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titaniasfairy · 16 hours ago

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heard you, saw you, felt you

summary: you hate working closing shifts, but when a strange man stops by for a drink, you have no choice but to say yes.

a/n: hi y'all! here's what i wrote for the waitress!reader prompt i posted a few days ago, this is the longest and filthiest thing i've written period. thank you so much @spikedfearn for beta reading this for me! mwah enjoy <3

18+ MDNI

pairing: remmick x female!reader

wc: 5.2k

cw: dub-con!! reader hates her job lowkey, remmick is a FREAK, obsession, manipulation, vampire stuff y'know, biting, blood sucking, cunnilingus, piv sex, creampie, reader blacks out.

closing shifts were the worst. you loved opening shift, spending your shift with the early birds who had fresh smiles and always greeted you with a grinning “good morning” was always your favorite way to start the day. you’d get out around 4:00 pm, leaving the diner to be handled by whatever poor soul was working the dinner shift. on a good day, you’d leave with a couple of dimes jingling in your apron and plenty of guest receipts that had little notes like “have a good day!” or “thank you for breakfast” written on them. you could still stop into town if you needed anything at home, the sun still shining high in the sky beaming down on the townsfolk in the streets. you’d get home at a reasonable hour, just in time to make supper for yourself. at most nice of all, you’d be in bed at a decent hour with plenty of time to sleep before the morning comes.

you didn’t have those luxuries when you worked closing shifts.

when you’d seen the weekly diner schedule shortly after it’d been posted, your lips had shifted from a upward grin to a complete scowl. despite having begged your manager to keep you on opening shifts, you had still been assigned a closing shift, on a saturday night, even better. closing shifts always began while the diner was jam-packed full of patrons. people slumped on barstools, people huddled around tables, people shoved in booths like sardines, and people loitering around outside with lit cigarettes hanging from their mouths. the smell was abhorrent and always made your clothes smell like burnt tobacco before you even punched the clock. when you’d arrive, someone would always greet you with a “thank god you’re here” or “where the hell have you been?” despite you being on time. your feet would end up aching around the second hour of your shift from the constant back and forth from the kitchen to the diner, your wrist would be throbbing from writing countless orders, and your ears would be ringing just from how loud everything was.

it would only start to improve by the time the sun had long gone down, around 9 or 10 o’clock. by then, the kitchen would be closed and the only diners left would be just about finished with their meals. all the other waitresses would head home, leaving you to finish the closing tasks. you’d spend the rest of your shift wiping down tables, polishing silverware, and mopping the floors before you left and locked all the doors. though you originally hated cleaning the restaurant, you found it calming to end the night with such a silent task. sometimes you’d hum or sing to yourself just to pass the time while you swept the floors. the walk home was the worst part, your legs ached and your eyes struggling to stay open while you hobbled home. you’d rely on streetlights to illuminate your way until you made your way to the dirt roads where you’d use the fireflies as guidance. eventually, you’d finally get in your door just to pass out as soon as your back hit the mattress. god forbid you had an opening shift the next day.

tonight’s closing shift was no different than your expectations.

you arrived around 6:00 pm after walking through the dense clouds of gray cigarette smoke, staining your clothes with the stench. you couldn’t even set your things down before another server approached you with the usual “finally, we’re swamped out there.” conversation. you punched your time card in and smoothed out your apron with your hands, making sure to get out any creases or wrinkles that anyone would notice. you checked inside the apron for your pencil and writing pad before going out into the dining room. and like always, you were swamped. diners lined the bar with their hunched over frames, chowing down on whatever special was available that night. people were stuffed in booths, their shoulders rubbing together each time they moved their fork. the section assigned to you was already filled with patrons eager to get their order taken, they’d already resorted to snapping at you to get your attention. during morning shifts, you were always called by a “excuse me miss” or “pardon me”, but when the sun went down it seemed people had forgotten about pleasantries. your night continued with you taking orders and running food, refilling drinks, handing out checks, and cleaning up the messes people left when they got their receipt and change back. your table’s must’ve been stingy, because you were only left with a nickel or two once everyone had staggered out.

after what seemed like a never-ending rush, the diner was finally empty. your co-workers had left as soon as they could, abandoning any opportunity to help you with the side-work that needed to be done. you were completely worn out from the dinner rush. your hair, which was neatly tied up when you came in, had now fallen out of place and stuck out in places where it shouldn’t have. your uniform was colored in a myriad of stains ranging from food, drinks, and grease. sweat had dried on the back of your neck, your forehead, and various other places, leaving you to feel just plain gross. your feet felt as if you had just ran a marathon, aching from holding yourself up all shift. you didn’t even give yourself the blessing of a break since it was so busy throughout the diner, leaving for 15 minutes would have only made things worse.

the sun had been replaced with a bright full moon, illuminating the outside and shining through the windows of the diner. you had finished polishing the silverware and sorting them in the back, leaving you with only sweeping and mopping to do. like usual, you broke the eerie silence throughout the restaurant by singing to yourself. you never sang too loud, just enough so you could hear yourself sing along to a familiar tune. you drowned out the sound of the mop squelching on the floor with a melody you learned from your mother long ago, back when she’d sing to herself when hanging up the laundry. those songs would always find a way to cheer you up, no matter how exhausting the night was. the crickets outside acted as your back-up singers, chirping along to a rhythm you couldn’t pick up on.

before you knew it, the entire floor had been mopped. you put the mop back in the closet, then grabbed the bucket of dirty water to dump into the sink in the back. after ensuring that everything else was put in its right place and cleaned up properly in the kitchen, you grabbed your things and locked the back door before punching the clock. you made sure to shut the kitchen light off as you walked out into the diner. but as you scanned the restaurant one last time, something was off. the crickets had stopped chirping and the silence left in the room wasn’t something that could be remedied with a song. it wasn’t until you looked out the window that you saw him.

a man, standing outside the diner with his back to the glass window that spanned across the dining room. his hands were tucked in his pockets with his head turned down to the ground, like he was praying for something. his clothes weren’t pristine and spotless, but they weren’t tattered and soiled either, they just looked worn. a set of suspenders crossed against his bag and held up a pair of dark trousers. the shirt on his back looked to be just a bit too large for him, definitely not tailored for the man. the sleeves were rolled up to his elbows on arms that looked to be a smidge too pale for the month of june, especially in the mississippi delta. you shrugged it off and told yourself it was just the moonlight playing tricks on you. you felt as if he was waiting on the door to open, his frame was leaning on the window and he kept looking to his side to see if anyone was there. you figured he was waiting on you, so you made your way across the diner to open the door, making the bells on it ring out. the man immediately turned to look at you, like it was reflex. a smile was spread across his face, revealing his not-so-perfect teeth.

“can i help you, sir?” your voice was just low enough to hear. the man’s eyes flickered up and down, looking at the state of your stained apron and dress. he inhaled what sounded like a chuckled before replying, “that was a beautiful song you were singing in there.”. your brows furrowed in confusion. how could he hear you in there? perhaps you were louder than you thought. still, you were flattered, you could feel heat rising up to your cheeks.

you weren’t able to get a good look at his face until you opened the door, you were delighted to find the man quite handsome. he looked to be about your age, if not older. his eyes were soft but his face looked like it’d seen years of hard labor, his features littered with small scars and marks from god knows what. shadows fell across his brow bone, leaving his eyes dark with no distinguishable color to his irises. his smile felt human, his teeth not aligned like someone wealthy, with a few overlapping each other. you were too busy admiring him to notice that you didn’t respond, making your entire face warm, now.

“t-thank you! my mama used to sing it all the time.” you tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear like a enamored schoolgirl would, embarrassing yourself even more. the man turned his head to side, cocking it while he looked at you, making you stumble on your words. “can i help you with anything? it’s awfully late.” you looked up at him while you spoke, he wasn’t much taller than you. “well..” he looked at your name tag safety pinned to your uniform, the back up to you. his accent was thick but sweet like honey, it didn’t sound like he was from the delta, but he was certainly from somewhere down south. your name fell from his lips, hanging from them like vines. the air was stagnant until he opened his mouth again. “i just finished my shift at the construction site and i am mighty thirsty, sugar.” he licked his lips while he awaited a response from you.

you looked back into the diner, still lit by the overhead lights hanging from the ceiling. technically you were closed, and you’d have to charge him for something like a sweet tea or lemonade, but you doubted he’d turn down water. you looked back outside to discover the man had moved closer, you gave him another look. “i ain’t ever seen you before.” you weren’t suspicious, just curious. you were used to the people who came around at night, the same people who carry flasks in their pockets and don’t tip unless you flirt. he didn’t seem like them, though. “i don’t come around much. i just want to sit down for a bit, is that too much to ask?” you considered saying no, that your manager would throw you through the ringer if you let someone in after hours, let alone a stranger. but he did look thirsty, you couldn’t count the amount of times his tongue ran across his lips. he stared at the diner like it was an oasis in the desert, like if he closed his eyes too long he’d find it gone when he opened them. “i don’t suppose why not. c'mon in, i’ll get you something.” his face was beaming before you could finish your sentence. he held the door for you as you walked in, you wondered to yourself if he was always such a gentleman. he found his way to the bar and sat down on one of the stools as you walked behind the bar. “i don’t usually do this, y’know.” you said while looking at him across from you. he had his elbows resting on the wood, his body leaning in towards you. on his neck sat an iron chain, slightly rusted from age. it caught the light when he moved, shining in one place then another when his neck turned. he kept that toothy grin of his as he responded, “well i’m certainly grateful,” he said your name again like he’d known you for awhile, not just for a few moments. “you know my name but i don’t know your’s.” his eyebrows were raised as you spoke, intently listening to whatever you had to say.

“remmick”

he spoke it like he wasn’t proud of it. his eyes shifted down to the wood, averting his gaze from your eyes. you titled your head a bit, you’d never heard that name before. it sounded almost ancient, foreign to you in a way. “i ain’t ever heard that name before, you from around here?” he chuckled at your confusion and looked back up at you, his blue eyes now clear as day in the diner’s bright lighting. “you sure do ask a lot of questions, darlin’” remmick’s hands were clasped in front of him, his interlaced fingers were thick and his nails were short and worn down. your cheeks warmed up again, making you smile in embarrassment. “well i don’t want to serve a stranger, you could be dangerous.” you grabbed a glass from behind the bar and polished it with a nearby rag. remmick licked his lips again, smirking at you. you couldn’t fight the butterflies flying in your stomach as his eyes raked over you once more, like he was eyeing a meal. “but you let one in?”

he ran the back of his hand over his mouth after he said it, wiping a string of drool off his lips that you didn’t see. “there’s a first time for everything.” you looked around, then remembered the icebox was off. you’d have to wait at least 10 minutes if he wanted ice. “i don’t have any ice…” the sentence hung from your lips as your mind wandered off. “i don’t need it sweetheart, i’d just about drink anything right now.” you gave him a nod before walking to the nearby sink and turning on the tap. you filled the glass up before turning the handle and pouring out the excess water from the class.

“i can’t thank you enough, sugar.” he told you as you made your way around the bar. you set the glass down on the wood before sitting yourself at the barstool next to remmick. his hand wrapped around the glass and raised it to his lips, taking one short sip. for someone who just said they were near death from dehydration, he wasn’t very eager to drink the water. you shrugged it off and took a closer look at his clothes. his dress shirt was opened up a few buttons, revealing a white wife-beater underneath. they looked aged, but not quite as worn down as you’d expect.

“you never did tell me where you were from.” his eyes were trained on you, almost locked on your lips as you spoke. his other hand sat resting on his knee, his fingers tapping against it every now and then. “i’m from around.” he said, seemingly avoiding the question. his eye’s moved from your lips to somewhere below them, staring at what you assumed to be your necklace. you held the pearl hanging on your neck between two fingers, fiddling it in nervousness. the back of his hand wiped over his mouth again.

your facial expression changed from curiosity to confusion, brows furrowed and eyes squinted. you looked back to the counter, where the water sat. remmick hadn’t touched the glass you gave him since he took the first sip. you wondered if the well had something to do with it. “that water no good or something?” you looked back at him and saw a new man, one who didn’t look like a man at all. his once blue irises were now a dark crimson, hiding beneath his black lashes. he gave you that toothy grin you’d noticed when opened the door, but his teeth had been replaced with jagged daggers, his canines now sharp like fangs.

“i think we both know that’s not what i wanted.”

your breath hitched, the air from your lungs suddenly disappeared and left you speechless. you tried to respond but were only able to let out a squeak. remmick rose from the barstool and stepped towards you, almost towering over you now. he brought a long clawed finger up to your mouth, shushing you. “aw, it’ll be alright, sweetheart. don’t cry.” his voice was rasped and low, the frequency vibrating through you. your vision began to blur with tears, making you squeeze your eyes shut in fear. he brought another finger to your cheeks to wipe the salty streams that had begun to fall from your eyes.

“i knew i had to have you. from the moment i heard that pretty voice i knew what i had to do.” his lips were on your ear, his voice paralyzing you in place. he kept one hand cupping your cheek and one holding your waist, gripping the apron you’d had on all night along with your plump flesh. you found the courage to speak again, your voice only a weak whisper, “what are you?” remmick let out a low chuckle and you could feel his smile on your face.

“your savior.”

you gasped when his lips began to kiss your jaw, making their way down to your exposed neck. “i know just how miserable you are, sugar. you don’t do nothing but work all day and night just for a couple of dimes and nickels. nobody ever thanks you, either. you practically run this place yourself but you don’t have anything to show for it. isn’t that right, darlin’?” his breathing sent shivers down your spine, his words festering in your head.

he was right. you work your ass off nearly everyday to keep the diner afloat but you hadn’t received a promotion in years. your co-workers rely on you to keep things steady but don’t have the decency to offer any help.

“you go home miserable and lonely, no husband at home and no kids to feed. all the other girls your age are married off by now and got litters of young-ins, don’t they?”

more tears fell from your eyes, you’d always dreamed of having a family just like you did growing up. but no man was ever willing to give you the time of day, not when you came home smelling like grease and coffee. your heart panged in your chest, still pumping fast from sheer adrenaline. you shook your head, but you knew there was no point in denying him.

“i can take you away from all this pain. give you a life you always wanted, doesn’t that sound sweet, sugar?”

you sobbed in remmick’s arms as he continued to kiss down your neck. you tried to ignore the way your thighs clenched each time his tongue touched your flesh, but it wasn’t worth trying. you leaned into his touch, back arching into each kiss and lick he laid on your skin.

“i chose you to be mine, and i met you there, and you invited me in.”

a small moan left your lips before you felt it. his lips enclosed on your neck and kissed the flesh before remmick widened his mouth and bit into you like a ripe georgia peach. you felt the pressure of it first, your head lolling back and screaming out in pain. after a few seconds you felt the fangs retract, allowing him to take from you what he wanted all along. he sucked in your gushing blood like a man starved, tongue flicking over the bite wound and making you squirm in his hold. you felt the rush of blood loss run through you, making your vision flood with black spots. you squeezed your eyes shut and anticipated the worst, but once remmick’s lips left your neck, you experienced euphoria.

an invisible weight lifted from your aching shoulders, your lungs let out an exhale you didn’t know you were holding or how long you were keeping it in. after a few moments you opened your eyes and laid eyes on the monster you’d devoted yourself to. the lower half of his face was smeared with your blood, his nectar. you couldn’t deny the sudden pull he had on you, his gaze making your cunt quiver.

remmick’s bloodied lips were on yours before you knew it, his kiss almost bruising. his hands cupped your face while yours tangled in his locks. your tongues slid over each other’s, interwoven in a soul binding kiss that felt like heaven on earth. your blood had smeared onto your face, marking you as forever his. as you leaned into the kiss, you could feel remmick’s hands slip behind your back and untie the apron you’d been wearing, discarding it to the floor once it fell into his grasp. his hands fell to you hips and pushed lightly, causing your back to hit the wood of the barstool, pinning you there. your chest heaved like a panting dog as his sharp claws played with the hem of your dress, his forehead pressed up against yours as he breathed life into your mouth. after a few moments, remmick’s fingers pushed your dress back to bunch it at your hips, revealing your plump thighs to him.

before you knew it, he was on his knees below you. he took his time admiring your legs, holding one with both hands, leaving a trail of kisses starting from your calf and ending at the tops of your thighs, then switching to the other. it was hauntingly romantic. your mouth couldn’t stop the small whimpers that left you each time his lips found the places that left goosebumps on you when kissed, his eyes would shoot up to meet your’s with each sound that left you in a desperate need of approval. his lips left the top of your thigh and his hands landed under the backs of your knees, holding them to your chest. he gasped when he saw them, your cotton panties that had stuck to your heat and the darkened wet patch that sat just where your opening was. remmick’s nose pressed against the cloth, breathing you in and surrounding himself in nothing but you. it made your stomach flip and your cunt clench. in what could only be impatience, a razor sharp claw sawed its way through your panties, cutting them from your body and finding themselves somewhere on the floor along with your apron. you gasped in a strange mixture of arousal and fear, the sound coming out of you like a wanton moan. once your cunt had been revealed, his eyes were glued to watching it react to its new surroundings. he even blew a stream of air on it to watch you jump. he let out a dark chuckle, grinning to himself.

“i heard you, i saw you, felt you. and now, i’m going to give you the gift of belonging.”

you batted your lashes down at him, now holding your legs apart for him. remmick’s dark eyes stared back up at you, two dark voids filled with only god knows what, but you didn’t care anymore. god be damned if he’s a monster, he’s the most beautiful one you’d ever seen in your life. you nodded your head to tell him you were ready, even though remmick knew he didn’t need your permission anymore. he left a small kiss to the top of your clit before devouring you. his tongue ran its way over the seam of your cunt, then his lips began to suck. it was bliss you couldn’t have even imagined, your back arching off the seat and the butterflies in your stomach beginning to swarm. his tongue lapped up your arousal like it was his god-given right to, slurping up each drop you could possibly give to him. remmick moaned into your folds, the vibrations sending shockwaves throughout your body. his lips moved to suck your clit, flicking the bundle of nerves with his tongue every so often. while his mouth was occupied with the top of your heat, two fingers made their way to your opening, pressing into your entrance.

“taste like heaven, sugar. i’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

the quiet diner on the downtown street was suddenly filled with the most sinful of sounds, a filthy combination of moans and whimpers. remmick’s fingers had made their way inside you, thrusting at a slow, but moderate, pace. your own fingers were interlaced in the dark strands of his hair that had begun to mat from his own sweat. you ground your hips into his open mouth, making him groan out in satisfaction. you felt his fingers hitting the sweet spot you’d only felt with your own, the feeling even more intense along with his lips lapping over your folds.

your cunt clenched tight, and remmick knew your orgasm with approaching, making him more ravenous than before. his movements became calculated, he was laser-focused on making you reach your climax. your breathing became labored, chest moving up and down with each breath. the coil in your stomach tightened, your body tensed up and awaited his approval.

“now give me what i need, sweet girl.”

a flood of emotions washed over you, a wave of euphoria hit you like a strike of lightning and your cunt was gushing before you knew it. remmick discarded his fingers from your hole and used his tongue over your entrance as you rode out your orgasm. underneath the blissful wailing from your mouth, you could hear him moaning against your heat, breathing you in his lungs. when the flood had subsided, he came up for air and rose from his knees. remmick’s mouth that was previously covered in your blood was now wiped clean, the taste of you still lingering on his tongue. your chest throbbed with adoration, your head only filled with thoughts of him. his hands cupped your face again, noses touching and foreheads pressed against each other. you closed your eyes and brought yourself down to earth, his thumbs caressing the underside of your job. remmick kissed you softly, the kiss passionate but not hungry. his lips lingered over your’s for a moment before he spoke, “you’re so beautiful” your name leaving his mouth as your eyes closed. never in your life did you feel so wanted.

you raised your lips to his as a thank you, hands clutching his face. your tongue ran over his lips, eliciting a moan from the man. your tongue slid into his mouth and explored, running it over the backs of his fangs and the roof of his mouth. he groaned into the kiss, hands sliding down to hold your waist. as the kiss began to heat up, remmick pulled away and flipped you around, bending you over the barstool.

