ONE OF THE DAMNED GIRLS PT.1 (P.SH)
Moving to a city with wild nights and charming days felt like the perfect choice in your head upon finishing college. Hours away from home, you accept a job at a local museum ironically placed dead between a large historic cathedral and a booming gothic nightclub. You were meant to curate the art, not be curated yourself by a local priest who found you with buckled knees outside of said goth club.
― part two here!! | MINORS DNI
PAIRING ― vampire park sunghoon x afab reader
WORDCOUNT ― 20.4k
CONTENT ― modern vampire sunghoon, cathedral/chapel settings, blasphemous behavior, false holy facades, the main vampire trope i use is the act of drinking blood, luring, and living forever, heavy manipulation and toxic behaviors, mentions of reader being alt/goth
SIDE CHARACTERS― jungwon as your very very best friend who has an installation at the museum (you guys are attached at the hip), jay as the hot bisexual bartender at the goth club, some goth guy named balor
!WARNINGS! ― dubious consent (due to the act of mind manipulation), hunting and playing victim, a lot of blood: blood sucking, wounds/puncturing, menstruation in a sexual light, manipulation, near-death experiences, fainting, talk of death, acts of mind control/luring
NOTE ― here is part one of the first vampire fic i've ever felt compelled to write in my life. shout out to me, myself, and i for being entirely deranged and coming up with on a whim based on a song a lovely anon sent to me. this is semi-proof read, and does require two parts to get the full story.
tags under cut
smut tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic] ― big meat sunghoon, biting, A LOT OF BLOOD, sucking and drinking of blood obv, pussy eating (once while reader is menstruating, and another time where she isn’t), deep penetration, rough sex, unprotected sex bc like…he’s dead so lmfao, missionary, scratching, dirty talk, body worship, praise, jungwon is involved in a bit of an erotic situation but there is not smut involving him,
other tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic]― depictions of death, anti-religious language, the act of dying including intense descriptions of the feeling, mentions of pimping and human trafficking, corrupt government, dead nuns, funerals
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Upon moving to this city, all you have in your mind is the future. Of what could possibly come of you here? The museum is truly beautiful, propped in the center of the historic district, a mere ten or so blocks from your newly renovated apartment.
Years worth of study has led you here and honestly you’re sure you never would have found this city as lovable as it is if it weren’t for those credit hours you poured into art history and architecture. Truly, you feel at home here. Especially working within the historic district at that beautiful museum.
The rest of the city is quite modern. A bit boring to look at if you’re being honest but, thankfully, your place of work offers much for the eye to devour. The museum itself is quite victorian, with rococo styling throughout. Many could call this an eye sore, but you find yourself loving every inch of the place. You feel like a willow wisp in the clutches of that museum, and honestly you’re more than excited to grow bored of seeing such beauty on a day to day basis.
Across the street sits another old building, also victorian in style. The large and tacky sign glowing with neon lights that reads “AFTER LIFE” goes to show that it’s very clearly a club. And the attire of those who go to and fro through the doors only further proves that it’s more than just that. It’s a goth club.
Which, arguably, high-school you would’ve died to be able to attend. Thankfully, that little goth girl inside of you still lives strong and surely the club will be a place you’ll frequent during your free time. It’s not too hard to dress the part considering you are an art loser. The majority of your clothing consists of black, colored hair, and wild make up anyway. All you gotta do is forego the ratty coveralls or the typical business quirky you go for at work and you’re good to go.
Last but not least regarding the charm of the historic district, your favorite site. One that is so profound to you and likely everyone else who visits this town mostly because, well, there isn’t much mention of it on any website regarding the city. In fact, you weren’t aware that such a place existed here until the day you came to view your apartment for the first time.
Seeing it loom from the apartment window very nearly had you sign the lease without so much as looking at the cabinet space or the bathroom setup.
No, nothing in that historic district, absolutely nothing in this city, rivals that of the cathedral that towers above both the club and museum.
There, parked just three blocks down from your place of work, sits the cathedral. Clearly old but well maintained, you can just tell that the building has seen more than enough through the passing decades. The arches are pointed and towering, and the flying buttresses only further your heart to beat with love and admiration for what men could build at one point in time.
You’ll never understand why the preferred style these days consists of primary shapes, anyway. Boxes, cones, spheres. Never twisting hallways or nooks and crannies to hide in. You miss the depth of which buildings used to be. Inside practically a maze, outside a wondrous presentation of knife-sharp features. So intricate, so many lines to trace.
What a shame to find yourself living in a space that’s a mish-mash of perfect boxes, but it’s not so bad when the window offers a daydream, at least.
You’re in love each time you gaze upon the building, actually. It’s a forever reminder that no human being on this earth could make you feel such excitement. Perhaps you’re just a nerd for gothic architecture though. Honestly, it’s a shame that this cathedral seems to be a forgotten gem despite how it’s blatantly visible at almost any view point in the city.
Fortunately for you, this only goes to show that the historic district is just that. There for those who admire, and not for those who gawk. There seems to be rarely any stray humans making their way down this street without at least an inkling of interest in the ancient life that’s been breathed here.
If anything, the streets are filled with what you can assume to be open-minded individuals. Your first day at work showed that much. Tattooed bodies, pierced faces, wild hair, even wilder attire. Yes, you feel right at home.
And despite the excitement of living in a new city where you seem to fit like a puzzle piece, life can still grow boring after a certain amount of time has passed. For you, it’s taken about three weeks of training, well-slept nights, and cozy days.
Even through the summer, the nights still have a chill in the air. Which is nice but even your night-time walks have become an auto-pilot task that offers nothing new to your forever hungry brain. So, with the weekend fast approaching, you figure there’s no better time than now to dust off those hot platform boots you bought on a whim years ago and have yet to wear.
You’re going to the booming “after life”.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Well.
“After life” is certainly a perfect name for the club if the intensity of the drinks alone is anything to go by. Inside is adorned with stark black walls and silver trim, loads upon loads of purple and red curtains, women and men near-nude wrapped in straps and chains.
It only took two drinks to see the black painted walls as a beautiful void in space with wonderful dancing bodies falling into it. You can’t stop smiling through the warmth in your cheeks and dancing to deep bass with husky voiced music. Your arms stay in the air as you dance, and you welcome any dancing partner up until your third drink.
God, the drinks are strong. Or perhaps it’s just the specific drink you’ve grown partial to. One they call “Red Death”, which according to the handsome bartender, was quite popular in the 90s. You see exactly why it was so popular, considering it basically hit you like a fucking truck in the middle of this club and has you stumbling out the front door without so much as remembering why your feet are moving in the first place.
Unsure of how much time has passed since you got here, you nearly forget the extra five inches under your feet as you stumble your way through the heavy doors in front of the club. A kind bouncer with the whites of his eyes tattooed helps you with your balance as you step out, chuckling and noting that you’re definitely new here.
His strong hold on you is kind and gentle compared to the bouncers outside of the clubs back home, and despite how drunk you are, you still feel as safe as you do inside of your own apartment when he gives you a small “woah there.”
Thankfully, he keeps to himself after helping you regain balance, once again unlike most bouncers at clubs. You’re left to your own drunken plans now as you wobble around the building in search of a bench to sit on and sober up. Thankfully, that very bench is found sitting lonely on the backside of the building. You can still hear the muffled music from inside, but you’re currently spinning and able to hear just about anything, you think.
You hear your ass thump to the ground when you try to take a seat, missing the bench completely and falling a full two feet with your head hitting the bricked wall behind you.
Honestly, all you can do is laugh at yourself as you hold your head. The fall didn’t hurt, and thank fuck no one is around to have witnessed that from you. To think your senses are enhanced at this moment is quite a feat, considering you were so focused on hearing everything that you completely forgot to determine which of the two benches in your drunken vision was the real one.
And as you accept your seat on the ground as the space you’ll sober up in, your senses prove yet again to at least be slightly more amplified than usual.
A heavy scent of cinnamon wafts through your nose as you breathe in the brisk summer air and immediately you try to adjust your eyes to whatever the scent is coming from. Or, whoever.
Then, a cold hand on your shoulder. You didn’t even see him before smelling or feeling him, but somehow, your vision adjusts immediately as if you’re not drunk at all.
In fact, looking at the man is entirely sobering.
“Child, temptation has you by the throat.”
“I’m no child.” You scoff at the voice reaching your ears, frustrated as you try to chase the fizzling drunk feeling. A waste of money, you could say, to lose the dizzy feeling so fucking fast.
The man stands in front of you, clad in black, offering a gentle smile.
You can imagine you look a mess, sitting on the ground outside of a night club, but that should be expected you’d think.
“It’s a figure of speech.” The man shrugs with a chuckle. “Now, now. Allow me to help you, my dear, you are in no shape to be left to your own devices.”
You look up at him, noting that the man appears to be a priest. What kind of priest wanders around goth clubs this time of the night?
Then again, you don’t even know what time it is. What you do know is that you’re nearly entirely sober now for some fucking reason, and you absolutely can be left to your own devices.
“No, I’m fine. I don’t live too far.” You shake your head at him, but he pulls you up anyway.
Oh, a rush of woozy nausea. Your ankles buckle immediately upon trying to stand and the man simply keeps his smile aimed at you.
“My conscience will not allow me to leave you be.” He says, taking your arm and leading you further down the street.
You’re unsure as to why you don’t fight him on it now. There’s a feeling in your body that tells you to go with him, and who are you to fight it?
Strangely enough, your eyes sparkle as he leads you straight to that very cathedral that floods your thoughts on most weekdays during work. So big, so beautiful, so otherworldly to see so closely.
You stare up at the towering building even as he helps you through the doors, and then your eyes immediately adjust to the vaulted ceilings and darkened stained glass windows with only the moonlight shining through.
God, it’s more beautiful inside.
You’re entirely mesmerized by the building, blinking up at every inch of the walls and ceiling. It’s pristine inside compared to the outside, and the floors shine so beautifully even in the low-light. Your boots stomp with each step against the well-maintained floors, to the point you can feel the vibrations running from your toes to the top of your head.
You can feel your skin tighten at the viewing experience, every hair on your body raising in euphoria, pupils growing wide and dark. You smile, feeling your face flush as if you’ve got a man between your legs. There is no man though though, no. Just big arches and echoed footsteps.
It’s simply too beautiful to comprehend with a semi-drunken brain for the first time.
The man saunters through the building with you in tow a bit too quickly than you’d prefer though. You try to soak in the image of the main chapel before he leads you away from it, and thankfully you caught a decent look at the gold and silver adornments surrounding a centered altar. The figure within the altar didn’t quite get more than a glance, but you could have sworn it was no religious figure that you know the name of.
And then, within three blinks, you’re in a corridor where whispering nuns look on. Their voices sound high-pitched even in a whisper but it slows your heart rate down to that of near sleep. Drowsiness overtakes you as you blink out of sync, barely able to comprehend that you should be at home rather than in this wondrous and magnificent building with a strange priest.
Still, even as the corridor grows less and less extravagant, where the stomping of your boots on the floor turns to that of breaking up dust and weighing down creaking wood, you find it all the more beautiful behind your heavy-lidded eyes.
The deeper into the cathedral you go, the older it becomes. Where electricity turns to candles, and then candles turn to pure moonlight shining through stained glass windows.
Even up the spiraling concrete stairs, you feel your feet carry you more than the priest with his back turned to you. He wouldn’t need to lead you through this building at all, as the feeling in your gut would likely have you explore the place inch by inch if you were given the permission.
Still, even while your mind is sober but your body is drunk, you find it hard to believe that people still reside here. Never once seeing anyone come from the cathedral since being in this city. And trust, you have honestly stared at it day after day during work.
That means nothing to you now though, considering you’re inside the building, being led to a small room for sleep where your sleepy eyes devour the small bed against the wall.
The man who led you here lends no more words or thoughts to you as he steps inside, presents the room to you, and then quickly leaves with that same smile he gave you outside of the club.
A nun replaces him with light and silent footsteps, running past you to fluff the flattened pillow on the bed. Another came in behind her with a small bowl of crackers and a glass of water. She holds out the bowl and glass, urging you to take them from her.
Naturally, you do. Popping a cracker into your mouth and instantly feeling it soak up any saliva in your mouth, leaving it feeling dry and sore before you sip the water. And with a nod from the two nuns, they leave you be.
This room appears to be that for refuge, surely for those the church takes in when they’re in need of a warm bed and some food.
You smile, saying nothing as you sit down on the bed and place the glass and bowl on the small ledge by the window. There, you take off your boots and flop back without so much as sinking under the thin covers, and you fall asleep as if there’s nowhere else on this earth you’d rather be.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
The sun feels warm against your face when you stir from your slumber. Your eyes feel heavy though, so you simply lay here and breathe in the strange heavy air. Your eyebrows furrow at the feeling of the bed beneath you. Stiff, hard, uncomfortable. Clearly, you’re not at home.
And, well, that’s when the happenings of last night dawn on you. You can barely comprehend what the helpful priest looked like, better yet how long it took for your feet to carry you to this room.
When you open your eyes and squint to look out of the stained window, most of the city is distorted through the tinted colors, but you can tell that you’re quite high up in the building. Then again, the throbbing in your feet could have probably told you that.
Still, sitting in this bed now feels much more uncomfortable than it did when you initially laid down. Your head pounds as you pinch the bridge of your nose, squinting around the room and trying to grasp your memory.
The only thing you remember is the cold hand that guided you here and every beautiful inch of the cathedral. Which can only mean, you have no fucking idea how to get out of here.
Oh, the horror and embarrassment of needing to search for someone to help you leave feels unfamiliar and uncomfortable. Surely, if you’re silent with your feet, you can search the halls until you manage to find a back door, right? At least the route would be scenic and interesting if you can manage it.
And, well, you do try. Searching for a staircase the moment you leave your room simply because you know that the only way home is down at least a hundred steps. Strangely enough, your instincts seem to know exactly where to go.
Somehow.
Your socked feet carry you straight downstairs and to the main cathedral. You weren’t necessarily expecting to find a room full of people upon entering the space either. After all, if it were Sunday perhaps you’d have to drag your hungover ass past a crowd participating in Sunday mass.
Despite never seeing a soul enter this cathedral save for yourself and that priest.
Weird, there are a few people with bowed heads sitting in the pews of the main chapel. All appear to be clad in black and gold, one or two others with silver. Not entirely cloaked but still incredibly eerie from behind as you look on with each silent foot step.
And suddenly, your body freezes.
There, at the center of the altar stands a stoic man. Posture so straight you could argue he is nothing but an ancient statue. Behind him, you note that there is an actual statue of a figure standing much the same, far too distant to make out the face of.
Only for a moment do you recall glancing at the statue from the night before, noting how it resembled no god nor deity that you’re aware of. It doesn’t even resemble a human the longer you stare at it, actually.
Ah. Yes. The vibes in this cathedral are off. From your feet somehow knowing the place as if it’s your own home to the silent chapel bowing their heads to an even more silent man standing frozen in the center. If at all, you feel like you’ve been caught in a photo, stuck with your feet on this single tile with the front doors just out of your reach.
That is, until one of those whispering nuns makes her way to you, tapping your shoulder with a nod and a very quiet, “Shall I see you out?”
And she does, opening the large doors for you and closing them behind you without so much as a sound.
Strange, because you remember the echo of those doors closing from the night before. But whatever, you guess, as you’re assaulted with the bright afternoon sun forcing your eyes to tear up.
You take a step through the flash-bang of summer air, slowly adjusting your eyesight to the very museum you work at. Bustling with your co-workers who are made to work this weekend, you try to avoid being seen. After all, as a new employee, the last thing you need is to be perceived as a hungover mess while walking out of that weird fucking cathedral with nothing more than socked feet and a pair of stompers held against your chest.
And so, you make the short trek home, thankful for the walkable city but entirely unthankful for the charming weather your realtor promised for this time of the year. It’s fresher than you’d like for it to be outside today, the warm sun keeping you at a perfect temperature while the cold breeze offers a shiver here and there.
You’re not sure why it pisses you off. It’s probably the headache that only pounds harder and harder with each step you take.
Finally, you make it to your apartment. You feel cold when you step inside the lobby and make your way up. Somehow you feel even colder when find yourself at the window, gazing at the same cathedral you just spent the night in, looking hazy in the afternoon sun.
It looms there in the city, with its elder rooted walls and pointed arches. Still so beautiful, still so mysterious, still so fucking luring.
Even after sleeping there, and even after you felt the vibrations inside skew your comfort, it stands out not only in the city, but in your brain. With the modern city only forcing it to stick out like a sore thumb, you can argue that the city could be just as old and still that cathedral would offer a shiver down your spine.
Your head pulses at the sunlight shining through your window, forcing your eyes from the darkened haunt, and you’re quick to make your way to the kitchen to rummage for something to help with the headache.
And by the time you flop down on your couch, you drift back to sleep, realizing that you’re not entirely sure if you slept at all the night before. Despite waking up, despite not remembering a thing from after you laid down, and despite feeling rejuvenated in every aspect aside from sleep.
That rejuvenation strangely drains you more as you drift to sleep, finding it so unnatural that you willingly slept in a maze filled with no face you can put a name to.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Making your first friend feels good. Weeks worth of pretending and hoping you and your co-workers would somehow become besties outside of the museum walls fell short, after all. Not that you don’t consider them friends, it’s more so just the fact that they’re all a bit too stoic and up-tight for you.
