warm, grounding him. “I never did.”

His cheeks burn warmer beneath her touch, and his eyes flutter shut as she presses a soft kiss to the center of his brows—a touch so gentle it unravels him. It has been so long since he’d felt this way… welcomed, cherished, loved. And now, here he is, held by the kind of woman who feels like both salvation and sin—his beautiful, sweet little angel with a devil’s grin. In her arms, the world fades away, and for the first time in forever, he isn't just surviving. He's living. And falling for her, in this moment, feels like the greatest privilege of all.

“I… never hated you either," he murmurs, gazing a little sheepishly into her eyes.

“Really?”

“Really.”

“Even though you threatened to kill me every day of the week?”

That draws a chuckle out of him—a quiet, genuine sound that lights her up inside. “You knew I didn’t mean it.”

She smiles, her shoulders easing. “So you really are just bark and no bite, huh?”

“All right. Get off my lap.”

She laughs, leaning in to kiss him again—soft and playful, her smile brushing against his. And he kisses her back, just as sweetly, as though he’s finally allowed to show her everything he’s been too afraid to say.

In this kiss—in this tender, quiet moment—Jinwoo finds the answer to his question.

There are two sides to her: the one she wears like armor when she needs distance, and the one she reveals only when she’s ready to lay herself bare. But he doesn’t need to choose between them. He adores all of her. Her cockiness, her sharp wit, her gentleness, her fire, her strength, her vulnerability. Every bit. And by the look in her eyes—the way she gazes at him like he’s something precious—he knows she must feel the same.

“What?” she asks, tilting her head with a smile. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You’re beautiful, and I like you so much, I think I might be in love with you. “I just remembered how stupid you looked when you were crying earlier.”

She pinches his nose, hard. Jinwoo only grins, unbothered, affection curling in his chest like smoke. The words press against the edge of his tongue, aching to be spoken—but he holds them back. Not yet. Not like this. He wants it to be perfect. Maybe after they make love he can—

Wait.

A-After we make... love?

She glances down. “Why are you getting hard again?”

“I—I’m not,” he sputters, face flushing as her eyes narrow in suspicion. “It’s the drug. The, uh, the toxin thing. Still messing with my body.” Which, technically, is true. But definitely not why he’s pressing up against her thigh.

“Oh, right. You probably still can’t stand, huh?” Her brow furrows with concern. The toxin alone could paralyze an ordinary human. Werewolves, of course, have far better resistance—but… I did drink a lot from him.

“Let me take care of you,” she offers gently, sincerely. “I’ll treat your wounds. I’ll stay with you until you’re all healed. And if you need me to take the pain away again—I promise I won’t take too much this time.”

He tries not to smile. “So you're still planning to drink from me, huh?”

“I mean... maybe just a drop or two?”

He gives her a skeptical look. “Mm-hmm.”

“I’m being honest!” she says defensively. “Your blood just tastes really good, okay? I’ve never had anything like it.”

The way she says it—so earnestly, with that faint blush dusting her cheeks—makes his stomach flip. He clears his throat. “So, um… what happens now?”

“I’m taking you to my place.”

“Your place? Why not mine? It’s close.”

“But don’t you live in a den? That must smell awful.”

“I live in an apartment,” he grits out, offended. She gives him a puckish little grin, obviously enjoying herself. It’s honestly astounding how quickly she can switch from adorable to annoying in a matter of seconds. “And I always keep my place clean.”

“Clean apartment or not, I think I’ll bring you home with me.” Her smile turns sly. “You can be my pet for the next few days, puppy.”

He growls—low and grumbly—but there’s no real menace behind it. “I’m not a damn pet.”

“Oh, you’re right,” she coos. “You’re more like a big, fuzzy stray I took pity on.”

Jinwoo rolls his eyes. “What makes you think I’m going along with whatever twisted plans you have for me?”

“Because vampires are very persuasive,” she says with a sugary smile. “It’s our thing. We compel people to do whatever we want. That’s why you never hear complaints about us on the news.” Her grin turns naughty. “Though with you, I don’t even have to use compulsion. You’re already in love with me.”

He nearly chokes on his breath. It stutters in his chest before he forces it into a scoff, trying to drown out the way his heart just slammed against his ribs. “A-as if I’d fall for a vampire.”

“Wouldn’t it be romantic, though?” she teases, leaning in until their noses almost touch, her grin stretching from ear to ear. “A vampire and a werewolf, born from two ancient bloodlines sworn to hate each other. We’d be like a modern Romeo and Juliet—only sexier and with a lot more blood involved.”

“Shut up.”

"O Romeo, Romeo! wherefore art thou Romeo?" she recites dramatically, clutching her chest like a tragic heroine.

“Shut. up.” he growls, reaching out to pinch her cheek, tugging at it until she squeaks in protest. Still, his lips betray him with a trace of a smile. “One of these days, I swear I’m going to find a way to sew your mouth shut.”

“You can always kiss me to silence me,” she purrs, undeterred, her brows wiggling suggestively. “Or punish me. I accept all forms. If you catch my drift.”

“Christ,” he mutters, dragging a hand down his flushed face. "Is sex the only thing in your mind?"

"You don't think about sex when you're with me?"

Silence.

She snorts out a laugh. "Thought so."

She watches him with amusement, noticing how the tips of his ears glow red despite his attempt to act nonchalant. She resists the growing urge to reach out and scratch behind his ear, just to see if he’d instinctively lean into it. Maybe next time, she muses, biting back a giggle. “You promised you’d be a good boy for me tonight, didn’t you, puppy?”

He tenses, glaring at her through a flushed face. She’s got him—completely at her mercy. Between the haze of the toxin and the way she’s looking at him, he doesn’t stand a chance. Still, he grumbles one last protest, looking away like a sulky teenager. “If you do anything weird, I will rip your throat out.”

“See?” she giggles. “All bark and no bite.”

“Come here, you little—”

***

[cinnamorollcrybaby]

Vampire // Cinna’s Monstertober Writing Challenge

Tags: Vampire!Gojo x fem!reader, gore, nsfw, mdni, blood kink if you squint, masochism, unprotected sex

Synopsis: Creatures lurk in the night. A particular white-haired one takes a liking to you.

An: I’m so excited to start this challenge with you all! I’ve decided to call it Monstertober (there will be one exception to the monster rule LOL srry).

Overpopulation and a deficiency in food had forced your world into an age of evolution. It started off slow as most evolutions do. It started as just one case: the case of Ryomen Sukuna, the first vampire.

He didn't need food to stay alive. No, he was completely immune to aging, and he only craved one thing: blood. It was noted in his case file that he would drink any type of blood, but he had a strong liking towards human blood. One pint of blood, which is a sustainable amount to lose, was enough to satiate Sukuna for a month. However, vampires since then have gotten way more greedy, sucking humans completely dry recklessly.

Then, they started popping up everywhere. Some were bitten, but the "supreme" were the ones who naturally evolved into vampires without being turned by one.

Humans were now not at the top of the food pyramids. For the first time ever, humans were the prey. To help with the overpopulation, the group of the undead proposed a solution.

Cull the herd.

Once every three months, vampires were allowed to hunt humans for sport. Of course, this wasn't the only time they killed or fed off humans. Rogue vampires feasted upon human blood anytime they wanted, but the more civilized vampires waited for the culling to drink from a human.

Bunkering down for the night, you closed yourself into a small closet in the innermost portion of your house. You made sure every door and window was locked, and you prayed to whatever deity was out there that the vampires wouldn't bother you.

They must've not heard your prayers.

You were clutching a wooden stake in your palm as you heard the crashing through your window. Your other hand covered your mouth, trying to mask your breathing. It was no real use though. The vampire could practically smell you from outside your house.

He effortlessly ripped your closet door right off the hinges. His light blue hair was long, and there were stitches all along his body. He admired with with a wild grin and devilish heterochromatic eyes.

"I seem to have found myself a treat!" He claps his hands together, acting as if he just won a claw machine. "Come, darling. You and I both know you're not going to use that stake."

Your entire body trembles as you clasp the stake harder, aiming it at him. "I'll do it!" You cry out, backing yourself further in the corner.

"This is futile. Don't make it harder than it has to be. I'll try not to kill ya." The vampire gives a wide eerie smile, and his sharp pointed fangs were immediately noticeable. You could immediately tell that he was lying straight through his teeth.

You have to do something or else he'll just toy with you like a mouse. You charge straight for him, rearing the stake back to try to stab it through his heart.

"So rude!" He scoffs as he effortlessly grabs your wrist and yanks it above your head. Your arm almost feels like it's going to rip out of your socket.

"Let go of me!" You shriek as you try to yank your arm back, but he was too strong. His hand only tightened around yours, forcing the stake out of your hand. It falls to the ground with a thud.

"You're lucky you're worth the trouble, brat, or I would've already killed you!" He yells, getting more frustrated with your struggling. His head leans near your neck, and you're entire body tenses. Goosebumps rise on your flesh as he takes his time sniffing you. You let out a pathetic cry as you squeeze your eyes shut, bracing for the bite.

This was it.

Before you can even react, your arm is let go, and the sound of crashing catches your attention. Quickly opening your eyes, you see another vampire has the blue-haired one pinned to the wall away from you by his head. The new vampire was much more built than the first one. He had a head of white hair, but you couldn't see his face yet.

Until, he turns to you as his hand crushes the other vampire's head into the wall. It practically explodes like popping a really full tick. Blood and brain matter splatter against your walls.

Your body is completely frozen by fear as you can't help but stare at the new vampire's eyes. His blue eyes beamed in the moonlight, almost glowing in the dark. He's devastatingly handsome with a sculpted jaw and nose. He had long white eyelashes and full lips. He slowly allows his hand to drop, allowing for the vampire's deceased body to slump against the ground.

Small whimpers escape your mouth as you search for any conviction to run. You have to get away from him. If you had little chance of surviving that first vampire, then you had no chance of surviving this one.

He leisurely walks up to you, eyes never leaving yours until he's right in front of you. He then inspects your neck closely. "Are you hurt?" He asks calmly as if he didn't just end someone's life so casually.

"N-no.." Your voice meekly trembles out. Your knees are practically rattling together from fear.

"Do you have a death wish..?" He asks as he leans away from your neck. His eyes are nearly half-lidded as he looked at you with such a bored expression. He then leans down and picks up the wooden stake that you were holding on to.

"No, I-" You go to explain yourself, but he rudely cuts you off.

"Stab me." He instructs while handing the stake back over to you.

Your mind is reeling, unable to comprehend why he would give you permission to use his weakness against him. "What..?"

"I said stab me. If you don't have a death wish, stab me." He repeats as he tucks his arms behind his back, and he even leans his chest out to you.

You look at the wooden stake in your hand, and you look up at the vampire who just killed one of his own to save you? You raise your hand unconvincingly, and you completely clam up.

"You don't have it in your heart, do you?" He asks as he stares at the stake in your hand. "Even when given the permission, you can't find it within you to kill."

Your head drops in shame. If this mysterious vampire wasn't there, you'd be dead from the blue-haired vampire thanks to your noncommittal attack against him.

"Foolish." He clicks his tongue disapprovingly before snatching the stake from your hand and diving it into his own chest.

"Wait-! W-what-?" You shout in a panic, watching as red liquid slowly starts to stain his white shirt. You immediately move to his aid, yanking the stake out of his chest. "Why would you do that? Do you have a death wish?" Your hands press harshly against his chest trying to stop the bleeding.

"Foolish human." He repeats as his other hand comes up and gently pets your head. "Wooden stakes are a myth, sweets. They do nothing to us." He reveals quietly as his large hand continues to softly rub your head. "See for yourself."

Confused, you slowly lift your hands, and you see the wound had already closed. His body had healed it that quickly.

"I don't... Everyone knows that's your weakness.." You pout as you look at his blood along your hands.

"It's a myth that we allow you to believe, so you all continue your futile efforts to stop us." He reveals as he takes your hands and gently cleans them off with a handkerchief that he kept in his pocket.

"Then why tell me...?" You quietly ask, feeling your heart pound in your chest from a mix of nervousness and adrenaline.

"It's not like you have any real intention to kill me." He flashes a smile at you, and he tosses the wooden stake into your fireplace. "You don't want to kill, yet you don't want to die. Are you looking to score a role as a feeder?"

Your body shudders from the idea. Certain vampires kept "feeders", also known as humans who voluntarily offer up their blood for whenever their vampire is hungry. There was mutual benefit for both parties involved. The feeder was practically granted with protection from all vampires, and the vampire no longer had to hunt for food.

"I'm not a farm animal." You retort as you cross your arms over your chest.

"No, perhaps not." He muses as he slowly tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear. "But you're not a fighter either, sweets. Unfortunately, this world wasn't made for people like you." His finger tips delicately stroke your cheek down to your chin, tilting your head to look up at him. "Do yourself a favor and agree to be my feeder. I can't protect you if not."

"What-!?" You shout a bit too loudly, and he gives you a disapproving look.

"I didn't stutter. Be my feeder and live, or stay here and die. Your choice."

You stare at him with a slightly frightened look. Your eyebrows are pinched together, and your lips are in a small pout as your consider his options. He was right. If you stayed behind, you would most certainly die. The only reason another vampire hasn't came to eat you alive is because they can sense his strong aura in your home, warding the others away.

"I... okay, f-fine. I'll be your.... feeder or whatever." You finally mutter out, and he sticks his hand out to you.

"It's a binding vow then. You be my feeder, and I'll protect you from all harm that comes your way." You stare at his hand and take a deep breath. A binding vow that's broken only ends in death, but what choice did you have? Your hand reaches out and shakes his in a defeated matter.

"Great. Glad that's over. Hop on." He immediately instructs as he turns his back towards you. He bends his knees and holds his arms behind him, obviously wanting you to get on his back.

"What-?" You immediately ask, taking a step back from him.

"Well, we aren't staying here, sweets, and I don't know about you, but something tells me that uber drivers aren't going to be out tonight." He sasses as he urges you to get on his back. It was the start of your new life.

As you slowly climb onto his back, his hands hold onto your the backs of your thighs, securing your body to him tightly. Your arms wrap around his neck. "Oh, by the way, I would've protected you for free." He smirks before running a lightspeed away from your home, knocking the breath from your lungs.

*** *** ***

Being Satoru's feeder wasn't all bad. It's been a few months since you two had met during the culling. You've been slowly getting use to living with him.

For one, he's filthy rich, and he has no real use for money. He lives in an entirely too big mansion that's completely paid off. He even has kitchen staff and cleaning staff to take care of the house for him.

For two, he's so... vain and out of touch with reality.

Since he's taken you in, you've learned that Satoru is one of the supreme. His body had naturally evolved in the predator-like state he's in. Though, he claims that he was very strong before evolving as well.

Not only is he a supreme, he's well-known in the vampire community apparently, which you find that hard to believe considering he never leaves his mansion unless it's to attend a night event. You were allowed to leave. It's not like you were his prisoner or anything, but he demanded to be with you no matter where you went to protect you.

You've gathered crumbs of information about him from the kitchen staff and maids, but Satoru was an open book himself as well. He would answer whatever question you proposed, though you couldn't distinguish how much of his answer he was boasting.

The feeding was surprisingly easy to get use to. Satoru rarely fed on you, and when he did, he was extra careful each time. His fangs would sink into your wrist, and he'd drink just enough to get by before promptly releasing you.

He fed at night mostly, which made sense because of his waking hours. He had given you your own chamber in the house when you agreed to be his feeder, and he'd quietly slip into your room at night. By the sixth or seventh time, your body had grown accustomed to his nighttime visits. You'd unconsciously offer up your wrist when you heard the door creak open in your sleep.

