#vampire Simon ghost Riley

[cactusisconfused]

Cacti making another part to a post? More likely than you think.

Anyway part 2 to Vampire Ghost

-

Ghost had fucked up royally.

He knows this isn't the first time he's been caught in a position like this, but it was never obvious what he was doing. Always he blamed the now dead corpse of an enemy in front of him as a result of hand to hand combat- which is technically true. What he does leave out and that no one ever really noticed, is how the enemy would have two small puncture holes on the side of their neck- or how the corpse seemed to have their blood drained from their body in record time.

The few times he'd been caught like that, the variables were mostly the same. Ghost had gotten split off and alone, he fell into hand to hand combat with the enemy and they were already pale. He and whoever he was with would move on. There would be a mission to complete after all.

But this time?

Yeah no, the variable changed.

He isn't sure how the change happend- or more so how he let it happen. Yet here he is, hovering over the now dead corpse with Soap staring at him with an unreadable expression. Ghost expressed that he lost his knife in the fight- which he had- so he had to resort to biting the fucker. That's why there's blood on his lips and surrounding mask, and no other reason. Definitely.

Soap had nodded slowly, his sapphire eyes looking Ghost over. They eventually continued on with their mission, but that look that Soap gave stayed in Simon's head.

He knew that look. Soap believed ghost wasn't lying, but the scot knew there was more to the story. He had made the same face when Ghost didn't tell a story with all details. The scot never pushed, but he always knew more than he let on.

Ever since then, Ghost has noticed the gaze in Soap's eye's change to a more curious look along with his new fixations on things that just so happen to be related to vampires.

Now, Ghost isn't saying that he thinks Soap thinks he's a vampire, given to the general human world, Vampires don't exist. But the fact that he had given him a carved stake as a gift with a look that was subtly trying to gage Ghost's reaction, started to make Simon believe that Soap might be catching on.

Of course, Ghost hadn't given much reaction, none with any negative connotations anyway. He'd simply taken the stake with a hopefully real nonchalance and put it next to the various trinkets Soap has gotten him over time, all of which he adores.

The next big noticeable thing that Soap did was when they were on leave. The man had said that he would cook dinner, which Ghost happily let happen- he's more of a baker after all.

Ghost can technically eat regular food with little to no consequence. However he doesn't often, unless it's an occasion like this, as the taste is always bland and no matter how big his servings may be, they never make him full.

Simon had been tidying up the apartment when Johnny had called him into the kitchen to grab something. Simon had made his way over to his lover, always he would go and do anything his Johnny would ask.

The thing that gave him pause though was looking over and seeing Soap cutting garlic. Again that curious look so subtly placed in his lover's eyes as he looked at Ghost.

Luckily for Simon, the smell of garlic doesn't actually harm vampires, really only ever gives them headaches or slight nausea. Unluckily for Simon, consuming garlic would be the equivalent to giving chocolate to a dog. Extremely detrimental to his health and potentially fatal.

After grabbing what Soap needed, SImon attempted nonchalance as he wrapped his arms around the shorter man's waist, his head resting on Soap's shoulder. Simon didn't miss how Johnny easily leaned into the touch, or how that small smile bloomed on his face, making the scar on his chin stretch just slightly.

As he watched Johnny cut the garlic, Simon was doing his best on how to plan this so he wakes up tomorrow.

Does he tell Soap that he's a vampire and that if he ate the garlic, no matter how small, it could kill him?

Does he simply say that he doesn't like garlic? He knows Johnny would listen to him and would toss the garlic, but damn Simon and his want to make Johnny happy, he doesn't want to have his words come off as potentially insulting to the man's cooking.

So, for some idiotic reason that has Ghost screaming at Simon, Simon remains quiet as Soap finishes cooking. When they sit down to eat, the hammering heart in Simon's chest stutters to a pause. On the plate, filled with noodles and sauce there is no presence of Garlic whatsoever. Ghost of course does not say anything, not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth.

He notes Johnny's eyes on him, how he seems to have come to a final conclusion in his head, that is made clear over the next few months as Soap's actions relating to vampires cease. Which in turn gave Ghost some respite, as he seems to have successfully passed Soap's trials. 

-

Johnny's resting on the couch in their shared apartment, the tv put on low as he scrolls though his phone waiting for Simon to walk in. Ghost had been sent on another solo mission and had went dark two weeks in. Three months had passed before Price finally pulled Soap aside and told him that Ghost is on his way back to base. Before Johnny could start mentally celebrating, Price informed him that he and Ghost were to be put on leave once again, something about how neither of them take enough breaks. Big talk coming from Captain Jonathan Price.

So here Johnny is waiting for his dearly beloved to return.

As soon as Soapp heard the sound of a key unlocking the front door to their flat, he immediately sat up, his eyes fixated on the door. When the said door opened, he was met with the man himself- disheveled and so clearly tired but alive.

"Welcome home Si. Go sit down on the couch, I'll make you some tea." Soap said softly, giving a kiss to Simon's masked cheek. Simon only responded with a delayed soft grunt and shuffled his way over to the couch. Worry sat in Soap's stomach at seeing the visible fatigue of the Brit. Sure, Ghost is almost always tired as he never seems to know how to take a break- but he hides when he's tired. So when he wears his exhaustion on his sleeve, Simon's at the end of his rope.

After a few minutes, Soap sits beside Simon on the sofa, handing him his tea in his favorite mug. Simon takes the mug but doesn't drink.

"Simon, are you alright?" Ghost nod's but doesn't look at Johnny. Soap sighs, this isn't their first song and dance and he highly doubts it will be their last.

"Did something happen on the mission?" Johnny asked, his voice quiet in an attempt to keep from potentially overwhelming the brit. Again, Simon just shakes his head, his eyes locked onto the mug in his hands.

"You don't have to talk, if you don't wish for it. But remember you can talk to me Simon." Slowly Soap moves his hand to Simon's shoulder, giving the other enough time to pull away if he doesn't want to be touched.

After a moment, Simon looks up. His face is obscured still by his mask, but his eyes say it all. He's beat. But there's something else too, something akin to subtle fear. At first Johnny thinks Simon's mind might be somewhere else, his brain mixing reality and memories into a grotesque concoction. Instead, Simon's eyes are clear as he gazes at Johnny. He's fear is because of Johnny. He's never seen that look directed at him and instantly, Johnny's mind rushes back to every event dating back to when they first met. Did Johnny say something? Do something?

"Simon, love, please talk to me. Whatever it is, you're ok, I won't be angry."

"You didn't do anything." Is the response Soap gets. He nod's ever so slightly, relief flooding through him. He waits for a moment, hoping Simon will continue as his mouth opens and closes under his mask.

"I can't, I just...I can't." Simon whispers, the sound barely audible as it shakes in the air. As much as Simon may tease Soap about his stubbornness, Simon is just as bad as him.

"Why not Simon?" Johnny asks, still his voice remains soft. His eyes search for any sign that Ghost doesn't want Soap touching him. Simon's lip twitches under the mask and his eyes dart to look away. For a moment neither says anything and Soap starts to believe that Simon isn't going to say anything. That is until Simon lets out a harsh sigh and a frustrated sound in the back of his throat.

