#vampire fan fiction

[heartiella]

[monstrousorchids]

THE NIGHTBLOOMER | read on AO3 "All being was once created to unbe." — J.C. Bloem

SYNOPSIS — Edward Cullen, who has long abstained from human blood, maintains the quiet façade of a high school teenager in the woefully damp and dim Forks, Washington. But the fragility of his cultivated existence quickly becomes clear with the arrival of Liana d’Adamo, who has been led back to the town of her childhood with the passing of her grandmother. The life of whom death seems to shape, she is just in time for Junior year and a series of fatal attacks occurring throughout the state.

[anyataylorjoys]

VAN HELSING —2004, written by Stephen Sommers

[dadddybangtan]

the bulk of the writing for suck torture is complete. i just need to spruce/fluff up the last three chapters and it’s done. i can’t believe i made it :,) thank you for reading

[starlightsalvatore]

hunger / damon salvatore x reader

i'm back !!! I needed to write a damon one-shot while I work on a new fic and this just tumbled right out of me lol

hunger / damon salvatore x reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: everything??? drinking, swearing, blood sharing, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected p-in-v, a tiny bit of degradation?? this is self indulgant filth, seriously 18+ mdni

You ran a hand through your hair as you walked back and forth, unsure of what else to do with the restless energy surging through your system as you tried to fight one of your most basic, primal urges… hunger. Your fingers drummed against your thigh as you tried to focus on anything else, find something in your brain worth occupying your mind and switching course from the visuals running through your head. Your recent transition had been a shock to everyone, and Stefan had you on a tight leash to keep you in check… and you’d been on board, at first. You never wanted to cause harm, to be the reason someone else’s life ended, but with the itch in your veins threatening to undo you completely you couldn’t really find it in you to care anymore.

You heard your door push open and your head snapped up to see Damon walking in, two glasses and a bottle in his hand with an unamused expression, “if you don’t knock it off I’m going to have to replace the floor,” he said, setting everything on the dresser before pouring two generous cups of bourbon. 

“Not now, Damon,” you sighed, ignoring him entirely as your feet remained on course.

“Wanna talk about it?” he asked and you shook your head.

“Not really,” you said as he shoved a glass in your hand, his eyes telling you to drink which you did… all in one gulp and he was a little surprised as he took it to refill. 

“Well, something’s gotta give,” he replied as you finished the second as quickly as the first. “At this rate the bottle will be gone in a minute and I’m not replacing original flooring.” He gripped your shoulders, halting your movements and you huffed, looking up at him.

“I’m hungry, Damon,” you said, as if it pained you to do so and he furrowed his brow.

“The freezer is full- oh,” he cut himself off, realizing that’s not what you meant as a smirk spread across his features. “You want your blood at 98.6,” he said and you rolled your eyes, pushing him off you.

“Will you cut it out?” You poured another glass, hoping at some point the alcohol would subdue your cravings but you knew that was about as likely as him leaving you alone, so you tried another angle. “I can’t… Damon, the blood bags aren’t doing it for me, I can’t think, I can’t sleep… will you please take me out?” For a moment you thought he’d say yes, revel in the opportunity to feed with abandon with someone else, but it wasn’t that easy.

“No can do, sweetheart,” he replied and your brows pinched. “I’ve got enough on my plate without you losing control and giving me more bodies to deal with.” He was right, there was too much going on and you spinning out wasn’t an option, but that didn’t make it any easier of an answer to tolerate. He gave you a once over, it wasn’t as if he didn’t want to take you out… he would have loved to, but you were new and he knew you could eventually get to where he was, one day you’d be able to feed and leave them alive with no memory of what had happened, but that day wasn’t today, you had a long way to go and he couldn’t afford to have you slip up.

But… he couldn’t afford to have you slip up. One look told him you were wound tight, the diet Stefan had you on was restrictive, never enough to fully satisfy, and the less you drank the tighter you spun, threatening a catastrophic snap he could only assume was looming on the horizon with how frustrated you looked right now. He ran through his options, knowing letting you sit in this hunger any longer would result in a much bigger problem, but the only thing he could think of posed another set of issues and would lead to him teetering on the edge instead of you.

He let out a sigh, closing the distance between you and plucking the glass from your hands to discard on the dresser and you looked up at him questioningly, the invasion of space catching you by surprise. His normally bright eyes were dark and swimming with something you couldn’t understand, deep blue pools you found yourself getting lost in as you waited for him to say something. “You need to feed,” he said and your eyes fluttered shut just at the thought.

“I need to feed,” you whispered and he nodded, catching your chin between his fingers and forcing your head back up when you tried to look down and the action had your breath catching somewhere in your throat. 

“You still haven’t felt it, have you?” he asked, voice low and you shuddered. “What it’s like to sink your teeth into something…” you shook your head, Stefan hadn’t allowed you to drink anything that didn’t come from a cup. “Poor thing,” he chuckled, he could feel the tension radiating off you in waves, you were practically shaking beneath him as you fought to retain your grip on your sanity, on your control.

“Damon,” you sighed, eyes pleading and he just smiled as he gripped your hand and brought it up to his neck, the pulse beneath your fingers driving you wild. 

“When you feed you have to be careful… if you bite just along here,” he said, dragging your fingers along the vein, “you can control the flow. It doesn’t have to be messy,” he explained and you couldn’t tear your eyes away from the subtle way his skin moved with each beat of his heart, the sight bringing the veins beneath your eyes to the surface, your fangs descending.

“Don’t fight it,” he said, noticing you trying to rein it in, and you were having a hard time focusing on anything with the way his hands were trailing up your arms, pulling you closer. “Go on,” he tilted his head just slightly, “give it a try.” he encouraged and this pulled your focus, eyes snapping to his as you tried to ascertain if he was being serious. You had a lot left to learn, but blood sharing was personal, and you knew that… but all you saw in those dark blue eyes was a fire simmering beneath the surface you were sure was a mirror image of your own.

You slowly reached onto your tiptoes, as if he were a deer in the woods threatening to startle and bolt, but the closer you got the harder it was to resist, anticipation burning through your veins at the prospect of giving in. Your fangs were tentative as they broke the skin just where he’d indicated, but the first drop of blood immediately made you feel dizzy and intoxicated… It wasn't enough. You quickly grew feverish, your hand wrapping around his throat as you surged forward, crashing into the wall behind you and he let out a grunt as his back collided with the hard surface, pinned in place as you fed.

“There you go… that’s it,” he said, leaning back as he relaxed and let you take what you needed. His arm snaked around your waist while a hand brushed the hair from your face, cradling the back of your head as warm blood radiated through your body. A soft groan fell from his lips as you drank from him, and the sound elicited an unexpected reaction from you, your hand tightening around his throat and your body pushing flush against his and despite everything in you telling you to continue, you forced yourself back knowing if you didn’t stop you’d bleed him dry. 

Your eyes were wild and satisfied as they met his, and he dragged his thumb across your bottom lip, collecting the remnants and you were almost surprised when your lips wrapped around him, ensuring you didn’t waste a single drop. His smirk returned when he felt your tongue slide across his skin, “better?” he asked and you nodded, keeping him in your mouth for maybe a second longer than you needed to. The air was charged between you, you’d just crossed a line in the sand and you wanted to push a little further, go a little farther… 

Part of him knew he should put an end to this… stop before it went any further. He knew it before he’d even offered up a vein for you, he knew as soon as he did he’d be teetering on this ledge and he didn’t have that much self control when it came to you. Perhaps, if he really analyzed the situation, he knew somewhere in the back of his mind why you’d been so worked up, he knew what you needed and instead of letting you wreak havoc on the blood cooler he let you push him against a wall and take what you wanted, he let you feed from him in the most intimate way he could think of. 

And when you were looking up at him like that, eyes mischievous and holding an unspoken challenge with his blood still on your plump lips, who was he to resist? Your chest was heaving with anticipation as you waited for him to do something, anything, and the movement was so fast you almost didn’t register his hand curling around your throat, flipping you around and slamming you against the wall with such force you were sure you’d be dead if you were human. Your gasp of surprise was swallowed by his mouth on yours, searing and frenzied as he connected your lips and kissed you with a hunger that rivaled your own only moments ago. 

You both fought for dominance, neither one of you willing to submit just yet but you were outmatched… he grabbed your wandering hands and pinned them above your head, grip so tight you whined as he kissed down your neck, biting into you the same way you’d done with him and you couldn’t help the moan that fell from your lips as he did. Your hips rolled forward and feeling his hardening length against you gave you the surge of confidence you needed to break your hands free, sliding down his chest to pull his shirt apart, buttons flying and clattering against the floor as you pushed the fabric over his shoulders. 

His lips were greedy across the expanse of your chest as he nipped and sucked the soft skin, tearing your shirt to shreds as he pulled it from you, a mess of fabric in your wake as you surged forward and pushed him into the wall opposite you, regaining your upper hand. Glass shattered on the floor around you as the force rattled the dresser but you couldn’t find it in you to care what had broken as your hands pulled his belt free, fingers quickly undoing the button as you sank to the floor and pulled his jeans with you.

His length stood erect in front of you and you were quick to take him in your mouth, focusing your tongue on his swollen tip as your hand worked what didn’t fit, and you couldn’t help but moan around him at the groan that fell from his lips, “such a good girl,” he cooed, his sweet words undercut by the harsh hand in your hair gripping and pulling you closer, forcing you to gag around him and the sensation had his head falling back against the wall. Tears sprung to your eyes at the sharp pain in your scalp and the way he was hitting the back of your throat, but all you could focus on was the throbbing between your thighs and he didn’t miss the way you clenched them together, desperate for friction. 

You were quickly on your back, too caught up in the moment to bother moving to the bed and you pushed glass aside as he settled between your legs, tearing your underwear off and diving in like a man starved and you could feel his smirk against you at your surprised moan, head hitting the floor as your back arched in pleasure. He switched between your clit and your entrance, not giving either attention long enough to give you what you really needed, and you whined as your fingers threaded through his hair, tugging harshly.

“Damon, please,” you sighed, hips bucking against his face and he focused his attention on your sensitive bundle of nerves, tongue expertly working you up as you shamelessly moaned his name. Somewhere in the back of your mind you knew with the way you kept slamming each other against walls and the floor, the breaking glass, and the sounds falling from both your lips someone might come to make sure you were alright, but you couldn’t find it in you to care… not when he felt as good as he did between your legs. 

Your moan changed in pitch when he slid two fingers into your entrance and it went straight to his cock, his head swimming as he watched you come close to falling apart above him. When he crooked his fingers just so your grip in his hair tightened, pulling him closer as you started to grind against him, “fuck, just like-” you were cut off by your own moan when he started massaging that spot inside you, legs trembling as you careened off the ledge. His touches remained merciless as pure euphoria surged through your veins, your head cloudy as your body trembled. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he muttered against you, kissing his way up your body and you tugged him closer to reconnect your lips, tongues swirling against each other as you tasted yourself on him. His hands felt greedy and possessive as they roamed over you, gripping tight enough to leave bruises that would heal before they even had a chance to form, and it was as if neither of you could get enough. You pushed forward, tugging him up with you and all but throwing him onto the bed and his smirk was devilish as he watched you crawl on top of him.