Tonight was like any of those nights. Around three in the morning, Satoru quietly slipped into your bedroom. His stomach ached in pain from hunger. He would only drink what he absolutely needed, never quite quenching his thirst for you as he was very cautious with you're well-being. He was practically starving himself.

You were peacefully sleeping in your bed, looking as angelic as ever. He admired your face while you were blissfully unaware. His hand raked through your hair gently, and you stirred just enough to hold your wrist out to him.

If he wasn't so damn hungry, he'd take his time admiring your beauty, but his stomach was grumbling as he stood over your bed. Bending down to your wrist, he took a deep breath of your delicious scent. You probably had no idea that your blood type was rare - the sweetest amongst humans. He got so damn lucky running into you during the culling.

His lips pressed a gentle kiss against the thin skin of your vulnerable wrist. He then pressed another, more sensual kiss into your skin right against the pulse point of your wrist. Feeding was such an intimate act between vampires and consensual feeders, and the fact that you allowed him to do this while you're at your most vulnerable drove him completely mad.

"Sa-toru?" Your voice was a breathy yawn as you must've woken up from his incessant kissing.

"Shhh, sweets. Go back to sleep. I'm just... going to drink a bit.." He whispers softly as he looks up at your sleepy face.

"Drink or make out with my wrist?" You ask with a lazy smile, causing him to chuckle a bit.

"Maybe a bit of both if my feeder allows it." He retorts with a grin before his stomach loudly grumbles.

You sit up slightly as you look at him with a confused gaze. "You must be really hungry." You softly murmur before scooting over in your bed and patting a spot for him. "I'll go back to sleep... just take what you need."

Satoru almost feels like a nervous teenage boy when you invite him into your bed. He doesn't object though, slipping between the sheets next to your warm body. He nearly purrs in contentment. It had been far too long since he had felt warm.

Your body nuzzles into his side, and you gently press your wrist up to his lips. Your eyes had already slipped back closed again.

"Sleepyhead." He muses with a soft smile. His stomach angrily growls at him once more, and he finally decides not to waste anymore time. He flutters his eyes closed, and his fangs pierce through your skin. He's immediately rewarded with the taste of your sweet blood, and he almost instantly feels rejuvenated.

He gently suckles the blood out from your wrist. His hand was idly stroking yours as he drank from you. The air in the room feels so soothing and familiar between the two of you.

He only holds your wrist for few minutes before forcing himself back away from your sweet taste. His tongue gently laps at the the small puncture wounds on your wrist, hoping to soothe the pain slightly. He's still painfully hungry, but he knows he can live off of what little bit he took.

You flutter your eyes open to look at him - having been pretending to sleep so he wouldn't dillydally. "That wasn't nearly enough." You say as you furrow your eyebrows. His stomach growls to only further your suspicions.

"Who are you to tell me what's enough?" Satoru laughs off your concern as he goes to slide out of your bed.

"I'm being serious, Toru." You say as your hand clasps onto his shirt, preventing him from leaving your bed. "Don't think I haven't noticed how sluggish you are recently."

"Who are you calling sluggish? I'm plenty energetic." He argues back as he looks down at you.

"Toru, please. I'm asking you to feed." You pout up at him. "I'm seriously fine. You never ever take a feasible amount."

The sight of you - a human - caring so passionately about him and his needs has his face turning red within seconds. He looks down at your small pout, and he finally relents.

"Only because you said please. Not because I need it or anything like that." He gripes as he gets back comfortable next to you. "Other wrist. That one will be too sore if I bite it again." He instructs, and you offer up your other wrist. However, the positioning is quite uncomfortable to maintain. He'd have to twist your arm to reach your wrist.

"What about my neck..?" You quietly offer, even pulling back your hair to reveal the flesh of your neck. He's almost immediately drooling at the sight.

"The neck hurts worse than the wrists do. Are you sure you want that? It also leaves quite the mark." He informs you, but you've already made up your mind. Your body is turned facing his, and your head is already tilted for him.

"Neck is fine." You answer calmly as you flutter your eyes closed again, trusting him with your life so willingly as if he isn't some monster.

Satoru carefully dips his head down between your shoulder and your jaw, and he once again kisses your skin. It's almost compulsory to do so. A pleasured hum emits from your throat as your hands find his silky white hair.

It's taking every ounce of self control he has not to pounce on you and ravish you in more ways than just one. The primal urges to feed and fuck consume his brain entirely.

He tries to push those thoughts aside as he bites down on your neck. A small moan escapes past your lips, and he can't quite tell if it's a pained or pleasured one. Either way, his dick painfully throbs within the confinements of his clothes.

Maybe it's a placebo, but he swears that your blood is sweeter around your neck. He assumes it has to be because it's closer to your heart. He groans as he sucks the blood from your neck, taking in more substance from you.

The room is filled with small moans and muffled grunts between the two of you. Your neck is incredibly sensitive in the best way possible, making each suckle feel divine from his mouth. Your body shivers in anticipation as you fee your arousal growing - an insatiable heat between your thighs.

Satoru isn't immune either. He can feel your pulse, smell your scent, and hear your pretty moans. He knows the effect he's having on you, and it only works to make him even more horny than he already was.

When your hips start to subtly rock against his body, searching for any friction, all of his self control leaves his body. He immediately moves to pin you down beneath him with his fangs still buried into your neck.

Your hands shamelessly claw at his back through his shirt, and your legs wrap around his waist. Small needy whimpers and whines escape you.

He knows he should stop soon. He's drank almost a pint from you, but his mind is struggling to make his body cooperate. He can't get enough from you. He craves to devour you whole.

"Please.." Your small breathy plea catches his attention as your hips lift up to meet his again, and a new craving takes over his mind.

He pulls from your neck, but he doesn't lap at the bite wounds. Your blood freely trickles down your neck. His breath hitches in his throat as he swears he's never seen anything more erotic in his life.

His hands immediately go to the waist band of your pajama pants as he feels like he's in a frenzy. He can't be bothered to consider the logistics of fucking you and how he might unintentionally hurt you. His brain is only focused on getting his dick into you as quickly as possible.

Ripping off your pants and panties in one solid tug, he throws your discarded clothing onto the floor. "Satoru.." Your small voice whines as you lift your hips up.

"'m gonna take care of you, promise." He mumbles as his one of his hands sink between your thighs and the other works to get his own pants off of him. "Have to prep you first." His pants and boxers hit the ground.

"N-no.." You whimper out, desperate for his length already.

“Yes sweets.” He argues as he settles between your legs. “I’ll hurt you if not.”

“Want you to hurt me..”

“Don’t…” He has to close his eyes to erase the image of you looking down so pitifully, asking him to hurt you. “Don’t say that to me..”

“Please Toru~” You whine as he’s thumb starts to rub gentle circles around your clit. A wet clacking noise filled the room as you were already soaked.

“Such a fuckin’...” He grunts as he gives into your sweet pleas. His hand guides his tip towards your fluttering cunt. “‘m not gonna be able to stop if you let me do this..”

“D-don’t stop.. I want this, please..”

His eyes fixate on your blood stained neck from where he fed on you just moments ago, and he leans his head down to lap up the sweet blood against your skin. “I warned ya.”

Satoru forces his length into your entrance, stretching you out around his size. Your fingernails dig into his back as you let out cries of pain and pleasure. He hurts in just the best way, leaving you wanting more.

“Shit.. feel s’good, sweets.” He moans as he buries himself deeper. Your wet heat slowly envelops him, squeezing around him like a vice. “So fuckin’ wet and tight for me… my good girl.” He purrs as his hips pull back before he sinks into you once again.

“Hah… oh god.. t-too big.” You manage to moan out as you can practically feel your heartbeat in your cunt. The room fills with squelching noises as Satoru rolls his hips slowly at first.

Your gummy walls squishing around him drives him absolutely feral. His caution is out the window as he pummels into you repeatedly. The headboard of your bed smacks harshly against your wall, and your poor mattress wails in agony as he fucks you into it.

“What are you so.. ngh~ .. wet for, huh? Love me using your body, don’t you?” He grunts as his hips snap back and forth. Your eyes start to cross as you swear you can feel him in your throat.

“Y-yes!” You pathetically cry in response. Your back arches up off the bed as you feel yourself already nearing your orgasm. “T-toru-! I.. I think I’m gonna..” You stumble over your words, unable to formulate what you’re trying to say.

“Cum for me, baby. Make a mess on my cock.. ‘s okay.” He slurs into your ear, completely pussy drunk already. In his defense, he hasn’t gotten any in a long, long time.

“Fuuuck~! Ah~ I’m coming..” You cry out to him as your hands grip onto his shoulders. Your toes literally curl your poor cunt clenches around him, juices roll down his cock so leisurely from your arousal.

“Yeeaahh, that’s it.” He purrs as he rides out your orgasm. “Atta girl.”

You slowly start to relax as you come down from your high until you see Satoru’s hands gripping the headboard. “You can take more, can’t you?” He asks in a way where it doesn’t even sound like a question. He’s telling you that you’re gonna take more.

Satoru has to be conscious about how much of his strength he’s using. He’s one small accident away from ripping your headboard off your bed frame.

Still, he uses the headboard as leverage to fuck you harder. “Fuck. C’mere.” He growls as he gathers your thighs and places your legs on his shoulders, putting you in a mating press.

His thrusts don’t relent in the slightest. His heavy balls smack against your plush ass with each stroke. “‘m never letting you go, sweets.” He mumbles as his thrusts start to falter. “… gonna have to pry me away from this pussy. She’s all mine.”

You’re completely blissed out, only able to moan and agree with his delusional ramblings.

“Mine.” He declares again as he rails himself into you. His tip kisses your womb with each harsh thrust. His pleasure starts to coil in his stomach as he’s so close. The headboard completely snaps as he forgets to manage his strength while he’s on the cusp of an orgasm.

Not even stopping for a moment, Satoru leans his head down, and he bites down into your neck again. Your sweet delectable blood coats his teeth and tongue before he pulls away. He bites again and again, completely marking up your neck and shoulders before be spills himself deep inside you. “God… fuck!” He groans as he releases your shoulder.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, he glances down at his seed trickling down from your pretty hole. “You’re makin’ a mess, sweets.” He comments with a lazy smirk before admiring the artwork he created on your neck and shoulders.

You glance up at him with poor needy eyes. Your cheeks are tear stained from the intense pleasure mixed with the bites. His cock twitches pitifully inside you from the sight.

“You can take another round, right? Need to use your cute cunt just a bit more.” Satoru groans as he’s already started fucking his cum back into your hole.

[thewulf]

Little One || Aragorn

Summary: Request -I had an Aragorn request that I wanted to send you; if it’s something you’d be interested in writing I know it’ll be perfect (but if it doesn’t strike your fancy I completely understand)!! After reading your fic with the orc attack I was thinking about how Aragorn would respond to reader being injured defending the hobbits... Read Rest Here

A/N: Thank you for the request @fluentmoviequoter !! Had so much fun writing this, hope you enjoy :) Kinda angsty but hella fluffy as always :)

Pairing: Aragorn x Female Reader

Word Count: 5.1k +

TW: orcs, talks of blood, arrows, getting shot, yelling, angsty

You and Strider had been Rangers together for the better part of fifty years now. The two of you quickly found solace in the other. The two of you just seemed to compliment the other. What he lacked you picked up for him and vice versa. It wasn’t often he could find somebody who just understood him. So, he decided to keep you close but always safe.

He did what he wanted after all. He had a high enough ranking quickly. You were assigned nearly every patrol, raid, quest whatever the hell it was he did it with you. And you learned quicker than you had ever thought even possible with his aid. He wasn’t brutal on you, but he was not easy by any stretch of the imagination. He wanted you alive, so he trained you to stay that way. He had to be a little mean. A little too much sometime. For that was the real world. You couldn’t go out in the world as freely as one once could.

So, when Gandalf proposed the deal of getting the Hobbits from Bree to Rivendell he had agreed on the condition you could come with them. He wasn’t willing to leave you in some random village town in Eriador. No, he would never do that. Gandalf had agreed without a second thought thinking it was a good idea to have two Rangers instead of one.

You had decided fairly quickly that the Nazgûl was on your list of least favorite things in middle-earth you’d had the pleasure of coming across. You could deal with spiders and orcs buts these creatures were eerily different. Ice cold and terrifying, soul sucking. But you needed to remain stoic in the face of it all to help the Hobbits. The poor things were shaking they were so terrified. You’d tried stories of tales far and wide to shake their minds of their troubles, but it seemed no use as they only looked to the two of you in terror around every twist and turn.

When you stopped for the night to camp you’d noticed that Strider had led you deep into a dense forest. You’d never been the best at tracking, so you often led it to him. You really should’ve paid better attention before as you were often so reliant on his talents.

“I am off to gather a few plants for some tea. I will be back in an hour. Y/N, I trust they shall remain safe in your care?” He asked and you nodded without so much as a second thought.

“Of course.” You smiled to him, “Off you go. I know how mean you get without your tea.” That earned a hearty round of laughs from the Hobbit’s as they laid out their bedrolls for the night. It was nice to hear such a pleasant sound instead of hearing the screeching in the distance.

“I will remember that.” He glared at you with humor in his eyes before ducking into the night.

You turned back to the Hobbit’s with a stupid smile on your face not quite realizing how much you were giving way of your likeness towards the man, “Off to bed we go.��� You shooed the silly little smirks right off their faces.

They all nodded quickly falling asleep without so much as a second thought. You were mighty jealous at the way they just did that. It took you far too long to fall asleep these days. Worry kept you up more than you liked to admit.

Thank whatever was out there for that worry that wouldn’t let you sleep as you heard the distant voices and branches breaking far off in the distance. Orcs. Had to be, they were so noisy. Your heartrate spiked as you heard them before you spotted them in the dark night. How in the hell had anything found you all the way out here?

“Up! Up!” You whisper shouted before shaking each of the Hobbits awake, “Abandon the camp we must go. Run” You grabbed for your sword and spare bow and arrow before ushering the small Hobbit’s further into the forest.

They ran ahead confused and disoriented having just fallen into a deep sleep but trusting you nonetheless. You knew you had made too much noise but did not quite realize how much the smaller ones were making as they ran.

You paused for a brief moment knowing your longer strides could catch up. You took a look behind you to see how in danger you truly were. The orcs hadn’t spotted your little group quite yet except one with keen eyes. Adrenaline shot through you as you saw the orcs arrow trained right at the back of Frodo’s head as he ran forward. He’d be dead instantly if the orc shot the arrow before you could stop it.

Panic shot through you as you ran ahead beside him pushing him to the ground with more force than you’d truly meant. You’d thought you were in the clear before the searing pain of being shot by an orc arrow throbbed through your shoulder blade sending you to the ground before you could think. Frodo rolled beside you which sprung Merry, Pippin and Sam into action as they pulled the two of you behind the thick trees of the dense forest. Fortunately for you it was mid-summer, and the forest was coated in dense foliage making it that much harder to find you and the Hobbits hiding in the trees.

Frodo looked more confused than upset before he saw the arrow protruding from your body. He’d understood instantly, “You have been hit miss Y/N!” Merry’s concerned voice only rose a few octaves as he saw the large arrow sticking right outside your shoulder. It hurt worse than it looked but you tried your best to bite back the tears as they were so unseasoned to such horrors in the world.

You looked down wincing at the arrow surely coated in poison. Thankfully you were only a few days out from Rivendell. You’d be fine… Strider not so much. Shuddering at the thought of the man who would be so mad you got hurt, you turned to the small Hobbit’s sitting in fear beside you.