Once more the Brit meets the Scots eyes, blue and...bright red greeting each other.

The world ceases to exist. Time stops, the world stops spinning and any bout of air in between Ghost and Soap still to a halt.

Simon's eyes are red, bordering on glowing. His pupils are sharp and thin. "Simon?" Soap barely manages to speak over the wave of shock that hit him harder than an atomic bomb.

"I'm sorry, I just can't-..." Simon's face is unreadable as he stands, putting the mug down on the coffee table and starts making his way towards the door. Before Johnny's mind can even catch up, his hand shoots out and grabs a hold on Simon's wrist.

"Johnny, let me go, I'm not-...I need to leave." Simon's voice is quiet, trying to calm Soap as though he were in a state of panic- which isn't far from the truth. But Johnny can't let go, he won't. Not when behind those hungry, piercing red eyes, sits a level of fear Johnny isn't sure he's seen Simon with.

"Talk to me." Soap finally gets the question through his lips, trying to not let the thousand others make their way to the surface.

Ghost pauses in his escape, his eyes locking onto Soaps.

"You're playing with fire Johnny." Simon says slowly, a last ditch effort to try and scare Johnny off. But of course, like every other time, Soap stayed. Always, he will stay.

"Wouldn't ask for anything else, L.T." Soap says, his smirk poking through the confusion and fear. His hand remains wrapped around Ghost's wrist.

A moment passes, then another, when Ghost's shoulder's finally sag as he sighs. Soap smiles and moves to take off ghost's mask, the other allowing it without protest and god, does that never get old. Simon's pale face comes into view, the black eye paint around his eyes further exaggerating the glowing red of his once brown eyes.

Johnny doesn't hide as his face looks over Simon's face, nothing but pure awe and adoration in them. His hand travels to Simon's cheeks, watching as the other leans into the touch. Soap leans in and softly kisses ghost on his lips, soft and perfect. When they finally split, barely moving inches from each other, Simon's mouth is slightly agape, those decidedly beautiful fangs barely poking out from behind Simon's mouth makes themselves known. Cute, is the first word that comes to Johnny's mind when he sees them.

"I'm a monster Johnny." Simon says into the shared air in between each other. Johnny only caresses Simon's face with his thumb.

"I don't much care. You're my Simon and I wouldn't have you any other way, vampire or not."

-

If Soap ends up passing out from blood loss that night, that's between him and the arms that holds him close until he comes to. A thousand apologies on SImon's lips, only to be shushed by a gentle, loving kiss.

fin.

-

Ok what the fuck? How did I do this? How did it get so sappy at the end? I have no clue. Anyway, I love these two so much. Also please ignore that I have no clue how to write Ghost.

[overthinkingbastard]

Ghost/Soap Vampire!AU

Johnny. John wasn’t going to listen, he wasn’t there. Johnny. He wasn't… “Johnny.”

Omg hey hi hello!!! Chapter Eight is ready for you 😄

[resident-idiot-simp]

Love Bites

Vampire Riley who is a recluse after killing his sire (Roba) and has been fighting his instincts ever since. He refuses to let himself be vulnerable in the slightest. The first while away from Roba was an absolute bloodbath the man was undeterred in his feeding, but once placed in the 141 he calmed slightly.

MacTavish takes one look at him and wants to fix it. So he goes out of his way to be welcoming and unintrusive for the new member. Riley's thankful but wouldn't dare reveal that. It goes on like that for months but slowly Riley gets more and more comfortable.

One time the Captain drops by and offers one of his hoodies. (MacTavish had done a lot of research) Riley is unsure but takes it. He can't help but put it on immediately.

Riley is slowly given more and more clothes and doesn't even realize what he's done until it's too late. He made a nest and it's the most comfortable he's been in his life. He is happily purring and he doesn't even notice. All you can smell is MacTavish his Captain his mate his .

He doesn't even realize the possessive nature has already reared its head. He doesn't realize he's slowly trying to reciprocate by rubbing himself against MacTavish whenever he can. But MacTavish realizes what's happening and he can't help the smile that spreads across his face every time.

It all comes to a head when another vampire is dropped on base one day.

The vampire was nothing special however. The creature has the misfortune of getting a bit too close to MacTavish. Testing Riley's limits seeing the claim is what it is. Riley takes it about as well as one can expect from the well-adjusted vampire.

Riley is eating in the mess when he hisses at the soldier showing off his considerable fangs. THEY ARE GETTING CLOSE TO WHAT IS MINE . Riley hadn't even realized what he had done before 141 members were trying to intervene. But Riley didn't take it any better that idiot had challenged his claim he couldn't allow that in good faith.

He stalks forward before MacTavish grabs him. "Stop it's ok Simon."

"NO IT'S NOT THEY TRIED TO TAKE YOUS FROM ME!"

MacTavish blushes slightly liking the way Riley claimed him as his own. "I'm not goin' anywhere but ye can't start fights no matter what the other idiots do."

MacTavish has to drag Riley away to prevent the situation from escalating. They eventually made their way back to Riley's room. As soon as MacTavish opened the door he froze at the sight in front of his. His clothes were all neatly placed around the bed the newest item at the head.

The Captain had to stop himself from commenting just brought Riley to his bed and ordered him to get some rest.

"No, they might try and mark yous again!"

The Captain sighs before offering a different solution. "What if I stayed in here then."

Riley perks up immediately before nodding fervently his mismatched eyes shining. MacTavish chuckles but allows himself to be pulled into the bed.

Riley curls around him rubbing his face against the Captain's neck marking him . Riley doesn't even realize when his face migrates to the junction of the Captain's neck, but MacTavish does.

"Ye want a drink love?"

Riley purrs loudly and MacTavish smiles down at him. "Go ahead Si."

Simon does he laches on and drinks slowly going completely pliant and mindless. MacTavish cannot help but freeze in shock.

Vampires only act like that while they feed If they feed from a sire or close-mate/friend possibly even family.

Riley feeds for some time. It's slow prolonging the experience the intimacy. MacTavish feels floaty himself It's something he could get used to. When Riley finally pulls away full and content he licks the wound sealing it. Riley is purring loudly as he feels himself slowly drifting off.

A few hours later Riley wakes again and freezes as he realizes his predicament and a sudden shocking moment. What the hell had he done? He tries to jump away scramble really MacTavish has an iron grip on him.

The movement wakes the captain as he blinks blearily up at Riley. "Wha' the hell do ye think you're doin'?"  His accent is much thicker with sleep.

Riley flounders how does one answer that question. 'Oh, nothing just trying to run away because I had emotions and I'm not used to that' MacTavish would laugh in his face.

The silence seems to be answered enough, "You're not going anywhere Simon not now that I have ya."

And Riley can't help the surprise chirp that leaves him because what what the hell had he missed?!

The Captain doesn't answer however as he drags Riley back and places himself on the vampire. "Rest I'm still tired"

The next time they awake Riley is more calm his subconscious has somehow managed to comprehend the situation to some degree. He still wasn't sure exactly what was going on he didn't know much about himself in the first place scared to research. Everything just reminded him of Roba.

The Captain patiently answered his questions and soon Riley felt relatively caught up to speed.

He neglected to mention what his mind had dubbed MacTavish but it seemed the Captain already knew.

