#hunter x vampire

[epiclamer]

hi bbygorl epiclamer may i request something about dracula villain and hunter hero pleek

spicy, angsty, whatever suits u

I love how you started this ask.

Dracula

Hero froze, every hair on the back of their neck all the way down to their toes stood on edge, alerting to a presence they couldn’t see. Earlier they could’ve sworn they heard something or someone down the alleyway and they couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. They blamed it on being paranoid. They blamed it on foolishness.

But now?

Now, they were sure of themselves. Someone or something was here with them. Watching them, stalking them, crowding them so close they were practically touching, but every time Hero turned to look, no one was there.

It was the type of feeling that drove one mad.

The hero took another deep breath, trying to settle their raging thoughts as they closed their eyes. Feeling the ghostly tickle of warmth breath against their neck that made them shiver.

Settling themselves before they turned once more, only this time they decided to greet their watcher with a not-so friendly punch. Whirling around with all of their strength laid in their fist, feeling it hit and being almost relieved.

That was, before they realized that they hadn’t landed a punch at all. No, in fact, their hit had been caught, their fist held in another’s lax hand as they heard the all too familiar chuckle of their nemesis ring out.

“Adorable.”

Hero wrenched their fist back before Villain could tighten their grasp any more.

“I am not.”

The vampire’s smirk only grew. Soft red eyes gleaming in the darkness of the alleyway. A piercing gaze that Hero should’ve recognized the second they felt watched.

“No? Then why are your cheeks all pink if not to kill others with your cuteness, mousey?”

Hero only flushed even darker—because of their rage, of course, not because of the teasing.

“I am not a mouse.”

“No, not just a regular old mouse. You’re my mousey. I thought we’d been over this before, hm?”

The particular gleam in Villains eyes looked hungry, so very hungry. It was intense and captivating, Hero just wanted to stare forever into those beautiful red eyes… Slowly drifting away into calmness… Slowly falling asleep to those ruby red eyes…

Villain didn’t waste any more time in pinning the malleable hunter against the wall. “Not so fast, dearest. Don’t stare for too long or you might drift off right into my arms, hm?”

Hero snapped back to reality, gaze broken off from their enemy’s as they regained all consciousness of their situation. Struggling at the overwhelming presence of life coming back to them all at once, they gasped.

The hunter’s hands grappled at their nemesis, something solid to hold onto and something real to stabilize their running mind. They needed to calm down, they needed their cuffs or their stake or even just something as simple as a clove of garlic.

But their enemy was too close for comfort now and if they didn’t get control they would lose this fight. They couldn’t lose this fight.

“Relax, Hero. I promise I won’t bite, yet…”

Unfortunately, Villains words were far from anything that could be considered comforting.

Hero willed themselves to stay strong, to keep their stoic facade and finally capture the villain after they had been fighting for so long. But the other part of them was stronger, the vampire’s magic was stronger, and with one last shared glance, Hero fell limp in Villains arms.

#Could be spicy #Could not #We may never know #hero #villain #hero x villain #villain and hero #villain x hero #hero and villain #vampire #vampire villain #hunter hero #heroes #Villains #heroes x villains #villains and heroes #villains x heroes #heroes and villains #hunter #hunter x vampire

[yourheartonfire]

"In every losing fight there's a window," Mentor had said, all those years ago, "between the moment you realize you can't win and the moment it's too late to retreat. Everyone loses sometimes. You'll survive - if you don't get caught outside the window."

Something coiled around the protagonist's ankle and yanked them back to the present. They hit the slimy pavement hard on their hip. A familiar form stood over them - between them and the only exit from this dead-end alley.

"Is that a whip?" the protagonist gasped as they lurched to their feet to circle backwards, scrubbing the rainwater and blood out of their eyes. "A little kinky, don't you think?"

The antagonist curled the long leather tail through their hands - so deceptively human looking, if you ignored the claws. They weren't even breathing hard. Not that the antagonist breathed or got cold or tired. Oh god the protagonist was screwed. "It seemed appropriate for this confrontation," the antagonist said mildly, wrinkling their nose in distaste as they glanced up at the sky dumping rain on them both.