You’re quite a bit younger as well. You can tell that they lost their spark for creating art years ago, if they ever even created it in the first place, anyway. It’s all just curating, curating, curating for them. An eye for beauty only, which is respected and appreciated but still, no eye for fun outside of these walls though.
That’s where Jungwon comes in. A young artist with first-installation jitters dimpling his cheeks as he offers the smallest “hello” that you think you’ve ever heard from another person.
He’s similar to you in the way he dresses. He works hard, amazing you with each piece of his collection that’s pulled from a tightly packed box, filled with bubble wrap and slammed with “FRAGILE” stickers.
Arguably, you don’t need to be friends with your co-workers when you have artists like him coming in and out every few months. He’s quite lively, very excited, and almost clumsy in the way he carries himself.
You were endeared with him the moment you met him and honestly just three days in, the two of you are practically attached at the hip as you push and work hard alongside him to set up the installation as perfectly as possible for the following weekend.
And, well, the first showing went off without a hitch. His smiling face could have been seen for miles, you think, as you watch him mingle and blush at each compliment and critique of his work.
So bright.
So full of life.
The exact person you’d want to be around.
“Jungwon–” You elbow him in the side as he nods and shakes hands through each farewell while the museum comes to its close for the night. “It’s Friday.” You smile.
He nods you off, paying close attention to each face that came to visit his work. And only when the halls are empty does he make his way back to you with a deep exhale and a loud, relieved groan.
“Finally.” He huffs, blowing a strand of his hair up and into the air. “Just fifty nine more days to go.”
You roll your eyes fondly at him already counting down until the two of you are scheduled to take down his work.
“You do know you only need to be here for opening night, right?” You laugh.
“Well, yeah.” He shrugs. “But it’s my first installation, I worry some kid will come wipe his snotty nose all over my hard work.”
You chuckle, he chuckles, and then you turn to face him.
“So, it’s Friday.”
He bounces on his feet.
“Yeah, glad to see you seem to grasp the idea of fleeting time and whatnot.” He looks at you with a mischievous smile. “What about it?”
“We should go out. The club across the street has really strong drinks for half the price as most places.”
You watch as Jungwon’s eyes shine when they flick behind you to glance out the window. Then his face falls, his eyebrow raises, and he tilts his head.
“You do realize we’ve been here for like, eighteen hours straight, right?”
You nod casually with a shrug.
“I live super close by, if we get tired, you can just crash on my couch.”
He pretends like he thinks it over for more than two seconds before ultimately accepting the offer of fun.
“Cool. Wanna meet me there in an hour? I should probably change and stuff first.”
You eye over his outfit, and then give yourself a quick glance.
“Good plan.” You smile, backing away and throwing your bag over your shoulder. “An hour. Be there.”
You both nod in agreement and go your separate ways. Sleepy, but entirely willing to celebrate Jungwon’s huge accomplishment with drinks that have already proven to be too strong.
The hour passes quickly, wearing that same pair of boots for a second time now that you have the perfect place and reason to stomp around in them. This time, you even go as far as darkening your lips and smearing your mascara just a smidge. After all, you’re definitely gonna get drunk and your makeup will be smeared by the end of the night regardless.
You gasp upon seeing Jungwon’s chosen attire, offering him an “Ooooh” the second you walk up to him. He had been leaning against the front doors of the museum, as if he’s simply an on looker and not a working artist with a top-notch showcase within those walls.
He lends you a matching “Ahhhh” upon seeing your chosen outfit. Both of you somehow match in a way that makes this appear more like a date night rather than friends getting drinks. Which is kind of cute and a welcomed idea if the two of you have one to many and accidentally start making out or something.
It feels platonic enough to laugh off in the morning, anyway. And really, while his boots don’t lend him extra height, he stomps around in them much like you do your own. With his black knit sweater littered in frays and pulled yarn, and his hair intentionally messed up.
“Wonnie,” You offer the nickname easily as you grab onto his arm and check the street for cars before beginning to cross. “I think some eyeliner could finish off your look.” You laugh as the two of you practically prance with heavy boots to the club.
He smiles at the nickname, hiding his face only slightly in his sweater when he blinks back at you with sparkly eyes.
“Really?” He smiles, dimples on full display for the tattooed bodies lined up outside, already checking out the artist.
“Yeah, oh–” You huff, digging in your small shoulder bag. “I have some, let’s do the finishing touch.”
And when the two of you stand at the back of the line, you do just that. Carefully holding his cheek in one hand and lining the lower lashes on his left eye.
He doesn’t even close his eyes, and instead looks up into the night sky with that same dimple showing. Blinking every few seconds at the sensitivity, ignoring the fact that his eyes start to prickle at the feeling.
“It tickles,” He chuckles in a hushed whisper, never having a friend be so close to his face like this before. “How do you manage to do this every day?”
“I guess you just get used to it after a while.” You focus on the way the darkened color brings his eye to seem more catty than it already was, taking your thumb and swiping the bottom lid to smear the charcoal makeup.
You note how innocent and shining his other eye looks compared. Nevertheless, you go to rest your hand on his other cheek now.
Just for a moment, his eyes flash down to look at you. So, so close to his face. Instantly, you lend him a pause and your own smile.
“You’re blushing.” You laugh, holding your hand steady in wait as he shifts his weight to the other leg out of natural nervousness.
“Sorry,” He whispers out, blinking frantically to prepare for his other eye to tickle. “I’m not used to being this close to someone.”
Ah, you don’t believe that for a second.
“Look up.” You instruct, already lining his other lashes. “Feels like I’m putting the finishing touches to a masterpiece.” You add in a lame chuckle, feeling a little flustered yourself the more you note how his eyes water at the tickle. They shine so pretty.
He laughs out at your comment, a hand shooting to your wrist as you smear the liner on him. Not to be intimate or anything, just simply to steady your hand more.
“I guess I am kinda the canvas like this, huh?” He comments, standing as still as he can while looking up at the moon. “Hey–”
“Hm?” You say, pulling your hand back now and doing the same with your thumb to smear the make up into perfection on his flawless little face.
“What kind of gum is that?” He asks, blinking a few times before adjusting his eyes properly and pretending like he can’t feel the waxy substance caked on his lashes.
“Just regular spearmint.” You give him a half smile. “Why, you want a piece?”
He nods, mostly because if he had known you were going to get this close to his face, he probably would have already had some type of candy in his mouth.
Again, it’s not like he has feelings or anything. It’s just, well, it’s always intimate to have someone so close to you. In your space. Your bubble. No one ever gets that close unless they want to kiss. Or, he guesses, if they’re putting eyeliner on you.
“You look really cute,” You comment now, stepping back after giving him a piece of gum and looking over how the smeared makeup really does complete his look. “Should’ve brought one of my chokers too. Now that, yeah.”
“Huh?” He tilts his head as the two of you move up the line. “You’re really into this kind of scene aren’t you?”
You nod shyly.
“Was a total mall goth back when I was a teenager. I would’ve stalked you around the mall if you looked like this back then, really. Totally my type.”
He lends a bashful blink and a half-hearted laugh, stuffing his hands into his pockets and looking to the ground.
“Well, when I was a teenager I looked like the person who invented calculus.”
“And now you’re just a little work of art, huh?” You continue the cringey art-jokes, mostly because you like the way he tries to pretend they’re funny rather than utterly horrifying.
And he does smile at it, ears flowing with heat as he blushes. He probably wouldn’t feel so shy if it weren’t for the fact that he also heard compliments all day about his art. He’s a bit sensitive right now.
“I guess so.” He accepts your compliment like all the others, lifting his shoulder to his cheek with a squinted eye. It’s nice to feel like the world’s favorite person for a night, truly.
And the conversation is even easier from here on out. Albeit, a bit flirty but it stills platonic enough to where the two of you are just…in a comfortable little bubble surrounded by faces you don’t know. Perhaps playing the part of being two individuals who came to a club together rather than separately and alone.
As the hours pass, there are several strangers approaching the two of you. Words of “need a third?” and “well aren’t you two just fucking perfect?”
Jungwon basks in it, snickering quietly with you but never denying a single accusation. The two of you play along. Drinking, dancing, and then more drinking. Up until Jungwon decides he’s held his bladder long enough and is off in search of a bathroom while you make your way to the bar.
For more drinks, of course. Not to hit on the bartender you met the first time you came here.
“Another red death?” The man with inky red hair smiles at you, already grabbing a glass and starting your drink.
“Yes but, can I actually–” You pause, glancing at the other man behind the bar.
Red haired man laughs knowingly with a nod and a side eye before pointing silently at his co-worker and raising a brow at you.
You nod back, dipping your face only slightly when you see him take two steps back and whisper to the man.
Instantly, you feel a bit more shy over asking to be served by this guy but goddamn. His dark hair looks slightly damp when his eyes glance to you upon whatever is being whispered in his ear, probably from something spewing in his face after being shaken up, or perhaps from sweat.
You try to avoid eye contact under the man’s gaze when he walks over and in front of you. Sharp jaw, silver chain, loose black t-shirt revealing equally as damp collar bones.
God. The shirt is sticking to him.
“Babe, my eyes are up here.” He laughs, holding an empty cup and leaning on the bar towards you. “Had a little too much to drink again?”
You nod, dazed by his dark eyes before immediately shaking your head.
“Red death, please. Two of them.”
The man nods with a knowing smile.
“I saw that you came here with someone.”
He’s flirting. Mostly for tips but it’s not like he hasn’t been known to take people home from work before so, wherever it goes is where it goes for him.
“Jay, can you grab me the-” The red haired bartender says from behind, and Jay, presumably, hands him a bottle without so much as letting him finish the sentence.
“He’s cute.” Jay continues talking to you, enjoying the way you don’t realize how you fold in on yourself. “Any reason as to why you asked me to make your drink?”
“Um, oh,” You were gonna be bold, but you feel Jungwon suddenly clinging to you from behind, eyeing the bartender just like you are. “I just think you make them better.”
“Did he just say I’m cute?” Jungwon whispers behind your ear, watching the man’s hands as he makes the drinks with expert knowledge.
“You’re both cute.” The bartender smirks, looking between both of you and then offering a wink. “This round is on me.” He adds, sliding both cups forward and brushing your hand just for a moment before turning his attention to someone else.
Honestly, it’s like you and Jungwon are the same person at this moment when you grab your drinks and you turn to face each other.
Both of you, bouncing on your feet with whispered squeals over the hot bartender including both of you in the compliment.
“Oh my god.” You stare forward, tasting the drink and noting that there somehow seems to be more alcohol in this one. “He’s so–”
Jungwon nods to you excitedly, sipping his drink quickly before glancing behind you and meeting the eye of the bartender again.
“He was just looking at your ass.” He comments, flipping his body to cling to your arm and now turning his back to Jay “You think he’s gonna check mine out too?”
You nod with a snicker, the song changing and the tempo instantly drowning your thoughts.
“I love this song!” You shout with drunken glee, already making your way from the bar but keeping that little thought that hopefully, Jay will keep glancing at the two of you simply because it’s fun to be watched by a hottie.
And Jungwon just goes with your flow. Dancing with sticky sweet lips, eyes glazed over from the music and mood. His makeup looks more beautiful now paired with strands of his hair sticking to his sweaty forehead.
You don’t think you’ve ever seen dimples so fucking deep before, and it’s almost painful to remember his face without that smile plastered on it.
“Wonnie,” You grab him by the shoulder and pull him against you, ignoring how his hair dips into your drink for a moment. “I think you’re my best friend.”
And the way he pulls back with a gasp, smiling wider? It shatters your heart just so it can grow larger.
“I am?” He does a little bounce through his dance move, eyes shining in the strobe lights, flashes of red and purple shading his cheeks, only deepening those dimples. “Really?”
Never have you enjoyed spending time with someone like this. Never without crushing hard, never without wanting to take them home and fuck them until you can’t walk. Jungwon is different though. He really does feel like a long lost best friend, like the part of you that has been missing for far too long.
The moment you met him, you clicked in a way that didn’t involve a dick or a hole. I mean, sure you’d probably fuck him for funsies but there’s really no point in it because you feel perfectly happy, perfectly fulfilled, just having him spend his free time with you.
Surely when he has to travel back home, you’re going to cry.
“Why do you have to live so far away?” You pause your dancing, making yourself sad at the thought that he will only be here for a few weeks. “Who am I gonna hang out with when you leave?”
Jungwon lends you a pouty sound, a coo, almost.
“I only live an hour away.” He laughs, leaning forward and plastering his sweaty forehead to yours with a slurred shout so you can hear him clearly. “I’ll come see you all the time!”
And with that, the mood seeps right back into your veins as the smile overtakes you.
You dance with him, forehead to forehead for a long, long, while. Up until the club is so crowded with people that Jay couldn’t possibly be paying attention to anything other than making drinks, and you couldn’t possibly pay attention to anything other than the music vibrating the alcohol in your stomach.
It’s almost suffocating, as you feel a pang in your chest of overheated anxiety. You breathe in, smelling the fifth piece of gum that Jungwon slipped from your pocket on his breath. You exhale, smelling your own sweet alcohol breath before pulling back and dragging Jungwon by the hand into the only corner not packed with people.
“You okay?” Jungwon slurs as he sways in front of you, eyes trying their best to seem concerned. “You look like you might get sick.”
You nod, feeling your mouth fill with warm saliva indicating that you should probably go to the bathroom now.
“Okay, lets get you to-”
You cut Jungwon off with an off balance sprint to the bathroom and somehow he keeps pace with you, gripping your shirt and refusing to lose you in the crowd.
Unfortunately, as you press on your stomach to somehow hold down whatever is trying to come up, you notice how there’s a very long line for the bathroom.
And it’s still suffocating in here.
And your mouth tastes too sweet. And the music is too loud.
“Let’s go outside!” Jungwon shouts against your ear, vibrating your brain as he navigates you through the crowd himself, pressing you up against the front doors of the club before pushing you outside with him close behind.
The waft of breezy summer air instantly fills your lungs and your stomach settles at the space you have to yourself now.
You stumble forward, making your way around the same concerned bouncer from before who only smiles at you and Jungwon struggling to find your footing.
And, like the best friend you knew he became, he tries his best to be the sober friend right now. His voice wavers and crackers when he speaks, but his hands are firm on both of your shoulders as he presses you against the wall behind you.
“Stay here.” Jungwon says with concern still in his voice. “I’m gonna run back in and get us some water, okay?”
And you nod in a daze as your eyes follow him when he disappears back inside. You note how he says something to the bouncer before opening the doors, and surely he simply asked that the guy keep an eye on you.
“You should probably eat something soon, sweetheart.” The kind bouncer comments to you in the night air, stepping closer to you and standing just against the wall next to you.
You feel protected by him, so there are no alarm bells ringing.
“You know I can’t let you back in, right?” He chuckles as he speaks to you calmly.
“Oh, I bet.” You laugh, breathing in the air again and again, still not regretting the fun you’ve had for the past few hours. “Just gonna sit here and wait for Wonnie, he’ll help me get home.”
“Good, good.” The bouncer confirms your words, still standing protective next to you when you hear the doors fly open and a few seconds of booming music before it’s muffled again.
Jungwon flops down in front of you on the sidewalk now, two water bottles in hand with a smile on his face.
“Jay gave me these.” He smiles. “He said if we can handle waiting til closing time he can drive us home.”
You laugh sheepishly. Unfortunately, you’re a bit too drunk and you know you probably wont make it another hour and a half with an additional however much time it’ll take for him to close up the club before needing to pass the fuck out.
“I think I’ll have to take him up on that next time.” You slur your words. “You’ll help me walk home right, Wonnie? It’s a short walk.”
Jungwon nods, still doing his best to act as sober as he can, but the bouncer shuts him down fast.
“Oh, I don’t think so buddy.” The bouncer laughs. “You’re both fucked out of your mind.”
You laugh, Jungwon laughs, and the bouncer throws in his own hearty sigh.
“Fuck–” You have a sudden, sober thought. “The tab. Jungwon, did we pay the tab?”
He pauses, eyes widening.
“Shit.” He explains before jumping up on unsteady feet. “Can you help her call for a ride?” He slurs out at the bouncer, only disappearing inside again when the kind goth nods at the request.
And as you sit here in the silence after the bouncer helps you order a ride, a few minutes pass. Your eyes are out of focus as you stare up into the night sky before closing them.
You could fall asleep right here on the sidewalk if you’re not careful.
Another few minutes pass, now a loud slam of the doors rings in your tired ears now and you jolt out of the drowsy state, opening your eyes thinking you’ll find Jungwon rushing to you but instead, you note how suddenly you’re entirely alone.
You don’t know how long you’ve sat here, or where the bouncer went, better yet why Jungwon isn’t back yet but what you do know is that suddenly, you’re mind is sober and fucking assaulted by the smell of cinnamon.
You glance around, trying to focus on the scent and where it’s coming from when– oh.
There, walking down the sidewalk is that fucking priest from before. Tall, clad yet again in black clothes, and he simply pauses his step in front of you.
“Again?” The man calls out to you with an amused voice, lending you his hand, but you don’t take it.
Instead, the doors suddenly fly open and Jungwon stumbles out again, nearly tripping over his own feet with an apology of “sorry, jay was trying to convince us to–”
“Uh, hi?” Jungwon interrupts himself as he takes note of the man standing in front of you. “The fuck are you?” He checks the man out, not quite able to focus on him in full.