Over the next week, MacTavish exchanged clothes to give him more of the ones he had worn recently the scent stronger. And if the captain had walked into him buried under a pile of shirts that was something they weren't to mention. Slowly Riley became more comfortable with asking or rather requesting MacTavish to do things for him.

The captain always jumped at the opportunity. Riley had even mustered the courage to ask to feed from him again. It was somehow better than the first time with the Captain scratching the back of his head.

Months passed and slowly the relationship developed well… Relationship was a generous term…

Neither quite knew what was going on but we're both happy to indulge it. It became an unwritten rule of the 141. MacTavish and Riley had a thing of their own unnamed but eternal.

Riley had moved into the Captain's room at some point down the line. They were private with their thing It was still too delicate and fragile to risk anything.

However, It eventually did evolve to the point where he didn't have to be behind closed doors. MacTavish would hold Riley close around the base and rub his body against the vampire.

He would snap his teeth at Riley and get a snap in return. It was courting through and through and anyone who knew anything about vampires knew it.

Slowly ever so slowly Riley would feed in public only around the team. He would place himself in the Captain's lap too just to soak up the heat on the man.

They slept curled around one another and slowly Riley felt safe again

If you are thinking to yourself humm I recognize some of these aspects. Yes Yes you do you recognize it from here I really need to get to writing that

[weepingcheesecakesandwich]

My Tik Tok is : CallSignVampir

[jackactuallywrites]

Thirst for Life

Warning: At the top again! This fic starts with you literally trying to kill yourself! It’s fairly graphic about the how and why too. Also vampires and some non consensual blood drinking and strangely consensual stabbing (also soap is dead).

Pairing: Vampire Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

Rating: Mature (no sex but there’s blood and suicide)

Summary: You’ve slit your wrists and you’re planning on jumping off a bridge, Ghost smells your blood from miles away and investigates

Notes: If you’re gonna if OP is okay the answer is yes. Just horny. 😎

Word count: 1,974

ao3 link

So this was it.

The black waters of the river raged underneath you, a siren song calling your name, beckoning you into their black waves, serenading you with sweet songs of promised peace. The serrated knife in your hands was painted with your blood, your arms still singing with burning pain, the cool air blowing across the bridge doing little to soothe the shallow cuts across your forearms, only serving to make you feel unsteady on your feet, your toes scrunching up inside your trainers as though it would help you grip to the metal fencing any better. Your fingers tightened around the cold metal pole you were holding onto, and you could feel your stomach churn as you looked at the roiling waters of the river. One step. That was all it would take. One step, and everything would be over. All that pain, all the struggle, it would all be left behind on the bridge. You just had to take the leap.

Ghost could smell blood.

Even after all his training and years of denying himself the purest form of the sustenance he needed to survive, he could not deny his instincts. Someone out there was bleeding. Fresh blood, warm, leaking from innocent human veins, and it smelt so fucking good. He could taste it on his tongue already, feel the warm ichor flowing over his fangs and down his throat. Already, his feet were carrying him faster than naturally possible through darkened alleyways, flying towards the source of that delectable temptation, luring him from the path of virtue and back down to hell.

Johnny had been his saviour, his sponsor; every time Ghost strayed from the path of righteousness, Johnny would pull him back from the edge, set him back of the straight and narrow, or point him in the right direction where someone needed to be hurt, let him get his bloodlust out ‘safely’. But Johnny was dead. Shot, at point-blank range. The memory was still strong in Ghost’s brain, replaying every night before he went to bed and every morning before he woke up. He could still remember the look on Soap’s face, the glazed look in his eyes. It hurt. And he knew what could take the hurt away.

Blood.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

Even though you had already planned on your death, you still flinched at the idea of unexpected danger, holding the knife firmly in your hand as you turned around. There was a man, a large man, dressed all in black, from his combat boots to his black balaclava. Even under the thick material of his clothes, you could tell that he was well-built, a tank of a man, but what struck you most was his eyes. They were red.

He approached you, standing less than a metre away, and repeated, “I’m not going to hurt you.” There was no way in hell you were going to trust the man; he looked desperate, a man struggling with demons, looking at you as though you were everything he needed. He came closer again, reaching out for your arms, his red eyes focusing on the blood that had begun to dry on your arms, and you panicked, trying to take a step back, but there was nothing behind you but open air. Your arms windmilled to try and keep you upright, but you were falling, falling back into everything you supposedly wanted, back into the abyss.

Then you were caught.

The man’s hand had reached out and grabbed the middle of your jacket, preventing you from falling backwards, yet you were precariously dangling from the precipice, only saved from certain death by his fingers on your coat. Your free hand reached out to grab his, your fingers wrapping around his thick wrist, both terrified of him yet desperate for him not to let go. With a single jerking movement, he brought you back into safety and danger, pulling you close and forcing your hands to rest on his broad chest. His eyes were still focused on your arms, his pupils growing large enough to almost swallow the red of his irises entirely. Something inside you seemed to feel his danger, outside of the usual fear you got when you saw a shady character, something primal, instinctual, and you flinched away from him, but his hand clenched harder on your jacket, keeping you close.

The knife in your hand had been a method of self-destruction, yet now it was a weapon, and you struggled away from the man, “Get away from me. Please.” He didn’t move, still fixated on your arm, and you tried to pull away from him, but he let out an honest-to-God snarl, inhuman, nothing like you’d ever heard before. Your hands moved swiftly, bringing the knife down into his chest, burying it into his flesh.

When was the last time someone got close enough to stab him?

Ghost couldn’t remember. Usually, he had dispatched his enemies far before they ever got the chance to do so much as land a single blow, yet you had sunk your knife into his chest, piercing his lung. And it felt good. He was so dead, inside and out, but now he was feeling something. Pain. Beautiful, pure pain, a trouble only for the living man. He could already feel the wounds beginning to close around the knife, that slight sinking feeling in his chest already dissipating. And there you were, with that beautiful beating heart, rosy cheeks, and the blood leaking from your arms, delicious and fresh. How long had it been since he’d taken directly from the source? You looked so terrified, your eyes widening, the whites of your eyes pearly and clear, and he could hear how frantically your heart was beating against your chest, a little hummingbird trying to escape your ribcage.

“I am so sorry.”

You were apologising. You’d stabbed him in the chest, and now you were apologising. Everything about you was perfectly saccharine, a delightfully sweet dessert, and he wanted nothing more than to sink his teeth into you and drink you dry.

How. You had stabbed the man in the chest, and when you yanked your hand back, the knife came out black. Black. The liquid was viscous, sticking to the metal, and you looked back at the man. He didn’t look in pain; in fact, he seemed happy. You stabbed him, and he was happy. His free hand had shifted up to your arm, wrapping his fingers around your wrist and placing the tip of the knife back against his chest. His eyes seemed to go almost entirely black. “Do it again.” Your stomach tensed, and your hand loosened on the knife handle. Again? Your words came out in a breathless whisper, “What the fuck.” The man’s voice was a murmur, “Please.” “What is wrong with you?” “I can’t die. You can’t hurt me. Please.”