Ignoring the arrow sticking out from your shoulder you sat up from the fall you took, “Listen, for there is not much time before they try and find us. Frodo and Sam run. Go find Strider. He will help end this swiftly.” You nodded watching them run quickly off into the forest. You’d sent Frodo off as he needed to be as far from the attacks as possible.

Wincing you turned yourself as best as you could towards Merry and Pippin, “Now, I need you two to be brave. You must snap this arrow as close to the wound as you can. I will fight these orcs off, but I cannot do that with this sticking out.” You huffed eyeing the rather large wooden arrow searing its mark in your shoulder blade.

Merry only gave you wide eyes as Pippin shook his head answering your request, “I cannot do that.”

“Not can I!” Merry agreed.

You looked behind you a little panicked seeing the orcs moving in closer. Far too close for your comfort. Lowering your voice, you leaned closer to them, “It does not matter any longer. Time is of the essence now. You must or we all die.” You glared at the two of them letting them both know quite how serious this was.

“Aye, turn away.” Merry stood with shaking hands grabbing at the arrow earning a hiss from your mouth. Pippin took his hands in his helping him get the leverage he needed to break the thick wood.

“All right.” You turned your head away clutching your hands into the earth trying to ground yourself. You had to fight back everything that was telling you to pass out as the arrow snapped in two under the hands of the much smaller Hobbits. A quiet whimper left your mouth as you tried your hardest to stay conscious. The orcs were close. You had to do something.

“Miss Y/N” Merry sounded concerned as he saw your face pale out and the orcs move closer, “Please be okay.”

You nodded blinking back the wave of nausea taking over your usually so agile self. This did not feel like your standard orc poison. You knew what that felt like and this was not it. This was moving faster than anything you’d been hit by them with, “I am fine mister Pippin.” You breathed trying to blink back the unshed tears. Pain only reminded you that you were alive. With another small groan you stood from the ground trying your hardest to fight the searing fire in your shoulder, “Stay quiet and hidden. It is best to attack them by surprise. Strider will be back soon. Let us try and wait this out as long as possible.” You whispered grabbing your sword from its sheath at your side.

You waited in silence as the first of the few crept into your field of vision. They must have been lost. No way a pack of orcs were this dumb. Or they were on a special mission. But you could wait no longer as they were likely to hear your breath or any sort of movement for he was a mere step away from you now.

Quickly, you sliced off its head without much of a sound. The loudness of the animals in the night covered up for its lifeless body hitting the ground giving you a second to recuperate and fight back the overwhelming feeling of pain now making its way down your arm.

When you killed the second and third the attention was finally on you. You were not able to be as graceful and let out a cry of pain as you had to use your bum arm to defend yourself. Darting behind a tree you narrowly avoided another arrow coming right for your head this time. But you didn’t have time to panic as the man you had been waiting for finally made his grand entrance. Just as you suspected it was over before it really begun. You were a fine Ranger. But Strider was an expert one.

Leaning back on the tree you let out the breath you were holding in. Never had you been so close to losing someone so quickly on a quest. Never had you been so close to being eliminated. You were usually so much better than this. Strider was getting in your head, and you were losing focus. A Ranger losing focus! That was unheard of. But Strider was your exception it seemed.

“You arrogant fool!” Strider yelled right at you as he came storming over to where you were leaning on the tree. He hadn’t seen the broken arrow in your shoulder nor the way you were holding your arm upright. He didn’t notice the sweat the coated your face or the distant gaze in your eyes. He was mad and he wanted to take it out on someone. That someone happened to be you.

You let out a cry in pain as he grabbed for the arm that you were holding gingerly. Even the smallest movement made it feel like your arm was getting ripped right apart. You had forgotten how painful poison was for it had been nearly fifty years since you’d been struck. The bastards made it as fast and as painful as possible. And whatever this stuff was seemed worse than before.

He moved his hand away from your arm after hearing your strangled cry. Pushing you back up against the tree, avoiding your injury, he felt the sticky liquid coating your outer garments. Blood. Of course, he knew what it was. He had only begun to panic as he saw the deliriousness in your gaze. You were hurt and badly at that. He was not used to this.

Frodo jumped in between the two of you, pushing Strider away just slightly, “She saved my life master Strider! Please have no anger towards her.”

His heart raced as he ordered the Hobbits to light a fire nodding at Frodo that he was done lashing out at you. He knew you needed a helping hand. Not one to hurt you while you were down. Gently, he pushed you down to the ground, “Sit down, nigol.” He’d all but ordered as he helped the Hobbit’s start a small fire. He couldn’t see your wound and you weren’t so forthcoming with information. That and he wanted to see it for himself.

A small smile came to your lips remembering the old nickname he’d given you, “Nigol… you have not called me that in quite some time Strider.”

Brushing your comment aside he asked you, “What happened?” As he sat down next to you waiting for the fire to glow so he could inspect your wound.

You turned towards him holding your eyebrows close together trying your best to bite back the pain, “Orcs happened is all. Caught a poisoned arrow to the shoulder.” Letting out a strangled sigh you sat further back against the tree.

“How did you get hit?” He clarified with more patience in his voice than you were used to. Maybe you looked worse than you felt because he never, ever cut you a break. And you appreciated him for that as you were still alive and usually avoidant of such injuries.

“Ugly bastard was aiming right at Frodo’s small little Hobbit head.” You frowned realizing if you hadn’t noticed Frodo would be sure as dead. You caught Strider’s smile at your crass language for he knew he would never grow tired of your fowl tongue. He loved it about you, “Had to push him out of the way and he nicked me instead.”

“I heard that miss Y/N!” Frodo yelled back at the two of you shaking his head at you, “Elves are not the only creatures with good hearing!” You only smiled as you watched them feed the small fire with more twigs and sticks. It surprised you that Strider ordered a fire for you’d just been ambushed. Who knew what else lurked beyond the trees that kept you hidden.

You let out a strangled laugh feeling the effects of the poison inch its way through your system. You watched as Strider looked at you with concern. It wasn’t often you were the one on the receiving end to such a look. You’d been under his wing for a better part of half a century. You’d gotten really excellent at not getting hurt. It must have been jarring to see you fighting the pain back with such a force. He’d never admit how much he had grown to love you. He didn’t like to see you in pain. Not a bit.

He sighed seeing the fleshy wound, “You must not be so careless next. I have trained you better than that.” He sighed inspecting the wound closely, “I must remove the arrow.” He spoke slowly feeling his heart drop at your startled expression.

You shook your head with a vengeance for you did not like that statement “We are but a few days from Rivendell. Surely they will have healers who can do that properly.”

He bit back the frown as he looked at your arm, “You will not have a few days if I do not get this out.” It wasn’t ominous but simply the truth.

“Is it not an Orc arrow?” You looked down knowing what his answer was going to be but trying to ignore it in your head was proving to be a challenge.

He gave you a solemn nod, “Aye, but it does not appear to be orc poison.”

All you could muster was a simple, “Oh.” Not thinking that was a possibility. You’d still concluded it was a different form of Orc poison. What could they possibly be using?

“It appears to be something much darker.” His frown only deepened as he was studying your wound. He had ripped your shirt where you had been hit to examine it closer. It was turning black far too fast to be the standard orc poison they’d become accustomed to.

You shuddered knowing the pain would be intolerable. You already seemed to be teetering on the precipice between the living world and the unconscious world, “Do your worst then.” You spoke quickly turning away and grabbing at a stick on the ground. When you tuned back he was just looking at you with such a sadness you couldn’t help but to ask, “What?”

He shook his head breaking the stare he had on you, “Nothing. Bite the stick. Don’t fight me. You know the rules.”. It had been a long time since you were at the mercy of his hands. You were but a young Ranger the last time you’d been caught in such a dreadful position. Back then you had medicine to at least dull the pain. This was going to be hell you thought as you placed the soggy stick in your mouth. Something to bite into, crucial to keep you from yelling too loud.

But you didn’t need to worry about that issue too much as darkness took over only a moment after he begun to tug on the broken arrow embedded in your shoulder. Of course, you didn’t catch the concern or the panic that overtook him when he saw you collapse into unconsciousness so easily. He didn’t waste a second longer after the arrow was removed from your shoulder to pick you up and carry you in his arms telling the Hobbits that they had to get a move on for your sake. With hushed complaints the group was off to Rivendell in the dead of night.

It must’ve been the pain overtaking the adrenaline that had subsided that made you fade out of unconsciousness. As your body stirred awake the sun rose in the sky before you. Strider only cradled you closer to his chest when he felt you squirming beneath him. A rather large sigh of relief escaped him as he looked down seeing you slowly blink your eyes back into reality.

“Did you enjoy your rest then?” Strider smiled most genuinely down to you for as much as he loved teasing you it sure made him happy to see you awake once more.

You cracked your own smile at his sarcastic words, “It was nice, thank you for inquiring.” You hummed squirming once more in his embrace. When he locked his hands around you it was only then that you realized he was carrying you like so and he had no intention of letting you out of his grasp.

He chucked seeing your startled expression. It was also new to him too and he really did not want to admit just how much he had enjoyed holding you close to him. It put his normally anxious heart at ease. He had long since found you beautiful. He knew he had loved you when he first heard you speak your mind to a superior all those years ago. For nobody, not a single man, had the courage to speak the way you did. And you had the skill to back it up. That was why he panicked seeing your injured silhouette in the forest. For if you were to go down he had no idea what he would do. You were so deeply embedded in his life he could not even begin to fathom a life without you in it.

He ran faster than he ever had before when Sam and Frodo found him foraging for plants. When they came in blabbering that you had been hit by an arrow he began sprinting in autopilot. It drove him mad feeling like it took longer to get to you. He was there in no longer than a minute to kill the ten or so orcs that were hunting you, the one he loved. He was a maniac when it came to protecting you. He hadn’t meant to yell so harshly at you but he was scared. Terrified of the thought of losing you, his person.

He noticed the pink beginning to return to your face and more relief flooded his overstressed system, “You are getting some color back.” He noticed as he held you closer, “That is a good sign. The poison must not be spreading.”

You let out a long yawn feeling the effects of it all starting to come over you once more, “That is good. It does not hurt as bad either. Just aches a bit.” Your eyes drooped as you tried to fight off the sleep that was overcoming you.

“Rest. Go to sleep, nigol.” He smiled down to you with nothing but love in those striking eyes. He’d been carrying you for hours already, what was another few anyway?

“Nigol.” You hummed remembering the times he called you that all the way back when you first had met him. He refused to tell you what it meant and by the time you finally met an elf you’d forgotten the nickname altogether, “What does it mean?” You inquired hoping he would indulge you this time as you were on the verge of unconsciousness.

He laughed, throwing his head back and all. You admired the way his dark hair framed his fair face as he looked back down at you. He was truly so handsome. It wasn’t fair he was placed in front of you like this and yet, was so unattainable, “I did not tell you fifty years ago, why would I tell you now?”

“I thought I would try.” You sighed, “Does it mean something bad? You only use it when I mess up.” You asked him once you concluded the worst. He often used that nickname early on when you two had been partnered up. It’s use seemed to fade as you had gotten more competent. Yet now when you had a bum shoulder rendering you useless he used it once more.

He shook his head quickly, “It is not bad. I can promise you that.” He eased your worried face quickly with his words.

“Well, I suppose I can accept that.” You didn’t want to push feeling oddly unlike yourself in his arms. Usually combative and wanting to pick a friendly fight you felt like doing anything but that. You just wanted to enjoy yourself in his embrace as you knew this moment would likely never occur again.

He knew you better than anybody else. He noticed how shy you were suddenly acting. Was it the nickname? Were you tired? Was the poison moving faster than he could? He looked down seeing you continue to fight sleep. Usually so powerful you looked helpless in his arms. His eyes softened as he realized how much trust you had to have in him to relax into him like so. You were always on guard, always ready. Frodo was alive because of that instinct. But now you were at his will and he felt more responsible for you than he had ever before.

“It’s Sindarin.” He admitted wanting to give you something more as you had given him exactly what he wanted, you.

Feeling your eyes getting heavier you replied with tiredness in your voice, “I had concluded that Strider. You did tell me you were raised by elves, remember?” Lazily, you smiled up to him laughing as best as your body would allow you.

“It is Sindarin for little one.” He finally admitted to you, “Or mouse.” He looked down at you nervously hoping you’d have a decent reaction to it.

“Mouse? Little one? I should be offended.” You grinned not taking offense in the slightest for you found it oddly adorable he had given you such a sweet nickname.

“Do not take offense.” He spoke quickly, “I did not mean it that way.”

“Relax, Strider.” You yawned once more feeling your head rest of his chest heavily. Sleep was coming on quick, “I am just teasing you. You are so easy to mess with.”

“Sleep now, little one.” He gave you another gentle squeeze letting you know he had you. It was alright. You could trust him as always. And trust him you did as you found yourself in a quick sleep right back in his arms.

“There you are.” Strider’s voice pulled you from the sleep that had overcome you on the road. When you blinked you were stunned to be laying in front of a fireplace in a rather grandeur room. You must have made it all the way to Rivendell which meant you had been out for days at this point.

“Are we in Rivendell?” You tried to sit up before his hands pushed you back down, gently, into the plush elven bed.

“You must lie still.” He ordered before answering your question, “Yes. You have been unconscious for nearly four days. Lord Elrond was unsure if you were to make it.” His eyes were laced with something you had hardly seen on the man in your many years of knowing him, fear. He looked scared, terrified. Yet almost relieved seeing you awake.

“Four days?” You swallowed back your surprise.

He gave you a quick not, “Almost, you even have Lord Elrond worried.”

You sighed, “I did not mean to do that.”

He moved closer, sitting on your bedside. Taking his chance he brushed your stray hair away from your face, “You always do that.”

You just looked up at him, “What?”

“It is just that you always care for others before yourself. As much as I love that about you. Think about yourself for once. Care for yourself. You are far too kind.” He spilled his thoughts to you for he was too tired. Too scared at the thought of losing you he was not going to hold back his tongue anymore for he knew he loved you. He wanted you. He couldn’t see you with anyone else but him.

You blinked back surprise at his outright confession. Sure, the two of you had danced around any feelings for quite literally years. But you would have none of that, as sweet as it was, “You did not say that when I slayed half an orc army with you.” You spoke with a hint of playfulness in your tone. It was your favorite game to play with the man.

He laughed a full hearty laugh. A laugh so pure, one you’d heard so rarely from the man. He only laughed like that when he was at peace. Happy. Comfortable and relaxed. A sight that you could really get used to.

“For that is true.” His eyes searched your for any sign of pain. Any sign that something was wrong. He could not quite believe you were finally awake and chatting with him like nothing had happened. Like you hadn’t been knocked out cold for that long. When Lord Elrond had started to get nervous. Strider was not dumb. He grew up with Elves and knew their tells. When an elf grew worried he knew things were not boding well.

You felt yourself shrinking under his gaze, “What? Is there something on my face? Because that would be embarrassing. I have been asleep for three days and you let something stay on my face for that long?” You rambled not quite sure what you were doing. He was making you nervous. Strider never made you nervous. But when he gave you that earnest look you completely lost yourself to him. How fickle your brain was behaving.

He bit back a laugh sensing your nerves, “No. There is nothing marking your face. I was simply admiring you was all.”

Was he trying to kill you? Your cheeks were sure to be a bright rosy, red for his second confession was bolder than his first, “Admiring me?”

“Indeed. I would not be the man that I am had you not been by me all these years. I thought I was going to lose you. But now that you are back I get to admire you.” He spoke with that soft voice he only used ever so often. It was fascinating to get to know an entirely different side of the man you thought you knew through and through.

“I deserve no such thing.” You laughed trying to shake off the seriousness of his gaze down on you. He did not find your statement the least bit humorous.

