#vampire simon ghost riley

[cactusisconfused]

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

Anyway part 2 to Vampire Ghost

-

Ghost had fucked up royally.

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

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

But this time?

Yeah no, the variable changed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

fin.

-

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

[overthinkingbastard]

Ghost/Soap Vampire!AU

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

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

[resident-idiot-simp]

Love Bites

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Ye want a drink love?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[weepingcheesecakesandwich]

My Tik Tok is : CallSignVampir

[jackactuallywrites]

Thirst for Life

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

Pairing: Vampire Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

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

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

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

Word count: 1,974

ao3 link

So this was it.

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

Ghost could smell blood.

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

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

Blood.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

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

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

Then you were caught.

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

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

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

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

“I am so sorry.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Please don’t kill me.”

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

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

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

[dmitriene]

cw: blood

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

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

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

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

main masterlist. quidelines.

[gomzdrawfr]

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆Happy Halloween⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

[docdudo]

Vampire 141 - Fledgling!Reader

This was hell.

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

Should you call the support line after all?

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

But nooooo...

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

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

And it had been a vampire.

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

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

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

Problems like feral vampires.

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

Dangerous creatures...

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

But sometimes...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

EXCEPT!

You are fucking alive!!

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

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

It bit you, injecting its venom.

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

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

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

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

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

Which, unsurprisingly, they could.

At least, in theory.

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

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

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

What do they even do after transforming someone?

Are you really a vampire now??

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

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

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

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

"Dearie, what happened to you??"

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

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

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

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

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

But then again, college student.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Have you been attacked, dear?!"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And goddamn, these were NOT normal men.

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

But that wasn’t the weird part...

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

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

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

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

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

You can't take this anymore.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You could distinctly see a red glow beneath it.

"W-Wha—"

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

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

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

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

"E-Excuse me—"

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

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

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

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

...

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

God Fucking Dammit!!

[machveil]

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

he is your husband of four years

[amazeingartist]

lil vampire snacky time

[swordsandholly]

Fancy

Ch 2: Just Be Nice to the Gentlemen, Fancy

Previous | Next | Ao3

NSFW | MDNI

Vampire! Poly 141 x Fem! Plus Size! Reader

Word Count: 7k

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

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

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

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

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

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

It is what it is. Life goes on.

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

TWO DEAD: LOWER THIRD STREET - BOTH EXSANGUINATED

DISAPPEARANCES CONTINUE TO GROW IN NUMBER IN THE FRENCH QUARTER

ONCE AGAIN THE CITY COUNCIL OVERRULES SUIT FOR HUMAN REPRESENTATIVE CHAIR

UNIDENTIFIED SUBSTANCE FOUND IN JANE DOE

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

Nothing is new under the constant night.

Life goes on.

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

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

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

“You stole my clients!” She shrieks.

“I- what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But I don’t-“

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re a dog, Mr. MacTavish.”

“Och, ye wound me, lass.”

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

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

Top dog gets the chew toy.

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

“Suits not your style?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You scoff. “Me?”

“You’re a smart girl.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What kind of problem?” John demands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A promise.

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

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

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

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

“You just got here.” You murmur.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cheeky bastard.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You settle on a gentle “Maybe.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fucking Christ.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Gettin’ old, Johnny?” Kyle quips.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then again, maybe you’re just cock drunk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Y-you don’t have to-“

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

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

“Johnny behave himself?”

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

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

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

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

“You do.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

Okay.

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

These men are going to be the death of you.

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

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

[noheadcanons-juststories]

Vampire!141 x fledgling!reader, who was found abandoned and starved. meeting 141

“Who called you?” you demand to know.

“Amos,” the man with the chops answers.

Boss called them?

“Are you from the Night Council?” you dread.

“Not at all. Amos is an old friend of ours, back from service,” he explains. His voice was soft yet weathered, like an easy thunderstorm on the countryside. “He informed us that one of his employees was possibly attacked. Asked us to come help.”

So these men were not from the Night Council as you feared. But you were still weary to open the door.

“I didn't ask for help,” you retort with a raggedy cough. “Whoever you are, just… just tell him that I won't be coming in anymore.”

“Listen, lass,” a new man spoke up, very much Scottish with a very nice mohawk, “Amos called us in fer a favor. But once he explained the situation, we let him keep it. He's worried, and ye need someone to take care o’ ye. So we're here to help you.”

“Please…” you beg. “I don't wanna be treated like some charity case. So unless you're gonna kill me, just leave me alone.” You were tired, in pain. You could barely stand anymore.

The tall man in the skull-plated mask approaches your window, looking you dead in the eyes. “You really wanna die, fledgling?” a rougher voice asks. “‘Cause I can arrange that.”

“Simon,” Chops quietly reprimands.

“No, Cap, we need to get this outta the way,” ‘Simon’ persists. “‘Cause m'not gonna come all the way here for a fledgie too weak to live.”

“Bit harsh, dontcha’ think, Lt.?” Scot frowns.

Simon ignores him. “The reason we're here is because our friend is worried about his employee,” he tells you. “He fuckin’ cares about you. Now, we can be civil, and you let us in. Or we can cut to the end, and I put you out of your misery, quick and painless. So what's it gonna be?”