“fuck, babydoll.” his hands ran down the sides of your waist and across the mound of your ass, squeezing the flesh just for a moment. his claws ran over the sides of your hips, scratching lightly and sending goosebumps down your spine. you let out a sigh of relief when you felt his groin press against you, the hard bulge placed on your entrance. you pressed your hips against him, meeting him in the middle. you whined at the sudden loss of feeling, but your thighs clenched when you heard the clinking of a belt buckle from behind you. “i’m gonna make you really sing now, sugar. make sure the whole world knows my name, baby.” remmick slapped your ass light before pressing the tip of his cock to your opening. he gave you a few moments to adjust before sliding his whole length inside you, filling you until it felt like you were overflowing.

his cock was thick, most certainly thicker than the two fingers he’d given you earlier. the sheer length of him was enough to make your eyes pop, head snug against your cervix once he bottomed out. you tried to let out a whine, but you were shushed before you could protest. “none of that now, sweetheart. this is what you wanted. i could smell it on you as soon as you opened that door.” when you tried squirming your hips, one large hand pushed them down while another gathered both your wrists and pulled hard, forcing your back to arch to the point where you were almost standing. remmick’s lips pressed against your ear, whispering low in a voice that shook your soul,

“we are going to make beautiful music together, sugar.”

his hips pulled back and slammed into you, pushing you forward and causing you to wail. his cock bullied itself inside you, the tip hitting your sweet spot with each rough thrust. the angle remmick had you in allowed him to sink himself as deep as he could, sending shocks throughout you and making your head throw back in bliss. your head was empty, only filled with want and obsession. “there we go, use that pretty voice for me.” the hand pressing down on your hips wrapped around your neck, exposing the unbitten side to him. his hips continued to thrust into you with deep and rough strokes. each whimper and moan you let out was awarded with remmick’s own groans, his cock twitching inside you. his lips began to lick and suck on your neck, preparing you for the inevitable. his nose breathed your scent in once more, making your eyes squeeze shut in pleasure.

“i can’t wait to spend eternity with you.” you could only remember the pressure of his fangs puncturing your flesh and the excruciating pain that came afterwards. it wasn’t pulling and intimate like the first bite, it was ravenous and animalistic. you felt remmick’s thrusts stop suddenly and felt warmth begin to fill your cunt before your vision went black.

the next morning, the owner came in to collect the time cards only to find the door wide open and the fresh pool of blood on the floor. it was smeared from the barstool down to the tile, no footprints or handprints to be found. he yelled out in horror and alerted the whole block of a murderer. the cops thought it was a robbery gone wrong, but the cash register was left untouched. once they found out who was closing that night, they came to your doorstep and searched for any sign of you, but you were nowhere to be found. days turned into weeks, and you were put on the “missing, presumed to be dead” list that had gotten longer with each week that passed. but you wouldn’t be dead for a long long time.

#bear rambles #this is rancid please enjoy #remmick x reader #remmick smut #remmick x you #remmick x y/n #jack o'connell #i'm so sorry #y'all come on and eat

263 notes · View notes

allllium · 17 hours ago

Note

Omg your vampire Jason is amazing!!! Can we please get more???

Vampire Jason is one of my favsss 😋

Unbelievable

Vampire Jason x Reader

- This took so long bc I couldn't decide on a direction to go but here we are.

- Angsty, WC: 2466, Mentions of sickness and eating issues

- You find out your boyfriend is a vampire

There's something weird about your boyfriend.

Obviously you'd expect that from someone who has as much trauma as he does.

He's never told you exactly how he died and came back, but you know it happened.

Whatever happened seems to have changed him in a way you haven't quite put your finger on.

It's not like he's done anything wrong.

He's just off.

You've noticed the way he doesn't eat what you cook. Always having some excuse of already eating or finding a way to hide it in a napkin.

He's not as subtle as he thinks.

And it's not just the food. He often avoids sunlight and is paler than he should be. He doesn't sleep as much as he should for someone out all night.

You swear his teeth are sharper than normal.

So far in your relationship, he hasn't explained anything and you haven't gotten up the nerve to ask.

The few questions you have asked hasn't gone over well. You didn't realize in the moment how he might not respond well to you asking questions about his scars, as simple as they were.

Not only did you not get a real answer, but now there's even more tension than before on asking any questions. Even ones that have the chance to make or break your entire relationship.

It's hard knowing something is different about your boyfriend and it's even harder knowing he doesn't trust you enough to tell you about it.

"Hey Jay?" You whisper as you sit next to him on the couch. He's sitting with a book and you have your legs over his lap while you watch TV.

"Yes angel?" He responds immediately, looking away from his book to pay full attention to you.

"What's your favorite food?" You want to try and understand him better without asking his straight up and causing issues. You don't want it to seem like you're trying to trick him or going behind his back but the amount of questions you have are starting to drive you insane.

You figure since he never eats food, this is a good question to lean into it. You can see him considering his answer. "I don't know, maybe pizza. Simple but good." He explains with no problem.

"Interesting.." You murmur almost silently. He shuts his book fully and sets in aside. You've captured his attention with just one word. Of course you set your eyes back on the TV so he doesn't sense you're up to something.

"What's interesting about it?" He has one eyebrow slightly raised and looks a little concerned about where this topic is heading.

You bite your lip, faking innocence, and hesitant slightly before answering to really play it off. "Well," you sigh audibly and see him lean closer out of the corner of your eye. "I'm just a little worried, y'know I've never really seen you eat anything and eating issues are a big problem."

It takes a lot of effort to not blow your cover and smile like a clown. "What? No honey I don't any eating issues." He puts his hand on your leg in reassurance and looks distraught at your words. You can almost hear the panic in his voice.

"I've been trying to understand for a while but I finally figured it out." Once you started in this lie, it just keeps going. You hope it's enough for him to admit at least a little bit of the truth. Whatever that might be. "I honestly feel bad I didn't start trying to help sooner."

Is it still manipulating if it's for a good cause?

"What? No I swear I'm okay?" He moves closer in his attempt to calm you down. It's sweet how much he cares.

"But I can't think of any other explanation for why you never eat. It's not normal. You can tell me y'know? I only want what's best for you." Yes you're laying it on a little thick but if that's what it takes, oh well.

"And it's not just that!" You continue before he can get any words out, closing his mouth in surprise. "I mean you're so pale and you don't sleep enough and you avoid sun so much there has to be something wrong. I don't understand why you didn't tell me."

"Baby, I promise I'm not sick."

"Yes you are."

"No I'm not."

"Yes you are!"

"No. I am not!"

"Yes. You. Are."

"Okay that's enough. I'm not sick."

"It's the only explanation." He gets off the couch and walks back and forth behind it.

"No it's not." He turns and says, making sure you're looking at him as he says it.

"Then what is it? From where I'm standing there's nothing normal happening." The more you say, the closer you get to reaching the answer on your own.

He rolls his eyes and starts to leave the living room, "I'm going to the bathroom."

"Liar. I've never seen you pee." You say it as a half murmer, not caring whether he hears you or not.

"Yeah that's cause I do it with the door closed." He yanks open the door of the bathroom showing how annoyed he is. You don't exactly care if he's annoyed or not. Fucking liar.

"You know what I mean!" You shout, standing from the couch. And when he slams the door closed with him behind it, you make what could be considered a very toxic decision.

Unfortunately for Jason he left his phone on the kitchen counter. While you'd never want to invade his privacy like this normally, these aren't normal circumstances.

You highly doubt you're going to find anything but the anxiety of the situation has you reaching for his phone and entering his password before you can lecture yourself into stopping.

Taking a deep breath and peaking around the corner to make sure he hasn't slipped out without you noticing. Most of his phone is full of normal guy things, at least you think, and there's nothing popping out at you.

You feel a wave of intense relief flood over you. You don't know what you thought you'd find but your extremely glad it was nothing.

Except it's not.

The moment you put his phone back in the same spot you found it, it dings. Once again, against your better instincts you pick it back up and see a text from Dick.

This is the point you really need to stop yourself.

Obviously you don't do that. The text itself is a weird ass meme but it only takes a few scrolls up before your world crashes down on you.

A heavy weight takes its well known place on your chest. Suddenly so many things click together you don't even know how to react.

- Dickhead

: So did you talk about it yet?

: You're not being a pussy about it are you

: You just gotta sit down and say Babycakes

I'm a vampire

: Maybe do a little growl while you're at it

: really sell it

- Jason's phone

: first of all I will never say the words babycakes

: you're disgusting

: second I can't just blurt it out I have to ease into it

: this is a sensitive topic

- Dickhead

: wrong

: in my experience it's best to go all in as fast as you can

- Jason's phone

: that's terrible

: this is why no one likes you

- Dickhead

: I don't take advice from cowardly vampires thank you very much

Wow you're really hoping they were joking around but the way everything clicks in place has no other explanation.

It explains all of his weird behaviors and looks. You just really really don't want it to be true. You try to focus on your breathing and calming yourself down while you out his phone back on the counter.

The only experience you have with vampires is in the form of Twilight and The Vampire Diaries. So you're not exactly sure what this entails.

He seemed really concerned to bring it up. Maybe he didn't tell you because he thought you'd leave or be scared. Damn. You can't tell if you're scared or not.

You don't think you are but it's also hard to wrap your head around your boyfriend being a vampire that literally drinks people's blood.

"Fuck." You whisper almost silently. And in doing so it makes you wonder how good his hearing really is. Whether or not he can hear you whisper to yourself in the next room is anyones guess at this point.

You're not sure what you're supposed to be feeling about this news. Most people would probably leave without a second thought but you can't even bring yourself to leave the kitchen. Jason means a lot to you and the last thing you want to do is leave him over anything like this.

However, if he lies to you about it one more time you can't guarantee it will end well.

"Stop hiding in the bathroom!" You shout, still standing at the counter with your hand on his phone protectively. You know this man well. If he has access to his phone he'll pretend he got an important message and run out the door before you have time to call it out.

He comes out sheepishly. Like he wasn't expecting you to pull him out of hiding so soon. He almost looks like a scorned child, like he knows you'll continue to tug on his lies.

He looks down at the phone under your hand and back up at you. He looks up and down, and up and down while you slowly feel your patience wearing thin.

You take a deep audible breath and he brings his eyes back to you. You don't know what to say first and the look of uncertainty in his eyes makes you want to blurt all of it out at the same time.

He either knows exactly what this conversation is about to be or has absolutely no clue.

"I can't believe you're comfortable lying with me for so long and about something so big."

His eyes widen with panic. He opens his mouth to say something but slams it shut immediately. You can see his eyes wonder everywhere but your own and he bites the inside of his cheek multiple times.

"Do you know what I'm talking about or do you have multiple secrets that could fit this situation?" You're proud of how stern you sound. Not talking any shit for an answer.

"I know what you're talking about. It's the only thing I've kept from you." He takes a few steps around the counter, slowly making his way towards you.

"Yeah it's only the biggest thing about you why bother disclosing that in a relationship." It makes you chuckle in not only frustration but disbelief in the situation.

"I didn't want to scare you. No one hears the words I'm a vampire and doesn't freak out." A few steps closer. He sounds a lot more calm than he looks.

"So what? You figured you'd tell me after our one year anniversary? Maybe the day of our wedding so I can leave after my freak out? Or possibly you'd wait until Grayson did it himself." You roll your eyes as you say your last sentence. The more you talk, the more pissed off you feel yourself getting.

You're definitely not scared, you realize. But there is no world in which you forgive him easily for this.

"Did you go through my phone?"

"Is that what you want to focus on?"

"I don't know. I don't know what I'm supposed to say to make you feel better about this."

"I'm not scared because you're a vampire, I'm not mad that you're a vampire. I am unbelievably pissed that we are eleven months into this relationship and you have lied to me every single day of it!" Tears slowly well up in your eyes. Your words get more pronounced as they continue.

"I didn't want you to leave." He's only a couple steps away from you but instead of closing the distance, he reaches his hands out towards you. You don't step away.

"And you decided to take that choice away from me completely. I can't believe I have to say this but if you are a supernatural being it is not something you hide as long as possible."

One of his hands lands on your shoulder, the other coming to rest on your waist.

"I didn't know how to bring it up. The last thing I wanted was to lie-"

"You had so many options! Am I seriously supposed to believe you chose the hardest one for you? To me it seems like you chose the easiest one to deal with." You pull away from his touch and turn the other way, preparing to leave the kitchen all together.

"Do you seriously believe I like lying to you?" He finally raises his voice to match yours. Soft enough the neighbors won't complain but enough to clearly notice."This wasn't easy for me! I love you. Do you know how hard it is to face the reality you might leave because of something I can't control! Something I never thought would be my reality!"

"Do you know how terrifying it is to have a boyfriend that never eats anything, never sleeps at night, never does anything that a normal person does. Do you have any idea how difficult it is to be in a relationship like that?"

"I don't know what to say to fix this."

"I don't know either! I don't know if you can." He looks utterly defeated as he hears you say that.

"So I was right." He mutters, like it was the hardest thing he's ever said.

"No. I don't care what you are. I care that I've been worried sick this entire time that something was wrong and I might lose you. Only to find out the truth from your brother and knowing you had no plan to tell me. Seriously, Jason, when were you planning on telling me this?"

"I really don't know. Nothing felt right." You can see how upset he is. His reasons make sense and you know it. But you simply can't get over this right now.

"Okay." You whisper and leave the kitchen. He doesn't follow you or attempt to say anything else.

You try to take calming breaths as you get further away from him.

You hope you'll wake in the morning less angry. Maybe in a much better mood to hear him out.

As of right now, you know you can't sleep in the same place as him.

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transboyswitchytales · 1 day ago

Text

Forever Won’t Be Long Enough

Part 1, 2 vampire au - ‘I can't control myself because I don't know how,And they love me for it, honestly, I'll be here for a while ,So give them blood, blood, gallons of the stuff Give them all that they can drink, and it will never be enough So give them blood, blood, blood’ - Blood by MCR

Warnings: BLOOD / Period Blood /Period Sex / Violence/yearning / Rio x Reader / Blood kink / Bruises and Bites / Possessive and Jealousy / on the run again

This story was two requests!

@raleighgay hope this helps with your hurt foot! And Anon: I NEED MORE FIFTY CHAPTERS OF THE VAMPIRE FIC PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE JSJSKSMJSKSKSKJSKSJSKJSKSKSKWK

I edited this on my phone so it might need me to edit it again lol 😝

Your eyes were closed as you felt her razor-pointed fangs scratch the back of your shoulders.

You smile into the pillow, you are naked, lying on your stomach, and your body flexes up to meet her sharp canines.

“I don’t know any other prey that would flex into a predator's touch,” Agatha whispers her lips moving against your warm skin, the softness of her lips brings your body to life at night, and you feel your body shiver.

In the low light of candles in the master bedroom of poor Bohners house. It had turned into a sort of sex dungeon for you and Agatha.

You hadn’t left in a month. You don’t remember the last time either of you wore clothes. Agatha ran you a crazy amount of baths which you two always ended up having sex and Agatha would use her vampire strength to carry you out of the bed and fuck you into the mattress.

You’d broken the sink.

Agatha had been eating your pussy and she’d grabbed the poor inocent sink, and your vampire just didn’t know her strength. It shattered and you still came, Aggie didn’t stop for a second. It was like blood was her second favorite thing to drink from you.

You felt Agatha using her sharp nails to scratch from your ass up your spine and you move your face to the side to see her.

“No prey ever fell as deeply in love, I suppose.” You whisper, and Agatha beams at you and flips you over roughly. You giggle as she peppers kisses so sweet and tender all over your face.

“Bunny, you can’t say things like that. I need you again. And have you I will.” Agatha teased in a whiny needy voice and you brought your fingers into her dark long tendrils of thick hair. You loved playing with her locks, and you pulled her to your lips and kissed her slowly.

When you pulled back, Aggie looked annoyed at your need for air. You were immortal but you needed to breathe and she didn’t.

“Read to me again?” You whisper, and Aggie pretends to glare.

“It’s your turn, little rabbit.”

“No! It’s your turn, I went twice!” You tease, and your hand goes down to cup her sex, and she gives you a hungry growl. But she doesn’t pull away, unable to tell you no, unable to deny you anything. Your fingers fit inside her cunt like nothing ever has.

You two had spent the last forty-three hours reading, or rather attempting to read Interview with A Vampire. It seemed Bohner didn’t own a lot of books on his shelves, lots of comic books, but not a lot of written literature. And you teased that they should start with Camillia. But Bohner just didn’t have a lot of choices.

But you two didn’t just read. You spent the last fourty three hours being very competitive in a game of ‘how far can you read while I eat you out before you can’t speak.’

Let’s just say you were actually winning, much to Agatha’s dismay. But only by about a paragraph. So it wasn’t that much of a victory. Your bodies were meant for each other, and therefore every touch just created such a feral reaction.

You had never made love this many times in a row. And the new vampire blood in your body made you never tire, it was never enough touching and kissing and cumming.

It had been a month since Agatha turned into a vampire.

A month of hot, bloody sex and hours and hours of talking in the dark.

Agatha as it turned out, had been incredibly lonely.

She’d admitted it to you in the early light of another morning. You were kissing her neck and she told you secrets. Things not her mother, not Rio, not another soul had ever heard.

You greeted her secrets with kisses and soft hands.

You’d been a little surprised at Agatha. But it turned out your vampire had so much she needed to get off her chest. And you never turned her away, told her she’d been bad or needed to repent.

And Agatha grew bolder with every second of loving you. She’d wrap her arms around you and trap you in her embrace and make love to you again on the kitchen floor.

Agatha acted like this new body wasn’t a curse, but a blessing from Mother Devine. Because she had you now.

Agatha didn’t know this is what loved was made to feel like.

One morning you’d turned to see a thunder and lightning storm. You’d flipped ontop of Aggie’s chest, to see her staring out the window, and you made her jump as you got off the bed and got dressed.

“Bun, what is it?” She asked, confused.

“I’m going to take your virginity!” You yelled and threw leftover Agnes Detective clothes at her face. She dressed but looked confused, you realized in that moment, she trusted you. She didn’t second guess you, as you led her to the street.

It was so early that no one was up, and the rain hit the pavement like it was proving a point.

“Baby, we are gonna get struck by lightning out here!” She shouted over the rain, it was so loud her neighbors would never hear it.

“You are immortal! Now dance with me, Harkness!” You instruct, and Aggie smirks, you knew she’d never done this. And this new body needed new experiences, you’d told her that it needed to be loved, and you were just the bloody girlfriend to do it for her.

So Agatha leaned her forehead against yours, and you put her hands on your hips, then wrapped your arms around her neck.

The rain pounded against you, and you swayed.

Agatha didn’t tell you how you didn’t have music, and that this was silly, no. Agatha didn’t ask you if you’d ever slow danced. She saw your mortal junior prom dance, knew how it ended badly. She’d experienced every moment of your life. Knew all your hopes and fears.

And the vampire knew that you’d waited to dance in the rain with the right person.

Agatha was proud to be your forever, she vowed this would be the first of many thunderstorm slow dances.

“Hey Fangs?” You leaned against her cheek to say in her ear. The thunder booming above you, but neither immortal had a fear in the world.

“Yes, Bunny?”

“Thank you.” You said, and Agatha tightened her hold on you, and you understood exactly what she meant. ‘For you, anything.’

Neither of you were ever alone again. And the fact that you never would be warm your heart.

You weren’t sure how fate worked still. Even as Agatha sat up in bed with you resting on her stomach, looking at her, she’d explain the universe and you’d arch an eyebrow not believing her.

You still didn’t understand how magic and immortality all worked. Even after Agatha tried to read you books.