Regardless of the insanity of your situation, you knew that this man was not one to be disobeyed. You pulled the knife back, then sunk it into his chest, right in the centre, burying it up to the hilt. The man let out a grunt, and his head fell forward, resting on your shoulder. Though you were the proprietor of his destruction, you still panicked, placing your hands on either side of his head and gently lifting it up, “Are you okay?”

Your arms were too close to his teeth. You’d forgotten about the cuts on your wrists, but Ghost hadn’t. The blood was beginning to dry, but it was still so tempting. All he wanted was to turn his head and lap it up like a dog. He could smell it so intensely now, tickling the back of his throat as though he was already tasting it. His thirst was burning him from the inside out, and it had been so long since he’d had a drink. He was a starving dog, and you were a beautifully succulent steak, just begging to be torn into. All that was between you and his teeth was a painfully thick knit fabric. He couldn’t resist. But he had to.

Something in the air had shifted. There was an odd feeling of calm washing over you, hypnotic, luring you into a sense of security that you knew was fake, but you couldn’t resist. The man was turning his head to gently nuzzle against your bloodied arm, the knit fabric harsh against your broken skin. He was pulling up the fabric of his balaclava, revealing his dry skin and the blond stubble that was beginning to turn into a shaggy beard. His cheeks looked sunken, as though he hadn’t eaten in weeks, but he had retained his good looks, a strong jawline and a large, straight nose, though it was marred by a slight bump, a record of where it had been broken some time ago. The whites of his eyes were completely red, and where it was supposed to be coloured, it was black. He was resting his cheek against your arm, pressing his nose against where you’d slit your wrists, his shaggy blond hair falling over his face.

You knew you should have feared him, but you couldn’t. Your fear was being suppressed by something beyond your knowledge, something unnatural. You could hear a quiet snarl as he began to move his head a millimetre at a time, his lips brushing against the dried blood on your arm, his tongue darting out to taste it.

That, it seems, was the nail in the coffin.

The second the dried flakes of blood touched his tongue, he latched on to the cuts in your wrist, the blood flowing once again as he sucked at your wounds. You should have screamed, hit him, run away, but you couldn’t seem to move, held in place by your own freeze response. All you could do was watch in horror as he greedily drank your life force, his dry skin smoothing, his sunken cheeks plumping up, becoming less sallow by the second.

“Please don’t kill me.”

The irony of the sentence wasn’t lost on you; you’d come here planning to throw yourself into the icy waters, and yet here you were, begging for life. You couldn’t help it. No matter how dire things were, there was just some stubborn, human part of you that clung to life with both hands, desperate to survive. Those problems that had seemed insurmountable before now felt so pointless.

He had to stop. He had to, but he couldn’t. He wasn’t strong enough. Every pulse of your heart sent fresh blood coursing into his waiting mouth, and there was no Johnny here to stop him, to bring him back from the edge. Yet, the thought of Johnny couldn’t be ignored. He could hear the man’s voice in his head, loud as a bell, saying just a single word. Enough. Ghost pulled back, his fangs dripping with gore, looking at the bloodied arm and the blood leaking freely from it. His saliva worked well, too well, and now you were at risk of bleeding out, with nothing to clot your blood. All he had to do was let you go; you were suicidal; you’d come here to slit your wrists and leap to your death; he was just letting things take their course.

Then you spoke. Your voice was barely a croak, your mind clinging to consciousness with only enough strength to pray for mercy. A mercy he could provide. He didn’t need to kill; you were innocent, you posed no danger to anyone but yourself. His mind was made up, even if he hadn’t decided whether the idea was good or not, scooping your limp body into his arms and darting off into the night, back to his lair, where he could keep you safe.

[bluegiragi]

smokebreak.

early access + nsfw on patreon monster!AU masterpost

[rawme-price]

Vampire!soap x reader, but ghost has to chaperone😔

Ur beloved boyfriend tends to get really fucking hungry. You dont mind, you keep a decent diet and take iron supplements. However after a very close call when soap got a bit too blood-drunk, ghost takes it upon himself to supervise whenever soap drinks from you.

Only thing is that vampires have natural aphrodisiacs that are allegedly meant to soothe whoever is being bitten. This ofc means that you get insanely horny whenever soap needs to drink, and usually he just fucks you bc he is your boyfriend. The first time ghost is there, you try really hard to stay focused but end up whining anyways "johnny- Johnny please- I need you, please? I dont care- please-"

Soap ends up reaching a hand into ur pants, and you coast by like that. Ghost doesnt say anything, doesnt mention the incident that he got front row seats to at all. The only indication the whole thing wasnt some insane dream is that next time ghost mutters a "you two can...take care of it, however you need."

Which leads to Johnny desperately railing u into the mattress, no doubt getting off on being watched (freak). Ur so, so close, when soaps mouth is pulled away from ur neck, and suddenly hes firmly pressed against the wall. Ur heads spinning just a bit, but you can see ghosts stern look as he ruthlessly jerks soap off, reprimanding him for taking too much.

Anyways ghost gently works u back up, legs hooked over his own to give soap a good view of what he could've had if he wasnt so greedy lol.

[dmitriene]

cw: blood

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

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

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

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

main masterlist. quidelines.

[gomzdrawfr]

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆Happy Halloween⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

[noheadcanons-juststories]

Vampire!141 x fledgling!reader, who was found abandoned and starved first feeding

Soon enough, you allow the 141 to enter. But instead of the door, they come through the window since it was already open. Immediately, the men get to work. Johnny opens all the windows to get fresh air circulating inside the cottage. Simon carries a large duffle bag into the kitchen, its smell vague yet uncomfortably familiar. Kyle takes your bedding to wash, which leaves you freezing. And John gathers clean clothes and towels to prepare a bath for you.

The Captain carefully carries you to the bathroom and sits you on the bath rug. The rising steam grants you little warmth as the water fills up. As it does, John examines your neck, the bite wound on your left side. Healed yet still noticeable. However, it’s a messy bite; like your old sire was trying to take a chunk of your flesh. And you still had some blood that dried on your skin.

The vampire huffs before grabbing a small towel and wetting it, wringing it out afterward. “Bastard couldn't even bother to clean you up,” he mutters to himself as he gently wipes your skin clean with the damp cloth. “Careless…”

“I can clean myself, Mr. Price,” you say as you try to take the towel, but he pulls it away.

“No, don't you lift a finger. You just sit still for now.” He tsks after pressing your hand back into your lap, continuing to clean your neck. “Besides, you need some blood before you can do anything.”

“Ugh…”

Your grimace earns another, lighter exhale from him. “You wouldn't be the first fledgling averse to blood,” he assures you. “Hell, I was the same way at your age. Even if you never taste human blood, you need to drink something. Get something in your stomach so your body doesn't shut down.” There's a knock at the door. “Come in,” he invites whoever's on the other side, tossing the wet cloth into the sink.

The door opens instantly to reveal Simon. He's carrying a mug filled with something your new instincts now recognize as blood. “Got somethin’ ready for her,” he announces, handing the cup to John. Smelling the aroma, he's pleased with the selection.

“Thank you, Simon,” he nods. The liquid inside is gently steaming. It has earthy tones, yet the aroma reminds you of raw meat for some reason. “Now, this is bear blood,” John tells you. “I was first fed this when I was a fledgling. The flavor is nothing like human blood, but it is a nice substitute.”

