#higher vampire x reader

[ysrjune]

౨: SAM MONROE ໒; TWILIGHT AU

[ inspired by something I saw on tumblr/bot on j.ai made by erosmutt. ]

[ I don’t think this is in chronological order of the saga but if it is then yippee!! ]

[ no cullens. rosalie, jasper, emmett, alice, esme, and carlisle exist but under different names. no y/n. 3rd person. doesn’t mention reader being a Swan, but you could imagine it that way. not proof-read. I think my math was lowkey off by a little bit LMFAO ]

໒: Sam Monroe became a vampire back in 2001. He would have been 42 if he was actually alive now, but he's stuck in his 16 year old body. The young boy was hospitalized after an overdose and was dying. What nobody knew was that one of the doctors at that hospital was immortal. He had created a “family” of vampires before even reaching Sam. The young boy grew on the Dr. Kevin in a short amount of time, leading to biting Sam and turning him into a vampire before he reached death.

໒: Another year in high school. Hes learned everything already (only 20 years after he died did he actually pay attention) and now he could actually not pay any attention to his teachers, but still know the answer to every question he was asked.

໒: Sam is a 40 year old man. He's matured since he was 16. Now he doesn't skip class, does his work on time, cooperates on group assignments without fussing—he does everything he didn't do all that time ago. He still prefers to keep to himself, though.

໒: What seemed like his millionth junior year, you switched to his highschool in Forks. You were in his biology class and of course the teacher had to sit you next to him. He kept his eyes to himself but he so desperately wanted to get a better look at you. Sam had only glanced at you when you walked in, but he knew you were beautiful. You smelled great, too. One thing bothered him, though. He couldn't read your thoughts.

໒: Everytime you tried to make small talk with him, he never answered with real words. A shrug, shaking or nodding of the head.. thats all. He didnt even bother to spare a glance. He kept his eyes on his notebook where he would doodle things, and after that first day.. he didn't go to school for 2 weeks. Was it your fault? did you annoy him? a bunch of questions flooded your head.

“Do you guys know that Sam kid? pale skin and black hair with a blue stripe..” you ask the group of kids you started sitting with 2 weeks ago. “Who doesn't know him,” Avery, a girl with black hair and green eyes, answers you. “hes gorgeous.” she continued and smiled. “got your eyes on him or somethin’ ?” Jeremy, a dirty blonde with dark brown eyes, asks. “No,” you shake your head, furrowing your eyebrows. “I just.. sit with him in bio. He hasn’t been here since my first day.” Jeremy shrugs. “He dissappears a lot. Him and his siblings. Their dad likes to take them out everywhere out of town randomly.” he explains. “how many siblings does he have?” you asked Jeremy while picking at the split ends in your hair. “four, but they're like.. dating. its really weird.” Avery rolls her eyes. “They arent actually related. They're all adopted, so you know.. they arent blood.” she lets you in on what was going on between that family. “All those kids have different last names. They have the dads name, yeah, but they dont really use it. Its just there.” she says. “okay well its still really frickin weird. I mean, they sleep under the same roof. like, thats gotta be freaky.” Jeremy shakes his head. “just mind your business, jer.” Joanna, another girl who sat at the table groans.

໒: Just a few days after that conversation at lunch, Sam came back. He was sitting at the lab you two were assigned seated in, and once you walked in, he looked up at you. “Hi..” he starts off a few seconds after you sit in your stool. “Im Sam.. Monroe.” He introduces himself officially. “sorry I didnt get to introduce myself the other day. Im not good with talking to new people.” He confesses, still looking at you. “Its fine,” you assure him and look his way and introduce yourself to him. He managed to make a little bit more small talk after that.

໒: At lunch that day, you saw him sitting with his siblings. A girl with blonde hair whose name is Meli. Her boyfriend.. and adoptive brother, (yikes) Benny. Another boy and girl who were also 'together', Ryan and Julissa. Julissa had copper hair while Ryans hair was plain black. Your group was talking, but you zoned out while sneaking looks at Sam. His outfit today told you a lot about who he is. black cargo shorts, a green shirt underneath a metallica band T.. jewlery covering his wrists, neck, ears and mouth. He was some sort of punk, maybe.

໒: Overtime, he somewhat became your friend after months of trying to get to know him. Month 6 was when you found out his secret. It freaked you out, and it angered him because he knew thats how you'd act, but you just had to snoop around at libraries to read about immortals with cold skin, a diet of blood and lots of other things.

“I'm not afraid,” you tell him, but he knew it was a lie. He heard you heart racing. “You lie a lot. Not a good habit to fall into. Could get you into some serious trouble.” He walks behind you, but once you turn around.. he isnt there. you turn back around and find him standing in front of you, making you flinch. “how did–” “don't be stupid. you found me out so you know how I did that.” He towers over you. “You need to leave me alone. Dont talk to me again. Dont even look my way.” Sam mumbled. “You weren't supposed to find out.” “Anyone who isnt an idiot would know,” you snap back. “Well, congratulations, you arent an idiot. Want a cookie?” He sarcastically asks and walks off. You scoff and run after him. He wasnt using his super fast ability, but he still walked fast. “Sam, I cant just forget about this!” “try your very best, you can do it.” He replies. “Sam-” “shut the fuck up already, God damn!” He looks back at you. But something was off. He was sparkling in the sunlight that casted over him through the trees of the forest you two were in. “you sparkle?” you ask, trying to hold back all those jokes that came into your mind. “yeah, I use my sisters makeup everyday so I can shine.” He throws a sarcastic comment and rolls his eyes. “leave me alone.” but you didn't.

໒: “I'm like 40, you know that.” Sam smirks as you kiss his neck. “I shouldn't be seeing such an old man.. its gross.” you laugh, looking up at him. “super gross, but atleast I look seventeen, right?” he smiles. “sixteen.” you correct. “whatever,” he rolls his eyes and kisses you. Sam felt guilty. He felt like he was taking advantage of you because of how much older he is.. but it quickly went away when you stuck your tongue in his mouth.

໒: Sam hates your friend, Josh. Hes a fucking wolf.. he smells, isnt nearly as good looking as himself, he just.. he isnt trustworthy. “you dont trust me?” you ask Sam when he told you not to go with Josh to ride his motorcycle. “I do,” he shakes his head and looks at Josh. “Its him I dont trust.” Josh was in love with you, Sam wasnt stupid. He knew that you wouldn't leave him for Josh, but.. it still irked him how you still hung out with Joshua, knowing how much Sam didnt like him.

໒: Sam was the one to get you high for the first time. You've used drugs before, but not properly so it never had an effect. Even when Sam is fucking dead hes ruining his body. (not really..)

໒: Sam prefers to talk problems out but sometimes he just gets so angry that he cant help but yell at you. He goes too far sometimes and he doesn't apologize right away either. He just leaves and doesnt return for a few hours.. even days. He tries his best to make it up to you afterwards though.

໒: Hes always blasting his music in his airpods, room, car.. literally everywhere hes at. When you hangout in his room, theres always his playlist in the background.. but not on full volume so you could hear each other.

“I wont do it. You're crazy.” Sam says while looking for something in his drawer. You wanted him to turn you into a vampire judt like him but he hated the idea. “You're not gonna want me when im all wrinkly and disgusting.” you argue. Sam looks back at you with an irritated look. “you dont get how I feel about you, huh? I dont fucking care. I'll always want you, it doesnt matter what you look like.” he rolls his eyes and starts digging again. “Sam,” “Say one more thing about it and im taking you home. I'd never fucking do that to you. You dont know what you want.”

໒: weeks after that conversation, Sam waited for you outside your house when you came back from school. He asked you to go on a walk with him, and he looked really upset.

“we're leaving Forks.” He says, leaning against a tree trunk. “Kevin is supposed to be 10 years older than he looks. People are starting to notice.” He says, crossing his arms. Your heart started beating fast. “okay.. so what do I tell my dad? how am I gonna leave with you?” You ask. Sam looks you dead in the eye. “you don't. you're staying, I cant take you with me.” you had been together almost a year and he was just leaving like that? “so you're breaking up with me?” tears swell in your eyes. Sam doesnt answer. “you're not.” you shake your head. “you cant leave me.” you sob and hug him. “I can and I am. Look, ive been meaning to break this off anyway. We dont make any sense, babe. You're gonna die one day and what am I gonna do? Its better if I leave and un-attach myself.” he shakes his head. “I promise it'll be like I never even existed. You'll forget about me. It wont hurt you.” He looks down at you.

It really was like he never existed after a month that he left. No one talked about him or his family, your texts weren't going through to him or his siblings, your dad didnt ask about him and neither did Josh. Sam was gone. He was beginning to become a figment of your imagination. But he wasnt truly gone. You didnt really forget about him.

The pain reminded you that he was real.

@anakinstwinklebunny @lovethestarrs @literally-izzy @valloos @alexlovesysrjune

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[thewulf]

Adding One || Paul Lahote

Summary: Request - Hi I love your Paul lahote stories!! I was wondering if you could do one super fluffy where the reader finds out she’s pregnant but is worried how Paul will feel because they’re still young and all the werewolf and vampire stuff is going on at the time!!🩵

A/N: I just love Paul. Thank you for the requests as always! @lunajay33

Pairing: Paul Lahote x Reader

Word Count: 5.4k +

TW: Pregnancy

The warm scent of blueberry muffins filled Emily’s kitchen mingling with the faint tang of sea air drifting in through the open window. You were slouched in one of the chairs at her table with your cheek resting in your palm as you watched her move about the kitchen. The quiet hum of her voice as she talked about Sam and the pack was comforting, but it was hard to focus. Your stomach rolled again. That new unease building in the back of your mind.

“You’re quieter than usual,” Emily commented. Her voice cutting through the fog of your thoughts. She glanced at you over her shoulder, her sharp eyes softening when they landed on your face. “Are you feeling okay?”

You forced a smile, shrugging like it was nothing. “Just tired, I guess. It’s been a stressful few weeks, you know? All the patrols, Jacob imprinting on… that situation. It’s a lot.” You tried brushing her off.

Emily turned back to her muffins, humming as she pulled them from the oven and set them on the counter. “That’s true. It’s been hard on everyone.” She didn’t say anything else for a moment, but you could feel her watching you out of the corner of her eye. “Are you sure that’s all it is?” she asked gently not wanting to push too hard.

Your smile faltered. “Of course. What else would it be?”

Emily walked over and sat across from you. Her expression calm but concerned. “Well, you’ve been tired a lot lately. And you’ve barely eaten today. You won’t even touch my muffins like you always do. I also saw you push your plate away last week at dinner too.” She tilted her head, her tone as light as she could make it. “And I saw you make a face when I started the coffee earlier. You used to love coffee… I haven’t seen you drink a cup in weeks now.”

You stiffened slightly, trying to brush her off with a laugh. “I’m just… off, that’s all. It’s probably just stress or maybe a stomach bug. Nothing to worry about.” That unease grew in the pit of your stomach though.

She didn’t drop it. “Maybe,” she said slowly. Her dark eyes studying you. “But… have you thought it might be something else?”

You blinked at her, frowning. “Something else? Like what?”

She hesitated before she reached across the table to rest her hand on yours. “I don’t want to assume anything, but… you and Paul are together all the time. Could there be… another reason why you’re feeling this way?”

Her words hit you like a freight train and you immediately shook your head. Your voice pitching higher than you intended. “No. Absolutely not. There’s no way, Emily. We’re careful! I mean, mostly. But… no. That’s impossible.”

Emily gave you a patient look but didn’t pull her hand away. “I know you’re careful,” she said gently. “But accidents happen. When was the last time you had your period?” She asked the dreaded question… when was it?

The question made your heart lurch, and you froze. “I…” shit, you didn’t know, “I don’t know,” you stammered. “It’s been… I mean, I’m not great at keeping track, but…” Your voice trailed off as your mind began counting backward. The realization hitting you like a bucket of ice water on a freezing winter day. Your chest tightened. Your mouth suddenly ran dry.

Emily leaned forward slightly. Her voice soft but steady. “How long has it been?”

You swallowed hard while staring at her as the truth sank in. “I.... A month? Maybe more?” You guessed as you kept counting further back. No, it was more than a month now. It’d been nearly six weeks.

Emily’s expression didn’t change though there was a hint of sympathy in her eyes. “It might not be what you think,” she said carefully. “But maybe… maybe you should take a test. Just to be sure.”

Your stomach flipped at the thought, and you instinctively shook your head again. “I can’t. What if it’s positive? What am I supposed to do? What’s Paul going to say? What about the pack or my parents? Shit! My parents Em!” Your voice cracked, panic bubbling up as the possibility became more real. Pregnant. You couldn’t possibly be pregnant. No, it was just stress. You’d been so stressed lately. Periods were often late when stress was abundant. Yeah, just stress.

Emily squeezed your hand. Her calm presence grounding you. “If it’s positive, you’ll figure it out like you always do. You’re not alone in this, okay? You have me. You have Paul. And you have the while pack. Whatever happens, we’ll all be here for you.” Her voice was low and soothing as it always was. Her reassurance should have been comforting, but your thoughts were spiraling. The only thing you could focus on was the quiet truth settling into the back of your mind. You might really be pregnant. She stood with you still trying to process what was likely true.

Emily slipped out the door after giving you a reassuring smile. Her keys jingling as she walked to the front door. “I’ll be back in twenty minutes,” she’d said. “And don’t even think about panicking while I’m gone. Just breathe. I’m going to go buy one from the pharmacy. It won’t be a big deal if someone sees me buying one.” Easier said than done.

You sat stiffly on the edge of the couch with your knee bouncing restlessly as the minutes ticked by. Emily was right. If anyone saw her buying a pregnancy test, they wouldn’t think twice about it. She and Sam were married, in their twenties, and settled. But you? At nineteen, unmarried, and still figuring out your life, the very idea of people finding out sent a wave of nausea through you.

When Emily returned, she came through the door with the same calm efficiency as before. She held a small paper bag like it contained something perfectly ordinary. She set it down on the table while brushing the rain from her hair as she gave you a steady look. “Alright,” she said. Her tone light but firm. “No one saw me. Not that it would’ve mattered. But I figured you’d want to hear that.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Thank God. I’d die right here if word got back to my mom. Or the whole reservation.” You peeked through your fingers, your voice dropping to a mutter. “This place is like a fishbowl.”

Emily laughed softly and slid the bag toward you. “Relax. It’s done. Now, the next part is up to you.”

You stared at the bag. Your palms suddenly very disgustingly sweaty. Your heart hammered as you reached out and pulled the slim box from inside, the pink lettering glaring up at you like a warning. “I feel like I’m in one of those cheesy after-school specials,” you mumbled, your voice shaky as you tried to make light of the situation.

Emily gave your shoulder a comforting squeeze. “You’re not. You’re just figuring out what’s next. Go on. I’ll wait here.” With a long breath you stood and made your way to the bathroom, the box clutched tightly in your hands. The next few minutes felt like an eternity. You sat on the edge of the bathtub staring at the little plastic stick on the counter, its blank screen taunting you.

When your phone buzzed with the timer you’d set, your stomach flipped. You stood slowly, your hands trembling as you picked up the test. Two pink lines.

Positive.

Your knees felt weak as you gripped the counter for support as a tidal wave of emotions crashed over you. A strange mix of fear, joy, and uncertainty swirled in your chest, leaving you utterly breathless. You stared at the test for a long moment trying to process what it meant. Your hand drifted to your abdomen as you gulped.

When you finally emerged from the bathroom, Emily was waiting on the couch. Her face was soft as ever with understanding. She looked up as you stepped into the room, the test still clutched in your hand. “Well?” she asked gently. Her brown eyes searching your face for any sign of what it said.

You held up the test. Your mouth dry. “I guess I’m pregnant,” you said with your voice unsteady. Then in a weak attempt to lighten the mood you added with a shaky laugh, “Stealing Bella’s thunder, huh?” Bella’s pregnancy had been the talk of the pack ever since the group found out what she was carrying. Then the vampire human baby decided to make its appearance after only 28 days. The thought sent a shiver down your spine as you thought of what carrying a werewolf baby would entail.

Emily blinked, then burst into laughter. Her head tilting back as she shook her head. “Oh, you’ve got to stop hanging out with Paul so much. You’re picking up his sense of humor.” She grinned as she gave your arm a reassuring squeeze.

Despite your spinning thoughts her laughter pulled a smile from you. She wrapped you in a warm, steady hug. “It’s going to be okay,” she murmured, her voice firm. “Paul loves you so much. More than I ever thought he’d be capable of. You’re not doing this alone.” You clung to her words like a lifeline as tears brimmed in your eyes. You weren’t sad… no, not at all. You were simply overwhelmed as this had not been in your plans. You were going to get married to Paul in a few years and maybe have some kid’s years after that. Not now. But life had a funny way of throwing you completely off. First, being imprinted to a damned werewolf. Now this.

You sat at the kitchen table with the pregnancy test still in your hand. Emily had made you a cup of tea. The warm mug sitting untouched in front of you as your thoughts spiraled. You’d stared at the little pink lines so long now that they were practically burned into your vision. A constant reminder of the new, terrifying reality that had just taken shape.

Emily leaned against the counter, watching you with a mixture of patience and quiet concern. “What’s going on in that head of yours?” she asked gently.

You let out a shaky breath, placing the test down on the table so gently as if it might explode. “Everything,” you said. Your voice barely above a whisper. “I mean… Paul and I are nineteen. This wasn’t exactly in the plan. What if he’s not ready for this? What if he feels… trapped?” The thought made your stomach churn. You couldn’t shake the image of his face falling when you told him.

Emily frowned, stepping closer and taking the chair across from you. “Yes, you both are young, but you know he’s devoted to you. He’d run through fire for you without thinking twice. That’s the bond. It’s unshakable.”

You nodded slowly, but her reassurance only soothed one layer of your anxiety. “But what about my parents?” you asked. Your voice cracking yet again. “If they find out, they’ll never let me hear the end of it. They’ll say I’m ruining my life. That we’re not ready. And Paul’s parents… What if they think I’m irresponsible or… God forbid, trying to trap him or something?”

Emily shook her head firmly. “No one who knows you would think that. You and Paul have been through so much already and you’ve come out stronger every time. His parents will see that. His parents love you. And as for your parents…” She gave you a small, wry smile. “They’ll probably be shocked at first. Maybe even upset. But they’ll come around. They always do.”

You laughed bitterly, rubbing your temples. “It’s not just them. It’s the pack, too. What are they going to think? There’s so much going on right now. Jacob imprinting on a half-vampire baby, the Cullen drama, all of it. This is the worst time for this to happen. What if they see it as a distraction? What if they resent me for pulling Paul’s attention away?”

Emily reached out grabbing for your hand. “First of all, no one in that pack would resent you. You know how they are. They’re family, even if they don’t always show it the right way. And second, you’re not pulling Paul’s attention away. If anything, this will give him more to fight for. Plus, I think they all like you more than Paul anyway.” She added with a mischievous grin.

Your chest tightened at her words. A mix of hope and fear swirling inside you. “But what if I’m not enough?” you whispered. “What if I can’t handle this? What if I ruin everything?”

Emily’s grip on your hand tightened. Her scarred fingers warm and steady. “You’re more than enough,” she said firmly. “You’re strong and you have so many people who love and adore you. You’re not doing this alone. Paul’s going to be over the moon, you’ll see. And the pack? They’ll probably throw a barbecue to celebrate.”

Despite the storm of emotions swirling in your chest that last comment drew a weak laugh from you. “Yeah, and Embry will probably make a joke about Paul being the first one to ‘start a litter,’” you muttered.

Emily grinned. “Probably. But you’ve got to admit, they’d all step up to make sure you and that baby are safe. It’s what they do.”

You took a shaky sip of tea. The warmth grounding you for a moment. Deep down you knew Emily was right. But the thought of telling Paul, and everyone else, still felt like standing on the edge of a cliff. “Guess I’ll find out soon enough,” you murmured while staring down at your tea. “I just hope you’re right.”

Emily smiled softly, giving your hand one last squeeze. “I’m always right,” she teased. Her voice light. “Now, let’s figure out how you’re going to tell Paul. You’ve got this.”

Just as you were going to ask her how in the hell you’d drop this bomb on him the front door opened loudly, followed by the familiar sound of Paul’s laugh, low and warm, rolling through the house. “We’re back!” Quil called out, clearly in a good mood. Jared muttered something about food and within seconds all three of them were in the kitchen rummaging around for snacks.

You sat frozen at the kitchen table gripping your mug of now-cold tea. Your eyes were glued to the wall like it might have answers to the mess of thoughts tangling in your head. Emily shot you a look that practically screamed, you better handle this soon, before helping the hungry wolves to whatever snack she deemed acceptable.

“Hey,” Paul’s voice broke through the fog. You looked up just as he walked over to you. His usual easy grin faltering slightly as he studied your face. He crouched in front of you, his warm hands resting on your knees. “You okay? You’ve got that look.”

“What look?” you asked. Your voice faltering slightly as you tried to sound normal.

“The one that says you’re either about to cry or punch someone.” He tilted his head. His grin returning. “Hopefully not me.”

You forced a laugh but it came out weak and shaky. “I’m fine. Just tired. You know, the usual.”

Paul narrowed his eyes, clearly unconvinced. His sharp instincts both as a wolf and your imprint meant there was no hiding anything from him for long. “Uh-huh. Sure babe. You’re totally not being weird. Not at all.” He teased lightly.

“I am not!” you shot back too quickly. His brows shot up.

“Okay…” He dragged the word out, standing and looking toward the kitchen where Quil and Jared were now arguing over a loaf of bread. Paul glanced back at you. His concern deepening. “Wanna take a walk? Fresh air might feel good.”

You hesitated. Your pulse roaring in your ears. You couldn’t do this here. Not with Jared and Quil’s supernatural hearing and Emily’s knowing looks. “Yeah,” you muttered finally, standing abruptly. “Let’s go.”

Paul smiled softly and walked behind you as you made your way out of the house. He grabbed his jacket and followed you out the door. The crisp air hit your skin, grounding you slightly as you led him down the gravel path toward the edge of the forest. Paul stayed quiet. His hands stuffed in his pockets as he matched your pace. He didn’t push but you could feel his eyes on you. His quiet presence making your nerves churn even more.

When you finally stopped, he turned to face you. His expression soft but cautious. “Alright then,” he said, leaning back against a tree. His arms crossing over his chest. “What’s going on? You’ve been acting… off since we got back. And don’t tell me it’s nothing because I know you better than that love.”

You fidgeted. Your fingers twisting the hem of your sweater as you avoided his gaze. Your stomach was in knots and the words felt stuck in your throat. “Paul, I… I need to tell you something,” you started. Your voice barely above a whisper.

“Okay,” he said, his tone steady but laced with worry. “Whatever it is, just say it.”

You opened your mouth, but nothing came out. Instead, you made a strange almost choking sound which made his eyes widen. “Are you okay? It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.” he said while stepping closer.

“I’m fine!” you said too quickly yet again. Your voice pitching higher than you wanted. “It’s just… this is… ugh!” You threw your hands up while pacing a few steps before spinning back to face him. “You’re going to freak out.”

Paul blinked slowly. His brows knitting together as a hint of a smile tugged at his lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this worked up before babe. What’s going on?” You just had to tell him. Just do it.

You stopped pacing. Your chest tightening as you blurted out, “I’m pregnant.”

The silence that followed was deafening. Paul’s face went blank, his arms dropping to his sides as he stared at you. You felt the blood drain from your face. The panic rising as his lack of reaction stretched on. “Paul?” you whispered. Your voice trembling. “Say something. Please, say something.”

He blinked, his lips parting slightly. “You’re serious?” he asked in a silky soft voice like he was trying to make sure he’d heard you right.

You nodded. Your throat tight. “Yeah. I just found out today. I’m sorry. I didn’t want it to be like this. I wasn’t even sure how I should tell you, because I know we’re young, and everything’s crazy right now, and…”

“Shh,” he said cutting you off gently. He stepped forward completely closing the distance between you. His hands finding your arms as he looked down at you. Those chocolate brown eyes searching yours. “You’re pregnant? We’re… having a baby? Our baby?”

Your heart pounded as you nodded again with tears welling up in your eyes. “Yeah.”

A slow grin spread across his face. It started small but grew until it lit up his whole expression. He laughed softly almost in disbelief and suddenly pulled you into his arms. He held you so tightly you could barely breathe. “You’re serious?” he asked again. His voice muffled against your hair. “We’re having a baby?”

You let out a watery laugh. Your hands clutching at his jacket. “Yeah. We’re having a baby.” You said softly.