"Oh this is a confrontation?" the protagonist sneered, trying to keep their hands steady as they raised their silver edged sword. The antagonist hadn't brought any other weapon and wasn't that a taunt. The protagonist was going to lose. They had to keep the window open as long as possible.

"Yes." The antagonist crossed their arms, red eyes gleaming in the streetlight. "You see, [protagonist], I need you alive. And you are trying to get yourself killed. Now what are we going to do about that?"

The protagonist gaped. Thunder boomed in the distance. "You want me alive?" they sputtered, focusing on the least worrying part of the antagonist's statement. "You've been trying to kill me for years!"

The antagonist rolled their eyes. "First of all, if I wanted you dead I'd have snapped your neck like that. It would be easy; you've smelled like whiskey and exhaustion and old bruises for weeks. Second, well." They smoothed their wet hair over their left ear, missing the top chunk the protagonist had taken out in their first encounter years ago. "We've had our differences in the past but I've never wished you - or [mentor] - dead. You might say you and your kind are a necessary evil."

The protectionist choked out a laugh. "You calling me evil. Now that's funny."

They sidled right, as if circling. The antagonist matched steady parallel, firmly between the protagonist and the exit, and gave a fanged smile. "Hunters keep the more impulsive members of my community in check. You cull the destructive and the foolish, and deter others who do not otherwise see the value of discretion. Which is why I find your recent self-destructive streak in the wake of [mentor]s death so alarming."

"Sounds like not your problem," the protagonist said, giving a desperate look around again for any other exit. Nothing.

"You know you're not the first person to lose someone," said the antagonist, closing in, backing the protagonist towards the alley corner. "You know how many people I've lost?"

"Oh poor you!" The protagonist raised their sword, even as their muscles screamed in protest. "Come over here, I'll take the pain away."

"Is that what you want, one of us to take the pain away?" The antagonist kept pressing in. "You think this is what [mentor] would have wanted? Seeing you get sloppy? Reckless?"

"You keep her name out of your filthy mouth," the protagonist snarled, heat rushing through them, all thoughts of retreat suddenly gone.

The antagonist tilted their head, red eyes lit with a horrible, gut wrenching understanding.

"Oh, [protagonist]," they said with awful compassion. "It wasn't your fault."

The protagonist howled and flung themselves forward in an attack.

The antagonist easily ducked the first two wild swings, leapt in a blur of motion. The protagonist flung themself to the side and took the blow on their shoulder, their silver edged sword ringing out as it skittered across the pavement - and under a dumpster.

The protagonist made a frantic dive after it, only to be caught halfway in a pair of impossibly strong arms. The protagonist screamed and kicked their weight back with all their might. They toppled together, landing ass first on the slick pavement. The antagonist did not let go, even as the protagonist thrashed wildly.

"Let it out," they whispered, tightening their grip. "You need to hurt, I'll hurt you. You need to be held? I'm right here. Stay with me. Please."

The protagonist turned their head into the antagonist's chest and gave themself up to gasping sobs. Cradled against their enemy's chest, they wept uncontrollably until their throat hurt and the rain had slowed to a gentle drizzle.

"Come home with me," the antagonist whispered, tucking the protagonist's head closer, running clawed fingers through their tangled hair. "Just until you're better."

It took a long time to get better.

Now continued here

#my fiction #hero x villain #heroxvillain #protagonist x antagonist #human x vampire #vampire x human #vampires #hunter x vampire #angst #h/c #i guess #100 #300

[runner-owen]

Runner Owen - At Mother's Grave [mlm vampire hunter x vampire]

Knight Hunter Lord Aurum Vim-Calyx pays a visit to his mother. To his displeasure, he is not alone - his sworn enemy, the Scarred Man, emerges from the night for a quick conversation...

Tw: none, ask to tag if needed

[line break]

Long mourning was exhaustion. Stretching the boundaries of the soul for the benefit of society, so the ignorant could titter about how much you cared. As if you didn't, couldn't, care, without all the black. And when the time came, you were expected to put away the grim clothes, trade some of the black for lavenders and reds, and rejoin the world as if you'd never left it. Until another loved one died and you bought the clothes all over again

It was a never ending battle against death and society. Little disgusted Aurum more. What waste, what expense, to tell the world what it already should have known.