You take one deep whiff and John sees your pupils expand. However, you still got a sour expression. “The sooner you drink, the better you'll feel,” Simon simply says, hands resting against the bathroom counter. “And luckily we've got plenty of substitutes for you to try.”

Well that explains the bag he carried, you think to yourself. And its smell.

“Can't you just… I don't know, add it into some tea? Or some juice?” you try to plead.

“‘Fraid that won't work,” Simon shakes his head.

“You're in a state where your body would reject human food and beverage,” John explains. “You won't be able to keep it down, sweetheart. Not until you've had some blood in you.”

Your face worsens, and you whimper. “Picky little fusspot, aren'tcha?” Simon says lightheartedly.

“Simon…” John uses a tone that signals the younger vampire to leave. Once it’s just the two of you again, he then turns back to you. “This is the only way to live, fledgie,” he continues as he shuts off the tub's faucet. “Vamps can't go without blood. Not for long. Two weeks at the most, but fledglings need blood the moment they complete transformation. Or else they become skin and bones.” Much like how you are right now. “You wanna avoid death? This is how, plain and simple,” he tells you.

Annoyed, you hiss on instinct, baring little baby fangs peeking out from sensitive gums. Your eyes shrinking are the only sign of your constrained ferality. In mere seconds, you realize what you did, and you quietly apologize for your outburst, staring at the floor.

But John isn't fazed. Doesn't even bat an eye as he chuckles at both your meekness and spirit. “Come here, little bat,” he says while moving closer to you.

He takes place next to you and pulls you closer to his body. His skin isn’t warm, as you expected, but you can feel a heartbeat. Albeit slow. With the mug in one hand, he dips in a finger to merely dab at the surface of blood. Collecting some on his skin and letting the crimson drip to his next finger as he lifts it in front of you. Your grimace is a permanent feature, but your eyes show your obvious hunger. You lean away, but your gaze tracks the blood as it slowly drips down John's fingers.

“It would be a shame to let this go to waste,” the older vampire purred, watching the liquid run down his digits. “Bear blood is hard to come by. Tough beasts to take down, even for a vampire. Takes forever to collect and requires a lot of care to keep fresh. But it’s all worth it in the end.” You watch as his tongue slowly licks up the blood. His eyes change from their bright blue to a faint rusty brown then lazily look over to you.

Your mouth waters as you glance at his lips.

“It’s tradition at my sire's House to share your best blood with your fledglings. And I’d like to honor that tradition with you, fledgie.” He then offers the mug back to you. “Will you let me?”

Your sourness gives way to a hopeful face. You have to remind yourself that Amos called them to be here. Without the worry of the Night Council coming after you. Without him, you’d be a goner. John is taking the time to care for you.

He didn’t have to…

He had his reasons, of course.

He still didn’t have to, but…

You gingerly take the mug into your hands with a sigh. The stuff is like snow cone syrup, but a little thicker. No transparency and darker than red wine. It smells just like you expect blood to smell: a coppery scent, but with a hint of wet stones and petrichor. A slight earthy sweetness, too.

It’s… enticing. But it’s still blood. You bring it to your lips, tip of your tongue touching the contents. But your inhibitions react quicker than your brain can process, and it overrules flavor, getting another hiss out of you.

John didn’t have this much trouble when he first fed Kyle. And John didn’t give this much trouble when MacMillan first fed him. But he chalks it up to circumstances and timing. John sired Kyle himself, and the young man was willing. And MacMillan found John, freshly turned on the battlefield just hours after he was attacked, but better late than never.

You, however, were attacked, fed off of, turned to avoid adding another corpse to someone's body count, then left to fend for yourself for almost a month. No one was here to help you ease into your new life. You didn’t go rabidly hunting like most fledglings did when left unsupervised. A poor soul, afraid to harm anyone. You had more resilience than most newly-turned vamps.

Or perhaps you were just extremely stubborn. Can’t even drink animal blood from a cup. John thinks you're a squeamish little fusspot rather than picky.

Sighing, he opts for an old trick that MacMillan tried on him when he was a youngblood. Taking the mug from you, he sips some of the blood and lets it sit on his tongue.

“Come here, fledgie,” he coos, his voice soft as a zephyr breeze. You're skeptical but scoot closer. “Open your mouth. Trust me.”

You’re hoping he doesn't force feed you by mouth…

You obey, and he leans into your face. His thumb rests below your lip, keeping it open. His tongue swishes around in the blood before he gently blows into your mouth, simply exhaling. You immediately frown, confused by this gesture. “Now close,” he says. “And let it settle.” You oblige, still wondering what the purpose of this action was—

And then, you feel it. Taste it. A strange cornucopia of flavors. Rich and exotic meat, with hints of spearmint and tobacco. And is that chamomile?

It's gross. It's delectable. It's weird.

“How is it?” John asks you.

It's like sampling a cigar. It has you wanting more…

“It's… alright,” you downplay it.

 John's lips only curl up. “Did you like it? Be honest, love.”

“...Yeah, but don't… don't do that again, please.” You aren't so much disgusted by his little trick, but you hope that your cheeks aren't flushed. Pray to some higher power that your pale and sunken face doesn't turn red from the rather intimate proximity.

Once again, John wasn't too fazed, and he swallowed the blood in his mouth. He awaits your answer, “You ready to drink from the mug then?” You nod, taking back the ceramic mug and wanting to get this over with.

Deep breath in, then out. Relax. It’s for your own good, really. Your eyes are shut tight as you bring the other side of the mug to your own lips and slowly sip.

It's delicious. Delectable. Fucking delightful even.

But your humanity still lingers, clinging to you like kudzu. Your mortal mind can't ignore the metallic taste of the “beverage” as you begrudgingly let it settle on your taste buds. The fact that you're consuming blood is putting you off.

“You need to really taste it,” John reminds you. “It’s the only way you’ll get over it.” He can tell you’re about to spit it back in the cup by the face you’re making, and he lets out another sigh. “You really are a fusspot,” he playfully teases you. “Sweet little fledgie just can’t stomach her blood.”

There's another knock at the door. “Everything alright in there?” It's Kyle.

“Come on in, Kyle. Could use your help,” John tells him. The bathroom door slowly reveals the youngest of the 141 peeking in. The steam from the tub immediately greets him, along with you and John on the tile floor.

“Warm and cozy in here,” he says, shutting the door behind him. “Think the water's hot enough?”

John sighs, “Hopefully, it'll still be warm by the time we're done. Fledgie's having trouble drinking.”

“Oh, yeah?” Kyle cops a seat next to you, sandwiching you between him and John. “What's going on, love? Squeamish?” You give him a simple nod.

“I don't get how you guys can drink this without a second thought to where it came from,” you nearly pout as you stare into the mug. The fluid inside seemingly mocking you for your spineless behavior. “It's just…”

“Unnatural?” Kyle finishes for you.

“Yeah.”

The Second Sergeant holds out his hand, silently asking for the mug. Looking inside, only a shadow of his reflection stares back. “It's a big change from human nature,” he says. “One that you’ll have to learn how to get used to because your instincts will only take you so far.” He looks back at you, sanguine flecks dotted in hazel. “You’re very self-disciplined for a youngling. But in order to live, you’ll need to drop your restraints. This blood? It will be your water from here on out. Your lifeblood, so to speak. You wanna not die? Not hurt anyone? This is how.”