But you were very sure of one thing, you believed in destiny now. Because everything you’d ever wanted in a partner, Agatha just did naturally.

She knew what to say after a nightmare and where you were the most ticklish.

Agatha and you were made of the same soul it seemed.

You both loved quiet, books, and slow lovemaking.

You wanted long kisses and words only safe to be said in each others arms.

It was the best time of your life.

It should have terrified you how fast everything clicked into place.

Like you’d both skipped all the get-to-know-you phase. You skipped the ‘actually I need you to put way my pressure on my clit or I’ll never cum.’

If this was a human relationship, your old therapist would have said you were super co-dependent.

But for some reason, it just didn’t bother either of you.

Agatha had told you that she’d felt like the Devine Goddess had hated her. The words ‘until now’ stuck in the air as she smiled at you, naked, pressed against her.

So, of course, a good thing had to end.

You were eating the last of the food in the house, it was dry Captain Crunch actually. Which Agatha had argued had no nutrition in it. As she read the back of the box.

“So shall I go to the store?” You faked walking naked to the front door, and Agatha growled and scooped you up into her arms and off the floor. You giggled as she play bit your shoulder.

“You can’t leave, you taste too good. You are my prisoner.” Agatha licked your neck, and your body lost all ability to wiggle. She knew you too well. “Come back to bed, I need you.”

You gasped before responding as her hands traveled your skin like she knew it in the dark, because she did. Because she could make you cum with her words alone. And to Agatha’s shock, so could you. And your combined powers were being used for evil and not good, but oh it felt so good.

“I thought vampires slept in coffins?” You were about to point out that Agatha could walk into the sunlight. Even though they hadn’t gone outside besides their little slow dance. And that Agatha slept on cotton sheets that needed to be wash. The whole house smelled like sex and candles. She wasn’t exactly behaving like Mr. Bela Lugosi.

“Hmm, I’m not a vampire.”

“No? The fang marks on my ass say otherwise Harkness! I thought you couldn’t lie to your mate!” One of Aggie’s hands squeezed your ass as she was strong enough to balance you with on arm. You laughed as she kissed down your throat.

“I’m not a vampire, Bunny. I’m your vampire.” Agatha let her canines extend, and you moaned, and Aggie placed your feet back on the floor. And you leaned forward, her body insticitvely leaned with you. You couldn’t help but bend over and hump your ass against her crouch. Agatha moaned in delight at your submission.

“Mine huh? My very own vampire?” Your voice is breathy and Agatha loves it as her hand comes around to cup your pussy finding you always wet for her.

“All yours, forever.” Agatha cements her promise by pushing a finger inside you and your hips jump, trying to sink deeper. “I’ll never get enough of you, I got you my love. Sink into me.” Agatha says as she terrorizes you with one finger pushing against your G-spot.

Agatha stopped and you cried in desperation but Aggie was quick to pull out and push you behind her.

Just as the door flew open.

“OYE! WE GOTTA TALK!” Rio screamed and then smirked as soon as she saw Agatha very naked in the middle of house.

Agatha’s hand glowed purple and she went to blow Rio the fuck away. But Lilia came behind her.

“DON’T FIGHT! You two are in danger! Oh no clothes, you aren’t wearing clothes-” Lilia threw her hand over her eyes.

You were hiding behind Agatha, who was blocking you from everyone.

“GET THE FUCK OUT!” Agatha snarled but you wrapped an arm around her stomach. Tilting one head to look at the two of them. You heard Alice, Jen, and Billy outside and knew their scent for some reason now.

“We got trouble coming your way my love. Do us a favor, move to the side. I want to see.” Rio tried to look around Agatha to see your naked body and Agatha sneered and her magic flared as she went to walk forward.

“Um hi, Rio and… Lilia it’s good to see you. Um, can you want here for a minute for us to get dressed?”

Rio seemed to enjoy you stopping at her name as she licked her lips at the visual of you and Agatha naked.

“I’ll help you get dressed gorgeous.” Rio teased and blew you a kiss and Agatha lost her mind. Purple flying from her fingers, she used her magic like a wrecking ball, Rio was thrown against the front widows which shattered.

You now saw the rest of the coven looking shocked as Rio cackled and got up brushing the broken glass off her body.

“You used to share!”

“LOOK AT HER ONE MORE TIME, RIO! I’LL MAKE YOU WISH YOU COULD DIE!” Agatha seethed and went to step forward again, but she realized you would be on full display, and her gaze snapped to Rio, who looked positively turned on.

“Aggie no!” You say and realize the whole coven is seeing you naked. And all of your bites..all over your naked body. You panic and Agatha quickly grab the throw blanket from the floor and wraps it around you. Once the vampire is happy you are covered she decides now is the time to kill Rio. Having no issue being on display herself. Turning she bares her fangs.

One of her neighbors walks by and then runs back to their garage.

“OH GOD WHY IS AGATHA NAKED!” Billy shouts and Jen is quick to turn him around so he can’t see.

“The fuck is going on!” Alice yells at Lilia. Who still has her hand over her eyes so she can’t see.

“I SAW HER NAKED LOVE! AND LET ME TELL YOU WHAT! DADDY LIKES!” Rio shouts and you grab Agatha’s arm to stop her from leaving the living room.

“Agatha STOP!”

Agatha’s body responded instantly to you.

And Rio laughed as you and Agatha stared at each other.

“Look who found her commanding voice, Agatha oh sweetie, your mates commanding voice makes me wet!” Rio taunts but this time Agatha doesn’t growl or threaten and her hands stop glowing purple.

“Aggie I’m sorry. Please don’t be mad!” You instantly feel terrible, Agatha had told you that you both could command each other. But you hadn’t thought you ever would.

“No, no don’t be sorry, I didn’t..Did I scare you Bunny?” Agatha whispered the question hoping no one else could hear her.

“Can we please go get dressed and then..” You waive to the mess of her coven. Aggie turns to glare at Jen and Alice before she wraps her arm around your waist and guides you up the stairs.

You both dress upstairs and you don’t say anything. Feeling upset at the end of your happy little blood bubble of sex and kisses. It seemed your honeymoon was over.

Agatha kept watching you as you dressed.

“Bunny are you alright?” Agatha said and you didn’t understand what she was asking. Your living room was in shambles, the front widow was shattered and you both were in some kind of trouble. Why would you be?

“Aggie, let’s just get this over with ok? Just please don’t kill anyone, and…don’t raise to Rio’s taunting. She’s just upset-”

“You are worried about Rio!” Agatha was so jealous at your words and you rolled your eyes.

“I am worried about you!” You say but she doesn’t buy it and you put your hair up. Agatha’s eyes fall to the many fang puncture marks and varying dark purple bruises. You looked like you’d been fucking a vampire for a month straight, you looked positively battered. And something about that made Agatha more honry than ashamed. The idea of Rio seeing you covered love bites also made Agatha happy.

You walked towards the door and Aggie used her speed to cut in front of you and put her arm out to stop you leaving.

“Fangs, the faster we talk the quicker we can go back to our book club.” You say but it doesn’t reach your eyes.

“My Angel, are you sure you are ok..physically ok?”

“I’m immortal, what do you mean?” You say curiously but Jen yells for you guys to ‘stop fucking and come down here.’

You bend down to avoid Agatha’s arm and you go down the stairs, with Agatha hot on your heels. Not about to be more than a foot away from you at all times.

When you came back down Alice was telling Billy how to fix the window with his magic and Jen was bickering with Alice on how to tell him to fix it.

Lilia seemed relieved you were down.

“Ok, great get in the car.” Lilia said and the coven quickly piled out of the house.

Agatha grabbed your arm before you even moved a little.

“Fuck you, no we aren’t going anywhere!”

“SWORD and S.H.I.E.L.D are having a pissing match on who has jurisdiction over a vampire witch. They want you Agatha. And they found out you have a girlfriend. A.K.A The perfect bargaining chip. Now move your asses!” Jen scolded from the doorway and Agatha held your hand and you saw her fighting what to do. You reach across to the side table. Grabbing a pair of black Raybands, you push the sunglasses over Agatha’s face. It is all the communication you two need and Aggie walked you out of the house.

Agatha didn’t love the sun, but she didn’t sparkle of blow into smitherines. So she just felt hot and uncomfortable. Her sunglasses helped a little.

You took two separate cars. Rio and Lilia in one and the rest of you in with the SUV.

Billy borrowed his dad’s range rover and you sat pressed against Agatha as the car was packed. Billy talked about how much he missed you and Agatha non stop as Alice drove the car to a motel across state lines.

Jen paid in cash after arguing that she shouldn’t have to pay and why is she the only one with money.

But quickly you were stuffed into the motel dingy room. You walked over to the bed and laid down. Billy was quick to grab the remote and turn on the TV.

Agatha gracefully sat on the edge of the bed next to you, before leaning against the gross headboard. She eyed you and ached to reach out and touch you.

Billy clicked to a station and the loud pornographic moan shook the coven, as Jen closed the door loudly behind her.

The screen came alive with a girl showing her tits. It loudly played a porn package ad and Rio tilted her head to the side and smirked at the moaning.

“Technology really was a fun invention, you guys made porn with it!”

Alice grabs the remote from the teenager. “No, whatever that was, no!” She says, and he looks grossed out. Evidently straight sex wasn’t as fun to watch for the gay teen; you couldn’t help but agree.

You looked over at Lilia as she found the big armchair in the corner and plopped down. Sighing like today was already exhausting.

“How’s Odin?” You asked missing him so much. He hadn’t warmed up to Agatha and you two decided you needed a bit of alone time without a growing dog around. She smiled at your question.

But you were supposed to be getting him back tomorrow.

“He misses his Mama. But Alice has been taking him on long walks, and Billy won’t stop feeding him human food. So he’s well loved.” Lilia said and you grinned warmly at the witch.

“You ok?” She asks, and you close your eyes.

“Why does everyone keep asking me that?”

Rio spoke now.

“Alright, Agatha’s coven, go get some food for the cute girl. She’s low blood sugar.” Rio directed at you and Agatha felt anger. But she bent down and put her nose to your neck to sniff. Sure enough you were off in your levels, but Agatha swore something else was different.

“I mean you look like you walked out of an SVU episode with all those bruises. So we should get you some protein.” Jen said with genuine concern for you. You kept your eyes closed and tried to ground yourself.

You didn’t need to open your eyes to know Agatha was worrying about you.

“There was a cheeseburger place on the other side of the highway?” Billy says and Agatha gives them your order. You don’t even have to say anything.

“Make it two of those.” Rio says and Alice looks confused.

“You want a burger?”

“No, she needs two burgers.” Rio states and you don’t open your eyes but you know Agatha is about to fuck Rio up.

“I’ll drive. Billy we gotta get you home before sunset.”

“Can’t I stay longer?” Billy eyes you almost passed out on the bed and Agatha looking scared for you.

“No kid, all we need is your mortal parents to go poking around.” Agatha told the teen.

“Thanks for coming though Billy.” You said the other part of what you know Agatha wanted to say, but couldn’t let her mask slip to admit.

“We’re a coven.” He says and you open one eye to see his loving gaze. It heats the back of your neck.

“Billy I don’t have magic.” You say but as you look around the room, they’re all looking at you.

“Blessing and burdens alike kiddo.” Lilia says and you aren’t sure what family feels like but it must be this.

You hadn’t had this many people care about you…welll since maybe ever.

“I..” You start but Jen saves you from this moment. Not liking emotional vulnerability with this many people.

“Rio will stay, because I don’t want to know what she’s like in a drive thru line. Alice drives because I hate that thing, and Lilia you drop off Bily. Take his dads car back. Ok, now break!” Jen says like it’s a team meeting.

They pille out but Billy smiles sadly at you and you give him the same smile back. He lingers on Agatha and you know he misses her. Lilia cuts across the motel floor and grabs your sock covered foot affectionately before grabbing the teens shoulders and taking him out of the motel.

Rio waits until they all leave to come sit on the end of the bed. She’s criss crossed and staring at you and you close your eyes again.

Agatha growls a lot like Odin would have. Not liking how close Rio was sitting to you.

“Easy Bats, I missed her. You sure sucked her a lot.” Rio let’s the sexual inuedndo sit there and Aggie bares her fangs at her ex.

“I have a head ache, can you two not right now?” You whimper in uncomfortably.

To your surprise they actually stop.

“Rio…” Agatha says and you open your eyes at the sound, the change in your vampire's tone. And Rio doesn’t immediately tease. “Is something wrong with her? She smells..different and I feel..different. And…Rio…if she’s in trouble or if she’s…if she’s sick.”

You open your eyes and see Agatha give the same frightened look she gave in the woods as she begged Rio not to take Nicky. You grabbed her arm trying to soothe her and she just winces in pain at the very idea of you not spending forever with her.

And it was silent for a minute.

Before Rio started to laugh full out. Agatha looks positively murderous.

“Oh man, you should see your face. No, fuck Agatha. You gotta stop waiting for the worst to happen. This was destined. I knew that back then too. You were meant to fall in love with her cute ass. I shouldn’t fucking laugh but…You are being so dense right now. You are a vampire for a month and all your witch training just falls out of your head?”

Rio looks at you and smirks. But she drops the look when you don’t laugh with her.

But Rio lets her eyes rake up your body with hunger.

“You must fuck really good bloody valentine.” Rio teases and Agatha’s nails cut through the blanket under her angry hands.

“I’m fine! I feel fine!” You defend because they’re talking like you aren’t here.

“I’ve been drinking her blood for a month, something isn’t right. I thought …I thought I would be able to control the blood lust after the first drink…” Agatha says like she’s stuck having to talk to Rio about this. Knowing no one else would understand and her embarrassment and dislike of Rio, was not stronger than her need to keep you safe and alive.

“Do I need to spell it out for you?”

Rio waits as Agatha stares.

“You’ve been together a month…you were a witch…the moons change…what else changes every month Dracula?”

It dawns on you but Agatha still doesn’t get it.

“Rio, can you wait outside?” You ask politely and Rio chuckles.

“Are you serious? You aren’t gonna let me play sweetness? I’ll even let you try to top me.” Rio flirts and Agatha’s about to lunge and you grab her arm.

“Fine, only because you are so adorable. But I have really good hearing, still make sure you are extra loud!” Rio gets off the bed and goes to the door and takes one of the motel chairs and closes the door behind you. You know she’s standing guard and it makes you feel better. Knowing the rest of the coven won’t walk back in.

“Hey fangs,” You run your hands up and down Agatha’s arms and she turns to you, so much worry and heartache in her eyes. You can’t stand it, you are going to end her pain but she doesn’t let you talk.

“Bunny, something is wrong. You smell….”

“Bad?” You grimaced and tried to move away from her but she grabbed your hips and pressed against your body, not all the way on top of you. But trapping you against her.

“No, you smell sweeter than before. And…”

“And?” You felt like you were talking to the wolf as little red ridinghood. ‘Oh what big teeth you have’ and she’d reply ‘the better to each you with my dear.��

“And I feel…like I did that night in the woods. Like I haven’t been drinking your blood for a month…Like I might hurt you Bun…You smell so good and I just want to devour you and….” Agatha’s fangs extended and she pushed off of you and onto her back to put distance between you two.

She put both hands over her face and you got ontop of her and she groaned in need but didn’t reach out and touch you.

You felt her body for the first time since the night in the woods not relax against your own.

“Aggie.”

“Bunny, I don’t think you should touch me right now.”

She said and your heart broke. She’s never rejected you before, or turned you away. This was new.

“Do you not want me to touch you?” Your voice broke and Agatha heard it of course she did and she moved her hands to see hurt in your face. Her hands reached out to your hips but you were upset and you tried to get off her.

“Stop, that’s not what-”

“You don’t want me.” The two of you heard the second part of your upset ‘just like the rest.’ You moved to get off of her and her hold on you tightens.

“Don’t ever say that, how can you think that.”

“You don’t love me Agatha.” You feel tears start to come out, and you know why, but you wish you could stop it. The words hurt you but you know it’s not true, but they shatter Agatha.

“STOP.”

Your neck falls to the side and Agatha feels bad for using her voice on you.

“Fuck, that’s not what I- Angel please. I wait-” The smell filled Agathas nose and you realized she just figured it out.

“Um..” You couldn’t begin to explain the look on Agatha’s face.

“Are you bleeding, are you hurt?”

“I got my period Agatha.”

“Oh….Oh.” Agatha said and you smiled at her clear arousal.

“I’ll ask Rio if she can go to the front desk and see if they have tampons.” You try to get off of Agatha’s body but she flips you so you are on your back and she’s still in between your legs. And she’s holding you too tight.

Her eyes are losing their color, turning dark with arousal. One hand goes to your stomach to hold you, to feel the blood there.

“No, no, don’t. Don’t waste it.”

You arch an eyebrow, um.

“You want….”

Agatha doesn’t have the patience to explain it as she moves with vampire speed to rip your jeans off and your underwear. She attaches her mouth to your pussy and sucks and licks. You reach out to grab her.

“Fangs it’s dirty blo- oh fuck.” You shudder as she drinks from you. You shiver and quake instantly. Agatha doesn’t go easy on you. Even though your cunt is sensitive from your period.

Oh no.

Agatha has blood lust. She couldn’t stop if she wanted to.

She drinks the blood from you and you hump her face over and over. The blood smearing on her cheeks. But she feasts with no sign of stopping.

After you cum the first time you try to tap her. Try to give yourself a rest. But Agatha’s no longer there. Her mind is in a frenzie and all she can do is drink.

Her canines every now and then can be felt as she moves her tongue around your labia. It’s gasping and squirming. You cum three more times and you feel too sensitive. And you are shrieking at her continuous attack.

You feel weird all of a sudden and that’s when the door opens.

You feel achey and sleepy. But the sound of the door jerks you awake.

“Ok! No more! She needs a break Bats.” Rio says tossing the brown bag onto the bed. Agatha doesn’t detach and Rio groans.

But comes over and puts Agatha in a headlock. Yanking her away from your pussy. You didn’t know how to feel about all of it.

But Agatha growled and slashed her sharp nails against Rios skin. But it did no damage.

“She needs to eat- stop! Fuck you are stubborn. Vampires are fucking annoying. Aggie stop!” Rio shouted at your girlfriend who was fighting against Death. “Listen to me! Oh fuck come on!” Rio was frustrated as Agatha’s fingers glowed and she worked to get Rio the fuck away.

“Start eating. I’ll wrestle -fuck come on!” Rio shouted as Agatha used her purple to try and snap Deaths fingers and legs.

“Should I go to the bathroom? Lock the door?” You panted and grabbed the brown bag.

In Agatha’s bloody haze she heard your words and growled and but Rios arm tearing it open.

“Fuck! No, don’t do that. She can’t be that far from you. And neither can you, and besides. Ags will just tear the door off.” Rio closed her eyes and focused on her powers. And Agatha fought her magic hold.

“Eat your food. Aggie you can have your little juice box back when she’s got some strength!” Rio stated and kicked Agatha in the back of the knees so the two of them were on the floor.

You opened the brown bag and pulled out two cheeseburgers and bit into the first one.

It was so good. And you were so hungry. You ate as fast as you could without choking. Listening to the background noise of Agatha growling and the two of them grunting as they fought on the gross motel carpet floor.

Every now and then Rio would shout “fuck you! Don’t bite me!” But you just kept shoving food into your mouth.

You finished the first burger and opened the second wrapper for the next burger.

You ignored the sticky blood and vampire saliva in between your legs.

When you were halfway through the second burger you asked Rio if she was ok.

“Oh yeah Peaches! Don’t worry about Daddy!” Rio said but the sound of someone being punched rang out and you weren’t sure who you were more concerned about.

You finished the food and as if on cue. Agatha crawled up the bed on her hands and knees and back to your pussy and you moaned the second her tongue moved into your cunt.

The two of them looking like they’d just left a bar fight. Clothes were ripped, but physically they both healed so fast no one was even bleeding.