Paul pulled back just enough to look at you. His eyes shining with something you couldn’t quite name. “You’re amazing,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I mean it. I can’t even…” He broke off, shaking his head like he couldn’t find the words. “This is crazy, but it’s… it’s amazing. I’m so happy right now,” He grinned before pulling you in for a kiss, “We’re having a baby!”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as a laugh bubbled out of you. “You’re not scared? Or mad?”

“Of course, I’m scared,” he admitted. His hands moving to cradle your face. “But I’m not mad. Never. You’re my world, and now… now we’re building something together. How could I be anything but happy about that?”

You sniffled, leaning into his touch. “Well, I’m glad one of us is confident. Because I was ready to fake my death and disappear into the woods.”

Paul laughed before kissing your forehead softly. “Not a chance. You’re stuck with me, babe. And this kid? They’re going to have the best damn parents in the world.” His hand ran over your abdomen gently.

A small, tentative smile tugged at your lips as you rested your forehead against his neck. “I hope you’re ready to break the news to the pack, though. I can already hear Embry’s jokes.”

Paul’s grin only widened. A glimmer of excitement sparking in his eyes. “We’ve got to tell them.”

Your stomach dropped, and you blinked at him. “Right now?”

“Yes, right now,” he said. His voice filled with conviction. “Why wouldn’t we? This is huge! It’s amazing! They’re going to be so happy for us.”

“Paul,” you said slowly while trying to reel him back in. “We just found out. Don’t you think we should… I don’t know, let it sink in first? Maybe figure out how we’re going to explain this before we say anything?”

But Paul shook his head. His hands framing your face with a tenderness that made your chest ache. “There’s nothing to explain, babe. This is good news. They’re family. They’ll support us no matter what. And if anyone has anything negative to say…” His voice dropped slightly. A spark of protectiveness flaring in his tone. “They’ll have to deal with me. But they’re going to be so excited love. So damn excited.”

You hesitated. Your doubts lingering. “It’s not that simple, Paul. What if they think it’s irresponsible? Or too soon?”

He took your hands, his gaze steady and unwavering. “Look, I know things are messy right now. The timing might not be perfect. But then again, when is it ever? What matters is that this is ours. You, me, and this baby. We’re going to be okay because we have each other.” His voice softened and the corners of his lips tugged into a smile. “I want to celebrate that with the people who care the most about us.”

His sincerity broke through your defenses, and you sighed, nodding reluctantly. “You’re sure?”

“I’ve never been so sure of anything,” he said. His smile warm and full of pride. “You’re carrying our baby. How could I not want to shout it from the rooftops?”

A small laugh slipped out despite yourself. You shook your head at his antics. “Fine. But if this goes sideways, you’re the one dealing with the fallout.”

Paul chuckled, pulling you close and pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Deal. Now, let’s go tell them.”

As he led you back toward the house, his excitement practically radiating off him, you still felt a twinge of nerves. But the way he held your hand, so steady and unshakable, made you believe that somehow everything would work out.

The moment you and Paul stepped back into the house. Emily’s eyes flicked to the two of you. Her lips curled into the smallest, most knowing smile. Her gaze lingered on Paul who was still vibrating with energy like he could barely contain himself. She exhaled softly, relief washing over her face.

“He knows, doesn’t he?” she asked you, her voice low enough that only you and Paul could hear.

“Of course, I know,” Paul cut in with his grin so wide it was practically smug. “You really think she could keep something like this from me?” His arm wrapped protectively around your waist. His hand warm against your side as he glanced down at you. “She tried, though. Gotta give her credit.”

Emily’s smile grew. She stepped closer to squeeze your hand. “I’m glad you told him,” she said simply. Her calm steadiness grounded you in a way nothing else could.

Jared and Quil, however, were still oblivious. Quil frowned at Paul. His sandwich frozen halfway to his mouth. “What’s up with you? You look like you just hit the jackpot.”

“Yeah,” Jared added, leaning back against the counter. “You’ve got that weird, smug thing going on. Like you know something we don’t.”

Paul smirked, his fingers flexing slightly on your waist. “Maybe I do.”

Quil rolled his eyes. “You gonna share with the class, or…?”

Paul leaned against the back of the couch looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Let’s wait until everyone’s here,” he said, glancing toward the door. “Don’t wanna repeat myself.”

Jared groaned. “Dude, seriously? You’re such a…”

“Later,” Paul interrupted. His grin growing wider. Jared muttered something under his breath, but Paul didn’t seem to care. His attention stayed on you. His thumb brushing absently along your hip.

By the time Sam and the rest of the pack arrived the room was buzzing with conversation. The pack had settled in, tired but loud as usual, filling the space with their usual chaos. You could feel your nerves creeping back but Paul’s steady presence beside you kept them at bay.

Once the noise quieted enough for him to speak, Paul cleared his throat. All eyes turned toward him. The sudden intensity of his expression silencing even Quil’s usual chatter.

Emily, sipping her tea, shot Paul a look. Silently daring him to be subtle. But Paul being Paul had no plans for subtlety. He straightened while crossing his arms over his chest as he cleared his throat. “Me and Y/N… we’re not just us anymore. We’re adding one.”

The room went silent. All eyes turning toward him. Jared frowned. “What does that even mean?”

Quil looked at you both, confused. “Wait. Did you get a dog? Please tell me it’s a dog.”

Paul smirked, clearly reveling in the suspense. “Nope. Not a dog.”

Embry tilted his head, his brows furrowed. “A cat? Fish? What?”

Paul chuckled, dragging it out just a little longer. “Think bigger.”

Quil’s eyes narrowed and then he gasped. His mouth dropping open. “Oh my God! You’re moving?! Are you leaving the rez?”

Paul groaned before dragging a hand down his face. “No! Not moving, not a pet, not a damn secret stash of food.” He glanced at you. His grin softening slightly and nodded like it was your moment to take over.

And you couldn’t help it. With all their clueless guesses and Paul’s smug antics a laugh bubbled out of you, warm and uncontrollable. Everyone froze, watching you with the most curious eyes and through your laughter, you managed to blurt, “We’re having a baby!”

The room went completely still for a beat, Jared’s apple frozen mid-air as his jaw dropped. Quil looked between you and Paul. His face blank before he finally sputtered, “Wait… like an actual baby?” Even Sam looked a little shell shocked at that news.

“Yes, Quil,” Paul said dryly though his grin betrayed his pride. “An actual baby. Our baby.”

Jared blinked rapidly then burst out laughing, slapping the counter. “Holy shit. You’re serious? Paul Lahote’s gonna be a dad?”

Quil let out a strangled laugh while running a hand through his hair. “Wow. This poor kid’s gonna have your temper, huh? Better hope they get your patience.” He looked at you with a knowing grin.

Sam, who had entered the room halfway through the chaos, finally stepped forward. His expression calm but full of warmth. “That’s great news,” he said simply while clapping Paul on the shoulder before looking at you. “You’re both going to be amazing parents.”

The pack didn’t hold back after that. Quil and Jared immediately started throwing out ridiculous suggestions for baby names while Embry vowed to make the baby a tiny wolf plushie as a first gift. The teasing was relentless, but it was full of love. It was clear that they were genuinely happy for you both. Your earlier nerves vanishing in an instant at their exuberance.

Hours later when the house had quieted and everyone had left, you and Paul found yourselves alone in the dimly lit living room. You curled up against his side. Your head resting on his chest as his arm draped securely around you.

“You know,” you murmured, smiling faintly, “your announcement was terrible.”

Paul laughed. The sound rumbling through his chest. “Terrible? That was brilliant.”

“You had everyone thinking we got a dog,” you teased, tilting your head to look up at him. “I think Quil’s still processing.”

Paul smirked, brushing a strand of hair from your face. “Hey, I had to keep them guessing. Besides, you’re the one who cracked under pressure.”

You rolled your eyes but the warmth in his gaze softened your retort. His hand moved to your stomach, resting there gently as he whispered, “We’re really doing this, huh?”

“Yeah,” you said softly. Your voice steady. “We are.”

He pressed a kiss to your temple. His voice low and full of quiet conviction. “It’s gonna be perfect. You, me, and our little one. We’ve got this.”

Paul’s lips brushed against yours, slow and deliberate, grounding you for a fleeting moment. His hand, warm and steady on your stomach, reminded you of the little life you’d just announced to the pack. But the moment his forehead rested against yours the weight of what was coming next crept back in.

Your parents. His parents.

You pulled back slightly, your fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt as your heart pounded. “Paul,” you murmured, your voice trembling. “How are we going to tell them? My mom is going to flip, and not in a good way. And your mom…”

“Hey,” Paul interrupted softly, his thumb brushing along your jaw. “Look at me.”

You hesitated but the steady warmth in his eyes drew you in. His grin was softer now, tempered with something deeper. “We’ll tell them the same way we told the pack, together. And if your mom flips, I’ll handle it. I’ll handle all of it. You don’t have to worry about a thing.”

“I don’t know if you’ve met my mom,” you whispered. Your voice wavering as you tried to find humor in the situation. “She’s going to think this is reckless. She’ll probably yell. A lot.”

Paul’s grin widened, and he tipped your chin up with his knuckle before pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Then let her yell. I’ll stand there and take it because, at the end of the day, none of that matters. What matters is us and this baby.”

You swallowed hard trying to keep your emotions from bubbling over. “But what if it’s too much? What if they think we’re too young, or not ready, or…”

Paul’s grip on you tightened slightly. His voice cutting through your spiral. “Then I’ll marry you tomorrow,” he said. His tone firm but laced with tenderness. “If that’s what it takes to make them see how serious I am, I’ll do it. Hell, I’ll do it tonight if you want.”

Your breath caught as you stared at him, wide-eyed. “You’re not serious.”

“I’m completely serious,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “I love you. I love this baby. And I don’t care what anyone else thinks. You’re my family now. You’ve always been my family and nothing, not your mom, not mine, not anyone, is going to change that.”

The conviction in his voice broke something loose in your chest. The fear and doubt unraveling as his words sank in. You let out a shaky laugh with tears pricking at your eyes. “You can’t just solve everything by offering to marry me, you know.”

Paul smirked, brushing a tear from your cheek with his thumb. “Maybe not, but it’s a pretty damn good start, isn’t it?”

You laughed again, softer this time, and leaned into him, letting his steady warmth anchor you. “We’ll figure it out,” you murmured more to yourself than him.

“We already are,” he said, his voice low and sure. “One step at a time. And I’m not going anywhere, no matter what. You know that love.”

As his arms tightened around you, you felt it, the certainty he carried, the unwavering belief that you could face anything together. It didn’t erase all your fears, but it made them feel a little smaller, a little more manageable.

And for now, and forever that would be enough.

Permanent Taglist (If you'd like to be added to any or all works, please fill out the form here: (Taglist Sign Up): @loving-and-dreaming @kmc1989 @memeorydotcom @matisse556 @buckylov3r @taygrls @ah-blossom @hardballoonlove @rosiahills22 @djs8891 @guacam011y @nqobil3

[boricuasirena25]

cute little painfully nerdy 2000s ellie williams x popular bimbo fem reader part 2

in the girls’ locker room the fluorescent lights buzz overhead. perfume clouds thick in the air. flat irons sizzle, flip phones chirp, and someone in the corner is crying over their boyfriend breaking up with them.

you’re standing in front of your locker. glossy lips pursed, sidekick phone in the pocket of your low rise jeans, your hands pulling your tank top off slow, dramatic, giving the girls (and let’s be real, mostly one girl) a show. dramatic push up, leopard print, hot pink VS bra on full display.

now that girl? ellie williams. corner bench goblin. hoodie up. knees turned in. glasses slipping, lip bitten raw, sketchbook trembling in her lap.

she’s not even pretending anymore. just fully drawing you. boobs front and center. pink glitter gel pen already on standby. there’s a little bubble by your nipples that says:

“soft?? or dangerous??”

then she gasps. you turned your head and looked at her. and because the universe hates her, her stupid clammy hand jerks—

sketchbook goes flying.

sprawled open on the tile.

right at your feet.

you look down. brows furrow. blink. then, slowly, you bend over—boobs still out—and pick it up with two manicured fingers like it’s covered in germs.

“…what the actual f*ck is this.”

ellie’s already stammering. “i-i was just—it’s for a project—i’m in—uh—figure drawing—?”

you hold up the page. “is that supposed to be me? are these my tits?”

she’s practically vibrating. “they’re—they’re really distinctive.”

now, the whole locker room is watching. girls whispering. dina’s jaw is dropped. someone’s filming on their pink razr.

you flip through the sketchbook. pages of you in different bras. different outfits. one of you in a bikini you haven’t even worn yet.

you hold one up. “why am i in a schoolgirl skirt with whipped cream on my chest?”

ellie squeaks. “i—it’s symbolic?”

you raise an eyebrow, unimpressed. “symbolic of what? your weird little loser nut fantasy?”

she shrinks.

“geez,” you mutter. “you’re so pathetic.”

that made ellie wet as if she wasn’t already. she opens her mouth. closes it. opens it again. “i think I’m in love with you,” she says.

you burst out laughing. “no sh*t, perv.”

ellie freezes. she looks like you just stabbed her in the chest with a glittery gel pen.

“wait—hold on—please,” she says, voice going higher than her GPA’s ever been. “you can’t—you can’t keep that.”

you arch a brow, already flipping to the next page. “i absolutely can. possession is, like, nine-tenths of the law. ever heard of it?”

ellie lunges forward instinctively—then thinks better of it. hands up, like she’s in a hostage negotiation. “okay. okay. let’s talk. we can talk. that sketchbook—it’s not safe for the public. you haven’t even seen the worst pages.”

you pause, intrigued. “oh? there’s worse?”

she twitches. visibly. “page sixteen is a crime. i drew that at 3AM while watching wild things and—i wasn’t in my right mind. please.”

you start turning the page. she yelps.

“i’ll pay you!” you glance up. “with what? your lunch tokens?”

“i’ll sell my PS3. i’ll—i’ll do your homework—“ you hold up a page. “is this me… as a sexy vampire?”

ellie visibly short-circuits. “okay, that one was experimental.”

you smirk. “you gave me fangs.”

“it was a metaphor!”

“for what?!”

she just breathes. hard. ragged. “desire?”

you’re wheezing now, flipping faster. “why am I in a maid outfit on this page?”

she slaps her forehead. “that one’s not done! you’re supposed to be stepping on me!”

you look up, stunned.

“i was in a weird place, okay?!”

you cackle, stepping back as she reaches forward again. “if you touch me, i will literally call coach vera and tell her you’re having a pervert episode.”

she groans, dropping her face into her hands. “i was gonna burn it. i swear. i had a lighter and everything and then i remembered i have asthma and the fumes might kill me—”

you flip another page. pause. “is that… my bra on your head?”

she’s now just crouching behind a bench like a feral animal. “i was doing character study.”

you tuck the sketchbook under your arm and fix her with a smile that’s all teeth. “i’m keeping this.”

ellie just whimpers.

you lean in, giggle mockingly, casually evil. “i’m putting sticky notes on the ones i like best.”

she makes a strangled noise. and not in the usual creepy, horny way—this one’s real. “page seventeen has smudges—don’t judge me by that one!”

her shoulders slump. glasses fogged beyond saving. she’s blinking a lot, like she’s trying not to cry. it’s giving tragic victorian orphan. if victorian orphans wore spider-man boxers and thought about your boobs 24/7.

you pause.

“huh.”

it’s not like you feel bad, exactly. but it’s… visible. pathetic, even for her. she’s gone quiet. staring at the floor like the sketchbook was her only shot at happiness and now you’re gonna frame it above your bed like a serial killer trophy.

you sigh. loudly. dramatically. like it pains you to be merciful.

“my goodness, fine.”

you shove the sketchbook toward her chest. “take your little porn diary, freak.”

ellie grabs it like it’s a newborn baby. cradles it. whispers, “thank you” like you just pulled her out of a burning building.

“i don’t want your loser fantasies anyway,” you mutter, tossing your hair, adjusting your bra strap. “half of them didn’t even make sense. why was i riding you with a neon penis in thigh-highs?”

ellie doesn’t answer. she’s too busy clutching the book to her chest like it’s her oxygen supply.

you roll your eyes. “ugh. you’re welcome or whatever.”

she looks up at you, eyes glassy behind her crooked frames.

“…you have a really beautiful soul,” she says.

you just pat her head like a dog. “clean your glasses, williams. you’re fogging up again.”

and with that you flip your hair over your shoulder and start walking away back to your locker, muttering just loud enough for her to hear:

“sick in the head. go draw a tree or something, loser. get a grip.”

just like that, you’re gone—lip gloss shining, the kind of exit that belongs in a teen movie finale. girls part like the red sea. you don’t even look back.

ellie just stands there. silent. cradling her returned sketchbook like it’s the ark of the covenant. knees weak. boxers sticking.

she flips open to page sixteen. stares at the half-finished drawing of you in a silk robe that’s barely on, licking frosting off your finger in a kitchen that says “boobie bakery” on a pink neon sign in the back. you’re surrounded by cupcakes. in the bottom corner, ellie had scribbled in shaky handwriting:

“i’d let her eat me like dessert. respectfully. or not.”

her hand trembles. she closes the sketchbook gently. holds it to her chest. eyes wide. flushed.

you’d seen it. maybe not that one, but enough. enough to know.

and you still gave it back. called her sick in the head, sure. but didn’t kill her. ellie sinks to the bench.

her chest is tight.

her glasses are fogging again.

she’s pretty sure her boxers are ruined forever.

she whispers, “she noticed me…”

then slowly slumps against the locker, eyes wide, cheeks pink, heart doing backflips.

she’s never been more down bad in her life.

and tragically? she’s only gonna get worse.

taglist : @deliciouslydeviantsatan, @valeisaslut, @lovelessswan, and @dollinrehab. lmk if uu wanna be added. :)

[dakusan]

F I R S T R U I N

Vampire!Lee Minho x Reader | thigh-biting blood high, dumb on his cock, ruined slow then cleaned softer

🔞synopsis: A nurse with a sharp tongue. A vampire with silk gloves and fangs made for worship. One locked door. Three bites. Too much cum. Not enough mercy. You didn’t mean to fall for him—didn’t mean to offer your vein, your body, your fucking soul. But Lee Minho is cold-handed precision and velvet-tongued sin, and when he says “mine,” your knees forget how to say no. Welcome to your first ruin. There is no second. Only his name, carved into your pulse.

💌a/n: I HAVE PLANS FOR VAMPIRE!SKZ OKAY. This is just the beginning. My goal is to write one solo smut fic for each of the boys first. and then I’ll start alternating between full OT8 blood-fueled chaos and more solo entries. Also yes—this one was long as hell, but you already KNOW me. I can’t drop you into the filth without a little plot first. I want you to ache for the sex. I want the bite to land. You get character. You get dynamic. And then? THEN YOU GET RUINED. This is Lee Know’s world and we’re all just kneeling in it 🥀. p.s. if this had you lightheaded, wet, and twitching—reblog it. don’t just lurk. reblogs = forehead kiss by minho 💋 p.p.s. this fic is brought to you by one brain cell and a gallon of unholy thirst p.p.p.s. honestly? i think we all need to go lie down in a cool, dark cave. bring fruit. and holy water p.p.p.p.s. click to listen to the song or don't... or pls do~ 👀

⚠️ warnings: 18+ / MINORS DO NOT INTERACT | Bloodplay, vampirism, biting/feeding during sex | Overstimulation | Oral (f receiving), unprotected sex | Possessive dom!Minho | Breeding kink language, cocky filthy talk, praise & degradation | Orgasm control, light choking (hand on neck) | Marking, light blood loss, lightheaded reader | Lap aftercare, worship-adjacent behaviour | Minho being pussy drunk & dangerous about it | Blood-drunk reader | Dark romantic obsession themes | Fang kink | Ruined sheets, ruined reader, ruined life (you’re his now) | Soft dom aftercare

📌 Please read responsibly. Hydrate. Bleed pretty. Stretch.

📍credits: dividers by @cafekitsune

🎧 » Lace and Chains — VX « 0:58 ─〇───── 2:52 ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

You didn’t come to Luxe Health to be anyone’s pet.

You were hired on skill—clinical excellence, trauma specialization, and a disposition cool enough to treat feral-blooded vampires without flinching. You were sharp, steady, and frighteningly efficient. The kind of nurse who could stitch flesh while quoting surgical texts and still have enough clarity left to write up a six-page incident report with zero typos.

You didn’t smile often. You didn’t gossip. You didn’t freeze, even when a patient went bloodlusted and tried to lunge through a restraint field. You just tapped the tranquilizer dose higher. Watched his eyes roll back. Logged the vitals. Moved on.

You were quiet. Obsessively neat. And Minho noticed you immediately.

It started on your second month—night shift.

You were managing a containment patient who’d snapped his bond under duress. His mate had died on the operating table. Rage-state induced. Full-fanged. Venom glands wide open.

Most staff cleared the corridor when he arrived. But you stayed behind the seal line, prepping medical-grade hemo-gauze and a bite inhibitor in case he came loose.

And that’s when he appeared. Minho.

At the time, you didn’t know who he was. Just that he wore black gloves. Didn’t blink. Didn’t announce himself. Just stood there—still and elegant, watching you through the glass.

Your pulse stayed steady.

He tilted his head when he noticed that. He smiled—just once, barely. And then he disappeared.

You figured it was a fluke.

Maybe he just happened to be in the corridor that night. Maybe he had business with the rage-state unit. Maybe you were just a warm body in a cold room, nothing more than background static.

You told yourself that four times. Even as the elevators kept stopping on your floor. Even when you spotted him standing in radiology at 3:06AM, leaning against the wall like he belonged there, watching you roll a supply cart into ICU-3 without blinking.

You ignored it. Like a professional. Like someone who had bills.

Because in your mind, vampires—especially ones in silk and sin—were strictly not part of your survival plan.

You didn’t care that his cheekbones could slice air. You didn’t care that his voice could unmake a fever. You didn’t care that he moved like the concept of threat, dressed like elegance incarnate, and tracked you with the hungry precision of someone who never once heard the word no and believed it.

You had a job. You had shift notes. You had a patient who vomited blood down your front not ten minutes ago. You did not have time for whatever this vampire thought he was doing.

What you didn't know...was that the entire empire noticed.

“Did you see Minho?”

“Which time?”

“The way he was hovering outside Ward D.”

“Bro was waiting like a cat outside a bathroom door.”

Jisung, resident panic-button genius and accidental vampire, nearly chokes on his imported coconut milk as he reenacts the stare. “He does this thing with his head, y’know? The Tilt. The ‘I want to dissect you like an emotion’ tilt.”

Across the table, Felix just sips his tea with a knowing look. “He’s doing it again today,” he says softly.

“How do you know?”

“Because I dreamed it. And the dream smelled like disinfectant and longing.”

“Gross,” Jisung mutters, still slurping.

“Sexy,” Hyunjin corrects with a flick of his brush, painting onto the corner of a trauma-suppression mural.

“Illegal,” Seungmin deadpans from a nearby bench, flipping through a blood-law violation report without looking up.

“Classic Minho,” Changbin grunts with a shrug.

“He’s gonna snap eventually,” Jeongin adds with a laugh. “Just walk in mid-shift and bite her in front of everyone.”

“He won’t,” Seungmin says without emotion. “He’s too controlled for that.”

“He wants to,” Felix hums.

“Yeah,” Jisung agrees. “Like… you know that cartoon wolf whose heart punches out his chest?”

“That’s Minho.”

Meanwhile: You, at Scrub Station 3B, completely unaware of whatever chaos is happening around you. But, you also aren't stupid.

You’d noticed the strange tension in the staff lounge lately.

The glances. The weird silences. The way people stopped talking when you walked in and then started whispering louder the moment you left. The way the vending machine suddenly stopped accepting your ID code, only to be mysteriously fixed every time someone from Security walked by.

You assumed it was vampire politics. Some weird internal chain-of-command shit. Nothing to do with you.

You weren’t stupid. You’d heard the whispers.

“That’s Minho’s nurse.” “The one he keeps watching?” “The one who doesn’t react?” “He likes that.” “Of course he does. She’s got no fear in her scent signature.”

Which, frankly, was bullshit. You did have fear. You just filed it. Indexed it. Labelled it under to be dealt with later, and moved on.

And that was the difference.

Most humans trembled around vampires. Especially Abnormals. Especially ones like Minho, who came from a bloodline so ancient it dripped with ritual and violence.

But you?