He sounds just like his sire…

“You can keep your benevolence even with your humanity gone,” John speaks up. “It’s possible. You’re living proof of that, more or less. But you’re allowed to indulge yourself, too. You got all the time in the world now to do so.”

“You won’t truly live until you’ve done so,” Kyle tells you, handing you back the mug. “Don’t worry about the beginning or the end. Just focus on the here and now.” His fingers brush against your jawline, the touch brief yet intimate. His eyes, now a deep crimson, pin your very being in place. “Drink, little fledgie,” he croons to you, “and enjoy yourself.”

His tone is soft and alluring, pretty on the ears. A song that lowers defenses and speaks to the heart rather than the mind. It’s an invitation instead of a mandate.

Will you take it?

Looking back at the mug of bear blood, you swallow down nothing as you bring the ceramic back to your lips. Slowly tipping it back, the blood flows past and rests on your tongue again. That metallic taste is back, but you ignore it in favor of flavor.

Delicious, delectable, and delightful.

Your body nearly vibrates in pleasure as vitality returns bit by bit. “Is it good?” Kyle asks you.

Your brow gradually relaxes before you take the time to finally swallow, “Yeah.”

He smiles, “Good fledgie.”

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Role Call!: @boy-pussyyy | @kawaii-michealmyers | @oaksgrove

[docdudo]

Vampire 141 - Fledgling!Reader

This was hell.

Actually, you truly believed hell must be kinder than whatever the hell was happening to your body these past few days.

Should you call the support line after all?

And to think it was all your boss’s fault. If that jerk hadn’t made you work overtime and close the stupid convenience store without any warning, maybe you could have found a way to get home safely.

But nooooo...

Now thanks to that, you were attacked on your way home after work.

Attacked in the middle of the night, on a week day, too far from any houses for anyone to hear the commotion.

And it had been a vampire.

You didn’t know much about vampires. Their species was way too mysterious and reserved with outsiders. That’s not to say they didn’t interact with humans—because they did, especially with the wealthy—but it was one of those situations where someone like you would never get the chance to speak with one.

They were high society. Big families that controlled entire cities and states. Like the Mafia or some shit, living in the rich part of town that you had never even set foot in before.

Although, you had heard of vampires appearing here and there sometimes, walking around through the city quietly and discreetly when problems needed to be solved.

Problems like feral vampires.

Loners cast aside from their Covens for one reason or another, now crazed and out of control, following their bloodlust blindly. They killed as easily as any vampire did, even if their only focus was to drink their victims' blood.

Dangerous creatures...

They were rare—incredibly so—since it was the responsibility of the high covens to protect the normal folk from ferals. They rarely appeared in other vampires' territory, fearing the powerful presence of their own kind.

But sometimes...

Sometimes, a new one would appear from far away, starved and crazed like most of them were by that point. And usually they managed to kill one victim before the covens hunted them down to kill them for good.

So it was very important to call the right number to report feral vampires in the area.

Should you have done that? Yes, you should have. You really should have. But you were so. freaking. tired.

You were a college student working part-time at a convenience store. After waking up from your near-death experience, you just couldn’t bring yourself to care anymore. In fact, for a good while after waking up, you even thought you had hallucinated everything. You went home like it was just another night, your mind drifting, more absent than present.

The moment your head hit the pillow, you were out.

But, when you looked at yourself in the mirror the next morning...

You were supposed to be dead. Someone would find your body—drained and wounded—and call the feral hotline. Vampires would show up, deal with the feral with minimal effort, and make sure the area was secured again. That’s just how it goes.

EXCEPT!

You are fucking alive!!

You didn’t even know that was possible—a feral giving up on its prey after pinning it down instead of just killing it for the blood.

It was talking, too—mumbling nonsense by your ear, like it was actually trying to communicate with you.

It bit you, injecting its venom.

Your skin was horribly marked now. The wounds that had once been there had all turned into thin layers of scar tissue. Not the usual kind, but one formed by the venom injected into your bloodstream. The red and black layers against your otherwise normal skin tone made it look like the weirdest tattoo you’d ever seen—like you were a broken porcelain doll with satan himself trying to break free from inside out.

It started at your neck, on your left shoulder, blooming into an ugly, messy bite that was definitely the most obvious problem there.

It went down your left arm and chest, streaks that looked like veins, or cracks.

The artwork was completed by ending on the wounds you’d gotten on your lower body while fighting off the vampire on top of you—scrapes around your hips and legs.

At least you actually searched a bit about vampires after that, panicking hard over the weird markings on your skin. The only and most important thing you needed to know was whether ferals could transform humans or not.

Which, unsurprisingly, they could.

At least, in theory.

They still have their venom, but when they go feral, they usually just want to drink blood from their victims blindly, and the venom is mostly forgotten. There was never a case of a feral actually turning someone into a vampire!

Maybe that feral wasn’t as far gone as the others...

But now, this was somehow your problem! You barely knew anything about vampires', or how they worked in the first place!

What do they even do after transforming someone?

Are you really a vampire now??

Why did you have the ugliest markings all over your body after being bitten, when you’d never heard of vampires leaving markings like this???

And why the hell was your boss still making you go to work after you told him you were attacked late at night last week, the asshole?!?!

Maybe you should’ve specified it was a vampire who attacked you, but you were scared to face what had happened. What had been done to you, and what you might now become. Do you need to speak to vampires now? Are you actually one? You don't even have any fangs or anything different besides the markings...

You had so much to do—so many projects left unfinished for school. You never missed class, not even when you were sick. But now that you’ve become a completely different species…

"Dearie, what happened to you??"

You were startled by the worried voice of an old lady close to you, making you look up from the chip bags you had been staring at for a solid five minutes in the middle of the aisle.

You glanced back at her for a few seconds before turning your gaze to your own body, looking down at your neck and collarbone where the giant marking started, barely hidden by the collar of your work shirt.

"Oh, it's... dunno, a birthmark." You mumble, tired, not really caring much for a better excuse.

You were so tired lately... what the hell even happened? You always had that healthy college student tiredness from working and studying, but it never made your body feel this heavy.

If you were any more weak-minded, you might have just stayed in bed forever.

But then again, college student.

"It doesn't look like one…." The woman squinted, analyzing your neck like it was her fucking business.

Okay, maybe you were also a bit more irritaded than normal.

"Ma'am, it's nothing. Can I help you with something?" You force a smile, though it’s more cynical than polite, as you weren’t really in the mood to be that polite to people who couldn’t mind their own business.

She stared at you for a few more long seconds in complete silence, her eyes squinting as she made that slow, long hum that old people make when they're being casually judgmental.

"That's a vampire thing, isn't it?" A middle-aged man appeared around the corner, his eyes also drifting to your neck as he tilted his head to the side. "It looks like a vampire bite on your neck..."

This guy you actually know—Thomas, from the real estate office nearby—who always comes to buy a snack around this time of day.

"How did you even get to that conclusion...?" You mumble, frowning slightly in annoyance.