The priest nods his head at both of you, staring Jungwon up and down before landing his eyes back on you.
“Get her home safe.” He says nothing else before continuing his nightly stroll.
And, well, you do get home safe.
You and Jungwon are a mess of limbs in the short ride to your apartment, and an even messier pile of idiots by the time you make it inside. The couch is long forgotten by the time you close your front door, feeling Jungwon follow you all the way to your plush bed with drunken groans and giggles.
There, you flop onto the bed fully clothed without so much as a happy “goodnight” and you’re both drifting off to sleep. Jungwon’s heavy limbs are thrown on you as he loosely spoons you. Like he’s still trying to take care of you despite the fact that you no longer feel sick, and you’re both perfectly safe behind your apartment walls.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Have you no shame?
Fuck no.
What about Jungwon? Nah.
Both of you have a pep in your step by the next Friday, waiting for the museum to close so Jungwon can walk home with you and get all dressed up and ready for another fall into the infamous “after life”.
“We should try to stay until closing, maybe Jay will bring us home this time.” Jungwon wiggles his eyebrows as you put his eyeliner on for him again.
“We’re gonna have to look real good then, yeah?” You smile at his pretty smeared eyes, reaching your hand up and ruffling his hair.
And you do. Both of you dress up in the darkest, blackest, sexiest fit you can find in your closet. Jungwon is sporting one of your pretty, sheer lace undershirts beneath his own unbuttoned black cardigan, pants tight and low on his waist.
You, with another semi-transparent shirt. Sheer, showing all the goods if you hadn’t put on a nice fitting bralette under it. Cute skirt that shows your thighs, the stompers, of course.
And the finishing touch this time? Matching chokers.
“Cute.” You comment, leaning forward and popping a minty kiss to the tip of Jungwon’s nose.
“You too.” He smiles, pinching your waist before turning to face your vanity mirror and checking himself out.
Cute is right. Jay’s probably gonna fall to the floor when he gets a look at the two of you.
And, well. The night is a blur.
Jay does, in fact, eye the two of you with that sharp smirk like he did last weekend but you, unfortunately, drink far too much yet again.
Jungwon slowed down a bit towards midnight but he kept an eye on you for the most part. Trying to secure the ride for both of you by orbiting around the bar and making flirty talk with both bartenders when time allowed it.
You stayed on the dance floor through it. Sometimes dancing with Jungwon when he comes up behind you with clingy hands and updates on the Jay situation, but after a few songs he’d wander off again.
It’s nice, kind of. Having someone with you that can maintain control through your own drunken stupidity. You don’t mind dancing alone, after all, you’re not entirely alone giving the pretty men and girls who come by to dance with you every other song when Jungwon isn’t around.
And of course, around the same time as last time, you find your mind feeling suffocated by the time the club is at capacity.
You sway on the dance floor in search of Jungwon, unsure of which way the bar is because your eyes simply can’t adjust to the darkness and flashing lights by this point.
Dimples. You need to find the sunshine face in this void of darkness.
And you search.
And search.
Until you’re stumbling out the front doors alone, knowing that if Jungwon is looking for you, he’ll probably know you stepped out to breathe at some point.
Just like the week before, the crip summer air outside instantly settles your stomach and breathing comes easier. You feel more sober than you thought you were as you sit here, making small talk with the bouncer who finally introduces himself to you.
“That’s a good name for a big goth teddy bear.” You mock the man. “Balor.”
“In the flesh.” The man waves you off.
And then, suddenly, the bouncer is stepping closer to you with a stiffened shoulder, the air outside shifting to something else for him, but you’re completely unaware of it.
“I need to step inside for a moment, will you be alright for a few minutes?” He knows he shouldn’t step inside, but in all fairness, it’s kind of the protocol at this point.
Considering that man has made himself very clear that if he’s near the club at all, it’s for good reason and he’s not to be interrupted. At least, that’s what code is for the bouncers here at this club.
It’s a shame though, to know he has to leave you to the night. You’re a fun girl, peppy and sweet, not rude or hard to make small talk with on the long nights of work. Maybe you drink a little too much, but still. It’s not like the bouncer knows why he is to leave the sidewalk when a certain someone wanders by. What he does know is that more often than not, he’ll sink away inside only to resume his position alone, with no one left on the sidewalk.
Probably just a pimp.
Or human trafficking.
He isn’t sure, but time and time again he has been told to leave it be. That it’s nothing wretched. That it’s simply a territory that isn’t their own.
Still, you nod to the bouncer.
“If you see Wonnie, can you scold him for letting me get lost?”
You miss the look of concern on the bouncer’s face.
“Hey, come back inside, I’ll help you find him.”
“Oh, hello again.” A voice echoes from around the corner, causing the bouncer’s shoulders to fall as he immediately offers you a small “I'll find him–” before disappearing behind the heavy doors with haste.
And then, cinnamon. The spicy scent wafting through you so fast that you’re almost dizzy.
More dizzy than you already were, anyway.
“Have you learned nothing?” The priest walks up to you, chuckling and raising his eyebrows.
“Weird ass priest.” You say, paying no mind to the happenings of just now, totally unaware of the energy surrounding you.
“And to what god do you believe I pray?” He tilts his head as he stands in front of you, hands behind his back, leaning down at the waist to position his face in front of yours.
The question makes you look up at him with a skewed brow.
“The usual one?” You ask, rolling your eyes at the silly meeting.
Again.
A third meeting.
“Ah, the usual one.” He mocks, nodding his head before standing back up and towering over you. “Do you seek him out?”
You nod momentarily, having never been religious but at this moment, as drunk as you are and as alone as you feel with this strange man, only god could answer your curious question as to why you keep meeting him.
As to why you’re always all on your own when he appears.
As to why he forces a hope in your mind that god is really out there, and he’ll protect you when the bouncer isn’t here.
“Was that a nod?” He smiles at you, landing a cold hand on your shoulder.
“Yes,” You whisper out, feeling heavy and more and more dizzy by the moment. Not from the alcohol but from something else. “Do you know where I can find him?”
Your voice calls out on its own to him. You don’t recall wanting to ask him that, nor do you recall even thinking those words before saying them.
“He’s right here, love–” The priest pulls back, presenting the space in front of him before turning his hands inward and presenting himself to you. “I am God.”
You freeze, a rush of cold running through your veins. Surely you’re hearing him wrong despite that voice echoing those words in your head three, four, five, six times.
“Isn’t that considered blasphemy?” You try to play it off in a joke, hiding the chill down your spine.
Pretending you’re not interested.
Wondering why it is that you are, actually.
“Perhaps on any other street.” He confirms for you, now crouching down and showing his face plainly to you. “Do you keep secrets?”
Your body nods before you can think to do it yourself, and you narrow your eyes for a moment at him. He’s…insane looking. Unnaturally flawless. Like those little speckles of moles on his face were placed with perfected intention.
You’re mesmerized as he looks at you, eyes glancing to each part of your face, watching your expression change and fall, then rise and– he chuckles fondly, deeply.
“I believe you.”
Why do you feel proud of that?
“Come back with me, yes?”
There’s a long pause as you fight to think for yourself. If Jungwon were here with you right now, surely you’d be more grounded than you feel right now. Surely, you’d be having a heated conversation involving some sort of shared fantasy over that bartender.
What was his name again?
J…J-
Your eyes adjust to the face in front of you as you lose your train of thought. Something inside of you pulls. You can’t tell if it’s your heart or your thoughts but it appears to be instinctual when you replay his invitation in your head. On any other night, with any other man, you’d say no.
Under these circumstances alone, you should be running away.
This man. Dressed as a holy priest, walking to and fro from what you assume to be his home within that unnatural cathedral, presenting himself as god.
You should stand up and disappear into a crowd of rowdy dancers.
You should find Jungwon and cling to him.
You should push him away, and you should be recoiling by his cold hand that brushes your cheek. His voice shouldn’t feel so good in your ears. Like a siren, something inside of you doesn’t want you to run.
“Temptation has you by the throat, my dear.” He smiles as his hand brushes your warm cheek again and again. “You seem rather fond of the feeling.”
And now he flashes his teeth to you. Glistening brighter than the moon, he appears all but natural to you at this moment when you spiral internally at how fucking beautiful he is. Surely this guy is just a turbo goth that truly lives the life. Probably gives his heart to satan and only fucks during a full moon.
And oh, wouldn’t you know.
You glance up at the sky again, the moon full and nearly pulsing in the sky like it’s a living being itself. Then your eyes fall back to the priest, his smile still present.
A weirdo. A freak.
But…aren’t you too?
You barely feel yourself stand up and take a step forward under his arm. You follow the scent of him if nothing else. Heavy in your nose, like a hidden treasure cloaked by the darkened fabric draping over his body.
You want to smell it deeper. Maybe if he were to take off those clothes you could–
“By the throat.” He mumbles quietly as he leads you away from the club.
Away from familiarity. Away from Jungwon. Away from the public.
There, straight back to that damned cathedral.
You’re more unnerved this time though, because the moment you step through the doors, you cannot, for the life of you, recall what you were supposed to be doing.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Waking up with a weight on your side, you smile at the feeling of what you assume to be Jungwon next to you. As you lay here, not quite comprehending what happened in the blur of the night before, you start to take note of something. Color.
The light behind your closed eyelids don’t match the yellow-white light of the sun shining through your bedroom window. No, you’re seeing colors.
Blue, red, green–
“Wonnie?” You call out, squinting your eyes open, not quite processing the room before you feel a pit in your stomach. “Wonnie?”
Holy shit.
You thought it was a dream.
You thought coming back to this cathedral was nothing more than a drunken dream. That the weight on your side was more than just a misplaced pillow.
And as you lay here in a room that isn’t yours, and most certainly a different room compared to the one you slept in previously here, you try to think.
Was it not a dream?
The way the priest held you close and inhaled you? The way he put you to bed and left you here in the darkness? The way you– oh.
This feeling in your chest, pulling, pushing, weighing so heavy. Something inside of you wants to see him despite your uncomfortable awakening. No, you need to see him. This feeling, you know now, only becomes more aggressive when he’s near too. Which can only mean he isn’t far outside of this room.
You think hard about him and what you can remember outside of the blur in your head. He’s attractive. His face is otherworldly, with eyes so dark you hate that you can very nearly see yourself floating in them.
The image of his face sits clearly in your hungover brain as you try to think. The feeling of his cold skin against your face, his lips, his…
Red.
Panic washes over you when you jump out of bed, ignoring the head rush and the way you immediately topple over and onto the floor. You need to go home, you need to find Jungwon and make sure he made it somewhere safe last night. You need to find your phone, and your…purse?
Your shoes?
Where the fuck are your things?
You plant your hands against the cold wooden floors, staring straight down as you try to think. Still, nothing comes but blurry images of the club and then solid images of Sunghoon flashing like still photographs behind your eyes.
Are you losing your goddamn mind?
Finally, you take a deep breath and stand on your feet, rushing for the door and expecting it to open easily, just like last time. But no. It’s locked. You’re fucking locked in. Which is– fuck, you can’t think straight. And while you still recognize that you’re not expected at work today, surely Jungown is worried, right?
He’s probably looking for you. Hell, with the way his nerves get to him, you wouldn’t be surprised to know he’s plastered posters all over the city looking for you.
He’s definitely looking for you.
Fortunately though, only a few minutes of pure panic pass when you hear the door unlock and a pale-eyed nun opens the door for you. She instantly sees the fear in your eyes when you take a timid step back.
“Oh, you poor dear–” She coos out, lifting her brows in pity. “Do you not remember?”
You hear her sympathy, feeling your body shiver with relief at her safe and calm voice. Looking up at her, she can already see the question in your eyes. The need for an explanation.
“You did request that I lock the door for you. You were just simply petrified when–”
You gasp at her choice of words, not remembering a single bit of fear from the night before.
“Petrified?” You whisper carefully, wrapping your arms around yourself and nervously looking around the room.
The shrouded woman purses her lips, glancing away from you.
“I do believe Master Sunghoon startled you. He meant no harm, my dear.” She tries to calm your nerves, but the information only stiffens your shoulders more.
“Master?” You question with hesitation. “Do you mean Father? Reverend?”
“Oh.” She purses her lips tighter now, a small smile breaking out at the corners of her lips. “It’s worse than I thought. Please, come with me.”
You shake your head, backing yourself up against the wall.
“It’ll only be a minute,” She waves her hand for you to come. “You’re not in danger, I assure you.”
And as you stand here, knowing that you likely have no choice but to follow her, you hope that her words indicating no danger are truthful. You kind of need them to be, after all.
“Come now, dear.”
Reluctantly, you follow her.
All the way up a too-dark spiral staircase, down two long and dark hallways with vaulted ceilings, and upon rounding a corner, you smell it and you fucking feel a tug in your chest. One that drives you to walk a bit faster, nearly in front of the nun as your feet carry you to where you feel you’re supposed to be.
She chuckles when you reach the large double doors before she does, dipping her head at you before seemingly gliding back down the hallway in silence.
Before you can even knock on the doors, they open with a rush of air hitting you square in your face. It nearly knocks the breath out of you at first, but you inhale deeply the same scent of cinnamon before your breath is actually caught in your throat.
There stands the priest. Or god…or whatever he is.
“Terrified.” He clicks a knowing tongue at you, stepping to the side to invite you into the extravagant room. “Just when I thought I had you too.”
You stand in silence in front of him after stepping inside, that tug in your chest trying to pull you directly against the man. Still, you refrain with furrowed brows as you remain silent.
“And yet, here you stand.” He softens his frustrated voice, leaning comfortably against a wooden desk behind him. “The human brain truly is fascinating.”
“Human brain.” You repeat his words to him in an attempt to process them.
“Yes, of course. Yours in particular.” The priest, in his night clothes of a loosened white shirt and long pants makes his way to a bookcase. You watch his slender fingers pull a ratty old book out before he flip through the pages. “I’ve heard about people like you.”
You pause as you watch him push a pair of gold-trimmed glasses up the bridge of his nose, a memory flooding to the forefront of your mind as you recall last night to your best ability.
Again, red.
“I used to be like you.” He just talks, offering no context but keeping his sharp gaze on you despite having the book open in his hands.
You find yourself nodding as you listen, feeling your hand raise to your heart as you try to ignore the way the priest, Sunghoon, takes a deep inhale.
There’s nothing that follows his inhale. He doesn’t release that breath as he stares at you and instead just…smirks.
“Last night, you believed me to be god.” He smiles wider now. “You stood in that very spot and undressed yourself.” He takes a step closer to you now, tilting his head with his words. “Do you know what you did next?”
A shaky breath leaves your lips and a shiver runs through you again and again as you shake your head at him. Forgetting just for a moment how to speak.
“You got on your knees and you prayed.”
You drink the thick air in the room like a glass of wine, swallowing harshly, struggling to maintain any type of steady heart beat. You feel allured, aroused, mesmerized, embarrassed.
“What–” Inhale. “Did I pray for?”
Exhale.
“Me.”
Inhale.
Within a split second all the memories come crashing through your skull. Rattling images of that very instance where you were on your knees, right here, fucking praying. Your hand instinctively shoots up to your neck, and there, you feel the drainage points. Two small pricks, just like in all of those movies you watched growing up. Sore, swollen, hot to the touch.
Well, goddamn.
There goes your balance. Your eyes start to blur and you feel yourself fall. Only, you don’t. You can’t when you hear him drop the book to the floor and feel his cold body shoot up and against you to hold you up.
He says nothing at first as he looks down at you, and you couldn’t say anything if you wanted to. You look up at him in a daze, trying to focus, trying to think, but all you can process is the way he inhales again, deeply.
“You ran.” He whispers to you, studying your face and the way your body went from limp to almost holding up on its own in a shorter time than he expected. So strong, you are. Such a fighter.
He inhales again, seemingly drowning in the smell of you before rolling his eyes up and closing them just for a moment. Then, he groans before looking back down at you with eyes almost as dazed as yours.
“You didn’t run away, though.” He adds.
Even as he releases his hold on you, he smiles and inches his face closer and closer to yours. Almost as if he’s making an attempt to stare straight through you.
“I wouldn’t have stopped you, love.”
Your body feels weak as you soak in the truth of last night, your lips instinctively wanting to kiss him. No longer do you feel the need to run away, or to find Jungwon. You’re no longer afraid, even.
Words can’t explain how you feel right now.
“Why didn’t you leave?”
You have no answers for him when you hum out as a response. In fact, you’re not sure if you’ve ever had the ability to answer questions in the first place.
All you feel is euphoria as he continues to talk to you, sweetly smiling and lowering his voice to something that drips like thick syrup down the walls of your brain.
“I can trust you’ll be back then?” He hovers his lips over yours, watching you pucker them for him before backing away with another deep inhale of your scent. “Or would you rather I come pick you up from the vomit-covered sidewalk again?”
You find yourself laughing at that, smiling as you blink at him.
God, he’s so charming.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
Sunghoon had shoo’d you away shortly after, and you managed to make it home in a daze of sunlight and uncanny admiration.
You’re not sure if you can ever feel normal again after that. In fact, you’re quite dissociated and disconnected to the world until you find Jungwon slumped at the entrance of your apartment, sound asleep.