He looked like he was about to say something but you didn’t give him the opportunity as you kissed him, rough and demanding as your hips settled above his, hand reaching between you to line him up at your entrance and you both let out groans as you took him inch by inch. The stretch was sweet, filling you almost to your breaking point as you settled fully and started to roll your hips against him, shuddering at the feeling.

“Fuck,” he moaned as you started to bounce up and down, setting an unforgiving pace and you felt like you could feel him everywhere, every nerve ending radiating with fire. He sat up to wrap his arms around you, hips bucking to meet yours in a way that had your head rolling back and he took the opportunity to sink his teeth into your neck and you had never felt pleasure like this before. His hand was firm around your throat as your body shook with each thrust and soon you were boneless in his lap, only able to hold yourself upright as he drank you in. 

When he pulled back you licked along his lips, face changing at the taste of blood and he swore he’d never seen anything sexier. Neither of you was going to last much longer, not like this, and he delivered a rough smack to your ass that had you whining and rolling against him. “Oh my god,” you breathed out, letting your forehead fall against his and he smacked again, gripping the tender skin, “Damon-” you tried, but nothing would come out.

“What’s that, sweetheart?” he teased, gripping your hair and pulling you back to look at him, “oh, look at you… all cock drunk and fucked out,” he teased and you had nothing to say as a firm thrust had you seeing stars. You buried your face in his neck, fangs sinking into his skin as you felt your release barreling towards you, the mixture of blood and his steady thrusts too much to bear and a streak of red trailed down your body as you came, only able to shout his name as you cried out.

Your grip on him was maddening, pulling him right over the edge with you as you milked him for everything he had, and when you both slowed to a stop you were having a hard time catching your breath, your mind floating somewhere above you as you tried to return to your body. You felt his tongue along your chest, cleaning up your mess as you leaned back and he tried to commit the sight to memory… your hair wild, cheeks flushed, and skin dewy as blood lingered along your skin. 

You still weren’t fully with him, stuck in a haze as you felt him whisk you into his bedroom, and into the bathroom and it wasn’t until you were under the stream of water with him that you hummed contently against his lips as he kissed you softly, “there she is,” he chuckled.

His hands were delicate as they roamed you, and yours slid down the front of his chest as you looked up at him, doe eyed and happy. “That was…” you trailed off, unsure of what word to use to fully sum it up and he placed another soft kiss on your lips.

“Everything you ever dreamed of?” he provided and you laughed as you swatted his chest. 

“Hush,” you replied, feigning annoyance but you didn’t have it in you to feel anything other than bliss. The rest of your shower was spent with wandering hands and sweet kisses, a stark contrast to how rough and domineering you’d been with each other and when he pulled you into bed and wrapped himself around you, you looked up at him as your fingers trailed along his chest absentmindedly.

“What are you thinking about?” he asked, and you flushed slightly under his gaze.

“It was more than I dreamed of,” you answered, and he raised a brow in question. “I haven’t… I hadn’t done that since turning, I didn’t know it could be like that,” you explained and realization passed over his features.

“My god,” he chuckled, “no wonder you were wound so tight.” His hand on your back was comfortable, holding you tight against him as he rubbed soothingly, “we’ll go on a little trip this weekend,” he said as you rested your head on his chest.

“A trip?” 

You felt him nod, “away from all the chaos here… we’ll find you some warm bodies and I’ll teach you how to do it the right way, you don’t have to live a life of blood bags forever.” 

“I don’t know, you seemed to do the trick,” you teased and he laughed.

“Sweetheart, you have no idea what you’re missing.” 

[anaugust]

The game's name is lesbianism and I'm loosing.

[aquarines]

lestat de lioncourt being cancelled by taylor swift fans on twitter only 24 hours after he debuted...can you name a more iconic vampire? absolutely not!

[blackleatherjacketz]

Shadow and Sin

Klaus Mikaelson, Elijah Mikaelson x Female Reader

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

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Final Chapter

[carolmunson]

you get me closer to god | kas!eddie (dark)

entry for my fall frenzy requests. this request comes in from @edsforehead: 'something with kas!eddie in a graveyard.'

a/n: y'all, i don't know. i kind of snapped with this one. sort of canon compliant. inspired by a post that i saw that said that after vampires feed they have an insatiable desire to breed afterwards. steve also makes an appearance cause i love him.

tw: 18+ MDNI, dub-con, dub-con, dub-con (reader does get into it). use of hypnosis, coercion. blood play, blood drinking, biting. very obvious power dynamics at play here. death of minor character mentioned. p in v smut, rough and sensual. oral (f-recieving), monster-type-fucking. mild chasing trope. some religious elements if you squint??? anyway i listened to closer by nine inch nails on a loop for this if you wanna know the general vibe. let me know if there is anything i missed and need to put on here!

October 31st, 1998

Your niece had a better haul than you ever did at this age, it seemed like every house on the fancy side of Hawkins was giving out full size candy bars. No one ever gave you full size candy bars. The Harrington's had outdone themselves this year, hoards of kids picking out wrapped caramel apples and passing out spiked cider to the parents. Humming and smiling while the adults hugged their parkas to their chests, kids running up and down the stairs of the cul de sac of Hawkins Mansions. Decorated to the nines -- you were happy that most of the street would tire her and all of her friends out. "Auntie!" she calls out, hurrying over to you while her pink and purple puffer coat swishes with her. Alycia glitters against the lights of the houses in the dark of the night, the red sequins on her leotard making her easy to find. Your sister-in-law made her a headband fitted with red horns with a pointed tail sewn into the back of the red tu-tu from her Spring recital to match. A Dancing Devil she called it -- for newly six, she was a pretty creative little bug.

"Auntie look," she yells, running into your legs. The spiked cider sloshes in your cup that you hold high over her head so it doesn't spill onto her. She holds up a decorated caramel apple covered in eyeballs made out of sugar.

"Gross, Leesh," you giggle, "It's got eyeballs all over it!"

"They're fake eyeballs, Auntie," she explains like you're stupid, "They're not real eyeballs."

"Oh, thank you for telling me. I didn't know," you giggle, catching Steve watching the two of you chat. Your cheeks burn, that crush from when you were fourteen and he spent the summer working at the mall never fully fading. He's married with four kids now so you should probably get over it. "How're things?" he asks from the curb, coming over to sneak Alycia a couple of Reese's cups. "They're good," you shake your head with a shrug, "They're fine. Out here with the rugrat while her mom's at work." "How's the family, your mom?" he presses, arms crossing over his broad chest that stretch the sleeves of his tan workwear jacket.

"She's doin' okay," you smile tightly, "Always a little hard for her this time of year."

"Five years now, isn't it?"

"To the day," you say with a lilt, "Gonna go visit him after I drop her with her grandparents. My dad'll be so thrilled to steal half her stash."

Your laugh is a little hollow when he squeezes your shoulder comfortingly, he slips a candy bar into your hand, too before saying his goodbyes -- set of twins running around his ankles.

Hawkin's bravest fireman somehow off duty on a night like this turns before you take your niece's hand to leave, "Be careful out there at night. You know it's not always safe."

"You don't believe in all those rumors, do you Harrington?" you laugh.

"Don't have to believe them or not," he says seriously, pushing his wire rims up his nose, "I know they're not rumors."

"Happy Halloween, Steve," you say dully, "Goodnight." You both wave, Alycia's little hand in yours while she rattles off a million words a minute about the skeloton outside of the Sinclair house. The moon glows down over the street, dark clouds slicing it like a broken plate.

You rarely visit your brother on the day of, especially since there's always idiot teenagers running around the place. Not exactly easy to mourn when some loser in a Scream mask keeps trying to scare you.

It was quiet, your Docs crunching on mid-fall frosty grass -- some of it already half dead with the season. Commotion from the town in the distance had dulled into mostly nothing now that the kids had turned in for the night. Families turning their porch lights out, settling in for scary movies and sugar highs.

You squeeze the bouquet of baby's breath and eucalyptus a little hard in your hands when you walk through the tombstones. The low lamps along the walk way casting the grass and asphalt in a looming orangey glow -- not offering much light beyond their posts. The moon does the work, still looking shattered amongst the thin gray clouds sliding through the sky.

You hear some giggling, the rustle of leaves, the snap of twigs. Always an outlier of kids doing spells or a Ouija board out here this time of year -- old Chief Hopper coming down to make them scatter and take their weed. You walk off the path when you get a decent way in, crossing away from where the cemetary mostly turns to forest. Four 'Happy Birthday To Yous' into the brush and then a left, two head stones, then a right -- it's the third headstone on the fourth row. No light to shine down on you this time, just whatever's left in the sky. You take your big yellow scarf off from around your neck to lay over the grave, giving yourself a place to sit so your spandex covered thighs didn't have to touch the grass. Your mom would kill you if you got grass stains on the red trench she let you borrow -- a makeshift Carmen Sandiego costume if anyone asked.

You sit, laying the bouquet right at the granite edge, tracing his name before letting your hand drop. You don't say anything for a while, letting the cool wet air run over you in waves. You wonder if the wind blowing is him saying hey.

A few cemetery patrons come by, pay their respects to their loved ones and leave. Some superstitious, some religious. They fade out after a while. The loneliness is comforting, just you and your brother hanging out together like before. Despite being six years apart, it felt like you both always had some weird wonder twin telepathy. He was never really one for a lot of words.

"Didn't that guy tell you not to come around here so late?"

You jump at the sound of an unfamiliar voice, turning around to see an even more unfamiliar person. Wild curly waves messy around his face, cut in 80s shag perfection. His face chiseled, jawline pronounced with soft stubble, soaked in fake blood. It trails down his neck and stains the white of the baseball tee underneath a leather jacket; fitted over top with a battle vest that rivaled the metal heads of the 70s.

"Who're you, huh? You following me?" you ask. You swallow nervously, finding solace in seeing a few other cemetary visitors mosying around. The faint giggle of more mischeif causing teenagers in the distance.

"Sorry," he laughs, a warm laugh that meets his eyes, "Didn't mean to scare you. I um, I saw you over by the cul de sac, overheard him say somethin' to you. I was with my little cousin -- dressed like a mermaid, I don't know if you remember."

You think back to Leesh's pal of trick-or-treaters, scanning them in your head to recall a little girl with big brown eyes and a makeshit Ariel costume on under her jean jacket -- covered in patches much like his.

"Yeah," you smile, "I remember. But that didn't answer my question -- are you following me?"

"Nah," he grins, shaking his head, "I'm visiting someone -- this was just a happy accident."

"Oh," you respond quietly, "Who're you visiting if you don't mind me asking."

"My mom," he shrugs, scrunching his nose, "Halloween was her favorite holiday so I always try to come say hi."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you offer in condolences, "Did you um -- did you grow up here? I feel like I'd remember you."

"Nope," he sighs, shoving his hands in the pockets of his jeans while his wallet chain jingles next to his thigh, "Grew up with my uncle."

"Oh, nice," you nod, "Well um --"

"Who're you visiting?" he interrupts, sitting on the gravestone next to your brother's; hardware tinkling prettily as he does.

