#haliweeen

[sailoryooons]

Fang Daddy | knj (m)

☾ Pairing: Vampire!Namjoon x fledgling! F. reader

☾ Summary: Ever since Namjoon turned you into a vampire, there is only one thing that you crave more than blood. Good thing your sire is more than happy to indulge in his sweet little vampire fledgling. 

☾ Word Count: 3,801

☾ Genre: PWP, Supernatural, Vampires, Established Relationship

☾ Rating: 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging and reading this content. It contains explicit content and any minors discovered reading or engaging with this work will be blocked immediately.

☾ Warnings: Explicit sexual content, blood sharing, depictions of blood, feral fucking, vaginal fingering, nipple play, biting and a lot of teeth and spit and blood they’re vampires, a lot of carnal feelings, dom/sub themes, oral (f. receiving) cum eating, obnoxious use of the word daddy, subspace implications/descriptions, bodily fluids, a lot of feral thinking, explicit language, vaginal sex (reader on top), a bit rough, light degradation, reader is super needy, use of ‘good girl’ I think that’s it. 

☾ Published: October 12, 2023

☾ A/N: This is a pseudo-request because @kithtaehyung and I are unhinged and somehow this is where we ended up. I am not responsible for literally anything this might awaken inside of you because this is actually what Namjoon speaking/existing awakens inside of me - and I made it Halloweenie. This is just straight-up feral sex I don’t even know if it makes sense in parts. This is mostly unedited!

☾ A/N 2: Mildly inspired by this video

☾ Disclaimer: All members of BTS are faces and name claims for this story. This is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment, or representation of real-life people. Any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real-life scenarios.

Masterlist | Ask | Haliween Requests

“Everything okay, baby?” Namjoon’s rough voice comes through the phone. You squirm, feeling your stomach tighten. “Talk to me.”

Even the sound of his voice makes the air in the room feel thick. Heady. You can hear everything so clearly on his side of the phonecall: party noise, loud voices, the sounds of clicking champagne glasses and laughter. He tries to muffle the sound of the party, but your hearing is sharper now. Better.

You imagine Namjoon standing in the corner of the party, phone tucked to his ear, head bent down as he murmurs into the receiver. A shiver ripples through you and you can’t help but make a soft sound. The sheets in his bed are too hot against your skin, feeling staticky as you slide your legs open. You haven’t made a move to touch yourself but just the imagery of him makes your core ache.

Namjoon hears you, of course. His hearing is too sharp not to. He hums, almost a growl in the back of his throat. “Is that why you called me, baby?” 

“Yes.”

“I haven’t been gone that long.”

You stick your bottom lip out. A tingling sensation spreads over your skin from the tone of his voice. When he answered, he had sonded concerned. He’d only been gone for about two hours, nothing serious. But now, his voice has shifted. It’s darker, teasing. 

“What do you need?” 

“You.” 

It’s an honest answer. The only one that you ever have, these days. With the way your senses have been heightened since Namjoon has turned you, all you can think about his him. The smooth, warm skin of his neck. The spicy sent of his cologne and natural musk of his skin. His deep, throaty laugh as he lets you nuzzle into him, dig into him, do whatever you want. 

Blood lust keeps you from going to parties with him. You’re not ready. Not this early, and certainly not with Namjoon, who acts like a natural sparkplug for you. Even with him in the same room, your instincts and rational thought blur the line between beast and person. 

“Yeah?” he asks. Cocky. Assured. You roll to the side, hiding your face in the pillow. “Want me to come come and take care of you?”

You nod, but he can’t see you. He hums a question and you open your mouth, feeling the throbbing in your gums intensify at the thought of him coming home. “Please.”

“Okay. Give me twenty minutes, alright?”

“Thank you.”

“Thank you… what?”

You feel the heat creep up your neck, a blooming inferno of pleasure and embarrassment and shyness all wrapped up into a smooth little cocktail. “Thank you, daddy.” 

“Anything for you baby.” Just as you go to hang up, Namjoon adds in a warning, “Don’t you dare touch yourself without me.” 