Like a guiding light, his presence grounds you so fast that you feel more dizzy than you did in Sunghoon’s arms. Like your spirit is slammed back into your body and reality is hitting you again. You crouch down in a rush with light taps to Jungwon’s face, those bright eyes widening the moment he realizes that you’re here.
“Where were you?” He whispered drowsily, his dry throat forcing his voice to crack as he shifts his body comfortably against your door.
Immediately, your face is apologetic and your voice is soothing in repeated apologies.
“I’m sorry, Wonnie–” You hiccup, nearly wanting to cry. “I ended up going home with someone, I didn’t mean to leave you there alone.” You continue, pushing your hands under his arms and hoisting him up to stand. “I’m sorry.” You continue, and continue. “I should have left my keys with you, or–”
“Hey,” He whispers sweetly, finally standing on his own and stretching his arms out with an even drier sound. “It’s okay, you’re the one who missed out.”
You tilt your head in question as you reach for your shoulder bag, the one Sunghoon had tucked within his desk drawer, and pull out your keys.
“Oh?” You smile at his lack of care, but part of you kind of shatters at it.
What if you really needed help? How long would it have taken Jungwon to see the red flags? Then again, how long is it going to take for you to see the red flags?
“Oh yeah.” He nods to you, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes as you push open your door and push him inside. “Jay brought me here, he stayed for a little while, even offered to bring me back to his place.”
You’re a little jealous. You did miss out, it seems. Still, you feel…fond of what you went through last night. Despite the feeling of rot within you when you think about it. Knowing it’s weird. Strange. Unnatural.
A vampire? Really? Surely not.
“Why didn’t you go home with him?” You ask, making your way to your room right behind Jungwon, paying no mind to him as you undress and throw on a t-shirt. “Why’d you sleep at my door?”
Jungwon shrugs, now taking his own outfit off while rummaging through your closet for a shirt you probably got from an ex boyfriend.
“Well,” He looks at you now, really looks at you. “I’m fine if you wanna go home with people but I was a little worried, wanted to make sure you’d actually make it home.��
You pause as you dress yourself for a second sleep, feeling something in your chest flutter out of you at his worry. So he did see the color red.
Not as brightly as you did, but he still saw it.
“I really am sorry.” You furrow your brows as you watch him put that over-sized shirt on and lay on your bed. “I promise, I won’t do that again.”
“You’d better not.” He chuckles, blinking at you and waiting for you to come lay with him.
“Let me go get us some water first, I think we have a lot to sleep off.”
He nods happily to you, only one dimple peeking out at you when you turn to head for the kitchen.
And after that, it’s nice. Not much sleep happened though, mostly just a lot of water chugging and pillow talk before Jungwon shifts with a gasp.
“What the fuck is that?” He bolts up, hovering over you and practically pinning you to the bed as he forces your face to the side.
You know exactly what he’s looking at and explaining it isn’t the hardest thing in the world. After all, you were very drunk last night. So drunk that you’re sure you woke up today still drunk.
A vampire? Hah. There’s no way. You were right to think Sunghoon is just like, really goth. Embarrassingly so. Probably thinks he’s a vampire lord or something.
That pull in your chest? The inhales with no exhales?
It’s all an act and, well, you’re kinda into it if you’re being honest, being hunted and all. The dude is hot as hell, and you don’t mind exploring a little bit of his world.
“Well…” You trail off, lending your looming friend with the smeared eyes an embarrassed smile.
“Those look deep.” His voice drips in concern as he keeps your face turned. “Did it hurt?”
You feel his fingers touching the two puncture wounds. Gentle, warm fingers. They pulse at the touch and sting when he pulls them away to let you turn your face back to him.
“To be honest, I don’t remember feeling it.” You think he’d probably panic if you told the truth right now. About how you were clearly too drunk when it happened. About how you prayed to a man only for him to pierce your neck and drink you up like you did to the drinks just hours prior. You aren’t even sure if you had sex with the guy.
To you though, sober or not, you probably would have still left with Sunghoon last night. With that flawless skin and those dark eyes. Sober or not, if he’s into biting and blood, you’re into it too. More than willing to play his victim.
The fact that you were probably far too drunk at the time doesn’t bother you much because even now, with a grasp on reality, you’d like to think you’d let him do it again. If anything, just to feed your own curiosity.
“Wow, you really are into some freaky stuff–” Jungwon comments playfully, rolling back off of you and then taking a breath. “Make sure you clean them. Who knows where the mouth that did it has been.”
All smiles when you’re with Jungwon, honestly. So much comfort and concern, so much laughing and safety. If it weren’t for him, you honestly wouldn’t know how you’d be feeling right now. And it’s nice knowing that he opts to sleep over with you again. Seemingly preferring your apartment over the home he dropped a hefty wad of cash on for a two month stay.
The feeling of having a best friend swells inside of you with each passing day, and his presence here allows you to go to work and sleep through the night without much more thought to Sunghoon. You love this city and you love the little artist that found himself at your doorstep even more.
Hopefully he meant it when he said he’d come visit you all the time once his time here is over. Unlike you, who changed your mind the moment you saw Jungwon asleep at your door.
“I can trust you’ll be back then? Or would you rather I come pick you up from the vomit-covered sidewalk again?” Sunghoon had said to you. You remember it despite the state of your mind at the time, and you also remember nodding to him.
He seemed satisfied with your confirmation, yet since then you’ve felt no push or pull. No need to have him sucking on your neck or making you feel like he’s a demon wearing the skin of an angel.
Perhaps you’ll just need to be sure you don’t find yourself drunk and alone on the sidewalk again.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
By mid-week, Jungwon looks sad to know he needs to go back to his respective space for a little while. Not because he wants to, and not even because you want him to.
It’s simply because you need to be alone. You’ve always needed to be in your own space when this happens anyway.
Month after month after month. For years and years.
It never gets comfortable and you’ll never understand why you’re fated to hurt so badly every twenty two days.
Going to work is already difficult enough, bloated in your quirky outfits and smiling through the twisting knots in your gut. Having Jungwon in your space when you very nearly want to strangle every person who asks you how your day has been would only lead to more owed apologies.
“It’s not forever, Wonnie.” You genuinely smile through the pain at his narrowed eyes. “Don’t be so dramatic.”
“Oh, I’m being dramatic?” He throws his arms up and motions at you. “You just told me you need a few days to bleed out on your kitchen floor.”
“Well, yeah...” You laugh and he frowns.
“I have a sister, you know.” He rolls his eyes. “Who’s gonna buy you snacks and bring you microwaved water bottles?”
“Jungwon.” You land your hands on his shoulders and force him to look at you. “I really just don’t like when people are around me when I'm on my period.”
He blows a strand of his hair up before pursing his lips, accepting the fact that maybe he’s a bit too clingy. Then again, you’re the only person in this city he knows and arguably the only person in this world he’s managed to grow so close with.
Given the fact that the two of you only met like, what? Two weeks ago? He should probably tone it down and not make an attempt to change your lifestyle just so he can sleep next to someone.
“Fine.” He huffs, frowning harder. “But if you need snacks or–”
“I’ll call you.” You shake his shoulders before forcing him into a bear hug. “Thanks though.”
And with that, you go your separate ways at the end of the work day and try to ignore how the pain medicine did close to nothing all day to help with the twisting in your abdomen.
Still, you’re relieved to know you can tough out the next few days in silence due to Jungwon backing you up on your false-sickness nonsense nearing the end of your shift.
“I feel like I’m coming down with a fever.” You whined to your boss, happy that the first day cold-sweats from your period makes it appear as just that. A fever.
“She’s been a bit out of it all day. If you need me to help out on the down-low while she’s recovering, I don’t mind.” Jungwon had added, smiling at your boss and not at all bothered by the unpaid work he’ll probably have to do for your sake.
A great friend he is. You’re lucky to have met him.
An amazing friend, really. For helping you find space for yourself in crowded clubs and within your own bed. For lending a hand at work and showing up every day for your shifts despite simply being an artist that’s presenting his work there. No where is he needed within that museum outside of, well, you.
And he’s always there. So for him to not be here now, when you’re making your way to your apartment door? It feels...wrong. Mostly because, as alone as you are when you walk inside and as silent as it is, you don’t entirely feel as alone like you once did here.
Still, you go about your nightly routine and fall into bed with those same cramps in your gut. It’s not long before you’re drifting off, pleased to know that at least when you’re sleeping, there’s no pain in your body.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
A strong scent wakes you, forcing your eyes open in the darkness of your room.
Familiar. Warm. Spicy.
Cinnamon.
A tug, just a little pull inside of you brings you to your feet as you wander through your apartment. Straight to the front door. Straight out of the front door.
“You know where I live?” You whisper drowsily, rubbing your eyes and walking straight into his grasp, ignoring the feeling of sticky blood leaking out of you just from getting out of bed alone.
“No.” Sunghoon speaks against your hair, rubbing your arms as he holds you against him.
“Oh.” You accept his answer with a nonchalant feeling inside of you. Who even cares how he ended up here?
“Come back with me?” He whispers, already taking a step back and smiling wickedly when you instantly follow, forcing your nose further against his chest and up to his neck. “I hear it dripping, love, come.”
And you do. All the way downstairs and into a car with heavily tinted windows.
You feel comfortable, safe.
The cramps in your belly are nowhere near as you slowly but surely come to your senses. Half-awake but feeling buzzed next to him. Still, you smile while keeping your nose planted up and against his neck even as he drives.
You like the sound of his little laughs each time he tries to push you back to your seat, and you like even more the way he mutters to himself through it when he relents and lets you do as you please. The short drive in the dead of night doesn’t offer much in terms of danger anyway.
And slowly still, your mind clears. Breaking out of the buzzed fog when he brings you through the cathedral
silently. Past the pale-eyed nuns with pursed smiling lips, past the windows and hallways.
No longer are you buzzed by the time you make it through those heavy doors of the extravagant room. The same one you prayed in. The same one you nearly fainted in. The same one you tried to forget.
“How do you feel?” He asks just moments after the doors close.
You can sense the slightest bit of hesitation in his voice when he asks you that, only now realizing that you’re in your pajamas and fucking staining them.
“What do you mean?” You ask, squeezing your legs together in an uncomfortable show of what’s happening between them.
“Are you awake?” He asks now, still slightly hesitant in front of you. You can almost see him hold himself back.
From something.
“As far as I know.” You tilt your head, glancing around the room. “Um, can I go to the bathro–”
“Can you read that clock?” He interrupts you and points to the candle-lit wall.
“Three thirty–” You pause, squinting to make sense of the exact minute. “three.”
He smiles at the fact that you’re entirely awake with him this time, despite the drowsy lure he had you in when he appeared at your door.
You’re here of your own free will, and you’re not running.
“Do you want to go home?”
You’re confused by the questions. As confused and drunk as you felt upon stumbling out your apartment door, you very much came here willingly. If anything, you’re just a little weirded out by the fact that you were paying such close attention to him that you missed the way blood seeped through your clothes.
“No?” You offer back to him before taking a deep breath. “Can you show me where the bathroom is though?”
And before you can even comprehend it, Sunghoon is right up against you. Looming and staring down as his hands rest on your shoulders before sliding down to your waist.
“Now, now.” He chuckles, lowering his face just an inch, resting his lips on your forehead. “Why would I want to do that?”
“Because I’m gross right now?” You laugh awkwardly, trying to take a step back but realizing that his grip on you tightens.
“Oh, have you forgotten?” He laughs out, lowering himself more, dragging his lips all the way down your face, neck, chest.
“Ah, wait–” You panic when you feel his nose against your stomach, threatening to go lower. “I’m like…” You’re embarrassed to say it now.
After all, you came here with the clear indication of fucking. Period or not, you’re not afraid of a little bit of blood but…this.
“Sunghoon, I’m on my period.” You finally speak into the room, trying to push his face from your stomach.
“I know.” He smiles, pressing his nose harder against your stomach. “Drove me crazy all day.” He dips his face down instantly, inhaling deeply between your legs.
Something inside of you is insanely turned on by his blatant interest in you.
“All day?” You ask, hands reaching for his hair as he drags his nose straight through the mess you’ve made.
“Could smell it, darling.” He laughs, pulling back and looking up at you. “Smells so sweet, not gross. Delicious.”
Why the fuck is the blood smeared against the tip of his nose so alluring? Jungwon was right, you really are into some freaky shit. Then again, it’s not so weird considering you’ve never done this before. Everyone’s gotta start somewhere when it comes to kinks, right?
“Can smell something else too.” He looks back between your legs, ignoring that you are trying to act like you don’t want to let him. “You’re aroused.”
Oh.
And just as you’re preparing for some sort of pressure between your thighs, you feel a waft of cold air rush up your body when he stands and grabs your face with both hands.
“You never came back.” He hisses against your lips, dragging you back and further into the room with him. “I had to sniff you out like a fucking dog.”
Your mouth falls open at the spiteful shift in his voice, following his movements all the way into the room until he’s spinning around and pushing you from his hold. You fall back against something insanely soft, and instantly you moan at the feeling of silk against you.
Barely able to catch your breath, he’s over you. He’s on you. Tucking his face into the crook of your neck with a low rumbled growl in his throat and inhaling over and over again.
Inhale. Inhale. Inhale.
And you can feel him nose his way all the way up to your face, opening his eyes and staring straight through you with slack lips just over yours.
You’re mesmerized by him at this moment. Never has a man acted this way with you and it’s insane to think you’d ever be satisfied with someone who wouldn’t. You almost strain your neck to kiss him, and you truly would have if it weren’t for the fact that you feel him sink his hand into your shorts.
Not even a second to truly comprehend how ice-cold his fingers feel when he slips them down and slides two of them into you. He watches your face when he does it, his own slack lips turning to a smile when you moan out at the smallest of pleasure he wants to offer you.
“Oh, look at you,” He coos, feeling your arms shoot around his shoulders when he continues to slide the digits in and out of you. “So sticky, what a pretty little mess.”
You groan in embarrassment at the act, knowing full well that you’ll have to face the fact that you like it at some point after he’s finished with you. You don’t mind admitting it so much now though. The way his fingers slide through the thick mess, forcing the scent of brass to mix with his own cinnamon aroma? To die for, truly.
“I could just eat you up–” He chokes in a whisper this time, struggling to maintain his composure from the sickening sweet smell of your blood. “Would you like that?”
You lift up instantly, kissing against his slackened smile. It’s one sided, as he simply lets you do it and nothing more. Mostly because he, himself, is spiraling into a frenzy of what he needs more than what you want. It’s all pleasure the same though, as he feels your tongue trace against one of his sharpened teeth.
Just a small bite. Just a taste.
“Ah–” You pull back in a wince, the flavor of blood hitting the back of your taste buds as you look up at him with confusion.
He doesn’t allow much looking though, as you hear that same rumble from his throat right up against your lips. You feel his tongue lick you up, slurping the blood straight from your new wound and moaning through the flavor of it.
His eyes flutter closed as he tries to hold down his thirst, knowing that his fingers are fucking dripping with this same sweet, red slick. It wouldn’t take much now for him to break and let it all drip down his throat. He could end this now if he’s not careful.
And when he opens his eyes again as he pulls back from your sweet tongue, he notes the look of confusion still on your face. His eyes roll in fond annoyance at you for that, only because you have this stubborn need to question despite having the clear answer bleeding from your mouth.
“You’re still trying to pretend you don’t realize?” He asks, whispering real close to your lips, darting his tongue out and offering a small kitten lick as he buries his fingers deep.
Your lips open for him in a moan and he licks into it again. Your still bleeding tongue only drives him further and further from a stable mindset. No one, not in hundreds of years, has tasted this fucking sweet. He almost can’t savor it with the way his body rises from slumber at the mere fucking scent of you from ten blocks away.
His cock pulses for the first time in decades for you. God, he feels more alive than he did when he was actually cycling blood through his veins.
“You just sliced open that pretty tongue on my teeth.” He chuckles, basking in the warmth he can only feel with you beneath him. “My fangs, love.” His fingers continue their slide all the while, the sounds of squelching blood filling his ears more than your soft groans for more. “Still, you seem to deny what this is and what I am.”
You can hear his words, but comprehending them isn't quite as easy. Like, yes, he’s got a vampire kink. Whatever.
“I get it, you’re kinky.” You huff out, missing the way he stifles a laugh at your denial of the truth.
“You’re a stubborn one–” He smiles, flashing the same fang that sliced through your tongue. “It’s a bit frustrating. Perhaps even endearing.”
And then, suddenly, his fingers come to a halt and he waits for you to look at him. Just as you go to speak, he’s sliding his fingers out of your mess so quickly, shushing you with his red stained digits.
“Now, listen.”
It’s silent. More silent than you ever thought the world could be.
“Do you hear it?”
You shake your head, feeling his fingers leave a trail of your blood against your lips as he drags them away and up to his own mouth.
There, he hangs his fingers from his mouth, licking gently and tasting thoughtfully before sliding them further in. He sucks them clean in an erotic show of his blood-lust before letting them fall from his still licking tongue. Then, he’s slotting them right back between your legs, wanting more to taste.
“No? You don’t hear how loud it is?” He asks now in a lower tone, still thirsty, still in need, dipping down to lick the blood from your face. “All that blood in you, bundled up right–” His fingers press hard against your clit. “Here.”
Your body jolts in pleasure, eyes rolling back at the mere sensitivity he forces your body into. God, kinky is right. He knows how to use words. His voice is so elegant while spewing the filth, so proper.