You eyed Rio as you felt embarrassed at her seeing you bitting your lip and moaning.

She hesitated for a moment, and you wondered what she was thinking.

But you moaned again as Agatha moved her tongue in and out of your hole. The noises of your wet cunt echoed in the room.

Rios gaze fell to Agatha’s mouth and then to your face. Before she turned around and walked out of the room.

Your hands fell to Agatha’s head to hold on. Your inner thighs shook at the intensity of her muscle moving inside you.

Rio opened the door again holding a soda. She walked over and bent the straw for you to take a drink.

Agatha seemed unaware she was even still here. Too far gone it seemed.

You whimpered but chugged the soda as you were so thirst.

“Listen peaches, if you want me to leave. I’ll go. But I think Agatha’s first time with you on your period might get rough. Will you let me stay?”

You hesitated looking down at Agatha as she moaned and growled and fucked you without a care in the world.

“I don’t want you to be uncomfortable. I know Agatha will be mad. But she will be more mad if she hurts you. Agatha would never forgive herself.” Rio reasoned and then her eyes fell down to your lips.

“That’s- t-tthe only reason?” You panted close to cuming again.

“No. It’s not the only reason. But it’s the one I figured you’d say yes to.” Rio said honestly and you laughed but it was cut off with a gasp as Agatha hit your G-spot.

Rio put the soda down and put both knees on the bed. But she waited and you reached one hand out and grabbed her hand.

It was all Rio needed. She laid down and held your hand as you came again and again and again.

Rio pushed the hair out of your face and kissed your forehead every few minutes. She’d whisper ‘good job Peaches. Give her one more, you can do it. You are doing so good.’

You fell asleep at one point but woke up to another orgasm and you screamed. Rio was right there and she kissed your cheek this time.

“Peaches you are back. You are ok. It’s all ok.”

You came and yelled and shook as you felt more wetness pool out of you and into Agatha’s mouth.

“W-why do you call me that?” You asked trying to break your mind from the overstimulation of your twenty third orgasm was it?

“Oh, well that’s easy. You are so sweet. And Agatha bites into you and you are delicious and juicy. Always running down her chin. Just like a peach. I used to make them grow you know?”

“T-tell me about it.” You gasp as your ass lifts off the bed and Agatha is quick to push you back down.

“Well I’m the original green witch. You know that, so I..I get bored sometimes. Sorta..lonely you know? And so one day I decided to make something instead of taking….you need me to put her in a head lock again?”

You shake your head no, it went back to feeling good.

“Keep talking-g.” You stutter out and Rio rubs the back of your joined hands.

“Ok, well I knew the whole apple thing. And Lilith was sorta moody. So I made a peach. I remember tasting it for the first time. Pure joy, so much fun, an explosive flavor, and it lingered. Like the taste of the peach would never leave. You remind me of that..” Rio admitted and you scrunched your eyebrows in confusion.

But then Agatha pushed her tongue further and you felt her fangs against your sensitive opening and you came again.

“FUCK FUCK OH FUCK!” You scream and Rio kisses your cheek and chin. And you don’t think it’s for you now.

But you shiver and come down from your orgasm only for Agatha to lick your labia up and down off Al the blood that just came out.

“You-u don’t mean that.” You say thinking Rio is bluffing and just being kind.

“I do though, I don’t have any reason to lie. And Agatha can’t hurt me right now. She’s too busy…Besides I couldn’t call you Bunny. Agatha already had dibs on that.” Rio laughs but you don’t think it’s because she finds it funny. You think it’s that she feels exposed.

“R-Rio you just want Agatha. And that’s ok, but don’t tr-ry and man-manipulate me.” You tell her and Rios face flinches just a little.

“I’m not.”

You cry out and close your eyes as Agatha re enters your cunt. Her tongue rubbing against your walls like she has never eaten before.

“I k-know your history. I k-know you love her. I-I’m not your way back in. I t-told Aggie she needs to f-forgive you.” You say and then you feel the orgasm coming again. You lost count of how many now.

“That’s not what this is Peaches. I swear.” Rio tries to promise but you don’t know if you believed her.

You cum again and black out once more.

When you wake up again Agatha is laying with her mouth pressed against your neck. But you two aren’t alone.

You are laying against Rios chest. She’s holding you and keeping watch. Not just of the outside getting in, but of Agatha draining you of all your blood.

You shift a little in your sleep and she puts a cool hand on your forehead. You don’t move away from her now.

Agatha’s hold on your body tightens too.

You don’t understand why Agatha’s sleeping. But you figure Rio must have done something.

You don’t have time to think more as Rio kisses your forehead and you fall back asleep.

#fanfic #fanfiction #kathryn hahn #ao3 fanfic #agatha all along #kathryn hahn x reader #agatha harkness x reader #audrey plaza #rio x reader x agatha #agatha all along fanfic #Rio x reader

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faestunna · 2 days ago

Note

i am a SUCKER for soft domestic headcanons, so i’m intrigued to know what you think for stack!!

PAIRING: elias (stack) moore x vampire!reader

WARNINGS: modern!elias, vampirism (blood, death), just fluff :)

A/N: waittt cus idt i’ve seen any elias/stack fluff so im all for this!! i kept it as vampire!stack and vampire!reader in modern times, hope that’s okay!

masterlist

Now, Elias may play around a lot, but he is, above all else, a gentleman.

First date? It may be basic, but he’ll take you to one of the finest restaurants in the city while you wear a new dress he just bought for you. That man spoils you.

He can’t bring himself to go back to Chicago after he last saw Sammie play, but he’ll tell you all sorts of stories about Capone and managing to fool both of the most notorious gangs in town.

At first, he doesn’t talk much about Elijah. Refers to him as Smoke, and you initially assume it was a business partner, but once you’re close enough, he tells you everything about that fateful night.

How he still sees Elijah’s face in his dreams. How he can’t even see his own brother’s face in his reflection anymore. How the last thing he has of him is a faded photograph.

But the two of you have a sweet life in the city. You’ve got a shared apartment that you’ve turned into the perfect sanctuary.

It’s definitely hard living away from the sun, but that just means that the daytime gives you two an entire day in bed. The black-out curtains drawn closed, maybe a candle or two lit for comfort, and the two of you lazily lounging in between the sheets.

I don’t even have to say where that leads to…

And since he is a gentleman, he has a habit of bringing home dinner. He’ll be gone for around an hour or so, but then a knock rings at your door.

“How’d you get this one?” You’ll ask quietly as he leads your unsuspecting guess to the kitchen.

He never has a real answer. Always just give you that grin and says, “Told ‘em I got a real pretty woman at home for them to meet.” You don’t question him much after that.

Elias is a gentleman!! Meals will usually mean there’s a big mess in the kitchen, but he’ll always insist, “Nuh-uh, baby. You go get cleaned up, I’ll take care of this.” One steaming shower later, and you come back to a nearly pristine place.

Naturally, nighttime is your favorite with him. It’s the only chance you two can freely roam, and most of the time, you don’t even pay any mind to the delicious scents of passerby’s. “You smell that?” You ask with a hungry smile, but the two of you have been around long enough to control yourselves.

And Elias loves to see you in the moonlight. He’d burn the whole city to see you in the sun, but he can settle for the silvery glow against your skin. The two of you casually stroll the streets, hand in hand, in sweet silence.

Sometimes, you’ll be out the whole night. There’ll hardly be anyone else around, apart from a few taxis and teenagers breaking curfew.

It’s a sweet life you have together. It may not be ideal to most, and, sure—it can get a little lonely not having anyone else—but at the end of the day, you know in your soul that he’s all you need.

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shellyhughes · 1 day ago

Text

YOUR TASTE

˚₊‧꒰ა vampire quinn hughes x reader ໒꒱ ‧₊˚

- just gonna leave a note that this isnt period sex cause someone said it kinda comes off that way. theres no period blood in this !!!! -

type : oneshot

words : 2265

rating : explicit for / smut

SUMMARY: quinn comes to visit you late at night after smelling blood from your body.

Your eyes shoot open in a terrible panic. Another ‘bad dream’. The soft mauve floral sheets you picked out while thrifting wrap around your body whole. The sunshine lemon oil diffuser is just now slowly shutting off after being on all night, and the curtains fly up and down against the cool breeze from your open window. And he can see it all. Right now. That’s his special ability, as far as you know. All that really matters is who he chooses to watch. And you’re not trying to be a peacock or anything, but you just know he’s watching you right now. If you weren’t sort of into it, you would go to the police - but then again, what are the police supposed to do? - Quinn is a vampire super athlete. Okay, that’s an over-exaggeration. But, he is really strong.

Leaning over to your bedside table, your hands clamp around a glass of water you had placed there earlier in preparation for this exact event. Your nightgown is loose - a lilac, silky, whorish little thing you only wear to free your boobs from the expectations that the patriarchy set in place about bras - and you also feel cute as hell in it. With your free hand, you pull out the beaded scrunchie that had been in your hair practically all night, and the bouncy, clean hair falls to your shoulders quickly. You’re never going to get any sleep at this rate. Jesus, just knowing that Quinn is watching you right now. Knowing deep down that you’re only wearing this lingerie to bed and this gloss on your lips because he’s using his powers to watch you gets you so wet.

Your nipples are perking up against the thin fabric as your fingers travel down to the wetness slowly but surely beginning to pool up in your panties. You almost want to call for him, he’d definitely hear you. He’d definitely come. Even if it’s the most humiliating thing to admit - that he’s been watching you for days, probably masturbating while watching you hit your climax against one of your fluffy pillows. You flick a nail against your pink, throbbing bud and let out a breathy, wispy whimper. Your knees spread open like second nature, like you totally haven’t been pretending to have nightmares just to catch Quinn off guard while he’s watching you sleep.

Another moan drifts from your pursed lips as you continue to rub your angry clit, you want more! Now! Sliding a finger into your pulsing pussy, you bite your lip just enough to draw some blood. As soon as you do it, you realize what’s about to happen. In just one second, he’s in your room. You squeeze your legs together and lick the blood from your bottom lip quickly. Play innocent, you plan in your head.

“Wh-what are you doing here?” You yelp, pulling the blankets over your bare legs.

He stays silent. His eyes are grey and tired. He’s tired. He’s in pain, from what it looks like. You’ve never seen him so… broken down. Maybe he doesn’t show it for a reason. But, right now, he’s completely open. You don’t fully understand the relationship between you and Quinn, it’s very complicated. You two have known each other for years, when he told you he was a vampire, you didn’t judge. But, these past few months, jesus - and now he’s in your room, standing over you with such a struggle in his facial expression.

“Quinn.” You say, your voice laced with seriousness. “What are you doing in my room?”

“I…” He starts, his brows furrowing. “I smelt blood. Thought someone hurt you.”

You nod, easing back into a comfortable position. He’s not gonna hurt you. Quinn is a friend. “I-I’m fine.” you stutter out.

His eyes stay on you, intense as ever. He sits next to you, the bed creaking gently, “Your heart is racing.”

“Yeah,” you giggle weakly, “Sorry.”

“No. I like the sound. It’s my favourite sound.”

There’s a beat of silence between the two of you. His presence is cold and nerve-wracking but also… soft - in a way? He’s a protector. Even the slight drop of blood from your lips had him running.

“Speaking of…” he broke the quiet. “I am uh- a little thirsty right now - been a few days. Could I…?”

It’s out of nowhere. You’re sort of taken aback. This is either desperation or something much deeper. Either he’s just really thirsty or… or the mere scent of your blood had him so excited, he came all the way here just for a taste.

Quinn realizes what he said and almost chuckles. “You know what? - sorry I’m being weird. I’ll go.”

“No. Wait.” your cold, slender fingers wrap around his wrist. “You can.”

You feel his gaze picking you apart, probably listening to every blood vessel, every drop of sweat, every swallow that went through your body. His eyes turn dark, he sits on the bed, facing you. He begins to prepare you, running his fingers along your forearm while trying to find a decent spot to use his fangs.

“You sure?” he asks.

“Uh - yeah,” you answer, a lump in your throat, “Does it hurt?”

“Well, uh, I wouldn’t know. But, I was told that it’s tingly… and a little uncomfortable.” he tries to keep his eyes down, but then, he notices your shift on the bed. “I can just find someone else if you—”

“No, no, you’re my friend. I trust you.” You get out quickly, tugging at your forearm to refocus him.

With a tiny nod, Quinn lowers his face to your skin. Before he even thinks about putting his teeth in, he begins to lick around the spot he’s going to bite into, “Just moistening it… a little. Helps my fangs. - I might be sucking for a while so maybe j-just talk about something to occupy yourself while I… do the thing.”

He seems to know so much about this, you think, shutting your eyes and trying to ignore the terrifying flutter in your tummy, “This won't turn me, right?” you say, half-joking, but also half-curious. Like, you know that he knows what he’s doing. That he would never turn you on purpose. But, there’s a small fear that maybe this will turn you.

“No, no,” he reassures. “Not unless you want.”

“I’ll pass for now.”

That gets a smile out of him and you’re proud of yourself for getting this sad cat to smirk, “What were you doing to get that bloody lip anyways?” he asks, then, without much warning, he slides his fangs into the poor veins of your right arm.

“Uh-” You almost moan out in a strange, draining tone. Your eyes are permanently resting as he feeds on you, your breaths are slow but loud and harsh as you adjust to a feeling that you’ve never quite felt before.

There’s a clicky, little suckling sound coming from the teeth deep inside you as you try to gather your thoughts. It’s just too much. You can’t even decide if it feels bad or not—it just… feels. After some time, you feel him get stuck in a lot and you have to flex your fist to get him out of it. When it doesn’t go away, he pulls his teeth out gently and pants, looking up at you.

“You never said what you were… doing,” he pants out, licking the blood from his pink lips. “Before… I got here.”

You swallow. “You really wanna know?”

He nods.

“I think you already know.” You whisper, your face turning red as you admit it—yes, I know you’ve been watching me.

His face didn’t turn red, but it probably would have if he could create heat. Instead, Quinn just places his hands over his eyes and tries to hide from this fact. It’s kind of cute to you, that he truly had no idea that you already knew. “Did you finish?” he asks under his breath.

You try to control the heart in your chest but it drops anyways - and you know he hears it, with the way his eyes flutter. Your thighs rub together awkwardly and instead of answering, you just shake your head.

“Can I…” he starts, leaning in. He’s so fucking awkward and you love it. “Can I taste it? It smells good.”

Your breath hitches involuntarily, your legs shake and you're so embarrassed you could die. “Quinn, jeez,” you sigh bashfully, trying to escape this moment but you know that you wanna stay.

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispers, his hand finding your collarbone as he brushes your fluffy hair out of the way, “You’re just… your scent… it’s something new.”

After some time, you lay against your and very shyly open your legs back up for him to see. A pretty little stain soaks into your white panties as he takes in the sight below him. His breathing speeds up, he slides your underwear off quickly, almost primal. Like this isn’t really him anymore. Just the vampire. Either way, you feel a tight muscled tongue stroke quickly against your clit - you whine loudly, wrapping your calves around his neck, pulling him in.

His tongue slides into your pussy hole, he doesn’t stop. He’s practically making out with your pussy like it’s his one true love, maybe it is, to him. He even makes sure to continue to let his curved nose brush against your clitoris as he finds a good pace to go at to edge you just enough. He wants this done right. He wants this drawn out - but, only because he knows how good it’ll feel for you if it’s done this way. Your folds wiggle around at the pressure of his tongue moving up and down, never stopping.

Quinn releases for a moment, breathing against your bare thigh. And in this short moment, he begins to press gentle kisses to your sweaty, warm skin, watching the shaved pussy drip, “You taste like an angel...” he commented, diving back in.

Your head rolls back in euphoria. His tongue is magic and you wonder why this has never happened before. Maybe you were just always scared of him or something - scared of how violent he could get. He’s a monster, after all. But, this isn’t violent. Not even close to violent. This is gentle, this is safe, this is sensitive. Then again, Quinn could probably do anything to you right now and you’d let him.

And that is proven to be true when falls back from your pussy again and hums softly, “I’m still thirsty,” he says it like a statement, but it’s a question. And when he begins to rub his cold fingers around your bare thigh, you know what he wants.

“Take more…” you manage to get out after being quiet for far too long, pressing your soft thigh against his lips.

He presses another few kisses before digging his fangs in. It doesn’t hurt as much as it did the first time, maybe because your limb was more thick and filled here. But, he loved it. He’s not even hiding the grunts anymore. He feeds for a good minute before you pull him off by his hair, gently, of course. “I’m a little dizzy…” you say.

“Sorry,” he murmurs, going back to pleasuring you. It’s almost like you two are taking turns. But, you’re first, always.

Your head is light and you can’t tell if it’s from the loss of blood or from the tongue assaulting your pussy right now. Maybe both.

“I listen to you every night… you sound so beautiful,” Quinn says. He puckers his lips around your clit and suckles deeply.

“Ah! - oh my - ah!” If you roll your head back any more, it’s gonna snap off. It’s like you’re pulling away but not truly, you want to stay, shivering at his touch.

His tongue slides back in deep, reaching and reaching for that g-spot but it’s just not long enough. - Not like it matters, though. This is enough to send you over the edge anyways. His hands find your breasts, massaging and running over your hardened nipples before squeezing them. You then remember what he had said earlier - your heartbeat, his favourite sound. He’s also probably trying to make your heart go faster, overstimulating you to the edge. Jesus.

He buries his face deeper, muffling something, - you sort of catch it, “Cumn imn my moufth… wanna taste you…”

It gets you so fucking wet. You nod, beginning to grind your hips around his head just like you used to do to those pillows - depraved and alone. But now - free and wanted. His tongue was yours at this moment. Yours to release yourself on. And you sure did. You make a high-pitched whine as you hit your climax - white cum leaking out as you snatch his pretty, dark hair and continue to finish yourself on his lips. He sucks and swallows every little bit, he doesn’t lose a single bit. He’s addicted to you.

“Quinny ah - fuck!” you slow down.

He laps his tongue one last time for good measure and lays his head on your tummy, licking his lips lovingly. “Your taste is perfect.”

You sit up on your elbows and try to reach down for his crotch, “You wanna…?”

“No… can’t really feel it… it doesn’t feel good.” he traces circles around your tummy, “Besides, I don’t wanna feel good. I just wanna taste you for the rest of my life now.”

You feel oddly claimed. But, is that such a bad thing? “That can be arranged.”

#quinn hughes #vancouver canucks #smut #x reader #quinn hughes x reader #vampire #quinn hughes smut #quinn hughes 43 #qh43 #qh43 x reader #vampire smut #hockey #hockey x reader

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wishingonjellyfish · 3 days ago

Text

When the Town Wakes ~ Part 1

ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ 1: ᴛʜᴇ ᴛᴏᴡɴ| 4.ᴋ ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ | ᴠᴀᴍᴘɪʀᴇ!ꜱᴇᴠɪᴋᴀ x ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ

synopsis: Vampire Sevika >;)

tags/warnings: vampire!sevika, human!reader, age gap, marking, tension, yearning, nsfw, blood sucking, blood, death, fingering, strap, oral

A/N: Have fun reading~

You never intended to find yourself in this quiet little town after midnight. But curiosity—foolish, relentless curiosity—had gotten the better of you.

You’d read about the town in an old, dust-covered book buried deep in the fantasy section of the library. According to its pages, the town was nothing more than a myth. It couldn’t be real.

Because if it was... then what lay hidden within it was far worse.

The streets were unnervingly quiet. No wind stirred the air, no insects chirped, and no flicker of movement caught your eye—only the hollow echo of your footsteps striking the cracked pavement.

The buildings around you leaned with age, their windows dark, some even boarded up tight.

You clutched the book closer to your chest. It felt heavier now, as if the weight of what you’d read pressed down on your shoulders, growing heavier the deeper you ventured into the town.

The book had vaguely mentioned something about undead beings—creatures that fed on any blood they could find—but nothing clearer than that.