"Pete," you say, hand out to gesture towards the shiny granite in front of you, "My brother."

"Nice to meet you, Pete," he turns his head, curly hair flouncing over his shoulder, "Pleasure."

You laugh, he laughs with you -- you have to laugh about it or else you'd have to deal with the alternative. You're pretty sure you're all cried out about your brother now.

"What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"

"He worked construction," you shrug, "Took an overnight shift five years ago by the quarry, an' it was Halloween so he was workin' by himself -- no one to spot his safety gear. Must've fallen off the rigs or something and since it rained a lot that year the quarry was basically a lake at that point, hit his head and drowned. His body was completely banged up and waterlogged, they could only ID him from his pass in his pocket."

"Shit," he nods, "That's -- that's fuckin' awful. I'm sorry."

You shrug, "Bitch of living, I guess."

"Hm," he nods, "I wouldn't know."

"What do you mean?" you ask with a cocked head, eyes lingering on him while his linger on you. "Don't worry about it," he smirks, the kind that makes your heart flutter; cheeks getting hot at the sound of his voice. "You know something," you start, "With this whole get up -- and you're not from here so you might not know -- you look just like --"

"Eddie Munson?" he asks, with raised brows, "Yeah, my aunt's been telling me that forever. That's why I sorta dressed up like him for Halloween."

"That's dangerous around Hawkins, especially this time of year," you warn him, standing up from your spot and picking up your scarf. You shake it out to get some of the grass of the underside. You hardly notice the way his eyes trail from your shoes over your calves to your thighs.

"Some people say that he went right to hell after that earthquake since he killed that girl," you explain, shrugging the trench off some to fit the scarf on under it, "And now he's a demon that haunts Hawkins and terrorizes the town."

You both laugh, though his drops to a low and guttural hum. Nearly a growl. You lift your head to see him just a foot in front of you now, and you can really look. You can really see him. The paleness in his skin, tendrilled navy veins raising through it as he leans close to you.

At this distance it's clear that the hollowness in his eyes isn't makeup, but the sparkling brown is sunken into his skull. His brows darkened and determined while he looks at you.

At this distance, it's clear that the blood on his jaw is real.

"They're close," he says with a sly smile, "Really should've listened to Harrington, sweetheart."

You swallow hard, icy sweat in a film on your body while he takes a step forward.

"Those rumors are true."

The icy air shreds your throat as you run, heaving it in and out in gasps. Your calves scream, thighs aching while you sprint through the brush of the forest; trench and scarf long forgotton somehwere amongst the trees. You try to ignore the way twigs and branches swipe at your face, slicing you and scratching you with unforgiving whips. You let out a cry while you speed, leaping over roots and piles of leaves all while trying to listen with peak percision. Is he close? Is he getting closer? Can he see you?

You stop behind a log near a dip in the earth, rocks above it. Climbing in you heave, trying to catch your breath -- you aren't really made for this. You don't know how girls in the movies can run that long without needing a break.

With a deep inhale in, you hold, using the quiet to try and hear him but there is nothing to be heard. No rustling, no creaks in the wood or in the wind.

You catch your breath, slowly creeping out of your hiding space while the darkness hones -- trees blocking out some of the moonlight. You take a step and then another, trying to make as little noise as possible.

Your efforts are of no use though -- you stomach turns at the sound. The flap of wings, leathery wings -- big. A shaky breath in gives you the courage to turn your eyes up. On one of the taller branches above you he sits, pale and domineering, "Hi, sweetheart."

You bolt again, depserate and sobbing while the cold air is no longer a hello from your brother but mother nature's cruel bite on your wet cheeks. You can barely take in breaths without pain in your throat and chest, turning left and right and left again to lose him but from above he can predict your every move.

When you hear silence again you take another turn, a mausoleum broken down a short distance away. You crawl your way in, wet earth and cement hitting your nose while you gasp and heave for the second time. You listen for the wings for moment, a few moments -- a calm washing over your back when you're sure he's gone.

You take a step back further into the darkness to be sure you're unseen. Deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth. One, twice, three times.

Another step back and you bump into a pillar making you jump, a screech wrenching from you.

Not a pillar no, not by the way a set of claw bites into your shoulder.

"Would've been a good hiding spot if it wasn't for me finding it first, right?" he quips, "Bummer." "Y-you can't d-do this," you cry, "The r-rumors are true they'll -- they'll look for me! Steve knows about you!"

"Oh, babe, that's so cute," he muses with a giggle, "Why do you think I'm still here, huh? Steve's just like me, he's bitten too."

"B-but--"

"Why do you think he believes in all those rumors, huh baby?" he asks with a lilt, "Cause he's one of 'em. Well -- not all the way, I guess. Not like me."

"He blows my cover he blows his whole operation," he grins, sharp teeth bearing themselves at you, "Why d'you think he only works night shifts?"

"I -- don't -- I don't," you sputter, "Pl-please d-don't bite me, d-don't eat me I -- I'll do whatever."

"You're too funny," he says in your ear, deep and grizzly while you're rooted to the spot under his clutch, "I already ate, sweet girl. But you'll make a fine dessert."

You don't know how you get there but it's not like home -- it is but it isn't -- dark and deadly; covered in slithering vines. You're too petrified to ask; but whatever this place was, despite the spores in the air and the rubble from the walls -- it was much nicer than the trailer he grew up in.

"Shh, shh, shh," he coos, claws deep in your shoulder while he wrenches you to a bed covered in plush linens -- satin and full. In the blur around you it could almost be a movie set; the booms of red lightening, dripping pillar candles in heaps around the room.

You whimper at first when his claws release, hot blood oozing against your sweater. The pain pulses like a dull thud, spit flooding your mouth while you move to your side to wretch but he catches you by the root of your hair. You wail in fear, smelling the decay in his breath, the sweet subtle rot of your surroundings.

"It's not polite to cause a scene in a stranger's home, right princess?" he asks with a soft lilt. He holds your gaze, warmth spreading over you when he smirks again -- and despite your fear, you can't look away. You aren't even sure if you want to look away.

Your body goes slack on the comforter, melting into itself like a dropped marionnette. "Very good," he purrs. Hazy, you feel his hands on you -- losing their warmth while they sneak under the hem of your sweater. The pads of his fingers are soft in comparison to the tips of his nails, grazing your stomach and sternum before reaching up to cup your breasts. He lets out a shallow breath, squeezing the delicate flesh softly in his palms -- so gentle despite his rough demeanor.

His thumbs graze your nipples in slow circles earning him a mewl from your dry throat.

"So easy," he giggles in a whisper. You nearly pout when his hands slide down and away from you; beginning the unhurried removal of your clothing. He moves glacially, eyes remaining on yours, wraiths of whispers in a lanuage you don't understand fluttering in the air around you -- in one ear and out the other. Part of you wants to scream and thrash while he slides off your spandex, rips the seams of your panties, destroys your socks.

His clawed hands shred your sweater, snap your bra at the straps until all your clothes are left in a heap on the dusty floorboards by a forgotten desk. He crawls over you like a predator, undressed himself now: some how bigger, more hulking than before. His shoulders are broad, muscles flexing while skin so white it's nearly blue stretches over it. Whatever is down here has completely infected him, you can see it in the color of the veins beneath his skin, the slight red in his pupils, the dark blue hues under his eyes.

His wings lift high around him in an arched half circle, tips appearing behind him like a hybrid of horns and halo at once.

"Could smell you from here," he leers, "since last night. Christ, fucking drooling over you like a kid."

You whimper again, body jolting in pain when his nails pierce your thighs when he parts them. Fresh ichor spilling from the wounds in deep sanguine and he doesn't seem to care about the mess he's making while it drips onto the sheets. His cavalier manuevering comes off as though he likes to play with his food before he eats it.

"And I don't know what it is, angel, how my senses find the right ones," he rasps while he leans forward to your blood soaked shoulder; serpent tongue slipping out to lave over it, "But you really called to me this year; think you might be the one."

"The o-one wh-what?" you sniffle. His tongue slides over the lacerations on your shoulder again, sucking slightly from the new wounds. He lets out a groan, using free hand to rest on the side of your rib cage for support.

He deatches from the well he drinks from, tip of his nose running over your decollatage and up your neck. In inhales over your jugular, pressing a wet kiss under your jaw before getting to your ear.

"The one I mate with, sweetheart," he breathes, "The one I breed."

Breed? You heart sinks like a stone into your belly, body tensing in a freeze while you think of what to do. How to get out of here.

"Wait," you gasp, arms coming up to push at his chest and push him away, "No, please, wait -- you can't."

You push and push but he's a stone pillar, he barely moves, his muscles barely push inward at your assault. He tuts, the click of his tongue between his teeth almost a chitter. He noses your cheek before looming over you, tips of your noses brushing. He catches your gaze again, the whispers start while the air blows in through the broken window. Obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo, obedire domino tuo. His lips aren't moving but you can hear his low voice in your ears, barely there, swirling around in your subconcious while the wind whispers with it. Another flash of red lightning illuminates him in a streak, the rumble of thunder vibrating your belly and chest. His hand floats up from your rib cage while you settle, cupping your cheek to slide down to your jaw and over your neck. The touch is nearly comforting, dipping you back into a haze like before.

"You were saying?" he asks.

"Hm?" your brows pinch, his voice muffled and far away.

"That's what I thought," he says smugly, head dipping back down to your neck where his lips drag over your delicate skin. His breath leaves a patch of wet heat that lingers when he moves down over your chest, fangs peeking out behind his full lips when he drags them over the swell of your left breast.

A gentle gasp escapes you, eyes fluttering closed when the tip of his tongue teases your pert nipple, blowing cool air against it once soaked with his spit. He flicks against it again, alternating sides, presses kisses over them in clear ownership. The more he tasted of you, the more it belonged to him.

With each touch and tease of your tits the more you gasp and whine beneath him, he chuckles from his belly, moving down to your sternum.

"And I died a virgin, can you believe it?" he asks with a cocky lift to one of his brows, "Now all I gotta do is smile and girls like you 'll just fall into bed with me."

There's cotton in your ears, all you can do is nod slowly while blood still leaks from your shoulder and thighs. All you can feel is his mouth and hands travel further and further down. The wind howls and the low chant in the back of your head changes tune but in the same cadence; over and over again: vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

He licks a stripe up the back of your thigh to catch a bead of blood before it reaches the mattress, savoring you. He feeds from the gouges he left behind for a moment before inching forward to the apex of your thighs. Eddie inhales your scent deeply, the earthly musk of you making his mouth water in a mix of metal and spit. His nose brushes against the untrimmed hair of your mound, ghosting himself over it drunk with attraction.

Your body heats up with mild embarrassment, flexing while your hips writhe slightly underhim. Almost as if he can hear your thoughts he kisses the crease of your thigh, "Nothing to be embarrassed about, baby. Girls don't let it grow like this anymore n' it's such a shame."

You want to speak up and explain it's just 'cause you haven't had the time but your tongue doesn't know how to move anymore. Too tired to speak, too caught up in how he feels, how he touches, how he takes what he wants. You relent again, body relaxing; pliant while he spreads you apart for him a desperate moan pulling from you when his tongue -- still soaked in your blood -- glides from the pool of slick at your opening all the way up to your clit.