"For one, I can see two teeth marks on your neck, clearly. Second, have you not seen the news? There's a feral mosquito zooming around our area. He was spotted last week and still hasn't been caught."

The old lady gasped in shock, eyes wide as she turned back to you.

"Have you been attacked, dear?!"

Well, fuck. So much for ignoring the problem until it couldn’t be ignored anymore.

"I guess..." You shrug, wincing slightly at the pain that shot up your left shoulder from the action.

"You guess?? You should’ve called the hotline if you were attacked!" Thomas frowned, just as confused as he was indignant.

"You don’t get it, I have so much going on right now..." You groan tiredly, already slipping into a depressive mood as you remember all the work you still had to do for your classes.

"What does that even have to do wit—?!"

"Hey, what's with the commotion?!"

You sighed heavily at your boss’s loud voice booming through the store, the balding man approaching with a huffy expression, slightly controlled thanks to the two clients standing with you in the aisle.

"Didn't know you were at the store today, mr. Miller...." You mumble softly, trying to dodge the last subject.

"I wasn’t supposed to be! But we all received a notification—there’s a Coven coming here to deal with the fucking feral!" He grunts, clearly annoyed. "I came to close the store; apparently, those snobby suckers want all businesses closed to make their work easier."

"Oh no, don’t tell me that…" Thomas sighs, suffering, pulling his phone from his pocket immediately to start a call with what you can only assume is his manager, turning away from the group.

"Does that mean I can go?" You ask, raising an eyebrow as you point hesitantly at the glass door.

"Oh, you have to let her go, she needs to go to the hospital...!" The old lady quickly agrees, nodding with the most pitiful look on her face.

"Hey, hey, wait a sec, who said anything about a hospital—?"

"You still haven’t checked the fucking mark consuming your neck? Are you trying to kill yourself, girly??" Mr. Miller interrupts, glaring at you like this situation isn’t part of his fault.

"What the hell? You didn’t give me any days off??" You sputter, indignant.

"I have only you and that stoned kid right now, I can't afford to give any days off! You should go when you have time, like everyone else who works!"

You’re ready to probably yell back at his face when Thomas quickly runs back to the group, a bit desperate as he fumbles with his bags and cellphone.

"They're already here...! I have to go back too!"

"Yeah, I should be going too! Hit me up when you're uptaded, Mr. Miller! Thanks so much, bye-bye!" You say quickly, running out the door after Thomas, your backpack already over your shoulder.

You couldn't even focus on your boss' loud ass voice as you hurried down the street, your head pounding relentlessly. Ever since you got bitten, this had been your reality—splitting headaches, aching muscles, no appetite, itchy gums, and, above all, a bone-deep exhaustion.

To be fair, some of the symptoms were still pretty mild. But deep down, a gnawing fear told you something was off. You could barely wrap your head around the fact that you were actually turning (had already turned?) into a vampire. But feeling like absolute crap made you wonder… what if something was going wrong?

You should call the hotline. You should go to the hospital. Just get it over with—at least get some help. But wouldn’t that change everything? Wouldn’t it make things even more complicated? And what would the all-powerful vampires do with you then?

God, you can’t graduate if you miss too many assignments in a row!

Don’t you have that group project due in two weeks—the one no one in your group has even said a peep about?

A small noise from the other side of the otherwise silent street caught your attention, your head snapping up in alert. The street was empty—of both cars and people, as usual—except for the two men standing by the closed pet store.

And goddamn, these were NOT normal men.

They were dressed strangely, a mix of military style and high-end fashion. Clearly rich. Heavy black clothes with small pops of color, loaded with pockets and belts. Their boots—thick, heavy, the kind that could break your bones with a single kick.

But that wasn’t the weird part...

No, the weird part was how much of their faces they were covering. One of the men wore a heavy jacket, with a hood and beanie pulled up to hide his jet-black hair. A black surgical mask—like the kind you'd see in a hospital—covered his face, and dark sunglasses hid his eyes.

The other… good lord, he had to be around three meters tall. Sure, vampires were naturally bigger than humans, but still… what the hell? This guy was wearing a full veil over his head, black, with suspicious red streaks running down it, and his heavy clothes hid the rest of his body just as much.

They... they had to be vampires, right...?

You flinched when the man wearing sunglasses suddenly snapped his head in your direction. His face was completely hidden, but you could feel the intensity of his gaze. The other man too turned in your direction slowly, now both of them facing you, completely still.

It truly seemed as if time had stopped for a few moments. No one moved or made a sound. You weren’t sure what to do. The ugly markings on your skin—too high on your neck to be hidden by your snug polo work shirt—seemed to burn under their stares.

You can't take this anymore.

Without thinking, you immediately turned around and tried to make your way back to the convenience store, your heart hammering against your ribcage.

But you didn’t even manage to take a single step forward.

"What is this?" the man wearing sunglasses asked, his voice rough and quiet.

You jumped in place, a small hiccup escaping your lips in surprise as you felt heavy hands settle on your shoulders, keeping you still.

How did they get to you so fast?? You were on the other side of the street!

"Fledgling." The other man spoke even more gruffly, tilting his head down to see you properly. His veil was falling forward just enough for you to almost see his face beneath it.

You could distinctly see a red glow beneath it.

"W-Wha—"

Your stuttered words were interrupted by the veiled man's big, heavy hand tilting your head up gently, while his partner unbuttoned your polo shirt, pulling the cloth aside to reveal more of the damaged area.

"Abused by their Sire." The veiled man growled lowly in anger, his voice still mostly quiet as he analyzed the markings. You could clearly hear a distinctive German accent in his words. "Who? It's just our Coven here."

"There were visiting Covens not that long ago." The other one also spoke with an accent—something Asian, it seemed—but you couldn't quite place it.

"Too fresh. This is a just-turned."

"E-Excuse me—"

"This is a grievous sin against nature itself." The Asian man growled, making every hair on your body stand on end. The sound of his growl sent a shiver through you, paralyzing you slightly. "She didn't even complete the transformation."

"Fledgling, who is your Sire?" the German muttered slowly, forcing your head slightly higher so you had to look up at him.

Now they quieted down, letting you speak. Though you didn't really want to right now—not when you didn't understand what the hell they were saying.

"M-My... my what...?" You mumble anxiously, looking up in between both of their covered faces.

...

"Scheißdreck!" The veiled man cursed gruffly, his hands immediately going under your armpits to lift you up as if you weighed nothing, making you yelp in surprise.

"I did think the tribunal was too quiet recently," the Asian guy grunted, his arms crossed firmly as he watched you squirm slightly in panic in the bigger man's arms. "They're gonna love to hear about this."

"And the feral?" the German asked quietly, gently immobilizing you against him, tapping your back in small motions to calm you down.

"The others are here. No matter how smart a feral, they are easy targets. We have more important matters to attend to now. Isn't that right, Fledgling?"

You whimpered slightly in fear and confusion, your head pressed against the taller vampire's shoulder.

"How are we going to deal with this...?" The German sounded slightly calmer now, less aggressive with you in his arms. "This is serious, Horangi, a crime of this caliber..."

"I know, König. The tribunal will deal with that. For now, we keep her close. How about her teeth?"

You felt your body being slightly adjusted to lay more against the big guy's body, his giant hand coming up to your mouth to push his fingers inside it.