Even giddy from the threat, you listen to him. Instead of toeing the line of how far you can push him, you lay in bed like a good little fledging. Before you were turned, being stubborn with Namjoon was one of your favorite things to do. He’s not quick to anger, he has all the time in the world for your shenanigans, and he is more than happy to wait until you behave yourself. 

Wait is no longer in your vocabulary. Vampirism comes along with life-changing traits. Better hearing, smell, and site. You’re much faster and you don’t need sleep as much - and according to Namjoon, eventually won’t need it at all. You’re nearly invincible, and once you pass the blood phase, you can return to mixing in a normal diet with your A Positive drinks. 

But something you didn’t expect was sensation. Everything feels more. Emotionally. Physically. Mentally. Music moves through you differently, bringing you to tears as you hear notes and sounds you’ve never noticed before. Skin-to-skin touch drives you wild, like your outer layer of flesh has become a minefield of nerve receptors, sparking at the slightest touch. 

It is overwhelming and addicting, and you’ve learned right away that making Namjoon punish you for flirting with rebellion will drive you into hysterics faster than it will drive you to pleasure.

So you wait, just like he asked. 

Hot air clings to your skin. Temperature eventually won’t bother you, but you’re still a fledging. With each day, things that were normal as a human will fade. Some things - like the eating - will return. For now, you feel flustered and shaky, knowing Namoon is coming home. 

Your Namjoon. Your boyfriend. And sire. 

Namjoon explained the convoluted relationship between sire and fledging only once. You have barely listened, to fixate on the bass thumping beat of the pulse in his neck. It isn’t uncommon for fledglings to be attached to their sires, especially since the vampire’s blood flows through the veins of their newly turned companion.

Plus, it’s easier to drink from Namjoon than from a person. Blood bags work fine. Deer work better. But when Namjoon lets you sink your teeth into his tender flesh to taste his most recently meal is divine, driving you somewhere between hunger and lust, trying to straddle both. 

When the door to the loft opens, you sag in relief. Sweat beats on the back of your neck as you sit up a little in bed. Pillows prop you up. You’re in one of his shirts, the fabric soft and smelling like him, reaching to your mid-thigh. 

Seeing him ignites your instincts, gasoline to a flame. Your fangs prick at your gums, the ache intensifying as you feel them slide out gently, prodding your tongue lightly. Your breathing quickens and your eyes zero in on him, unable to tear your eyes away.

He looks good tonight. He looks good always, but the way the turtle neck hugs the wide frame of his body makes your mouth salivate, drool pooling on your tongue. His arms ripple under the dark fabric as he stands by the door, shuffling his shoes off. 

The dark shirt is tucked into perfectly tapered black dress pants, showing off his perfect waist. Namjoon’s dark hair is styled back and out of his face. The silver hoop in his right ear catches the moonlight when he turns to look at you, full lips spreading into a grin. 

Namjoon rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. Your eyes dart to the smooth, tan ski no his forearms. You can already smell the blood pumping through him. It’s hot. Fresh. Your fingers grip the sheets as you sit up eagerly, realizing he must have fed just for you. To let you drink. 

His gait is smooth and casual. You say nothing as you stare at him. He crosses the spacious, warehouse-style loft until he’s standing in front of the bed, looking down at you, a pile in the sheets and blankets. 

Slowly, Namjoon dips his gaze down to the apex of your thighs, which are squeezed shut and shaking. Every hair stands up on the back of your neck as Namjoon puts a single knee onto the mattress. It sinks under his weight and he leans forward, hand brushing your knees to ease your legs open. 

Your legs slide against the fabric unde you smoothly, feeling like heavy. It flusters you, but not nearly as much as Namjoon looking at your dripping folds, nostrils flaring. He smirks and meets your gaze, his eyes dark as ever. 

“Let me see your hands.”

You untwist them from the sheets and hold them up. He leans forward more catching your fingers to twist them in the light. Your eyes flutter shut at the spark of his touch, pleasure rippling through you. It makes you go pliant. His tough fingertips turn your hands this way and that, every brush of them against your skin making you burn. 