You almost gag at the way your body betrays you, sending a spread of electricity over your nerves from your core to your finger tips. "More," you whisper, not even believing you're begging for him, "Please, more."

Eddie's smug in his response, smiling with his eyes while he looks up at you from between your legs, "And good manners? You spoil me, princess."

Your back arches in a soft curve when your hips push back into the mattress, pressing yourself into his waiting mouth. He groans again when your body drips for him, leaving a damp sheen on his cheeks and chin. It's not about your pleasure despite how much of it he's bringing you, but about your consumption. He's devouring you. Licking his plate clean from the outside in.

The moans he takes from you spur him on, getting you further and further away from the fight you put up before. Spilling over for him like a puddle while you writhe, a hand reaching out to rake through his hair. His own reaches up from aroud your thigh to hold you by the wrist tight to your side.

"Hands to yourself," he murmrs, soft lips wrapping around your swollen clit to suck expertly on the bud. You whimper, tugging at his hold but it only makes his grip more intense, pinning you there without much a fight. Not even enough to distract him from the task at hand.

When his tongue sinks back down into your soaking core you feel it, the heat pulsing through your belly while he lets the muscle dip and swirl in your wetness. Your thighs twitch and shake when his nose bumps your sensitive clit, his free hand coming up to gingerly rub circles over it in tandem.

"Oh my god," you whine, "Oh my god -- K-kas don' -- oh my god, ohmygod." He snickers, contining his movements, murmuring a quiet, "God's not here, baby."

Another roll over your hips sends you reeling, his tongue gliding in long strokes when finally the coil in your belly snaps. You fall apart beneath him, loud moans and high pitched squeals while he consumes you through it. Your body vibrates, thighs clamping down over his ears, blood from the slices in your flesh staining his hair and jaw.

He hums low when you settle, gasping for breath on your already dry and scratchy throat while you come down. 

Eddie rises slowly, shoulder blades and wings moving with him while he crawls up your body. Smooth and languid like a snake, his torso hovers above yours while he settles his hips between your thighs. You look up at him, his shape, the way his eyes have blown black, the newfound sharpness in his features. A creature, a monster in your wake — not the same person you saw at the cemetery. 

“Oh,” he coos when he sees your eyes glassy and rounded upon him, “So precious.” 

You're much weaker now, mind and body, the stings across your skin from the broken branches and his sharpened nails a pain you've become better accquainted with. You take another breath of calm, arms resting by your head with your palms up towards the ceiling. He takes the moment of surrender to hold them down against the bed. The pressure of his hips against yours keeps you pinned, but you barely fight -- maybe squirm, maybe whine. No thrashing, no screaming, the whispers echo through the wind again:

Vis, sentis, obedis. Vis, sentis, obedis.

"So, so, precious," he whispers while he leans forward, kisses pressed to one cheek and then the other slow and controlled. He inhales again when he dips down to your neck, piercing fangs dragging over the vein there. You feel the push and then the pain, the unbearable blinding pain of his teeth ripping through you. Through your skin, through the muscle, the pulse of his mouth while he holds himself there.

You cry out, nearly a scream while he holds himself there -- just enough to infect you, just enough to get the poison in. The pain reaches a blinding peak, bile growing up your throat, eyes filling with a white hot surge of anguish and then -- Nothing. Euphoria. An unknown lightness you hadn't felt before.

He releases, still holding tight to your wrists above your head when he raises up over you again.

"Open," he instructs, and in your hazy gaze you obey. Your tongue flattens against your chin without command.

"Very good, sweetheart," he praises, collecting the blood left on his lips and in his cheeks to spit it directly into your waiting mouth.

"You can close now," he grins, "And swallow."

He grunts, hips sliding against you so that you can feel his length between your legs; the girth alone sends a chill to the part of you that is screaming inside your head. How is it supposed to fit? How is he supposed to get this inside you? "Don't worry," he laughs, "It'll fit."

When your vision snaps up at him he laughs again, "I can hear you in there, princess. I can always hear you."

He dips down again, tip of his nose sliding over your cheek to your ear, "So be very careful what you think about."

He doesn't need his hands to guide the head of himself into your already needy center. It's a stretch, delicious but nearing painful. It's not something you've ever even dreamed of taking before; thick, large, inhuman.

Your legs lift on their own accord while he pushes in further, getting half way while you let out a choked sob.

"Aw, shh, shh, shh," he mocks, easing in more, "C'mon you can take it."

"You can --" his hips snap in hard for the rest of him, letting out a ragged grunt when the rest of him disappears inside you, "--take it."

You mouth hangs open in a desperate oval, face crumpling when you become so full of him -- all encompassing. A part of you now, buried deep within. He moves, dangerously slow and controlled; methodic in how he thrusts himself deeper and deeper inside. "Mmm, that's it," he growls, chest to chest with him while his hip grind at a deliberate pace. You feel his hot breath fan out over your lips, forehead pressed against yours. He's not hot, he's not cold, just skin against yours while it flashes with heat. You go from shaking to sweating with minutes in between.

When your hips roll to meet his thrusts you moan, the tip hitting you so deep in your core that stars burst behind your eyes. "There we go," he grins mischeviously, "S'at feel good, pet?"

"Ooh, yes," you hiss through gritted teeth, actively trying to bounce yourself againsth him now that your body has started accommodating his sheer size. He raises himself up on his hands like a cobra, snake like peering down at you while he meets the roll of your hips with an unforgiving thrust.

"Good," he oozes the word out like smoke, deliciosly deep seated in his belly when he thrusts hard again. He mumbles a quiet musing to himself that you can't hear -- too gone in the lightness in your body, in the way nothing hurts, in the way you're so full.

Can finally fuck you how I wanna.

He gets up, sitting back on his haunches while still inside you, pushing your legs up so your knees end up by your ears. With this leverage he sinks in deep. You don't even know how far in he is, just that he's in and he's there, he's everywehre, he's outside and in.

Eddie locks eyes with you, that same smirk from the cemetary that made your stomach flip dancing across his devilish features, "Tell me you like it."

Your mouth moves before your brain can hesitate, "I like it." "Tell me you need it," he demands, tone measured and sure.

"I need it," you say back, your voice coming out broken and weak, "Please, I need it."

He pulls back and punches forward, hard enough that you gasp at the impact. He grips you hard by the backs of your legs, thrusts starting slow and building at an unrelenting pace. His eyes are wild; boring down at you through from under furrowed and determined brows. If you had any mind left, you'd think that he hates you by the way he stares.

"Fuck," he snarls, leaning forward over you, one hand pressing down on the mattress next to your head, "Shit -- fuck, that's it. That's fuckin' -- shit, you're fuckin' mine." "Say you need me."

"I need you," you choke back without thinking, barely able to breathe at his speed. The coil tightens deep inside of you again, tears pouring down your cheeks in waves -- not even crying, just recieving. Absorbing him. Your body rocks like a boat on unsteady waves pinned beneath him, the only sounds are the whispers in your subconcious, his growls and sputters like an animal above you. The lewd slaps of skin against skin, the squelches of him pushing you to your limits.

He steadies himself over you, nose to nose again while he fucks you. Really fucks you. Impressed with himself, he lets out a breathy chuckle when you throw your head back -- eyes shutting tight with a pornographic scream.

"Oh GOD!" you cry out, "Oh my god."

His fingers and claws catch your chin with a firm shake, eyes snapping open to meet the knowing glare of his ruddy brown ones.

"Your god," he starts, panting into your mouth, "is right here in front of you."

You swallow, mouth falling agape again when you feel the bite of his nails on the fat of your cheeks. "Right here," you repeat, dazed and overwhelmed, "N'..n'fronname."

"Right here in front of you," he nods, leaning down to brush his nose against yours while his thrusts slow to a steady pace. It's then that his lips meet yours, the kiss searing with desire and claim when his tongue slides into your mouth. You can taste the metallic twang of your blood in his mouth, sighing into it while he guides the kiss. Breaking away and coming back in; rushed and heated each time while he feels himself get closer to his peak.

His forehead presses against yours, one hand finally releasing your wrist to hold your head in place over your hair. You keep eye contact with him, not even sure if you're blinking, if you even need to blink. You rasp breaths, mouth and throat dry and aching while you breathe into him. You're close, teetering on the edge while he pushes you up with his hips to rest your lower body on his knees and thighs.

"Come undone," he murmurs, "Let go for me."

The command ripples through you, bursting through your belly with a warm heat. You welcome it, eyes rolling, cries pouring from you in words you don't think you understand. He encourages you, offering you rough sweet nothings while you pray to him, beg for him, ache for him.

That's enough to send him over; seeing you completely at his mercy now. Obedient, trained, devoured.

He snares and snarls, growling while he comes deep inside of you. The hand on your head wraps painfully in your hair like it did before you started -- uncaring, brutal. The heat of his seed pools deep within you like the heart of your orgasm. Glazed over you groan, hips rolling up in one final cant to receive him fully. Your vision vingettes while he unsheathes from you; fluids leaking onto the sheets. You're empty and the room spins with a new blackness, you're fading. Fainting? Dying?

The fuzziness continues to darken arouns you, around him, until he's all that's left in the tunnel of your vision. "That's a good girl," he soothes smugly, "Very well done."

Your gaze and mind fade fully to a staticky black.

You wake, you’re not sure how much later. 

Still on the bed and still undressed but your arms feel tight – a tug reveals your current state. Bound to a post on the headboard by a triple handcuff knot, dense hemp rope keeping your arms above your head. 

You whine and struggle, coming to your senses now – no one knows where you are, you barely know where you are. An underworld – hell. Somewhere. 

“Don’t look so terrified, sweetheart,” his smooth honey voice is heard before he appears in the candle light again, “I’m right here.” 

“Wh-why am I –” you swallow thickly, coughing and sputtering with how dry your mouth and throat are now, “Why am I tied up?” 

He looks at you with faux concern, brows raising, “Oh honey, are you okay?” 

He reaches out, pushing your hair away from your face, “Don’t be stressed. Y’know something – I just realized, I never offered you anything to drink.” 

“My uncle always told me you should take a girl out to dinner before makin’ the van rock and look at me,” he gestures at his chest, tutting at himself, “Where are my manners, huh?” 

Your lip wobbles while he looms over you, “Are you thirsty?” 

You nod, he grins – cheshire like, fangs glinting in the light, “I thought you would be.” He gets up, lazy and confident in his walk across the room. His body looks like marble, chiseled with the running and hunting you realize he’s been doing for over a decade. Stronger than ever; ethereal in his post orgasm glow. 

He pulls his hair back while he walks, holding it up away from his neck while your eyes travel down his back where his wings have tucked in under the skin. You gag when you see them move above his blades, rippling beneath the tattoos he has there. He’s dressed in only shorts; silk – likely stolen to really own the whole vampire thing he has going on. 

You take in a shaky breath when he gets what he needs, dropping his hair back to his shoulders when he makes his way back to you. 

He holds the dagger coolly in his hand before gliding the tip down the center of his wrist. Blood blooms from the wound; he doesn’t even flinch. 