You wore triple-layer gloves. Carried three pens. Could recite every anti-glamour clause in the hospital contract by section. You called in extra restrainers before anyone else did. You wore your surgical mask even when no one was around.

You didn’t resist vampires. You ignored them.

And Minho found that… unforgivable.

4AM, ICU Corridor, Luxe Health

"Nurse."

You didn’t flinch. Didn’t even turn around. Still holding the IV bag one-handed, you pressed the auto-temp check with your elbow and answered flatly: “If you’re here to loiter, you need a visitor badge.”

Behind you, a soft inhale. Expensive. The kind of breath you learn to identify after three months of pretending you don’t have an ancient Abnormal vampire tailing your every night shift like a very pretty, very persistent ghost.

“I’m here to supervise containment compliance.”

“Of course you are,” you muttered, adjusting the hemo tubing. “Just like last Thursday. And the one before that. And the day you appeared in the stairwell holding a blood sample you weren’t authorized to have.”

He didn’t respond. Just stepped closer—barely an inch into your personal space—and leaned in until you could feel the glamour heat tickling the back of your neck.

“You smelled like regret that day,” Minho said conversationally.

“That’s funny,” you replied. “I smelled like bleach and burnt coffee.”

“Same thing, in my experience.”

You turned.

Finally.

His face was unfair. Always had been. The kind of bone structure that made people suspicious of mirrors. Jaw locked in its usual lazy precision. And that infuriating glint in his eye—like he was permanently two seconds away from saying something profoundly inappropriate in the most polite tone imaginable.

“You’re blocking the supply cabinet,” you said.

“You’re blocking my peace of mind,” he replied without missing a beat.

“Tragic. Move.”

Minho didn’t.

He reached past you instead, plucking a gauze packet off the shelf like this was his ICU, his routine, and you were just lucky to be breathing in his curated aesthetic.

“You know,” he added casually, “I’ve handled rogue bond-breakers with less edge than you.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“It wasn’t one.”

You took the gauze from his hand. Your fingers touched—briefly—and you definitely didn’t imagine the jolt that followed.

He tilted his head. Studied you. Like you were a patient. A riddle. A puzzle with too many locked doors and no polite way to pick them. “What do you want, Lee?” you asked. “Genuinely. Because if it’s blood, I’m sure the cafeteria’s serving warmed AB right now with a side of desperate interns.”

“I don’t feed at work,” he said. Then, after a pause: “Usually.”

You blinked once. “You think you’re charming.”

“I know I’m charming. You’re just unnaturally resistant.”

“You know what’s charming? Finishing your compliance report. On time. Without watching me file inventory like it’s a strip show.”

That earned you a soft laugh. Low and dangerous. The kind of sound that curled in your stomach like heat and refused to leave.

“One day,” he murmured, leaning back with all the smug grace of a man who’d never once been told no in a meaningful tone, “you’re going to ask me to bite you.”

You looked at him—deadpan.

“One day, I’m going to replace your blood suppressant with saline and see how smug you are mid-withdrawal.”

He blinked. Paused. And then—grinned.

“Marry me.”

“File your fucking report.”

6AM, CEO Office, Luxe Health HQ

“You’re not listening to me.”

Chan didn’t even look up from his tablet. “Correct.”

Minho narrowed his eyes. Pacing now. Elegant. Dangerous. Agitated.

“She threatened to saline-patch my suppressant dose.”

“That’s... honestly kind of funny.”

“That’s medical warfare.”

Chan blinked. “She’s a nurse, Minho. That’s literally her job.”

“It was flirtation.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m not sure of anything anymore.”

That got Chan’s attention. He sighed. Set the tablet down. Folded his hands. Fixed Minho with that stare. The one that made most bloodlines fall to their knees and apologize.

“Minho.”

“What.”

“You’ve led covert missions into rogue blood auction rings.”

“Correct.”

“You interrogated a traitor using a smile and three syllables.”

“She cried blood. It was poetic.”

“And yet you are losing your mind because a trauma nurse won’t flirt back?”

“She does flirt back!”

“Minho.”

“She does it with medical threats and latex gloves. It’s delicious.”

Chan pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Have you fed from her?”

“No.”

“Touched her?”

“Only by accident. Once. I handed her gauze. Our fingers brushed. I almost blacked out.”

“Okay, you need therapy.”

“I need her,” Minho said with a straight face.

Chan's eye twitched as he stared at Minho's deadpan straight face. You are a grown immortal man. You are on payroll. You cannot keep stalking the human nurse who organizes IVs like she’s angry at gravity, he thought while staring at the other vampire.

“She’s not like anyone else,” Minho muttered, now half-draped over Chan’s glass desk like an ancient drama queen. “She never flinches. Never looks impressed. I called her beautiful and she said I needed better lighting.”

“You do.”

“I told her I dreamed about her last night.”

“Minho.”

“She said, and I quote: ‘Sounds like a skill issue.’”

Chan paused. He blinked slowly. Then—smirked. “Okay, I kind of love her.”

Minho just scowled. “She told me to file a report. A report! After I pulled three rogue fangs from a rage-state hybrid!”

“Were you supposed to file a report?”

“…Yes.”

Chan sipped his blood-coffee substitute. Calm. God-tier composed.

“You’re obsessed.”

“No.”

“You’re hovering.”

“Incorrect.”

“You’re one bad shift away from dragging her into a storage room and—”

“—glamouring her against the wall and biting her inner thigh until she screams my name?”

“…Wow.”

“That was hypothetical.”

“That was a cry for help.”

You were running out of places to put the damn flowers.

The first bouquet arrived in silence—no card, no warning—just there, waiting at your station between vitals reports and an empty coffee cup.

You threw them out.

The next bouquet came two nights later. Bigger. Lilies and peonies, dipped in glamour to keep them fresh past death. You gave those to a patient. He cried. Called you an angel. You told him to lower his morphine dose.

By week three, it was becoming a problem.

The entire nurse’s station looked like a cursed wedding prep site. Vases tucked between blood pressure monitors. Hydrangeas in the staff fridge. Roses blooming next to the printer. Even the vampire patients were impressed. One growled, “Marry him,” as you passed.

You tried ignoring it. You tried passive-aggressive post-it notes. You even tried filing a complaint to HR, which mysteriously got “lost” after reaching Seungmin’s desk. (You knew it was him. You saw the post-it note on his computer: "Let her suffer. It's romantic.")

Then came the coffee.

Minho learned your order. Not from you. You never told him. But somehow, every shift, it appeared. Hot. Correct. Exactly the temperature you liked, even on the days you changed it.

“Witchcraft,” you muttered once, taking a sip.

A deep voice behind you: “No. Attention to detail.” You almost threw the cup at him. He looked delighted.

There was even a turning point! I know, shocker. The reports? He started submitting them. On time. Flawless. With footnotes. Proper headers. Spell-checked. PDF format. You were horrified.

“You’re mocking me,” you said, scrolling through one of them in the breakroom. “I’m impressing you,” Minho corrected smoothly. “By finally doing your job?” “By doing it in Helvetica Neue and proper pagination.”

You hated how smug he looked. You hated how your stomach twisted when he lingered in the hallway a moment too long. You hated that you were starting to like the flowers.

You really hated the night he didn’t show up—because you noticed.

And then came the first date. You didn’t mean to say yes. It had been a long shift. You were tired. He looked less smug than usual, like he was waiting for something he didn’t want to admit he wanted. He didn’t flirt. He just said:

“Dinner. No blood. No pressure. Just me. You. One night where you don’t have to wipe down an exam table.”

And… for some godforsaken reason…

You said yes.

What followed next wasn't normal.

You expected seduction. Or feeding. Or some slow-burn game that ended with his mouth on your thigh and your name erased from memory.

Instead? He took you to a rooftop garden. No blood in sight. Let you pick the food. Let you eat first. Talked. Really talked. About life. About dreams. About you.

He didn’t touch you. He didn’t bite you. He held your hand.

That was it.

And from that date? More came after. Walks at night, warded alleys where no one interrupted. Quiet dinners in places that didn’t exist on Yelp. Enchanted rooms with ceilings full of stars. Reading medical journals together in eerie silence and arguing about footnote formatting like it was foreplay.

Still—not a single drop of blood. Not one kiss. Not even a single press of fangs to skin.

You asked him once, bluntly: “Do you want me? Or do you want to feed?”

He’d gone still. Then:

“Both. Eventually. But I’m not going to take either until you ask.”

You stared at him.

He just smiled. Leaned back in the booth. And said: “Besides. You’re more fun when you’re confused.”

Two Months Later

You. Still working. Still unbitten. Still unsure if you’re dating the vampire or the delusion of dating him.

The gifts have escalated. You’re no longer getting flowers—you’re getting enchanted orchids that bloom based on your circadian rhythm. The coffee? Comes in porcelain mugs from centuries-old European houses. You started Googling the logos. One of them sells for more than your monthly salary. There’s a cashmere-lined stethoscope case on your desk with your initials embroidered. You didn’t ask for it.

And Minho? Still hasn’t kissed you. Still hasn’t bitten you. Still calls you “mine” like it’s a joke—except it’s really, really not.

Tonight, you are once again on a date, at a rooftop garden. With Him. You have lost count. You have lost track.

You’re dressed in black. Simple. Clean. Your makeup’s a little heavier than usual. Just enough to look like you didn’t try but very clearly did.

He notices. Of course he does. He notices everything.

He brings nothing this time. No box. No coffee. No flowers.

Just a folder. Black. Embossed. Marked with the Luxe Health seal and one single word:

“CONTRACT.”

You raise a brow. “Romantic.”

“This is romantic,” he says, deadly calm. “I’m being respectful.”

“This is paperwork.”

“This is possession.”

You blink. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.”

He slides it toward you. You don’t touch it yet. He waits. He always waits. But tonight, his restraint is fraying.

“You know what this is.”

“A blood doll contract.”

“Your blood doll contract.”

“Wow. That’s forward.”

“It’s overdue.”

You hesitate, eyes scanning over the cover of the folder. “I thought we were… taking our time.”

“I gave you flowers. I gave you space. I gave you silence.”

“And?”

“And you’re still not mine.” He leans forward. Voice lowering. “You wear my gifts. You drink my coffee. You let me walk you home like you’re already mine.”

“But I’m not.”

“That’s the problem.”

You sigh and finally open the folder. The paper wasn’t paper. It shimmered—some enchanted blend of vellum and soul-signed parchment, threaded with runic script and Luxe Health clearance glyphs. It smelled faintly of rosewood, blood-sugar, and vampire venom—like it had been scented specifically to disarm you.

The first page read:

LUXE HEALTH EXCLUSIVE BLOOD BOND CONTRACT (Private Tier 7A) Client: Lee Minho, Executive Director of Containment & High-Risk Retrieval Proposed Bond: [REDACTED — WAITING FOR BLOOD SIGIL INPUT] Terms: Eternal unless dissolved by death, betrayal, or mutual trauma unbinding.

You flipped the page, reading over each clause carefully.

Clause 1 – Exclusivity: The bonded human shall agree to become the sole blood source and feeding recipient of Director Lee Minho. No other vampire may feed, bond, glamour, or scent-imprint the bonded party. Attempts will result in instant retaliation. Clause 3 – Feeding Access: Director Lee may initiate feeding only with verbal consent or spontaneous offering. Emergency feeds require biometric confirmation of bond stability. No bedside biting without prior scheduling unless medically justified. Clause 5 – Physical Proximity & Personal Belonging Rights: You will wear his hoodie at least once. No, this is not legally required, but emotionally, it’s essential. (Note: This clause is in Jisung’s handwriting. You recognize the chaos.) Clause 6 – Bed Sharing Addendum: Should the bonded choose to cohabitate, Minho will relinquish 60% of bed space. He will not snore. He reserves the right to spoon. Denial of spooning must be justified in writing. (Also Jisung.) Clause 7 – Feeding Response Clause: Feeding may commence only upon verbal consent or spontaneous offering. Ritual biting optional. Orgasm not required—but statistically probable. (Jisung has circled “statistically probable” in gold ink and drawn a smiley face.)

You stared at the pages for a long time. Then up at him. He looked almost calm. But you knew better.

His fingers were clenched too tightly around the stem of his wine glass. His pupils were too wide, even for vampire night vision. His throat bobbed once, and you swore—for the first time since you met him—Minho looked nervous.

“Did you… write this yourself?” you asked carefully.

“I dictated it,” he said. “Jisung formatted it.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“He added the spooning clause. I told him it was unnecessary.”

“…It’s not.”

“You say that now,” he muttered, “but just wait.”

You were quiet for a while. Reading. Rereading. Trying to breathe evenly, even though your pulse was definitely spiking—because this wasn’t a tease. This wasn’t a joke. This wasn’t a seductive detour.

This was real.

“And if I don’t sign it?” you asked quietly.

Minho met your gaze—serious. Grounded. “Then I’ll keep dating you.”

“That’s it?”

“Yes.”

“You won’t feed?”

“Not unless you ask.”

“You won’t claim me?”

“Not unless you beg.”

You swallowed. “So you’re going to… wait?”

“I’m going to hope,” he said softly. “That’s worse.”

You looked down at your hands. They were shaking.

You hadn’t been kissed. You hadn’t been bitten. You hadn’t been touched below the waist. And still—you had never felt more utterly, completely owned in your entire fucking life.

Not by force. Not by glamour. Just… by choice. By his. And now—by yours.

“If I sign this,” you said, voice low. “It changes everything.”

Minho’s eyes glinted. “No,” he said. “It confirms everything.”

You look back down at the contract, narrowing your eyes. Finally, you grab the pen tucked inside the folder—heavy, gold-tipped, and faintly warm from being enchanted—and bring it to the line marked BLOOD SIGIL SIGNATURE.

“Do I have to…?”

“Just a pinprick,” he says. “No pain.”

You prick the pad of your thumb with the pen’s hidden fang. It beads. Red. Bright. Glimmering like garnet under the moonlight. The paper absorbs it greedily, drinking your drop like it’s starving.

Your name blooms in glowing script across the page—signed in blood. Bound by will.

Minho exhales. Like he hasn’t breathed in weeks.

“It’s done,” you whisper.

He closes the folder gently, reverently, fingers grazing yours and you sit there for a moment, staring at the sealed folder between you like it might start glowing again. Your thumb still tingles. Your chest does too.

Minho doesn’t move. Doesn’t speak. He’s just… looking at you. Like he’s memorizing every line of your face now that you’re his. Like he’s been holding back for months—and now the lock finally clicked open.

You open your mouth—maybe to speak, maybe to tease—but then: “Your entrees,” the waiter announces, stepping into the charged silence like he doesn’t feel the psychic possession radiating from your table.

He sets down two crystal plates with some absurdly tiny, artfully stacked thing in the center. There’s foam. There’s edible gold leaf. There’s a single black truffle shaving doing absolutely nothing.

You blink down at the plate. Then at him.

“Is that... caviar on a flower petal?”

“Imported,” Minho says, without looking. “It only blooms under moonlight and silence.”

You raise an eyebrow. “So it’s just like you then.”

That gets him. He finally smiles, a real smile. "May or may not have had it imported for you, talked to the restaurant, the chef."

Your eye twitches.

"Minho!"

"What?"

You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose, but, a laugh escapes you. "Okay, fine. I'll try it. If it's bad, I am blaming you."

"I'll take the blame, but it won't disappoint." Minho grinned confident.

And honestly? As tiny as it was, with it's edible gold leaf, and stupid foam. That shit was actually tasty. Did you admit it? No. Did you two bicker about food for the next 20 minutes? Definitely.

But, it wouldn't be a date between you two without a little bit of bickering.

Luxe Health, 11PM

You’re exhausted.

The kind of exhausted that sits between your shoulder blades and tightens behind your eyes. Three emergency transfusions. One patient in soulbond withdrawal. A shattered glass IV, a glamour malfunction, and a trauma intern who spilled blood on his own shoes and nearly passed out.

You’ve been on your feet for fourteen hours, your bun is slipping, and your gloves have already gone through three layers.

The elevator doors open. You expect an empty hallway.

Instead: Minho.

Leaning against the far wall, dressed in black like he’s auditioning for a secret society that meets only under eclipses. No coat. Just silk and shadow and the same look he’s been giving you since the night you signed the contract.

Possession. Soft. Absolute. Undeniable.

He holds a takeout bag in one hand. A coffee in the other. “You’re late,” he says.

“I almost murdered an intern.”

“Ah. Romantic.”

You walk past him, snag the coffee from his hand.

“Is this from that little place near the river?”

“Only the best for my favorite nurse.”

“You say that like you have others.”

“I don’t. You signed the contract. You’re the only one I’m allowed to ruin.”

You roll your eyes.

“What’s in the bag?”

“Your favorite—cold soba, pickled radish, and that weird dessert you pretend not to like.”

“Mochi?”

“You love mochi.”

“I never said that.”

“You never have to.”

He leads to his car, where he is driving you both to his place. The ride is quiet, comfortable, familiar in a way that makes your chest ache. You’ve been to his place before—so many times now it smells like you. Your shampoo in the bathroom. Your hoodie on the back of the couch.

But tonight feels different. There’s something thicker in the air. Not tension. Not fear.

Readiness.

He opens the door, lets you step in first. Always. And then follows right after you and off to the kitchen, plating the food like some domestic vampire fantasy. You toe off your shoes, drop your bag by the armchair and follow into the kitchen. Standing there and watching him.

“You don’t have to feed me,” you murmur.

“I want to.”

“You don’t have to wait either.”

“I still want to.”

You stare at him and he is watching you again. Not hungrily. Not like prey. Like a man who built his entire patience around you. Like someone who chooses to wait—because when he finally takes, he wants you begging.

The two of you eat together. Relax. Laugh. Talk about how your shift went and he listens like your every word is sacred. He brushes your wrist when he hands you a drink and your skin sparks. He smiles when you groan over the mochi, satisfied, and tells you you’re cute with your mouth full.

You almost choke.

And with dinner gone, now completely full and satisfied, you don't get up. You stay curled in his lap on the couch, head against his chest, his arms loose but locked around you.

His fingers skim slow patterns along your spine. One hand settles low on your hip—possessive. Barely moving. Right over the place he’ll someday bite.

“Minho.”

“Mmm?”

“You still haven’t fed.”

“I know.”

“It’s been days.”

“It’s been perfect.”

You pull back, just enough to look at him. “Are you… trying to drive me insane?”

“No,” he whispers. “I’m trying to make sure when I finally touch you like that—you don’t want me to stop.”

Your breath hitches. Minho always has a way with words and yet every time, he manages to catch you off-guard. Every. Single. Time. Without missing a beat.

He studies you for a long moment. His eyes glow a shade darker than before. His glamour hums under his skin. Not fully active—but close. Feral held in silk. You reach for him. Not to kiss. Not to provoke. Just… to touch.

You cup his face. Slide your thumb across his bottom lip. Whisper: “I’m ready.”

He closes his eyes. Breathes in. The muscles in his jaw shift.

“No,” he says, voice low. Wrecked. “Not yet.”

“Why?”

“Because when I do it—I’m going to take my time. And I want you rested. Fed. Touched. I want your thighs shaking before I even put my mouth on you.”

You go still.

He leans in, presses his lips to your temple. Light. Reverent. “Go shower,” he murmurs. “I’ll make tea.”

“You’re evil.”

“I’m in love.”

You towel off in the bathroom. Steam still curls along the mirror edges. Your skin is flushed, glowing. Damp hair clings to the slope of your neck, and water trails down your thighs like the final straw in a slow-burning war.

You think about asking him where he put your change of clothes.

You step out barefoot, towel wrapped around you—and he’s in the kitchen, back turned, pouring tea like this is just another night.

But then—

He sees you.

And he stops moving. Like the air went static. Like the glamour around him cracked.

You don’t say anything. Just… exist. Wet hair. Bare skin. Towel slipping slightly.

He’s across the room in seconds.

Minho doesn’t speak. Doesn’t blink. Just stands there, every line of his body taut—controlled, but barely. That glimmer in his eyes isn’t patience anymore.

It’s possession.

His voice drops low. “You’re testing me.”

You raise an eyebrow. “I showered. You said tea.”

“I lied.”

“Oh?”

“I’ve wanted to kiss you since the minute you got off your shift.”

You smile. Tilt your head. Let the towel slip a fraction lower. “So kiss me.”

And oh baby, those words? That simple, so kiss me? It unravels him. His hands move to your waist, gripping and pulling you in. Hard. Not reckless, but firm—like he needs you right now or he might detonate.

The next thing is his lips. They crash into yours—hot, deep, starving.

Just teeth and tongue and a low growl vibrating in his chest as your hands fist in his shirt and you press against him like you’ve been waiting for this exact fire.

“Fuck,” he breathes into your mouth.

“That bad?”

“That perfect.”

His hands slide down your back, over the curve of your ass, fingers digging in like he’s memorizing the shape. The towel loosens—he catches it with one hand, pulling it tighter, just to keep you on edge.

You gasp against his mouth as he presses you back against the hallway wall, hips pinning you.

You can feel him. Hard. Huge. Throbbing. And still—he doesn’t rush. His lips trail down your jaw. Your neck. The skin over your collarbone.

“I want to taste you,” he whispers, teeth brushing the place he’ll bite eventually.

“You can.”

“Not like that. Not yet.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Everything else.”

He kisses your shoulder. Then the hollow of your throat. Towel snatched off of you, leaving you bare for his eyes only. His mouth is everywhere—hungry, reverent, wet. You gasp when he bites—not the bite, but a sharp nibble on the inside of your thigh when he drops to his knees.

“Minho—”

“You don’t know how good you smell,” he growls.

“Then bite me.” you almost start begging for it, pleading for him to bite you.

“Not yet.”

He kisses your hip.

Looks up.

Eyes blown. Lips parted, fangs peeking. A line of your arousal slides down your leg and he watches it like it’s blood.

Then smirks. “But I’m going to eat you now.”

The hallway light glows gold behind his silhouette, but all you can see is the dark fire in his eyes as he stares at your cunt like it’s something holy. No—worse. Like it’s his.

One sharp inhale through his nose and dives in, mouth to your wet cunt instantly, placing an open-mouthed kiss. “Fuck,” he moans, tongue flattening against your folds.

Your knees buckle—you gasp, grabbing his hair, and he just groans like that turned him on more.

“Minho—”

“Hold still.”

He slides one hand up to brace your thigh over his shoulder—you’re open, exposed, wet—and he fucking devours you. Not polite. Not careful. Messy, slow, deep.

Purposeful.

His tongue runs flat and slow from your entrance to your clit—then circles, then sucks, then presses in again like he’s mapping your body in real time.

You’re gasping. Arching. Shaking.

He doesn’t stop.

Minho's fully gone. Pussy-drunk. You can feel it. From the way he is licking you. Like your taste is his fucking drug and he’s addicted with no rehab in sight. “You taste like a fucking spell,” he pants, tongue lapping, lips slick.

“You're drooling,” you gasp.

“You’re dripping.”

He licks it all up like you’re wasting it. Your fingers dig into his hair. Your head hits the wall. You're moaning—half-begging, half-cursing—and he’s obsessed with it. Obsessed with you.

He moans into your pussy. Louder. Vibrating.

“Say my name.”

“Minho—”

“Again.”

“Minho, fuck, I—”

“That’s it.”

His tongue flicks your clit mercilessly now, fast, deliberate, perfectly timed with how he rocks you against his face.

But then, fuck. You feel it. The slow, slick push of one finger—just one—but so thick, so deep, curling like it’s written in his fucking nature. A single knuckle, testing. Then further. Then all the way in.

“Oh my god—”

“You can take it,” he rasps against your cunt. “You were made to take it.”

He fucks you with his finger, slow at first—press, curl, retreat. All while his tongue keeps flicking your clit in brutal, precise circles.

Obscene. Filthy. Perfect.

You’re moaning—loudly now. You don’t care if the neighbours hear. You don’t care about anything except the stretch of his finger, the swirl of his tongue, the rhythmic suck that sends you lurching into the wall.

“Fucking—Minho—”

“Look at me.”

You look. You shouldn’t have looked.

His eyes are blown wide. Hair a mess. Mouth glistening. His lips shine with your slick. He’s looking up at you like you’re holy—like he’ll ruin you just to worship you better.

He then pushes another finger in. Stretching you wider. He groans when your walls clench down. “So tight,” he breathes. “You gonna cum for me like this?”

“I—fuck—I can’t—”

“You will.”

He speeds up—fingers curling inside you, tongue relentless on your clit.

Your knees are gone. Your moans are wrecked. Your hands are gripping his hair so hard he growls—and then moans again like he likes it.