“Ahh, that feels good, doesn’t it?” He questions you in a moan that mimicked your own, now lowering himself from your face and kissing down your clothed chest. Down, down, down. “Do you think you’ll believe me when you feel the blood drain out of you?” His voice echoes in your ears, reminding you of the vampire-like thirst he’s trying to act upon.
And when he slips your shorts down your legs, you don’t even protest. Which at this point isn’t weird at all. The dude is insanely into it and you can’t help but feel like you can vibe with it if he keeps acting like this. He’s good at roleplaying.
Instead of an embarrassed protest, you respond to him by spreading your legs and presenting the red mess he’s smeared all over you. Inviting him.
He glances up at you as he watches, saying nothing, thinking nothing except for the fact that– you are perfect.
In every way, spread out and dripping blood, perfect.
You feel an intense jolt of pain shoot through your body just seconds later, followed by a loud and almost animalistic moan from the man between your legs. You lift slightly as you try to look down at him, witnessing the way he sucks the flesh of your thigh into his mouth, blood weeping from the new wounds his teeth create.
So much blood. He’s the one drunk now, utterly fucking mesmerized by the amount of it you pour for him. Your fleshy thighs offer the freshest, he couldn’t help but take a sip before giving you what your quivering body is truly begging for. He has to quench the genuine thirst before playing with his food, at least.
And as you watch him it’s like you’re nothing but a piece of meat at this moment. He’s sucking and sucking against your thigh until you’re sure your toes are numb. They’re tingling, and you can physically feel the blood being pulled from you. As if his teeth are two syringes seeping it out of you.
Af if they are. Not because they actually are, right?
And by the time your toes are effectively filled with static, he finally releases the fleshy bite on your thigh. You stare down, listening to him smack his lips and lick the corners of his mouth, seeing the way he doesn’t make eye contact with you at all before he’s turning his attention and burying his tongue into your crimson coated cunt. Without warning, but with so much eagerness with his tasting lips.
Your eyes flutter with a loud and strained gasp, eliciting a groan of his own to bubble into the blood that falls against his tongue with each passing pulse of you. He licks in time with your heartbeat, which is fucking insane that you can tell he does it. Never before now have you heard your heart beat so loudly, so frantically in your ears.
And you would be embarrassed, perhaps even worried that the taste is awful. Maybe it’s too much for him, maybe this kink is all just for show and this is a limit he’s only willing to try once before realizing himself that he doesn’t necessarily like drinking the blood from a woman’s pussy…except– Sunghoon gives you no reason to feel like any of that is true.
No, no. Oh no. He’s fucking relishing in it and you can tell by the way he moans and skews his head to dig his tongue deeper. You can tell by the way he smothers himself, not coming up for air for even a second of the time he’s spending down there.
And god, you can feel the mess of it all. Sticky, smearing all over your thighs when his fingers trace you mindlessly before gripping your thighs just to pull you down the bed, closer against his face, sliding his tongue ever deeper.
Moaning, fucking slurping it out of you without so much as a breath.
He’s not breathing.
And now? You panic, focusing more on the time he’s spending burying his mouth and nose into you than the feeling of it. Your hand shoots down into his hair, pulling his head back and away from you.
Then your breath is caught in your throat at the sharp image. His eyes blown out, widened at you. Nose, cheeks, chin, tongue all glistening with sticky crimson slick, and a smile.
He smiles at you.
At least before his tongue is clicking and he’s poking it into the side of his cheek before reaching back, grabbing your hand, and shoving it out of his hair before sinking his face right back between your legs. As if to show you that he was annoyed by that.
You don’t get to think about it though, because this time he’s licking you more frantically than he already was. Fast tongue flicking and fucking you, his teeth dragging against your pussy lips, refusing to let you believe that he wants to breathe fresh air right now.
Your hands find purchase in his hair yet again though, and you feel him grip your legs and stiffen his shoulders to keep his head in place just in case you try to pull him from you again. You hear the deep growl. You feel it rumble against you as if to warn you to keep your hands to yourself if you’re not going to let him do exactly what he said he would fucking do.
So, you don’t pull him away. Instead, you play in his hair with your weak hands. Twisting and twirling strands of it between your fingers until he’s pulling his tongue back on his own.
A shock to you, truly, that he does it at all. But you guess it makes sense when you feel another sharp pain in your thigh, right below the preview bite he had given you.
Just when you were gaining feeling back in your toes too.
And he goes back and forth like that for a while, until his face is utterly soaked in diluted blood and pussy-slick. Until he needs to look at it pulse, and watch how beautiful you still, fucking still, have more to pour out for him.
He’s amazed, really. Never has he served himself a woman that’s openly bleeding for him like this. After all, he prefers to drink his dinner from the carotid artery and be done with it. He was far more creative back in the day though, you know, when his cock still worked.
Most of his sexual pleasure came from drinking alone. Never getting hard but always reaching climax in one way or another when he gets that last, delicious drop of blood from his victims. But now? Oh, now. You’ve stirred his arousal back to life. Not from pure hunger, but lust.
It’s been so long that he’s lusted. So, so fucking long since he’s cared enough to fuck his prey or give in to the temptation of menstrual blood. In fact, he can’t even recall ever allowing his victims to fall away from the drowsy lure he puts them in. Many of them didn’t know what was happening to them before death and he preferred it that way.
Until you. An average looking commoner with insane fucking blood. Devilish blood. Divine, demonic, angelic, fucking celestial tasting blood.
After all this time, he’s had beautiful face after beautiful face. He’s had men, women, celebrities, false-prophets, and even purely divine bodies.. But you…oh no, he can’t simply kill you like those utter throw-aways.
There was a reason he didn’t end you the first night. Something in him caught fire on the taste of your drunken blood. The alcohol you had ran through his veins along with a taste he’s never once fathomed existing. It was the first time in hundreds of years where he forced himself to let you walk out of his quarters.
Blood with no comparison. So thick, so sweet, so…damning. How could he have just killed you there? How could he pretend like it’s not addicting? Like he didn’t want you to continue producing more and more of it, all for him to drink up?
Of course he wants all of it. He wants to drain you to your last fucking drop, but then he’d never taste it again. Not in thousands of years, at least. So now, as his cock pulses awake and your heavy flow only produces more and more for his hungry mouth to lick up– fuck.
It’s been so long since he’s felt something for a victim like this, and even longer since he’s wanted to use his cock. No, needing to use it. It feels almost foreign to him now after so many centuries, to fuck and eat at the same time. To indulge in all the pleasure, and not just the one that keeps him alive. To want you to feel the pleasure too, to need you to want him without the false sleep forcing it.
You.
You’re the one. You’re the one he’s going to keep. For as long as you’ll let him, and when you stop letting him, he’ll have no choice but to lure you again. Forever. All for him.
“Love,” He rasps out, staring at the way your pussy shines so prettily in front of him, the pulse drawing him to near starvation despite being drenched in his meal. “Never have I wanted to fuck before I–”
Kill, is the word he almost used. It’s instinctual, but instead he releases a moan from his throat at the mere thought ignoring that instinct. Drinking, sipping. Forever just a fucking appetizer and never the full meal. He can settle. He will settle.
Never. Truly never has he wanted to stop himself from drinking just to fuck and he needs you to know that. The feeling is too erotic for even him to comprehend right now, meshing with his hunger and making him feel –-
Gods be damned, he could kill you.
He should kill you. Given the fact that he has never let a meal leave this room without being drained entirely. Never while they’re awake and fully aware anyway. Insanity. You’ve made him go insane, losing his wits enough to treat you as something more than a victim.
Despite hunting you as one. Despite never having to hunt anyone like he has you. Wanting you to be here willingly. Wanting you to love the feeling of his thirst. Wanting you to learn how good the drain feels. Wanting you to know what he is and needing you to love it.
Needing you to stay alive.
Insane.
He’s fucking losing it.
He knows that if he can never smell this scent again, if he can never taste it, or have your fingers in his hair, if he can never want to fuck again? Oh, he’d crumble.
He’d take a walk at noon.
You’re not dying tonight. In fact, never shall you feel the cold slab of a morgue freezer if he has anything to do with it. No blood wasted when it comes time for you, and no life truly lost either.
If just for the sex. If just to quench a never ending thirst.
If just to live in insanity.
“Before you–” You release in a breath that he chases. As if craving the life under him like an animal. “Before you, what?”
“Kill.” He whispers as he swallows each breath of yours, tasting the sweet sleep that you once held in your body. His own eyes feeling drowsy as if you have your own lure on him now.
Even the panicked gasp you release at his choice of word there, he swallows it, kissing you hard in a drowsy groan and smearing the blood all through the kiss, letting your breath rumble out of his mouth as if the moan were from his own lungs.
“So vacuous.” He chuckles now, feeling the pleasure of his cock jolt through his body. He presses himself between your legs, relishing in the sticky blood seeping straight through his sleep pants. “Do you feel that?” He continues, rutting against you as if he’s a virgin of all that he’s experiencing right now, licking each smear of blood from your cheeks and chin.
“Ah, Sunghoon,” You groan, but you try to be serious in your tone. Feeling the orgasm that once was bubbling up settle back in your stomach. “You’re making a mess.”
“Mm, I am.” He mutters mindlessly, pressing harder against you now as the taste settles in his throat. “Love, tell me. You feel it?”
Of course you fucking feel it.
The nod you lend pleases him, knowing that it’s not just his imagination. Finally, he can feel the warmth of a living being wrapped around him. Finally, he doesn’t feel so cold.
“You can’t fathom what it is that you do to me,” He continues his sweet talk, running his lips down to your neck, leaving trails of that blood all the way before immediately piercing his teeth into the same wounds he left on you already. He feels your pulse against his teeth when he sucks and only groans weaker against you as he ruts.
“Ah–” You wince in pain again, feeling the wound reopen with a cold and sharp prick. The pain ignites something inside of you to press your hips up, sliding yourself against his red-drenched pants.
He chuckles into his bite at your willingness, his hands reaching straight down to shove his pants down in one movement. Euphoria runs through him at the feeling of your warm blood against him when he presses back against you.
Really, the feeling alone paired with the taste of your fresh blood yet again only drives him to keep going. After all, he has all the time in the world. His intention to keep you here only lends him the ability to press his length straight into that bloody, sopping wet hole of yours. The one pulsing for him, the one that lends his favorite smell, taste, and feeling in the world.
His teeth are forced to retract when he throws his head back at the sensation of sinking deep into your cunt, one fluid motion reminding him of how much he loved this feeling before. How often he’d fuck, and fuck, and fuck until suddenly, he just– couldnt.
You’ve ignited so much life within him, even while doing nothing more than lying here bleeding. No longer does he feel bored with the world considering he’s managed to find you in it. He could possibly even love you if you let him.
Especially with the way you react nearly the same as he does. As if you haven’t fucked before. As if you’ve never mixed scents with another being before ever coming to this city to chase your own demise. The little sounds you make could be so much more than what you think they are.
They’re so similar to the ones you make when he bites, when he sucks, oh, so so similar. So deeply seeped in pleasure, pain, hesitation.
“Darling, are you afraid?” Sunghoon manages to say as he feels himself warm from inside of your tense body. “Do you believe me now? Do you understand now?”
You frantically shake your head at the tear of his cock spreading your walls open around it. That one slide rendering you near faint considering the amount of blood he’s taken from you already. The feeling of…ice. It’s in you, running from your veins all throughout your body. So, so, fucking cold.
No, no, no. No living being on this earth could feel this hard inside of you while being this…oh. His hands have been cold on you too. Always. His scalp under your fingernails as you scratched. His lips, his tongue, all of it was freezing until your blood was coating him. Everything about him is ice.
Still, you shake your head through the pleasure, cock warming him both literally and unintentionally. He just sits inside of you, feeling the beat of your heart gush that same blood past his length and out of you. Your eyes slightly open to look at him, afraid of what you’ll see.
He’s smiling. His eyes are…brighter.
“C–cold.” You manage to stutter out, nearly feeling brain freeze from the way he pulls his hips back and plunges into you again, warm blood splashing out and against his pelvis, coating your thighs more. And oh, that bite on your thigh, it’s dripping again.
“So cold, yes?” He chuckles when he dips down, moving his hips steadily in and out of your sticky mess. No longer thirsty, just…aroused. “Do you understand?”
You frantically shake your head again, grabbing onto him from over his shirt. You’re panicking inside, your fingers gripping so tight, trying to find heat. Needing heat.
How did you not think about this more? It took this to recognize that he never warms? And he’s smiling at your panic?
God, but it feels so, so fucking good.
“Love,” He coos at your panic, pistoning his hips easily with the slide, bringing both of his hands to your face and forcing you to look at him. “I’m dead.”
Ah.
So he is.
Yet, the feeling of him inside of you feels better than you’ve ever had. The way his hands hold your face, the way his eyes blow out for you, the way his entire face is tinted in red. He’s so alive yet…
Entirely dead.
“You’re afraid?” He asks through his own forgotten pleasure, wanting you to stay but entirely willing to put you to sleep so this doesn’t have to end.
“Sunghoon,” You interrupt any words he’s about to give you, opting to continue fighting the truth when you note the softer tone of voice he uses despite the quickening pace of his hips. “Harder.”
Oh, the fire within burns colder than it ever has at those words. He doesn't even need to pull you? You don’t want to pretend this isn’t happening? You’re accepting him?
If you want him to go harder, he’ll make you feel like no other. Harder he goes, using all of his pent up frustration of not being able to drain you fucking dead, all of his strength, all of everything he’s missed out for the past centuries– all of it. It’s behind his thrusts now as he slams into you. The blood that splatters out only makes the moment all the more grand to him.
Breaths leave you with each slam, the sticky sound from below being drowned out by the sheer sound your heart rate in your ear. You’re still panicking, but you can’t help but want more. After all, surely what’s left for you after he’s done is….no, it’s not real.
He feels the fear pulse around his cock and moans out at it, the squeeze so tight, the gush so delicious. This entire room smells of you, and he wants it to be fucking drenched in you. The fear inside of you right now only intensifies the pleasure, and he knows he should be calming you through it, he knows he should tell you that you’re making out of this alive, but–
The way the heart beats so frantically when one is terrified. You’re dripping with fear, the smell of your blood intensifies with each petrifying pulse squeezing his cock to the point he feels his own heart make an attempt to pulse. Your life runs through him entirely out of fear that you’ll lose it.
He can’t tell you, not when your body reacts so flawlessly. Exactly how it’s supposed to react. So delicious is that fear, he wonders if it makes your blood taste any hotter. He dips down, sinking his teeth into your neck once again and confirms his suspicions. It does taste hotter, sweeter, and it pumps itself so beautifully against his eager fangs. Almost as if you truly bleed for him, because he’s not even needing to suck for it at this point.
It just drips, and pours, and bubbles out all for him to swallow up.
You push through it though, the pain is so good, and if this is what it’s like to die, perhaps you’ve found yourself in a lucky position. At least you’re not being ripped to pieces by a stranger, or crushed beneath your own car on a highway. At least this way, you’re being held and seemingly adored.
And the fear, excitement, and pure adrenaline in your body forces it out of you. A rush of heat slamming Sunghoon right in his gut when you convulse under him. Legs shaking as you moan out both in disbelief and intense ecstasy. The blood tastes even sweeter now for him, so sweet that he has to pull back in a guttural and demonic growl.
It’s been so, so long since he’s felt a woman cum around him. His own body reacts in an instant, releasing his own thick secretion into you as you shake through it. Sweating, panting, drooling, crying, bleeding. All for him.
And the explosion behind his eyes is a reminder to keep you alive. He forces himself to keep the inhale from happening as he plunges into you one last time, coating the inside of your bloody walls with a flurry of freezing ropes. Amazed at the feeling he has long forgotten, his body shakes through it and renders him near psychotic for the release.
You continue to shake with him, shivering at how the man makes you feel as if you’ve been lying in snow for days, but you keep your eyes closed.
You’re terrified of him, of this, of the truth hitting you square between the eyes as if it wasn’t obvious all along. Fantasies, legends, fairy tales. How many of them are based in reality?
You know what’s coming now, based on those same stories.
The last bite, the drain, fuzzy images, death.
And you embrace for it, trying to relish in the post-orgasm bliss before it happens because you know there’s no way to run from him. If he’s truly what he says he is, there’s no chance in this world that you can stop him. You’re going to die, and the strange way in which your brain accepts the inevitable is more calming than petrifying.
You never knew you’d be able to prepare for it like this, but here you are. Waiting for it. Accepting it. And when you feel the air of his body shift down to you, right up against your neck, you squeeze your eyes shut and hold your breath.
His cold hand tilts your face and all you can do is anticipate as you feel his teeth graze the abused and swollen marks there.
Here it is.
You inhale deeply, hoping that if there’s an afterlife, this last breath will be a good memory for you until–
A kiss.
He kisses the wounds. He licks them. He nuzzles his cold nose against them, and then he pulls out of you and lays directly on top of you.
It’s silent as you lay here, still trying to prepare to fucking die and he’s just prolonging it?
“Get it over with.” You gripe, frustration dripping out in your weak voice.
It’s laughable, really, that you’ll sound so argumentative and petty over the loss of your life. So laughable that even he’s chuckling about it, right against your ear with no breath fanning against your skin.