“Open, princess,” he murmurs. Your lips clamp shut, shaking your head no while fear takes over – rot in your chest. He catches your chin again, forcing you to look at him like before. 

“Open,” he repeats, slower. His voice reverberates like a gong between your ears. 

Your mouth opens on its own accord and the smell of his blood becomes the most alluring scent you’ve had pass your nose in years. You latch on to the laceration, swallowing and sucking deeply on the wound while his blood and body quench and feed you better than any meal you think you’ve ever had. You feel revived as you devour him, eyes fluttering closed while the fill feels never enough. 

“That’s it, keep goin’,” he encourages under his breath, “Won’t have to keep asking you to do things twice once this is all over with.” 

You break away to breathe, gasping like you’re coming up for air, drowning in him. 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean you’ll be just like me, sweetheart,” he says, chuckling when you eagerly lean forward to drink him again, “After a night of some deeply insurmountable pain; and then nothing. Just mine. Undead and mine.” 

“But y–you said you were – I’m –” your brows knit in confusion, “You didn’t h-have to d-do this; whatever you um – whatever you bred me with will die if you do this.” 

“Oh, no, no,” he laughs evilly, “I didn’t breed you quite yet.” 

He pulls his arm away, wiping the blood from your chin with his thumb roughly. 

“Consider what we did a, uh…hmm,” he takes a second to think about it with a hum, shrugging cheekily, “A soul bonding experience.” 

“You’re disgusting,” you spit. 

“I’m delicious,” he corrects, smearing his blood from your chin to your cheek, “If you do say so yourself.” 

He gets up again, pulling the covers out from under you to tuck you in. The chill getting to you in a way it never gets to him; you might as well be warm while you turn into actualized death. 

“I can hear you, remember?” he asks, tapping your head, “You won’t be totally alone with me. There’s…shit there are plenty just like us.” 

“Like Steve,” you pipe up groggily. 

“More than just goodie two-shoes Harrington,” he groans, “God, do you ever shut up about him?”

You sniffle in response.

“I mean this place, this – dimension,” he says, “It’s more than just Hawkins, and there are so many more like us; even up there.” 

He points upwards with a sharp nailed finger, “All around.” 

“And now that you’ll be just like me,” he smiles, sitting on the edge of the bed next to you in the crook of you waist, “There’ll be all the time in the world to breed you.” 

Your vision blurs, either from tears or from another fade, you aren’t sure. You can feel a slow burn through your veins, a rush of blood. You whimper. 

“So it begins,” he smirks, running the tip of his finger over your nose bridge. 

“Oh!” he says, eyes bulging, “Before I forget, and before I lose you – because you’ll be such a pretty blank slate when you come to – I felt like I should be honest.” 

He gestures dramatically, a maniacal grin pushing his cheeks up to his eyes while they spark, “Again with my manners, it was so rude of me to introduce myself to Pete’s grave at the cemetery. We’ve met before! Can’t believe I had almost forgotten.” 

Ice in your body fights the burning in your veins, you gag, bile coming up to singe your throat. 

“And y’know, I didn’t mean to drop him in the quarry when I was done with him,” he says with a scrunch of his nose, like he accidentally wrote the wrong tip on a restaurant check, “Really, my mistake, but Christ did he hit every piece of limestone on the way down.” 

He lets out a hearty laugh while he remembers it, your brother's body bouncing off rocks and metal before slipping under the water. You swallow your sick only or it to rise back up with a vengeance, staining your skin red while it seeps out of the corner of your mouth. You tug on the ropes in retaliation, hot angry tears stinging your eyes. 

“All that fallin’ did a number on him – which is good because it really took the heat of anyone knowing it was me. I just wasn't as clean about it back then. Much better now though,” he nods, finishing with a superior and charming look like he just told a bedtime story. 

He leans forward close to your face while your vision pulses in fuzzy black, browning out while he looks down at you. 

“And I’ll tell you something, babe…” 

Fading, fading, fading.

“He tasted divine.”

masterlist | fall frenzy | ko-fi

[perseephoneee]

PLEASE do something super fluffy with kol mikealson

i love ur work sm!!

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

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

warnings: kissing?? also hatred towards bed and breakfasts

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

↳ masterlist  ↳ ship exchange ↳ taglist

You hate Kol Mikaelson. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“City in Morocco considered its cultural capital.”

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

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

“No.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“There. Stop there.”

“That piece of garbage?”

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

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

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

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

“It’s barely gourmet.”

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

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

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

“You are pathetic.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes, and I will do it with pride.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s a little…”

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

“I was going to say tight.”

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

“I’ll take the futon.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y/N,”

“No.”

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

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

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

“I do not.”

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

“You’re incorrigible.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…

Afterwards.

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

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

“Kol.”

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

“Go to sleep.”

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

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

You smile. “I’m okay with that.”

taglist:: @rafecameronswhore

[keenzinemugstudent]

Stefan: Hey Jer what's up? Everything okay?

Jeremy: Um who's that girl.

Stefan: Oh that's my girlfriend. *Waves at you as you smile at him* What about her?

Jeremy: She's really pretty

Stefan: .........

Y/n: Stefan....he just gave me a compliment Stefan, you really gonna beat a kid up just because he gave me a compliment Stefan?

Stefan: I'm getting really hungry

Y/n: Stefan no thank of Elena!

Stefan: .....

Y/n: Okay bad choice of words

Stefan: Hey Jeremy let's go talk man to man okay?,

Y/n: Please calm down!

Damon: $50 bucks says he beats the shit out of little Gilbert

Caroline: Damon!....make it $70

Damon: Bet

[heartiella]

[gurugirl]

THE COUNT | {vamprry} a preview

Series Summary: Count Styles lives on an island you’ll not find on any map. He’s lived in relative solitude for ages and is happy to have the rare occasional guest who accidentally runs into his small slice of the world, though they may not be as thrilled by his intentions once they find out what he is.

When Y/n's weather vessel crashes into his island one stormy night he greets her and offers her shelter in his castle while she waits for someone to help repair her boat. She soon comes to adore the strange and charming man and grows a worrying attachment. But she cannot help herself. No matter how much she learns about the Count and how strange her world has become she cannot seem to pull herself out of the haze of his alluring spell.

Even when her life depends on it.

..

Short preview below.

NOTE: this preview is from part 2

. . .

Pressing her ear closer to the door she closed her eyes and there was a distinct male voice, a sobbed moan that, after a loud thud, turned into something like a pitiful crying. But then she heard another voice and there was something familiar in the way it cooed and teased almost. She could not make out words but the sentiment was clear. There were two people in that room having sex and one of them was Harry. The other sounded to be a man.

Stepping back from the door she realized her mouth was hung open in surprise. Perhaps the Count was into men. Well, he was quite pretty. She could imagine that she supposed. Before she could even turn around the sounds behind the door stopped and the silence that suddenly surrounded her had her heart picking up a beat. Had she made a noise?

She swallowed and turned her head to see her door open down the hallway and wondered if she could make it quickly before anyone knew that she’d been listening in.

But the moment that thought popped into her head the door opened up and there was Harry in a long white cotton pijama, the top unbuttoned and nearly draped off his shoulder. She glanced over his frame and back up to his eyes but he was different. His irises were almost black and his mouth was set strangely, like he had swollen gums, “Would you like something, Y/n?”

Shaking her head she stepped back, “No. Sorry. I… heard something… nothing. I’m going back to bed. Sorry!”

She turned to move away but he stopped her, his hand wrapped around her upper arm, making her twist back to face him, “Are you sure don’t want anything?”

She darted her eyes behind him to the room he’d been in and it appeared to be lit by a fireplace. She saw something move across the doorway but couldn’t make out what (or who) it was.

“I’m sorry for disturbing you. That… I was just worried…”

He smiled, his lips covering his teeth as he closed the door behind him and stepped in dangerously close, holding her arm to keep her from inching away. He looked down at the dirtied material tucked under her arm and he grunted softly, “Oh my. What is this?”

Letting go of her arm he plucked the defiled sheets and nightgown from her and dropped the sheet to the floor, his hands crumpling around the white fabric, thumb dragging into the slippery wetness where her arousal had dripped.

She felt herself flush hot with embarrassment as she watched the Count inspect the damage she’d done to her nightgown. It was obvious what it was he was looking at.

“Poor, Y/n,” his dark eyes met hers as he lifted his thumb to his mouth and ran the pad of his digit against his tongue, eyes fluttering closed when he swallowed.

All of the breath in her lungs was caught and now the flush of heat was forming in her tummy as she watched him enjoy the taste. Her taste.

His jaw clenched as he opened his eyes and looked down at her, dark irises raking over her frame and then back up to her face, a deep exhale escaping his chest, “We’re all carnal beings, Y/n. There’s no shame in the body’s natural reaction to an arousing dream. All you have to do is call for me next time and I’ll make the emptiness go away. I’ll do whatever you ask.”

She couldn’t blink or look away from him. She was trapped by his haunting gaze as he drew a finger from her jaw up to her temple and then back down until he’d gently scraped his nail over her pulse point, pressing in just enough to make a small indent bite into her flesh, before lifting and pushing his nail in crosswise against the same spot.

“X marks the spot. Doesn’t it, Y/n?”

She gulped, “What’s that mean?”

Harry lowered his face close to hers. He was so close she could feel his breath on her cheek, “If you ask politely,” he wrapped his hand around the side of her neck, thumb dragging against her jaw, “I’ll show you what it means.”

. . .

This series will only be on Patreon! If you liked this preview, consider joining my Patreon for more exclusive content like this.

xoxo

[wholoveseggs]

~Your local egg carton~

{masterlist}

18+

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

lets get cracking!

Warnings: Its all mostly smut

(or soon to be published smut)

~Elijah Mikaelson♡~

~Daemon Targaryen♡~

~Kinktober 2024♡~

hi :) my name is Lissa ♡♡

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

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-- Check out #lissa celebrates 1000 for my AMA

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If you rather read on Ao3- Link is here

[austinbutlerslovers]

Blood Bound

Label Mature 18+

🎃 Kinktober Oneshot

Summary It had been this way at every event, hadn’t it? He would watch you, and you would watch him, always at a distance. You told yourself it was just an infatuation, some silly attraction to a movie star, but deep down, you knew it was more than that. There was something about him, something magnetic and dangerous, that had always kept you away.

🧡Depraved Smut🧡 spellbound• vulnerable• vampire seduction• neck biting• thigh biting • oral sex fem • clit pinching • squirting • P in V• vampire feeding during orgasms

🔗 Master List

📖 Proofreader @purejasmine 🫦 Smut Consultant @burnthheparaphilia 🩸 Mentions of blood

Blood Bound

The Hollywood party is a glittering affair, draped in opulence and excess. Crystal chandeliers cast warm light over the lavish Hollywood manor, their glow mingling with the hum of low laughter and the clink of champagne flutes.

You’ve been to events like this before—several of them, in fact. You’re not a stranger to this world of fame and beauty. As an up and coming actress, you’ve quickly gained favor, charming producers and directors with your infectious personality and undeniable talent. But tonight feels different.