You're drenched. You’re drooling. You're going to cum.

“Come on, sweetheart,” he whispers, voice soaked in sin. “Cum for me. Let me taste it all.”

And you do. You fall apart. Walls pulsing. Toes curling. Breath shattered. He stays on you the whole time—lapping up every drop of your juices like they're his final fucking meal. He rides you through the orgasm, through the high with soft licks and soft thrusts of his fingers before slowly easing them out of your wet cunt.

Minho pulls back and stands, hands moving to the back of your thighs and picking you up almost instantly. Lips on your own, kissing you hungrily with his soaked mouth, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

“You’re mine now,” he says against your lips, soft and wrecked and dark.

“Already were.”

Minho doesn’t speak after that. He just breathes—heavy, dark, hungry. His eyes never leave yours as he carries you to the bedroom, steps slow, like he’s walking you to your fate.

And maybe he is.

He sets you down like you’re made of silk and sin, but the look on his face? Anything but soft. His jaw clenches. His eyes burn. He takes a moment to take you in. Devours you without touching. Like he’s trying to memorize every inch before he ruins it.

Then—finally—he moves.

He pulls off his shirt. Slow. Controlled. You see every shift of muscle, every flex of restraint. Then his pants. Then he’s standing in just his briefs.

And he’s hard. So fucking hard it hurts to look at. His cock strains against the fabric, thick, leaking, twitching.

He's onto you in less than a second.

Crawling over you on the bed, pressing kisses along your thighs. One, then two, then higher—then your inner thigh—and his breath shakes.

“Let me,” he whispers.

And you nod. Because fuck, you’d let him do anything.

He traces his fangs across your inner thigh. And you feel it. See it. That tiny shift in him—like a predator finally letting instinct take the reins.

“You’re sure?”

“Minho, bite me.”

His hand grips your thigh. He moans—moans—from the sound of that. And finally, sinks his fangs in. Teeth in flesh.

It’s sharp, yes—but it’s also ecstasy. Blood spills, warm and hot, down your thigh as he drinks, sucking, groaning, grinding against the bed like your taste alone is enough to make him come.

“Fuck—fuck—you taste—” he can’t even finish the sentence. He’s lost.

He’s pussy-drunk and blood-drunk now. Gone feral. Gone beautiful.

Your back arches. Your moans blend with his groans. It’s messy. Bloody. His mouth is stained, his chin dripping, and he looks so fucking good like this. Eyes glowing. Lips parted. Still licking, still lapping—like you’re a feast he never wants to end.

He pulls back slowly, tongue dragging over the wound.

“Mine,” he says again. Lower now. Possessive. Reverent.

“Yours,” you pant. “I’m yours.”

Minho crawls back up and crashes his lips on your own. Kissing you deeply. Lustfully.

Blood on both your lips. Lust in both your mouths. His hips grind into yours—still clothed, still desperate.

Your body is still trembling from the bite—thighs slick, nerves sparking, lips swollen from the way he kissed you after drinking your blood like wine. But he hasn’t fucked you yet. Hasn’t even taken off his briefs. And yet—he already owns you.

He’s above you, braced on his hands. Eyes dark. Lust layered over hunger, layered over obsession.

You reach for him. He catches your wrist. Kisses your pulse. Smirks when your breath stutters.

“You don’t even know how long I’ve waited to ruin you.”

And then those last threads of restraint snap.

His briefs come off, cock springing free—thick, hard, leaking, the head flushed dark and furious. You moan at the sight of it. He just raises a brow.

“Use your words.”

You swallow, lips parting. “Please.”

His hand moves to your jaw, tilting your face up, fingers firm. His thumb presses against your lower lip, slipping inside when you gasp.

“Open wider.”

You do. He slides his thumb deeper.

“That’s it. My perfect little kitten. So obedient now.”

But you roll your eyes. Wrong move. His smirk turns sharp. “There she is.” And then you’re flipped. Face down. Ass up. A hand on the back of your neck, one gripping your hips like handles.

His palm cracks across your ass—once. Twice. Again. The sting is addicting. The growl in his throat even more so. “You roll those eyes again and I’ll fuck you with my fingers until you cry and beg like a good girl.”

You whimper. You’re soaked.

His fingers find your soaked cunt, and he groans again, louder this time. Soaked. Dripping before retreating his fingers and replacing with his cock, sliding it along your slit—just once. Just enough to make you cry out. And then?

He stops.

“Beg.”

You arch. You squirm. You groan. “Please—fuck, please, Minho, I need it, I want it—”

“Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours.”

“Say it like you mean it.”

“I’m fucking yours.”

And then he thrusts in—deep. Hard. Endless. You moan loudly. Your back arches. His hand wraps around your throat from behind, pulling you up against his chest, his fangs grazing your neck—not biting, not yet, just letting you feel the threat.

“You feel that baby?” he snarls into your ear. “That’s mine now. Your pussy. Your blood. Your fucking soul.”

He slams in again.

Your moans are wrecked. Your body’s trembling.

"You're not gonna cum baby. No no, you're going to cry for it, beg for it, am I clear?"

You only manage to whimper, a quick nod.

Minho grins, a soft chuckle escaping him. "That's right." His hips roll once—just once—and your eyes flutter shut. Too deep. Too good. Too perfect. “Look at you,” he growls, dragging his cock out slowly, making you feel every inch. “Fucking melting already and I’ve barely started.”

You whimper. His hand tightens on your throat, firm. “Stay right there, pretty thing,” he murmurs into your hair. “Back arched. Thighs wide. Let me ruin what’s already mine.”

And then he slams in—again. And again. And again. Rhythm unrelenting, brutal, delicious.

Your mouth falls open but no sound comes out. Just wrecked gasps, breathless sobs of pleasure as he fucks into you like his life depends on it. Like your cunt was carved out just for his cock. Because it is. It was. It always will be.

“So warm,” he groans. “So fucking tight."

His hands roam—possessive, greedy—fingers dragging over your waist, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise. Then lower. To your thighs.

Then? He leans down. And bites. Right into the slope of your shoulder.

You scream.

Blood spills. And he moans. “Fuck—yes—baby, you taste like a fucking prayer.”

Your body trembles violently, caught in the overwhelming rush of pain and pleasure. His cock still pistons into you while his fangs stay buried in your shoulder—drinking, devouring, claiming.

You go limp. Floaty. Brain white-noise dizzy from the high of it. But Minho? He doesn’t stop. If anything, it makes him wilder.

“Mine,” he growls into your skin, pulling back just enough to let blood drip down your shoulder and onto the sheets. “All fucking mine.”

His hips snap harder. Your slick squelches. His cock slides in perfectly, perfectly, perfectly—

You’re dripping. Slick and blood and spit and ruin.

And he’s drunk on it.

“My nurse,” he pants. “My good girl. My blood doll. My fucking kitten.”

You nod, voice gone. Mouth parted. Completely wrecked.

He grins.

“You wanna cum now, sweetheart?”

You sob. “Yes. Please. Please, Minho—”

“Then say it.”

“I’m yours. I’m your good girl. I’m your fucking good girl, please—”

“Good,” he whispers. “Then fucking cum on my cock, pretty. Make it messy.”

And you do. You fall apart—ripped open, raw, shaking. Your pussy clamps down so hard he groans, hips stuttering.

“That’s it, that’s my girl, give it to me, give it all—fuck, fuck—”

He chases his own high with a savage growl, cock twitching, pulsing as he cums deep inside you, heat flooding your soaked cunt. But he doesn’t stop. His hips keep grinding, slow now, as if milking every drop of your orgasm—of his own.

And then? His lips are on your neck again. Not gentle this time. Not teasing.

Feral.

“Still mine,” he pants. “Still hungry.”

You barely have time to gasp before he bites. Hard. Deep. Again. Your scream chokes into a moan, your body spasming around his cock still buried inside you.

“M-Minho—fuck—!”

Your hands claw at the sheets. You’re trembling, eyes fluttering, body jerking as your orgasm is prolonged by the blood loss, by the dizzying pull of him sucking at your vein like it’s salvation.

It’s the third time he’s fed from you tonight. And you feel it. The way the world tilts. The heat behind your eyes. The ache in your neck. But fuck—it feels so good.

“You’re not stopping,” you gasp, voice raw. “You’re still feeding—”

“You taste better when you’re fucked out,” he murmurs against your neck, voice wrecked. “Better when you’re mine.”

His thrusts are much slower now, but deeper, grinding and rubbing every oversensitive nerve in your swollen, soaked pussy. “You gonna pass out, kitten?” he hums, licking at your neck now. “You gonna fall asleep with my cum dripping out of you and my marks on your skin?”

You nod. Or maybe you try to. The room spins, but your body won’t stop clenching around him, pulsing with overstimulation and ecstasy and heat.

Minho finally slows. Still inside you. Still wrapped around you. His breath hitches. His fangs retreat from your neck and kisses the spot so softly, so gently. Licks the wound.

“You did so well, baby,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “So fucking perfect for me.”

You hum sleepily, completely spent.

Minho slowly pulls out of you with a hiss—his cock wet and still hard but twitching with the aftershocks of overstimulation. Your soft whimper at the loss has him pausing, thumb grazing your thigh where he bit you earlier, eyes dragging over the blood smears like a collector admiring his masterpiece.

“Shh,” he murmurs. “Easy. I’ve got you.”

You’re boneless beneath him. Shaky. Light-headed. Completely wrecked.

He eases you onto your back with surgical care, brushing damp strands from your face, trailing kisses along your jaw and collarbone to soothe the tremble in your limbs.

Minho stands up, grabs his briefs and puts them on before disappearing for only a few seconds. By the time you blink, he's back. Hands carrying a basin of warm water, fresh cloths, and that damn precision he always keeps tucked behind his smile.

He doesn’t speak.

Just starts with your thighs. Careful. Gentle. Attentive.

The cloth drags through the mess he made—his cum, your slick, blood from the bite. You flinch once, and he hushes you immediately. “Hush. I know it’s sore. Just breathe.” He wipes you down in slow strokes, cleaning between your thighs like he’s winding you down after open-heart surgery. There’s no rush. No sound but the soft splashes of water and your shallow breaths.

Once clean, he moves to your neck—licking again where he bit, sealing the puncture gently. There’s a cloth on your chest. A warm one on your belly. You think you might be floating.

And then he dresses you.

His oversized shirt. Sliding it over your head, smoothing it down your arms, fingers brushing your wrists like you’re made of glass. Tucks the hem under your thighs. Fixes the collar.

When he’s sure you’re safe—covered—he lifts you and onto his lap. Minho grabs the blanket and places it around your shoulders. One arm around your waist, the other in your hair, brushing it back from your forehead with all the care in the world.

“Look at you now,” he whispers. “Fucked dumb. Blood-drunk. My perfect little nurse.”

He holds you like that for a long while. Letting your heartbeat slow. Letting the fog clear from your mind. You think you hear him hum something low under his breath—familiar, maybe a lullaby.

And when he feels you melt entirely? He whispers, “Drink this,” and presses a glass of water to your lips. “Small sips.”

Your lips part automatically, letting him tilt the glass for you—his fingers cradling your jaw with reverence, like you’re the holy thing here. You sip slow. Let it trickle down your throat. You don’t even taste it, not really. Just feel the temperature. Feel him.

“Mm,” you rasp, lips curling lazily. “You always this bossy after turning me into roadkill?”

Minho snorts—actually snorts—and it’s so rare you blink up at him like it’s a miracle. He sets the glass down, eyes crinkling faintly, brushing his thumb across your cheekbone.

“Roadkill still moaning like a bitch in heat?”

You gasp, scandalized and amused, trying to swat at him, but you barely land a tap. Your limbs are noodles. Useless.

“You’re such a menace.”

“You’re the one who let a vampire fuck you raw and bleed you dry in the same hour,” he murmurs, smiling faintly as he adjusts you in his arms. “You knew what I was.”

“Didn’t know you were gonna ruin me.”

He leans in, lips brushing your ear. “That—” his voice is low, feral, tender, “—was the point.”

He settles you both onto the bed, moving with precision and silence. You don’t even notice how efficiently he tucks you in until you’re under soft sheets and two blankets—his hoodie still on you, his body heat curling around you like a second layer of bedding.

He presses behind you. One arm snakes around your waist. His leg hooks over yours.

His nose nestles into your hair, voice barely audible now.

“You let me bite you three times tonight,” he murmurs. “Let me fuck you stupid. Let me drink until you went all soft in my arms like a little doll. Your first ruin. Let me ruin you."

You hum sleepily. “Told you… I’m your nurse…”

He chuckles, lips at your temple. “Not just my nurse.”

"No?"

"My everything." he whispers.

And between those soft spoken words, you drift somewhere between dream and delirium, his heartbeat (stolen or not) pulsing steady behind your spine.

His breath stays even against your nape. And for a moment—just a moment—you wonder if this is what peace feels like.

Until—

“Minho…” you mumble, half-asleep. “If you bite me a fourth time tonight I swear to God I’m suing.”

He hums innocently. “Mmm. Thought you liked being lightheaded and full of me.”

“I like having a functioning central nervous system.”

“Don’t worry,” he mutters. “You don’t need a brain to be mine.”

You whimper and smack his thigh. Weakly. He just laughs, low and smug, and nuzzles deeper into your hair.

The next morning? You wake up drooling on his pillow with vampire hickeys in three different anatomical regions, but at least there's a glass of water waiting on the nightstand.

There’s also a sticky note.

In Minho’s criminally neat handwriting:

Don’t move. I’m making breakfast. Don’t pass out in the shower or I will sedate you. Also: stop moaning my name in your sleep, the neighbours are starting to ask questions. — Yours, eternally. 🖤

And that’s how life goes for you now. Fucked to ruin; Bitten thrice a week (minimum); Kept hydrated by the world's most sadistic vampire boyfriend; In love; Definitely doomed.

But hey.

You’re still breathing. Still bruised. Still his. Still fucked. Still spoiled. Still taken care of and loved.

And you wouldn’t change a fucking thing.

[writememysticfalls]

Naughty | Elijah Mikaelson

Summary: Elijah's body starts to misbehave when he's around you. Elijah has to hide it before he makes a fool of himself.

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x reader

Genre: Suggestive, fluffy, flustered!Elijah

Word Count: <1k

Elijah blinked, trying to remember what he had been doing. From the moment you entered the kitchen in a sheer lilac slip dress, everything had gone hazy.

You stretched for the can of coffee on the top shelf. “Elijah,” you called. “A leg up, please?”

Elijah cleared his throat. “Of course.”

He kneeled on the floor, and you stepped on his thigh, grabbing his shoulders to steady yourself.

As you reached for the coffee, and Elijah watched your silk dress skate higher and higher up your brown thigh.

“Almost…” you said, moving your foot up Elijah’s leg, till it almost brushed his crotch.

Elijah felt sparks of pleasure run up his leg. His body started to misbehave. He could not let you see this.

Elijah moved away from you so fast you fell onto the floor.

“Elijah?” you said, catching your breath. “What happened?”

Elijah cursed. Did this have to happen now? In front of you, his brother’s friend?

You pulled Elijah towards you, and gasped.

Elijah’s eyes were red, and veins covered his cheeks. His fangs were pointing out.

“Oh no, Elijah,” you said. “Are you hungry? When did you last feed?”

Elijah gulped. “Vampires gain their fangs when hungry… threatened… or aroused.”

You laughed into your hands. “Oh my god. Did I just give Elijah Mikaelson a vampire hard-on?”

Elijah’s grabbed the doorframe with one hand, crushing it. “It's nothing. I just need a few moments to collect myself.”

You sucked your cereal spoon, smiling. “So you do have a thing for me.”

“Of course not. Mere coincidence,” Elijah said, mopping his brow with his handkerchief. His fangs shrunk away.

“So,” you said naughtily, “nothing will happen if I do this.”

You dropped the spoon at his feet and bent to pick it up. Elijah’s eyes were glued to your dangling necklace… and your soft chest beneath.

Elijah’s fangs shot out with a hiss. “For the love of God,” he muttered.

“Don’t be embarrassed,” you said, slinging your hands over his shoulders. “It's cute.”

Elijah shut his eyes. “I am not some newborn vampire, unable to control his lust.”

“But you are around me,” you said, gazing up at him through your lashes.

Elijah watched you with open-mouthed awe, not even trying to hide his fangs.

“It's okay,” you said, lowering your voice. “I have an insane vamp boner for you.”

“Is that so?” he said, his lips pulling up.

Your eyes were wide and innocent as you toyed with Elijah’s collar. “So, what can a vampire do when their fangs…misbehave?”

Elijah smiled down at you, pulling your body against his. His fingers made tiny circles on the silk over your waist.

“There are many options,” he said quietly. “Usually one would leave, but you will not let me. One may try to think about something else,” he coiled your hair around his finger, “but that is also proving impossible.” He raised his chin sharply. “That leaves, well, embracing the situation.”

He swept your hair away from your throat.

“May I?” he said. His fangs were poised over your neck to drink.

Your eyes slipped shut and your breath hitched in your throat. “Of course I'll help you with your little problem,” you said. “You can address my sticky situation later."

MAIN MASTERLIST

Let us know what you thought in the comments or on anon! 💋

[nottsangel]

i’ve been on a HUGE vampire obsession lately and vampire!reader x mattheo has been delicious to read!

But I can’t take my mind off how would vampire!mattheo and vampire!theo be with human reader.

And I can sooo see them with a kind of a love triangle thing going on (maybe I’m watching too much buffy and the vampire diaries😅)

i’d def let vampire!theo and vampire!mattheo drink from me. idc

tw blood. vampires

“come on baby, let us have a little taste.” mattheo purrs into your left ear, gently brushing the hair from your neck and exposing your tender, pristine skin. he instinctively curls his lip in lust, the sharp fangs ready to sink into your flesh.

“you really gonna let us starve, piccola? how selfish.” theo chimes in from the other side of you, his hand resting on your thigh as he gazes down at you. his blue eyes are filled with ravenous hunger, eager to devour you and still his cravings.

“okay, go on then… but be gentle!” you eventually relent, always wanting to please your boys. you don’t have to tell them twice, as they eagerly draw closer to your neck, fangs sinking into your flesh from both sides, making you hiss at the sharp sting. even though you told them to be gentle, they’re anything but, greedily drinking from you.

both boys are in heaven, the metallic but sweet, intoxicating taste making their minds fuzzy. no other blood compares to yours, they always say, which is why you ended up in this love triangle in the first place. they both want—no, need—you to still their bloodlust. you are addictive. and no matter how many times they try drinking from other humans, they always come crawling back to you.

mattheo’s hand roams over your body before landing on your chest, roughly massaging as he feeds from your neck, while theo squeezes your thigh, his hand creeping higher and higher. they’re so sloppy and careless with it— your blood dripping down your body, their groping hands leaving red marks all over.

you moan softly, unable to suppress the arousal building inside you as their sharp fangs dig deep into your delicate flesh, their hungry mouths attached to your neck, their hands fervently roaming your body— and they can tell you’re dripping between your legs, both boys cockily smirking against your skin.

“cazzo. you taste so sweet, amore.” “mmm, you’re driving us fuckin’ crazy. we’re never letting you go.”

ੈ♡˳

[rhaenyraeri]

Eternity - Remmick

Pairing: Remmick x fem!Reader

Summary: Eternal damnation is only preferred when you both can spend eternity together, not when you’re alone.

Warnings: major character death, gore, angst(!), i did some lore changing, mayhap a little ooc smoke. i did my best lol. also minor proof reading was done, I wrote this listening to mound bayou on repeat and made myself sad writing it

Also, a note: i wrote this with a reader in mind that bared no resemblance to one race or the other, leaving it open to actually being an x reader. as a white person, it makes me upset to know there are people writing x readers in a way that isn’t racially descriptive of everyone reading, and also to know people are writing of the reader being in any way related to the klan.

if i made any mistakes, please let me know! i want to make it as racially ambiguous as possible. my writings are a safe place for everyone to feel included.

The sun came over the horizon and onto the vampire Remmick, and the two he had been hellbent on killing. A slight gust of smoke filled the air. Pain surged through his once, just a moment ago, envious, rage-filled, hunger devoted body. He let go of Sammie, who ran over to Smoke, grateful to have survived. They watched as the flames grew higher, now covering Remmick’s body, signaling his demise. They were safe now, the hell that the night had put them through had now come to an end. They backed away, creating distance from what was happening before them.

As his body hit the ground, they turned to make their leave. They’d survived the evil that filled their juke, at the loss of so many of their loved ones as well as friends and acquaintances. Limping away, the sound of sobbing filled their ears. It was you. Remmick’s wife, the one that earlier in the night, when his group arrived to the juke, had been right by his side and shown deep admiration of him. The two of you led the group, doing most of the talking, and you tried to compliment your way inside, of course to no avail. Stack had even, when you all walked away, minorly praised your attempt, saying you had the most appeal out of them all because of how charming your words were.

Now, here you were, laid across the charred body of Remmick, sobbing the most mournful, desperate, horrid cries they’d ever heard. Both men were unsure of where you came from, or how exactly you hadn’t met your end with the others. A vampire, like the rest of the hive minded bodies of their company that night, in the sunlight, though your skin was not showing any signs of weakness to the sun. When you looked up from where your head was on Remmick’s burnt chest, it was daylight. Your teary eyes slowly traced from the sky to your body. You weren’t dying. Not even in the slightest. You were damned to this earth from the gift Remmick gave you all those years ago, when he saw you performing with a group, playing some songs of their lineage, admiring how perfect you played that violin. You were different.. something he couldn’t live without. That he was sure of. The night you met, he’d spoke to you after the performance and, with that charm of his, got you to a secluded location, changed you, and from there on out you were inseparable. Love at first sight, he called it.

You knew you weren’t dying with him on this day. You’d suffered wounds from the fight just before and, although painful, they weren’t life threatening to you. To any other, it would’ve killed them. But you were different. Remmick had always said that, with how human you remained after you were turned, how you weren’t affected by the hive mind at all. The sobbing grew more intense, as your life with Remmick flashed before your eyes. The night at that bar, the countless days you’d spend in that abandoned cabin in the woods the two of you called home, the talks of, in another life, having a family together. A real family, a child of your own and a house you took deep pride in. The two of you were cursed to this life, and you knew you’d never get out of it. There was no returning to what you once were.

Footsteps rang in your ears and got closer, a pair of steps shuffling alongside them. You looked up, eyes so blurry with bloody vampiric tears and human tears alike. You could make out the figure, belonging to the man named Smoke.

“How come you’re not burning?,” he noted, squatting beside the two of you in the shallow water. No remorse was to be shown, as he lost the woman he loved but an hour or so before, to the man you laid clinging to. What sympathy were you to be given? You were just as compliant to this as Remmick.

“I… I don’t… I can’t.. I don’t know,” was all you could mutter out between each smothering cry. Remmick was all you knew, all you had. Not even a group of vampires remained. You were alone. Forever. A fear you had told him about one night, after he’d shown concern from being out in the sunlight too long from greedy feasting.

You heard Sammie whisper something to Smoke, who then stood up from his position.

“You’ll see Annie again… and your baby girl. I know you will,” you spoke, your words laced with complete confidence. She knew a lot with her practices, and you knew that mojo bag protected him against the vampires. The love they shared was strong enough to bind them together forever, to meet once more when it came his time to pass.

His feet came to a dead stop, as he turned to look at your pitiful state once more.

“How do you know her? Or about our daughter? How can I be so sure?”

“The love you two have.. it does more than you know.”

He stared at you. He was conversing with one of the creatures of the night that cost him his love. He raised the gun to shoot you, but he stopped himself. To be fair, you didn’t deserve mercy from him. You knew that. But the heartbreak in you begged for it. It crawled around your chest, scratching your skin like knives, cutting at your deadened heart, and dragging the guilt around with it.

Once more, he turned to leave. You were to succumb to the sun at some point, and that wound in your torso would only speed it up. At least, that was the hope. As he walked away, your crying grew louder… and louder.. and more desperate.

“Please!,” you managed to scream out, causing them both to turn to you once more, “I cannot live the rest of eternity like this.. Kill me.. Let me be free..”

Annie had said the souls were trapped in the body of a vampire when they were changed. She had shown remorse for them, knowing they’d never feel the sunrise again and that they were cursed to walk amongst this hate filled world for all eternity with no escape other than death. Smoke took a breath. He thought of his love for her, how her faith in her practices meant she and their daughter would reunite with him once more. He took some steps, bent down to get a thick, sturdy stick, and approached you.