As he speaks, you slowly slide down to the floor. Pulling your blankets tighter around you. Truthfully, neither option sounds appealing. You don't know these men. Childhood lessons on stranger danger and accepting help from strange men never prepared you for the undead. But on the other hand, did you really want to go out a pathetic, dehydrated corpse? There's only two outcomes with two different paths leading to either. Die or find a clan. The Night Council does not guarantee anything except your immediate end. Meanwhile, Amos got a clan on speed dial for you.

John sits down by your window. “Listen, love…” he speaks softly. “We're here because Amos refused to call the Night Council on ya. And I don't blame him. They're diligent, but they're still pretty ruthless. Especially towards those abandoned. He called us because he knew we were the better choice.”

 You lean against the wall. “You could've refused…” you whisper.

“Could’ve,” John shrugs. “But didn't want to.”

“Why not?”

There were a few reasons…

“‘Cause I’d hate for a fledgling to die without bein’ given a chance,” he responds.

…One of them being that he was once in the same boat as you when he was first turned, albeit through uglier circumstances…

“Regardless of how you got here, you need someone to show you the ropes.”

…He was looking to sire another vampire after Kyle, despite his own reservations about immortality. Amos just happened to call while he was brewing in his thoughts, surprised that the old faun still had his number…

“And it'd be a shame to lose a sweet soul like you.”

…And Amos had only good things to say about you, practically gushing as if you were his own kid. Kind yet firm with a bit of confidence, you were.

You let out a sigh, frowning as you reconsider your options. Your expression worsens when you remember that you only have two. “What's your name?” you ask the vampire.

“John Price.”

“What do you do, Mr. Price?”

“I hunt vampires.”

You giggle after letting the thought simmer for a bit. “You hunt vamps?”

“Only the bad ones,” he smiles.

“Do I… I don't fit that criteria, do I?” you question.

John shakes his head. “No. Not at all.”

“...Mr. Price?”

“Yeah, love?”

“I'm scared,” you admit.

“I know,” is all he says. “That's why we're here.”

Kyle joins John's side beneath your window. Then Johnny, who doesn't want to be left out, and lastly, Simon, who doesn't want to be left behind at all. The men sit underneath the glow of the Half Moon. Small chirps in the grass and distant hooting in the trees bring a peaceful ambiance to the evening. Coupled with the bipolar winds of Spring gently weaving through the grassy fields.

“Whaddya wanna do, lass?” Johnny asks you.

“I don't know,” you say, trying not to cry for the umpteenth time.

“Well then,” Simon speaks up again, “whaddya not wanna do?”

“...Not hurt anyone… and not die.

John nods once. “Alright… that's a good place to start… Think you can unlock the door for us?”

It's silent for a bit, but you don't go to the door. Instead, you unlock the window and crack it open just a tad. The four men look back to see you stick your hand out, pale and spindly, which Kyle takes into both of his.

“We're right here for you, fledgie,” he comforts you, gently squeezing. “And we're not leaving you behind.”

And for that moment, you believe him.

Role Call!: @boy-pussyyy

[overthinkingbastard]

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

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

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

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

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

[ghcstao3]

soap can never quite place ghost’s accent. at first he suspects it’s just a cause of ghost having grown up in various places, or maybe some constant influences in his life during childhood. but then sometimes there’s these glimpses of very out-of-place accents, sometimes accents soap doesn’t recognize in the slightest.

(it would be quite some time before soap figured it out—or, well, before he was told—because it’s not something he would’ve guessed in a million years. the same day he learns supernatural creatures are real is the same day he learns ghost is something of an ancient vampire who’s just about completely lost track of time and accents and sometimes languages, though the last one isn’t as often a problem as it is an asset with how often they work internationally. somehow this explanation makes a lot of sense to soap.)

[animasola86]

🐇 DOWN THE RABBIT HOLE

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Where am I? What happened?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“B-but...”

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

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

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

“No,” you whisper breathlessly.

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

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

“Mhm what? Yes or no?”

“Yes,” you gasp out quickly.

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

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

You stare at him, frowning deeply.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It's all too much, and not enough.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“That she is...”

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

“Let us see?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Will you ever be old enough?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is your life now.

Thank you for reading!

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

MASTERLIST // AO3 // ORIGINAL WORKS

KINKTOBER 2024 MASTERLIST

[finemadeline]

There’s an ache in his sharp canines, and pounding in his jaw. A need to sink his teeth into the nearest thing and drink until his stomach aches and his greed is satiated.

He shouldn’t have starved himself for so long. Fought the feeling tooth and nail, until his carnal need took over. Made him move on muscle memory — his senses more keen to find the perfect prey.

And what a meal he found. One of divine intervention sent straight from the devil himself. One with a scent so sweet it clogs his nose and makes his head throb with need. A treat to savor, a gift to relish in. Prey to keep.

And you couldn’t help your situation. Lonely, but dressed up so pretty. Cute kitten heels and a shirt meant to show a bit of cleavage — makeup painted on meticulously.

Still lonely, regardless.

Wandering aimlessly through the crowd, with a permanent scowl on your face at how your friends left you alone. Bag clenched to your side and eyes burning with tears, as you walk into the hole in the wall, too angry to notice his heavy gaze.

When he sends you a drink, finally realizing his eyes and cracking a small smile, moving closer to strike conversation, he grins — sharpened canines showing. Gleaming in the light. Ready to sink into the nape of your neck and coax your sweet voice to whine for him.

He looks no farther. He’s found you.

A treat to savor. A gift to relish in. Prey to keep.