After the success of your first two movies, your agent pulled strings to get you invited to this event. It’s part of the plan to elevate your career, to put you in the same room with the biggest stars, to make sure your face and name are known to the industry’s power players.

Your reputation is already building with whispers of your incredible acting skills spreading through the circles of the wealthy and influential. Everyone wants a piece of you.

You were on every list, every red carpet gala, every after-party, every exclusive event and that’s how you’d caught his eye—at least, that’s what you told yourself. You didn’t come here for him, not intentionally, but it was impossible not to feel his presence when he was near.

You had seen him at several events over the last few months, Austin Butler—a name that had lingered in Hollywood for decades, and yet, he seemed untouched by time. He was perfect in his craft, a man who could command the screen and the red carpet with equal ease, his allure undeniable, his beauty almost inhuman.

He was a masterpiece, comparable to only a few in all of Hollywood, a vision of male beauty. His face, chiseled yet delicate, held an ethereal quality that transcended handsomeness to something beyond.

His ageless allure seemed immune to the passage of time. You could see it in the way his skin appeared to glow under the lights, his features sharp yet graceful, effortlessly drawing the gaze of everyone around him. He didn’t just stand out—he eclipsed everyone else—a figure whose presence was impossible to ignore.

You had seen him on the red carpet, commanding attention without even trying. His movements were slow, deliberate, drawing everyone in, rising above the frenzied chaos of the Hollywood elite. And you couldn’t help but watch him. 

You hadn’t dared approach before, always finding an excuse to avoid introductions. But every time, there was that undeniable lure. You’d catch his eye, and for a moment, it was as if the world paused, leaving just the two of you in that charged silence.

Tonight was no different. From the moment you stepped into the party, you knew he was there. You felt him before you saw him, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end, your pulse quickening in a way that was both thrilling and unsettling. 

You had sworn to yourself that this was just another job, another night of mingling with A-list celebrities making sure everything went smoothly. But you couldn’t ignore the way your gaze kept drifting, scanning the room for him.

And then you saw him.

He was leaning casually against the bar, dressed in all black, his shirt sheer revealing the sculpted lines beneath his polished exterior. His torso, perfectly defined, displayed every muscle of his six-pack in flawless symmetry. His waist was narrow, accentuating the sharp, lines of his body, leaving little to the imagination.

His sandy blonde hair was tousled back , perfectly styled, and his eyes—those sharp, mesmerizing eyes—found yours almost immediately. It was as if he had been waiting for you, expecting you. The corners of his mouth lifted into a slow, deliberate smile that made your heart stutter in your chest.

You tore your gaze away, pretending to be engrossed in a conversation with one of the producers you’d worked with before. But his pull was undeniable. Every nerve in your body was aware of him, of the way he moved through the crowd with effortless grace, and how people seemed mesmerized as he spoke with them.

It had been this way at every event, hadn’t it? He would watch you, and you would watch him, always at a distance. 

You told yourself it was just an infatuation, some silly attraction to a movie star, but deep down, you knew it was more than that. There was something about him, something magnetic and dangerous, that had always kept you away.

Tonight, though, something feels different. Maybe it’s the way he keeps his gaze on you, never letting it waver. Maybe it’s the way your body seems to respond, a strange mixture of excitement and fear pulsing through your veins.

He starts to move toward you, and before you can think of an excuse to slip away, he’s already there standing so close you can feel the coolness of his presence. The scent of him fills your senses, deep and rich, like rain on stone.

“You’re always so busy,” he says softly, his voice velvety, each word a soft caress.

You blink, momentarily caught off guard. His eyes are piercing, as if they see right through you, stripping away all your carefully constructed defenses.

“You’ve noticed me?” You ask almost rhetorically.

A slow smile curves his lips, the kind that makes your breath catch. 

“You stand out to me, even when you’re trying not to.” He reveals, his voice is smooth, with just a hint of danger beneath the surface. “You’ve noticed me too, haven’t you?” He asks, his voice lowering with a knowing tone.

You hesitate. You could lie, pretend you haven’t been stealing glances at him, feeling that strange, unspoken connection between you. But something about the way he’s looking at you makes it impossible to withhold the truth.

“Y-yes,” you out right admit, shocking yourself as your voice comes out before you can stop it.

His smile widens, revealing just a hint of something sharper than a regular smile should. His fingers graze your wrist, and a shiver runs down your spine. His touch is cold, but it ignites a fire in you, a strange mixture of fear and desire that you can’t quite explain.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” he says softly, leaning in just a fraction, his lips close to your ear. “But not tonight.”

You swallow hard, your heart pounding as he easily guides you away from the crowd. He leads you toward the shadows into a lavish sitting area tucked away in the manor.  His hand rests lightly at the small of your back, his touch firm yet gentle, luring you with a promise you don’t fully understand yet.

Once far enough from prying eyes, he presses you gently against the ornate wall within the siting room. His hand rests on your waist, fingers pressing lightly into your skin. His eyes are predatory in the way they roam over you, something dark and knowing flickering beneath their surface.

“You feel it, don’t you?” he asks, his voice soft yet resonating through your entire body.

Your breath hitches as his eyes lock onto yours.

“The pull between us?” He questions.

His eyes gleam like moonstone, the blue almost luminescent in the dim light. His pupils, dark and wide, seem to pull you in deeper, and you can’t help but feel captivated under their spell.

You’ve felt it, though you’ve tried to deny it. Now, standing this close to him, there’s no escaping it. The world around you seems to fade, and all that remains is him—the way he towers over you, the way his hand slides up your back, pulling you closer.

“I don’t understand…” you whisper, your voice trembling slightly.

He smiles, but it’s not a reassuring smile. It’s dangerous, intoxicating. “I’ve wanted you,” he says softly, his lips brushing your ear. “I’ve been watching you, waiting for the right moment.”

Your heart is pounding wildly, and you don’t understand why you can’t cant flee. His other hand comes up to cup your face, his thumb grazing your cheek as he tilts your head, exposing the curve of your neck. “And tonight,” he whispers, his lips hovering over your skin, “you’re mine.”

Before you can fully comprehend his words, his teeth sink into your neck, a sharp, piercing pain followed by a wave of pleasure so intense it nearly brings you to your knees. You gasp, clutching his arms as he holds you against him, his mouth cools your warm skin as he drinks from you with a hunger that feels both terrifying and exhilarating.

And as your blood flows into him, you realize why he has always seemed so beautiful, so untouchable. This is what he is— a vampire, and you, all along, have been his prey.

The truth crashes over you in waves, your thoughts clouded by the growing weakness in your body. Each pull of blood from your veins blurs the line between pleasure and pain, drawing you deeper into a haze of surrender.

Your vision darkens at the edges, the world around you dimming as your strength fades. His lips linger at your throat, the steady rhythm of his feeding pulling you deeper into unconsciousness. Your body grows heavier, your limbs unresponsive as the last of your energy slips through his grasp.

With one final, hazy breath, your eyelids flutter shut. The world disappears into blackness, your thoughts fading until there is nothing left but the feeling of him—the way his body presses against yours, the way your blood seems to flow into him, calling you into an endless, dreamless sleep.

-And then, there is only darkness.

When you slowly awaken, your body is heavy and weak, as if the very essence of you has been drained.

Everything is a blur at first—the soft silk black sheets beneath your naked skin, the dim light casting long shadows across unfamiliar walls. Your head throbs, and a strange numbness clings to your limbs, making it near impossible to move.

You suddenly realize you don’t know where you are, laying naked in an ornate bed. Panic flares in your chest, but your body refuses to respond. It is as if something is holding you there, tethering you to the bed with an invisible force.

You blink, trying to focus, but everything feels dreamlike and unreal. You try to move, but your muscles are sluggish, and unwilling. The room feels oppressive, the air thick and charged with something you can’t quite name.

Then you sense him.

A cool presence, a weight at the edge of the bed. His fingers trail along your skin, starting at your wrist and moving upward with slow, teasing deliberation. The touch is feather light, yet it sends shivers racing down your spine. You turn your head slightly, and see him.

Austin lays perched beside you, his eyes glowing in the dim light like embers, his smile slow and predatory.

“You’re awake,” he grins, his voice low and soothing, though there’s an undeniable hunger lurking beneath it. His nails, sharp and perfectly manicured, graze the inside of your arm, leaving a tingling sensation in their wake. “I was beginning to wonder if you’d sleep forever.”

You try to speak, but your throat is dry, and the words come out as a weak whisper. “Where…?”

“Shh,” he coos, gentle but commanding. “Don’t strain yourself. You’ve lost a lot of blood.” His gaze drops to your neck, and you feel the tender, pulsing ache where his teeth had been.

The memories flood back—his lips on your skin, the sharp sting, the rush of pleasure that drowned out everything else. You try to move, to sit up, but it’s as if your body is no longer yours. It’s under his control, bound by some invisible spell that leaves you vulnerable.

Austin leans closer, his cool breath against your cheek, his lips brushing your ear. “Your blood is so sweet to me,” he whispers, his voice a velvet caress that sends warmth spreading through your core. “I couldn’t resist you. I’ve never tasted anything like you before.”

His hand slides down your arm, over the curve of your waist and you shiver beneath his touch, your heart racing even though your body feels utterly drained.

“I didn’t want to take too much,” he whispers, his lips brushing your temple now, his voice so close it feels dizzying. “But you… you’re different. Your blood—it’s sweeter than anything I’ve ever had….And I want more.”

You gasp softly, fear and desire mixing into something you cant quite name. His hand moves lower, tracing patterns across your stomach, his nails scraping lightly over your skin, enough to make you ache with an unfamiliar need.

“I could drain you dry right now,” he whispers against your neck, his tongue flicking out to taste the lingering blood. “But where would the fun in that be?”

Your breath hitches as his fingers dip lower, teasing along your inner thighs, his touch possessive yet careful, as though you are something fragile and precious. 

“I want to savor you, and draw out your pleasure.” he confesses, his eyes locking onto yours, with an otherworldly glint in them.

“You’ll be even sweeter to me,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your collarbone, his fangs grazing your skin as he breathes you in. 

“Every time I bring you to the peak of pleasure, you’ll taste even better.” he reveals, his voice heavy with desire, his insatiable hunger barely restrained.

“You want that, don’t you?” He whispers and his words wrap around you like a spell, a dangerous allure that makes it hard to think, hard to breathe.

You want to protest, to push him away, but the truth lingers in the air between you. Despite the fear, despite the danger, there’s a part of you that wants it too. His presence, his touch, his need for you—it’s intoxicating, overpowering.

His hand slides back up, cupping your chin tilting your face so your eyes met his. “Say it,” he whispers, his gaze burning into yours, unrelenting. “Tell me you want it. Tell me you want to be mine.”

Your lips part, and though your voice is barely a whisper, you knew he heard it. “I want it.”

A slow, satisfied smile curls his lips. “Good,” he whispers, his thumb brushing your lower lip, his eyes gleaming with triumph. “Then let me make you mine.”

He slowly lowers himself down on your body, his eyes never leaving yours, the heat between you growing with every second. His lips brush against your skin, feather light, teasing you, taking his time.