Your body was basically covered in the ash from Remmick’s corpse now, pieces of the char stuck to your face. As you looked up, you made eye contact with the man in the back, Sammie, and gave a look filled with sympathy and sorrow. He experienced terror at the hands of your husband, and you felt for him. You then looked to Smoke, staring right into his eyes as you gave him the most thankful look you could, as he stabbed the stick into your chest, right into your heart. The pain was profound and horrendous, but you kept your eyes locked on his and with one last wail of tears, your words ran together. He could only make out two words; your final words.

“Thank you.”

He stood above the two corpses now, just looking. He didn’t know how you were certain of him reuniting with his family, but it gave him hope and, oddly, comfort. He moved you closer to Remmick’s body, so the two of you could, maybe, reunite in a world where you got your happy ending. An ending he hoped he would get the blessing of experiencing himself one day.

[chuulyssa]

𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐄 𝐆𝐎𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐃 𝐎𝐍 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐎𝐃𝐘 !

𝙨𝙮𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨 — bsd men and their favourite part of you

𝙜𝙚𝙣𝙧𝙚 — smut and fluff

𝙨𝙩𝙖𝙧𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜 — dazai, ranpo, kunikida, chuuya, akutagawa, fyodor, nikolai, sigma x reader

𝗗𝗔𝗭𝗔𝗜 loves your thighs. he loves to lay his head on them and rest, drowning himself in your soft skin, away from kunikida's screams and his piling work. they are his comfort, sometimes he catches himself squeezing them when he's thinking of a new plan or contemplating his existence. he likes the feeling of your clothed thigh, and how you shake his hands away when he does it in the middle of an important meeting. but dazai is dazai, and he reminds you of that by burying his face in between your thighs for two hours straight. poor you.

𝗥𝗔𝗡𝗣𝗢 likes to slide his fingers along the curvature of your waist in his pastime. it feels awfully nice to grab you by it when you're least expecting it, and even nicer to hike your shirt higher when you're not looking. ranpo is usually an unimpressed man because he correctly guesses his way out of everything, but his pupils dilate whenever you wear tops that show your waist. it's as if you're asking him to kiss you all over the magnificent curve. keep going and he might reward you with it :)

𝗞𝗨𝗡𝗜𝗞𝗜𝗗𝗔 has been in a dilemma for long. although his ideals called for liking conventional body parts in his lover like the eyes or the lips, he is very much inclined towards the movement of your hands. just watching your fingers flex around your pen while you filled in paperwork, or the back of your hand resting on your table lazily leaves him stiff in his seat. he can't keep his eyes off your fancy nails, and he likes to pepper kisses around your knuckles when the two of you are alone.

𝗖𝗛𝗨𝗨𝗬𝗔 thinks he can spend eternity staring at your ass. it's perfect from all angles, and even better to touch. the way his fingers dig into the plush skin make his throat go dry, and he wishes nothing more than to eat you out every single time he catches sight of your butt. he's not the best at controlling himself, but sometimes circumstances force him to, such as in battles, when you're fighting an enemy, chuuya decides to take a break and check out your ass for a few moments for good luck.

𝗔𝗞𝗨𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗔𝗪𝗔 fell for you the hardest when he saw the love you held for him in your eyes. they are of the prettiest shade, he thinks. he stares into your eyes whenever you're alone, they bring tranquility to him. he feels he can be lost in them forever. there's something about watching them scrunch up when you laugh, or roll back when he's rutting into you. akutagawa likes that he can tell how you feel just by looking into your eyes. he believes it enhances trust in your relationship.

𝗙𝗬𝗢𝗗𝗢𝗥 won't admit it, but all he ever wants to do to you in his free time is mark your neck. he's a busy man, and it's not always you two end up in bed, so nipping at your neck is one of the few things that seems as intimate to him. he loves it when you recoil under his kisses, and he loves it even more when you have to walk around with the bruises he made because you were unable to hide them. fyodor might have been a vampire in one of his lives, but you're not complaining, are you?

𝗡𝗜𝗞𝗢𝗟𝗔𝗜 buries his face into your boobs at every chance he gets. he enjoys watching your nipples harden at the slightest provocation, and he gets off watching your boobs bounce when he shakes his head into your chest. he always gives you back hugs and leaves his hands suspiciously close to them. nikolai likes to squeeze your boob and pinch your bud, cackling at the frown on your face and kissing it. he has a hand on your chest even in non-sexual moments. the feeling of your skin so vulnerable under his touch makes him high.

𝗦𝗜𝗚𝗠𝗔 thought he was in heaven when he kissed you for the time. the taste of your lips was a luxury to him, and he might have melted had you not held onto him so tightly. he wants to cherish that feeling forever, so he always gives you kisses and quick pecks whenever you're nearby. when he's stressed, he gives you a long kiss to ease it and forget. when you're stressed, he coddles you and gives you small kisses. your lips have become comfort to him. he thinks it will be nice if you were his last kiss too, just as you were his first.

[monstersholygrail]

Bite Me Baby

Werewolf bf x fem!reader— rough sex, clawing, marking, biting, brief mentions of blood, edging, aftercare

You had been nervous when you told your Werewolf bf that you were a vampire. You knew there were all those legends about your species being ancient rivals and even worse how some still believed in them. You knew your bf wasn’t like that and yet you were still nervous.

Nothing could’ve prepared you for his reaction. Instead of apprehension or worry, your Werewolf bf’s eyes flooded with lust. About the same time yours overflowed with alarm at the sight of it.

Further alarm moving through you when Werewolf bf jumps to tackle you down onto your bed. Inhaling deeply at your scent he can now pinpoint where he previously couldn’t before he nuzzles into the flesh there, adding his own scent to yours. Tiny growls leaving him as he does. You’re frozen, eyes wide, not knowing what to make of this reaction.

“Do you know how hard it’s been trying to hold back from taking you as roughly as I’ve wanted? Not wanting to break my pretty mates human body,” Werewolf bf snarls.

His hands move down your shape with a new fascination. His love for your body, perfect as it is, grows even deeper. He no longer bothers to be gentle, claws scratching down your form, fingers digging into your flesh, weight leaning on you. All to see how much you can take.

You moan, finally feeling his touch on a higher level than ever before now that neither of you have to hide or hold back any longer. “I want everything you can give me,” you beg.

Werewolf bf snarls, hands rushing to rid you of your clothing. Trying to be respectful but eventually using his claws to simply tear through what left you had on. You cry out, only getting more aroused by his intensified dominance.

“I expect you to bite back,” Werewolf bf snaps cheekily, a feral smirk on his face.

You go to bite back, so to speak, when Werewolf slams his long length inside you in one thrust, turning your words in a fierce shriek. All speech is immediately forgotten as your bf begins pounding into you. Sharp claws digging into your soft hips as he helps slam you down on his cock with his every movement.

Your body curls unnaturally in around his and he chuckles, watching how you squirm for him. Arms wrapping around his neck you bring his warm body closer to yours, allowing his cock to sink in even deeper inside you. Mirroring moans leave you both and Werewolf bf nips at your throat.

While sex with your Werewolf was naturally mindblowing and out of this world, the connection you two manage to reach now is nothing like you’ve ever felt. The pleasure not only coming from your bodies but also from your hearts. Nothing else standing between you two, both of you free to be yourselves and basking in the freedom of it. The acceptance you’re both met with continues to intensify the actions between you.

Suddenly remembing his words you nip back, but being a vampire your fangs naturally happen to sink in even deeper. A load roar echos throughout the room. Your bond with him forming as you mark him brings an indescribable ecstasy. Shocked from the noise you lean back, your fangs leaving with it.

The feeling suddenly fades and Werewolf bf snaps his hips even harder into your weeping pussy as it contracts around his length, eagerly searching to get that sensation back. Your jaw drops, your mind momentarily losing itself as you think about how good he’s fucking you and how addictive the feel of his cock is. Shaking your head of all other thoughts you force yourself to focus on your bf.

“My love, W-what’s wrong?” you pant out, rolling your hips and trying to keep up with his furious speed. Your body practically moving on its own as it subconsciously searches for him.

Werewolf bf merely grunts, brows furrowing as he searches for an explanation. The only conclusion he can come to is that you’re a vampire. Marking someone of his species must be different. Follow different rules and needed different steps.

But in the meantime… until those rules were followed and those steps were taken… you could mark him as many times as you wanted. It would fade as soon as your fangs left him and he’d get to feel that ecstasy once more.

Overcome with a newfound urgency, Werewolf bfs pace gets impossibly faster, making a complete mess out of you as your pussy gushes with arousal. His stamina only achievable due to his werewolf genes. Your bf shakes his head, huffing loudly as he moves.

“Nothing. Nothing. ‘So good, baby. So good. Don’t stop. Fuck, don’t you dare stop,” Werewolf bf snaps in desperation, tiny whimpers and whines leaving him.

Your hips arch as a gasp rips from your throat. Eyes widening you can see just how deeply you’re affecting him. Satisfaction swirls through your gut. Time and time again your Werewolf bf has managed to reduce you to nothing but weak noises one-word responses. Now the tables are turning and he’s finally getting a taste of his own medicine.

Truly wanting to make him pay, you clench your tight cunt down on his cock and watch as he howls, his eyes growing hazy. You lean up and lap at the drops of blood trickling down his neck. Werewolf bf begins to pant, his cock driving into you as a force of which only two supernaturals could ever withstand. Your bf’s hair stands on end and your body buzzes at the nerves he ignites within you.

“What? Want my fangs in your pretty little neck? Would you like my mark?” You whisper slowly in his ear, fang grazing the lobe.

Werewolf bf’s hips jolt forward, slamming into your cervix and you cry out, the pain mixing with the pleasure in an addictive fashion. You both hold onto each other, squeezing tightly. Using each other to ground yourselves against the friction of your bodies. Neither of you caring to be gentle any longer knowing you can take it as if you were made for each other.

And history called you enemies? When there has never been a match more perfect.

“Yes. F-fuck, please! Mark me. Over and over again until I pass out!” Your boyfriend growls out, his words barely audible through the rumbling animal noises leaving him.

Your eyes widen, having never heard your bf beg before. You start meeting his rabid thrusts with even more vigor and you come to the conclusion that you quite like it. Making your boyfriend a slobbering mess of a pup. With that realization you don’t waste another second before sinking your fangs back inside your Werewolf bf.

He howls his delight, a mix of growls and purrs leaving him as he feels the mating bond form between you. His cock twitches inside of you and he continues the relentless pounding of his hips. The combined sensations clashing together in a way that has him feeling like he can’t even breathe.

But then you remove your fangs and your bf exhales heavily. His mind growing more foggy, eyes growing more glassy, but his pace remaining just as brutal as ever. Never stopping in his pursuit to chase the pleasure he’s certain only you can give him.

Over and over the cycle continues. Sinking your fangs into your bf’s neck, letting the bond form, and then promptly removing them. You feeling the repetitive motion of the bond forming only to have it ripped away just at the precipice. Seeing the way it impacts your boyfriend adds to your already immense pleasure even if you can’t feel it the same way he does.

When you feel your Werewolf bf drooling onto your shoulder you know you have him right where you want him. Throwing your head back with a moan as your bf grinds his cock against the happy spot along your walls, you can see just how deep he is.

“Wanna cum, baby?” She ask through heavy breaths.

Your bf immediately whines, head nodding eagerly. You hadn’t been known he was waiting for your order but you can feel his knot swelling and pushing against your opening. All this too brings a deep satisfaction through your stomach and straight to your tingling messy core.

“Go then. Cum inside me and make me yours. It’s your turn to claim me.”

With those words it’s like your Werewolf bf returns to himself in a snap. With a ferocious roar he’s pulling his hips back and slamming his entire length inside of you. Forcing his knot into your puffy and sopping pussy. Your screams join his own as you two erupt together, your orgasms clashing into each other as you two cum at the same time. The world flashes white as you feel his hot semen splash along your walls, the waves of pleasure more than you can handle.

You both continue your steady rocking, riding out the waves of your ecstasy and prolonging it for as long as possible. His knot and your squeezing pussy keeping you both tightly together. Werewolf bf purrs lowly and nuzzles into your neck, touching as much of you as possible. You reciprocate without even realizing it. The closeness helping you both calm down from what you two experienced together.

The smooth glide of Werewolf bf’s wet nose rubbing along your nose has you humming in content. Adding to the feeling that you’re on cloud nine. A moment later your bf leans back and his content gaze mirrors your own as you look deep into each other’s eyes.

“The mark didn’t stick, did it?” He croaks out the question, his voice holding a tinge of sadness.

You angle your head and look down at his already healed neck. Not even a scar mark left behind. An ache settles in your chest as a sadness overcomes you as well. All it takes is the slow shake of your head to give him a proper answer and your bf lets out a long wolfy whine. He leans back down and nuzzles into your pulse point again.

“I’m going to mark you properly and I’m going to do it soon. Sooner now that I know you’re not human, my sneaky little mate,” your bf rumbles out. He can feel the heat of your blush as it runs up your neck and to your cheeks.

“Now I’ll be able to mark you back…” you whisper in his ear, trying to shake off your embarrassment for having foolishly been nervous to tell your bf the truth about your nature.

Werewolf boyfriend playfully snarls and snaps his jaw near your neck, earning an exaggerated gasp from you. But as your bf’s cock twitches inside your sore cunt, already prepared for another round, you’re not sure how playful that nip was.

You bare your neck to him and your bf instantly grows harder at your submission. Looking into his eyes you issue the challenge and he has no issues meeting it. More than ready to be the one to bite you this time.

[cece693]

Here goes out the finest dilf of all time (or at least in the twilight universe)—Charlie swan!!! I couldn't stop thinking about writing something for him and this idea came suddenly to me. Never was a Renee fan so this is going to bash her character immensely. Hope you enjoy!

Day Before the Wedding

pairing: charlie swan x gender neutral reader tags: Renee is a dick, Bella and Charlie are awesome, you're a cullen, not specified if you're human or a vampire, but in my head you are a vamp, green doesn't look good on Renee, Charlie getting his happily ever after :)

It happens at twilight, that slow drift of evening light stretching across the sky as you linger in the living room of the Swan household. The final touches for tomorrow’s wedding are in place—flowers tucked into vases, rows of chairs set out in the backyard, and the delicate swirl of ribbons hanging from the porch. You’d expected a hush of satisfaction to fill the house, a sense of calm before the celebration. Instead, a quiet tension hangs in the air.

The source is no mystery: Renee.

She’d arrived in Forks only a few days prior. Though your instincts bristled at the idea—her history with Charlie is…complicated—you encouraged him to extend an invitation anyway. After all, she’s still Bella’s mother, and you wanted to show good will and maturity. We’re all family in some sense, you told yourself.

But over the last few days, you’ve seen that courtesy returned with thinly veiled resentment. Jealousy. She’s not only upset that Charlie found happiness without her; it stings her pride to see him with someone better, someone from the Cullen family—a name practically synonymous with wealth, good looks, and that uncanny aura of perfection. Bella’s acceptance of you (not minding the fact she was also dating one certain Cullen boy) only poured salt in the wound.

Now, on the last evening before your wedding, it’s come to a head.

You’re in the living room, adjusting a loose piece of ribbon on one of the floral arrangements, when you hear raised voices in the kitchen. “You just can’t wait to rub this in my face, can you? Inviting me here, of all places. Picturing me watching while you marry someone from that Cullen family—Bella’s been practically adopted by them!”

“Renee,” Charlie warned, trying to keep his voice calm. “I invited you here because you’re Bella’s mother and because, once long ago, I loved you. I want to share my happiness—”

“Oh, you’re happy, all right. Happier than you ever were with me! And I’m supposed to just smile?”

Bella’s voice, tense but controlled: “Mom, this is ridiculous.”

Renee’s voice, pitched higher: “You don’t get it, Bella. You never do.”

A muffled response, then the sound of something bumping—a chair or a cabinet. Concern prickles at your chest. Setting the ribbons aside, you hurry into the kitchen to find Charlie, his face drawn tight with worry, standing between Bella and Renee. The two women glare at each other as if the slightest spark would set them off. When Renee sees you in the doorway, her expression sours further, eyes flicking to the ring on your finger. “And here they come. Perfect.”

“Mom, stop acting like Dad meeting them”—Bella jerks her head toward you—“is some personal insult to you. It’s not. He’s happy. I’m happy for him.”

Renee’s mouth twists. “Yes, I see how happy you all are,” she says bitterly. “With your perfect house”—her gaze sweeps over the tastefully decorated living room—“and your perfect wedding. How wonderful that Charlie finally managed to find someone to spend his days with.”

Charlie stiffens, and Bella’s face contorts with anger, but you don’t let the words affect you. It’s clear Renee’s lashing out from a place of jealousy—her ex-husband is moving on, and her daughter is slipping further away from the role of caretaker she once played in Renee’s life. You pity the woman, but you also know stirring the pot will accomplish nothing. So, with a calm only a Cullen could possess, you step forward.

“Renee,” you say gently, “I’m sorry you’re upset. We wanted you here for Charlie’s sake, and for Bella’s. But if being here is hurting you—”

Renee cuts you off with a sharp laugh, though her eyes shine with something that looks far too raw to be mere anger. “Hurting me? The only thing hurting me is watching you all pretend I’m the bad guy for feeling left behind. I was his wife, I’m Bella’s mother—am I not allowed to be upset that I’ve been replaced?”

Bella bristles. “You haven’t been replaced,” she fires back, trying to keep her voice level. “You have a place in my life, Mom. No one’s trying to take that away from you. But you can’t expect Dad to stay single and miserable just to spare your feelings.”

Charlie steps in then, his voice quieter but full of resolve. “Renee, we’ve both moved on. It didn’t have to be ugly. I wanted you here because you’re still family—Bella’s family. But if you can’t be happy for us, maybe it’s best you go.”

A tension-filled silence takes hold for a moment. Renee’s eyes flick over each of you—lingering on you, with the ring on your finger and the subtle but elegant engagement band that Charlie gave you. There’s bitterness in her gaze, but you also sense her pain. She scoffs softly, turning away. “Fine,” she mutters. “I’ll go. I’m sure the Cullens can give Charlie everything I never could. Congratulations.”

“Mom,” Bella tries one more time, a tremor in her voice. “Please don’t be like this.”

Renee snatches her jacket from the back of a chair. “I’m heading back to the motel, and I’ll be on the first flight out in the morning.” She strides out, the front door slamming behind her. The echo of it reverberates through the house, leaving the three of you standing in silence. Outside, rain begins to patter against the windows, a soft drumming that underscores the hollow ache left behind.

Charlie exhales, rubbing a hand over his face. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, looking at you. “She didn’t have to speak to you that way.”

Bella’s eyes brim with frustration and sorrow. “If I’d known she was going to act like that, I wouldn’t have—” She cuts off, sighing deeply. “I’m sorry too. This was supposed to be a happy time.”

You let out a soft breath and wave your hand in dismissal, stepping forward to take each of their hands. “Don’t apologize. You wanted to include her because you care—and it was the right thing to do. It’s not your fault she decided to be upset instead of supportive.”

Bella’s lips tremble into a small, thankful smile. “Thanks for understanding,” she says, voice hushed.

Charlie squeezes your hand, gratitude shining in his eyes. “You could have fought back. She was practically begging for an argument.”

You shrug gently. “I won’t let her anger spoil tomorrow for us.” You pause, voice gentle but firm. “We love each other. Bella’s on our side. We have our family—Cullen and Swan both. That’s enough for me.” A wistful look crosses Charlie’s face, but he nods. He pulls you into an embrace, resting his chin atop your head. Bella steps closer, joining in—no words needed as the three of you stand together, finding warmth in each other’s presence. In twenty-four hours, you’ll be at the altar with Charlie, Bella by your side, and the Cullens in attendance—ready to begin a life built on love, acceptance, and hope. If Renee can’t be part of it…that’s her choice to bear.

[shelbgrey]

Quiet in the Library (Emmett Cullen)

Paring: Emmett Cullen x Reader

Summary: fuck around and find out

Warrings: smut, very little plot, fingering, public sex, unprotected sex, rough-ish sex, fucking against a bookshelf, ditching school, Emmett muffling her moans with his hand, poor Edward has to read their thoughts, not edited.

MasterList ML2

In y/n's opinion, study hall was a waste of time when you were a senior. It was an even bigger waste of time for a vampire. If Emmett was with her it wasn't that big of a waste. Her and Emmett were taking advantage of the empty library. Y/n was trying to study for her biology final- Emmett really didn't have to study at this point, being a vampire who's been through centuries of schooling.

She was trying to concentrate, leaning back in her chair with her legs propped on his lap and her bio textbook in her lap. Emmett's strong fingers lightly brushed up and down her leg, he smiled softly to himself as he listened to the peaceful sounds of her flipping through pages, just enjoying her presence. Every so often, he would glance over at her, watching her study. After a few minutes of this, he finally spoke up.

“I'm bored” he admitted with a sigh, leaning forward slightly in his chair. His gold eyes sparkled with mischief as he looked at her.

“Well, find a way to entertain yourself because I have a biology test to study for” y/n said, not looking up from her book.

He pouted playfully, his fingers squeezing her leg gently. “Come on, babe. I'm bored of sitting here doing nothing while you study,” He trailed off, his eyes glancing down to her legs resting on his lap. An idea sparked in his mind. “I have an idea”

“Mhm” She mumbled, not really registering what he said because of the concentration that was being held in her textbook.

He watched her for a moment longer before acting on his thought. Slowly, he began to trail his fingers up her leg, starting at her ankle and moving towards her knee. He was testing the waters to see if his touches would distract her from her studying. His vampire abilities allowed him to move his fingers slowly and gently up her leg, hoping she was too focused on biology to notice. “Just let me” He trailed off softly.

“Emmett…” y/n warned.

His gold eyes snapped up to meet her eyes, continuing his slow touches, moving his fingers higher up her thigh. He was trying to be innocent, testing her patience. “what?” He responded softly, innocent eyes meeting hers again.

“You know what” she glanced up at him then back down at her book.

A playful smirk tugged at his lips as he saw her glance up briefly before returning to your book. He took that as a sign that she was still determined to stay focused on studying. His fingers reached mid-thigh now, moving deliberately slow. “Know what what?” He asked softly, his touch intentionally distracting.

Y/n rolled her eyes making his smirk widened. He loved when she was focused like this. Her eyebrows furrowed slightly when she concentrated, her teeth gently nibbling on her bottom lip. He continued his touches, moving his fingers higher up her inner thigh slowly, testing her self-control. His fingers reached the hem of her skirt now. He paused for a moment, he knew she was still trying to ignore him. When she didn't push his hand away or look up from her book, he took that as encouragement. Slowly, he slid his hand under her skirt, making her breath hitch. “Just gonna” He whispered softly.

“Em”

His cock hardened instantly at the way she breathed his name. He ignored her warning tone, taking it as a green light instead. His fingers hooked under her panties and slowly pulled them aside. “Shh, I got you” He whispered darkly, pressing a finger against her warm center.

Y/n grab his wrist. “We are in the school library”

He chuckled softly, his finger moving in gentle circles against her core, making small noises form in her throat. He knew the risk. The thrill of potentially getting caught only added to his excitement. “Mmm, and your point is?” He teased. Emmett pressed a second finger inside her slowly, making her bit down on her lip. She fought to suppress any noises as the grip she had on his wrist tightened.

Emmett gave her his shit-eating grin, loving how she gripped his wrist but didn't push him away. He continued his slow movements, fingers sliding in and out rhythmically. His thumb found her clit, applying pressure while continuing to distract her from studying. “You're supposed to be learning about cell mitosis”

“Fuck you” y/n hufted, looking around to make sure they were still alone.

He laughed softly, pressing his fingers deeper inside her, making her bite her lip. He knew she'd keep a look out, ensuring no one was near. The library was empty, and he took advantage of that. He curled his fingers upwards, pressing against her most sensitive spot.

“Okay, okay,” y/n said softly and breathlessly, trying to suppress an orgasm - she was too weak when it came to him. She gripped his wrist again, sitting up straight in her chair. “just not in the open like this”

He smirked, his fingers still moving inside her but slowing down slightly. He understood her request. He wanted to keep going but not risk getting caught. Suddenly, he had an idea. He pulled his fingers out abruptly, making y/n whimper softly. He stood up quickly. “Come on”

He grabbed y/n’s hand and pulled her up from her chair swiftly. He led her towards the dark corner of the library where the old encyclopedias were stored. He pushed her against the bookshelf gently but firmly, his lips finding hers in a deep kiss before she could protest. Y/n moaned softly against his lips, her fingers carding through his hair. The shelves dug into her back as she hooked her leg over his hip, pressing her bare thigh against the roughness of his jeans.