And there was no time for people like him. People who did not move on with the moons and the calendar. People who still visited the dead, not for the glory of being seen, but just to talk.

"Hello, mother," he said to the grave.

Aurum sunk to his knees, touched the cold, cold stone. The wet grass wept through his trousers, but he cared not.

"I've missed you," he said.

The wind in the leaves was his only reply.

"I'm sorry for how long it's been," he said. "I am running and run hard by the Knight Hunters. The undead never sleep, it seems. I have worked very hard these past weeks. You'll be glad to know I regret nothing."

He sighed.

"Nothing at all."

He spoke of his family. His good natured step-mother, his sweet, poetry writing sister. He spoke of his father, strong-backed and surrounded by the flowers he loved as much as his wife had. He spoke of his friends at the Knight Hunters. He spoke of his successes. His struggles. His broken engagements. His loves.

"You would have been amazed," he said. "To see what I have accomplished."

As his words slowed, and silence became the norm again, Aurum let himself breathe. In, and out. In, out, in, out.

He waited.

Aurum moved quick as water, standing and turning and drawing his pistol, aiming into the darkness.

"Come to spy on me again, Drinker? Thought I would be as oblivious as the rest to your presence?" Aurum narrowed his eyes. "I am no fool. I know your stench above all others."

From the darkness came a laugh, chilly and familiar.

"Put away your little toys, you know I fear them not."

The shadows shifted and the Scarred Man emerged, his shoes crunching the grass beneath. Under the shadow of his top hat, the claw marked face bore a fanged grin. His clothes were a mockery of mourning garb, his gloved hand clutching the skull end of a cane. He took off the hat, exposing the tumbling blonde waves, and bowed.

"A good evening to you, Lord Aurum. Pardon my intrusion on your private moments with your mother. I mean no harm, no ill, for once."

"What nonsense," Aurum hissed. "You have never been innocent in all the years I've known of your accursed presence."

"You have always defied me." The Scarred Man rested the end of his cane on his hand, ran his fingers over the smiling skull and the glinting jeweled eyes. He smiled as he spoke. "I cannot imagine a life without your solar fire. You burn the ones in your path and ignore those who call out your madness. For that, I admire you."

"If I am mad," Aurum said. "Then it matters not. What matters is humanity. What matters is ending the disease called suffering you spread everywhere you walk."

The Scarred Man shrugged. "Always business with you. Is there anything else you talk about?"

"Not with you!" Aurum snapped.

He tilted his head, amusement shining in his eyes. Aurum blinked, and the vampire stood before him. The Scarred Man brushed the pistol out of his way, and wrapped his hand around Aurum's cheek.

"Aurum, my dear," the Scarred Man said. "You are so cruel." His thumb traced over Aurum's parted lips. "Have you never considered it?"

It took a moment, too long a moment, to gather himself and speak.

"What are you talking about?"

The Scarred Man leaned closer. Breath brushed against Aurum's chilled skin.

"We don't have to fight. You've proven yourself worthy many times over."

Fire ignited inside Aurum's chest. He snarled, jerked his body, golden light surging against his skin, through his coat. The Scarred Man pulled back, hissing as if burned.

The gun had long slipped from his fingers. He did not need it.

"Beast of the night!" Aurum shouted. "You'd proposition me - offer me to join your cursed men of shadow - in front of my mother's remains! You fiend! You bastard! You betrayer of the Goddess your grandmother! How dare -"

It happened so fast. So impossibly fast. The vampire stood before him, expression of hardened stone. And then the arms wrapped around him and incense and copper burned his nose, and the dark red eyes of the vampire stares into his own, and Aurum thought 'ah, here we go again' before it happened.

The kiss could ruin any man. Could silence any thought, could extinguish all your morals. Ah, this again, this again. So many times it happened, and yet Aurum still felt weak, shaking newborn alive and vulnerable, against the Scarred Man's body.

Of course he kissed back. He was only human

He was only a man.

When it ended, Aurum collapsed, the strength long left his body. His lips burned with a fire unlike the pure magic that lived in his veins.