His touch is soft as if he’s savoring an unspoken command. He moves down lower and every inch of your body is on fire for him as he presses his lips against your skin deliberate and slow.

You can’t stop the way your body responds your breath hitching, your heart racing. His mouth moves lower, brushing between your hips with agonizing patience, his breath cool, his touch impossibly soft.

The sensations send waves of heat rippling through your body, but he stays just at the edge, holding back, as if he’s drawing out every second, letting the tension coil tighter and tighter inside you.

Now… please…you beg him in your mind and without a word, his lips press firmly on your slick heat, his tongue flicking softly over your flesh in exactly the way you wanted.

The pressure is perfect, the rhythm delicate, his movements slow but confident as if hes reading every unspoken thought, responding to every silent plea in your mind as your body lies completely exposed to him.

Each flick of his tongue sends a fresh wave of pleasure surging through you, building with a tension that makes you ache for more. 

His actions are perfect, an exact reflection of the desires swirling in your mind, responding to your every thought before you can even voice them.

You tremble beneath him, overwhelmed by the precision with which he pleases you. The connection between you feels seamless, his every move pushing you closer to the edge, until you become lost in the way he knows exactly how to unravel you.

Just as the world begins to blur, his lips brush teasingly against your sensitive clit. He bites down gently with increasing pressure, enough to send a jolt of pleasure coursing through you so fierce that your breath catches in your throat.

Your body tenses as you cry out and a sudden release of liquid escapes from your core directly into his mouth. The sensation of squirting from his delicate bite leaves you trembling, overwhelmed by the raw, primal ecstasy coursing through you.

You softly moan as he greedily laps at you, the sound lingering in the air as you feel the pleasure of your orgasm rolling through you, and he moves lower, kissing along your inner thigh.

There’s a brief pause as his eyes lock with yours, just long enough for you to understand what’s coming, and then, his teeth sink into the tender flesh of your inner thigh.

You whimper the sting is sharp and immediate, but it’s more than just pain, It’s something darker, something deeper and where there should be fear, there is only surrender as his fangs pierce into your skin. The coldness of his bite contrasts with the heat pulsing through your core, drawing you into an intoxicating connection between you.

As your blood flows into him and he drinks it you feel something indescribable, a bond, an intimacy beyond anything you’ve ever known. 

His mouth remains at your thigh, his fangs sinking deeper as he moans with every pull, it’s as if he’s not only feeding on your blood but on the very essence of your pleasure. He consumes it, savors it, in a way that feels both terrifying and exhilarating.

As your body weakens, his grip on your thigh softens. Your blood flowing into to him firm and steady as he holds your thigh against his mouth. And just as the darkness begins to creep in at the edges of your vision, he withdraws.

His fangs slip from your skin with the softest touch, and then his tongue is there, gently licking the bite marks, soothing the wound with an almost reverent tenderness. 

The coolness of his tongue sends shivers down your spine, and for a moment, the world feels distant, softened by the overwhelming sensation of his care.

He raises his head, his lips wet with your blood, and his eyes meet yours, glowing in the dim light. “Your blood,” he rasps, his voice low and thick with satisfaction, “it’s like nothing I’ve ever tasted before. It’s,  intoxicating to me… it’s perfect.”

The cool weight of his body climbs over you and as he presses his chest down on yours the chill of his skin is a startling contrast to the heat building within you. It grounds you, holds you captive in the surreal reality of the moment.

His body becomes slightly warmer and you shiver knowing he is gaining it from your blood. 

His grip tightens on your waist, his lips hovering near the pulse in your neck. He breaths deeply, savoring every beat of your heart, each trembling gasp that escapes you. 

“You taste so good.” he praises, his voice a low, sinful rasp. “Better than I could have ever imagined.” He whispers, his fingers tips brushing against your wetness.

“I’m gong to make you even sweeter… just a little longer.” He reveals, his words sending a thrill through you, as he carefully aligns his cock. 

He slips into your entrance rendering you senseless. The size of him overwhelming, all-consuming, the feeling unfamiliar and exquisitely maddening as you warm his cock.

The way he fills you, is not just physical it’s deeper, there’s a power in it, the way he waits inside you, deliberate and patient, as if he knows exactly what he’s doing to your body, as if he’s done this a thousand times before, yet it feels like he’s savoring every second.

“You’ll give me everything,” he whispers, his lips brushing your skin as he begins his slow, and torturous thrusts. “You’ll make yourself sweeter for me, and you won’t even be able to stop yourself.”

You gasp softly, your body responding instinctively, arching toward him as if seeking more of him. The sensation of his cold flesh meeting your heat is intoxicating, a tantalizing contrast that builds with every stroke. 

The way he takes you, the fullness of him, leaves you with no choice but to surrender, to give in to the pleasure that’s building deep within you.

His lips hover just above your skin, a breath away from your throat waiting for the moment to bite, and the anticipation makes your heart pound so loudly it fills your ears.

He smiles—slow and dangerous as he hears every frantic beat of your heart knowing how much control he has over you.

—You feel it, don’t you?—

His voice is a soft caress directly into your mind,

—you’re coming to me now——

He transfers bypassing the need for words altogether.

He’s in your head!

You feel him press his lips to your neck as he thrusts, and his fangs pierce your skin once more, the sharp sting sending a wave of ecstasy coursing through you, amplifying everything until you’re gasping beneath him.

The pain of his bite mingles with the pleasure, becoming indistinguishable from it, and in that moment, it’s clear—as he consumes your blood, he consumes your pleasure, and it’s intoxicating to him.

You feel him drink deeply, his moans vibrating against your neck as he feeds on the sweetness only he can taste. And as your blood flows into him, you realize the terrible, beautiful truth: 

He brings you to the edge of life and death, and you crave him to take you further.

You are his, becoming sweeter with each thrust, each stolen drop of blood, and you will give until there’s nothing left of you. The desire to please him, to offer yourself to his hunger, again and again is all-consuming.

You are his favored one, his sweetest one, and as your strength begins to fade, you welcome it. You want it.

You want him.

He withdraws his fangs, gasping, his lips grazing the hollow of your collarbone as his cock thrusts harder, and you realize, with a shudder, that those thoughts were not your own

—They are his.

The sensation sends a jolt through you, and despite the sheer terror that lingers at the back of your mind, you can’t stop the way your body responds to him.

You’ve become a part of him—a thought you can’t quite understand, but one you are helpless to resist.

His hand finds yours, his long fingers entwining with your own as his other hand lightly wraps around your neck. It’s intimate, unsettlingly so, but it stirs something deep within you. You’re utterly exposed to him, vulnerable in a way that’s both terrifying and strangely exhilarating.

“You want this,” he whispers his lips tracing the line of your jaw. “You’ve wanted it longer than you’ve realized.” He says with a grin.

You can’t respond. Your breaths coming in short gasps as his thrusts grow bolder, sending jolts of heat through you as the pressure of his hand never leaves your neck.

His lips find their way back to the sensitive skin of your throat. The briefest brush of his fangs against your pulse point sends a spike of adrenaline through you, and before you can react, his mouth is on you again, his tongue teasing the fresh marks he pierced.

The ache in your neck pulses with each rapid beat of your heart, and you can feel his teeth close to breaking the skin again.

“I can feel it,” he whispers, his breath warm against your skin. “Your heart. It’s racing for me, faster and faster. I wonder… how much more it can take?”

You gasp as his hand tightens around your neck, his touch warmer now, his presence overwhelming your senses until the only thing that exists is him.

You feel his teeth scrape lightly against your neck, a tease, a promise of what’s to come. Your heartbeat is thundering in your ears with every thrust. And then, with a sudden, sharp pain, his fangs sink into your skin once more.

The initial sting is brief, and then comes the rush of pleasure, a wave so powerful it drowns out everything else. It’s overwhelming, flooding your senses and leaving you gasping beneath him.

His lips press to your neck, and you feel the pull of your blood leaving your body, but this time, every pulse of your heart syncs with his movements, as if he’s orchestrating your very being.

Your vision blurs, the room spins, but all you can focus on is the sensation—the exquisite mix of pain and pleasure, the undeniable power he has over you. And somehow, through it all, you want more. You need more.

The pressure builds, your body tightening under his control, and then it hits you a release so intense, it rips through you. Your body shudders violently as you orgasm, waves of pleasure crashing over you, leaving you trembling, gasping, and utterly consumed by him.

He moans against your neck, the sound raw and primal, as he drinks deeper, each pull more intense than the last. His grip on your neck tightens, thumb pressing harder under your jaw, and you can feel the shift in his body — his muscles tensing barely restrained as he trusts grow fiercer with every drop he takes.

With a deeply satisfied moan he pulls away. His eyes darker, his lips stained with your blood, but the hunger in his gaze is far from over. He leans in, pressing his lips softly to yours, letting you taste the, metallic sweetness of your own blood and you moan  into his mouth.

His cock is thrusting impossibly harder now, pushing into you with an intensity that feels inhuman. 

His climax builds and you feel his fangs graze your skin once more. You are weaker as he gains your strength and the sting is sharper as he bites down harder, drawing fresh blood. The pain mingles with pleasure, as he drinks deeply syncing with the thrusts of his hips.

With a guttural groan, he comes, his body trembling with the force of it, his cock pulsing with his release. His lips are still latched onto your neck, drinking in the last of your essence as you orgasm wracks through you. The warmth of his seed fills you, combined with the slow, rhythmic pull of your blood, leaving you light headed.

As his thrusts slow and the last waves of his release subside, he continues to feed, moaning against your neck his fangs still buried in your skin. His hunger for you is insatiable and you feel your body and soul bound to him in a way that is inescapable.

Your vision begins to blur, the world around you fading. Each beat of your heart feels slower, weaker, and your limbs grow heavy. A numbness creeps over your body, spreading from your neck where were his fangs pierce through your skin.

The pounding in your ears quiets, and the edges of your consciousness begin to fray, slipping away, as if you’re teetering on the brink of a deep, inescapable darkness.

Just as your world begins to fade entirely, Austin pulls back, his breath heavy and ragged. 

His dark eyes lock onto yours, sensing the shift in your body, the danger of how close you are to slipping away from him. Without hesitation, he pierces his lower lip with his sharp fangs allowing the blood to well and spill before he leans in, pressing his mouth to yours in a desperate, consuming kiss.

Once his blood reaches your tongue you begin to revitalize as if every cell is suddenly alive with energy. You swallow his blood and your heart, begins to pound with renewed vigor. The fog in your mind lifts, replaced with a sharp clarity, and your limbs, once heavy and weak, regain their strength.

Now able to move your instincts take over, and without hesitation, you bite into his lip, craving more—more of the intoxicating power, more of the connection. The taste of his blood, is so rich and potent, it drives you into a frenzy. You grip his neck, holding him to you tightly, your body desperate, the need to consume him swelling inside you. 

His blood is your lifeline now, and you are not ready to let go. He quickly pulls back his hand gripping your throat keeping you at bay as his voice lulls you instantly.

“You’re mine now…”he grins his voice laced with satisfaction.