“Good girl,” Namjoon croons. You open your eyes as he drops your hands. Belatedly, you realize he was checking to see if you’d touched yourself and left signs of stickiness on your fingertips. He crawls onto the bed properly, shuffling until he’s on his knees between your legs. “Does it ache?” 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

Letting your head fall to the side, you close your eyes. Your pussy pulses between your legs, desire so raw for him that you have to clench your teeth to stop from crying. Namjoon’s hand skim up and down your thighs, each stroke sending you further into a pent up craze. Your heart thunders against your chest, louder and louder until you can hear your own blood rushing through your body, hunger spiking. 

When you open your eyes, you meet Namjoon’s. It’s quiet in the room. Your tongue runs over the tips of your fangs. They pinch tender flesh and you open your mouth a little, flashing Namjoon your pearly little incisors. 

Namjoon’s gentle hands turn to blunt nails scraping down your thighs. “What do you want?” 

“Daddy.”

“Need to be taken care of?” You nod, head starting to get cloudly with want. 

It’s hard like this. To figure out how to articulate. Your tongue is heavy in your mouth and your gaze is trapped on his neck. The subtle pulse drags you in. You don’t think in words so much as images and feelings. Brief flashes of what you want to do as an idea more than a thought. 

Stuck between giving in to a primal instinct and being a thought-processing human leaves you in a stretch of grey that only Namjoon knows how to navigate for you. Because he knows you and what you need. Knows just what to do to get you through it.

“I’ve got you, baby.” He grips the bottom of your shirt - his shirt - and pulls upward. The scrape of the cotton against your skin is like fire. “You remember how to tell me when it’s too much?”

Too much is very likely to happen. It has before. When the thoughts, the feelings, and the sensations are so overwhelming that it suddenly feels like you will blink out of existence.

“Yes, daddy.” 

The nickname drips from your tongue like nectar. You don’t remember when you started calling him that, only that it feels good and that you like the way his mouth twitches upward when you say it. Like the way it makes him a little more feral. 

“Tell me.”

“Indigo.”

Cool air pebbles your nipples. You shiver, exposed, and splay out for him. His dark eyes drink you in. Twisting your fingers in the sheets, you watched with hooded eyes, feeling the arousal drip drip drip between your legs. 

Namjoon’s hands are like embers as he traces your skin. Up your legs, hips, stomach, fingers tracing under the swells of your breasts. His fingers stroke upward, dizzying touch circling your nipples gently. It hurts. The ache for him is deep, your mouth falling open to reveal your fangs as you hiss. 

His mouth twitches as he lowers himself down. The anticipation makes you suck in a sharp breath, holding it trapped until it comes out in a long, wined whine as Namjoon’s tongue flicks at your hardened nipple. 

Immediately your hands shoot up to his arms. He doesn’t mind, letting you dig your nails into his shirt as he sucks generously at your tit, sending you wild. The sensation is overpowering. You feel a ringing in your ears as you press your chest up into his mouth. 

More more more more. 

You don’t realize you’re babbling, saying the words out loud until he’s laughing, dark voice vibrating through your skin as he kisses his way to your other nipple. 

“More?” he asks. “You know how to ask.”

“Please,” you gasp, feeling the tip of his tongue apply the barest pressure imaginable. “Please, it hurts.”

Namjoon’s fangs scrape sensitive flesh. It makes you sing, squeezing your eyes shut as you pant through what is barely the beginning of intimacy. You’re already woozy and preening and light-headed and he knows it. Maybe takes a little pity on you. 

Normally, Namjoon likes to take his time. Now, he moves with more urgency. He dives in for your neck, plying your skin with wet, generous kisses as he does. You bare your neck for him, pliant and obedient, knowing that your artery is there for the taking if he wants to.

Blood sharing is intimate between vampires. Even sires rarely share blood with their fledglings the way Namjoon does. It’s only done between the most precious of partners, between two vampires ready to consume one another. To be one another. 

Anything less would be an act of cruelty or desperation, and this is neither.

Namjoon doesn’t bite down, though. He slides his hand between your legs, fingers brushing against your sticky folds to relieve some of the tension. You whimper, nodding your head to unasked questions as his fingers lazily trace circles around your clit.