“Get what over with, darling?” He asks, not having felt this drowsy drained state in so long.
Your mind is racing though, seemingly trying to think of everything that has ever happened in your life onto everything you wish still could happen, only to consistently land on the fact that you don’t want to believe what’s happening.
You know very well the denial you’re forcing yourself into, even in the face of demise, you don’t want to believe any of this.
“I still can’t believe that you’re— No,” You dead-pan before taking in a terrified breath, still keeping your eyes closed. “They’re not real.”
“I’m very, very real.” Sunghoon argues back, infatuated with the denial you try to keep. “You know that I am.”
“So, you have to kill me then?” Your voice gets smaller as you accept the truth little by little, your breath shakier. “Fucking get it over with then, stop trying to savor it, it’s not like I can run now, right?”
You still like the way he laughs, so breathy despite having no breath of his own. And through that laugh, he lends another kiss before you feel all of that weight lift from you and dip onto the bed next to you instead.
“Don’t beg for it.” Sunghoon warns, pulling away from you and forcing his instinct to remember the release of the orgasm he just had. “I won’t be able to stop myself if you ask me so prettily.”
You pause, your eyes opening against your will as you look at him. He’s facing away from you, but you can see the damp blood drying in the strands of his hair. Your eyes trail down, a puddle of blood staining nearly the entire lower half of the bed and it’s still dripping out of you.
Or perhaps, that’s whatever it is he fucking shoved into you and fucked out of himself.
“None of this is happening.” You say to yourself. “I did not just fuck a vampire.”
“You’re right.” He comments with another laugh. “A vampire just fucked you.”
Well. You’re still not ready to believe that. Even with the absence of heat, even with the lack of breathing.
“Prove it.” You ask, unsure as to why you’re wanting it both to be real and just a dream.
You back away when he immediately does as he’s asked. Turning to you and crawling over you. There, he lowers his body, chest to your cheek.
“Listen.” He says, reaching to hold your face and press it up and against his chest. “Anything?”
You wait, listening for a thump, anything to prove he’s wrong. Fucking any sound at all to blow his cover.
You’re frozen as you listen, your body going into fight or flight as the seconds turn to minutes. Unfortunately, your body is not a fighter, nor a flier. You’re stuck with his hand on your cheek, holding you so tightly against something you wish was alive.
A little thump, thump, thump could be the most relieving sound to you, but no. There’s nothing.
You pull away from him now, body still frozen but head running a mile a minute. How many proofs does he need to provide for you to understand that it’s not fantasy?
And finally, you feel your body jerk away from him on its own. He’s startled by the movement and you use that short second to roll off of the bed. You do your best to stand, but your brain immediately pulses in pain. Your vision goes fuzzy, dizzy.
Right, you’ve lost a lot of blood tonight. To think your toes aren’t still numb, to think you’d be able to stand without dropping to the ground.
“Thousands of years.” Sunghoon stands quickly, stalking over you and wrapping his arms around you. There, he presses you back on the bed and straddles your hips. “I’ve never told another soul and let them live to remember it– until you.”
You shake under him, the weight feeling more dead now than it ever has. He’s heavy as he holds you down, but somehow his grip on you is gentle. His voice is soft. His eyes are hesitant. He’s not holding you here to hurt you, it seems.
“My love, I told you time and time again,” He glances away from you, feeling something within him shrivel at the thought that now you’re unwilling. “Is it different now? To find that I’ve told no lies to you?”
Still, he soothes you as you try to comprehend reality. You think hard through the dizzy fog of blood-loss, running more with your mind than your body. He did tell you. And you’re still alive. He just drank and drank from you, and you’re still alive.
He came to your apartment, he told you he smelled you.
He’s never lied.
You just refused to listen.
He drank you, he fucked you, he held you, and now he’s holding you.
“I don’t want you to fear me.” Sunghoon admits with sad eyes, trying to ignore how long it’s been since he’s felt sad at all.
So many emotions you force him to feel, this was not one he was looking forward to.
“How can I not be afraid?” You breathe out in slurred speech, as if to mock him, because you now know that he truly can’t do it himself.
“It’s too late to be afraid.” He says apologetically. “You’d have died weeks ago had I wanted it.”
Why are you still falling in love with his voice? With his stupid grammar, and his horrifying dead-skin? Even with the fear in your stomach, why does this make your heart flutter?
“I’ve never felt so full,” He admits now, releasing his grip on you slowly. He can smell your heart slow, knowing you’re starting to calm now. “Until now.”
You stare up at him as your eyes recover back to clear vision, in awe of how gentle a killer is being with you. Inspecting the way he’s drenched in your blood, yet you truly still are breathing. He could have killed you time and time again.
But he didn’t.
He’s never once lied to you about what he is, and still you struggle to believe what he says. Even when his words match his actions. Sure, he’s a vampire, but he’s not going to kill you?
What reason do you have to believe him save for the blatant truth behind it? Do you want to believe him? Would you rather be dead?
He knows you can’t fathom the truth so quickly though, and that’s why he’s being gentle. He has nothing more than patience to give to you, if it’ll end in your acceptance anyway. The fact that he can hear your heart beating correctly again only gives him hope that he’s right about not having killed you on the first night.
After all, he truly hasn’t lied to you. Never has he felt full, even after killing several a night. Always hungry, always thirsty, always needing more and more of the syrupy life strangers offer to him under his lure. But you. Entirely aware, flowing with blood that drives him crazy…you’ve managed to fill that desire in him.
Why should he lie to you? Why would he kill you if there is no need? Despite fighting the instinct, he’s satiated by you. His cold body warms with yours. He will never get enough of you, so how on earth could he just…take that away from himself?
And you do stop fighting. In fact, you lay with him in a bloodied mess and sleep. Despite wanting to ask questions, wondering if he can even sleep at all. Your body is tired, your mind is still petrified, and your hands still cling to the source of it, unsure if you’ll make it to morning at all.
Still, somehow, this feels holy.
・・・・・・・・・・・・・・
PART TWO
Fanart by @a-the-na 🖤🖤🖤🖤
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Writing Pregnancy
Hello darlings. I've been thinking about writing this for a while, and it seems useful to a lot of people who are planning to Baby or who have characters who are planning to, or currently are, Babying.
It's not exactly a story, but y'all seem to like these essays from time to time, so I hope this one is interesting too.
So here it is. A guide to being pregnant as written by someone who has recently done it, for writers who have not or will not do it themselves.
This post will be broken down by weeks, because that’s how medical people do it, and also because some of this stuff really doesn’t happen by month.
DISCLAIMER: Every pregnancy is different. Your mileage may differ, maybe a lot. This is based on my pregnancy and is written as a handy reference for people who haven't done this themselves.
An important note, doctors count pregnancy as having begun AT THE DATE OF THE FIRST DAY OF YOUR LAST PERIOD unless there are extenuating circumstances such as an extremely unreliable, or nonexistent period. If this is the case, they will judge it based on your first ultrasound (8 weeks or so) or by when morning sickness kicks in (6-10 weeks) depending on the tech level your character is facing.
Be aware, this guide will be fairly explicit and will talk about the squishy bits, since they’re pretty involved in this whole business. If you keep reading and discover the horrible truth, that pregnancy is profoundly icky in many ways, I warned you.
Anyway, on to the fun part!
FAQ:
I am in my early-mid 30s (early when newly pregnant, older now obviously) when I was pregnant. I am in sound, but not neurotypical, mental health, and good physical health. I do not have major allergies or food issues other than caffeine which I am allergic to. (This is also relevant. More on this later.) I have some notable back problems which will be noted here because they’re relevant too. This pregnancy was planned and I have a wonderful and extremely supportive spouse (husband) who is the baby’s biological father. I also work a lot, but from home, which very much altered my experience
Week One: FIRST TRIMESTER
Technically speaking, right now, you’re probably menstruating and not actually pregnant at all. This will feel like a normal period, because that’s what it is. You’re not pregnant yet. Business as usual. If you were planning to get pregnant, you’re already on prenatal vitamins.
Week Two:
Congrats! You got laid! You still feel normal because implantation hasn’t happened yet. You’re still not technically pregnant. Just horny. Get it while it’s hot. If this pregnancy was an accident, or you’re trying to get pregnant, you’re not eagerly awaiting the point where you can test to know for sure.
Week Three:
Okay this is where you might see your first symptoms if your cycle is very regular, like mine is, and you’re watching your body closely for “that’s new” stuff. In my case, my boobs started swelling like they do when I’m on my period, except I was two weeks out from my period. Cue “huh, I might be pregnant” montage.
Week Four:
If you can test and you’re using the good home tests, or you’re in a hospital, this is probably when you test positive for pregnancy. Congrats!
Cue the “oh crap I’m pregnant??” Montage. (Yes this will happen even if you wanted it, planned it, and were actively trying to get pregnant. There will be some panic. You very likely will consider getting an abortion even if you’re eager and wanting the pregnancy. Don’t beat yourself up. This is normal.)
Week Five:
If your cycle is reasonably regular, this is when you’re gonna miss your first missed period. If you knew you’re pregnant, this is cool! Menstruation sucks. Not having your period for nine months is one of the best parts of pregnancy. If you didn’t know you’re pregnant, you’re probably panicking about now and buying a home test.
The ClearBlue digital ones are good and they’re in most pharmacies. Get those ones. Buy your prenatals at the same time. If you don’t want them, you don’t want them, but if you do want them, making a second trip is annoying. Also consider taking D3, calcium, fiber gummies, and fish oil. They all support you and baby health and keep the pregnancy from taking more of the nutrients form your body than you can spare.
Week Six:
You feel like you should feel different and don’t, and it’s weird. For those with a longer, or irregular cycle, this might be where you hit the stuff from Week Five. If you’re having the boob inflation like I did, that’s still happening. Buckle up. It’s not gonna stop. Otherwise, you feel weirdly normal. For a character who doesn’t have access to good sex education, they may not even know they’re pregnant yet.
Week Seven:
Basically the same as Week Six. You feel like you should feel different, and don’t. It’s uncommon, but you might start feeling morning sickness around this point. It’ll start as vague nausea and food aversions. This will get worse.
Week Eight:
Your first ultrasound! Congrats! It looks like a gummy bear that twitches! If you have twins, it may or may not be detectable at this point. You can’t tell the sex yet. It’s a gummy bear. If you don’t get an ultrasound for reasons of fictional story, you still might not know you’re pregnant. If you’re going to get an abortion, this is the last chance in many places.
Week Nine:
So It Begins. The morning sickness. You have food poisoning all the time. You feel profoundly like hell and may be prone to puking, and still being hungry, so you go back and keep eating, because you need the calories. This is also when you start getting thirsty all the time. This is because you gain more than half again your blood volume while pregnant. You need that hydration to make blood and amniotic fluid for your baby.
I found ice cream bars with nuts to be very good for dealing with morning sickness, and ginger did absolutely nothing at all. I basically lived on tea for a while there.
Week Ten:
Congrats. You feel like crap basically all the time. My morning sickness was pretty mild and I was puking almost every day. More if I hit a trigger food, which for me was anything that tasted or smelled ‘green’ (zucchini especially but cucumber and most leafy greens too) ‘water smell’ (showering, rain, humidity in general) and the usual ick smells (the trash).
You’re also tired all the time. Naps R Us. If you get flat and comfortable, you’re gonna fall asleep. If you’re flat and uncomfortable you might fall asleep. If you’re reasonably supported and upright you might fall asleep. Just assume you’re gonna be sleeping a lot.
If you’re writing a character with morning sickness, they’re likely to be very cuddly, but also very reluctant to go more than a very quick jog to the toilet.
The good news is that this is also when the major risk of miscarriage is over, and is frequently when people tell their families they’re expecting. Cue lots of celebrations!
Week Eleven:
“What the crap did I get myself into?”
Week Twelve:
“When is this crap gonna go away?”
Your baby is moving now, but you can’t feel it at all. You’ll see it in the ultrasounds however, which is neat.
Week Thirteen: SECOND TRIMESTER
“I have been eating soup and applesauce for FOUR WEEKS and I want Mexican but refried beans went Badly.”
it’s not uncommon to get a UTI at this point because you’re peeing a lot and it’s tough to stay clean because water smell makes you puke. Your doctors will take this uncomfortably seriously. You will get The Good Antibiotics, not the piddly crap they usually give out.
You will also now have very strong opinions about what sucks to puke up, as dictated by your nose, which has opinions about everything. You will have safe foods. Unfortunately for you, you’re just about past needing them.
Week Fourteen:
“I want a sandwich with deli meat, and a whole plate of sushi, and I can’t have either of them. This sucks.”
If you gave up caffeine, this is where that will really get hard. If you were already caffeine free, like I was, you’ll be jonsing for stuff you’re not allowed to have, like raw fish and deli meat. Be strong, but if you waver, it probably isn’t the end of the world.
I’m told this is where cravings kick in, but I didn’t get anything notable, so I don’t know.
Week Fifteen:
This is about the time you kind of start feeling better. They say morning sickness starts improving around Week Thirteen, but for me it was longer. The napping is still a thing, so just be okay with that. This also when I started to show. That really depends on body type. I went into pregnancy carrying a little extra weight because I knew I would lose some during morning sickness (I lost nine pounds and mine wasn’t that bad. Be aware.) so it took a little longer for me to show.
More interestingly, you can actually feel your uterus now. It’s kind of like a grapefruit below your belly button. It will grow. You will be very curious about it the whole time
Week Sixteen
“Hey, I kind of feel better now!”
You have energy again. It’s novel. You can do chores and drive, and generally be a person. It shouldn’t be as exciting as it is, but here we are. Time to decorate the nursery if you have one, and to put together a whole bunch of stuff. It’s also a good time to clean up the ‘first trimester disaster’ that is your comfy spot and the mounds of crap around it.
Week Seventeen:
Still napping a lot, but almost feel human. Watch out for the Icks (your pregnancy sensitivities, like ‘green’ for me, which didn’t go away for my whole pregnancy) but you can actually take a shower without puking in the shower now! Scented products may or may not bother you later, but you’ll want them after you give birth. I threw away my shower gel after it made me sick and I regret it now.
Week Eighteen:
“Wow, I have a Baby Bump!” Cue walking around with your hand in your belly so everyone knows you’re pregnant OR wearing your biggest baggiest clothing to hide it and still feeling like it’s super obvious.
Week Nineteen:
There’s a fair chance you felt your baby move at this point, but unfortunately you’re also farting enough to fill the Hindenburg and this early any kicks feel like gas. Stay away from open flames and you’ll be okay.
Week 20: HALFWAY DONE!
Anatomy scan! This is your second ultrasound and the one where you might find out the sex of your baby. This is also where they’ll look for birth defects and genetic conditions. You may also do a blood test here which can also screen for genetic issues, and problems such as RH incompatibility, which is totally treatable with modern science but could kill a baby in a more medieval story.
Note: you may not find out the gender at this or any point until birth. My little girl got her nickname of Wiggles because she was doing cartwheels and the tech couldn’t get a good look between her legs. We didn’t find out her gender until she was born.
If you do find out, and this is crucial, DO NOT tell anyone but your partner what the sex is, or what names you’re considering. Everyone has opinions and all of them suck. Lie through your teeth about not knowing, or just tell them you want it to be a surprise. Do anything but tell them what they want to know. You will regret it if you do
Week Twenty-One:
“Holy crap that was intense. Definitely a kick!”
This is called the ‘quickening’ and for a fantasy character, will be one of the big ‘you’re really pregnant’ signs, because miscarriage is common. At twenty weeks, that risk is much less, which is a huge relief. Plus, now you’re getting kicks, which are all kinds of fun. It’s your first chance to really interact with the person you’re building inside you!
Week Twenty-Two:
“I need to clean the whole house right now everything is dirty I might rearrange the living room.
Welcome to nesting. It doesn’t go away. Use it to your advantage and clean whatever needs cleaning. Don’t judge yourself for starting and not finishing a project. You’re burning everything you have. Shame isn’t welcome here.
A fantasy character may start cleaning if they’re poor, or making baby clothing.
Week Twenty-Three:
Okay here’s where I started having problems. I have hypermobile ribs and mild scoliosis in my lower spine, these together mean a lot of back pain over the years, which I am very familiar with and which is annoying at best and debilitating at worst.
The issue? Pregnancy comes with a huge dose of the natural chemical relaxin. As the name implies, this softens up your tendons, among other things. If you have hypermobility already, get ready for a whole range of fun new ways to pop your bones out of place.
The worse issue? During pregnancy, you’re not allowed any painkiller but Tylenol. If you’re like me and hyper resistant to most pain meds, you might as well be popping tiktacs for all the good Tylenol will do for you.
Buy a heat pad (NOT A BLANKET, you cannot overheat right now) it will help.
If you tell your medical professionals about this back pain, they will freak out and want to get your kidneys tested, because asymptomatic UTIs can turn into kidney infections very quickly during pregnancy and can get very serious very quickly. If you are familiar with your particular brand of back pain, have the “Chronic Pain and You” conversation with your doctor early. The earlier the better. They still won’t give you anything better than Tylenol, but they probably won’t try to test your kidneys unless you pop a fever
Week Twenty-Four:
Kicking! Those are real kicks! Holy crap! Kicking!
This is so much fun, but it's also pretty unreliable. Baby will kick when it pleases them, not when you want to show someone else, and it'll be sporadic, even until the very end.