He growled softly into her mouth, pressing his hardness against her clothed core. His hands gripped her ass, lifting her up slightly so she could wrap both legs around his hips. He pressed her harder against the bookshelf, grinding his crotch against her center through his jeans and her skirt.

Y/n pulled away, catching her breath. “We could get caught”

“And?” Emmett smirked, nipping at her bottom lip before tracing kisses down her neck. His muscular frame completely covered y/n’s, trapping her against the bookshelf, but also shielding her if anyone walked in. One of his hands slid around to grip her thigh while the other pulled her skirt up higher. “don't make a sound and we won't get caught”

Emmett unbuckled his belt with one hand, his other hand pulling her panties aside. He lifted her higher, positioning himself at her entrance. With a swift thrust, he pushed inside her, filling her completely. He began to move slowly, silently fucking her. Y/n gasps silently against his shoulder, biting down on it to try to muffle the noises.

He suppressed a groan, his hand moving from her thigh to cover her mouth gently as he picked up the pace. The bookshelf creaked softly with each thrust. He was being quiet but dominant - deep strokes designed to hit that spot without making too much noise. “Shh” Emmett breathed against her ear.

Y/n’s eyes fluttered closed as her head fell back against the bookshelf. She dug her nails into his back as she moaned softly against his hand.

He bit his lip to suppress a groan at the sensation of her nails digging into his back and the soft moans against his hand. He thrust deeper into her. “Fuck,” He whispered under his breath. “You feel so damn good”

Y/n gripped his wrist, whining against his hand. Her thighs squeezed tighter around his waist as the pleasure started building up more intensely. She tried to focus every scene she owed on him - her brain was fuzzy and could only register his name. Then there was that small voice in the back of her head, praying to God no one walked into the library.

Emmett watched her face carefully, his hips snapping upwards sharply as his palm continued to muff any small noises she made. He was careful but rough, knowing that spot that would make her eyes roll back without making the shelf too noisy.

Suddenly, he felt her inner walls clamping around him tightly. He knew she was close. He pressed his face into her neck, breathing heavily, and picked up the pace, fucking you harder but silently against the bookshelf. His balls tightened-up. “Fuck, I'm close”

Y/n quickly nodded, unable to speak.

after one final thrust y/n reached the edge, letting all her nerves relax as her vision became stary and blurred, her legs tightened around his hips and her moans were suppressed by his hand, Emmett watched her eyes roll back for the immense pleasure while her head fell back against the bookshelf. Her orgasm washed over her, loud moans and pants were coming out from her mouth.

Emmett's golden eyes faded to black at y/n's muffled screams and the feeling of her pussy pulsing around him - it broke his control. He buried himself deep inside her as he came hard, filling her up with his hot release. The bookshelf shook violently with his final thrusts.

Emmett stayed buried deep inside her for a moment, his hand still covering her mouth as he caught his breath, feeling her pussy fluttering around him with aftershocks. He slowly removed his hand from her mouth, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips as he thrusted once slowly, making her gasp softly against his lips, gripping the hair at the neap of his neck.

Emmett grinned against y/n’s lips, nuzzling into her neck. “God, I just fell in love with you all over again” He murmured softly, holding her close as he buried his face in her neck, inhaling her scent deeply as his hands roamed over her body possessively.

Y/n smiled lazily against his lips, wrapping her arms around his neck. Emmett rested his forehead against hers, y/n panting heavily. He slowly pulled out of her, making sure to keep his cock covered as he tucked himself back into his jeans. He adjusted her skirt back into place gently, a satisfied smirk on his face.

Emmett watched y/n's head fall back against the shelf, admiring the way her hair was messed up and her face was flushed. He leaned in and kissed her neck gently, nipping at her skin possessively. He pulled back and draped his jacket over your shoulders, making sure you both looked presentable. “You okay, Babe?”

“Yeah, I'm great” y/n said softly, kissing him.

He smiled and deepened the kiss briefly before pulling back. He adjusted his jacket around her, inhaling the scent of her perfume mixed with his cologne. He took y/n's hand and intertwined their fingers, pulling her out of the hidden shelves of the library.

Once they were both back in the main area of they library, he shot y/n a smug wink. He kept his arm securely around her waist as he pressed a tender kiss to her temple. “You sure you can still walk?” He whispered playfully and softly so no other students could hear as they walked down the hallway.

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. “yes, I'm fine”

“Then I didn't do my job properly” Emmett smirked, making y/n give him a playful side eye as they walked to their lockers.

Emmett chuckled and pulled her into him, giving her a quick peck on the lips before releasing her so she could get to her locker. He leaned against the locker next to her, his eyes never leaving her body.

Then Edward came by, his locker was next y/n’s. The poor guy just wanted his math book but instead gets ambushed with his brother and his best friend's filthy minds. He peakes from behind his locker door, rolling his eyes at Emmett. “The library? Really?”

Emmett laughed, not even trying to hide his amusement. He punched Edward's arm playfully. “What? It was quiet there. Good for concentration” He winked at Edward then looked back at his girl. He noticed the slight blush that crept up her neck and smirked, knowing he was the cause of it. He leaned in closer to her, his voice low so only she could hear. “You wanna ditch?” He asked, his breath hot against her ear.

“You're really pushing it today” y/n responded, trying not to smile.

Emmett's smug smile grew wider. He pressed a quick kiss beneath her ear, his hands squeezing her hips possessively. “I know, but I'm horny as fuck for you,” He whispered darkly, pressing his growing hardness against her hip. “So, ditch with me? Go to my place?”

She finally gave in, giving him a smirk. “alright”

Emmett pressed another kiss to y/n’s neck, suppressing a growl of desire. Turning to Edward, he called out in a normal voice, “Eddie, we're ditching. Cover for us if anyone asks” Edward rolled his eyes but nodded.

Emmett grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the school, his jeep parked nearby. He opened the passenger door for her before getting into the driver's seat. “Buckle up baby” He winked as he started the car.

“I'm starting to think your a bad influence on me” y/n teased.

He laughed, a deep rumble that filled the car. He reached over and squeezed her thigh possessively. “Baby, I'm the best kind of bad influence” He winked at her as he pulled out of the parking lot, speeding slightly to get to his place faster.

[sl33paholics]

Could you write smut of Alucard from Castlevania. Maybe light praise kink and telling the reader how well she's taking him. Definitely have Alucard eat her out and grinding against the mattress while giving head.

You taste incredible

Alucard x fem!reader

Warning(s): smut (eating out), kinks involved (praise kink)

"Just like that, my dear, you're taking me so well."

The long white blonde hair man would say. With a pillow that was placed under your hips, Alucard tilts your pelvis so your feet are resting comfortably on his shoulder blades. Alucard gently pushes up on your abdomen, helping himself expose the clitoris from underneath the clitoral hood. Your legs tighten around him as he lowers himself to kiss down your thigh and slowly inch your knees higher up to make sure the friction is right. Alucard works in silence for a while, then breaks into a grin when he hears you moan. His tongue traces the outer edge of your thighs, before finding your clit again and circling it. You gasp at the jolting sensation.

Alucard is gentle with everything he does. From when you first meet him. From when you first touch his bare skin as you walk around. From when you first kiss. The man's hands move smoothly and easily, as though they've done this before and he knows exactly what to do. The vampire prince wanted to award his princess for being an amazing woman with a fantastic body. Alucard wasn't very good at giving gifts, but he did want to make you happy. So he decided he could show you how much he loved you. Not just through a physical relationship, but by showing the love in your eyes every time you look at him.

You run one of your hands through his hair, feeling the silky strands against your palm. A small groan escapes your lips, and you feel yourself getting wetter with desire.

"Do you like that?" Alucard asks in between nips on your inner thigh, his intoxicating gaze looking up at you as he watched your face contort into a blissful expression, quickly nodding as he went back to work. "You're such a treasure, my love."

Your body tingles all over, goosebumps erupting all over your skin as you let out a low moan and Alucard squeezing your legs tighter, you cohuld feel his fingers work wonders on your swollen clit. Throwing your head back and letting out a loud groan, "You're doing so good, baby, I know you can pull through." You bite your lip when Alucard removes his finger from your clit, giving it gentle kisses. His breath is hot against your skin as he moves back to sucking on your clit, your moans turning louder as Alucard continues to massage your pussy. You writhe under him, "Who’s my beautiful girl?"

"M...m...me~" You moan and clutch onto the bedsheets as you watch Alucard continuing to work on you, his tongue flicking across the tip of your clit as he sucks gently. He doesn't miss a beat. It feels like you're losing your mind. Alucard was driving you crazy with pleasure. All you could think about were his fingertips moving inside of you, and the way he sucked your clit like he owned it, even when he knew it would get hard. It felt too good not to enjoy. You needed more. More stimulation. You needed him.

The rough movements you felt against yourself made you slowly come back to reality, your cloudy thoughts fading away until you realized your fiancé grinding against the bed, his eyes glazed with lust. It was only reasonable for him to pleasure himself while doing the same to his darling.

You squeal and try to sit up straight, pushing away his head, your pussy now drenched and a throbbing mess. You watched as Alucard's pupils dilate, he watches you with hungry eyes, the muscles in his jaw clenching, and the bulge in his boxers making you squirm. It looked like Alucard was ready to explode, but he couldn't restrain himself for any longer.

He moved in front of you, leaning down to capture your mouth in a heated kiss. You kissed him back, wrapping your arms around his neck as your hands caress his shoulders. This was it. This was it all you've been waiting for. You both finally had your moment after months of not being able to. "Mmh, Alucard, please… please…"

Alucard didn't even need to position yourself on the bed. Your pussy soaked and exposed, legs high up and bent, an exhausted expression on your face was all he needed.

"Take it for me, I know you can. I'm going to make sure everyone knows you're mine~"

[yeonmuse]

— Bloodlust 18+

IN WHICH, you’re stuck with him, following his rules, obeying every order all because your father had made a binding vow to strengthen your bloodline.

( pairing) - vampire!sunghoon x f!r 2.8kwc + smut. not proofread!! 3rd pov Contains!! Mentions of blood/sexual themes/asshole sunghoon [reqs are open] ᝰ.ᐟ 𝓁ibrary 🪷

Req from anon: “hi can you please do a vampire sunghoon x reader smut ive been reading all of your rockstar series and i can’t wait for you to finish it”

🔖 @jwonistic @bubblytaetae @pkjay @planetmarlowe @dreeki @butterflywonz @lillotus17 @squiishymeow @river-demon-slayer @jiamini @sol3chu @right-person-wrong-time

**Jake and Heeseungs parts can be found in my library **

It went without saying that you absolutely hated Park Sunghoon, since the moment you’d arrived at his estate he hadn't shown the slightest ounce of hospitality to you. He was cold, demanding, self centered and an absolute asshole.

Of course you are forced to put up with him nonetheless, having been given to him by your father under the agreement of some sort of pact he had made with the Park Bloodline. You’d be prompted to give both your family and the park family an heir, forever binding your bloodlines and ending the decade long feud between your ancestors and the parks.

Though just because you were forced into such an agreement didn’t mean you had to make it easy, you had made every day for Sunghoon hell as well, always talking back, flirting with his friends when they’d visit, you made the simplest of conversation with him an argument and it aggravated him to the highest degree.

Today would seem to be the only day of peace that you’d be getting, being told Sunghoon would be away on business for a while, You found yourself roaming the empty library you had now become quite familiar with. The warmth of the fireplace engulfed your body, and you let out a content sigh upon finally having gotten some peace and quiet. Fingers dusting over the old outdated novels, you scanned through most of them until finding one that caught your eye. A soft hum spills from your lips as you stretch out your arms to grasp a book on a higher shelf, jumping back once you feel two arms wrap around your waist from behind.

“Not quite tall enough to get it yourself hm?” The familiar tone was a dead give away that it was none other than Park Sunghoon.

“Get lost, I'm trying to read, I was told you wouldn’t be here.” Rolling your eyes you remove his arms from your waist as you continue to reach for your chosen book.

“Seems to me you’re rather struggling to get the book more so than you are reading one.” As if it took no effort he reaches for the book you had been eyeing for mere minutes now and raises it into the air.

“Tell me little one, are you interested in such a book?” Leaning down he made sure that his autumn colored orbs stared directly into yours all while you shot him an annoyed glare, seemingly struggling to retrieve the book from him.

“Oh, go on little bunny, maybe if you jump a little higher you’ll get it.” He found it amusing watching you struggle, since the moment you had moved in with him he made it his mission to get under your skin just as you did to him.

“I swear to god, do you ever get tired of hearing yourself talk.” Your frustration had only grown the more he opened his mouth.

“No, but I do get tired of hearing you, little rabbit.”

‘Bunny’ ‘little rabbit’ two nicknames he has used frequently since you’d moved into his estate. That was how he viewed you, a helpless rabbit for him to prey upon whenever he desired, though when you first arrived he hadn’t expected a little thing like you to give him as much trouble as you had.

“It’d make that pretty face of yours even more desirable if you’d learned to keep quiet.” Finally he brought the book down and handed it to you only for him to grab your hand and pull you into his chest the moment you reached for it.

“You’re always so sweet and coquettish when it comes to Jaeyun or Jongseong, yet you love to make it difficult for me?” His thumb gently brushes over your wrists as he stares down at them, he could smell the blood running through your veins, and the beating of your heart didn’t go unnoticed by him either.

“Wait-” before you could even protest Sunghoon had already had you pressed against the shelf behind you, his leg locked in place between your thighs to keep you from moving. His thumb immediately pressed into your wrist, silencing you, making you yelp as his nails pierced your skin.

“From now on only speak when I tell you sweetheart, I’m sick of your mouth.” His eyes pierced into yours in a way that made you fall silent almost immediately. You hated it, you hated him, even more you hated your father for having made the agreement to give you up so easily. You also hated that the moment he gave you that command you were forced to comply.

“I told your father I’d be polite, that I'd wait until you were compliant and willingly giving yourself to me, but all you’ve done is act like a brat.” He chuckles and grabs your face, forcing you to stare into his eyes, a hunger seemingly lingering in them, a look you hadn’t realized until now.

“sweet little human, I could break you in far more ways than you know. Yet you still know how to pull strings until I’m singing to your tune.” He brought your lips to his wrist, and you watched as his tongue escaped past his lips and dusted across your skin sending a shiver up your spine.

“You’re so quiet now hm? Haven’t heard that pretty mouth speak a word.”

“Fuck off.” He chuckles before his lips meet your skin again, this time sucking at the bare flesh of your wrists as he presses his knee against you, a grin cutting into his lips as he hears a moan spill past your lips mere sections after you had just cursed him.

He eyed your every move as he slid his tongue across your skin, he found himself very much satisfied as he sensed a rise in the heat of your body. As your eyes met his and you spotted that familiar cocky smirk on his lips, part of you wanted to pull away from him, to tell him off. To not give him the satisfaction of knowing he had you feeling vulnerable to say the least. Though there was no fooling him he could tell you were struggling to pull upsets together, that you were failing at your attempt to fight against him. Though he also knew you were still annoyed with him, and that would make it all the more enjoyable having you crying and begging for him to make a mess of you.

“I’ll show you the proper use of that pretty mouth you got, I’ll teach you when and when not to speak.” He forces you down to your knees, holding your face in his hands to keep your mouth open. He absolutely loved the way you looked at him as if you wanted to destroy him, like you were completely pissed at him. His thumb brushes over your lip as he stares into your eyes and he leans in mere inches away from your face.

“Go on sweetheart tell me how much you hate me yeah?” Before you could manage even one word he yanks your head back by your hair and shoves his fingers into your mouth earning a frustrated moan from you.

“Let’s prepare you, yeah?” He watched as you almost instantaneously fell into your role and he couldn’t help but find it amusing.

“Already making good use of that mouth, look at you.” His eyes were locked in place, watching the way your tongue swirled and danced around his fingers. It gave him all the more reason to stuff your mouth full of him. He wastes no time undoing his belt and shoving his pants to the floor, his boxers not too far behind.

The moment he slid the tip of his cock between your lips a groan spilled past his lips. He was ecstatic. The feeling of your lips around him making him eager to explore the rest of you. He loved the way your sweet eyes gazed into his like you hated him, even though your actions said otherwise.

“Fuck,is this all I have to do to shut you up? Fuvk this pretty face?” He growls, his head falling back as he takes in the feeling of your mouth around him. Grinding his hips against your face. You took his thrusts so easily, eyes trained on him above you as you began to suck, one hand on his thigh to keep yourself still and the other on the floor beneath you. Falling into the rhythm was surprisingly easy and felt very fucking natural with him.

While Sunghoonseemed to be lost in the sensation of your sweet mouth.You on the other hand, you were a moaning mess, fingers digging into his thigh as he fists your hair and fucks your throat. The slurping and gagging noises that spilled past your lips were enough to make him cum right then and there, but he didn’t, he just kept fucking your pretty lips as if he were trying to permanently shut you up.

“Should have thought of this before you got so mouthy” Following his words Sunghoon forces the rest of his dick down your throat earning a cry from you as you feel the head of his cock excessively abuse it. He kept mercilessly fucking your mouth, muffling every moan that threatened to escape your lips. You simply whimpered pathetically, clawing at his thigh, clenching around nothing, feeling so pathetic at the fact that this had actually been turning you on. Your desperation pulled a grunt from him, making him yank your hair harder forcing a cry from your mouth which was swallowed up by his cock.

“Fuck”

Without any warning he forces himself to reach the back of your throat as he finishes in your mouth. Shooting his load into the depths of your throat, and not giving you any time to breath before he has to propped up against the bookshelf.

“Still hate me baby hm? Still angry at me?” Before you could manage even one word his lips wrapped around your lips and he began to suck at your clit. This earned a frustrated moan from you, when he treated your body in such ways there was no way you’d let out any words that were remotely coherent.

“I’m asking you a question, let me hear it.” His tongue began to lap at your folds like he was hungry for it. his nails digging into your thighs with every whine or moan of pleasure that spilled from your lips. It made him hungrier for it, hungrier to hear you crying and begging beneath him. Usually he was content with just annoying you but right now he wanted to break you.

When he was met with continued silence he removed his lips from your soaked cunt to kiss along your thighs. You became very aware of his fangs as they grazed the skin of your inner thighs earning a whimper on your part. A whimper that didn’t go unnoticed by Sunghoon, tempting him to do it again.

“Oh? Does that turn you on? You're so pathetic, all it takes is my cock down your throat and tongue deep in your pretty little cunt for me to get you compliant.” He seemed to call you out on everything, everything you tried to hide or deny he knew that’s what made him so frustrating. His eyes remained trained on your face as he continued to tease your body with his fangs. At some point he even went as far as teasing himself by piercing your skin and licking the blood that spilled between your thighs.

“Mmm, a sweet taste to match the scent.” As you watched the way his tongue lapped at your blood you couldn't help but want him to take more from you, to hear more satisfied groans as he drank from your body.

As his eyes remained focused on your face he immediately dug his sharp teeth into your thighs, a satisfied moan spilling past his lips at the taste. Your taste was addicting and it was now clear to him why the others always had such a rough time being around you. He watched the way your eyes rolled back as you pulled his hair, the wetness that gushed from your thighs all while your heart beat began to speed up at the painful pleasure. Once he had finally taken enough blood to satisfy his thirst he moved back between your thighs to once again hear the lovely Melodie’s that would spill from your lips.

The way he worked his tongue was godly and it went without saying that no matter how much you disliked him at times, with a tongue like his you could easily be put in your place.

“Fuck, Stop talking and just fuck me.” His nails pressed into your thigh, a mere warning for you to fix your attitude.

“Beg for it then sweetheart, if you want me so badly.” He forced his fingers past your folds and uses them to stretch you out, watching the way your jaw clenched in annoyance as you tried to force back a moan

“Please, please Hoon it hurts, I need more.”

"Yes, say that again..beg. My pretty little human, tell me what you’d like." He loved that you didn’t shy away from begging for it. You were his, his perfect little slut, his precious little human and he’d ruin you and watch you crumble in his arms.

“please.” Your fingers coiled within his dark locks and he watched as your eyes gazed down at him full of desperation.

“I’ll train you well enough, you’ll be able to take me any time and anywhere I please.”

“Fuck, just shut- u” before you could even finish you felt him push past your entrance stretching you out until he fully bottomed out inside you. Your tightness earned a low growl from him as he pushed so deep you could have sworn you felt him hit the top of your stomach

“Go on finish your sentence sweetheart” He continued to jerk his hips up into you knowing that if he kept at it you wouldn’t be able to say a word. He found pure amusement in watching the blissed out look on your face with every little thrust inside you.

“So pathetic, the moment you get stuffed like a pretty little cocksleeve you immediately go mute.” A chuckle spilled past his lips and he spread your legs wider and pushed your thighs back against your chest. Your moans were evident enough that whatever pain you felt if any had gone away. He wasted no time fucking into you, rough and feverish thrusts from the very beginning. Thrusts that caused your eyes to roll to the back of your head so hard you saw stars.

Your nails clawing at the shelf behind you and your mouth fell open, lines of saliva dripping down your chin as gargled moans spilled past your lips.

“H-Hoon.” The sound of his name spilling from your lips was like heaven. He immediately leans down to take your nipple between his lips while his other hand fondles your breasts. The pleasure had been overwhelming your bodies in ways you hadn’t thought to be possible. From the flicking of his tongue against your breasts every time he thrusted in to you feeling like the more he fucked the deeper into your stomach his cock seemed to push.

“Look at you pretty girl, you hate me so much yet here you are taking my cock like a desperate fiend.” Your thoughts had been so cloudy that you could barely even make out anything he had been talking to you about.

“Such a pretty little whore gonna cum all over my cock after complaining all this time about how much she hates me.” He immediately rested one hand on your waist while resting the other on your stomach and pushing down. He wanted to feel just how far his cock could go inside your little frame. This action was all it took to push you over the edge, the moment he pushed down upon your stomach your legs shook and it was a glorious sight for Sunghoon to see you squirt upon the impact of his hand. Your legs shook violently as his thrusts grew in speed and the low growls that spilled from his mouth made it all more easy for you to unravel right then and there, your cum spilling out onto his cock along with the desk in mere seconds. Subghoon wasnt too far behind as the fucked out look on your face and the way your tight cunt clenched around him was all he needed for him to spill his load into you.

He took pride in watching you struggle to catch your breath.

“Still hate me sweetheart?”

“Absolutely.”

“Good thing I have forever to fuck it out of you then.”

[lefteagleblizzard]

𝔖𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔳𝔢𝔡 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔦𝔪 Remmick x male reader

Summary: There’s nothing he craves more than the way you fall apart for him after a feast, all dripping in blood and desperate for his cock fangs inside of you.

Tags: Remmick teaching a bratty reader to be patient. Mean Remmick. Vampire x vampire. Vampire sex. Monster fucking. Blood drinking. Blood kink. Blood play. Spit and drool drinking. Possessive Remmick. Power imbalance. Corruption. Top Remmick. Bottom male reader. Cockwarming. Riding. Anal sex. Breeding kink. Overstimulation.

ℳ𝒶𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

Words count: 4000

The wet drag of Remmick’s tongue along your neck had an hungry pace to it. His mouth suctioned onto the curve just under your jaw, where the pulse would be (if you still had one) and he lapped at the blood there which spilled from the poor fucking saps who thought your shaking voice and desperate gasps meant you needed saving.

Now you were straddling him on the ruined bed of the place, the sheets soaked red, body bare from the waist down due to your pants and briefs torn clean through by his claws the moment the killing was done. His cock sat deep inside you, big and unmoving, holding you open while he kept you still with a hand low on your back.

He murmured low against your neck, not in words but vibrations that rumbled through his chest into yours, tongue flicking higher, tracing the arterial path up toward your ear before detouring again to your collarbone where blood was clotted dark into your ruined shirt.

The fabric had soaked so deep that when he bit and tore it, the fibers ripped wet and red. His mouth pressed to your skin with an audible slurp, the noise dragged from his throat like satisfaction and cruelty wound tight.

That tongue licked the mess upward, painting clean stripes along your clavicle, tasting the metal-rich smear as it clung in streaks across your upper chest. You arched into him when he licked higher again, toward the curve of your cheekbone and it twitched under the pressure from unbearable sensitivity, saliva cool and slick compared to the drying gore.

“Ye did good, love,” he murmured, voice thick with that lilt and somethin’ darker than fondness. “Lured ’em in like lambs t’slaughter. Makes me wonder now… how many poor bastards ye sweet-talked like that ‘fore I sank me teeth in ye?” His grin was wide, mouth red with someone else’s death, teeth sharp and not matching his gentle tone.