“While I do not agree I also do not wish to argue. How do you feel?” He changed the subject even though he might have enjoyed watching you squirm. Placing a cool hand on your forehead, he did not miss the small jump you had in response to his contact. Touches he had given you so often before had changed. Things had shifted between the two of you and for the first time in a long time he was excited. He had a purpose. His purpose.

You gulped back your argument and nodded in agreement, “I feel fine, will you let me sit up now or must I stare up all afternoon?” You quipped hoping your quick mouth would let him know just how fine you really felt.

Shaking his head, he held out a hand for your to take, “You may sit up, but take it slow.”

“I was shot by an arrow Strider. I did not get my legs cut off.” You took his hand letting him pull you up to sit next to him.

He rolled his eyes yet still held admiration in them, “That mouth will get you in trouble one day.” His eyes traced your face as you too just looked at him. It didn’t feel quite real that he could have admired you just as you him. Had you been blind?

You hummed in agreement not being able to take your eyes off his, “Not if you are there to protect me.”

It was he who broke the staring game going on between the two of you as he collected his thoughts, “Indeed, little one. There is nothing truer than that statement.” Gaining some courage, he took your hands in his giving them a gentle squeeze, “Please never scare me like that again for I cannot bear it.”

“I will try my hardest, as long as you promise to do the same.” You nodded towards him feeling bashful in front of the man you’d grown to love. The man you had only hoped to love you as he did. The man you never could have imagined felt the same. Yet here you were.

Giving your hands a reassuring squeeze, he simply nodded to you, “I promise, little one. I promise with my whole heart.”

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[lanalace]

Our Last Hunt - Part 3

Yandere Caleb x Reader

[Chapter - 1] [Chapter - 2]

Summary: Y/n made a mistake that changed her life forever. Once a fearless hunter of blood-sucking fiends, she is now becoming the very thing she once swore to kill. How can she live with herself? And how will her immortal brother—the one who raised her, trained her, and protected her react when he discovers she’s turning into a creature of the night?

Warnings: Manipulation, Murder, Dubious Consent, NSFW, Psedo-incest, Smut, Dead Dove Do Not Eat 🔞

Word Count: 7.6k🍏🍎

Caleb had been watching her for hours.

She lay curled in bed, softly breathing, the soft rise and fall of her chest the only sign she hadn’t already slipped from his world. Moonlight painted her in silver-blue through the window, and in that light, she looked like something too fragile for war, too soft for the stains she bore.

A phantom vibration still resonated in Caleb's bones from the lie he’d woven into her phone, a fabricated distress call that had tugged at her eager hunter’s spirit. He’d known she was itching for a solitary kill, desperate to prove her mettle. His enhanced hearing had tracked her silent descent from the window, the almost imperceptible rustle of fabric against brick, the soft thud of her landing. He followed soundlessly, keeping to the rooftops, a phantom in the dark. She never once looked back. Never sensed him.

The coordinates led to a desolate abandoned warehouse lot. Though visibly on guard, her small form radiating a fierce determination he both admired and resented, she’d drawn a polished wooden stake and a glinting silver knife, the moonlight catching the sharp edges as she prepared to face a phantom threat. She was ready for anything.

Except him

She moved in slow circles, scanning shadows, muscles taut with anticipation. Finding nothing, she scoped out the surrounding area, eventually entering an alleyway, the air thick with the cloying stench of damp refuse and something else, a metallic tang that hinted at past violence. 

She moved with a cautious grace he’d personally instilled, her senses scanning the shadowed corners, the overflowing dumpsters. The alley remained stubbornly empty. He felt a pang of guilt, quickly suppressed. Sheathed her weapons with a soft click of leather against metal, she retrieved her phone, the screen’s pale light illuminating her focused brow as she re-checked the nonexistent coordinates.

That’s when he moved, descending for the building above her as the rough asphalt barely whispered beneath his weight. Her instincts were sharp. He relished the almost imperceptible stiffening of her spine, the sudden stillness that broadcasted her awareness of a presence behind her. 

A delicious chill, born of instinctual fear, prickled the air around her. She whirled with a speed he’d trained into her, a roundhouse kick aimed with lethal precision at where she sensed the threat.

To her utter surprise, not only was her swift leg caught mid-air, the delicate bones surprisingly fragile in his grasp, but it was caught by him.

“Gege…?” The shock in her voice was a raw, wounded sound, quickly bleeding into shame as his cold, unwavering gaze settled upon her. Her violet eyes, usually so bright with life, now clouded with confusion and a dawning horror.

“What exactly are you doing out here, meimei?” His voice was low, dangerously controlled with a sharp edge of disapproval. 

He held her leg in a grip that could easily crush bone, a silent reminder of the power she so carelessly disregarded. Caleb released her abruptly, the sudden freedom making her stumble. She hung her head, the moonlight catching the strands of her dark hair, unable to meet his piercing gaze. 

“I… uh…” Her words caught in her throat, a pathetic stammer as she tried to find a believable lie. Instead, she sighed in defeat and told the truth. “I was hunting a nest…”

“By yourself?” The question was a low, furious hiss. 

“Do you have any idea how incredibly dangerous that is? How recklessly foolish it is for a single human to take on a nest, alone?!” He forced his voice down, the quiet fury more terrifying than any shout. She flinched visibly at his harsh tone, her small shoulders hunching. Rarely did he raise his voice, and never at her.

“I’ve taught you better than that, y/n. You don’t charge into a nest solo. Why are you being so willfully ignorant?” His brows furrowed, his gaze scrutinizing her small, vulnerable figure. She trembled visibly, tears pricking the corners of her eyes, blurring the harsh edges of the alley.

“I’m sorry… gege.” Her voice was a choked whisper, punctuated by a pathetic sniffle. “I just—sniffle— I just wanted you to be proud of me.” She fought back the tears, her lower lip trembling. 

“I just wanted to show you that I can handle myself.” A fleeting warmth touched his cold features at her vulnerability. “That I don’t need you to protect me anymore.”

The warmth vanished as quickly as it came, his body hardening, becoming rigid with a chilling resolve. The fleeting tenderness in his eyes melted away, replaced by a cold, unfeeling look of disdain that pierced her fragile hope.

“You don’t need me anymore? Is that what you truly believe, little one?” His voice, once familiar and comforting, now dripped with a sweet, venomous undertone that made her skin crawl. He grabbed her arms, his fingers digging into the soft flesh, a possessive grip that stole her breath. 

Y/n gasped, her glassy eyes widening in alarm as she looked up at his suddenly alien gaze, her mouth opening in a silent plea, ready to explain her foolish desire.

“Alright then, what exactly do you think you need?” He said through clenched teeth, the subtle tremor in his hands betraying the storm raging within him. “Go on then, little hunter. You can tell me everything.”

Her bottom lip trembled violently as she stared into his unfamiliar, glacial gaze. The words she’d so desperately wanted to speak now withered on her tongue, leaving her mute with a growing dread. Caleb leaned down, his face inches from hers, close enough that she could feel the ghost of his cool breath on her cheek, carrying the scent of ancient power and something darker, something possessive. 

“You see, meimei, you’ve allowed yourself to believe you don’t need me because I’ve been… lenient. You thought you could leave me behind—outgrow me. But you belong to me, Y/n. I shouldn’t have allowed you to become so strong— so independent.” 

One hand, its grip tightening almost imperceptibly, trailed up her arm, across her shoulder, the back of his knuckles brushing along the delicate curve of her neck until he was cradling her face, his thumb pressing against the frantic pulse point beneath her ear. 

“But that ends tonight.” His fingers squeezed her jaw, hard enough to bruise the delicate bone, and she whimpered, a small, terrified sound. “After tonight, you’ll never be able to not need me. I’ll be your only solace, your only anchor. You’ll depend on me for your very sanity.” He promised.

“Wh-what do you—“ she gasped, a strangled sound as he pulled her body flush against his, the hard muscles of his chest pressing against her softer own, his arm wrapping around her waist in a possessive embrace that stole her breath.

Using the hand that cradled her jaw, he tilted her head to the side, his gaze dropping hungrily to the smooth, vulnerable column of her neck, his nostrils flaring as he inhaled her scent, a heady mix of fear and innocent sweetness. Before she could utter a coherent word, Caleb’s head snapped back, his mouth opening, his elongated fangs glistening in the dim moonlight, sharp as he sunk them deep into the delicate skin of her neck.

Y/n’s eyes widened in absolute horror, a muffled scream trapped behind his suffocating palm that clamped over her mouth. All she could feel was the searing, agonizing pain, the shocking betrayal that ripped through her, and the horrifying sensation of something sharp and alien piercing her flesh. She writhed in his arms, her nails digging into his pecs, her tears soaking into his palm. 

Caleb, on the other hand, let out a low, guttural moan of pure pleasure, a sound that vibrated against her muffled cries. He was intoxicated by the taste—by the claim. Her life’s blood surged into his mouth, a taste that ignited a primal fire within him.

He hoisted her up effortlessly, wrapping her legs around his waist, pressing her intimately against his hardening member, the immediate arousal was a brutal testament to the potent power of her blood had on him. Her life force flooded his senses, filling his veins with an electrifying energy, claiming every part of him. His arousal throbbed painfully against his pants, the scent of her body—fear, shame, arousal—an elixir he could never replicate. He was so utterly captivated by the taste of her, the intoxicating rush, that he almost missed the soft, whimpering sound that escaped her lips. 

Almost.

Y/n’s body went limp for a horrifying few seconds after his teeth sank into her neck, then a strange heat bloomed within her, a sensation so intensely pleasurable it momentarily eclipsed the pain. Her mind swam in a hazy fog, all coherent thought dissolving into pure sensation. All she could feel was him – the hard press of his body against hers, the low moans that vibrated through her, and the insistent pull at her neck that made her legs involuntarily tighten around his waist.

A high-pitched whine escaped her lips, a sound of mingled pain and a terrifying, unwanted pleasure. Soft pants followed, and more quiet whimpers, sounds of pleasure meant only for Caleb’s ears. It made him so incredibly hard, a painful throb that demanded release. He wanted to claim her fully, right there in the grimy alley, to brand her as his in every way.

With a monumental effort, he restrained the primal urge. He had a goal in mind and he would not be dissuaded by the alluring call of her body. His only focus now was draining her completely, ensuring her dependence. His free hand slipped possessively around the back of her neck, his fingers tangling in her hair, the other pressed against her lower back, arching her closer as he felt her body grow more and more lax, her struggles fading.

“Ge…ge…please. Don’t— don’t do this.”

He heard her call out to him weakly, her voice barely a whisper. So small. So broken and in that moment, a sharp pang of something akin to remorse pierced through the intoxicating haze. He almost let her go, the tragic sound tearing at something deep within him. He couldn’t bear to hear her so weak, so vulnerable. It caused him a fleeting moment of distress, enough to make him stop drinking for a split second. 

His hand on her back began to move in slow, circular motions, a pathetic attempt to soothe her as he continued to take from her. It was his twisted way of saying sorry. He couldn’t stop. Not when she was finally going to be his. Not when he was this close.

“I’m sorry.” he whispered against her pulse, circling his hand along her back as she slackened in his arms. “I have to. This is the only way you’ll stay.”

When she was almost completely drained, her body sagging against his, her skin pale and clammy, her heartbeat a faint flutter against his chest, he finally pulled away. His eyes were completely blown, the violet irises swallowed by the black of his pupils, his breath coming in ragged gasps as her limp form rested heavily in his arms.

Caleb lowered himself to the dirty alley floor, his movements surprisingly gentle as he placed her down, cradling her head as if she were a fragile doll. He looked at her still form with troubled eyes, a sheen of unshed tears blurring his vision at her near-death appearance. She looked like a fallen angel— ruined by his love.

Y/n lay there with her eyelids half-closed, her breathing shallow and barely perceptible. She looked as if she wanted to speak, her lips twitching slightly, but she lacked the strength to utter a single word. Caleb offered her a sad, almost regretful smile, leaning down to press his forehead against hers, a silent apology, before nuzzling her hair slightly. When he pulled back, he made sure her unfocused gaze was on him.

“You fought well, little hunter. You took down eight vampires by yourself. But due to your human limitations, you failed to protect yourself from the last one. You were exhausted, the battle was long. As you went in for the final kill, you were blindsided, knocked down, and bitten. Just before you passed out, you managed to stake it. Now, you are going to drift off, and you will forget that I was ever here tonight.” 

His pupils constricted and dilated rapidly as he compelled her, his voice a soft, hypnotic murmur. A single tear escaped her eye, tracing a lonely path down her pale cheek before her eyelids slipped shut, her breathing evening out into a semblance of peaceful sleep.

A heavy sigh escaped his lips, his hand caressing her cooling cheek with a possessive tenderness. He took a shaky breath, the scent of her blood still clinging to him, before using his fingers to gently pry open her slack jaw. Caleb raised his wrist, just above her parted lips, and with a sharp flick of his wrist, slit his own skin, letting his dark, potent blood rush into her mouth. 

He used his other hand to gently massage her throat, ensuring she swallowed the life-giving liquid. Once he was satisfied, he licked the wound on his arm, the skin knitting back together instantly, then used the back of his hand to wipe his own blood from her mouth, a final, possessive touch.

Just as he was about to stand, a new scent drifted into the alleyway, acrid and hungry. A vampire. Its eyes glistened with predatory hunger in the dim light. ‘He must have smelled her blood.’ A strange, dark satisfaction bloomed within Caleb. He welcomed the intrusion, a desperate need to unleash the turmoil within him, a violence he couldn’t direct at himself. The vampire lunged, a blur of unnatural speed, but Caleb was faster, his reflexes honed over centuries.

He caught the skinny vampire by its throat, the fragile bones cracking audibly beneath his grip, and glared down at the struggling creature with cold, incandescent fury. 

“As much as I would relish the opportunity to torture you, to take out my… frustrations… on your pathetic existence, I need your blood more.” 

His voice was deceptively calm, a stark contrast to the rage simmering beneath. The vampire cursed and clawed at his hand, its eyes wide with terror, but Caleb paid it no mind. Raising its emaciated body over his unconscious sister, he bared its throat with a swift, brutal movement, allowing its dark, tainted blood to spill onto her pale clothing and skin, a grotesque baptism.

Once he was satisfied, a dark ritual completed, he plunged his other hand into the vampire’s chest, ripping out its still-beating heart, the black liquid staining his fingers. He held the grotesque organ before its horrified eyes before crushing it mercilessly. The vampire arched in a silent scream of agony before bursting into violent flames, its desiccated body crumbling into ashes against the brick wall.

Caleb wiped his hands clean of the vampire’s filthy blood on its burning remains before crouching down, his gaze softening as he observed his peacefully sleeping sister. He would stand guard, a silent sentinel, until she woke, ensuring no other predators dared approach his claim.

It took a mere ten minutes, an eternity in his heightened perception, before he saw the first signs of life. Her fingers twitched, small, involuntary movements, and then her eyelids fluttered, delicate as butterfly wings, though they did not yet open. Caleb released a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding, the tension slowly easing from his rigid frame.

Satisfied that his claim had taken hold, he leaped to the rooftop with a silent grace, melting into the shadows, and watched her as she finally woke, her eyes widening with confusion and a lingering sense of unease. When he saw her stand on shaky legs, her movements disoriented, and head in the direction of their home, he moved with supernatural speed. Traveling by rooftop, a blur of motion against the dark sky, he made it to their house in a mere two minutes.

Slipping silently into the bathroom, he meticulously fixed his disheveled appearance, the wind having tousled his dark hair. He changed his clothes and washed his hands, cleansing himself of the remaining traces of vampire blood. 