Just riddles and cryptic phrases that made no sense… yet somehow felt all too real. The deeper you went, the thicker the air became—fog curling and swirling like a storm gathering just beyond the horizon, even though the sky above stayed eerily clear.

Your breath puffed out in white clouds, the cold August chill seeping deep into your bones. The hairs on the back of your neck prickled, a silent warning whispering from the shadows ahead.

A faint, flickering glow shone through a cracked window of what looked like an old tavern. Every instinct screamed at you to turn, to flee and never look back. But despite the alarms ringing in your head, your hand reached out.

The doorknob groaned softly under your touch. With a shiver, you twisted it; the rustling latch echoed in the stillness. The door creaked open, releasing a breath of musty air as you stepped inside.

People lounged around like they’d been there forever, like it was their home.

At the bar, an ancient figure hunched over, her silhouette illuminated by the flickering flame of a single candle resting on the worn wooden counter.

Her face remained hidden beneath a cloak, With one hand, she cradled her glass, taking small, deliberate sips, while with the other, her fingers traced strange symbols carved deep into the wood.

“Lost?” she asked, her voice low, with a hint of amusement.

Your heart pounded fiercely against your ribs, but your voice steadied as you replied, “What is this place? Why is it so silent?”

Her eyes caught the candlelight, glowing faintly. “The dead do not rest here. They watch. They wait. And soon… they will rise.”

You made your way to the bar and slid onto the empty stool beside the stranger.

“Not too smart to wander here alone,” the stranger muttered, her eyes locking onto yours. They were red—no, not just red—they burned a deep crimson, flickering like dying embers in the dark.

You set the book down and wrapped your fingers tightly around the edge of the stool, gripping it as if it could steady your racing thoughts.

“Why? What’s out there?” you asked, your voice barely steady.

The woman’s lips curled into a faint, knowing smile, fangs slightly showing.

“What’s out there doesn’t answer to day or night, life or death,” she said, her voice low and steady. “It’s a hunger—a curse that took root long ago, when this town was sealed in darkness and its souls were trapped between worlds.” She paused, her gaze never leaving yours.

“They call them the Undead. Vampires. Bloodsuckers. Neither fully alive nor truly dead. They feed on fear, on blood... on anything that still breathes.”

A cold shiver ran down your spine, but there was something in her tone—a heavy truth you couldn’t ignore. You swallowed hard. “How do you know all this? Have you seen them?”

She smirked, a flash of sharp fangs catching the candlelight, casting eerie shadows across her face.

You stumbled back off the seat, your breath hitching as the terrifying realization hit you. “Y-You’re one of them?” you stammered, shaking, words barely escaping your lips.

You tried to step back, but her hand shot out, catching your wrist with inhuman speed. Her grip wasn’t harsh—it was almost... gentle, as if holding you required no effort at all.

She leaned in, breath hot against your throat. “Say stop, and I will.”

But you didn’t—or maybe the words never formed—because when her fangs grazed your skin—sharp, impossibly sharp—you felt your breath hitch.

Before they could sink in, the tavern door slammed open.

“Sevika!” the shadowy figure shouted, voice sharp as a blade.

Sevika’s grip loosened instantly; she stepped back, eyes locked in a glare with the stranger standing in the doorway.

“What, Silco?” she muttered, sounding more annoyed than afraid.

“S-Sevika?” you mumbled under your breath, the name strange and foreign but somehow lingering on your tongue.

The man—Silco—entered with deliberate grace, each step heavy with authority rather than urgency. His coat stirred as if caught in a breeze that wasn’t there, and his single, gleaming eye locked onto you—sharp and cold, like a blade pressed to your throat.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, his voice a rasp of gravel steeped in smoke. He looked older than Sevika, more worn by time, but beneath his composed exterior was something tense, coiled—a storm barely held at bay. “You’ve touched something you don’t understand,” he continued, his gaze flicking to the book on the counter. “That book opened a door. And now you’ve unleashed something.”

The candle sputtered, the flame twisting unnaturally, casting long shadows that didn’t quite match the shapes that made them.

Your pulse thundered in your ears. Unleashed? You looked at the book again—its pages still shut, its cover worn and humming with something you hadn’t noticed before. Something alive.

“I didn’t mean to open anything,” you whispered, but even as the words left your mouth, they felt hollow.

Silco approached, his eye never leaving yours. “Intent doesn’t matter,” he said. “The town wakes now. And once it wakes, it feeds.”

Behind you, Sevika chuckled darkly, folding her arms. “Told you it was a bad idea to wander here alone.”

You backed away from the counter, heart hammering. Through the tavern window, the fog outside thickened, pulsing faintly with a reddish glow. Something moved within it—shapes without form, slow and dragging, but getting closer.

Silco turned toward the door, his hand twitching toward a blade at his hip. “They’re coming.” He looked at you once more, and there was something like pity in his gaze. “If you want to survive the night, you follow me. No more questions.”

Sevika rolled her eyes and grabbed a lantern from behind the bar. “Or don’t,” she added with a smirk. “Either way, it’s about to get loud out there.”

Another sound split the silence: a wet, scraping noise, like nails dragging across stone. It was close. Too close.

You didn’t know who to trust—if either of them could even be trusted at all—but standing still was no longer an option.

Your legs moved before your mind could catch up. You stumbled, snatching the book off the bar as you rushed after Silco, who was already pushing the tavern door open.

Sevika trailed behind, her steps unhurried.

A blast of cold, damp air slammed into your face, thick with the metallic tang of blood and something far worse—rot, maybe. Or death itself, seeping into every breath you took.

Sevika strolled after you, swinging a lantern lazily at her side. Its dim, flickering light barely cut through the thick fog curling around the street like a living thing.

The town had changed. The stillness was gone, replaced by a low, vibrating hum—no, not just a hum. A chant, rising from somewhere far beneath the ground.

“What’s happening?” you hissed, catching up to Silco.

“The barrier between the dead and the living is thinning,” he replied without looking at you. “That book of yours—it’s not just a story. It’s a key. A door.”

“A gate,” you whispered, the word freezing on your tongue.

“An entrance,” Sevika added, a wry smile tugging at her lips.

Shapes shifted in the fog—too fast, too quiet. You clutched the book tighter to your chest as if it could protect you from whatever was beginning to stir.

A sudden gust of wind tore through the street, snuffing out Sevika’s lantern in an instant. Darkness surged in, thick and absolute, swallowing even the closest shapes around you.

For one breathless moment, silence fell again—but it wasn’t the same as before. This silence was heavy, watchful, as if the town itself were holding its breath.

Then, from somewhere just ahead, a voice whispered your name.

A hand touched your back. And you nearly leapt out of your skin.

“Hey, it’s just me,” Sevika muttered, half amused by your reaction.

As the panic eased and you realized who it was, you instinctively inched closer to her. You still weren’t sure if she was trustworthy—but right now, she was solid, real, and far less terrifying than whatever else was waiting for you in the dark.

“Most people run,” she said, tilting her head slightly. “But you? You’re still here. Brave… or just stupid.”

Your heart thundered in your chest, loud enough that you were certain she could hear it—feel it, even.

She let out a low, almost teasing chuckle, the sound sliding through the darkness like a knife’s edge. ��Brave or foolish, you’re still standing,” she said, her crimson eyes flickering with something unreadable. “But tonight, you’ll have to face what you really are—because once the shadows rise fully, there’s no turning back. This town doesn’t just steal lives—it claims souls.”

The fog thickened, curling around your ankles like cold, grasping hands. A chill sank deep into your bones, and you understood, with a weight pressing down on your chest, that whatever waited in the night was going to unravel everything you thought you knew—about this place, about them, and about yourself.

Your breath hitched as the weight of the moment pressed down on you. Every instinct screamed to run, to escape the creeping darkness that seemed to pulse with a life of its own. But beneath the fear, something unexpected stirred—a quiet determination, a resolve to face whatever this cursed town would throw at you.

You weren’t sure if it was courage or desperation driving you forward, but one thing was clear: you wouldn’t be just another lost soul claimed by the night.

Something shifted in the dark and then silco’s voice sliced through the heavy silence like a blade. “Take her to your house. Now.” His words shattered whatever moment you and Sevika had shared.

Sevika faltered for just a heartbeat, then her arms wrapped firmly around your waist.

“I’m gonna pick you up, doll. Hold tight,” she murmured, lifting you effortlessly into her arms, bridal style.

“Go. Now,” Silco urged sharply, and in an instant, you and Sevika were gone—racing away from him and whatever danger lingered behind.

You could feel the rush of wind whipping past, the world blurring as you were carried swiftly into the night.

Her pace was swift, each powerful stride closing the gap between you and the lurking danger behind. The world around you blurred—the crumbling buildings, the twisting trees—but none of it mattered.

All you could feel was the steady thrum of her heart beneath your cheek and the surge of raw energy in every movement she made.

The wind tore past, ripping at your clothes and tangling your hair, yet inside her grasp, you were shielded, suspended between fear and strange comfort.

Her voice was low and urgent as she whispered in your ear, “Hold on. We won’t let them catch you.”

You tightened your grip around her neck, trusting her strength to carry you through the darkness.

The mansion appeared suddenly on the horizon, towering over the town like a silent sentinel. Moonlight bathed the house in a ghostly glow.

Sevika’s pace didn’t falter as branches whipped against your side, clawing at your skin, and leaves crackled under her boots.

“Where are you taking me?” you gasped, your voice barely audible over the pounding of your heart.

Sevika’s crimson eyes flickered in the darkness—sharp, unreadable.

“Somewhere safe. For now.”

Safe wasn’t a word you trusted—especially not here, not tonight—but you clung to her words, desperate to believe.

Suddenly, a low growl rumbled behind you. Something crashed through the underbrush, snapping branches as it barreled through the trees, shattering the fragile calm.

Sevika’s grip tightened. Her head snapped back, voice barely a whisper:

“Hold on.”

Without hesitation, she surged forward, moving even faster now—dodging twisted roots and fallen branches with ease.

For a moment, she paused just before the mansion’s towering fence. Then, without warning, you were flying over the gate, landing hard but still cradled in her arms.

She rushed up the steps and toward the front door.

“Inside,” Sevika growled, setting you down gently. “Lock the door. I’ll hold them off.”

You didn’t hesitate. Your hands trembled as you fumbled with the lock, the book slipping from your grasp and falling to the floor with a soft thud.

You slammed the door shut behind you.

Outside, the pounding grew louder. A scream pierced the night—sharp and clear. You pressed your back against the door, breathless, panting, frozen in place, too scared to move even an inch.

The door shook violently, then suddenly, silence. The kind of silence that screams.

A slow knock echoed from the other side. You froze, swallowing hard before managing to whisper,

“Who’s there?”

A voice answered—soft, but venom laced beneath every word:

“It’s just me,” Sevika grumbled.

You cracked the door open, and Sevika stepped inside, blood trailing down from a slash across her shoulder.

“They’re gone. For now.”

For a moment, panic surged through you. “You’re bleeding. Bad,” you said hoarsely, eyes locking on the deep, angry gash carved into Sevika’s shoulder.

She rolled her eyes and pushed past you with a grunt. “I’ll be fine,” she muttered, but the way her jaw clenched told a different story. Blood trickled down her arm in slow, heavy drops, dark and glistening in the dim light.

“Where’s your first aid kit?” you asked, voice taut with worry.

Sevika gave the crumbling, shadow-drenched mansion a once-over, one brow arched. “You really think a place like this keeps one neatly stocked by the fireplace?”

“This place is massive,” you countered, glancing toward the dark hallways stretching beyond. “There has to be something—we can’t just let it bleed.”

She exhaled sharply and leaned against the wall, leaving a smear of blood on the cracked plaster. “Try the cabinet by the stairs. The housekeepers usually keep things near the servants’ quarters.”

You didn’t hesitate. Sprinting across the dusty room, you tore open the warped door of a cabinet barely hanging on its hinges.

Dust billowed out like smoke—but behind it, sitting crooked on a shelf, was a rusted tin box marked with a faded red cross.

You grabbed it and rushed back.

Sevika had dropped into a worn velvet armchair, her breath even but shallow, the blood still flowing.

You fell to your knees in front of her, pried the box open, and found what you needed—gauze, a bottle of yellowing alcohol, thread, a curved needle. Everything was old, but usable.

“This might sting,” you warned, soaking a strip of cloth with shaking hands.

Sevika gave a tight smirk, her voice low and rough. “Pain and I go way

back.”

You pressed the cloth to the wound, and she didn’t even flinch.

“You could’ve left me there,” you murmured, trying to keep your focus on the blood, not her eyes.

“I know,” she said simply.

“But you didn’t,” you whispered.

A pause. Then softly—almost too soft to hear—she replied,

“No. I didn’t.”

Sevika’s gaze lingered on you as you worked, her crimson eyes softer now—less guarded. “You don’t get it. Not yet,” she murmured, voice low as her eyes followed the slight tremble in your hands while you tightened the bandage around her arm.

“That book didn’t find you by accident,” she continued. “This town… it doesn’t call the brave or the reckless. It calls the ones already cursed. The ones already lost.”

Her words hung in the still, dusty air like smoke—thick, inescapable. And as they settled in your chest, something shifted. A quiet dread curled through your ribs, unwelcome but undeniable. Maybe she was right.

Maybe whatever had broken inside you had cracked long before your feet ever touched this town’s crooked streets.

You glanced up at her. The bandages were stained now, but holding. She looked down at you in silence, and for a beat, neither of you spoke. The mansion groaned softly, its wooden bones creaking around you, settling like something just beginning to stir.

Sevika stood slowly, towering over you. Her presence filled the room, shadowed and solid. You felt small beneath her—fragile, uncertain, and suddenly very aware of how little you understood.

“What happens,” you asked, voice barely more than a breath, “when the town fully wakes?”

She didn’t answer at first. Her eyes drifted to the nearest window, where the fog pressed in like hungry fingers tapping at the glass.

“Then,” she said, her voice quieter than before, “the real nightmare begins.”

A chill ran through you, the grime and tension of the night clinging to your skin like a second layer.

“I need a shower,” you admitted, your voice rough from exhaustion and fear. Sevika glanced down at you, her expression unreadable. Before you could move, she spoke softly, “There’s a bathroom on the second floor, connected to a bedroom. You can stay there for the night. Let me show you.”

The warm water running over your skin helped wash away the grime, the blood, and the lingering chill of the night—but it did little to soothe the worries pressing at the edges of your mind, constant and unrelenting.

You stayed under the spray longer than necessary, letting the steady rhythm of the water mask the tremors shaking your hands.

Then, almost without warning, the bathroom door creaked open, and Sevika stepped inside.

The usual sharp edge in her gaze softened, replaced by something almost vulnerable. You caught her eyes tracing slowly over your bare skin, a flicker of something unreadable passing between you.

Sevika’s gaze lingered a moment longer, her crimson eyes catching the swirling steam in the dim bathroom light.

“You’re not like the others,” she murmured, voice barely more than a whisper. “There’s something inside you.”

The words hung between you—fragile, yet heavy with meaning. You met her eyes, searching for an answer you couldn’t quite grasp. Then, just as suddenly as she appeared, Sevika stepped back, closing the door softly behind her—and vanished.

Once you were done in the shower, you stepped out, steam rising and curling around your body, the warm mist clinging to your skin.

You grabbed a towel off the counter and wrapped it tightly around yourself, only then realizing you had no clothes to change into. Shyly, you stepped into the bedroom, hoping to find Sevika—but froze in surprise when she was already there, waiting just outside the bathroom door, standing silently in front of the bed.

“I need clothes,” you mumbled, cheeks flushing with embarrassment for not thinking ahead.

Her eyes lifted from the shadowed corner where she’d been brooding, flicking over you with a slow, deliberate gaze. The way the towel hugged your curves, the droplets of water tracing down your throat to your collarbone—it seemed to ignite something in her eyes. Something sharp, dangerous.

Before you could say a word, she was in front of you, closing the distance in an instant. Her gaze never wavered, locking onto yours with an intensity that sent a shiver down your spine.

She stepped closer, into your space, and instinctively, you took a step back—until your back hit the bathroom door.

There she hovered over you, holding out one of her worn shirts and a pair of loose boxers. You reached out, your fingers brushing hers as you took the clothes.

“Thanks,” you whispered, breath catching softly.

Sevika’s hand lifted slowly, fingers brushing along the line of your collarbone, deliberate and unhurried.

Her touch trailed downward, tracing the edge where the towel clung to your skin. Your breath caught in your throat as she leaned in, her face so close her nose skimmed the side of your neck.

Her breath was warm against your skin, the tension between you electric—sharp with something that felt like hunger. She lingered there, right at the hollow of your throat, as if deciding whether to bite… but she didn’t.

She just hovered, her presence overwhelming, while you stood trembling beneath her touch.

Your pulse thundered beneath your skin, so loud you were certain she could hear it—feel it. Every muscle in your body was tight, suspended in that fragile space between fear and something far more dangerous.

Sevika’s breath ghosted over your neck, slow and deliberate, her presence suffocating and magnetic all at once.

For a moment, time fractured—no mansion, no fog, no horrors clawing at the edges of the world. There was only her. Impossibly close. Devastatingly still.

Then her lips brushed just below your jaw—not quite a kiss, but something heavier. A warning. A promise.

She exhaled, warm breath skimming your skin as she pulled back just enough for your eyes to meet. Crimson. Burning. Impossible to read, but impossible to ignore.

“I could take everything from you,” she murmured, voice low and rasping. “But not tonight.”

And then she stepped away, her heat vanishing, leaving your skin cold and your breath tangled somewhere between relief—and something dangerously close to longing.

She took a step back, creating distance—but before she could get too far, you reached out and gently caught her wrist.

“Stay? Please,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

You didn’t want to be alone tonight. Not with whatever was lurking just beyond the walls of the house.

Sevika didn’t answer right away. She simply gave a small nod, then crossed the room to sit on the edge of the bed, her back turned to you.

You let out a quiet breath and dropped the towel, quickly slipping into the oversized shirt and boxers.

The fabric was soft against your skin, worn thin with time, and faintly scented with smoke—and something else you couldn’t place. Something dark.

Once you were dressed, Sevika turned to face you. Her eyes met yours, steady and unreadable. You wanted to speak, to ask the questions pressing at the edge of your thoughts—about the town, about her—but the weight of it all pinned the words in your throat.

So instead, you climbed into the bed beside her in silence.

The room suffocated beneath a veil of shadows, the dying candlelight casting twisted shapes that clawed at the walls.

Outside, the wind howled and whispered through windows, carrying faint, mournful echoes from the cursed town beyond.

Sevika’s breath was steady, even—but beneath it, tension simmered, ready to spill. Her hand brushed yours briefly—a small, deliberate touch that drew you closer, inviting you into her quiet storm.

The silence between you thickened, heavy with unspoken desire and buried fears. Somewhere deep down, you both knew this night was just the start—of surprises, of danger, and of the fragile thread binding your fates together.

#wlw #lesbian #writing #sevika #sevika arcane #sevika x reader #vampire #vampirism #sevika smut #vampire x reader

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mercurysmaelstrom · 19 hours ago

Text

The Stench of Red

pairing: Remmick x POC Reader

summary: “No amount of tears you spill is gon’ wash away the shit you chose to do.” He reached for your wrist, bringing your hand to your face. “And that smell? It ain’t goin’ away either.”

or…

Grief-stricken, your guilt manifests a punishment that only you can smell. Eventually, you find that Remmick can smell it too.

or…

You sleep with Remmick to distract yourself from your guilt, and he lets you.

part 2/2 of Swan Song

contains: vamp!reader, southern gothic themes, child death, angst, murder, grief, loneliness, alcohol-abuse, blood, smut 18+ (AFAB reader, finger sucking, oral sex, cunnilingus, blow jobs, piv sex), not very dialogue heavy, modern au.

word count: 3.5k

a/n: You don’t need to have read part 1 of this series. You might miss some light context clues, emphasis on ‘light’, but truly you wouldn’t be missing much.