Pleasure ebbs and flows, your blood rushing. You can feel your heart thundering in your chest as he kisses his way up to your mouth, stealing your lips in a searing kiss. It’s all tongue and fangs, the wet slide of his lips against yours messy and carnal and hungry.

Your hips roll into his hand as Namjoon plays with your cunt properly. You’re relentless, rolling your hips into the palm of his hand, pressing your swollen clit against him for friction. It’s a messy slide but it feels so good, brows pinched, mouth open as you pant. 

Namjoon sinks a finger into your throbbing entrance and you go mad. Your nails rake down his sleeves, tearing fabric as you go. Your legs shake, muscles squeezed tight as he fucks his fingers up into you, meeting your sloppy thrusts. 

It’s feral and heated, driven purely by the inferno burning in your stomach. Namjoon catches your earlobe between his fangs, dragging the sharp points across soft flesh. You let out a loud, wanton sound, unable to control yourself. 

Shaking. Sweaty.  Deteriorating. This is what he does to you with just his hands. His fingers press into your cunt, hitting your spot each time. It feels like pandemonium, walls clenching down on his fingers as you start to come loose around him. 

“Fuck you’re a mess,” he growls, nipping your jaw as you frantically chase an orgasm. The wet slap of his fingers is loud, backtracked by your shaky breathing. “Fucking my hand like a little whore.”

“Daddy,” you mumble, eyes rolled back. You know it’s depraved. You don’t care. You just want him. Anyway you can have him.

Namjoon knows. His mouth goes to your neck. Your breath hitches, waiting as the flat of his tongue laps against your pulse point. When he bites down, you unravel. 

Pain and pleasure unfurl, white-hot. You gush around his fingers, body convulsing. The warmth at your neck sedates you momentarily, knocking you into a state of bliss. Your head spins and it feels like you’re everywhere and nowhere all at once, not even breathing. 

Namjoon takes long draughts. You feel his tongue pressed against your punctured skin. Feel the hot, slow bead of blood dripping down your neck to your shoulder. Every nerve is on fire and alive.

“Want,” you gasp. Namjoon removes his mouth from your neck. You feel the blood running, sticky. “Want want want want want.”

Namjoon kisses you. He tastes like blood, tongues tangling. You suck his tongue into your mouth generously, making him moan deep in his throat. The sound of him drives you further. You surge upward, seeking and hungry, hands tearing. He snarls when you rip off the shirt but he has others. Nothing is more important than him - than this.

Warm skin meets your hands. Vampires recently fed aren’t cold at all, their skin burning with fresh blood and heat trapped between you. Your fingers explore the taught muscles of his chest, the dips in his biceps and shoulders. Namjoon is a work of art, towering over you as he sits up to kick off his pants, movements blinding. 

Your hands don’t remain still, grabbing any part of him you can, mouth latching on. You suck at his wrist, forearm, bicep. Anything you can taste, your mouth is there, searching. You don’t bite, though. Not until he lets you. Not until you have his permission.��

Namjoon ducks between your legs. You gasp, feeling his tongue eagerly sliding up your folds. Your hands shoot to his hair, locking in his silky strands as he drinks you down.

It's feverish. Your feet kick out as Namjoon ravishes you, tongue plunging into your cunt, mouth sucking greedily on your clit. The stimulation is maddening, sending you shrieking toward another high.

He doesn't stop, smacking his lips together, licking, gasping, pressing his face further and further until he's shoving you up the bed, tongue buried inside of you.

Namjoon sucks your clit into his mouth, tongue flicking over the swollen bud. You squeal and crash down, orgasm washing through you as you come into his mouth.

He devours, tongue lapping, mouth sucking. He leaves nothing spared, and when he finally pulls away, panting and shining with cum and blood, the bottom half of his face slick and eyes blown, you know that you'll never want someone else. Anything else.

The world spins when Namjoon lifts you. You blink and he’s under you, his thick cock leaking onto his stomach. Your mouth waters as he settles you in his lap, his back against the pillow. Namjoon looks like a dark god, his sweaty hair falling into his dark eyes, mouth kissed with crimson, tan skin glowing. 