As if nothing happened, he Walked into the kitchen and began to cook. He needed his alibi to be perfectly prepared, a comforting normalcy to greet her when she inevitably stumbled through the front door, her memories carefully rewritten. Pulling out the ingredients for one of her favorite meals, the familiar scents filling the quiet house as waited for her to come crashing back into his carefully controlled world.

🍎🍏

Y/n bolted upright in bed, a strangled gasp tearing from her throat, her heart hammering against her ribs with a frantic, terrified rhythm that echoed the phantom pain in her thigh. The dream... no, the memory... clung to her like a suffocating shroud, the metallic tang of blood and the sickeningly sweet scent of his arousal still vivid in her senses. It was a visceral imprint, a violation that refused to fade.

Y/n's consciousness returned in a slow, syrupy haze, her body alight with a pleasure so thick it bordered on pain. The first thing she registered was the wet heat between her thighs-the slow, deliberate suck of lips against her inner thigh, the sharp sting of fangs buried deep in her flesh.

Her back arched forward, a ragged moan tearing from her throat before she could stop it.

“Mmmm… ah!~”

A chilling silence, broken only by a wet, disturbingly intimate sound – the slick suction of lips on flesh.

It wasn’t a nightmare conjured by a fevered mind. It was real, etched into her very being with agonizing clarity.

Her thigh screamed in protest, a deep, pulsing throb that bloomed with sickening intensity with every slow, deliberate draw of Caleb’s possessive mouth. He was a dark, predatory shadow wrapped around her hip, one hand a brutal brand on her lower stomach, holding her captive while the other cradled her thigh open with a horrifying tenderness, as though she were a delicate offering, a chalice to be reverently defiled.

Her hands flew to Caleb's hair, fingers tangling in the dark strands, caught between yanking him away and pulling him closer. The bond between them thrummed like a live wire, amplifying every sensation-the searing pleasure of his mouth on her skin, the icy horror clawing up her spine as the memories flooded back.

His fangs, sharp and cruelly efficient, were still buried deep within her flesh, a living tether binding them together.

The heat of his mouth was unbearable, a silken inferno against her skin, each insistent pull coaxing her traitorous body to betray her further, igniting a terrifying pleasure amidst the horror. A low, guttural purr, a sound of pure, animalistic satisfaction, trembled from his chest, vibrating against her skin like a dark promise. 

Her blood, her very life force, ran slick and warm down his jaw, glistening crimson along the strong, possessive line of his throat. He was savoring her, claiming her with every agonizingly slow movement.

And her body—weak, languid, utterly compromised—trembled beneath him, a horrifying symphony of unwanted sensation.

“C… Caleb… stop…” she whispered, her voice a broken, breathless rasp.

He didn’t stop, lost in the intoxicating act of claiming her.

Didn’t hear her desperate plea, his senses overwhelmed by the taste and feel of her altered blood.

His tongue swept lazily across the raw punctures, sealing nothing, teasing everything, igniting a fresh wave of unwanted sensation. Her blood—no longer purely hers, now tainted and bonded—was like wildfire to him, a potent elixir that fueled his possessive hunger. The irreversible change had completed, and she could feel the insidious tendrils of their connection, no longer trembling with potential but singing with a terrifying, absolute ownership.

He moaned, a soft, broken sound that bordered on pain, as if she were the one devouring him, stealing his very essence.

“Caleb,” she tried again, her voice cracking with rising hysteria, louder this time, forcing her shaking hand to press against the slick, blood-warmed skin of his shoulder. “Please!”

He lifted his head slowly, his breath coming in shallow, ragged pants, his chest heaving against hers. Her blood, thick and viscous, dripped down his chin, painting his lips a horrifying crimson. His pupils were blown wide, the violet of his irises swallowed by the encroaching black, his eyes gleaming with an unholy light as he stared at her, his expression bordering on religious fervor.

Worship. Possession.

“You taste different today— like fire,” he murmured, his voice thick with a possessive awe. Richer. Darker. A taste so perfect it bordered on sacrilege.

“So sweet. Wild. No one compares. Every note, every drop, it’s like you were tailored to sate the deepest craving I never even knew how to name. You were always meant for me, my precious meimei.” He murmured against her skin before diving back into her open wound. Every swallow sent liquid fire through his veins, his cock aching against the confines of his pants, desperate to claim her all over again.

She slapped at his shoulders, nails raking down his back. "Get off! You’re disgusting!"

A growl rumbled in his chest as he narrowed his eyes in annoyance. Caleb looked up through his lashes, pinning her with his glare, mouth still latched to her skin. He sucked once more, slowly as he watched her flushed face. His free hand slid between her trembling thighs, finger slipping through her slick folds with ease. 

"Liar." he shot back, pushing another finger inside her to the knuckle in one brutal thrust, pulling a sweet sound from her lips. "You're already so wet for me." he murmured against her skin, voice rough with hunger. 

"You don’t want me to stop, I can feel it." And he could. He could feel the ache through the sire bond. Her resistance was being consumed by her desperate need for him.

His fingers pushed inside, curling just right, just the way she liked and she arched off the bed with a broken moan, her blood still spilling into his mouth. 

“Gege… Don’t!” Her voice broke, her hips bucking against his hand as the pleasure built, unrelenting, unforgiving.

Caleb growled, the vibration against her skin sending another shock of heat through her. “Don’t do what, y/n? Don’t taste you or don’t fuck you like I did last night?” He said as he scissored her insides, stretching, preparing her for the possibility.

She whimpered, her drooling pussy swallowing his fingers so easily as he pumped his digits into her at a hurried pace. He could feel the way she squeezed him, her gummy walls tightening around him like a pulse, signaling her approaching orgasm. 

‘Gonna cum, already?’ He smirked at her. 

"You didn't mean that, right?" His thumb circled her clit, relentless and he swore she came a little. Her pussy was soaked, the lewd sounds of her drenched core enveloped the room, along with her shameless moans. 

She didn’t mean it. Not really. How could she with all the evidence of her body’s betrayal stacked against her.

The bond between them was wide open now, her shame, her anger, her desire— all laid bare for him as he continued to fuck her cunt on his fingers brutally. 

Y/n came with a broken cry, her body clenching around his fingers, her blood spilling into his mouth as he drank her down like a man starved. Caleb released her, opting to watch her pretty contort with pleasure as his finger piston into her, helping her ride out her orgasm. She squealed, shaking violently as her little hole milked his fingers as if it were his cock. 

“Fuck… so beautiful.” He whispered praises, licking his lips in carnal hunger, catching the last beads of blood that escaped his lips. He wanted to taste her honey this time, test it against her blood to see if it had also changed.

Y/n came down from her high quickly, her strength surged, adrenaline-fueled burst, just long enough to deliver a firm slap, hard across the face, the sound echoing in the blood-soaked silence.

He didn’t react to the blow. The sharp crack of her hand against his cheek reverberated through the room, but he only blinked slowly, his head tilting slightly, as if the pain didn’t register, as if the only sensation that mattered was her touch, however violent it was.

"The alley." she choked out, tears welling in her eyes, blurring his concerned expression. "The warehouse... the bite... y-you lied to me.” she choked, her voice raw with betrayal, trying to scramble away, to put distance between them. “You compelled me to forget… the entire mission, all of it was a lie.”

But her legs wouldn’t obey, her limbs heavy and unresponsive. He’d taken a significant amount of blood from her and she finds that she feels weaker than she ever did when she was human. Understanding dawned in his violet eyes, a chilling realization that left no room for doubt. 

"You finally remembered." he sounded almost happy. The small quirk of his lips stood as a confession. “I guess when I sealed the sire bond last night, it broke the compulsion.”

Her body sagged, trembling uncontrollably, breath catching in a ragged sob. “I remember everything! You— it was you who turned me into this… you turned me into a monster!” His smile was slow, a soft, possessive curve of his bloodied lips.

“You think you became a monster the night I bit you?” he asked gently, his voice almost tender, laced with a disturbing affection. 

“No, meimei. You became mine.”

“You used me. You manipulated me…”

“No.” His voice deepened, a low, resonant rumble of velvet and smoke that seemed to coil around her. “I loved you. I love you. This was the only way.”

“Only way to what?! You murdered me!”

“I gave you eternity. It was the only way to keep you by my side.”

He rose from the bed with a fluid, unnatural grace, the sheets rustling with the movement, licking her slick from his fingers slowly with a satisfied moan. She shrank away instinctively, clutching the bloodied sheets to her chest as her body throbbed with a hollow weakness.

“I hate you…” she said so low that a normal person would have struggled to hear. But he was anything but normal and despite his unbrothered appearance, those words stabbed at his heart. 

"You don’t. You want to know the worst part, meimei?" His thumb brushed her lower lip, smearing her own blood across it. "You could've fought the bond... if you'd truly hated me."

“A sire bond doesn’t create feelings, it amplifies it. It wouldn’t have affected you if there were no feelings there to begin with, little one.” he said quietly, his gaze intense. “If you didn’t find me attractive, on some deep, primal level… if you didn’t love me, more than you should have ever loved a brother… this would never have worked. Our connection is too strong.”

She scoffed, knowing his words to be true but disbelief clouded her mind.

“A part of you craved me, Y/n.” Caleb continued, his voice a hypnotic murmur. 

“I made sure of it. All these years, I stayed close, a constant presence. Loved and protected you. Coveted you with every fiber of my being. Because I needed you to need me, truly need me. To love me, beyond the bounds of sibling affection. Human minds are so fragile, so easily swayed. And sometimes love gets… confusing. Hard to differentiate. But I only needed you to think of me as more than just a brother. Just once. And then I’d have you, forever.”

“But I never did!” Y/n shouted, her voice raw and hoarse with disbelief and rising panic. “You’re delusional! You’ve twisted everything!”

“But you did, sweet girl.” He spoke with confidence as  knelt at the edge of the bloodied bed, his eyes level with hers, his gaze unwavering. “I knew exactly when it happened, too. The first time you acknowledged it.”

She glared at him, eyes narrowed as she waited for his silly revelation. 

“It was when we were teenagers.” he said, a faint, knowing smile playing on his lips. “You were so used to my undivided attention, my constant presence, that when other girls started to notice me, to flirt… you nearly beat them senseless. Remember that? You dragged me away the second they got too close, your small hand a surprisingly fierce grip on my arm. You wouldn’t speak to me for days, a furious silence that only I could break.”

Her face twisted in horror, the memory surfacing, finally dawning on her yet still, she denied it. “I was a child! I didn’t want to share my favorite person. It doesn’t mean I had… feelings. I was just a spoiled brat!”

“And who do you think spoiled you, little one?” he asked softly, his gaze intense. 

“Who isolated you, subtly steering you away from others? Who gave you more attention than any sibling should, whispering reassurances until my presence was the only constant you could truly rely on?”

Her breath hitched, the realization dawning with chilling clarity.

“Should I tell you more? Before you even knew the depths of my powers, when gran left us home alone. You thought I was asleep...”

Y/n face scrunched in confusion, wondering where this story was going.

“I heard you that night— touching yourself to the thought of me. You even whispered my name so sweetly into your pillow that I almost broke down your bedroom door and took you right there.”

Her jaw dropped, hands flying to cover her mouth as she recalled that moment. How disgusted she was with herself back then when she came to the thought of her brother touching her inappropriately. She’d buried that memory. Locking it away to the point that she didn’t even remember until he brought it up. 

“No… no…” she whispered, shaking her head vehemently, tears streaming down her pale cheeks.

Her face flared up, blushing furiously with embarrassment and she looked away from Caleb’s all too amused eyes.

“Sweet meimei…” He leaned forward, his touch feather-light as he brushed a stray strand of blood-soaked hair from her face, turning her back to face him. “Don’t be embarrassed. Its ok. I was so happy you liked me that much.” 

“That’s the moment I knew you were mine. You were so easy to guide after that. So desperate for my affection even when you tried to keep your distance. But I… I was even more desperate for you. Your human love had limits, boundaries you tied yourself to that I couldn’t abide by. I needed to shatter them, to make you mine in every way.”

“So you turned me…” she whispered, her voice cracking, raw with grief and betrayal. “You took my life from me. You took everything. You turned me into a freak… like you. You even killed Dalton… just to prove a point. He had a family!” The weight of Dalton’s death, made meaningless, pressed down on her. ‘All of this just because he wanted me?’

“So perceptive. Of course, I did. I heard him coming a mile away. I wanted him to see you. Knew your body would reject his unworthy blood but…” He leaned in, his lips mere inches from the shell of her ear. “You needed to learn that you can only drink from me.”

Her eyes widened, betrayal and heartbreak etched into her face. She shoved him weakly, her small fists striking his chest, the impact barely registering against his supernatural strength. He didn’t flinch, his gaze unwavering.

“How could you…? He was our friend. You’re supposed to be my brother! How could you be so selfish?! I thought you loved me! You’re the worst!”

“I did this because I love you, Y/n. But you’re right, I am selfish. I want you all to myself.” he replied, his voice a low, possessive murmur. ‘If I hadn’t drained him while she slept, I wouldn’t be able to feed her.’ 

“Was any of it real? Did you ever see me as your sister? As your family?” She hadn’t meant to ask such a pointless question but it slipped from her mouth regardless. Something like this didn’t matter now that things have gotten this far.

“Of course, I did. I am your brother, meimei. But I am so much more than that now. And so are you.” He said so tenderly, it was like he was her Caleb again but his words were so foreign. His hand caressed her cheek, a touch both gentle and so possessive. 

“I’m the same brother who loved you from the moment I first saw your tiny face. The one who spoiled you rotten, who indulged your every whim. The one who took your first kiss. The brother who fingered your dripping pussy. The same brother who ate you out until you came on my tongue last night. The brother who took your virginity and fucked you full of my seed.”

“You’re disgusting!” she screamed, lurching away from his touch, her body wracked with sobs. “You took advantage of me! You made me feel guilty for- for… but this entire time, it was all you!” 

He moved in an instant, a blur of predatory grace, pinning her back against the bloodied sheets with a terrifying gentleness, his eyes burning with an obsessive fire. He slotted his hips between her still wet thighs as he lowered himself onto her. His body pressed firmly against hers. 

“I know, sweet girl. I know. But you are my best friend.” he whispered, his lips brushing against her temple, his breath hot against her skin. “My precious, meimei. My cherished lover. You are everything to me. How could you think I’d let something as simple as mortality keep you from me?” 

His planted a kiss on either side of her cheeks. “I wanted you so bad, it hurts. I couldn’t watch you grow old, sick and die. Couldn’t let you leave me. I need you. All of you. I won’t accept anything less.” He spoke into her neck, kissing and nipping her between words. She could feel the sincerity of his words through the bond. It flooded her body with the warmth and love that he had for her. 

Y/n shook with rage despite that. His confession was worse than anything she had ever felt. “I will never be your friend! Or your lover! Or anything!” Her voice cracked, raw with hatred and despair. “I hate you, Caleb! I hate you so much!”

He exhaled slowly, his lips brushing the delicate curve of her ear, his voice a low, possessive murmur that sent a shiver down her spine. “No you don’t, Y/n.” he said as his grip tightened almost imperceptibly. 

“You can’t. Even if you wanted to with every fiber of your being… you couldn’t. Our bond cemented the moment I drank from you. You can dislike me. Though, it would never last so I can live with that. But you can never hate me while the sire bond is in place.” His teeth grazed her sternum, making her jolt away. Caleb chuckled, his breath tickling her.

“The bond goes both ways. I can never hate you either. You are mine now, whether you like it or not. And I am yours. My heart, my soul, my blood— it’s all for you.” He tongue dragged over the length of her neck, earning him a gasp.