The flame burned solemnly before you.

And beyond the fire escaped the rancid smell of burning flesh.

It had been nine months since the speakeasy-massacre. Nine months since you started journeying with Remmick, following where the music led you as if it were a trail of scent, marking the fingers and throats that produced each song you’d heard with red handprints. With every blood-splatter that tainted each instrument came rebirthed musicians, lively, yet hollow. And the fire that had raced around them as they played dissipated once you and Remmick sunk your teeth into their necks, siphoning the life that lived in the tunes they played.

It had been four months since the boy was turned.

The young boy whose voice sirened in you and your supposed band of vampires. The boy from a church that sat in the middle of nowhere whom you’d decided was best to keep away from. However, that didn’t stop the pink-faced fiddler out of Arizona from greedily snatching the child’s little body, stealing him away from everything he knew, ridding him of ever being able to sit on a porch with his wrinkled brown skin and gray hair, watching his grandchildren giggle as they ran around on the grass barefoot.

From then on you decided the child needed a guide while he was here; someone to trust; an adult to teach him how to discern between right and wrong. But he was a growing boy. A hungry one at that.

Eventually no one in the pack, not even you, could help satiate him, and no amount of hypocritical moral lessons were going to appease the endless pit of his appetite.

Thus, you made it your job to put him down.

Remmick didn’t intervene. As a result, no one else intervened in the boy’s rampant chase for food, no method to his undeserved madness. They didn’t intervene when you found a pistol from the front desk of an abandoned motel, and they didn’t intervene when you told them what you were going to do with it.

And so, the flame burned solemnly before you.

And beyond the fire escaped the rancid smell of burning flesh belonging to the boy who had often tugged at your sleeve, looking up at you with a youthful curiosity in his eyes.

The oboist from Utah placed a gentle hand on your shoulder from behind. “Don’t linger for too long,” she said.

Were those words of her own or Remmick’s?

Even after spending months on the road attempting to learn each unique personality of every individual you and the eldest had collected, distinguishing between who they were underneath his control never became easier.

Once she walked off, only you and Remmick remained outside on the desert floor, standing on opposite ends of the child-sized pyre a large distance away from the motel everyone else grouped in.

The translucent blood on your hands stunk, and in spite of how “clean” the boy’s murder was, gazing into the fire hadn’t tempered the rotten smell in any way. Yet you continued to watch, presently feeling the same ache you reminded yourself not to ignore.

From across the flame, Remmick’s eyes trained on you, occasionally glancing at the pulverizing body laid between yourselves.

You sensed it; it wasn’t new, being the subject of his stare. It felt like the heat of a spotlight radiating on your face when you performed on stage, and at times it made it difficult to see anyone beyond the ray.

But it didn’t feel that way now. The only spotlight that mattered was the one you casted on the burning child.

Eventually, four weeks had passed, and the stink remained. Then another four months had passed, and the stink still remained.

Making use of the hive’s eyes and ears when he wasn’t close enough to use his own, Remmick watched as you sunk into the misty smell of the boy’s flesh, the stink subsequently clotting into what resembled spoiled milk.

Through the eyes of the oboist from Utah, he noticed the empty spot beside you when everyone would crowd around the bonfire, singing and playing before the sun rose back up, your hand thoughtlessly tapping or reaching out for a vacant presence—your fingers curling in when the only thing you touched was the air; through the ears of the mandolinist from Tennessee, he heard you throw freshly emptied bottles of beer against the back of the motel, the glass shattering agonizingly as you yelled out profanities when you thought everyone was gone searching for more bodies to take; through the ears of the saxophonist from Missouri, he heard you from the motel room next door, drunkenly sobbing about a stink that would never go away, no matter how much you washed your hands; crying that you couldn’t dare touch your keyboard out of fear that the blood on your fingers would stain the plastic keys.

Perhaps that was what made it easy—letting Remmick crawl inside you. Perhaps it was why your arm eagerly wrapped behind his neck after he knocked on the door of your motel room, pulling him into your alcohol-reeked mouth before he could explain why he showed up in the first place.

Rapidly, you welcomed him in, the tepid darkness overtaking your bodies like a shadowed hand reaching out to grab the both of you, dragging you away from the red, flickering neon sign that aimlessly managed to illuminate the wasteland where the motel lonesomely lived on. When the door shut, the light outside narrowed into a red slit between the closed, white curtains, accompanying the one candle lit on your nightstand—the red and orange glowing together just enough to see the pieces of each of your anatomies that solely carried weight in this moment.

Remmick’s lips had served its purpose for now, trailing from your jaw, to your neck, to your breasts, then to your belly before opening up your legs, locking his arms around your thighs in order to pull you in close to his warm mouth, flattening his even warmer tongue, licking and sucking with the guidance of your voice.

Your pussy coated his mouth, your juices a temporary, but sufficient replacement for blood this particular night, the muffled moans from his throat easing you closer to ecstasy; a distraction you hadn’t given to yourself in too long.

Whimpering, you stared at the dark ceiling, the red light from outside softly permeating the flat surface above you. When you lowered your gaze, you found Remmick’s face between your legs, his eyes already laid thick on you; his eyes emulating the wicked glow of ember that haunted you for the past few months in the midst of the very darkness that you chose to bide in when the door—blue luminescence peaking through the slits of its four sides—was right in front of you, unlocked and ready to be opened.

You sighed, stretching a hand to Remmick’s head, tugging at his dark hair as he sucked your clit. “Shit,” you moaned as your head dropped back onto the pillow, the rhythm of your cunt grinding against his face, edging you closer to climax.

Once you did, you had no use for him anymore.

You wouldn’t even say his name as you came. Instead, you rolled off to the other side of the bed, gradually coming back down from your high, yanking the sheets back up your body to hide away what he had just seen seconds ago.

Nonetheless, he didn’t protest. He laid on your bed for half-an-hour, staring at the side of your face before shutting his eyes for a moment or two, opening them up again when he decided that he needed to leave.

In between the next time he stepped foot into your room, your inebriated frustration ensued. Again, the saxophonist next door heard you in the bathroom as you wailed about the rotten smell of your hands while you ran them under the tap water—the scarlet prints that only you could see sinisterly coagulating into gloves that were impossible to remove.

Soon you came to notice the odor alleviating when Remmick returned to your doorstep in his vest, stains of faded red seeped onto the white fabric that you tore off a minute later.

The elder’s presence didn’t make the smell disappear. The smell of rotting flesh always lingered, only now hiding under the thick aroma of sex.

His hands slithered along your body, the presumed wedding band worn on his left hand coolly dragging along the side of your thigh as you rode his cock, your hand wrapped around his neck and the other planted beside his face.

“Yeah…yeah…fuck…yeah…” he moaned, looking at you with the inner corners of his brows crinkled, his mouth hanging open at the feel of you around him. As you moved, selfishly only trying to guide yourself to an orgasm—his body simply a toy you bit your lip for—Remmick decided to grasp the sides of your hips, thrusting up into you at an angle that made him pound even deeper into your slick walls.

You yelped at the sudden action, but you welcomed it, promptly placing your hands on his knees.

As he moved in and out of you, you reached down for your nub before Remmick pushed you on your back, sweeping away your hand and replacing it with his own, rubbing your swollen clit.

“How’s that, darlin’?” He grunted, his eyes roaming all over your skin, the writhing of your body fueling his movement.

You mumbled incoherent sentences, letting out, “Shit, yeah, that…that feels good.”

Even after he came first, he continued to fuck you, his cum flooding your pussy while his hips stuttered from the overstimulation, though he enjoyed seeing you dazed below him, your spine bending and your breasts rising as you whimpered, “Fuck, I’m gonna…” as you came, your toes curling, your lips crying his name out for the first time.

The two of you laid breathless, tangled in the sheets of the bed you rarely made, Remmick’s head laid on your chest, his softened cock remaining inside of you. Your fingers lazily played in his hair, hovering down to the gold chain around his neck, fiddling with the jewelry until he raised his head.

Removing your hand from his neck, he brought it to his lips.

With your palm between your faces, the smell of sex began to wane, the wretched stink making its way up your nostrils. This time, Remmick could see the expression in your face firsthand—the look of disgust and shame that re-entered the depths of your being.

Softly, he planted kisses on your wrist, your palm, and your fingers, never averting his gaze from you.

Like that, the blood on your hands started to ink his mouth, covering his lips and tongue the way your slick did two weeks before. He proceeded keeping his mouth on your reeking hand, sucking the blood he seemed to notice from each of your fingers.

While the blood never actually left your hand, nor did the smell, there was an unusual comfort in seeing him take some of it for himself.

When he finished, he pressed his lips onto yours, his tongue entering your mouth, the bitter tang of red shared between the two of you until he pushed himself off of your body, pulling his dick out of you, cum oozing out after him.

Once you both cleaned up, Remmick left you alone again.

This time, however, you didn’t think you wanted that.

A week had passed, and even though the smell continued to cling onto you, you recognized the stink wasn’t as pungent. You wondered if the eldest returned, taking your fingers into the heat of his mouth just enough, that maybe you’d be rid of the smell.

When the sun set and the moon rose, the hive circled around another bonfire, singing and dancing until you saw your incorporeal families. To your expectations, they never appeared, even as the hive grew.

During the bonfire, the emptiness sitting on your right felt less apparent as you peered at the embers floating from the fire to the stars, your stare slowly traveling back down to the banjoist across from you who also happened to be gazing up at the night sky, his fingers plucking the strings of his instrument and singing in an accent that had not matched the one he regularly spoke in—a phenomenon you never questioned.

When he hadn’t seen what he wanted, his head dropped to the fire, his eyes glossed with an emptiness that mirrored the vacant presence by your side. Beyond the flame, he was able to find you sitting across from him without an instrument, your fingers still reluctant to mark the piano.

The following night, Remmick found his way back in your bed, laying on his side with his head leaning on his hand, his other one tracing your clavicle.

“I can’t just forget what happened,” you told Remmick.

Just minutes before, you had his wrists above his head, fucking him until he came with your name leaving his mouth, desperate to feel your skin. But for once, he enjoyed being absolved of all control, allowing your hands to hold him down despite carrying an ancient strength in his body that effortlessly surpassed your own.

His calloused finger paused at your sternum. “So you’re…choosin’ to sit in your own guilt.”

You turned your head to the ceiling. “Someone has to.”

“And that makes you, what? Better than the rest of us?”

You blinked, your brows twitching. “That’s not what I’m saying,” you said, shifting to your side, the man’s hand falling off of you.

“No, what I’m hearin’ is that you think your guilt is gon’ purify you somehow,” the elder accused you. “You ain’t different from us.” From me.

“I’m not the one who used Arizona—” you hadn’t bothered to learn the fiddler’s name—“to bite the kid. You killed him the minute you got your teeth on him.”

Remmick scoffed. “Oh, ‘cause I was the one who held a gun to that baby’s head?”

Your mouth shut.

“I told you once, and I’mma tell you again: we’re the same,” he reminded you. “No amount of tears you spill is gon’ wash away the shit you chose to do.” He reached for your wrist, bringing your hand to your face. “And that smell? It ain’t goin’ away either.”

You furrowed your brows, failing to pull away from his grip.

“Hell, that stink was there way before I showed up,” Remmick continued. “Just…every now and then, you’ll get a reminder.”

There wasn’t room for denial anymore, but rather than kicking it out, you told Remmick to leave instead. You told him you were tired and hungry; that once he left, you’d go out to find something to eat. But you remained in your room, the red neon sign sneaking inside, the slit dragging across your chest as it rose and fell.

A fortnight passed by—Remmick hadn’t returned.

The stink also hadn’t dwindled, but this time around, you didn’t lament. You didn’t lick the salt that slid down to the corner of your lip either. You simply washed your hands, staring at the blood that poured down the sink, but never completely left your skin. Then you raised your head to the blemished mirror, finding only the graffitied tile wall behind you.

Curled in your bed, you lifted your fingers to your nose, sniffing the burning boy…sniffing the corpses of the folks at the speakeasy—your frenzied mind too far gone that most of those who died that night stayed dead, never hopping back up on their feet. With each inhale, you dug into each layer of people you’d killed or turned, remembering how they smelled and tasted, but never being able to recall their faces, or their names.

What mattered, you began to understand, was their flesh disembodied from their souls. Frankly, that’s what made your consumption easier.

You laid in your filth for another hour before gathering yourself, leaving to find Remmick’s room, craving the smell your glistening bodies mustered up together while the moon was out. Hesitantly, you knocked on his door, scrutinizing the faded teal paint that peeled off the aged wood.

Seconds later your ears perked at the sound of his footsteps reaching the portal, opening the barrier standing between the two of you.

Before you could say anything, he reached for your fingers, pulling you inside the darkness of his den.

When you stepped in, he cradled your face; up close, you could see the crusted blood on the sides of his mouth. He had just eaten. So closer you moved, finding his leftovers with your tongue, stealing some for yourself before taking his mouth completely.

With your lips attached to his, you walked forward until the back of his legs hit the bed enough for his bottom to land on the mattress. Standing above him, he gazed up at you; you could see the embers in his eyes again as he watched you ease down to your knees, undoing the trousers that trapped in his stiff cock. Once you slipped the waistband of his underwear down, it sprung out, and hungrily your hand molded around him, lightly, but firmly squeezing.

Remmick bit his lower lip when you found the tip of his member, rubbing your thumb around the slit where pre-cum leaked. Quickly, you spat on your hand, combining both fluids to jerk him off, dragging your hand up and down all the way to the base of his cock. Then as he watched you pump slowly then fast, interchanging between the two speeds, you used your other hand to push against his chest, leaning him back until he landed on his elbows. Soon his eyes rolled back, his head almost hitting the mattress when he felt your hot mouth close on the tip of his dick.

“Yeah,” he rasped out. “That feels nice, baby.”

When you took him in deeper, his cock pulsing, Remmick’s back finally hit the mattress as he hissed.

You enjoyed hearing him repeat your name. You liked the indecision of his hand, unsure whether to cup the side of your face or sit on top of your head, pushing you further into him despite being inside you.

Soon his pelvis trembled when he came, and as you drank him in, he groaned, “Fuck,” before letting out a salacious sigh that shot straight to your cunt.

Not long after, he was inside you again.

Your hands gripped the bed frame as you bounced on his cock, Remmick’s hand on your waist, his other squeezing your breast, and his lips clasped on the other, sucking thirstily. Eventually, he released your tit from his mouth, leaning his head back against the headboard, taking in the dim sight of you while continuing to cup your breast, flicking and twisting your nipple.

Dropping your gaze from the ceiling down to the utterly vulgar look on his face, you removed your grip from the mahogany wood, taking a hold of his stubbled chin, rubbing the tip of your thumb across his bottom lip. More than willing, he parted his mouth, letting your thumb slip inside.

As he sucked, he removed his hand from your breast, taking hold of your forearm to guide himself along your digits, enveloping not just one, but two or even three into his salivating mouth, never peering away from you.

The burning feeling beneath your belly only grew as you moved with him, your bodies finding a natural rhythm once both his hands found your ass, helping you maneuver yourself up and down his dick. Remembering the sight and feel of him slurping in your blood-coated fingers that only the two of you could see, smell, and taste, you inched closer to the edge.

Enjoying the feel of you moving up and down his cock and the repetitions of, “Rem…Remmick,” that slipped from your tongue, he inched closer to the edge too, encouraging you with his own moans, muttering, “Fuck, you feel so good.”

“Yeah?” You huffed out.

“Yeah. Like seein’ you…on top of me.”

For the first time, you both came together, your bodies stuttering as you held each other close, his nose deep in the crook of your neck—your mouth close to his ear, your breathless whimpers making him thrust into you two, or three, or four more times, allowing your body to milk him until there was nothing left.

You remained where you were, getting a hold of his ear with your teeth, gently biting on the cartilage before trailing your lips to his cheekbone, then to his lips. Tenderly, you kissed him, feeling his hand snake to the nape of your neck, caressing his thumb behind your ear while his tongue explored your mouth, tasting the cum you had drunk earlier.

That night, no one left each other.

You didn’t gather your clothes and rush back to your room, which you would have done weeks ago. And Remmick never told you to leave. Instead, he brushed the back of his hand along on your cheek as you laid on your back and he laid on his side, chuckling at something funny you said.

Nevertheless, the stench lingered, trailing its way to your nose without fail. And Remmick couldn’t fight the smile on his face when he recognized that you had finally welcomed it.

#remmick x reader #remmick x fem!reader #poc reader #remmick x sinners #remmick fanfiction #sinners remmick #sinners 2025 #jack o'connell #afab reader

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gotaksboyfie · 3 days ago

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hi‼️‼️‼️ it wasn’t stated in your yes and nos, but do you do omegaverse? if not thats completely fins but if you do can i request for alpha james lee or dg x male reader nsfw headcannons? if not then just james lee or dg nsfw headcannons are okay too😥😥😥 thank you!!

(alpha) james lee/dg nsfw hc's

male reader

a/n red for alpha!james and white for normal ^__^

» very versatile with his pace. it all comes down to what feels right in the situation honestly, prefers to keep it fast and sharp to have you turning into a mess beneath him with his precision

» somewhat skinny with length (little over 6in) not the thickest, but he'll hit all the perfect spots inside you

» prefers to top, but is okay with bottoming if you want it. doesn't enjoy it as much (because it's harder to stay in control with a dick up his ass), but it's a nice feeling. probably wont do it very often though

» can't deepthroat well, but is definitely skilled with his tongue. (have you seen him and those lollipops?) sometimes he'll scrap his teeth against you to see you whimper in pain

» hickeys everywhere. if people can't know you belong to him specifically (as dg), then they'll just have to know that you're taken already. you'll just have go about your daily life looking like you get mauled by a vampire everyday while his skin is spotless

» not very vocal in bed, just the occasional grunt/moan. he keeps his composure, always having a nonchalant face

» a huge sadist. seeing the way your face twists up in pain makes him want to push your buttons further—to see how long it'll take before you break

» dom. he will be in control the entire time. on the meaner side both physically and verbally. probably into some cock slapping, enjoying the way you cry so prettily for him with each hit. he also never fails to mention how desperate you are for him, pointing out how your body betrays your words

» milks you until you're cumming dry. tying you down to either the chair or the bed, do anything he wants to you, making you sob with pleasure by the end of it. if james is feeling particularly ruthless, he'll do it until you pass out

» into mirror sex. likes watching all your little reactions, and making you look at how well he fucks you

» obsessed with your scent glands. no matter what position, his nose will be buried in it. same with your mating mark. once he pops his knot, his teeth instinctively find your mating mark and bites down, reclaiming you.

» his alpha is very instinctive. he's in control of it most of the time, but it gets very possessive. don't even think about being too friendly with another guy or else your hole is going to pay for it, leaving you limping for days

» will purposely avoid touching your hole and cock just to see how wet you'll get from him teasing you. he'll suck little marks on your neck while caressing your thighs—never touching where you truly want him to—until you're dripping for him

» speaking of slick.. he's obsessed with yours. he laps at it like a madman, sucking out every single drop. the taste is like addicting to him

» if you're an alpha he won't bottom for you unless he's in a very specific mood or if you're in rut. you'll have to catch him on a day where he's feeling playful enough to give up dominance for once, letting you take some control over him. don't expect him to submit though. he can easily turn the tides with his strength

» during ruts, all he can think about is breeding. don't even bother trying to wear clothes around him, he'll have it ripped off within seconds. your neck will be thoroughly marked and you'll stink of him for days

» if you're in heat he's at your beck and call. you want a knot? he's always available for that, just ask him any time. caters to whatever you're feeling—rough, soft, deep, anything for his mate <3

» if you're in rut, his inner alpha will begrudgingly agree to let you knot him. only because it doesn't want to see it's mate in distress. james himself is fine with it, but it's a matter of fighting his instincts rather more than anything

» clingy once his knot pops. he makes sure to knot in a comfortable position, making sure he can cuddle with you without any awkward poses. while you wait for it to deflate, he'll try and rile you up again for another round despite your spent body. he'll thumb at your nipples or nip at your neck, anything that he knows will get your body interested again

fin

a/n alpha dg.. 😵‍💫 saw this request and locked in immediately. i hope this isn't too ooc since this is my first time writing him ㅠㅠ

#lookism x reader #lookism x male reader #lookism #james lee #james lee x reader #dg #dg x reader #james lee x male reader #lookism smut #kang dagyeom #kang dagyeom x reader #kang dagyeom x male reader #diego kang

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chronosdawn · 2 days ago

Text

I wake not with the sun - Monster hunter!Childe x Vampire!Reader

Modern Fantasy AU, GN!Reader

Summary:

In a world where the supernatural lives alongside the mudane, just out of sight of the common man, you've devoted almost a century to keeping your nose down and staying out of trouble.