Your hands go to his face, cradling his jaw. For a second, your touch is soft. Nestled in his lap, you trace the outline of his jaw, brushing your fingers to wet lips. He is yours. You are his. In body, soul, and blood. His gaze softens, as though he sees this too. 

“Mine,” you murmur, thumb pulling at his bottom lip. Your gaze meets his. “Right, Daddy?” 

“Yours,” he agrees, lifting your hips with one hand and stroking his cock with the other. He settles you over the dark tip and you shiver, head tilting back. “And you are mine.”

In a single, fluid motion, Namjoon spears you on his shaft. You let out a shriek, pleasure bolting through you. You feel full, gasping as you’re fully seated in his lap. Namjoon doesn’t wait for you to adjust, pulling you in to lay against his chest as he plants his feet on the bed, fucking up into you.

You go mute. Your body slides against his, your chest pressed against his, your face buried in his neck. You can smell the blood there, and hear the beating pulse like a siren’s call. Drink drink drink. 

You wait, completely distracted by the way Namjoon thrusts into you, jostling your frame into his. His arms are wrapped tight around your waist, your knees digging into the bed. He gives and you just take, eyes rolling back in your head, blood running down your neck, mouth slack. 

Despite his ferocity, it’s intimate. You feel every breath Namjoon takes. Feel his thighs flex underneath you, feel the way your arousal slides down your legs onto his waist as he fucks you. It’s feral but it’s different, a tether of emotion that goes deeper than anything you could perceive as a human snapping between you. 

Namjoon slides down the bed a little. Changes the angle so that he’s hitting you deeper, harder. You clench your teeth, barely hanging on to your sanity as you wait for him to give you permission to bite him. Your mouth salivates at the thought, his blood roaring in your ears. 

You roll your hips into him. It’s a little disjointed but it works, sliding along his cock as he drives you closer and closer to the high roaring inside of you. It’s so close you can feel it burning, nova under your skin. Only Namjoon can do this to you, lighting you up until you’re burning so hot you can’t take it. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck. No thoughts trespass here. It is only the shivering pleasure as Namjoon relentlessly takes you, growing. You scoot your face toward his neck, nose pressed against hot skin. You’re trembling, completely at his fingertips. 

Waiting. Waiting.

“Go ahead, baby,” he grunts, fingers digging into the globes of your ass. “You’ve been so good.” 

“Thank you,” you whisper, voice barely audible even to your sensitive ears. “Thank you.”

Finally, you indulge. You open your mouth against Namjoon’s neck, soft and tentative. Your tongue sweeps across salted, hot skin. You whine, feeling his pulse beating under the tender skin. Your fangs scrape against him and he moans, arms tightening around you.

And then you bite down. 

Namjoon moans. You lose yourself in the sweet taste immediately, like cherry wine rushing into your mouth. Rapture. You drink slowly. Soft. Gulping as your veins ignite. Every atom lights up along the way, until you’re a vibrating mass of energy. 

It’s like threads of awareness connect you. You feel Namjoon’s burning desire, his hunger for you. The deep-rooted adoration and love for you, a river that runs down to his marrow. You bathe in it, letting the connection wash over you. 

Blood sharing gives you glimpses to Namjoon that you normally don’t see. Flashes of the way he sees you, his heart fluttering. Snatches of seeing something at a store that reminds him of you. The way you taste to him, the way he wants to hold you and never let go. 

It’s so much. 

You don’t take much. You know your limit, and as your thoughts start to black out, you remove your mouth, gasping. Your head falls to Namjoon’s shoulders, eyelids fluttering. Your stomach coils on the edge of another orgasm so strong that you just let it happen. Let it slam into you, a rogue wave. 

The world blinks out of existence. There’s just the smell of Namjoon. The ghost of his mouth on your temple, and the softest feeling of floating. This is what you crave. The feeling of lightness with the accompanying touch of Namjoon. Because even in this space alone, there is a thread back down to him, a beacon to pull you back.