The bloodstained mattress underneath you two was damp, the white sheets long since saturated to that dark, dirty crimson. The air reeked of heat and copper, but it didn’t bother either of you.

His cock inside you throbbed, stretching you around the base where you’d sunk down over it and stayed there for so long you couldn’t even tell how long it had been. Your thighs trembled from the stretch and pressure of it, guts rearranged to accommodate that thick girth. It curved up so deep you could feel every twitch of it brushing that spot inside you with maddening accuracy, yet you couldn’t move.

That arm around your waist kept you flush to his chest, the other hand splayed on your back, claws lazily drawing half-moon arcs where your spine tensed beneath. He never dug them in all the way, the tips pressing into your skin with enough promise to make your breath stutter every time he adjusted his grip.

A silent threat to stay still.

Your hips tried to buck without permission, desperate to do something, ride him even a little, but the pressure around your waist tightened instantly, ribs aching.

“Mm-mm,” he purred, tongue flicking against the sticky patch of shirt still clinging to your left shoulder. It tore away under his mouth, teeth sinking shallowly, a nip of warning. “Don’t wriggle now… not yet.”

But you couldn’t help it. His cock stretched wide with no relief, your rim sore around the base but you still wanted more. You needed friction, movement, instead he left you impaled and trembling, the ache turning into that unbearable sweet-pain that made your guts twist in impatience.

His cock is throbbing and you can’t move to fuck it.

A muffled whimper stuttered from your throat that you tried to eradicate by biting your lip but the sound still escaped, vibrating against his forehead where he rested it against your collarbone.

You nuzzled your face faintly against his, the motion rubbing your face against his jaw, leaving smears of blood across his skin as he tilted your head back with a clawed grip around your jaw.

Your mouth fell open when he flexed inside you again, tensing his hips up enough that his cock shifted a centimeter deeper. Shoulders jerking and that iron grip around your waist tightened.

The moan that came from your parted fangs was swallowed by his mouth as he turned your head and kissed you deep with blood still wet on his tongue. Metal and salt invaded your mouth as his tongue curled possessively inside, claiming even that.

He broke the kiss with a wet pop, licked your lips clean with that tongue of his and leaned back enough to look down where your body still sat impaled on his, rim stretched tight around the base of his cock and he bit down on your nipple, hard.

Your whole body jerked as much as you could within the cage of his arm, a sharp cry ripped from your throat and his cock twitched hard inside you, knocking against something that made stars bloom behind your eyelids.

He licked again, teeth still grazing the flesh he’d bitten, then released with a wet pop, tongue dragging with him in a long, wet parting stroke to then lift one claw to his own mouth with theatrical precision.

A blood-slicked finger glistening to the joint was held in front of his snarling lips painted in crimson as he shushed you mockingly. His whole face wet and shining with your victims’ blood, dripping lazily from the corner of his mouth, stringing downward and breaking over the edge of his chin in a slow thread that disappeared somewhere between your bodies where you were joined so deep you could barely even breathe.

You clenched around him reflexively, a tightening around the thickness buried inside you that was all desperation, begging and frustration made into a silent plea, pressing down harder against his cock stuffed into your hole belonging to an arrogant man who knew he didn’t have to thrust to ruin you.

Remmick didn’t give you an inch.

When you leaned in, trying to nuzzle against him for any heat friction you could drag, his free hand shot up and gripped your jaw tight one-handed, effortlessly halting you mid-motion.

He grinned, fingers digging cruelly into the hinge of your jaw, forcing your head still with so little effort it made your blood run colder. A vicious grin that showed every one of his brutal fangs and he tilted his head to leer at you. “Look at ye,” he crooned, voice thick and syrup-dark, thick with amusement. “Drenched in blood an’ still starvin’ f’r me cock, are ye, pet?”

The voice alone made your breath hitch and your cock twitch helplessly against his abdomen where it was pinned between you, smeared in precum and blood and throbbing hotter by the second. Your whine tried to come out quiet, muffled in the back of your throat, but the moment it passed your fangs it became louder, wetter, more pathetic than you wanted.

Your claws like a true newborn turned just days ago, dug into his shoulders. You pushed and tried to move, a roll of your hips to stimulate the burning fullness, but his arm held fast and his cock stayed rooted inside you, pulsing and frustratingly still.

Wolf-red irises drank you in with obscene glee, every twitch of your lip and shiver of restraint cracking in your bones. Your mouth hung open with drool beginning to trail down from the corner, thick strings of it meeting the sticky drying blood that still painted your chin and neck.

And he wasn’t much better either.

That line of drool down his chin matched yours, though thicker, mingling with crimson. He breathed heavy, slow, but it was ragged at the edges, barely contained, each exhale hot and wet against your skin where his mouth hovered again near your neck. Hot breath blooming against your flesh and trembling with the effort of holding back.

His hand palmed your ass, claws skimming dangerous on the curve of your flesh, pricking dimples that threatened to tear if you moved too fast.

“Still.” He warned, voice guttural now. “Last warnin’, love. Move again and I promise ye won’t like what comes next.”

Those claws that gripped your face were trembling slightly with the restrained glee of a predator about to feast on the writhing desperation of the fledgling vampire he had in his arms and filled to the brim. His thumb sat planted firm against your cheekbone, the rest of those long fingers wrapped across the side of your skull with his talon resting just beneath your eye, glinting dully with the same crimson light as his irises.

Skin parted soundlessly under that clawtip, a hair-thin line splitting along the curve of your cheekbone. It didn’t hurt but the blood welled up instantly, blooming to the surface, beading fat and warm before it spilled, gravity pulling it in a slow, perfect line down the plane of your cheek.

The trail trickled lazy, meandering down your cheek’s slope and mixing mid-journey with the long, sticky thread of drool you’d been leaking since your mouth dropped open in want and Remmick tracked every inch of it with feral hunger in his eyes.

He lunged for the trail, head jerking forward like a beast, mouth opening wide as a hot and broad tongue dragged up the length of your face in one brutal, wet stripe that started at your chin and didn’t stop until he’d licked over the wound.

He groaned as the iron taste hit him and his lips closed around the bleeding cut, sucking for a heartbeat and then pulled back with a messy pop of suction, leaving your face wetter than it had been before, not cleaner.

His chin was now shinier than ever, smeared in blood that wasn’t yours a moment ago, now joined with your new trail like tributaries into a hellmouth. His tongue poked out again to lap at the corner of his own mouth, scarlet eyes never leaving your face.

His bloody-clawed hand that had just carved you open slid down.

First your throat, still vibrating with panting moans and needy choked gasps. Then over your heaving chest, dragging blood and spit down with it. He trailed that same palm over the ridges of your stomach, letting his knuckles brush deliberately against each trembling twitch of your abs.

When he reached your cock, you almost flinched but there was nowhere to flinch to.

Blood-slick fingers curled over your aching, red and painfully engorged shaft with a strength that made your breath stutter into something between a moan and a cry. Your cock throbbed so hard in his grip it almost hurt.

He started jerking you with methodical viciousness, strokes tight and firm, the blood on his palm and precum you’d been leaking making every motion sound indecent.

Using your entire length, bottom to tip and back, grip twisting slightly at the top to make your toes curl. His claws dug lightly into the flesh along the underside of your cock enough to warn, all while lapping at your cheek in long, lazy stripes, licking whatever new trail of blood or spit formed.

Every drag of his hand around your shaft sent sparks behind your eyes. Every squeeze or flick of his thumb over your slit made your thighs twitch and your stomach clench, your hole spasm around the unmoving girth still impaling you with merciless weight.

You felt like you were going to explode from the inside, balls so tight and hot it was like fire pooling in your gut.

His mouth opened against your neck like a gate to hell flung wide and then those thick, jagged weapons of bone bit hard.

The sound it made was sickening and wet, skin tearing as his teeth pierced deep into the thickest part of your throat, right above the curve of your collarbone. Pain blossomed instantly, flaring outward in every direction. You choked, convulsed against him, cried out ragged and cracked the syllables of his name one after the other in a breathless effort as your body jolted with the collision of agony and something so much better.

With the pain came pleasure that rewrote every nerve inside you. You felt your cock swell, twitch violently once, twice, then explode, spurting hard against his abdomen in thick, hot ropes, your whole body shaking as the orgasm overtook you like a collapse.

He grunted against your neck, the sound vibrating directly into the wound he was drinking from, sucking interrupted by the choke of his own sudden moan as you tightened around him with orgasmic force. His grip on your ass became punishing, claws sinking deeper and soon a series of trickles of your own blood ran dripped from the round of your ass where his claws had made shallow, beautiful wounds.

Your whole body had gone tight, breath gone, every limb shaking violently, nails buried in the thick, unruly curls of his hair as you moaned and sobbed into his shoulder.

He didn’t stop drinking for a long, slow moment and when he finally pulled back, tongue dragging over the ruined flesh of your neck to seal it with heat and sin, his chuckle made your chest seize.

“Bitin’ ye was all it took,” he murmured, voice a low growl and thick with smug wonder. “Didn’t think ye could get any sweeter. Proved me wrong, didn’t ye?” His tongue traced a long, slow curve up your neck. “Been holdin’ yerself so sweet on me all night…”

An hand shot back to your jaw, gripping it tight, long claws curved and deadly as they forced your glowing gaze down to meet his burning red stare.

“Show me, pet,” he breathed. “Let me see how bad ye really need me.”

The spell broke, strength that had locked you so effectively evaporated while your trembling fame was cradled in his lap.

The whole bed shrieked when you slammed his bed against the headboard, the ruined blood-stained frame creaking loud beneath the sudden slam of your weight shifting.

His laugh came out ragged and delighted while arching his neck back.

Offering it, fangs in that red smile gleaming in invitation.

Your own fangs tore through his skin in a vicious plunge as you lunged and the taste of his blood hit your tongue, richer than human. You moaned hard, the sound muffled against his throat, mouth sealed over the gash you made as you drank, ecstasy and violence melting into one as you sucked deep, unable to stop, unwilling to care.

Remmick grunted loud, his head jerking back further as you fed to grant your mouth more room and the sound rattled against your teeth.

You clawed down his chest like you were trying to tear him apart. Your talons sliced through the remains of his shirt, shredding fabric like paper and dug deep into the meat of his pectorals. Blood followed your path in twin rivers, painting his abdomen as your claws raked down them, leaving raw grooves from collarbone to navel.

His groan twisted into a sharp snarl and his own unrestrained claws tore down your back, anchoring you to him with red welts that split skin and bled freely.

Your thighs burned from the first brutal lift, hips trembling as you dragged yourself upward along his cock, feeling every vein, every ridge and inch of him peeling from your insides before slamming down.

The ruined mattress buckled under the weight and the rhythm, springs crying with each lift and plunge of your hips as you fucked yourself onto him, soaked with blood and spit and want that could no longer be tamed. Every bounce sent Remmick’s cock slamming into that sweet spot that made your eyes roll and your moans incoherent.

Remmick’s mouth had gone slack, panting and smiling, eyes gleaming wild with pride and possession along hands gripping you hard enough to bruise. “Been beggin’ for it all night, haven’t ye? Time ye showed me what kind of beast ye really are.”

With every muscle in your body you were so ready to prove it to him, blood splashed with each violent grind, the slap of flesh obscene in the blood-warm air of the room.

The pace was relentless, each downward slam of your body sending Remmick’s cock deeper into your guts with a wet, stretching you wide on every stroke, the fat head dragging against your walls with precision now from your own frantic rhythm and you couldn’t stop. Didn’t want to.

When you leaned forward over his chest, it was due to your tongue hungry again for the taste of what you’d done, lapping at his throat where you’d bitten earlier, dragging your tongue along the messy gash.

You licked him clean in long strokes, each pass of your tongue making your cock twitch against his ruined abdomen, smearing fresh precum where you ground down on him with every roll of your hips.

Descending on his chest, tongue trailing red across the muscle, finding the light claw marks you’d carved down his pectorals, hips never stopping their rhythm.

Every plunge down on him punched moans from your throat, muscles clenching with effort. Your body jolted, legs seized and your insides tightened in a violent, suffocating grip around him as your second orgasm crashed through you.

Wailing against him, head thrown back, your hole spasming tight around the base of his cock as your own shaft jerked and sprayed again, cum painting his abdomen, your stomach, the bed in thick white streaks. You didn’t even know how you had anything left, emptied and somehow still overflowing.

Remmick grunted hard against your throat, teeth suddenly sinking into the left side deep as you came, drinking from you again just as you started to go limp with aftershock, already so far gone it blended into the pleasure.

That massive, clawed hand clapped down on your waist with a wet smack and flipped you.

You barely had time to yelp before your back hit the soaked mattress, blood pooling under your spine and he followed you down, sliding his cock out to adjust and then slamming it back inside you with a wet, solid thrust that made the whole bedframe lurch against the wall.

Your moan shattered into pieces inside your injured throat and soon they morphed high-pitched as he began pounding you.

Moving like a beast loosed from its cage, claws gripping your thigh tight and wrenching your leg up high almost over your shoulder, granting himself total access. The new angle let him sink deeper.

The bed shrieked with every thrust.

Your hole was a mess, soaked in your own blood and arousal, stretched wide and twitching but he fucked into it, every inch brutal and heavy, your toes curling from the force of it, mouth hanging open with no sounds left to make.

Down on your chest, he descended with a snarl, fangs bared to leave a dozen little bits, nips and slashes with his teeth and claws, drawing blood in short bursts as he fed from you in greedy flicks of his tongue. He mouthed the blood across your chest, sucking the wounds and lapping at them, coating his mouth again in your flavor as he rutted deeper into you.

Your vision blurred at the combo of tongue dragging blood from you in his greedy mouth and a cock pounding the breath from your lungs.

His rhythm faltered, the growl that tore from his throat was low and guttural. The thrusts of his hips grew shorter and rougher, all that careful control unraveling as he chased the edge. With a bruising grip to your hips, he slammed in deep one last time and stayed buried to the hilt, cock twitching as he came.

A thick rush flooded your insides, painting your walls white with load after load while his whole body tensed above yours, claws digging into your thigh deep, dripping onto the mattress in soft, rapid plinks. His hips jerked through it, still rutting as his cock throbbed violently inside you, pumping you full.

Your body was ruined beneath him. Blood streaking down your chest, your thighs, his chest, the sheets. Every inch of you throbbed, pulsed or trembled. In the dizzy quiet that followed the storm, Remmick didn’t move right away. The swell of his cock still twitched from aftershocks, your insides flooded and stretched, his weight draped over your frame.

He nuzzled your throat, pressing his mouth there, breath slow and damp against the mess of dried blood and fresh bruising he’d left in your now healing flesh. His lips were warm, almost gentle, brushing over the same spot he’d bitten so viciously minutes ago and when he exhaled it was a low, gravel-rich hum.

“Aye… that’s my good thin’,” he breathed, still catching his. “Took me so well. Made such a mess o’ yerself f’r me.”

He kissed your throat, soft and blood-wet.

His hand stayed firm on your thigh, holding it lazily over his hip while the other curled around your waist again, claws grazing but not digging. Now there was no need to hold you down, you couldn’t going anywhere, still full of him, claimed and marked, red inside and out, muscle memory still humming with heat when his cock twitched inside your red and white interiors.

You exhaled shakily, chest rising, hand moving up to brush slowly into his curls and he leaned into it, head pressed to the hollow of your throat like he was listening for a heartbeat and even though yours wasn’t alive in the human sense, he could feel it now in the bond and blood.

You belonged to him.

“Y’know,” he said after a long moment, shifting slightly to nuzzle along your jaw, tongue swiping idly across the blood still drying there, “Saw somethin’ in the lad’s memories before his heart gave out.”

His grin pressed to your neck. You could feel it grow there. You knew the shape of that smile.

“There’s a village,” he murmured, voice lower now, thick with quiet hunger. “Not far off. Took a peek when we drained the last one. A few hours’ ride from here, maybe less if we run. Big enough to keep us fed a while.”

His tongue dragged up the edge of your ear, slow and hot, eyes burning red with pride.

“Ye can pick the next house, if ye like.” He said, almost sweet. “And after we’re done makin’ a mess of ‘em…”

His hips rolled forward to allude his interests and a shaky hiss went past your fangs, your overstimulated hole tightening again reflexively around the half-hard thickness still inside you.

“We’ve got ‘til dawn f’r now, love. Let’s see how many ways I can split ye open by then.”

The blood-slick and hot mouth of his enveloped yours in a messy and red kiss, all of the red liquid mingling on your tongues as he kissed you slow, both of you ready again for more.

[gremlingottoosilly]

Moo business (monster!Konig x CowHybrid!fem!Reader)

Promotion to colonel has its perks. Having your own caretaker with fluffy cow years and a nice pair of...additions is one of them - and Konig is about to enjoy his new rank.

Content warning: Hybrids, Konig is a huge pervert, naive cow hybrid reader, slight dub-con, power imbalance, and inappropriate work behavior, lactation kink. Implied big chested!Reader

Humans have learned to live with monsters. Obviously, having dangerous, much more powerful neighbors in this tiny green planet, didn’t allow humans to actually thrive and succeed – the power dynamics were shifted ever since the first monster decided, that wearing a collar and identification badge doesn’t really go with their style. And humans would be much more suited to wear it. 

Unfortunately, monsters aren’t created equal – while most of them are killing machines with little to no regard to the danger of real life, there are some particularly fragile hybrids with no use in fights or even normal life. House cat hybrid girls, almost no claws and all purring and laying on their backs to let humans and other monsters pet their bellies. Sheep hybrids, all fluff and tiny, rounded horns that would never hurt anyone. Cow hybrids, adorable and silly, no use in the fights except for moral support. 

Which is exactly why König was fucking pissed. 

— G…good evening, sir. I will be your assistant for the day. I mean, every day. As long as you’re having me. 

You smile nervously, munching on your lips. When the only way up the social ladder was working in the army as an…assistant? Moral support? Waving your nurse training like you’d be able to safely secure a monster’s health when he is twice as big as you? 

Being a colonel in the army has its perks – better gear, better paycheck, better chunks of meat that he can bite off the enemies without higher-ups whining about war crimes and rules of war. Having a cute lil’ assistant with fluffy ears and a chest that physically can’t fit into the uniform, forcing you to wear permanent cleavage and just let a bit of chubbiness roll on the tight fabric is also a perk. For a pervert, maybe, but not for König who is already sworn to never deal with anyone who is this sensitive, this soft, and this…adorable. 

He thought he was quite certain in his wishes – if higher-ups really need for him to take a fuck toy, he wanted it to be resilient. Maybe a dog hybrid, maybe a vampire, just weak and hungry enough to overpower with little fights. Not someone like you, who has no idea what she is doing in the army and why her hands are trembling like he is going to devour you alive. Although, looking at the way your chest is swaying every time you flinch…maybe, he can do just that. Teach higher-ups a lesson on why he doesn’t need their handouts. 

— Dismissed. 

He doesn’t even look at you. Honestly, you’re a bit hurt – honestly, you almost want to yell at him or scream or tell all of your higher-ups that the colonel is a huge jerk who clearly doesn’t need a little cow darling to make him coffee and tend to his needs and be a huge moral support because they can’t take another fucked out recruit when the dangerous hybrid is in heat again. You feel like a glorified whore – the one that he doesn’t even want. 

— B…but…

You pout your lips, a billion questions raised in your mind – why is he like this, what is his deal and you should even look at him if he clearly doesn’t want you…and that look on your face, helplessness mixed with a bit of deliciously sweet anger, combined with your soft, doe features…

Colonel has a problem. 

He thought he knew what he wanted – a strong partner, someone resilient and fiery, someone who can take his cock anywhere without whining. Someone who wouldn’t require a lot of attention and softness, someone who knows their place. Now König looks at you, your floppy ears and trembling lips, and his gaze darts lower, his nose getting milk fragrances even under all of those layers of fabric. 

It doesn’t take a genius to know why they sent you. He doesn’t need a secretary, he doesn’t need an assistant and even if he needs help with something, there are always lower ranks ready to do whatever he says. You’re useless to him, on all levels he can imagine – and yet, he can’t find it in him, to truly dismiss you. To hate your trembling lips and obedient stare – no thought behind those pretty eyes of yours. He always thought he wanted someone strong, someone who is hard to break and resilient to any advances. 

He looks at you and, for the first time in forever, has this wild urge to protect. 

— Sir? Is everything alright? 

You tilt your head to the side, that naive stare you has makes his cock twitch in his pants. It was a long time since he had sex with anyone, especially that adorable. Some hybrids look like they are made to be fucked and loved and used in all of those delicious ways – he knows it’s problematic, he knows that having that view on fellow monsters isn’t right for someone as strong as him, but he wants to devour you. Wants to see that pretty eyes wide from desire – he knows you’d feel the urge too, it’s in your blood, to present your soft belly and even softer tits to a larger predator. 

Indulging on you would mean giving up on his attempts of constantly undermining the higher-ups – it would also mean that he would finally receive a partner for the extensive mating seasons that clash with his work and make his skilling rate go up – and not just for the enemies. Private Halseen, you will be missed. Your ass probably wouldn’t. 

— I thought you’d heard me the first time. 

— But I brought coffee.

— They make coffee machines in cows now? 

— Sir! I was just trying to…break the ice? I’m your new operator, or, um, assistant, I have nurse training, and I…

— What are you going to do with an injury? Lick it away? 

— M…my saliva has healing properties, so…

— They really sent me a magic cow, ja? 

— That’s a very…special way to put it, colonel.

You are surprisingly stubborn for someone who isn’t a confident killing machine. You balance the little tray with a cup of coffee – a big one, seems like you did your homework on that one – and he can’t help but imagine your hands gripping something else this tightly. Your body is trembling, your face switches between a sad and a surprised expression as he slowly emerges from his table to get a good look at you. 

You’re a cow hybrid – they are naturally adorable, naturally soft, and naturally made for someone like him to tower over. He is good over 7 foot, even in mostly human form, and his monster height would be almost twice your size – he'd love to take you like this, raw, bully his giant cock into your, no doubt, tight pussy, and make you squeal from the stretch. Maybe, he can help you with milk production – put another hybrid into you, make your belly swell from his cum. Keep you locked away in his room like a perfect little treat, using your soft body as a perfect pillow. 

He can’t help but lick his lips in anticipation – saliva collecting in his mouth as the thinks of all the ways he can use such a pretty secretary. There is no way you don’t know why they sent you here – no way you think that your self-worth is something more than being his obedient pet, beloved toy. König never thought of settling down, the bloodshed is his one and only partner – but he looks at your rounded horns, at your twitching ears and pouty lips – and he thinks about putting his earring right into your floppy ear. lick away all the blood and calm you down as you’d squirm under the pain, soothe your panicking cow brain as he would bully his cock even deeper, claiming you as…

Ah, shit. You’re still here, waiting for his answer – your eyes are shocked and afraid, anticipated a little bit because of course you’re aroused, his pheromones are too overwhelming for a thing like you – you stare at the bulge in his pants, at nis, no doubt, hard cock – and he can almost see gears in your head turning slowly. God, you’re adorable. 

— You forgot the milk. 

— Sergeant Horangi didn’t say anything about milk. 

So, Horangi was the one to set you up. Of course, tiger shifter probably got his hots on you – pretty prey, perfect for every hunter nearby, but, just as a good officer, he let you go to his colonel first. You talk back with a surprisingly fierce tone and König appreciates the way his mask covers up his whole face – you couldn’t see his smile, the way corners of his mouth jerked up at your pout. Continue like this, and the colonel will do more than just smile at your antics. 

— Probably because he knew that our milk is shitty. 

— If…if you need me to bring you something else, I will do it right away, sir. 

— No need, Kuhen. I think you have what I need right here. 

His cock twitches in his pants again – your eyes are locked on his bulge, you slowly push the tray to the table. You’re naive, you’re cute, and he knows that KorTac probably pays you triple for being this adorable and playing dumb like the good girl you are – bastards probably know that if you’d be upfront and pushy, he would just set you away from his office. 

But standing here, munching on your lower lip, your soft, pink tongue disappearing in your mouth only to reaper to lick your lips again, your face not ever betraying the emotions you, no doubt, are feeling – König can smell your arousal, can almost see the way your pussy is glittering with juices flowing right into your soaked panties. They send a lamb – a cow – to his chambers and they know that he would never resist a good hunt. You allow him to cut through the chase, to just pin you to his desk and take what’s his – but anxiety, that stupid fucking worm eating his brain over the tiniest facts, is making him question everything again. He knows he thinks too much, he knows it’s not going to do him any good – still, he wants to be sure that you’re not too dumb to understand his advances. Still, he wants to play a bit more. Delay the moment of sex because his doubt can eat him alive otherwise. 