All of that changes though, the night you catch a monster hunter on your trail.

CW: Depictions of violence, age difference (Childe is in his early twenties, reader is immortal)

A/N: I'm back on my vampire bullshit once more :') Please note this is the first part of a three part series, with later parts featuring Zhongli x Reader.

Word count: 5k | AO3 link

Childe’s blade carved clean through the carapace of the spider demon that had thrown itself at his face. Venom bubbled from the tips of the creature’s fangs as it fell to the ground, a series of strange clicks emanating from its maw before being silenced by the crunch of Childe’s boot.

He was already turning when several answering clicks echoed around the walls of the alley, years of hunting down creatures much larger, and considerably more dangerous, than his current quarry allowed his body to operate on autopilot. The dual swords he wielded glowed faintly white under the moonlight as they slashed through demon after demon, untouched by the black ichor that now stained the pale grey stone around him. That was the power of the Tsaritsa’s blessing for you.

The final spider demon fell to a stab wound through its abdomen; its numerous, beady eyes burning bright yellow as it let out a final rasping hiss. The demonic energy withered while Childe watched expressionless, the corpse of the spider shrivelling to a desiccated husk in its absence. The alley fell silent, the only other sign of life being the occasional sound of distant traffic from a nearby road. Childe let the twin swords slip out of fingers, the weapons vanishing in a shower of sparks as they lost their physical form, waiting for him to call on them once more. Letting out a sigh, he ran a hand through his hair as he looked over the lingering carnage. He’d hoped that a whole den of spider demons would have made for a bit more of a challenge.

When the Tsaritsa had initially ordered him to this quaint little town, he’d thought it must be because something truly monstrous had made it’s home here—a quarry worthy of one of her Harbingers. Thus far, however, his hunts had been limited to minor demons and other lesser aberrations. Aside from the wraith he’d found lingering around an old graveyard a day after his move here, these spider demons had been the most promising chance for a good fight he’d had, and he still hadn’t even broken a sweat.

The lack of any real challenge was making him restless—the need for battle and blood itching away at his insides. He was at least still cognizant enough to realise that if this carried on, it might actually start to become a problem; the same way it had before one of the Tsaritsa’s hunters had plucked him half-feral from his own quiet village. Just as he was ruminating on whether he should return to his temporary lodgings at the local inn to search for something more likely to put up a fight via the official hunter channels, he felt a shift in the air. It was subtle, a single off-key note in a symphony that he doubted most hunters, or even a number of supernaturals, would have been able to catch. But he could feel it, an ever so slight charge running over his skin that promised danger.

Childe ran his tongue over his lips, the bloodlust that was an ever-present murmur in his ear rising to a roaring cacophony. He carelessly tossed a cleansing talisman at the spider demon remains—setting them alight with a white flame that would burn away at the corpses until not even ash remained—before slipping away down the alley on silent feet. That vague sense of something unnatural guided him through the twists and turns of various backstreets. The sounds of background traffic faded and gave way to the usual quiet ambiance of a sleepy town—a TV turned up slightly too loud, the jingle of a bell on a cat’s collar and there—just at the very edge of his hearing—the sound of too swift footsteps weaving through the darkened streets.

Childe grinned. The hunt was on.

You were so very hungry.

Your throat burned as though you’d swallowed a mouthful of hot coals and your fangs ached in your gums, begging to be allowed to sink into soft warm flesh. It was own your fault things had gotten this bad, but it was also the price you’d decided to pay when you made the choice to move out of the city decades ago.

Cities offered a certain sort of safety for supernatural beings—the thrumming mass of people making it far easier to hide than in a small town, where everyone knew everyone else and gossip spread like fire across a field of tinder. It would have made hunting easier too, less chance of past meals encountering those with similar stories and realising that perhaps what they’d written off as a drunken dream and terrible hangover might be something more sinister.

Unsurprisingly, however, the promise of relative safety was a terribly effective lure for other supernaturals as well, leading to large communities being built under the noses of almost every major city. You’d thought those places marvellous once, a menagerie of the inhuman—like and not like—but now the thought of them turned your stomach like curdled milk.

A place like this, where you could count on one hand the number of supernatural creatures you’d encountered in the years since you’d moved here, was exactly where you wanted to be.

If only it didn’t have to come with such a strict feeding schedule.

You practically fled from your little redbrick townhouse, darting out into the night lest you encounter one of your neighbours and drain them dry before you could come to your senses. There was a pub just the other side of the river that split the town in half, and there were usually at least one or two patrons who ended up stumbling home after one too many beers. You could only hope you’d have the self-restraint to charm them into letting you help them home rather than simply dragging them into a back alley and biting down.

The night air felt faintly warm against your chilled skin, leftover heat from a scorching summer day. As you turned down one of the few shopping streets, a string of bunting weaving back and forth across the road caught your eye, the moonlight rendering the bright colours a greyish pastel, along with a scrawl of chalk declaring this the site of the annual summer street fair. A deep breathe revealed the lingering scents of grilled food and sticky sweet soft drinks, a sign that only hours ago this street was thrumming with life and laughter. Now it was dark and silent, save only for the sound of your footsteps.

You hadn’t known there was any sort of event in town today, not that it mattered. Even if you had been able to withstand the five minute walk here under the blazing sun, just the thought of all those hearts beating together in such close proximity had saliva welling up in your mouth, swiftly followed a miserable sense of shame you were quick to bury—an easy task considering the fierceness of the burn at the back of your throat.

Pushing on, you turned down a narrow side street and left the signs of human merriment behind. It didn’t take long for the scents to fade as well, although all too soon they were replaced by a strong odour—sulfur layered over burnt incense. You froze. You were far too familiar with that smell to mistake it for anything human.

What business would a demon have all the way out here? There was a small nest of spider demons somewhere nearby, you’d caught sight of their misshapen, jointed limbs retreating around the corners of buildings once or twice, but they tended to run as soon as they sensed you coming. Even predators knew to make themselves scarce when something more deadly was on the prowl. For the air to be this thick with the scent of demonic magic, however, either something had happened to really rile the lesser demons up or another, stronger demon had decided to drop by your small town.

At that thought, your chest started to feel tight, your long dead heart heavy and still. Surely, it couldn’t be him, not after all these years apart. Refusing to take another breath of the familiar stench, you forced yourself to continue on your way. Demons were common enough as far as types of supernatural being went, just because one might be passing through, didn’t mean it had anything to do with the reason you’d moved out of the city in the first place.

A soft whistle of wind, far too faint for the human ear to pick up, alerted you to movement of something behind you and you twisted to the side just in time to see a silver tipped arrow fly past you and clatter against the cobblestone path.

All of thoughts of your past were immediately forgotten as you took in the sacred runes carved into the arrow, a language used only by one very specific group—hunters. Your body was already moving by the time the second and third arrows came, the last one brushing past the edge of your coat as you ducked into a side street.

Damnit, so that must have been what had gotten the spider demons all worked up. What the hell was a hunter doing here? You took a brief moment to stop and listen, the sound of someone shuffling about on the roof tiles was muted enough that it told you whoever they were, they were clearly experienced. Before a second round of silver arrows could rain down upon you, you charged down the street, building momentum before kicking off against the brick of one of the buildings and launching yourself onto the roof opposite your attacker. As you twisted through the air, you scanned over the surrounding area, looking to see if there were any other hunters on your trail who you’d need to fend off before you could finally soothe the raging fire in your throat.

Fortunately, the hunter on the rooftop appeared to be alone, which at least made it unlikely he’d come to town looking for you specifically. Any hunter who’d been trained enough to be granted so-called holy arrows should have been drilled on strategies to take down vampires—all of which involved making sure you had backup.

The hunter still had his bow trained on the spot where you’d first ducked into the alley—though you could see his head start to lift as your feet touched down against the roof tiles. Unwilling to give him an inch, you leapt across the gap between the buildings throwing yourself at him.

You caught the surprise in his eyes at the speed of your movement as he was just barely able to twist his bow to block your strike at his neck. That he could react at all meant he had some ability beyond a normal human—likely either a boon granted by one of the supernatural beings who worked with hunters against their own kind, or he had some distant supernatural ancestry himself. Twisting your body, you aimed a swift kick at the back of his knee, his leg buckling as you made contact. Rather than topple forwards however, the hunter used the momentary loss of his footing to dive forwards into a roll, pivoting just before he reached the edge of the rooftop and putting the two of you face to face once more.

He seemed to study you for a moment, his eyes eerily devoid of any reflection of the moonlight that highlighted his profile in silver. The hunter opened his mouth to say something but you threw yourself towards him once more. The scent of a warm body so close to you turning the burning ache in the back of your throat into a roaring inferno. You were so hungry you could barely think straight as you went for his neck once more, but this time with your fangs. A flash of bright white light brought your back to your senses in just enough time to dodge the twin swords slashing through the air, blades appearing from seemingly nowhere. Taking advantage of the moment of lucidity, you backed up a few steps, forcing yourself to think through the bloodlust clouding your brain like a crimson fog.

Those weren’t ordinary hunter weapons, you noted as the young man brought the shining silver blades in front of him, settling into a fighting stance. The ability to conjure light weapons out of thin air could only be something he’d received from the founder of the hunter’s guild herself—the so-called Tsaritsa. Even you’d have a hard time healing a wound caused by something like that.

You braced yourself for him to come at you, already trying to think through the best steps to disarm him, so you were somewhat surprised when he began to speak instead.

“So, what’s a vampire doing all the way out here?” he asked, the casual tone of his voice a sharp contrast to the way he held his blades, poised to strike.

“I could ask the same of one the Tsaritsa’s dogs,” you replied, muscles coiling as you adjusted your own stance.

“You know, all the vampires I’ve hunted up to now were newly turned, but you’re not new, are you?” The hunter cocked his head at you, exposing more of his youthful features under the faint light. “How old are you?”

“A lot older than you, I’m sure.” You shifted your weight back and forth between your feet, trying to puzzle out if there was any point to this unexpected chatter over the roaring chorus in your head telling you to pin him down and bite and drink, drink, drink.

“They say the older a vampire gets, the stronger they become,” he said, tongue darting out to wet his lips. “Let’s test if that’s true.”

That remark was the only warning you got before he lunged towards you, the blade in his right hand aiming for your throat, while the one in his left was raised at just the right height to limit your ability to dodge. Experience told you he was likely expecting you to step backwards and would be planning his next move accordingly, possibly aiming to drive you back to the edge of the roof. Decision made in a split second, you ducked instead, ripping a tile from the roof with your bare hands in the process and raising it to parry the sword in his left hand as you moved underneath it.

Just like that you exchanged a flurry of blows, his weapons leaving scratches across the surface of your improvised hand-sized shield. In turn, you tried to strike at his joints; his wrists and knees and anywhere else that one solid blow from you should be enough to take him out of the fight. But for as much as you possessed inhuman speed, so did he, those swords twirling such that even when you managed to hit him, you had to soften the blow in order to withdraw quickly enough to escape path of his blades.

Bringing the roof tile up to block yet another swipe at your side, you cursed when you felt the slate crack in your hand from the impact. Changing tactics, you stepped your foot behind the hunter’s and brought your elbow down hard into his chest, striking with enough speed that he wasn’t able to bring his blade down on your arm before he started to fall.

What you didn’t expect, however, was for him to dispel the weapon one of his weapons, using his now free left hand to grab hold of a handful of your clothing as he fell instead. You just caught the gleam of the sword in his other hand coming towards you—a borderline suicidal move considering that if the weapon succeeding in carving cleanly through your neck, it’s trajectory would leave his head next on the chopping block. You barely had enough time make the decision to move with him, buying yourself the precious few seconds you need to grab hold of his arm and brute force it above his head. The weapon fell from his grasp, turning to shards of light that quickly winked out of existence before they hit the tiles of the roof.

There was a loud thud as the hunter fell on his back and you landed on top of him, effectively straddling him while you grasped hold of his other arm and brought it above his head, your clothes tearing in the process when he refused to let go of them. You felt him strain against your grip; definitely not quite human then, you thought as it took all of your strength to pin his arms in place. Glancing down at his face, you expected to see some degree of horror or disbelief—a hunter this powerful likely wasn’t used to being beaten in a show of brute strength. Even a newly turned vampire would likely struggle to keep up with him. Instead, however, you found him panting softly and grinning up at you like he was having the time of his life.

“You really are strong. You’ve been trained to fight too, haven’t you? Who taught you?”

“I don’t think you’re in any position to be asking questions,” you replied, struggling to think over the feeling of the warm press of his body beneath you and the rapid pounding of his heart in his chest. The rush of blood throughout his body was a siren song in your ear. If you just bent down, you could—

There was a flicker in the dark and you moved your hands just in time to avoid being caught by the sword the hunter summoned, the handle only lightly gripped between an index and middle finger you hadn’t pinned properly.

Taking advantage of your surprise, he used the leg you still had wrapped behind his ankle to reverse your positions, bringing his blade up to your throat as he now hovered over you. The weapon burned faintly against your skin, akin to the sting of midday sunlight.

“Now I’m in a position to ask some questions, right?” he said with a cocky grin. “Who trained you? If you’re this good, then after I’m done with you, I want to fight them too.”

You almost wanted to laugh at how pointless it would be to tell him. Not even the Tsaritsa herself would dare to go after your once mentor, it would be suicide to even consider it. Before that thought could go much further, you caught a new scent in the air—the saccharine smell of freshly drawn blood.

You quickly zeroed in on the dark droplets beading along a shallow gash on the hunter’s forearm, likely a result of summoning in his weapon at such an awkward angle. The tenuous hold you had on the seemingly endless hunger inside you snapped entirely, and you were aware of nothing—not the burn of his sword against your palms when you forced the flat of blade aside nor the surprise on his face as you surged towards his throat—save for the promise of blood on your tongue.

Your fangs sank into his neck, carving through skin to reach the tender vein beneath. Liquid ambrosia flowed into your mouth, drowning out the feeling of the body thrashing beneath you as pinned the hunters hands once more on pure instinct, this time forcing his fingers flat against the surface of the roof so that he had no way of resummoning his weapons and interrupting your feeding. His blood was richer than that of the townsfolk, untainted by alcohol or any other substance. There was a faint aftertaste to it though, one you could not name but managed to bring to mind the rush that came with pursuing prey, the thrill of the chase.

Slowly, you began to gain some sense of a hot stinging sensation emanating from your palms, like you’d put them on a grill and left them there long enough for the heat to reach your bones. You forced yourself to unlatch from the hunter’s neck, his struggles having long ceased, and brought your hands to your face, studying the blisters that had formed over the skin of your palms. Right, that was why you should never touch a weapon gifted by the Tsaritsa. Even with the blood that currently warmed your body, creating the illusion that you too, were a living, vibrant thing, it would take at least a couple of days for the burns to heal.

You sat back for moment, taking deep, gulping breaths of air you didn’t really need as you waited for the euphoria that always accompanied an infusion of fresh blood to fade, the pain in your hands hurrying it along its way.

A noise, the sound of something buzzing against the rooftop caught your attention, and you snapped your head towards it. Lying about a metre away from you was a phone, one that currently had the screen lit up as it vibrated its way over the tiles. Still trying to clear the last of the fog from your brain, you reached over and grabbed hold of it, taking in the bright image. It was a photograph of three people; one of them, the hunter currently lying half-dead beneath you, had his arms wrapped around the other two, a little boy and a little girl. The resemblance between the three was striking, all of them sharing the same ginger hair, Christmas card smiles and deep blue eyes, although the children’s had a certain shine to them that the hunter’s lacked.

Despite the fresh blood still rushing through you, your chest turned cold as you looked down at the pale face of the man beneath you, then back to the photograph once more. He really was shockingly young to have earned the Tsaritsa’s favour. Did his siblings know what he did for a living? Did his parents?

Your memory of being human was so faded you couldn’t remember if there was anyone who might have mourned you after you were turned. The closest thing you had to a family was the very same thing you’d come to this town running from.

The hunter’s eyelids flickered and he let out a low moan as he teetered on the edge of life and death. He hadn’t lost quite enough blood to kill him yet, but it was a near thing, another couple of mouthfuls and he’d never harm another supernatural again. You should kill him. Hide the body and flee before anyone would think to come looking for him. It would be the sensible thing to do if you wanted to avoid ending up on the hunter guild’s radar, not to mention that it would grant some small justice to all the creatures who’d met their end on his blades.

You took one more look at the smiling faces on the phone in your hand before the screen went dark. In that moment, you felt the weight of centuries pressing down on you. What good would come from any more bloodshed? From forcing someone to have to deliver the news to those children that their clearly beloved brother was missing and likely dead?

With a heavy sigh, you reached for a portion of the dark power that lurked inside you, newly replenished from the mortal blood running through your veins.

“Look at me,” you commanded, taking hold of the hunter’s face. He was just barely conscious enough to register your words but sure enough, his eyes blinked open.

“When you wake,” you told him, magic lightly distorting the timbre of your voice, “you will remember nothing about the supernatural, nor that you were ever a hunter. Go back home to your family and forget you were ever here. Now sleep.” No sooner had you finished speaking than his eyes fell shut once more, his body fully limp beneath you.

You stood, assessing the damage to the roof. Other than the tile you’d ripped out and the few that appeared cracked where you’d pinned the hunter’s hands against them, the roof was otherwise unscathed. Deciding the damage wasn’t bad enough to require your attempts to fix it, you lifted the hunter into your arms, wincing at the way your palms stung as you did so, and jumped down from the roof, landing softly in the neighbouring alley.

It took several minutes to search the hunter and remove all of the weapons you found on his person, including a small, engraved dagger that you recognised as one kept by hunters mainly for ceremonial purposes. The name etched onto gleaming silver blade, Childe, must have been the one given to him by the Tsaritsa when he swore himself into her service. Not that he, nor anyone else, should have any reason to use it now. Finally, you slipped the phone into his jacket pocket before leaving him lying on his side against the cool cobblestone of the alley.

Frowning as you took in the torn state of your clothing, you set off on the walk back to your home, even if the days you could keep calling your little house that were now numbered. Although the hunter had been effectively neutralised and sent on his way, it wasn’t a good idea to stick around in the area any longer, especially considering you hadn’t found out why he’d ended up all the way out here in the first place.

Oh well, you should have bought yourself a bit of time at least and it certainly wouldn’t be your first time uprooting everything. Plans for the inevitable move could wait until tomorrow though, for now you intended to collapse on your bed and savour the temporary relief that came with a fresh meal—the hunger that forever threatened to consume you momentarily sated.

Childe woke feeling like death. The pounding in his head a steady beat that almost drowned out the chorus of morning birdsong. Blinking, he found himself sprawled on his back, the cool uneven stones beneath him digging through the fabric of his jacket. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been unconscious for, but it must have been at least a couple of hours judging by how the sky was beginning to lighten, soft shades of blue and pale pink chasing away the midnight blue he usually did his work under.