"No way!" you hissed defensively, trying to turn your head from side to side to avoid him.

"Shh, Fledgling. You're okay, stay calm. Open up." You let out a grunt in surprise and indignation as Horangi stepped forward, forcing his fingers into your mouth while König held your head in place. "Ha, it's what we thought. A fresh fledgling. Her teeth haven't even fallen out yet." He laughed without humor, shaking his head slightly as he let go.

"F-Fall out?? W-Wait, t-this is...! O-Oh, God..."

You whimpered, getting overwhelmed. This was precisely why you didn’t want to deal with the attack and transformation matter. And a tribunal?? You were so busy, living alone, and you couldn’t miss work—much less miss your classes.

"You are tired, Liebchen. Your body is taking a toll after the bad transformation. Settle, we'll take care of things." He patted your back gently a few times.

"She has a ton of venom in her bloodstream, and she's still awake. Rock her a bit, and she should fall back asleep quickly. I'm calling Laswell."

God Fucking Dammit!!

[multific]

Bound by Midnight

Vampire!Simon Riley x Reader

Summary: Simon has lived in the shadows for centuries, avoiding love, avoiding attachment, until you.

Simon had warned you.

Over and over again, his voice was always low and edged with something close to fear.

Stay away from me. Don’t get too close. I am not a man. I am a monster.

And yet, you never listened.

Perhaps it was foolishness, or maybe something deeper, a pull you couldn’t explain, an ache in your chest that told you to stay. From the moment you met him, you knew that Simon Riley wasn’t just a creature of the night; he was something more. Beneath the mask, beneath the sharp words and cold demeanour, there was a soul.

A heart that had stopped beating long ago, but still longed for something it thought it could never have.

You.

He had tried to fight it. Had pushed you away so many times that you lost count. But you saw through him. You saw how his gaze lingered, how his voice softened when he spoke your name. How, despite every warning, he never truly walked away.

Until the night it all fell apart.

The attack was swift, unexpected. One moment, you were laughing, teasing him about his brooding nature, and the next, you were on the ground, warm blood pooling beneath you.

Your vision blurred, the pain sharp and unforgiving as a rival vampire loomed over you, his fangs stained with your blood.

And then Simon was there. A whirlwind of darkness and rage, tearing the creature apart with an inhuman snarl that sent shivers down your spine even as your body grew cold. You reached for him, your fingers trembling, and the last thing you saw was his face, horrified, desperate, as he cradled you against his chest.

Then, darkness.

And then, life.

A strange, aching hunger clawed at your throat when you woke, the world feeling sharper, louder.

Your heart no longer beat, and yet, you felt more than you ever had before.

Simon was beside you, his hands still cradling you as though he was afraid you would slip away.

His mask was gone, and for the first time, you saw him as he truly was. His sharp jaw was set, his piercing eyes were filled with something you had never seen before.

Despair.

"I never wanted this for you," he whispered, voice hoarse, raw. His fingers curled into your skin, not enough to hurt, but enough to ground himself. "You don’t understand what I’ve done."

You reached up, touching his face, feeling the tension beneath your fingertips. "You saved me."

His jaw clenched, and he shook his head. "I cursed you. I’ve bound you to this life, to me. You’ll never be free of it. Never be free of me."

There it was. The truth that haunted him, the fear that had kept him at a distance for so long. He didn’t hate what he was. He hated the idea of you suffering because of it.

But he didn’t understand.

"Simon," you murmured, guiding his face to yours. "If I had to die that night, I would have died in your arms. But I’m here. And if eternity means being bound to you, then I wouldn’t have it any other way."

His breath hitched, and for the first time since you had known him, Simon Riley looked lost. As though no one had ever told him that he was worth choosing.

Worth loving.

And so you showed him.

You pulled him closer, your lips brushing against his in the softest of kisses, and he shuddered.

He kissed you back as if he was afraid of breaking you, of breaking himself. But as the night stretched on, that fear melted, and something else took its place.

As the midnight hour reached its peak, Simon led you to the centre of the dimly lit room.

Music played softly from an old record player in the corner, and though he was never one for softness, he hesitated before offering you his hand.

A slow smile spread across your lips as you took it.

The two of you danced, moving through the shadows like ghosts, yet feeling more alive than ever. His hands were steady now, his grip no longer one of fear but of something deeper.

For the first time in centuries, Simon Riley wasn’t alone.

He pulled you closer, his forehead pressing against yours as you swayed in the dark. "I don’t deserve this," he whispered.

"You do," you whispered back. "You always have."

And as he held you, as the stars outside shone down upon the two of you, Simon finally let himself believe it.

Because for the first time in his long, cursed existence, he had something worth living for.

And he would never let you go.

~Masterlist~

ˇAO3ˇ

Wattpad

/DO NOT TRANSLATE, STEAL OR REPOST ANY OF MY WORKS TO THIS OR OTHER PLATFORMS/

[overthinkingbastard]

Idk if you all know this already, but uhhh you can make your bookmarks private. And also you're not obligated to read a genre you don't like 😭

I'm not writing a book, loves, you're not paying for my work... if you don't like it, just scroll, yk?

My intention was never to write a colorful love story. That's why I chose vampires! Vampires are bloodthirsty monsters, so obsessed with those who pick their interest it's hard to differentiate love from hunger. They're sexy and dark. As far as I know, it's always been like this. Even Twilight shows this.

I mean, yeah, I could write the healthiest relationship ever – I'm actually doing exactly that in the book I've been working on for the past few years –, but then it wouldn't be tasty, would it? 😔

Anyway. Although it might not seem like it after I wrote all this because of a bookmark, I take criticism seriously and always try to do better when someone says something valid. There's no need to call my work pathetic, however.

[machveil]

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

he is your husband of four years

[amazeingartist]

lil vampire snacky time

[swordsandholly]

Fancy

Ch 2: Just Be Nice to the Gentlemen, Fancy

Previous | Next | Ao3

NSFW | MDNI

Vampire! Poly 141 x Fem! Plus Size! Reader

Word Count: 7k

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is what it is. Life goes on.

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

TWO DEAD: LOWER THIRD STREET - BOTH EXSANGUINATED

DISAPPEARANCES CONTINUE TO GROW IN NUMBER IN THE FRENCH QUARTER

ONCE AGAIN THE CITY COUNCIL OVERRULES SUIT FOR HUMAN REPRESENTATIVE CHAIR

UNIDENTIFIED SUBSTANCE FOUND IN JANE DOE

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

Nothing is new under the constant night.

Life goes on.

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

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

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

“You stole my clients!” She shrieks.

“I- what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I don’t-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re a dog, Mr. MacTavish.”

“Och, ye wound me, lass.”

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

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

Top dog gets the chew toy.

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

“Suits not your style?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff. “Me?”

“You’re a smart girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What kind of problem?” John demands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A promise.

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

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

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

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

“You just got here.” You murmur.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cheeky bastard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You settle on a gentle “Maybe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fucking Christ.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gettin’ old, Johnny?” Kyle quips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then again, maybe you’re just cock drunk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-you don’t have to-“

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

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

“Johnny behave himself?”

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

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

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

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

“You do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

Okay.

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

These men are going to be the death of you.

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

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