“This body of mine— mmm~” he grinded his half hard dick against her wet slit, dampening the thin fabric of his cotton pants. “It’s all yours.” Y/n Hips bucked against his, involuntarily. She pushed against his chest but it was like trying to move a stone wall.

“Caleb… don’t.” she gasped.

Caleb's fangs grazed her pounding artery as he pinned her thrashing body beneath him. "Shhh, meimei," he crooned, the vibrations of his voice traveling through her skin. "just relax for me, yeah?" He pecked her lips softly, his hips rolling against hers in a slow, maddening rhythm. The thin fabric of his pants did nothing to hide the thick length of him, already painfully hard and eager, the heat of him branding her.

Y/n arched beneath him, a broken whimper escaping her lips as her traitorous core clenched around nothing, still throbbing from her earlier release. The sire bond pulsed between them, amplifying every shameful spark of pleasure, until her anger blurred into something far more dangerous.

"You feel it too, don't you?" His lips curved against her damp skin. "That delicious heat coiling low in your belly? The way your nipples harden when I breathe against your neck?" To emphasize his point, he blew a cool stream of air across the sensitive flesh he'd just licked.

Her body responded instantly. A whimper escaped before she could choke it back. She could feel his need for her through the bond. It was suffocating her mind to the point that she couldn’t tell where her want began or his need for her ended.

Caleb chuckled darkly, the sound reverberating through her bones. "Your blood sings for me, little one. It’s begging me to fill your pretty cunt." His hips rolled forward, the thick ridge of his erection grinding against her damp core through the thin barrier of his pants.

"See? Even now, soaked and ready for me."

‘I hate him I hate him I- oh god—‘ Another lie she told herself. 

Her nails dug into his shoulders, drawing thin lines of blood that only made him groan louder. Caleb grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her face to the marks she had just made. “Drink, meimei. I took so much from you earlier.” 

“I won’t.” She meant it. But once her face pressed against his collarbone, the scent of his blood hit her. The scent coiled through the air before she even process it. Iron, spiced with something indefinably Caleb. 

Y/n's nostrils flared as the aroma wrapped around her starving senses, thick as smoke from a sacred fire. She salivated, her fangs descending almost painfully. She hesitated for only a moment. Her strong will to resist him making it’s final stand before she gave in, lashing her mouth to his shoulder, feeding from him the way she needed.

The first taste was ruin.

Heat exploded across her tongue, scorching and sweet, like swallowing a dying star.

But instead of burning, it bloomed inside her-euphoria so sharp it bordered on agony. She moaned against his skin, fingers clawing at his shoulders hard enough to draw blood as her body arched toward him like a flower starving for sunlight.

Caleb shuddered below her, his arms locking around her waist as he hauled them both upright. His skin burned against hers, fever-hot, his cock pressing insistently against her stomach.

"Fuck—" His voice was wrecked already, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "That's it, take it-"

She drank greedily, the flavors unfolding across her tongue in waves. Like honey drizzled over black cherries, a richness that coated her tongue and slid down her throat like silk. Beneath that, something musky, something that was purely him. The essence of him, of power and hunger that made her keen against his skin.

 Whining and clawing at him, trying to meld her body with his as she rocked her naked form down onto his hard length with such fervor as she locked her legs around his sculpted waist. 

Caleb's head lolled to the side, letting her indulge in her want for him. His free hand fisted in her hair, tilting her head back just enough to watch her drink. Completely captivated by the sight of her, his pupils had swallowed all color, his breath coming in ragged gasps. 

"Gods…" he choked out, transfixed by the sight of her lips moving against his skin. "You ruin me." She was ruining him, he was falling deeper and deeper under a spell she hadn’t even known she crafted.

She was rough with the way she touched him, scoring his chest with her marks, turned him on so much that his cock weeped with excitement. Just the feel of her greedily drinking from him made him a complete mess. 

‘It feels so good. I need to be inside her or I’ll fucking die!’

He lifted them carefully, not wanting to disrupt her as he hastily dragged his pants down his thighs. He sat back down, hands on her hips as he stilling her frantic hips to his, earning him a whine in protest. So desperate for friction that he would never deny her.

In an instant, his hips snapped upwards, simultaneously slamming her down onto his cock, burying his impressive length to the hilt. Y/n cried out from the brutal intrusion, barely missing the deep, satisfied groan from the brunettes as her body stretched to accommodate him.

The stretch burned as she tried to adjust, bordering on too much. But the pain was already melting into pleasure, her walls fluttering around him as if trying to pull him deeper. She arched into him as he set a terrifying pace that she couldn’t hope to keep up with.  

“Still so tight~” He groaned, staring down at her small frame while fucking her on his cock. He set a punishing pace from the start, his hips snapping forward with enough force to shake the bed. Each thrust punched the air from her lungs, his pelvis grinding against her clit with bruising precision. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, mingling with their ragged breathing and her broken whimpers.

"Look at you," Caleb growled. "Taking me so perfectly." His hands gripped her hips hard enough to bruise, fingertips pressing into the fresh bite marks on her thighs as he held her impaled on his cock. "Every inch. Just like you were made for me."

Y/n could feel him everywhere, the thick veins along his length pulsing inside her, the way his hips pressed flush against her, the hot spill of his precum coating her walls.

The bond between them sang with shared sensation, amplifying every twitch of his cock inside her, every flutter of her cunt around him.

It was a claiming. Each thrust punched the air from her lungs, his pelvis grinding against her clit with bruising force on every inward stroke. The wet slap of skin on skin filled the room, mingling with their ragged breathing and her broken whimpers.

"Feel that?" Caleb panted, his fangs grazing her collarbone. "How your body sucks me back in every time I pull out?" To demonstrate, he withdrew almost completely, leaving just the tip inside before slamming home again. "Like you're afraid I'll leave you empty."

Y/n's nails raked down his back, drawing blood that only seemed to drive him wilder.

The metallic scent filled the air, mixing with the musk of their joining. Caleb groaned deep in his chest, the vibration traveling through where their bodies were connected.

"Fuck, you're perfect," he snarled, increasing his pace until the bedframe creaked in protest. "So tight and wet and mine." His hand slid between them, thumb finding her clit and rubbing rough circles that had her seeing stars. "Cum for me, meimei. Let me feel you fall apart on my cock."

As if his words had power over her body, her orgasm hit like a tidal wave, tearing through her with brutal intensity. Her walls clenched around him in rhythmic pulses, her scream muffled against his shoulder as she bit down hard enough to draw blood. The taste of him, rich, dark and addictive, flooded her mouth as her vision whited out.

Caleb groaned, his body shuddering. His thrusts became shorter, more frantic, his grip on her hips bruising. "Y/n..." he gasped, his breath ragged. Caleb stiffened above her, a guttural cry tearing from his throat as he spilled his seed deep within her, a final, brutal act of possession. The bond between them flared white hot, magnifying the sensation until she came again, her body spasming uncontrollably around his still-pulsing cock.

For long moments, the only sounds were their ragged breathing and the wet drip of their mingled fluids onto the sheets. Caleb remained inside her, his forehead pressed to hers as they both came down from the high. Using his weight, he pushed their bodies back, dropping them onto the bed.

When he finally spoke, his voice was rough with satisfaction and something darker.

"Now you understand, don't you?" Caleb's fingers traced the fresh bite marks on her neck with possessive reverence, his voice a velvet-wrapped blade in the darkness.

"This is what eternity feels like, meimei." His hips rolled lazily, still buried to the hilt inside her, drawing a broken whimper from her swollen lips. "Every heartbeat. Every breath. Every drop of blood in your veins—all mine to savor."

Y/n's body trembled beneath him, caught between the aftershocks of pleasure and the rising tide of shame. The bond between them pulsed like a living thing, amplifying every sensation until she could barely distinguish where his pleasure ended and hers began. His cock twitched inside her, still half-hard, still claiming.

He shifted his weight, lifting himself slightly, just enough to withdraw with a slick, wet sound that made her stomach churn. The brief emptiness was quickly filled as he positioned himself again, his gaze never leaving hers, a predatory anticipation tightening his features.

"Round two, little one?" he murmured, his voice a low growl of possessive hunger. "Now that you're properly warmed up."

[literaryvein-reblogs]

Hi! Love your blogs. I couldn't find anything on 'vampires' in your references. I was wondering if you could cover this illustrious yet monstrous figure? Many thanks!

Writing Notes: Vampires

Vampire - (in popular legend) a creature, often fanged, that preys upon humans, generally by consuming their blood. They have been featured in folklore and fiction of various cultures for hundreds of years, predominantly in Europe, although belief in them has waned in modern times.

Common Depiction:

A bloodsucking creature

Rises from its burial place at night, sometimes in the form of a bat, to drink the blood of humans.

By daybreak, it must return to its grave or to a coffin filled with its native earth.

Tales of vampires are part of the world’s folklore, most notably in Hungary and the Balkan Peninsula.

The disinterment in Serbia in 1725 and 1732 of several fluid-filled corpses that villagers claimed were behind a plague of vampirism led to widespread interest and imaginative treatment of vampirism throughout western Europe.

Vampires are supposedly dead humans (originally suicides, heretics, or criminals) who maintain a kind of life by biting the necks of living humans and sucking their blood; their victims also become vampires after death.

These “undead” creatures cast no shadow and are not reflected in mirrors.

They can be warded off by crucifixes or wreaths of garlic and can be killed by exposure to the sun or by an oak stake driven through the heart.

Origin. Creatures with vampiric characteristics have appeared at least as far back as ancient Greece, where stories were told of creatures that attacked people in their sleep and drained their bodily fluids.

Tales of walking corpses that drank the blood of the living and spread plague flourished in medieval Europe in times of disease.

Cultural historian Christopher Frayling points out how the vampire myth is a parody of the Christian resurrection and a “satanic version” of transubstantiation—the Catholic belief that during Holy Communion the bread and wine change into the body and blood of Jesus Christ.

The vampire myth allows us to examine societal taboos we aren’t always able to discuss. “It’s about wanting a demon lover to take you over; about desiring undesirable things,” Frayling explains. “It transposes them into this myth in a rather pleasurable way.”

Hatred of Garlic. Many cultures have long believed in the extraordinary powers of garlic; from ancient Egypt to Romania, garlic has been used as a natural insect repellent, a natural antibiotic, and as protection against other preternatural evils. Modern belief in garlic’s curative powers against vampires likely comes from these more ancient beliefs.

Literary Examples

The most famous vampire is Count Dracula from Bram Stoker’s novel Dracula (1897).

In the 20th century Anne Rice’s novel Interview with the Vampire, published in 1976, notably introduced the world to vampires that were brooding and self-loathing and squabbled like humans.

Modern vampire treatment in popular culture is usually divided into cycles.

The Malignant Cycle (1922-1948): The vampire is treated as a creature of pure horror, as popular in the early films like Nosferatu and Universal films.

The Erotic Cycle (1950-1985): The vampire is considered evil but alluring, like in the Hammer Horror films.

The Sympathetic Cycle (1987-2001): The vampire is seen as a tragic monster to be pitied, but still feared, though they can sometimes be redeemed, usually by becoming human once more.

The Individualist Cycle (2003-present day): The vampire can be bad, good, or in between, much like humans, and their transformation to vampirism does not imply a change in morality.

In modern vampire literature, the shift from the vampire’s legendary Gothic characteristics to a more romanticized heroism becomes apparent.

The 20th and 21st centuries brought about a new version of the classic vampire.

This creature distances itself from the dark, horrifying being and grows into a more desirable partner (both romantically and socially) than its predecessors.

As was seen in the vampire literature of earlier centuries, the vampire was always the one who attacked because of repressed sexual desires.

Instead, now the human poses the larger threat for the modern vampire to have the ability to control his blood lust because the human now seemingly has control over the vampire’s sexual agency.

The female characters have been refashioned from being threatened to posing more of a (sexual) threat. Examples:

Isabella Swan from The Twilight Series and Gabrielle Maxwell from the Midnight Breed novels actively seek a sexual relationship with their vampire counterparts and are even willing to abandon their identities and constantly risk their lives for a chance to become part of the vampire world.

This contrasting presentation of the vampire’s romantic characteristics could be associated with the time period’s viewpoint of sexuality.

Instead of the repressed sexuality that were apparent in 18th and 19th century works, the modern Byronic vampire is not the main villain who presents danger to those around him.

The vampires are the now the victims who are tasked with repressing their desires, while humans seek to fulfill their desires in becoming a part of the vampire world.

Some Vampire Tropes

Animorphism: Vampires commonly turn into bats (or other nocturnal animals, such as wolves).

Chinese Vampire: An undead being from Chinese Mythology called the jiang shi, depicted as a hopping vampire/zombie that feeds on chi.

Cross-Melting Aura: Some vampires are powerful and evil enough to repel or destroy holy weapons.

Daywalking Vampire: Contrary to most depictions, some vampires may actually be immune to sunlight.

Horror Hunger: A person starts to feel intense cravings for blood after being turned into a vampire. How well they're able to resist these urges can vary.

Missing Reflection: Vampires often do not reflect any image in mirrors. Sometimes extends to not appearing in photos, films or videos as well.

Turning Back Human: A common goal for people who've been involuntarily vampirized and don't want to stay this way.

Undeath Always Ends: When even undead vampires can still die.

Voluntary Vampire Victim: Someone willingly lets a vampire feed on them.

Wooden Stake: Stabbing or impaling vampires through their heart with a sharp, pointy wooden stick is the classic method for killing them.

Sources: 1 2 3 4 5 6 ⚜ More: References ⚜ Writing Resources PDFs On Vampires (Part 1) ⚜ (Part 2)

Hi, thanks so much for your kind words. Hope this helps with your writing!

[castiwls]

you are in love - s.w

Paring; sam x reader

Prompt; 'Pauses and says, you're my best friend. And you knew what it was, he is in love'

Requested; anon

Notes; kinda made this sader than i meant oops. reqs and inbox are open !

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

Ever since he was a child Sam had been taught to fear the dark. Taught that all the worst things happened in the darkness of the night. Over time the childhood fear of creatures hiding in his closest had slowly faded away as he came to terms with the fact that those creatures did in fact not just live in the closest but also in the wider world.

He’d quickly learnt that his actual fears lay not only in the dark but also in the light. That was partly why he’d quickly learnt that his favourite time of day was dusk. The time of day when the world was almost in limbo, not yet dark enough for the monsters of the night to come out but also not too light for them to lurk on the streets.

Sleep seemed to come and go for him recently. More and more nightmares making appearances made sleep something which he’d simply rather avoid altogether, yet that had changed when you’d walked into his life.

Sleep seemed easier and safer whenever you were around, your body almost like a protection blanket in human form. The nightmares never seemed as bad.

Yet he still found himself waking in the late hours, a small jolt of fear turning his blood cold as his eyes stared up at the dark ceiling. Letting out a breath he shifted in the bed, turning to watch the rise and fall of your chest as you slept beside him.

A small smile pulled at Sam’s lips as the previous fear seemed to melt away as you subconsciously moved closer, a small huff leaving your lips. 

“Sam?” Your voice was quiet as you slowly blinked up at him. “What's wrong?”

He shook his head, his smile widening slightly as you leaned back slightly to get a better look at him. You were more than used to him being awake at almost all hours, you’d learnt very quickly that the smallest movement seemed to wake him up - much to your dismay.

“M’fine.” He brushed a hand through your hair. “Just trouble sleeping. That’s all.” He reassured.

You watched him for a moment your eyes tracing his face. He didn’t look stressed, if anything he looked relatively relaxed. You subconsciously relaxed realising that this wasn’t a nightmare situation and that he wasn’t trying to hide something.

“Okay.” You nodded a tired smile pulling at your lips as you stifled a yawn. 