You may be getting Braxton hicks contractions. They don’t hurt, but they make your belly tense up, which is amusing. Also, when you orgasm, your uterus will get all hard. It does this normally, you just can’t usually feel it. It might freak you out a little. Coincidentally you will be horny enough to hop aboard just about anything that holds still long enough. Get a willing partner and/or a very fine collection of sex toys and be prepared to spend a lot of time taking yourself in hand.
Week Twenty-Five:
Your Dr appointments now happen every two weeks unless they’re worried about something. Also, buy a really comfortable pair of slip on shoes. Your time of being able to reach your feet is coming to an end and you’re gonna want them. Pro: maternity clothing is super soft and comfy and you’re gonna be delighted to wear it. It does tend to come in an unfortunate variety of ‘little house on the preggo’ floral patterns with demure necklines, but there’s some good stuff out there
Week Twenty-Six:
The Eater Beast Appears. You’re hungry all the time. No really. All the time. Constantly. Nuts are good for a snack. I ate a lot of peanut butter and apples. You may be having cravings. If so, lean into them. Have fun with it. This is the good part of your pregnancy.
Plus side, EVERYTHING tastes good!
Week Twenty-Seven
You REALLY look pregnant now. People will start asking when you’re due and giving you bad advice. Don’t murder them. You can probably get away with it, but cleaning up all that blood is hard when you can’t actually get off the ground without help anymore.
Week Twenty-Eight: THIRD TRIMESTER
Final ultrasound and gestational diabetes testing. The ultrasound is fun because Baby looks like a baby now! Holy crap! There’s a whole person inside you! You contain twice the usual number of bones! If you’re having a boy, you have in fact grown a pair.
My baby had a tiny little heart defect, so we talked to a specialist at this point. Try not to freak out if this happens. Defects like that are very easy to fix, and often go away on their own as my girl’s did.
The diabetes testing is different for everyone. They’ll have you drink a glycerin drink (get the orange flavored one. It’s reasonably inoffensive and you have to chug the stuff) and will test your blood to see how you react to the sugars. Don’t freak out if it’s positive. Most of the time gestational diabetes goes away after birth. If you’re borderline, they’ll test you again but for three hours rather than one.
The glycerin drink made me really sick and I refused to do the three hour testing. They will get very grumpy if you do this, however, you can buy a diabetic testing kit and track your blood sugars four times a day for a week instead, and they’ll accept that too. (Don’t get the one they prescribe. The Contour Next is cheap, reliable, easy to use, and doesn’t cost $200)
They might want you to change your diet and exercise. You will want to murder them for this. Don’t do it. Go for the damn walks and eat less carbs. It will kind of suck, but it’s for your baby, and it isn’t permanent.
Week Twenty-Nine
Return of the Nap Demon. You will sleep SO MUCH. Let it happen. Your body is working hard to build another person. Have mercy on yourself. Eat. Be okay with the weight gain. A lot of it is the baby inside you and your placenta, and the fluid you need to support them both. You need the calories.
Also, LACTATION! This is when two more of your orifices, which previously did not leak, start to leak. This too, will get worse. You can save the colostrum for your baby though, which can be helpful.
Week Thirty:
The Final Countdown. You’re ten weeks off your due date and if you haven’t already, you need to figure out how and where you want to give birth. Talk with your midwives and doctors. If you’re high risk, they won’t want you to give birth outside a hospital. This will feel crappy, but is honestly the safest choice provided you’re willing to tell doctors to piss off when needed. Start figuring out your birth plan. Talk to other expecting parents.
Week Thirty-One:
“Ugh, I’m huge.”
At this point, your character absolutely is not getting on a horse without a lot of help, and cannot ride for long regardless without serious discomfort or even pain. A fall could mean losing the baby, or a serious injury, and the undercarriage is not gonna handle having that much weight on it for long without protestations.
Week Thirty-Two
“Why am I crying? I’m not actually upset about anything and yet, I am hysterical.”
Warn your partner about this phase beforehand. They won’t believe how bad it’s gonna get, but the warning is still nice to have. Remind them that you warned them between bites of your favorite ice cream.
Week Thirty-Three:
Everyone you know who has baby stuff will try to give it to you. Be prepared to refuse whatever you don’t want. Be merciless or you will be flooded with broken baby crap you don’t want until you find some other poor soul to pawn it off on.
Week Thirty-Four:
You’ve been talking names, but now it’s time to decide for real. Try to follow this guide with your baby name options. Your kid will thank you for it.
1. Easy to say (no weird pronunciations)
2. Easy to spell (you are permitted ONE silent letter and no more)
3. Does not require explanation (Cultural names of a culture you’re not part of, especially)
4. Sounds good with middle and last name
5. Initials don’t spell something weird or stupid (Dora Indigo Kennedy sounds great, but the initials spell DIK)
6. Has agreeable nicknames (Elizabeth > Lizzy)
7. Isn’t a gimme for bullies to make fun of (Pubert)
8. Isn’t in the top 10 most popular names within the last five years. (Don’t want five of them in the same class)
9. Is not the name of someone you hate, even if it’s also the name of a family member. (obviously)
Follow these, and you will have a happy child who does not resent you for naming them something weird and messed up that no one can ever say or spell correctly, and which they have to explain every time they introduce themselves
Week Thirty-Five
You’re huge. You’ve just about reached maximum size and if your baby comes early at this point, they’ll probably be fine. This is immensely reassuring, because you have spent the last several months panicking about what if the baby comes early. Nightly baths are amazing. Also, your hair and nails will grow super fast right now, so be ready for that.
Week Thirty-Six:
Mobility is a serious issue. Stairs are hard. So are curbs. Getting into and out of a car is a Process and getting up off the couch or out of bed takes a While unless you have help. Your balance is screwed and you waddle now. You’re a real fall risk and that does change how you interact with the world.
You also probably can’t unload the laundry if it’s a top-loader, and you might not be able to do the dish washer either. Bonus! Less chores
Week Thirty-Seven:
Remember the Nap Demons? They’re back and they brought a friend. Heartburn Hell. It’s been bad for a while but it’s worse now. Skip the tums and go for something stronger.
Week Thirty-Eight:
Your craps are gone. Baby is due in fourteen days and you have given up on your good habits. You’re probably still walking, but only because Baby has their head lodged against your cervix and is trying to burrow out. People call this lightning crotch for a reason because it really feels like you have a taser lodged up there that gives you a shock now and then
On the plus side, baby kicks like crazy now and that’s both awesome and kind of uncomfortable. You can play with their feet and poke them, and they’ll probably have a favorite place to hang out in your belly. Pro tip, if baby just will not settle, get a hot pack and put it against the side where they hang out. They’ll curl up and go to sleep on it. Just make sure you don’t overheat.
If you think anyone this pregnant is doing much of anything except growl about how heavy they feel and eat, you’re wrong. Nobody is leading armies to war like this. Anyone trying to fight because their life is immediately in danger will probably lose because they are large, heavy, clumsy, and their center of gravity is toast.
Week Thirty-Nine:
The last rush of Nesting and it’ll be a bad one. You’re gonna try to do all kinds of stupid crap, like scrubbing the floors (you get stuck) climbing up ladders (you are a fall risk, get down) trying to drive places (you get dizzy, you should not be driving at this point) and trying to lift heavy stuff (absolutely not). You might try to paint your nursery or hang curtains. I tried to plant my whole garden. Don’t be me
Week Forty:
The Due Date Has Come. You’re now on baby-watch. You’re probably having a ton of Braxton Hicks, but the big difference between them and the real deal is pain. Braxton Hicks don’t hurt and real ones kind of feel like period cramps. How uncomfortable contractions are at first will really depend on how you handle pain.
Week Forty-One:
“What the hell do you mean I haven’t gone into labor yet?? Get this child out of me!”
Week Forty-Two:
“Crap. I’m just gonna be pregnant forever, huh? …oh crap. I think my water just broke.”
The usual questions:
Morning sickness:
So, morning sickness isn’t puking all the time. In fact if you’re puking more than once a day it’s a serious medical condition called hyperemesis gravidarum and sometimes requires medication
More commonly it’s a general sense of not feeling well, followed by brief but dramatic puking. Honestly, the closest analogy is really bad food poisoning when you can feel the puke coming, but it hasn’t come yet
During the morning sickness phase, you HAVE to eat. Not eating makes it so much worse, so it helps if you set a strict schedule of eating a snack or a small meal every two hours you’re awake, and as soon as you wake and right before bed. Apple sauce good. Doesn’t suck coming back up. Same with most soups. Avoid spicy, acids, and crunchy stuff. They’re all miserable coming back. Drink a LOT of water.
Scents will be a problem. Your sense of smell goes haywire and cranks up to 11. I’m practically noseblind and I could smell the apples in my kitchen from across the house. Normally this would be fun. During morning sickness, it means fun new ways to puke in exciting places. The smell difference between being inside and going outside is sometimes enough, and any of your trigger scents or flavors will get you reliably. Scented products are a hard no. Pack them away for now. You’ll want them later.
The hard part is that doing anything strenuous, like hanging out with friends or going to the grocery store, will make it worse for the days following. The exhaustion compounds. You absolutely can’t borrow from tomorrow’s spoons and trying to push yourself will just lead to being even worse off the next day. You HAVE to rest. It’s not optional and your body will enforce it on you.
It does help to get an essential oil you like and wear it in a diffuser. I used lavender, but any smell you like and which doesn’t smell like death to you will work. Make sure it isn’t touching skin. A lot of oils are caustic, and some are toxic.
Other than that, just try to ride it out. It doesn’t last.
Body changes:
It starts out slow and then lingers. You’ll feel like you should be showing way before you are, but once you hit your second trimester, it’s very obvious you’re pregnant, and one you hit the third trimester they can probably see you from space. You waddle. Your coordination goes down the tubes, you’re hot all the time, thirsty and hungry all the time, and exhausted a lot of the time.
You will also stink. Your BO will spike with your hormones and unfortunately, you will absolutely not want to bathe until the third trimester, when you want to be in the water all the time.
Your hair will, however, be awesome. Preggo hair is a thing. So is post-partum shedding, so be ready to shed more than three long-hair cats. It’s a thing. Unfortunately this does include your body hair, which will grow fast and thick. If it bothers you, you’re gonna be shaving a lot.
Here’s where it gets TMI, but if you’re writing a pregnant character or you’re pregnant/want to get pregnant yourself, you gotta know. There will be itching. You will not be able to shave your undercarriage at all after a certain point, so if it matters that much, you’ll need help. Your cooch will also smell different. Weird, but there it is.
Being in water helps immensely I spent a lot of my pregnancy in the bath and I strongly credit that for helping to support my back and ribs, which were not thrilled about the temporary tenant. It also helps with the ‘ugh I’m heavy’ complaint. Spend as much time in the water as you can, but remember not to let it get more than 100 degrees, or you can put Baby and yourself at risk. You have a lot more blood in your body right now. That makes for certain issues, such as fainting.
You will feel heavy. This is most notable during the third trimester, but when it becomes a problem, it really becomes a problem.
This is a problem because the only pain killer you’re allowed is Tylenol, and not much of that. If you’re in screaming pain, you can go totally hospital but they probably won’t give you anything for it. There’s a serious risk to your baby; and while they won’t prioritize the baby over you, you’re the one who is driving the bus, so they’re gonna make you obey the metaphorical traffic laws.
Labor:
Game day. You’ve been waiting for this for nine months and thank anything holy it’s finally here.
It starts as little flutters that kind of feel like gas, and you’ll probably be farting a fair bit anyway because you have a baby squishing your organs in every direction. After a while, it’ll start to feel more like cramping, and that’s when you know it’s game day. You start timing them at that point, and here’s where Hollywood starts messing up.
Labor is slow.
I was contracting for about ten hours before my water broke. If you’re pregnant, buy the adult diapers. Just do it. Put them on as soon as you realize you’re in labor. What comes out of you when your water breaks is foul. It’s not water. It’s slime, and it’s stinky. Sometimes it’s brown. It’s never something you want on anything you’re planning to keep. The diaper will contain it and you will be GLAD.
So ten hours in, my water broke. This is the sign that it’s not false labor. You’re ready to rock and roll.
This is also where my story differs from most.
Generally, when your water breaks, you’re about ten hours from pushing. Those ten hours will suck, but the nurses are mostly really nice and you can kick the mean ones out without repercussion. If you don’t vibe with one, switch tjem out. You don’t have to keep a nurse you don’t like.
The contractions will get stronger and they will get more painful. The nurses will call them “intense”. That’s bullcrap. It hurts. If you want medication, you have options. Ask for them freely and without shame.
Pushing is kind of a blur. You’ll be on so many endorphins and probably an epidural, that you’ll be in a haze. You push with the contractions for best effect. You’re gonna poop. This is good. Means you’re pushing right. You absolutely will not care in the moment.
It will feel like it’s not progressing at all, but your support people are gonna be on the ball and they’ll give you updates. If you have an epidural, it helps. If not, breathe through it and ride the endorphins. The worst part is when the head isn’t entirely through the cervix and everything is stretching a whole lot. Once the head is in the channel and you’re making progress, it gets easier.
It still hurts a whole lot, even with the meds, but you honestly won’t care because your whole body is designed to do this thing, and it’s GONNA do it at this point, whether you want to or not.
As soon as the head is out, the rest of the baby follows, and it sort of feels like you’ve been gutted. Things because you pretty much have. Birthing the placenta is entirely secondary to your tiny new baby and getting sewn up if you tear is uncomfortable, but after everything else, pretty negligible. Also, new baby!
Afterwards:
So, postpartum recovery sucks. All those endorphins are gone, you’re no longer on pain meds, and you just squeezed a baby through your cooch. You probably have stitches, and everything hurts. Walking is hard and without help, it’s also dangerous. You’re a fall risk. Do not try to hold your baby and walk at the same time unless you absolutely must. That’s what your birth support person is for. If you don’t have one, they’ll provide one.
Peeing hurts. Pooping is worse. You will be passing blood clots and your underwear (remember, get the adult diapers. They’re way better) will look like that scene from The Shining with the blood tsunami. This is all normal but it’s pretty horrifying.
They will give you various products to help with recovery. Some work better than others. Use all of them. The compound effects help.
It will be about three weeks before you feel like you can pee without it hurting. It’ll be closer to six before you can poop without worrying. Either way, there will be some major changes to your squishy parts.
Me specifically:
Remember how I mentioned my story was different? Yeah. So I was in labor for 62 hours, and pushed for five of those before my daughter was born.
For most of it, it was just waiting for my body to get into gear, and then when I wasn’t progressing, for the pitocin to kick in. I didn’t want to be on pitocin, but I wasn’t going to risk my baby, and labor that long comes with some real risks to mother and baby.
I did have both fentanyl (which for reasons of my messed up biology doesn’t affect me at all) and an epidural, which did help, but was hindered by my scoliosis. (Having a curve in your spine makes it hard to put the needle in the right place).
I could have had a c section, but I was very against it and since we were doing okay, despite it taking a long time, they let me have a vaginal birth.
This is not normal and is a product of my messed up biology. Your experience may differ.
Breastfeeding:
Okay babies do not come out of the uterus knowing how to do this. They’re really bad at latching at first and it will take a few tries to get them to latch. Even then, if they have a high palate or a tongue tie, they may struggle to latch.
Even so, breastfeeding really is an incredible feeling of knowing nature built you so right that you can keep your whole baby alive with just what your body makes for them.
This can make breastfeeding hard, and even if they have a good latch, it kind of sucks for a while as your nipples get used to nursing and your milk comes in. You’ll produce colostrum for the first few days, and that will slowly turn to milk over a week or so.
Baby will need to eat basically every hour for the first few weeks, then every two hours, but in greater amounts. As they get better at feeding, it gets easier, but there’s no shame in using formula as a support for your milk. The goal is to keep the baby alive.
Once you’re both used to it, you can even nap pretty well while you feed, especially once you’re in bed. Just make sure there’s absolutely no risk of dropping or rolling on top of the baby.
Your Baby:
Here’s the good part. Babies are awesome! They’re cute, they’re fun, and they’re deeply entertaining to mess with. Make sure you have a basket of toys for your baby, and let the good times roll, even when things are hard. They’ll only be this small once, The tiny baby clothes feel too small until you put them on. I’m keeping all of mine. I don’t know what I’ll use them for, but they’re too cute to get rid of.
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Hi! can I request a poly misamo (mimo g!p) with vampire mina, werewolf momo, and succubus sana (if you’re not comfy with writing succubus, pls feel free to change or remove it) where they meet at a bar then start flirting until they end up fucking in sana’s house? Momo being turned on at their scents bc of her sensitive nose, mina teasing them both with her fangs, and sana’s dirty talk making mimo even harder. Thank you and happy halloween!
enjoy! here's part one :)
Devil's Night
3.5k words
CW: GP, vampires, werewolves, demons, Sana has some maybe questionable supernatural abilities when it comes to getting her way...
[GP!Vampire!Mina x Succubus!Sana x GP!Werewolf!Momo]
There were, at any given moment, only a handful of safe bars in the city for undiscovered monsters, folkloric creatures and hybrids to congregate for a drink without fearful, judgmental stares from the rest of the human population.
But in the days leading up to Halloween, it was a little easier to slip undetected among the throngs of people out celebrating.