You lay beneath him, utterly spent, your mind still reeling from the intensity of what just happened. And as you stare up at him, a part of you knows—he spared your life by allowing you his blood. There is no escape from this, you are his now, in every way that mattered. His favored one, his sweetest one. And there was no part of you left that wanted to resist

🎃END🎃 …*Update there will be a part 2! (Highly demanded that he hunts you on mansion grounds as an elaborate game for the celebrity vampire elite *sighs dreamily*) TBA this month.

🔗 Master List

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[desireangel]

Honey and Venom [Prologue] | Aemond Targaryen

vampire!Aemond x fem!Reader

Summary: On the brink of death and in moments of desperation, you are lead to the mysterious, fearsome Lord who resides in the century-old castle of Harrenhal, releasing people from the clutches of death in exchange for an unspoken price. Only this time, Aemond finds himself violently drawn to the sweetness of your blood and craves far more than just the debt he is owed.

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: MDNI 18+ only! illness (fever, infection, fatigue, shakes), blood!! canon divergence of course, allusions to sex but not really, talk of death, not yet edited. pls lmk if I've missed anything!

Author's Note: Ahhhh, yes another self indulgent mini series!! I've always been in love with gothic fiction etc so I was super excited. This was initially meant to be a Halloween time contribution but that's peak exam szn soooo didn't happen and I actually couldn't get this idea out of my head so I had to at least get the prologue out. Also bc I need creative breaks from DC to keep up my motivation and this gives me a great outlet. Anyways, please lmk if we are interested in updates and as always lmk of your thoughts! xoxo

Masterlist

The rhythmic sway of the carriage tempted you into a peace which had been hard to find as of late. Even as you gazed upon the darkened forestry which at once yet still slowly disappeared into paths of cobblestones and walls of concrete. It was an eerie castle that had goosebumps prickling at your skin and while you barely turned your head from the pillow upon which it rested, you wondered if Oliver had noticed the sharp sense of dread that settled over the air through the gates of Harrenhal’s once great fortress. 

When Doctor Grayward had told you that there was nothing more he could do for you, Oliver had sat by your side, holding your hand tightly as if you would turn to dust and slip through his fingers should he loosen his grip. Your brother was a calm and collected man and it had pained you to see the anguish on his face  when he begged the doctor for another way to liberate you from this unknown illness. 

So with an apprehensive sigh and a mumble of your youth and potential the doctor had told you of Harrenhal’s reclusive Lord who was rumoured to bring miracles upon families, freeing those who were willing to pay the unspoken price from all kinds of deathly illnesses. It was dangerous, the doctor had warned. The townspeople both revered and were terrified of the Lord Targaryen. Cautiously, Oliver had asked why only to receive nothing more than a shrug and another sigh. 

“He will cure her of her illness. I’m beyond certain of it.”

The well of options had run dry with Doctor Grayward’s cluelessness in the face of your fever and tremors. And while you had told Oliver that it would be foolish simply to follow his word and journey days to what seemed to be the middle of nowhere for something that probably wouldn’t work, he had become desperate. 

Grasping at whatever thin hairs of hope that he could reach, Oliver had put an end to the discussion and all but dragged you to the carriage the next morning. 

Bromley, the driver of your carriage, had at first protested leading your carriage to the fortress upon Oliver’s mention of the mysterious Lord. He had removed his hat, eyes wide and frantic, shaking his head as he all but begged your brother to be dismissed. Oliver was having none of it and you felt a pang of sympathy for Bromley, whose eyes welled with tears as he picked up the reins once more.

Regardless, Bromley refused to go any further than the Estate gates, stepping down from his ledge and telling Oliver that there was no salary that he could pay him which would convince him to choose death over unemployment. 

There was a sudden drop in the temperature as you stepped down from the carriage on shaky legs, telling Oliver not to be ridiculous and let the poor man be. He was clearly very distressed and something within these lands frightened him into a blabbering, shaking mess. You considered for another time that this was a bad idea.

Oliver had let you hold onto him to stay upright, all but dragging you to the entrance of the Estate as you struggled to find the strength to hold yourself on your feet, your breath snatched from your chest at the slightest movement. A grand arch framed the doorway made of blackened stone, carved intricately to points and perfected angles. It was an ominous architecture, which you would have admired had it been day time and the shadows of the night didn’t cast a horrific feeling of dread in your bones. That dread became one with the intense fire that burned your skin from your fever and you gasped, pulling whatever air you could into your aching chest.  

You thought about Bromley when Oliver reached for the large, stone door-knocker that was carved as a circled snake. Had he really believed he would find death here? Why?

Welcome gusts of wind blew against your face when the door started to open inwards before Oliver had the chance to knock. The door groaned loudly, similarly to how you imagined wailing angels to sound. Just as Oliver hastily adjusted his grip on you, you first noticed the pin straight silver hair of the tall, lean man who stood in the entrance way and gazed directly at you with a single violet eye. 

He was devastating. With a solemn glow of an unfamiliar beauty under his skin that enhanced the sharp contours of his face and the red of his lips, his presence was overwhelming even as he stood silently and simply observed. Brutal calm was all that you could decipher from his expression but there was a deeper, far more intense darkness in his eye that spoke of something unrestrained and feral, passionate and destructive. 

Aemond Targaryen was both captivating and lethal. The moonlight was much of a blessing, you managed to notice even in your disoriented state of mind, as it cast a perfect light over him in a way that made him seem angelic. 

The first thing he had noticed was that you carried little else aside from a small rucksack loosely hanging from Oliver’s fingers, which was only a breeze away from falling to the floor, and the sack that was tucked against your stomach. Dusty red linen covered your body, loosely as if the dress were tailored incorrectly, dirty and torn at the edges. 

Surprisingly underwhelming for the raging storm that you had set upon Aemond’s mind and his senses, the moment you had been close enough for him to feel you. 

Somewhere close by the gates, when you had stepped from the confines of your carriage, the enchanting, mesmerising scent of you had hit Aemond with such force that he had to catch himself against a wall. A primal, crushing temptation had dried his throat and overpowered his mind for the time it had taken for Oliver to all but carried you to his doorstep. Without the chance to stop and calm the storm of a million untameable urges, Aemond had raced down from his study in a matter of seconds, stilling completely at the small sight in front of him. 

Your blood smelled so strongly, Aemond briefly found coherence in his mind to wonder if you were cut anywhere. 

Sweet. So, so sweet. And a punchy bitterness of an illness within your lungs, he presumed, from the rattle he could hear with each strenuous inhale. 

Aemond hummed, his fingers twitching against the wood of the door in restraint, trying to get a grip on the thrum of need and desire that scorched him. His tongue ran loosely across the sharp points of his canines once before he clenched his jaw and stared at you expectantly. 

It was no unfamiliar sight. Townspeople from all across the realm would find themselves at Harrenhal, balancing on the final string on the brink of snapping, reeking of illness and death. Yet Aemond, despite his efforts to remain stoic, fought hard to compose himself so that he wouldn’t bury his fangs into your tempting neck and suck you dry. 

Infection of the lungs would not be likely to have spread to your blood at this stage, but Aemond took no risks. Even more so when he was already weakened by the way your pretty eyes unravelled him violently despite the lethargy he could see in them. 

The last time Aemond had felt a hunger and a thirst so intense and so violent, it had resulted in the destruction of a town what must have been hundreds of years ago.  

Oliver had been speaking. Aemond didn’t care to listen. 

Instead he stepped out of the entrance, coming so close that he could practically already taste you on his tongue, the spike in your heartbeat at his sudden proximity sending a thrill down his spine. He reached to take your arm from Oliver to help you inside, jaw clenching harshly at the first touch of his hand under your bicep, revelling in the way you squirmed away from him with a whine. 

Good, Aemond thought. You have every reason to be afraid of something like him.

When Oliver jerked you away, Aemond growled. “Give her to me. I can help her.”

“I can bring my sister inside myself, my Lord,” Oliver only held you tighter against him. “I will stay with her. And as I said before, we can discuss payment.”

“You will not,” Aemond dropped his voice, narrowing his eye and reaching once more for your arm. You didn’t have the strength to keep yourself up as it was and so when he pulled you into his chest, with such strength that Oliver had all but fallen to the Lord’s feet, you collapsed right into his arms. “You will leave her with me. Ask no questions and do not return for seven nights. I will take a vial of your blood as payment. Bring it when you return and do not speak a word of it to anyone. I will bind you to your promise using your blood. You will not be able to break it. Should you find a way, I will know and she will suffer a death far worse than what she already faces. Do you understand?”

Another whine fell from your lips. A pretty sound that had a wave of heat rushing to Aemond’s cock at the weak, hopeless fear that he could both hear and smell on you. 

You looked to Oliver, suddenly far too exhausted even to find your voice, watching as he hesitated. The Lord Targaryen, who was both beautiful and terrifying, only waited with an ominous stillness. While his body held no warmth, he left a burn on your skin where he held you, trembling under his touch despite the way your body effortlessly fit perfectly against his own. 

Oliver nodded slowly and apprehensively. “That is all the payment you require?”

“No. But only your sister here-” Aemond silenced Oliver’s protests as soon as they started. “Only your sister can satisfy the rest of my payment. Do not worry, I will keep her safe so long as you do as I say.”

There was an oddly calming reassurance in the way the Lord spoke. You watched Oliver relax visibly at his words, as you did too, taking the mysterious Lord’s reassurance with an ease that silenced all of the doubts in your mind. Your eyelids drooped as the last of your energy drifted away, your mind growing foggy with exhaustion that only worsened your condition. 

The arm that held you reached around so that he had his hands free but still kept you caged against him, pulling you tighter into the Lord’s hard body. All that you could understand was the feeling of him surrounding you as you drifted slowly towards unconsciousness and delirium, your condition becoming too much to bear as it usually did at this hour. 

All the questions and fears you had disappeared, and you barely noticed as Aemond held you with one arm, reaching towards Oliver with the other. He brought your brother’s wrist to his lips, biting into his skin after flashing him a purposeful grin that had his long canines glinting under the moonlight. The underside of his eye darkened as he sucked, long lines of darkened black veins littering the top of his cheekbone.

Oliver’s eyes widened and he instantly started thrashing, fighting against the Lord’s hold and failing. “Monster! I will not leave my sister with you. Wait, no–!”

Aemond pulled away, letting your brother’s wrist bleed as he licked his lips that shone crimson, and sliced his own palm, holding it out and collecting both his own blood and Olivers in his hand. He forced it against Oliver’s lips, threatening him to lick and swallow the mixture of their blood, ignoring the way Oliver gagged and fought. “It is done.”

The sleep that came over you was short lived, and you gasped, coughing as you heard the heavy door slam behind you. You were inside suddenly, the loud thumping of Oliver’s fist against the door and his yelling became muted. A sharp, staggering fear gripped at your throat and stabbed at your belly and you let out a pathetic yell, your body failing to just move. Grunting, you tried to lose the haze that had overcome you, unable to find the strength even to lift your hand to reach towards the entrance.  “Don’t be scared, my sweet,” Aemond chuckled deeply, his mouth watering as he held you against him. He pressed his face into the crevice of your neck, inhaling deeply and groaning gently, squeezing the flesh of your hips with his hands. Gods, he could devour you. “I’ll take good care of you. You will have your strength back very soon.”