You watched him for a moment longer before leaning up to press a chaste kiss to his cheek, your lips brushing over his cheek for a moment before pulling back. “Try and get some sleep okay?” 

Sam nodded whispering his agreement before brushing a hand over your cheek. His lips parted for a moment as if to say something before he stopped. His eyes moved from you for a moment, an almost hard look settling over his face.

He sucked in a breath before looking back to you, his face softening almost immediately. “Why did you do that?” You frowned.

“Do what?”

“That face, why did you pull that face?”

Sam laughed quietly. “I didn’t pull a face.”

“Yes, you did. You looked like you were in pain for a moment.” His smile dropped slightly as you sat up - him quickly following. “I know something's wrong.” 

Sam was quiet for a moment before he pulled his gaze from yours, an almost nervous look taking over his features.

“It’s nothing it’s just…I realised how much you mean to me and I guess…” He trailed off running a hand through his hair. “Everyone I’ve cared about in this way…It’s not ended well for them. I don’t want that for you.” His hand found yours, intertwining your fingers as he looked back up, his eyebrows furrowing slightly.

Your heart pinched slightly at his words. You’d told him hundreds of times that nothing was going to happen to you. That he was allowed to love without feeling guilty, yet he still refused to say the words.

“You’re my best friend.” His hand tightened against yours as he felt his breath catch for a moment. You both knew you were more than friends. You had been for a while yet he wasn’t willing to risk saying those words for fear of placing a target on your back. You both knew the unsaid words which hung over you at all times. It was almost like a string waiting to snap as you both danced the line, neither willing to cross and finally admit that you were in love.

[soracities]

"Persephone Writes a Letter to Her Mother", by A.E. Stallings

First – hell is not so far underground – My hair gets tangled in the roots of trees & I can just make out the crunch of footsteps, The pop of acorns falling, or the chime Of a shovel squaring a fresh grave or turning Up the tulip bulbs for separation. Day & night, creatures with no legs Or too many, journey to hell and back. Alas, the burrowing animals have dim eyesight. They are useless for news of the upper world. They say the light is “loud” (their figures of speech All come from sound; their hearing is acute).

The dead are just as dull as you would imagine. They evolve like the burrowing animals – losing their sight. They may roam abroad sometimes – but just at night – They can only tell me if there was a moon. Again and again, moth-like, they are duped By any beckoning flame – lamps and candles. They come back startled & singed, sucking their fingers, Happy the dirt is cool and dense and blind. They are silly & grateful and don’t remember anything. I have tried to tell them stories, but they cannot attend. They pester you like children for the wrong details – How long were his fingernails? Did she wear shoes? How much did they eat for breakfast? What is snow? And then they pay no attention to the answers.

My husband, bored with their babbling, neither listens nor speaks. But here there is no fodder for small talk. The weather is always the same. Nothing happens. (Though at times I feel the trees, rocking in place Like grief, clenching the dirt with torturous toes.) There is nothing to eat here but raw beets & turnips. There is nothing to drink but mud-filtered rain. Of course, no one goes hungry or toils, however many – (The dead breed like the bulbs of daffodils – Without sex or seed – all underground – Yet no race has such increase. Worse than insects!)

I miss you and think about you often. Please send flowers. I am forgetting them. If I yank them down by the roots, they lose their petals And smell of compost. Though I try to describe Their color and fragrance, no one here believes me. They think they are the same thing as mushrooms. Yet no dog is so loyal as the dead, Who have no wives or children and no lives, No motives, secret or bare, to disobey. Plus, my husband is a kind, kind master; He asks nothing of us, nothing at all – Thus fall changes to winter, winter to fall, While we learn idleness, a difficult lesson.

He does not fully understand why I write letters. He says that you will never get them. True – Mulched-leaf paper sticks together, then rots; No ink but blood, and it turns brown like the leaves. He found my stash of letters, for I had hid it, Thinking he’d be angry. But he never angers. He took my hands in his hands, my shredded fingers Which I have sliced for ink, thin paper cuts. My effort is futile, he says, and doesn’t forbid it.

[seneon]

. ♱ ݁ ─────── ❛❛ 𝐖𝐄 𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏 ❜❜

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐄 .𖥔 ݁ 𝐒𝐄𝐄 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐀 𝐂𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍

→ prince¡touya of the todoroki royal family not only has his crown stolen by a notorious thief, but also his heart! will he find the beautiful thief and get back his crown and heart?

𝐄𝐓𝐂. female reader. mentions of minor metaphorical gore, dark romance, profanity, touya is cruel ( as inspired by cardan greenbriar from the cruel prince ) wc of 2000+

it is the dead of night where the world sleeps and the creatures of the night emerge from the soils of the ground to wander around the ends of the earth in sickening silence.

touya todoroki, the royal prince and heir to the kingdom, sleeps soundly. his white eyelashes brushing against his cheeks as his lips parted ever so slightly to let out soft exhales of comfort along with the rhythm of his chest rising and falling with each breath.

the prince was unaware of a cloaked figure that had so quietly sneaked into his room through the windows as if they were one of the wandering souls of the night. as light as a bird’s feather, yet as deadly as a snake’s poison.

what a truly remarkable person this was, to break into the castle grounds and slip into the prince’s room like the moonlit veil that filled his room and wrapped itself around touya’s sleeping figure.

you ran your fingers through the items that felt so foreign to your skin. all these riches and golds only a member of the royal family could afford. each element and belonging even as small as a ring, could grant you a small land in the village outskirts.

your eyes travelled to the sleeping prince, taking in his beauty that rested so peacefully while your fingers kept wrapping itself around touya's belongings to keep them into your bag.

the moment the prince awakens and his eyes open to take in the veil of the night, your neck would have been sliced from your spine immediately.

even in the dead of night, no deadly creature would wander into hell where they know they wouldn’t survive. it is that of the animal instinct, to never enter the gates of hell. well, most creatures, except you. your dedication and foolishness gets you anywhere but heaven.

now, you stand in the midst of the line that determines your fate between life and death. life equivalent to your success in disappearing in a phantom silence as you have appeared as light as a feather. death equivalent to your failure in leaving the comfort of the prince which you know will behead you with his own sword.

it had always been like that. the eldest son of the todoroki royal family has a heart full of cruelty not even the deadliest poison could counter. the grass beneath his boots wilts in a metaphorical way that carries his soul so dark it sucks in anyone else’s light.

all this and you still chose to rob his room as if it was nothing but a mere friendly game of chugging a barrel of beer with a lumberjack twice your size.

your heart races with the anticipation that comes this very night when your fingers wrapped itself around the one thing that determines royalty. the diamonds and gold all around it felt more than just a mere success of surviving touya’s room tonight.

the crown then sits above your head as the rubies glimmer in the reflection of the mirror. such a heavy piece that feels so alien in your head, weighing heaviest in terms of mass and story over the other items which you have stolen over the past few years.

to think that a thief would be wearing a prince’s crown and looking at herself in the reflection. you saw nothing but the reflection of a lowlife girl who was raised by bandits in the back alleys, wearing a royal piece that stands tall.

a smirk slowly carved itself over your lips, invisible blood flowing along the cuts of the imaginary blade across your lips.

touya remained asleep, oblivious to your soundless footsteps that carried you to stand beside his bed, looking down at him with his crown above your head.

“you don’t look so cruel when you’re asleep, your highness…” you softly said, eyes locked onto his messy white hair that fell over his eyes.

a few seconds passed. ten was it? twenty maybe. you don’t know. it was weird to you, that you’re still here watching over the heir to the throne slumber his night away.

perhaps you are the odd one tonight.

“you’re wearing my crown, woman,” his deep raspy voice heavy from sleep broke you out of your trance as you immediately stepped back, but touya grabbed your wrist and reached for his belonging on your head.

you cursed under your breath before quickly leaning down to press your lips against his soft ones, freezing him in the process of distracting as his crown slightly stumbled on your head.

this was your cue to run. your feet finally move, free from the shackles as you break free with the crown being shoved into your bag.

touya regained his senses and threw his velvet blankets away, seeing you paused at the railing of the balcony. you glanced at him before smirking.

“see you around, your highness.”

before the young prince could call for you to stop in your ministrations. you have already jumped down over the edge of the railing— down into nothingness.

his ocean eyes looked over the gardens that were painted below his room. seeing how your figure disappeared so quickly, he knew you were no amateur. his fingers touched against his lips where you have pressed your lips against it.

the softness of your lips meeting his has his heart pounding against his ribcage so much that it was strange he’s feeling this way about a thief.

touya will have to find you and cut your pretty lips off himself.

cruel prince touya todoroki laid in his bed, hair tousled and unkempt against the silk sheets of his pillow. he stares up the ceiling, lost in a sea of thoughts that drowns him completely while his hand absentmindedly throws a dagger up into the air and catches it as it falls back.

he has done enough for today. by all means, touya has tortured enough souls for the day and he now rests his skin from spilling tears and devastation. the only thing touya will not spill is blood, even though his mind fantasizes the idea of all the blades that he owns being pierced through the skin of a human being.

quite twisted really, the heir to the throne has such a mind that twists in a way that no other souls on this earth could comprehend. was it selfishness that he harbours in the name of the crown? or was it the power and the victory that he basked in?

maybe it was the tears that he drinked and the pain that he consumed from the people he had granted cruelty to.

whatever it may be, everyone feared him. well… everyone but a certain beautiful thief that robbed his royal insignia off his head.

touya clutched the hilt of the dagger before throwing the little weapon so that it gnawed into the body of a fly and hit the wall with a thud.

“stupid fucking thief,” he loathed as he sat up, running his fingers through his soft and messy snow-white hair as his mind kept wandering to the way your eyes glanced at him under the moonlit night before you jumped down the balcony.

the way your lips pressed against his in such a way that it has him insanely addicted to the brief moment where he demands a repeated replay over and over again where he imagines hundreds of different ways to kill you or pull you down towards him.

the blade he held was long forgotten, as he stepped on his feet and wore his night shoes, going to the balcony to inhale the fresh air of the night.

once more, touya allowed his mind to wander into oblivion. his gaze travels to every corner of the kingdom, from the rich pavements of the palace to the sandy trails in the forests far away.

all these simple things yet touya chooses to ignore them until this very night where they seemed oddly interesting to him.

what is the point of even paying attention to the smallest of details when he could just turn a blind eye and bask in the glory he was given ever since he breathed his first breath into this wretched world?

he reeked of royalty, his stolen crown a literal testament to that the moment it was placed on his head when he was a baby. he gripped the balcony railing at the thought of his stolen crown.

touya was going to search every corner of this boring kingdom until he found you. and he starts with the alley of bandits.

to have a blade so accurate it missed by merely a few centimetres away from your ears has your heart freezing at that very moment. your soul ceases to function for a brief second and your brain twitches at the feeling of blood inviting itself down your cheeks.

you glanced to the back, fingers moved to the blade strapped on your thighs as you looked at the only soul capable of committing such an act and having the power to get away with it.

“your highness,” you said under your breath while he approached you, causing your fingers to fully wrap around the hilt of your dagger now.

“pretty thief,” touya’s voice stoically said as his heavy footsteps pushed into the rocky roads of this bandit alley where your entire origin begins.

he looked so out of place, all regal and mighty in this dark area. his white hair, white lashes, and his soft pearly white skin does not compare to the calloused, rough, and dirty streets.

well, he definitely doesn’t care if his blade cuts through the skin of a dirty thief. he has millions of other daggers to aim at people anyways.

you are his first experiment. he spilled your blood from your cheeks that is worthy of being caressed by soft and loving hands.

“return to me what you have stolen.”

he tells you, no— demands you. and all you did was tilted your head, the smirk of that night making yet another appearance. “or what?”

“i’ll cut your pretty skin off,” the prince returns your smirk, his new dagger dancing off his smooth fingers. “then maybe i’ll dip my crown with your blood once i get it back. you know… for my prize.”

“you’re sick...” you stated, an obvious observation that comes from years of watching the royal family from the shadows. yet touya todoroki seems to enjoy reveling in the sea of poison which your voice holds.

his fingers reached out without fear as the tip ran through your cheeks. then, his thumb wipes the blood that lightly flows down your cheek. the movements were so slow that it tantalised you in a way that made your fingers falter around the hilt of your blade.

whatever touya’s touch possesses, it is not healthy for you— for his fingers were so soft and lovely it was as if his touch is the one that is meant for you.

“you don’t know anything about being sick, pretty girl,” he coos, voice low and in a wind of whispers.

you hate yourself for finding his voice sweet in the midst of your unseen death sentence. it soothes you in whatever way you should not find soothing. like honey that flows down the tip of touya’s tongue, it finds its new home to seep into your own tongue.

the blade he held in his free hand then presses lightly against your throat, kissing your skin with cold metal just as he imagined kissing your lips with his cold lips.

“give me back my fucking crown.”

a gulp of fear mixed in with the ecstasy of excitement danced in your throat against the blade of the dagger before you exhaled.

“you should see me in a crown, prince touya.”

quickly, the crown you retrieved from the darkness like a magician with mere poker cards. touya’s turquoise eyes glimmers at the sight of his royal jewelry, eyes darting between you and the crown.

and slowly, you placed the greatest treasure of the prince above your head as it sits above on the soft weight of your hair. your own eyes twinkling with the concept of victory already plastered in your mind.

touya todoroki realises something as he gazes upon the sight of you in his crown. he realises that there’s another soul in this kingdom who fits a fancy crown made of the richest materials in the world. the realisation punctured his mind in a way that it twists into a grin in his face.

a grin so heavy with amusement yet it is laced with growing cruelty that poisons your insides with his smile and gaze alone.

“you’d be my perfect queen.”

and that was your death sentence.

TAGS ♱ @killyzury @rvoulte @hecate-frenchfries @onlyyemanii @1ns3n1ty3x1sts @sunolls @standcom @fictional-reylin @linhvrse @angeleclipsey @kourayaki

©SENEON EST. 2025 .♱ ݁ WE ALL FALL ASLEEP

[readychilledwine]

Lollipop

Azriel x innocent Vanserra OC

Summary - after being silenced during the High Lord's meeting with her favorite candy. Seraphina finds herself the center of a certain shadowsingers attention

Warnings - implied smut, implied corruption kink, Beron being Beron (so mentions/signs of abuse), implied swapping, Nesta implying she'd go down on OC, age gap, messing with canon a little bit

A/N -I got bored and the whole corruption kink side of me came out. I also think I'm developing a Nesta kink, and it's probably going to get pretty smutty between her and an oc or reader here soon.... oooo or the valkyries x reader.... might have to do something for my girlies who love other girlies...

Part 2

Azriel was going to fucking faint.

Beron, in an effort to stop his daughter from continuing to egg on the Princess of the Summer court, had pulled out some form of an candy on a stick and put it in her mouth much to the laughter and delight of everyone around.

Now all the shadowsinger could do was watch out of the corners of his eyes as his mate sucked and licked on the candy innocently while reading the book Eris had brought for her.

Doing okay there, brother? Rhysand's purr in his mind before the High Lord looked over at the daughter of Autumn had Azriel suppressing a growl. Well, doesn't little Seraphina just look so pretty with her lips wrapped around something. 

Azriel shot him a glare before peeking over again. She had the candy so just the tip of it was in her mouth, lips wrapped perfectly around it. Cauldron fucking boil me. Rhysand sent him a wave of agreement as Feyre also looked over and smirked.

Feyre thinks the 3 of us should take her, and oh fuck-

Azriel and Rhys quickly snapped their eyes back to the meeting when the daughter of Autumn looked their way before looking at her older brother and tapping his shoulder.