Slowly pulling himself into a sitting position, Childe brought his hand up to his head to steady himself as the grey stone around him started to spin with the movement. While most might write off the throbbing inside his skull combined with the faint vertigo as being due to the almost lethal blood loss his body had endured, he knew better. There was a slight golden haze around the edges of his vision, a telltale sign of attempted hypnosis. Patting himself down, Childe frowned as he came to the realisation almost all of his weapons were missing, save for the small, innocuous-looking purple stone he’d been sure to carry everywhere since the Tsaritsa had gifted it to him that still hung suspended from his belt. So close. He’d been so close to losing almost every memory he had since age fourteen and had only been saved because you hadn’t known the power that smooth, round gem held.

In the years since the hunter’s guild had started producing delusions, news of them and the ability they granted their holders to shake off almost all forms of supernatural mind control had spread far and wide among the supernatural community. For you to be unaware of them meant that your presence in this lonely, quiet town wasn’t a one-off; you must be purposefully isolating yourself.

Childe thought back to how you’d fought on the rooftop, refined movements backed up by a strength and speed that he’d struggled to match—even if your hypnosis had taken effect, he struggled to imagine ever forgetting it; the way his blood had sung in response to every strike and parry. There was no way that level of precision had been achieved through experience alone. Someone had to have trained you after you’d turned. The question was, where were they now and why had you ended up all alone?

Before he attempted to stand, Childe took a moment to prod at the various aches over his body, assessing the damage. A couple of his fingers were almost certainly fractured and his left wrist ached in a way that suggested it too might have been the victim of more than just a nasty bruise. And that was to say nothing of the sting when he ran his fingers along the juncture of his neck, the tips of his gloves coming back flaked with dried blood. A proper vampire bite, a mistake that by all rights should have been fatal, and from the half-feral look in your eyes before you’d buried your fangs in his neck, very nearly had been.

The number of hunters Childe had met who’d endured a vampire’s bite and lived to tell the tale could be counted on one hand, and almost all of them had been the same story. A newly turned vampire had gone for them, but been staked before they could finish off the job. It was agony, they’d said, coming that close to death. However, Childe found he couldn’t remember feeling much pain beyond the initial slice of your fangs. He could recall the way his heart had begun to meet more rapidly in his chest, trying to compensate for the loss of blood, while unwittingly funnelling more of it down your throat. How his breath had hitched at the rush of sensation, stronger even than the one he felt in battle, and how it had almost entirely drowned out the bloodlust he’d had in his system for almost a decade. Even now, still weak from blood loss and slumped against the alley wall, he ached to feel that same thrill once more. Both the buzz that only came from fighting a near equal and the borderline ecstasy of teetering on the brink of life and death under your hands.

He had to find you again before you could run.

Feeling in his left trouser pocket, Childe grinned when he felt his fingers meet a small hard object. Lifting it into the air, the first rays of morning light reflected off of the silver key in his hands, the same one he’d managed to slip from your coat before the strength in his fingers gave out entirely, while you were too lost in sensation of his blood sliding down your throat to notice. Attached to the key was a small charm; a worn little hummingbird crocheted with strands of green and pink yarn. Cute, he thought as he turned it over in his fingers, the bright colours stark against the stained black leather of his gloves. In a town as small as this, someone was bound to recognise it, if it not hear on the grapevine of someone losing their keys. All he had to do was play the good Samaritan wanting to return them, and he’d be led right to you.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Next part we will delve more into the Reader's past (meaning a certain someone is going to make their appearance) as well what happens when Childe finds them. Like most writers, I am motivated by comments so if you enjoyed this fic, let me know!

#childe x reader #tartaglia x reader #Genshin impact x reader #genshin x reader #genshin impact x you #Genshin Modern Fantasy AU

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masterxhunter · 2 days ago

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The vampire was determined to wring Briar's pleasure from him, to make him cum on his cock, since he knew the faerie would hate himself for it, for giving in to the pleasure that he was desperately trying to fight. He could feel the other's body beneath him fighting it, while simultaneously craving the touch, feeling that hot little hole tighten around his softening length as the pleasure started coursing through Briar's veins. Oh, Hunter loved making pretty boys cum and cry at the same time. It never failed to entertain him. He kept stroking the other's length, keeping his cock buried deep inside the other's hole as he felt Briar finally give in to the pleasure. "That's it.. just like that," he purred, deceivingly soft and soothing as he felt Briar's warm load coat his hand, stroking the throbbing length to work the slave through his unwanted orgasm. "So much cum, you must've been so pent up, hm? Just needed me to fuck it out of you," he chuckled, taking hold of Briar's throat with his free hand, pulling him up to his chest so he could kiss at his neck. "You made a mess, baby. Clean it up," Hunter murmured, bringing his other hand to Briar's mouth, pressing his fingers between his reddened, bloody lips.

He shivered at the hand running along his back, shoulders tense as if he could reach through his skin and pull out his wings. He knew he couldn't, Briar couldn't even release them if he wanted to, but they were so precious to him, and this master had already proved he cared not at all for his well-being. He was scared of what he'd do, of what he'd make the seelie do.

He huffed a breath, a stifled noise of protest slipping from him at his degrading words. He shook his head, still buried in the sheets before a choked gasp was leaving him when his hand wrapped around his cock. His hips were instinctively trying to pull away, just to end up pushing Hunter even deeper inside him, making his body jolt from the pleasure he did not want. "No- no, don't," He couldn't tell if he was telling the vampire that or himself with the way the knot of his orgasm was growing bigger and tighter. New tears were spilling from his face at the inevitable, biting back a sob just as his release began spilling over the bed and onto Hunter's hand. His hands were fisting and clenching into the sheets, humiliated even with the courses of pleasure crashing through him. His teeth dug so harshly into his lips that he was sure he'd draw blood, just to silence the moans spilling from his lips.

#briar #thread: briar 1

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dakusan · 1 day ago

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hiiii, 🦋anon again

Every single thing you write makes my head rot even more deliciously, so here's what I've been thinking about this week (so many things I don't know which one to choose).

Vampire!skz, who likes it when you challenge their control? Even with such small things, but you know you'll drive them crazy in such a delicious way for your benefit...

I should be studying, but I can't get this out of my head right now...🙂‍↕️

🦋ANON. BACK. AGAIN. DELIVERING BRAINROT LIKE A BLOOD-SOAKED OFFERING ON AN ALTAR.

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

WHO GETS OFF ON YOU TESTING THEIR CONTROL?

Bang Chan

He knows you're doing it. Every little tease, every smirk, every “what if I don’t listen?” He’ll chuckle like he’s unaffected—but his jaw clenches. His fingers twitch. And then he waits. Because Chan doesn’t snap. He lets you dig your own grave. “Is that what you want, sweetheart? For me to break character?” The second you finally tip him over the edge, you’re pinned to the wall so fast the air leaves your lungs. “Now look what you did,” he growls. “You wanted the monster? You’ve got him.”

Lee Minho

You test him just to see if he’ll flinch—and Minho? He smirks. He lets you dance on that thin edge of danger. He dares you to keep going. Touches you with just the tips of his fingers, dragging them up your spine. “You’re cute when you pretend you’re in control.” He’ll lean in like he’s about to kiss you—then whisper, “Run.” You don’t make it far before he’s on you. Fangs grazing skin. “You wanted to poke the wolf,” he hums, “so now you’ll beg to be eaten.”

Hyunjin

He tries so hard to stay gentle. Elegant. Composed. But you know how to unravel him—inch by inch. You say things like: “Is that all? I thought you’d be rougher…” And suddenly he’s not painting anymore. He’s starving. “You love doing this to me,” he murmurs, voice hoarse. And when he finally cracks? It’s feral. Veins glowing, fangs sinking in deep while he moans like it hurts to hold back.

Han Jisung (Normal Vampire)

You call him soft. You say he’s easy to fluster. And he is. That’s the problem. You lick your lips in front of him, and his mind goes blank. You whisper a forbidden phrase, and he’s growling in your ear before his brain even catches up. “You can’t just say things like that—do you know what it does to me??” You: “That’s why I say them.” He short-circuits. Literally starts pacing. Mutters things like “Don’t lose it. She wants you to. She wants to be ruined—WAIT—” Too late. You're already under him.

Felix (Abnormal Vampire)

You touch his neck and say, “Does this bother you?” with innocent eyes. He melts at first. Then you do it again. And again. And suddenly you’re on your back with a growl in your throat and your shirt halfway shredded. “Why are you so good at this?” he whispers against your skin. But even when he loses control, his touch stays worshipful. “You want me to snap, don’t you?” he murmurs. “You want to know what I sound like when I can’t stop.” You do. And you find out. He’s sunshine until he snaps—and then he burns.

Seungmin

You smirk at him across the room. Drop a “yes, sir” with venom. And Seungmin pretends he doesn’t notice. He’ll even raise an eyebrow. “Cute.” But when he’s had enough? He locks the door. No warnings. No pretence. “Is this what you wanted?” he asks, voice low, rough. “You think I don’t know your games?” You gasp when he grabs your wrists. “That’s right,” he snarls. “Try me again.”

Jeongin

He’s still learning restraint. Still figuring himself out. So you teasing him? Risky. You giggle when he tenses. Run your fingers up his thigh. Kiss his neck and say, “Don’t you want a bite?” His breath hitches. “You don’t understand,” he whispers. “I don’t know what I’ll do if you really push me.” But you do. And when he finally breaks? It’s all teeth and growls, body heat and chaos. And afterward—he shakes. “I didn’t hurt you, did I? Tell me I didn’t hurt you—”

You: “Do it again.”

· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────༺♱༻────── · ·· · ──────

🦋 Anon, you're not studying because you’re in vampire hell and guess what? I built the dungeon. You live here now. Come back anytime with more 🩸💋

#ask dakusan #stray kids #stray kids x reader #vampire!skz x reader

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sunrisesinthesuburbs · 2 days ago

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🌸 my good omens fics 🌸

it's about time I do a masterpost about all of my fics! thank you for the constant support 💘

canon fics:

🌸 in the cracks of light, I dreamed of you (T, 60k, 7/7): post season 2 fix it, angst with a happy ending, season 3 speculation; my very first good omens fic! Aziraphale fails Heaven's test, Crowley drives the getaway car, they need to find their way back to each other while finding a way to save the world. Piece of cake!

🌸 how you've haunted me (E, 10k, 1/1): post canon, getting more together, south downs cottage; an angel and demon move in together and learn many things about one another, while also learning to stop assuming things about one another.

alternate universes:

🌸 Borrowed Words (M, 94k, 13/13): human AU, lovers to strangers to friends to lovers, second chances, small towns; writer Crowley meets the long lost love of his life after twenty three years of no contact. Aziraphale has now custody of his niece, Crowley has writer's block and is navigating life after an Accident, and the small town where they meet again may be just what they both need.

this work is part of a series: so I'll borrow words from all my favourite paragraphs, which contains two other works with the og:

💘 as I said in my letters (T, 5k 1/1): set after the last chapter of Borrowed Words but before the epilogue, a silly little addition about caring and being cared for.

💘 Picture You (T, 9k, 1/1): scenes from Borrowed Words, Aziraphale's Version. A collection of nine scenes over the years, missing and codas from the original work from Aziraphale's point of view.

🌸 and salt the Earth behind you (E, 59k, 9/9): human AU, forbidden relationship, murder mystery; detective (profiler, actually) Aziraphale should have dropped C.I Crowley the moment he realized he was falling in love with him. Now they have a string of murders to solve, and no intention to let each other go.

🌸 Beautiful Things (M, 65k, 12/12): human AU, strangers to lovers, forced proximity, weaponized coziness; two disgraced London snobs are sent to the Isle of Skye to... 'recharge'. New neighbours and temporary owners of identical cottages, they fall in love with the island, with the part of themselves they thought they lost and with each other, of course. featuring Fluffy the dog!

this work is part of a series: to the moon and to saturn, which contains one another work:

💘 you and me, always forever (T, 6k, 1/1): Valentine's Day sequel where Aziraphale and Crowley, back in London, became dog grandparents! Panic and sweetness ensues.

🌸 every day is a holiday (when I'm near to you) (M, 59k, 6/6): human AU, best friends to lovers, fake dating, Christmas; when Aziraphale's former homophobic brother invites him to his wedding (to a man!), a ten day extravaganza in the Maldives at Christmas, bringing his best friend Crowley as his plus one seems the only logical thing to do to survive. Surely no long-buried feelings will come to the surface, right?

🌸 the taste that your lips allow (M, 90k, 12/12): vampire AU, strangers to lovers, magic and humor; not-ordinary vampire Crowley meets Aziraphale-like-the-angel in a downpour, and his whole life changes. Falling in love for the first time while the new management of the Honorable Ensemble of London's Lurkers (you guessed it, H.E.L.L.) wants you dead may be a bit chaotic, but all the best love stories are messy. featuring witches, spells, artificial blood and antiques!

fan project:

🌸 little by little (T, 16k, 11/11): eleven ficlets I wrote off of prompts people sent me on tumblr in exchange for donations to one of four charities working against gender based violence. 11 ficlets, canon and AUs, all under 2k words!

#good omens #writing tag #ineffable husbands #aziracrow #good omens fanfiction #good omens fic rec #human au #alternate universe #aziracrow fic #the taste that your lips allow #borrowed words #asteby #beautiful things #every day is a holiday

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nozhdyved · 2 days ago

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hey hey! can you write more vampire Artrick?

I just imagine Patrick and Art having the same dynamic as Damon and Stefan from the Vampire Diaries. Patrick being the more bold and unashamed vampire, doing whatever he wants recklessly just like he did as a human. Art trying to suppress his hunger and live like he were still human; trying to remain pure only to lose control when Patrick convinces him to feed.

I love your vampire Artrick <33

ANONNN UR MIND!!! this is amazing!!! i fear i have not seen tvd but im picking up what ur putting down... lmk if u wanna see more!! i love these freaky yaoi guys

taglist: @girliism, @imperishablereverie, @faiztsheap, @musingsofheaven, @yardofbrunettes, @forgetmenotnympho, aaaaand tagging @andyrambles for starting the whole vamp artrick revolution

cw: gore and violence, uhh maybe a little coercion but it comes from a place of loooove

it's a quiet evening on the streets of new rochelle. art and patrick walk on seperate sides on the sidewalk, art keeping his gaze lowered and patrick's head snapping up anytime a person as much as walks by. they're desperate. it's obvious. art's counting the seconds passing by in his head, as if that can stave off the hunger. and normally, it can. normally, the feeling passes, maybe after one or two rare steaks. but this isn't a normal night.

patrick's a predator stalking the night, roaming the streets in search for his next meal. his eyes are bloodshot, hands twitching in desperation. this isn't a matter of eating a meal for pleasure, it's a matter of survival. because patrick isn't sure if he'll see the next day if he doesn't eat soon, and he can't leave art. not now, not until they're ready.

they pause at the entrance of a bar, one that they frequented before they turned. patrick's looking at art expectantly, waiting for him to object like he always does. after a bit of silence, art finally does look up at patrick, his brows furrowed.

"i don't want to do this," he says, his voice low and gravelly. patrick just rolls his eyes in response and fishes out a carton of cigarettes and a lighter. they could be standing here for a while.

"we gotta feed, baby. nothin' wrong with that," he mutters with the cigarette between his lips, lighting it expertly. "i'm just waiting on you, artie."

"patrick." his voice is sharp and angry, taut with tension. patrick turns to look over at his boyfriend, eyes rimmed red. "i just- it feels wrong. that's our bar, and now we're- what, terrorizing it?"

patrick sighs, exhaling smoke. when art got like this, it took him a while to calm him down. "listen. bars serve food. and we still deserve to eat. think of it like that," he reasons poorly, tapping ashes onto the sidewalk. "besides, we're not terrorizing it. who says we're not just looking for a little love tonight?" he asks rhetorically, lips curving up in a smirk when he sees the frustration in art's eyes.

they enter the bar, which is loud and noisy, the tables are sticky and the corners dusty. no one pays any attention to them, despite how odd they are in their dark attire. they split to separate sides of the bar like always, flirting up a storm and seeing who can lure in some prey first. art's got a pretty blonde on his lap, and he's sipping at his drink every two seconds to stop himself from just going feral and tearing into her. across the bar, patrick's got an older man, whispering into his ear and biting at his earlobe, drawing blood- just the slightest bit to get him craving more.

they've both got willpower- art being able to stop himself from sinking his teeth in then and there, but patrick's able to taste blood and still keep up the charade. it's patrick who wins first, leading the other man outside by the hip with a promise of cigarettes and sex. he brushes past art and his little blonde girl, and he rushes to scramble out of his seat, whimpering a quiet apology as he grabs his jacket and follows patrick at a distance.

art's never felt so hungry in his life than in that moment, hunched in the shadows of a dark alleyway and watching patrick kissing and licking up that man's neck, hunger obvious in his frantic movements. patrick's unbuttoning the man's shirt, revealing his collarbones to the glowy moonlight. patrick's always said that blood tastes best from the chest. art's more keen to the jugular himself, a classic. patrick's movements are frenzied and desperate, eyes shining with delight as he kisses down the man's neck, pressing his palm against the man's mouth to prevent him from screaming and gleefully sinking his teeth in past the juicy flesh and cartilage.

the man let out a muffled yell, pushing against patrick harshly as patrick's lips stayed glued to his neck, blood beginning to trickle down his chin. after enough time, the man stopped fighting, his body crashing limp against patrick, who withdraws his fangs to dart his tongue out, licking up drops of blood. he looks around, setting the man down to lay on the ground.

"art." it's a demand. it's patrick needing to share this meal with his lover- because he got the first taste, but only art can get the first bite. art shuffles out from his hiding spot, watching as patrick wipes the blood from his chin and grins at him.

"fresh meat," he says, his voice low and sultry, and art just wants to sob. he can hear the jukebox playing from inside the bar, something old and upbeat that he can remember from a few months ago downing shots with patrick before they had turned. and now he was back here, still with patrick, but under entirely different circumstances, and he just wanted to throw up-

"art. get over here." his voice his sharper now, eyes narrowed. his fangs are glinting dangerously in the moonlight, and art can tell he's close to just giving up and tearing into the body. it's only his love for art that's holding him back, barely restraining him.

art moves closer, kneeling down next to the man and dragging a hand down his cheek. his skin is cold and pale, and art tries to ignore the mess of blood and flesh that lays just below the neck. "what was his name?"

patrick growls, loud and angry. "i don't know. i don't fucking care. just- just fucking eat, art," he hisses, kneeling next to art and gripping him by the collar, looking him in the eyes. "stop pussyfooting around. you need to fucking eat, or i'll make you." he pushes art's head down, lowering it until his lips are pressed firm against the dead man's throat. art swallows back bile, knowing better than to fight back.

he doesn't want to. he's never wanted to- he didn't even want to turn patrick when that day had arrived, but he knows he has to. art's just disgusted with himself, with the monster he's become and all the hurt he's caused. the song plays louder from inside the bar as tears begin flowing down his cheeks.

patrick's lips are near art's ear, whispering. "feed. please. you can't leave me," he says quietly, pressing a gentle kiss behind art's ear. it's then that art remembers he isn't eating just for himself- he's eating for patrick, too.

art closes his eyes and sinks his teeth in, letting the sweet metallic tang fill his senses. it's like he goes into a trance, just the sound of ripping skin and groans of pleasure. when he comes to, it's just a soggy sack of skin, intestines pooled out onto the concrete and bones laying neatly in a pile. it's just the man's heart laying on the ground, and patrick picks it up solemnly.

his face is splattered with blood and innards, but he's never looked happier. he holds the heart up to art, blood smearing his hands. "i love you," he whispers, and tentatively, art reaches a hand out to touch the organ. it's warm and slick, and art can imagine his own, beating and thrumming with his each and every movement. he wipes the blood off his face, nodding back at patrick.

"i love you too."

#charlie's writing #charlie's asks #art donaldson #patrick zweig #artrick #vampire au #vampire!artrick #challengers #challengers writing #challengers au

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