Slowly, you come back to him. You feel his heart beating against yours. You move your head, nuzzling into him. You feel flaky, dried blood but you don’t care, nuzzling into him. Your Namjoon. His arms are steady around you like a cocoon. 

You have never been safer. More loved.

“Thank you,” you whisper, voice raspy. 

“Always.” 

You settle in comfortable silence, wrapped up in one another. Nothing will ever beat this. A thousand lifetimes with Namjoon is all you ever need to do this as many times as you want. 

“You okay?” you nod against him. Your fingers slide up his neck and face to card through his hair, playing with the strands. Your eyes are still closed, enjoying the sound of his heartbeat. “Good.” 

“A little needy.”

“You? Needy? Unheard of.” he teases.

You grin. The carnal desire from earlier washes away, fed. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be. It’s really hot.” You hum, continuing to play with his hair but saying nothing. “I’m kind of like your fang daddy, huh?” 

Your hand pauses and you crack an eye open. Namjoon is grinning up at the ceiling, eyes turned to crescent moons as he tries not to laugh at his joke. Gone is the dark, powerful vampire, replaced by the sweet, boyish man that you love just as much. 

“Namjoon,” you chastise, tugging his hair a little.

He giggles. “How about fang father?” 

You sigh. “Whatever you want. Anything you want.” 

He kisses your temple and lets you fall asleep. 

[sailoryooons]

Mine | Teaser | myg (m)

→ Summary: Yoongi lives a quiet life. His days are organized neatly, and every week he can expect the same results. Then he meets you. Hypnotizing. Otherworldly. Strange. And his life never goes back to the way it was before.

→ Pairing: Yoongi x Succubus F. Reader

→ Rating: NSFW & 18+ Minors are strictly prohibited from engaging with this content. Any minors discovered interacting with adult content will be blocked immediately.

→ Teaser Warnings: Recreational drinking, explicit language, Yoongi is in a weird headspace similar to hypnotism or being drunk

→ Type: One shot

→ Genre: Smut, Horror, Thriller

→ Main Masterlist: here

→ faq | taglist request 

Coming Monday, October 31 - Happy Haliweeen

Yoongi opens and closes his mouth. He tries to find a response to Taehyung, but his tongue feels heavy in his mouth and something tingles along every hair on his arm and neck, a sense of awareness as you lean on the bar to order yourself a drink. 

Again, your voice haunts Yoongi in a matter of seconds. He feels the need to turn and look at you again, but he doesn’t want to be weird. He’s already fallen off the stool once, and he doesn’t plan on further exacerbating his humiliation. 

So, Yoongi remains facing Taehyung. Clutches his whiskey glass with shaking hands. Tries to take a breath – it comes out shaky – to calm himself. He has no idea what kind of delirium is threatening him every moment you’re next to him, but he wants to fight it - tries to fight it. 

“Are you okay?” Taehyung’s brows twitch, mouth pouting. He ducks his head slightly, trying to find Yoongi’s gaze, but the older keeps his eyes fixed on the wood grain bar. Yoongi wants to look at you again. So bad. Wants to ask you your name. Wants to memorize the curves of your mouth. Wants to memorize every stroke of color in your eyes. 

Want want want want. 

A sudden throb pulses in Yoongi. He doesn’t know where it comes from, but he feels it bloom inside of him, unfurling with warm petals of want want want want. 

The urge to turn and look at you gets stronger. 

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck – 

Yoongi grits his teeth. Feels pressure at the back of his head, like there are featherlight fingers pressing into the base of his skull to urge him to turn around and look at you again. His muscles constrict and he feels himself start to turn, hips beginning to swivel in your direction, arms rigidly placed on the bar as if to fight his lower half. 

When he doesn’t turn to look at you, Yoongi swears he imagines the light press of fingers turning into a steal grip. His eyes start to water and he clenches his teeth, feeling an immovable force on him pulling, dragging, tearing - and he lets out a small gasp, the grip on him so strong that he- 

“Yoongi,” Taehyung says again, voice firmer. Yoongi looks up this time, eyes soft and round, face flushed. There’s a little sweat collected on his brow, and Yoongi feels a dull throb at the back of his head like a fading migraine. “What’s wrong?”