It was Devil's Night, the night before Halloween, and Mina felt an invisible, out of character pull toward the dark club she now found herself walking into in the district of the city most known for its vibrant nightlife. The throb of the heavy bass hit her eardrums at the same time her vampiric senses detected the astounding number of beating hearts inside. Once inside, Mina flocked to the bar on the main level and watched the crowd around her with rapt fascination: the shadows of happy, drunken people with sweating drinks in hand, the way lasers and lights hit their faces every so often, the way they erupted in cheers when they recognized the remixed versions of Rezz, Hante and darkwave pop songs that played overhead.
At the bar, she ordered a glass of ice. The bartender gave her a funny look. “No water?” he’d asked, but complied. Shortly after receiving her cup of ice, Mina headed for the bathroom.
She ducked into a stall quickly, keeping her face out of view as best she could to avoid the mirrors in front of the sinks as girls nearby touched up their makeup, took selfies and washed their hands. No one noticed her, though. She emerged from the stall shortly after, knowing whoever cleaned up was going to get a real Halloween fright when they found the drained bag of donated blood in the trash receptacle reserved for menstruation products.
Mina weaved her way back to the bar with her glass in hand. She normally preferred her blood warm and from a willing, living source, but if she wanted to blend in, it needed to look like a dark mixed drink, so she settled for sipping O negative on ice through a straw so it wouldn’t stain her lips and alarm anyone close to her. She wasn’t opposed to drinking alcohol, but alcohol lowered her inhibitions, and right now she needed help to resist the club full of living juice boxes: people full of an array of blood types, some regular and some spiked– those that had all sorts of fun, illicit substances in their systems.
The vampire licked her lips absentmindedly and staked out a new seat toward the end of the bar, away from the guy who had taken her order. The number of people coming in to dance kept rising. Usually the vampire avoided this kind of environment, but there really was some sort of magnetic attraction to the space she couldn’t shake off. She wanted to stay a little longer.
She swiveled around on the bar stool, thinking about taking a look at the Halloween drink specials, only to bump into someone next to her.
“Oh,” she said softly, then found her voice over the blaring club music, “Sorry!”
The woman who she had bumped into turned around. “No worries!” she said, offering Mina a smile.
Mina, had she still been human, knew her heart rate would’ve spiked after taking in the woman’s appearance. She was stunning. As the woman smiled, the vampire found the corners of her own mouth turning up, too.
The stranger beside her was everything Mina wasn’t: warm, athletic and rugged. She was dressed as a sexy zookeeper in short khaki shorts, a suggestively unbuttoned khaki shirt with multiple pockets, and a red bandana around her neck. A pair of high heeled Timberland boots finished off her look. Her stylish, shaggy wolf cut framed her face perfectly, and Mina couldn’t help but notice just how well toned the woman’s body was.
“Wow,” the other woman spoke, giving Mina a not-so-subtle once over. “You must need, like, SPF 500.”
Mina blinked at the other woman. Then she remembered how pale she must’ve looked in comparison. Lacking a reflection (save for when she looked in ponds, lakes, or full bathtubs) made it hard to remember what her features looked like to other people. “Oh,” she said, looking down at her drink. “Uh, yeah, kinda.”
Momo offered an apologetic smile. “Sorry,” she said. “I just meant, like— you’re really pretty, is what I’m trying to say.”
Mina perked up a bit at that. “Thank you,” she said, allowing herself to look up into the woman’s golden eyes. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Momo,” the woman said, switching her drink to her left hand and extending her right out to shake. Mina took it and their touch was like fire meeting ice. She knew her hands were cold all the time, but this woman’s hand seemed far warmer than a normal human’s. Mina’s mouth watered a little, detecting Momo’s steady pulse quickly.
“And you are?”
The vampire shook off her blood-centered thoughts. “I’m Mina,” she said, offering a shy smile.
“Oh wow, your fangs are great!” Momo said, leaning in as Mina spoke. “And your contacts— where did you find red-rimmed ones? I love a good vampire costume.”
Mina blushed. “I um, I have a friend who does special fx makeup,” she said quickly. It was a complete lie, but what other choice did she have? She never revealed herself during fleeting encounters with humans.
“Yours are really nice, too,” the vampire added, nodding toward Momo’s eyes. “What a pretty golden color.”
It was Momo’s turn to freeze for a moment. “Oh these– I mean, thank you,” she said, taking a sip of her drink quickly.
Mina didn’t miss the awkward beat and felt bad. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I didn’t mean to make you self conscious.”
Momo leaned in a little closer, brushing her arm against Mina’s. “No! No, not at all,” she said, thinking quickly, “Just– forgot I was wearing them,” she said with a nervous laugh.
Mina was about to ask if she could buy her a drink when a voice behind them interrupted.
“Wow, you two have got to be the hottest couple here.”
Momo and Mina both turned around to find a dizzyingly pretty stranger before them. She was some sort of demon, it appeared, but a slutty version. The two tried their best not to let their eyes linger for too long, but it was hard not to stare.
The mystery woman wore ripped black thigh high stockings secured with black garters and recognizable red-bottomed black heels. A shiny black bodysuit covered her top half, but left plenty to the imagination with a criss-cross cutout running down from the top to the middle of the suit. She wore a tattered black cape that barely covered her ass, her deep red lipstick matched the back of her heels, and the dark, almost ombré-esque horns on top of her head were the perfect finishing touch. They looked sturdy and quite well made.
“Oh,” Mina said, recovering first while Momo’s jaw hung slightly slack. “We’re– we’re not a couple.” She noticed that the new woman’s ears were slightly pointed, too, and wondered what kind of prosthetics she was using.
The demon girl seemed unphased. “Oh, aren’t you?” she asked, her voice as sweet as it was sultry. “Saves me from embarrassing myself and hitting on both of you, then.”
It was then that Momo finally found her voice. “You can hit on us,” she blurted.
A small smile crossed the demon’s lips as Momo blushed instantly. “I mean, I-I can’t speak for Mina but…”
The demon’s eyebrows went up. “So you do know each other?”
Mina watched the girl curiously. “Barely,” she piped up. She felt strangely compelled to keep this conversation going. Despite not caring what most people thought of her, she wanted this girl to like her. “We just met.”
The woman hummed thoughtfully. “I see,” she said, a playful smile still present. “Well if either of you are interested…I’m heading to the bar on the upper level,” she said, flicking her eyes up to the more secluded lounge upstairs.
“Isn’t that VIP?” Momo asked. “I uh, I don’t think I can get in there.”
“Me either,” Mina said, taking a sip of her chilled blood. She gripped her glass a little tighter while she eyed the demon girl’s exposed upper thighs, trying her best not to think about femoral arteries.
“I can get you in,” the woman shrugged. “It’s no trouble,” she said, eyes roaming over the two of them. “Really.”
Momo and Mina looked at each other. Momo had an amused smile on her face now, and Mina noticed the shade of gold her eyes had been a minute ago was now a little darker. Mina’s breath caught. Colored contacts didn’t normally change color. She couldn’t be inhuman too, could she..?
“I’m in,” Momo said, interrupting Mina’s train of thought. “Mina?”
Mina looked at the two women in front of her. She knew she shouldn’t. It was risky and there was no guarantee that even if things went her way, that either of them would be into what she told humans was her “severe blood play kink.” But getting a drink with two women, especially ones this attractive, was too tempting to pass up. Isn’t this the point of Devils’ Night? she asked herself. To take advantage of the lifting of the veil between her world and humans’?
“Okay,” she said, surprising herself and sliding off of the bar stool.
The horned demon led the way through the crowd of dancing people in costumes of all kinds. Momo followed after, with Mina bringing up the rear. At the top of the stairs, the entrance to the lounge, a burly security guard stopped them. “If you don’t have wristbands already, I’ll need names to confirm you on my list,” he said gruffly.
“Minatozaki Sana,” the demon said sweetly, twirling some of her long, dark hair around her finger. The guard went to check the guest list pulled up on his phone, but she touched his arm lightly, making him look up at her first. “There should be two guests as well,” she said, smiling at him.
The guard looked at her. He paused for a moment, then blinked. “Two guests,” he repeated monotonously, putting his phone away and allowing them in. He didn’t even check the list.
Momo and Mina exchanged awe-struck glances before following after her. The second level of the club was much less crowded. The lighting was more dim too, but Mina had no trouble seeing in the dark. It looked like Momo had adjusted just fine, too, as the demon led them to a secluded area around the corner.
She chose a table that had a long booth on one side and chairs on the other. Momo slid into the booth first, followed by Sana. Mina was going to snag one of the chairs, but was stopped.
“Sit next to me?” the demon girl asked. It was a suggestion, but Mina’s body reacted as if it were a command and she found herself nodding, abandoning the chair and sliding in next to her so Sana was in the middle.
Sana beamed. “Are you thirsty?” she asked the two of them.
“I can get us some drinks,” Momo offered, moving to get up, but Sana shook her head.
“No, no, you stay here,” she said, and Momo stayed put.
“Excuse me?” the demon said, catching the attention of a passing staff member.
Minutes later, two rounds of shots were delivered to their table, on the house, despite the fact that this was very much not one of those clubs with table service or an establishment that gave drinks out for free.
“Whoa,” Momo said as they each were presented with glasses of water, slotted spoons, two sugar cubes, and two small glasses of curiously green liquor. “Do you like, know the owner or something?”
Sana laughed, wetting the sugar cubes for the three of them so they would start to drip into the green liquid. “Something like that. I’m Sana, by the way,” she said.
Momo and Mina introduced themselves again, taking in their new environment. Away from the heavier crowds, Momo’s hypersensitive nose wasn’t so overloaded with surrounding scents. She watched as the sugar dissolved through the slotted spoon, disappearing into the drink. She brought it up to her nose and sniffed lightly. It smelled unlike anything she’d ever tasted before.
The vampire, on the other hand, recognized it almost immediately.
“Absinthe? Mina asked curiously.
“Very good,” Sana said. “Fitting for Devil's Night, don’t you think?”
Momo hummed, but Mina looked a little anxious. “Devil's Night?” she asked. “You’re…familiar?”
Sana shrugged. “Quite,” she said. “I like to celebrate by window shopping along all of the clubs in the city. If one looks good enough, sometimes I’ll drop in.”
The vampire picked up her glass and took a sip. She couldn’t believe Sana had ordered two for each of them. The unmistakable anise and fennel flavors took over her tongue immediately. There was no way she was going to finish both given how strong they were.
Then she frowned. It was like she was only now understanding what Sana had just said.
“Window shop?” Mina asked, puzzled by the woman’s choice of words. “For what?”
“A treat, of course,” Sana said, offering no further explanation. She looked between the two of them. “What about you two?” she asked. “Here for Devil's Night or just having a fun Halloweekend?”
Momo’s face reddened a little. “I’m…uh, Devils’ Night,” she said.
Sana’s eyes flicked over to Mina. They seemed to look straight into Mina’s soul, or lack thereof while she waited for her to answer.
“Same here,” Mina said quickly, hoping the follow up question wasn’t going to be ‘Why?’
“I thought you both might be,” Sana said, pausing to drink some of her absinthe. She had long, black acrylic nails that she now tapped thoughtfully on the side of her glass. “Forgive me for asking so soon after meeting, but how do we smell to you, Momo?” she asked with a grin, making the athletic girl nearly choke.
“S-smell?” Momo asked nervously, tugging at the bandana around her neck a little. She almost reminded Mina a little bit of Scooby Doo in her mannerisms.
Sana put a hand on Momo’s thigh and leaned in toward her neck. “I’ve always been curious to know what a vampire smells like, if anything, to a werewolf.”
Mina’s eyes widened at that and she slid out of the booth with lightning speed at the same time Momo was scrambling to get up on the other end.
Sana just laughed, taking another sip of her drink. “Relax,” she said, checking out her nails casually. “I’m not a threat. And I’m not human, either.”
“Then…?” Mina asked. She couldn’t finish her question. Her vampiric instinct was telling her to flee, but she hadn’t run off like she had planned. Her feet felt glued to the floor. She couldn’t bring herself to leave, but she also couldn’t bring herself to sit back down.
“H-how did you know?” Momo asked. She was sitting at the edge of the booth. Her fight or flight instinct seemed to be stalled, too.
“I’ll tell you if you drink with me, please?” Sana batted her eyelashes at them. “Just one little drink.”
Realizing she was probably drawing more attention to herself by standing, Mina begrudgingly obliged and sat back down, sliding back over next to Sana. “Fine,” she said. She reached for her glass, knocking back the first round of absinthe in one go. Her eyes watered and she almost coughed, but she kept it down, clearing her throat once the alcohol was safely traveling down her esophagus. It was over the top, maybe, but now she could at least say she’d had one drink if she needed to hightail it out of there.
Sana’s eyes seemed to glow. “Wow,” she said. She then turned to the werewolf. “Momo?”
Momo seemed stiffer than Mina had been, and it took a few seconds before her body relaxed again. Hesitantly, she slid back over next to Sana, too.
She looked at Mina, who shared her bewildered expression, and then followed the vampire’s lead, downing her first glass of absinthe, too. She grimaced, licking her lips the way a dog would after realizing the treat it had just eaten was stuffed with medicine.
Sana smirked. “Mm, I love being right,” she said, clearly pleased with herself. “A sexy vampire and a sexy werewolf, what luck.”
Momo and Mina peered at each other curiously.
“So– your fangs..?” Momo asked.
“Real,” Mina said. She couldn’t believe she was admitting this so freely, in a public space no less.
“And your eyes… no full moon, huh?” Mina offered up.
Momo chuckled. “Not tonight,” she said sheepishly.
“But it will be in like, two days,” Sana said, bringing their attention back to her. “What are you doing out so close to the start of your rut cycle, little werewolf?” she said, using one of her nails to gently touch just under Momo’s chin. She turned Momo’s head, making the werewolf look at her before resting her hand on Momo’s thigh again.
Momo blushed.
Sana’s other hand made its way to Mina’s thigh. “You’re taking a risk too, aren’t you? A little vampire on her very best behavior while surrounded by walking blood-flavored Capri Suns,” she giggled. It wasn’t malicious in any way, but Mina still went red, which really only made her look slightly more human as the hint of color made its way to her pale face.
“Enough about us,” Momo said, feeling suddenly protective of the pretty vampire. “You said you’re no threat or a human. So what are you?”
“Hmm. An appreciator of gorgeous women, for starters,” Sana said, taking her hand off Momo’s thigh to finish off her first glass of absinthe. “Please,” she said, nudging the second glasses toward them.
There it was again– that invisible persuading force. Momo brought the second glass up to her lips carefully. The alcohol was already running amok through her system. And even though she was still slightly distressed by the mystery woman’s ability to clock her so easily, she was also starting to become slightly aroused. The demon girl beside her smelled sinfully good, as did the vampire, almost earthy, like late fall leaves.
And not only did they smell good, Momo thought, they were both incredibly attractive. She found Mina alluring with her sleek, perfectly conditioned long dark hair and sharp fangs tucked behind those pretty lips, and Sana’s entire presence was devastatingly sexy. Her costume didn’t help with the werewolf’s arousal, either.
Mina found herself drinking from her second glass, too. The buzz was hitting her faster than anything she’d experienced when she was human. Like Momo, she was unsettled, but mildly turned on. Momo’s bangs kept getting in her eyes, making her look slightly doe eyed when she looked up, and Sana, whatever she was, was downright delicious, especially with her know-it-all attitude. And both of them had hearts pumping plenty of warm blood through their bodies.
They watched as Sana then tapped on one of the curled, thick dark horns on her head. “Not a costume,” she admitted.
“Y-you’re a demon?” Mina asked, shocked.
Sana pouted. “Don’t say it like that,” she said, her voice darkening for a millisecond. “I’m not scary.”
She paused. “Well. Not all the time.” She looked up between the two of them to make sure their eyes were on her. Mina and Momo watched, unsure whether to feel horrified or impressed, as Sana showed more of herself to them. The whites of her eyes vanished for a moment, completely overtaken by empty blackness.
And then, just as soon as it happened, it was over and Sana’s big, brown irises came back into view among the whites of her eyes.
Momo’s heart rate spiked and Mina sensed it immediately. She found it strangely sexy of Sana to be able to get Momo’s heart racing with such little effort. Vampirism had really changed her turn-ons over the years.
“S-so what is this, then? What do you want with us?” Momo asked. She peered down at Sana’s hand on her thigh, suddenly afraid of getting hard in front of her and Mina.
“Aw, am I making you nervous, Momo?” Sana giggled lightly, bringing a hand up to toy with the werewolf’s bandana. She hooked a finger under it, pulling Momo close as if to kiss her. She waited for a second to see how the werewolf would react, and just as she’d thought, Momo inched closer.
“I just want to have some fun,” she said, barely brushing her lips against Momo’s. Sana turned away from her then to look at Mina. Her eyes moved down between the vampire’s legs while her hand moved up the vampire’s thigh and squeezed it lightly. “With both of you.”
The demon smirked, removing her hands from both the other two’s bodies and picked up her second glass of absinthe. “I know you two are already interested in each other based off of the way you were gazing at each other when I first saw you,” she said, making the word sound more like gay-zing. “So…is there room for one more?”
Mina nodded at the same time Momo stammered a shy “Yes.”
“Well then,” said Sana, picking up her remaining glass for a toast. “Cheers to Devil's Night.”
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