Her breasts were on display, small hands delicating holding the stick of the candy as she leaned forward in the exquisite dress she was in to whisper in her older brother's ear.

The male heir of Autumn looked over to the Night Court glaring at the shadowsinger and the high lord. He growled softly before taking the candy from a clearly uncomfortable female.

"Excuse my interruption," Tamlin stopped talking as soon as Eris spoke and demanded the attention of the room, "Do you have something you'd like to say to my sister, Spymaster? You've been staring at her for the past 10 minutes." 

The room had gone silent. Tamlin leaned forward with a smirk, as did Tarquin and Thesan. The daughter of Autumn was an unspoken set boundary. No one looked at or touched Beron's girl, not even Amarantha. Too much power radiated in that small body. Power anyone would have given Beron their left arm to have access to. They just had to follow his rules to get the chance to play for her hand, and right now, Azriel's silence was risking his own family's shot at it.

Might want to say something there, brother. Az shot Rhysand a glare before clearing his throat and saying the one thing he knew he shouldn't. 

"How can I not stare at such a beautiful creature? Especially when your father so willing put something in her mouth for the entertainment of every male here?" Rhys froze and immediately sent a look Azriel's way. 

That wasn't what I had in mind. Being her mate does not promise you her hand, Az. Beron could sell her off before Eris gets the chance to bring her to us. Tread carefully. 

Beron laughed darkly before turning to the Night Court, "I didn't realize silencing my 55 year old daughter with candy would be such a problem for you, Azriel. No one else here seems to think anything of it. Must just be that Illyrian Bastard blood in you." The reminder of her young age was a slap in the face to the shadowsinger. A reminder that she hardly understood the world yet and that she had spent the majority of her life trapped in that mountain.

Azriel caught the way Seraphina's eyes shut slowly at her father's insults, "It's not a big deal, daddy. I-." Her father held a hand up to silence her. No one missed the flinch from the young girl. Helion, Azriel, Cassian, and Rhys all looked towards each other.

Helion was now staring at the young female too, his eyes softening at her fear. Beron glared at Helion before continuing, "If you continue to look at my daughter, you'll find yourself wingless, boy." 

Sera even knew that was too far. Azriel watched the way her chest stilled as she stared wide eyed at her father before switching her gaze to Helion who shook his head softly at her in warning. 

Rhysand growled this time, "Do not threaten MY family over your choice not to educate your daughter on sexual matters."

Sera was confused. How was a caramel apple sucker sexual? She made eye contact with the Spring lord, who simply motioned for her to come over to him, and she did. 

She walked in a way that reminded Azriel of water. Flowing, smooth, gently. He barely suppressed the growl in his throat as Tamlin pulled the girl into his lap, his mouth close to her delicately pointed and jewel adorned ear. 

The room filled with laughter as her eyes grew wide and a red flush hit her chest and cheeks. "Really," she whispered softly to Tamlin, who nodded and then continued whispering in her ear. Soft nodding came from her as Tamlin stroked her upper thigh and whispered to her, eyes locked on Azriel in a clear message. He knew. He could somehow sense the bond. "What's a," Tamlin covered her mouth, laughing slightly as he explained something else to her. "So people don't use the proper terms during sex?" Tamlin was smirking at this point. Whatever he had just said made the young girl gasp, and her eyes go wide.

Beron growled this time and tried to break the field of neutrality in anger but couldn't. "Enough, Tamlin!" Seraphina shifted in Tamlin's lap after he finished speaking to her. She stood and walked back over to the Autumn Court in shock and embarrassment.

"I apologize for the distraction, Shadowsinger. Forgive me," she began playing with her long red curls as Azriel scented her anxiety. "Thank you for the…. Educational lesson, high lord." The daughter of Autumn sat back down slowly and made a fatal error. Her and Nesta Archeron made eye contact and the oldest Cauldron made said one simple thing.

"In case he didn't tell you because he's a selfish male, there's males out there who'd return that favor. And females, if youd be interested in that." The daughter of Autumn grew more red and opened her book to hide her face in the crisp pages, "If you'd like to learn, let me know." 

An audible squeak came from the young fae female, "Eris." She was desperate for help. Her brother shot a look Nesta's way, and she returned it with a hate fueled glare.

Tamlin had painted a mental image for her in pretty words chosen specifically to make the young female feel warm. Truly though, She didn't mind the idea. The thought of her on her knees as Azriel tangled his large scarred hands through her long red curls, tongue running along his cock as he made a mess of her made her feel warmth growing in her stomach she'd never felt before.

She had heard rumors from other females about the size of an Illyrian's wings having something to do with the size of their cock, and Seraphina was just trying to imagine how exactly that would work if rumors were true. How exactly would she fit all of him into her mouth if given a chance? The handsome spymaster had huge wings. The largest wings she'd ever seen on a winged fae. If wing size related to endowment size, his cock was huge. And if Nesta was involved?  Cauldron boil her. Would Cassian also be involved? 

A hand gently clawed at her mind, causing her to freeze. It wasn't trying to get in her head. It was already there. Her honey eyes met violet ones as Rhysand leaned back in his chair and sipped his wine.

No, love, keep going. I was enjoying the delicious thoughts you were having. My brothers and I love sharing our toys. You could have Cassian and Nesta, myself and Feyre- His voice was purr that made her shiver with chills as she slammed him back out and watched as he looked at Azriel. 

The winged male's only response was one side of his mouth twitching into a smile before he became unreadable again. 

"Now that Seraphina has been educated on some of the finer matters of life, can we continue?" Kal asked coldly as he leaned back into his chair.

Eris discretely handed his sister back her candy. He shot her one look that said, "Be good," before focusing solely on Tamlin and Rhysand restarting their lovers spat.

Seraphina made eye contact with Azriel again as she slowly put the sucker back in her mouth. Azriel pulled his lower lip into his mouth and tugged the mating bond, praying Rhysand had been right when he said he had found it in her mind, but the female just didn't know what it was. Another way to keep her in the dark and innocent, Azriel thought bitterly.

She made a confused face as she looked down at her chest. Then followed the string to Azriel, lollipop now back in the same trapped position of her lips, If you continue looking at me like that with those pretty lips wrapped around that thing, I am not responsible for what happens next little bunny.

Is what Nesta said true? Azriel felt his leathers growing tight at her curious nature. He could feel desire radiating in their bond. 

Of course. Only, I eat pussy for my pleasure, not yours. And I will eat pussy because I want to. Not because you've wrapped your pretty little mouth on my cock. He had her. He felt her arousal spike as she shifted. I imagine you'll also be the type who sucks cock for your pleasure instead of mine, little mate.

I'd like to learn. He almost came right then and there as he watched her put the candy in her mouth, eyes wide like a doe.

Keep doing that, baby, and I'll be stealing you to teach you much, much more than just whatever bullshit Tamlin told you. Fucking ruin you for anyone else.

Seraphina turned her attention back to the book she had with a small smile, I'm doing emissary work in the Dawn Court all week this week. I'll be alone tonight.

I'll find you.

I look forward to it. 

[the-real-fandom-person]

SAGAU-related brainrot knocking around my skull lately: Lady Maria!Creator.

Noble, graceful, remorseful, powerful, melancholy, otherworldly Lady Maria. The Creator isn’t a pure and untouched soul, she’s a scarred and battle-hardened warrior, ridden with guilt. Trauma has made her cold, yet paradoxically gentle.

Teyvat makes lumenflowers blossom everywhere to herald Maria!Creator’s arrival. Big ones, small ones, towering ones, blooming after sundown alongside the glaze lilies. Even in extreme temperatures, the cold, pale flowers make themselves at home. Slotting peacefully into the local ecosystems without becoming invasive. 

The Pari and the Aranara wake up to find lumenwood groves just outside their respective homes. The Melusines become enamored with these new ‘moon blossoms’ sprouting throughout their village, even the parts that are completely underwater. Amurta students and Fontaine researchers scramble over each other to study this new species. Nilou makes M!C a lumenflower crown, and it replaces her hunter’s cap for the day. Nilou gets the first ever hug from the Creator. Suck it, Azar.

Albedo and Sucrose experiment on these new plants immediately. Xiangling is already using it in some strange new recipe, something Chongyun will actually eat for once. Tighnari, Ganyu, and Shenhe take curious bites out of a lumenflower cutting. The taste isn’t unpleasant, just incomparable to anything else in Teyvat.

Inazuma characters, especially Kazuha, are absolutely fascinated by the Rakuyo (and maybe a little jealous). So graceful is M!C with her strange weapon, so easily she wields it on the battlefield. Every blacksmith in Teyvat hears the words ‘trick weapon’ and takes it as a challenge. Many come close, but none can truly replicate the genuine articles. May they never have a true need for beast-slaying weapons.

Imposter AU? With one of Bloodborne’s toughest bosses? Laughable. RIP anyone stupid enough to try. And if there’s a fake Creator pulling the strings? Not after a quick visceral attack, there isn’t. M!C pulls a blood blade to cut down the imposter’s guards (she notices the stars in her blood that weren’t there before) and the imposter receives the most satisfying visceral ever. 

Up to this point M!C put no stock in the ‘god’ thing. All she sees is mad cult, led by a petty and jealous brat on a power trip. But then she sees the stars in her blood, hears the voice of Teyvat itself, puts two and two together and just… laughs hysterically, because this whole situation is patently ridiculous. Byrgenwerth and the Healing Church failed in their quests for ascension, their heinous crimes being all for naught. Now here she is, thrown headfirst into unwanted ‘godhood’ and getting hunted by her supposed worshipers. Oh, how the tables have turned. 

Once people see the cosmos reflected in M!C’s blood, they fall over each other trying to apologize. Since she’s reached negative patience for everyone’s bullshit, she ignores them and fucks off to the Nightmare. After coming into Teyvat, M!C gained the power to enter and exit the Nightmare at will. The Nightmare doesn’t bend to her will, but it doesn’t treat her as an intruder. The Silverbeasts and Winter Lanterns don’t bat an eye at her presence. She’s a true denizen of both the waking world and the world of dreams, now. 

That night, every soul in Teyvat has the same nightmare - the Celestial gods attempting to forcibly summon the Creator, only to have themselves snatched from Celestia and dragged into a hostile, eldritch world of unfamiliar mish-mashed environments. At every turn, it is full of nightmarish creatures out for their blood. One by one, all but a select portion of Celestials become beast food, with M!C protecting the final ones herself.

Celestia, responsible for planting the fake Creator, falls from the sky the next day, its grand architecture reduced to mere rubble that rains from the heavens. Found amongst these ruins are the mangled, blood-drained and half-eaten bodies of Celestial gods. Spears made of blood impale many of the bodies, spears that seem to have sprouted from inside the flesh. Those that still have intact faces bear identical looks of horror. They find The Sustainer of Heavenly Principles in literal pieces - crushed and torn apart by hands that must have been the size of a grown man.

New stars and constellations appear in the night sky, as the illusion created by Celestia slowly fades. The curse placed on the people of Khaenriah gradually dissipates as well - the hillichurl tribes withdraw from the world, content to leave it alone. Every day, the curse lifts a little more from the people of Khaenriah; one day, Dainslief, Pierro and all the rest will finally be able to die. 

In Celestia’s place rises a second moon - a snow-white harvest moon, always full, large and visible even when clouds blanket the sky.

The Archons try to follow M!C into the Nightmare, but like Celestia, they get their shit wrecked by the denizens of the Frontier. The Archons don’t die for real, they’re just permanently cut off from the Nightmare. It takes Nahida, with dream powers of her own + Traveler and Wanderer in tow, to reach M!C and convince her to give the people of Teyvat a second chance. Nahida succeeds because she has the sense to treat M!C as a person, not some untouchable idol.

Sumeru is warm and welcoming, nothing like Yharnam or Cainhurst. M!C has fond memories from her time as a Byrgenwerth scholar, and the Akademiya feels like home. Sumeru becomes M!C’s preferred nation by default, to the pride of the locals and the despair of everyone else.

M!C has trouble wrapping her head around how mundane Teyvat’s supposed ‘gods’ are. Elemental powers or not, these Archons are too human to be divine; the only divinity M!C knows is eldritch, alien, far beyond mortal comprehension. The Traveler is fractionally closer to true godhood than any Archon. But then, just as the Great Ones were beyond human comprehension, so too are humans beyond the understanding of the Great Ones - perhaps it’s better for humans to have human gods.

Speaking of gods, M!C and Nahida bond over their dream-related powers. If this is before the climax of the Sumeru quest line, the Akademiya gets real quiet, especially when M!C publicly points out how asinine their logic is (she was closely associated with Byrgenwerth and Laurence, she knows their kind all too well). For all of his failures, all the disastrous consequences, Vicar Laurence at least had genuinely good intentions; these fools only care about themselves and preserving their own power. Scaramouche, Azar, the traitorous Sages - selfish, ignorant children all, meddling with forces they only pretend to understand. Crushing them herself is merciful compared to the other outcomes.

Through tactical manipulation of dream worlds, M!C busts Nahida out of baby jail long before Traveler and co. have to, and the Akademiya goes into panic mode because the Creator herself is coming for them. Traveler and co.’s plans turn instead to finding the hidden laboratory under Sumeru City - the combined power of dreams horrifically distorts the battlefield around the Shouki no Kami, even after his defeat. M!C doesn’t kill Azar after the fact, but she doesn’t let him go into exile empty-handed... because she cuts off his hands. Cyno is too unsettled to laugh.

Scaramouche resents her for her part in ruining his apotheosis (and because the Creator didn’t do shit for him in his tragically long life) but as the Wanderer, he and M!C bond over a shared disgust for the Second Fatui Harbinger.

And speaking of the Fatui... Well, they try to recruit her to the cause, and she has this to say:

“I’ll not serve your organization while any part of Dottore yet lives. For too many years, I stood by and did nothing while so-called ‘doctors’ brutalized the innocent and vulnerable for their supposed research, their dreams of godhood and divine revelation. Never again. If your leaders possess a shred of self-preservation between themselves, then perish the thought this instant.”

Fatui agent(s): ...

They don’t give up, of course. The less friendly ‘recruiters’ get sent back to Snezhnaya in pieces. The only Fatuus M!C tolerates is Tartaglia, because aside from being the Traveler’s friend, he’s a decent punching bag/sparring partner. She finds his Foul Legacy transformation cute, like a kitten baring its teeth at a lion.

Related idea: M!C meets Dottore’s remaining segment, and after everything she’s heard (let’s say from Collei and Wanderer, maybe Nahida too) she barely lets him get two words in before cutting his head clean off. Will this affect Dottore in the long run? Probably not. Does it make her feel better? Yes, actually. Collei certainly isn’t upset by the news. Wanderer is, only because he feels M!C was too merciful. She lets him dismember the segment so they can stuff it in a box and send it back to the Doctor as a warning.

If a scourge of beasts were to descend on Teyvat, probably because of Dottore M!C would lead the defense. This is not a war that mortals alone can fight, she insists. By her orders, every available god (herself included), adeptus, dragon, and most of the older allogenes are on the front lines, staving off the worst of the horde. Pyro users are in high demand, for the beasts fear them the most. In lieu of blood ministration, the various healers of Teyvat are working ‘round-the-clock. An entirely new crop of Vision-wielding healers spring up, because Teyvat’s top god herself unconsciously wills them into existence. Because M!C would never make use of the Old Blood, not after seeing and experiencing its effects firsthand. The burden of being a capital-H Hunter, the sweet, intoxicating call of blood - M!C remembers Byrgenwerth’s sacred adage, and she has learned from the mistakes of Vicar Laurence. Yharnam was merely the latest in a cycle of destruction, all because of the Old Blood. She will not doom Teyvat to suffer the same fate.