— Take off your shirt, Schatzen. 

He doesn’t even look at your chest, bouncing from the tight shirt you were wearing – poor buttons holding on for dear life, barely containing your soft flesh – he drinks up your expressions, embarrassment, and poorly hidden curiosity. You saw the job requirements for an operator, saw his profile – high risks, high aggression, can be very, very violent – and you decided that you can take him, for the right pay. 

— You want me to…take off something else, sir?

A smart girl would run the fuck away from him – but you just lock your hands in front of you, not even bothering to cover your chest. God, he wants to be with you forever – just for that little look on your face your nervousness. You’re standing in front of him, only wearing pants and your bra – and you’re afraid that he isn’t going to like what he sees. 

Just for this expression, he might as well push a ring on your finger already. 

— Ja. Bra is next. 

You nod like you expected this. You probably did – for a prey hybrid, you’re surprisingly smart in understanding what he needs. Your bra is lacy and cute, white, with little flat roses printed – surely not something he expected from military personnel, even if your duties are laying in under him, not with your belly in trenches and your cute hands squeezing the trigger. 

Your breasts look even bigger without a bra to keep them close. You place a hand under your chest, feeling a bit awkward with your colonel just standing here, looming over your form. You lick your lips – he cocks his head closer to you. You can hear something shifting under his hood – you don’t know what his face looks like, rumors were opting for either a bunch of tentacles tucked neatly inside of his hood, the head of some mythical animal, or a normal, but disfigured and burned human face. You don’t know which option you prefer – even the files you were reading before choosing this job didn’t give you an answer. There is something stirring inside of you when you’re thinking about tentacles, though. 

— Braves Mädchen…good girl. 

You smile, feeling the knot in your tummy getting even tighter at the praise. You like him – despite his rough exterior and the obvious arousal, you like being liked, wanted, and devoured by a much stronger predator. Not having any supernatural powers, your only survival option in this world is to appease the strongest – and it looks like you just got a really juicy target. 

Suddenly, König grabs your waist and lifts you to his table – documents go flying around and you put a bit more, thinking of how long it would take to put everything back together. He doesn’t care for your concerns – the next thing you know, you are pushed ever further into his table, and the colonel lifts the end of his hood just enough to envelop his mouth on one of your nipples. 

— S…sir! Please, a little warning next time…

He laughs, his hands pressing small, sweet bruises into the curve of your waist. His mouth feels cold at first – then he flicks his tongue at your hardened nipple, and it feels like an oven. You moan you squeak, you squirm under him – all those documents and transferring and half a dozen Suits trying to tell you of how dangerous your work is going to be, how unstable and irritated the colonel is, how he is probably going to shoo you from his office the first two weeks – all of this comes flying right out the window. 

— You already think of the next time, Schatzen? 

König never tastes something as sweet, as silky, and smooth as your breasts. There is something deep, primal, wild in the way he sucks and bites at your nipple – he devours the taste of your skin and it feels like he can come to his pants just from the feeling alone. You’re squirming in his grasp, poor thing, probably aren’t used to sensation – he closes his eyes and allows his monster to take over, to take what he wants from you. 

He shifts to your other breasts, warming and cooling them at the same time. He isn’t an expert in that weird kind of massage, but you don’t need an expert in boob sucking when all of your cow instincts telling you to spread your legs and allow him to put babies in you, to breed like the prey you are, to take care of you outside of this stupid job. You’re terrified that his sharp teeth can draw blood and arouse at the way his tongue clicks at your nipples so perfectly, so naturally, like he was doing it his whole life. 

You moan, whispering little begs and praying to deaf ears. Your hands are going to hig his neck, to just kind put your fingers on his hood and just keep it here, not daring to try and direct the movements of his tongue. All of those days of constant preparing for the worst, long nights of studying the psychology of hunters, of predator hybrids, didn’t leave you much time to milk yourself in the past week – you might just be a hybrid, but it doesn’t release you from the endless burden of constant lactation. 

— S…so embarrassing…please, sir, we need to stop or I will…

— Ja, meine Kuh? Did you want to say something to your colonel? 

— Please, I’m going to…fuck, this is embarrassing…

— Language. 

He closes his teeth on your tender bud, making you moan his name – his callsign – loudly. He grunts from satisfaction, finally tasting sweet milk pouring from his body – might be the only thing that makes cow hybrids useful for someone as strong as him. 

Your milk is sweet, rich, and creamy, and your little cries only make it tastier. He pushes his tongue deeper, swirls it around your hardened bud, waits for you to moan even more – every inch of your being makes him feel weird, protective, like he already put a baby in that soft tummy of yours and made you his. It’s dumb, you aren’t even connected on the official level – but he sucks your milk ever so passionately, forgetting about every mission trouble he had.

Sucking your tits feels like therapy – giving up all of his powers just to kiss you, to bite you, to drink your milk, and softly massage the flesh until your pussy starts to grind against the round corner of his table. Poor thing, he doesn’t even touch you in any way – you’re too precious for this, and he falls too deeply into your eyes and the swell of your chest. 

— Sir! Pl…please, don’t…if you’d stop, I will…

He drinks your milk swiftly, feels the liquid dripping down his chin – always a messy eater, one of the reasons he used the mask to hide his embarrassment. He can’t look at your face, the angle is too far off for this, and it disappoints him – he wants to drink your pretty expressions, wants to know that he is one to make that pretty cow this slutty. Just a few minutes ago he was ready to get your ass off his office – and now he is changing between two of your round breasts, making sure to not waste a drop. 

Fuck, this is far better than any milk the base kitchen can provide. 

He sucks a little bit more, pressing his tongue against your swollen, abused nipples. You whine at the sensation, poor little hybrid isn’t used to his teeth and his mouth – he’d have to make sure to repeat this procedure every other day, if possible, to get you used to direct milking. He’d have to spend weeks spreading your pretty cunt for him, teaching you how to milk his cock and meowl like a good prey hybrid you are – but he didn’t become colonel because he was afraid of challenges. 

He stops sucking with a little pop, final droplets of milk falling to his lips as he licks it, groaning from pleasure. His stubble made the soft skin around your nipples irritated and you tremble when the cold air hits them – you feel fragile, used, your pussy is twitching around nothing, the pulsation forcing you to grind against the corner of his table like a bitch in heat. 

König made you like this – half-naked, trembling, so fucking horny that you can’t even look at him without dropping to your knees, and it almost made you want to run away. He squeezes your tits again, enveloping the soft mounts in his large, rough hands – you whine a little bit, still all too sensitive after this pleasurable torture he created. 

— How do you feel? 

He sounds…weaker now. Almost embarrassed at his little outburst, he picks up your bra and helps you get dressed – you both want more, to check if his table is really as sturdy as it looks, but König has a training session in 30 minutes and you have König’s training session, standing behind his shoulder and watching him yelling at the recruits. It would be hard to get scared at him again, when every time his cold gaze darts to your face, he softens. When you look at him and can only imagine milk dripping down your chin – your milk, no less. 

— I’m…empty. In a good way, I mean. Thank you, sir.

You feel weird when he gently helps you get into your clothes, his fingers are simply too big for the buttons – he presses his head against your shoulder, trying to concentrate, and you awkwardly hug him for stability. He chuckles. 

— My pleasure, Schatzen. 

You stand here, awkwardly – your neck enveloped with a collar, with his name on it, and he can’t pry his eyes away from it. God, he never knew that being a colonel would allow him such a cutie as a bonus. KorTac didn’t seem like an organization that would give away wives so easily, but König isn’t going to complain. 

He just has to make sure to keep you chained to his table, that’s all. 

[the-hidden-pages]

Kinktober Day 1 - 'Love' Bites | Overstimulation - Astarion x Fem!Reader

Love bites | Overstimulation | Impact play

Coming out the gates strong with 3500+ words for this man. It has not been edited, I have work in the morning, I'm going to bed.

Summary: With the promise of taking you to a quiet little piece of nowhere to forget all the madness of the adventure, Astarion pulls out all the stops to ensure you forget everything, except the pleasure he gives you.

Warnings: NSFW, Blood, Vampire Kink, Overstimulation, Crying, Light Choking, Dirty Talk

You and Astarion had always had an arrangement.

To say you bonded quickly with your party would be an understatement - having the tadpole within your mind and surviving the same crash tends to form that immediate trauma bond. But you and the vampire had formed a deeper understanding of each other much sooner than the others.

That night, so early on in your adventure, when you awoke to the man perched over you, fangs bared and your throat exposed for the taking, things simply couldn’t go back to the status quo.

It fogged your mind the entirety of the next day, the proximity, the adrenaline, the pure, undiluted hunger.

You’ve allowed him to feed from you every night since.

You played it off as trust, at first. Trust in him, a want to have him fully strengthened for battle. Nothing but business.

But it didn’t take long for him to understand your underlying motivation, the reason you allowed yourself to feel drained, exhausted, and weak for each battle moving forward, perpetually distracted by the memory of his lips and teeth at your neck. The memory welcomed the fantasies with open arms, fantasies of his hands wandering as he drank, kissing your lips with your own blood on his own, his fangs sinking into your thighs, before wandering higher…

Still, you were never going to force it. 

So, you allowed him to continue to drink, both aware of the growing tension, both refusing to move further.

Until that changed.

When Astarion came to you, offering for you both to find a “little piece of nowhere”, somewhere to “forget all this madness”, you sure as hell weren’t about to decline.

A chance to get him out of your head was exactly what you needed to think clearly.

Night had long since fallen, as you sat pretending to read one of many absurd tomes Gale had collected throughout the journey. A life of adventuring doesn’t make for the most consistent sleep schedule, and as such awaiting for the entire party to call it a night was practically torment as you tried to ignore the growing heat between your legs.

But no amount of pretending to study the Oral Histories of Faerun could distract you from wondering what pleasures tonight would bring.

When finally, finally, Karlach decided to call it a night, you waited a few moments more before creeping off to where Astarion had told you to meet him.

Any other night it may have been eerie, creeping through the woods unarmed  as the moon rose high in the sky. But all you could feel was the anticipation growing, humming in every nerve of your body like someone had struck you with a Witch Bolt.

Your heart nearly stopped as movement caught your eye.

There, emerging from the trees, already shirtless, was the vampire.

You had seen him in various states of undress before - curing wounds of various weapons and spells will do that. But there was something different about it in this circumstance, seeing him perfectly unscathed, strong and confident from the weeks of draining your life from your veins, silver hair and pale skin hauntingly beautiful in the moonlight.

“There you are,” he spoke lowly, striding slowly towards you. “I’ve been waiting. Waiting since the moment I set eyes on you. Waiting to have you.”

While the words themselves made you blush, you couldn’t help comment.

“The moment you set eyes on me you had a knife to my throat.”

“Ah,” he sighed, walking slowly around you, bringing his fingers to lightly trail up your arm. “But if you remember, I did notice then and there what a darling neck you had, I just knew it would be heavenly.”

He closed the distance between you, and you could promptly feel his strong form cold against your back, a prominent bulge pressing into you, and his breath on your neck making you lightheaded.

His hand trailed down your neck to trace the marks he had been leaving nightly. “And I was right.”

Despite how little he had done, you had grown so wound up from the endless fantasies from his nights of feeding that you were already weak in the knees.

His left hand lightly began to caress your thigh, as his right takes to untying the strings of your loose shirt, his mouth never stopping.

“You’ve been so helpful these last few weeks darling, allowing me for the first time to indulge in the blood of a human, giving me strength at your expense. You’ve been so good for me too, holding back all those little sounds you’ve been wanting to make, pretending like you don’t get wet just at the thought of me drinking from you, like you don’t get soaked from the moment my lips touch your neck. Hmm?”

Your breathing was already heavy, your thighs already squeezing together in some attempt for stimulation - it was already too much. All you could do was nod, a breathy “yes” escaping you as your shirt is undone, falling to the forest floor.

His hands begin to explore, lightly tracing up your arms, down your stomach, across your collarbone. “And you’ve been working so hard, haven’t you my love? To keep us alive, to keep us all going. You’ve been so helpful to all of us, to me, I think it’s time I take some weight off of those pretty little shoulders.”

Suddenly, forcefully, he spins you around, steadying you by grabbing your hips. You look into the red eyes that gaze at you intently, with an emotion that is so close to something like love, devotion, but feeling just slightly too forced, slightly too uncanny.

That gaze is a problem for another day, you determine, as he sinks to his knees and gazes up at you, untying your trousers.

After all, the love may not be real, but the lust in his eyes sure as hell is.

He makes slow work of the fabric, speaking up at you the entire time.

“Dearest, I intend to do exactly as I promised. I want to repay you for the kindness you’ve given me, the trust you’ve placed in me. Allow me to please you, to make you forget about everything, if only for a night. Will you allow me this?”

You nodded, mutely, as you stepped out of your pants.

He gazed up at you again, eyes drinking you in, darkening as they travel up your body, stopping at between your legs, your chest, your neck.

When his eyes met yours again, he stood up quickly, cupping your cheek and pulling you into a deep kiss.

You had thought about this moment too often.

What he would taste like, how his fangs would feel against your tongue, how his lips would feel against yours. He pulled you into him desperately, and the sensation of your bare chest against his made your head spin, gasping into the kiss as he took full control, kissing you with such a passion that you might have thought there was more to it than a simple need for release, repayment.

He pulled away all too soon, thumb caressing your lower lip as he gazed at you in that absurdly sultry way of his.

“Before I take your breath away,” he breathed out, pausing to kiss your cheek. “I need to know what you want from me darling.” Another pause, a kiss to the jaw now. “Tell me how to please you.” A kiss behind the ear. “Tell me how to make you scream.”

You were barely keeping it together, eyes already fluttering closed.

A sharp bite to the neck, not enough to bleed, but enough to make you gasp, brought you out of it. His red eyes gazed at you intently, awaiting your response.

“I want you to take control,” you speak, feeling as though you’re giving a confession. “I don’t want to think. I want you to drain me of my blood, of my thoughts. Make me cum, make me scream, make me feel so good it hurts, until I’m begging you to stop, Astarion.”

“Oh, darling,” he nearly growled, his hand caressing your cheek. “I'll do just that.”

He spun you again, once again catching you off guard. Within moments, you feel him press up against you again, this time the hardness of his cock being released from his pants, discarded far into the forest you assumed. 

“You mustn’t keep a sound from me, by the way,” he spoke lightly. “I’ll know if you do.”

You aren’t allowed much time to consider that as you feel his lips on your neck, pecking and lightly biting and sucking. His hands trail upwards to cup your breasts, slowly, softly, deeply massaging, as though he’s trying to feel every inch of your skin. His fingers lightly pinch and tug against your peaks, and he leaves soft bites on your neck, never enough to break the skin.

It had only been moments, but you’re whining, and you can feel your wetness dripping down your thigh.

“Astarion, please,” you breathe, hand coming up to lace in his hair in an attempt to force him deeper into your neck.

He just laughed. “Darling I’ve barely touched you and you’re begging. Allow me to take my time with you.”

His left hand stays at your breast as his right once again wanders downward, slowly reaching your inner thigh.

“I can smell it, you know,” he muttered lowly in your ear, and you almost squeak, flushed with embarrassment. “Every time you’re so wet you can barely think, stuck in your little fantasies as I drink from you. You do so well, hiding your wants from me, but I’ve always known, and I’ve always wanted to push it further, to let my hand wander between your pretty little legs and feel just how wet for me you are…”

As he takes a pause, his fingers reach your folds, lightly caressing up and down, circling your clit, and you both sigh.

“Astarion…”

“Hells, you want me so badly don’t you?”

“Please.”

“Oh, I’m not here to deny you, angel. I’ll give you everything you want…”

Without warning, two of his slender, delightfully long digits enter you, and you release a moan louder than you expected.

“Very good,” he praised, fingers thrusting in and out of you at a steady pace, as he resumed his work on your neck. He continued to suck and bite, no doubt leaving a myriad of bruises and marks that you would have to explain away tomorrow.

He growls again, biting a little harder, though still not hard enough to draw any blood, you notice. His fingers within you speed up, spreading in a way that has you choking out another moan.

“I can hear you thinking, darling. That’s not what we want now, is it?”

“No - fuck, there,” you moan deeper, head tilting back as his fingers reach a place in you that is forever out of your reach.

“Oh, good girl,” he purrs, focusing on that one spot. “Good girl, telling me what you want. Focus on your body, darling, not your thoughts. Feel me against you, feel me in you, feel how badly you need that release.”

“Astarion please.”

“Please what, darling?”

“Bite me harder.”

“Oh, not yet my sweet. We have all night for that, and I would quite like to sample the nectar between your thighs before tasting your heavenly blood. But I’ve left such a wonderful piece of work on your neck, now everyone at the camp will know now more than ever that you’re mine.”

“Fuck,” you gasp out, feeling the waves of heat overcome you and your thighs begin to collapse, your release hitting hard and fast at his use of possessive language.

“Very good, darling,” he praised, holding you up as your vision spun. His fingers didn’t cease as you came, immediately riling you back up, moans spilling out of you louder than before. You hadn’t noticed when he had added a third finger, but you felt the stretch as he pushed in, the emptiness when he pulled out.

You needed more, and he was clearly eager to give it to you.

“Lie down, my darling,” he whispered in your ear. “Allow me to worship you further.”

You did so without hesitation, resting back on a relatively flat portion of the forest floor, spreading your legs as Astarion knelt down, bringing your legs up on to his shoulders and staring down hungrily at you.

Despite the ferocity in his eyes, he took his time, kissing from your ankle to your thigh on your left leg, and then your right. The moment you felt your frustration grow to a peak, he bit down, once again leaving marks but never breaking the skin, marking the soft flesh of your thigh.

He teased you for a few moments before the impatience struck him as well, and leaned forward further, licking a long stripe up your folds.

“Oh darling, and I thought your blood was heavenly,” he breathed, and before you could respond, he went to work.

Immediately your hands were in his hair, pulling and pushing in some attempt to regain any sort of sanity in this moment. His tongue worked wonders, knowing exactly how to work inside you before retreating, teasing at your clit, before the vicious cycle repeated. His hands clenched your thighs as though they were a life line, and the moans that left him traveled into the depths of your core.

It didn’t take long, you were already falling over the edge again, now shouting as the pleasure grew blinding.

“I could stay here forever,” you could barely hear him lament, mind fogged. You blinked blearily as you focused on his face that was now above yours, glistening with your release as he grinned ferally, hand briefly coming up to clench at your throat. “But I have more planned for you.”

Despite your exhaustion, you feel the warmth in your core grow, another release of slick as his cock presses up against your folds.

“May I, pet?”

All you can do is moan pathetically, something between “yes” and “please” falling out of you as you weakly nod.

“Darling, you’re a vision,” once again, he strokes your cheek, uncharacteristically loving for the cold vampire. “Completely fucked out, and we haven’t even arrived at the main course.”

With that, you feel him enter you, no resistance give how worked up you are.

You take a moment, joined, as he breathes heavily into your neck and you let out quiet moans, words completely failing you.

“Divine,” he breathes, returning to kiss your neck, the sensitivity of it making you clench around him immediately. “Oh, so divine, darling I could have you for eternity, such a better use of our time than fighting all of these tiresome battles.”

He began to pump in and out of you slowly, your mind spinning from the weight of him on top of you, the sensation of being fucked so deeply, overwhelmed by the afterglow of all that had happened.

And still his words didn’t cease.

“I could keep you forever, a precious little pet, tied to the bed to fuck whenever I wanted. Or perhaps the other way around, I would wait an eternity just for another chance to taste you, to please you. Whatever fantasy you wish darling, we can fulfill it tonight, I swear to you - fuck.”

He picks up the pace as you clench around him yet again, your release not even having a build up, but instead crashing against you like a tsunami. You feel the wetness seep down your thighs, coating where the pair of you connect.

“Ast-ar…” you can barely breathe, and he laughs almost maniacally.

“Very good, darling, just like that. Give in to me. You don’t need a single thought in that head now, focus only on me and let go. You can cum again, you can, for me.”

“Can’t - I can’t…”

“Oh, you can and you will, if you want me to drink from you tonight,” he muttered darkly, and you feel tears prick in the corner of your eyes.

“Astarion.”

“You have to cum again, to get what you want. Just one more time, my darling. One more and you’ll please me so well. You want to be good for me, don’t you?”

You muster up the last of the strength you have, words falling from you without control. 

“Yes, fuck, yes please, Astarion, please I want to come, I want you to bite me, I need to be yours, I need you ~”

It was almost as though your last orgasm hadn’t ended, with how quickly this one had began. An endless torrent that had the tears breaking, pouring down your face and into the dirt. You nearly choked out a scream, clenching around him so tightly that you feel Astarion tense, cursing wildly as you feel a warmth flood you.

You take a moment, trying with all your might to remember how to breathe, mouth gaping, expecting Astarion to move from you any moment.

Instead you shriek as he thrusts again, hand once again curled around your neck, stopping any chance you had at catching your breath.

“We aren’t done,” he growled, your own slick and his cum leaking out of you as he continued to fuck you, harder now, less restrained that before, nothing but pathetic whimpers leaving you. “We are so far from done, my love. You’re mine, you’re mine.”

Finally, what you had been begging for all night came to pass, and his fangs sunk deep into that claimed spot of your neck. You felt the familiar warmth and euphoria as your blood drained into his hungry mouth, his moans reaching a crescendo and hips moving at an inhumane pace.

And he was right.

You were his, blood and body and mind, it was all his. He had consumed every inch of you.

It was incredible, it was numbing, all you could think about was Astarion. Every molecule of you was on fire, and screamed to be connected to him, to never leave this moment, to stay in an eternity of this torment, but after four orgasms and on the verge of a fifth, with the ecstasy of his fangs in your neck, you simply couldn’t continue.

“Too much,” you manage to croak out, tears streaming down your cheeks and your entire body screaming. Your hands grip the vampire's arms tightly when he doesn’t immediately stop, nails biting into his skin. “Too much, stop!”

Immediately the fangs retract and he’s gently pulling out of you, red eyes wide with a hint of a rare expression on his face.

Fear.

“Darling I’m so sorry, did I take too much? I felt you going limp but, hells you’re so delicious I must have been lost in it-”

You shook your head quickly, placing a hand on his chest as you tried to collect your thoughts, tears still streaming.

“No, no, no,” you breathe out, still gasping. “Not the blood, you’re alright. It was too much, I really can’t cum again, it's too much. Too much good, I promise.”

The fear melted away to a more familiar expression, a smug smirk. 

“Oh darling,” he purred, hand trailing up and down your inner thigh in a soothing but teasing manner. “I don’t know about that, you can still manage full sentences. Clearly too much brain power left…and I could go all night.”

“Astarion.”

A rare, genuine chuckle left the man as he began softly stroking your arm and playing with your hair, easing you down from your intense high.

When your breathing leveled out, he began to stand up, and you nearly whined.

Sensing your distress, he waved lightly. “I’ll be but a moment.”

He sauntered away, and you laid back, taking the moment to look up at the stars, basking in the glow of the orgasms and the moon.

He really had done his job, you had to admit to yourself. You were struggling to form a coherent thought.

When he returned, he had clothed himself, and had a small cloth in his hand. Striding over to you he gently knelt down yet again, running it over the blood stains on your neck, the mess between your thighs.

You stared at him, and he caught your look of surprise.

“What?” he asked, an affronted tone. “I know how to treat my lovers, darling.”

“Hmm,” you chuckle, closing your eyes. “Just a softie, I knew it.”

“Hardly,” he huffed, chucking the cloth off to who knows where and pulling you up against his chest. 

He began to play with your fingers, lightly tracing the veins in your hands and up your arms. The pair of you sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, no words passing between you, but a silent understanding growing.

“We ought to go back to the camp,” Astarion eventually broke the peace, smirking at your disappointed expression. His arms encircled you once again, and you tried not to dwell on how good it felt. “Despite your rather loud vocals, I believe the others didn’t hear us, and unless you’d like to explain to them why you aren’t walking properly tomorrow…”

You snort, pushing him off of you. “Goodnight, Astarion.”

“Goodnight, my darling.”

One thing was certain, you noted as you returned to your bedroll, the sun beginning to peak over the horizon. 

You’ll need extra healing from Shadowheart in the morning.

Thank you to @flightlessangelwings for their Kinktober list this year!