The Scarred Man stood above him, watching his human prey gasp against the headstone. He tilted his hat.

"Consider it a while, my Lord -" he said. "Alone, you are mine. But together?"

He chuckled.

"Together, we will share everything."

With the rustle of his caps, the Scarred Man turned. Into the darkness he went, and the darkness swallowed his form. Once more Aurum found his mind spinning, previous thoughts rent asunder, from the vampire's provocation.

And there was no one to tell or report this to at all, was there? Not with his latest promotion.

Aurum closed his eyes and said a prayer - an apology to his mother, and a plea for the sake of his human soul.

#runner owen series #vampire fiction #vampire aesthetic #vampcore #gothic aesthetic #gothic fantasy #gothic fiction #dark fantasy #human x vampire #vampire hunter oc #vampire x human #vampire hunter x vampire #hunter x vampire #mlm vampire #mlm fiction #mlm writing #mlm fantasy #vampire mlm #written by coffee

[magali-writes]

prompts for a vampire and a vampire hunter falling in love? very romeo and juliet-esque

“What the fuck?”

The vampire rolled their eyes. “A thank you would be nice. Didn’t your mother teach you manners?”

“I only use manners for humans,” spat the hunter.

It earned her an angry look, but no more. The hunter’s fingers itched for a crossbow or a sanctified blade. But even if the vampire had left any of her weapons within arm’s reach, she was too weak to even lift them, let alone use one in a fight against an undead monster.

A monster who she had known for years.

A monster who’d just saved her life, again.

A monster who didn’t look so monstrous right now. She tilted her head and studied them: instead of shooting off a witty retort, they’d just turned away and leaned against the windowsill. In a city this big, light pollution far outweighed any distant shine of starlight, and the glow limned their profile in silver. With their fangs hidden behind their lips, only the faint gleam of light reflecting off their eyes, catlike, belied that the hunter’s companion wasn’t human.

She shouldn’t ask. She shouldn’t do anything that might delay the monster’s departure. And yet— “Why’d you do it?”

For a long moment, they remained still. Too still. Most people wouldn’t consciously notice when someone’s chest didn’t rise and fall as they breathed; the hunter was trained to detect those subtle cues of vampirism, and could not ignore it. She’d had over an hour to calm down from the adrenaline rush of a life-or-death fight and yet her pulse still thundered a warning in her ears.

“Your opinion of my kind is lower than I thought,” the vampire said, “if you truly believe I care nothing for your life.”

You’re not capable of caring for people. But the hunter couldn’t say it.

“I’m a—I hunt your kind. I’ve tried to kill you.”

Now the vampire moved, faster than any human, standing just out of reach. A faint smile curled their lips. “You’d stand back and let me die, then?”

The hunter opened her mouth.

Nothing came out.

The vampire smiled fully, fangs gleaming a threat in her half-lit apartment. “I’ll be seeing you,” they said, and then, faster than her eyes could track, they were gone.

“Thank you,” the hunter whispered to the empty room.

#human x vampire #hunter x vampire #vampires #flash fiction #prompted #magali wrote #mine #do not repost #ok to reblog #my writing #short story

[ithilien-wolf]

Vampyr: A well-earned rest

New work in my Vampyr series!

Jonathan Reid & Geoffrey McCullum.

Summary: Jonathan has just faced a vulkod in the sewers, and is hardly victorious. With his senses clouded due to his weakness, he manages to crawl outside until someone finds him. Unfortunately for him, it is not a friend, but the Priwen Guard and its captain.

Give it a try and leave comments if you like. <3

#jonathan reid x geoffrey mccullum #jonathan reid #geoffrey mccullum #vampyr game #vampyr fanfiction #vampires #hunter x vampire #ao3 fanfic #fanfiction #english

[ferrisulichsdayoff]

eat my heart out

Cal never asked what had become of Juliette Fairmont.

Juliette never asked what had become of Calliope Burns.

Ten years pass, and they both move on with their lives after the events of Savannah and that night where Cal chased tail lights and Juliette didn't stop. Ten years pass before they are both dragged back to Savannah for the same reason.

~/~

'Someone’s going around killing Legacies, and you’re being sent to Savannah to find out who.’

~/~

Fandom: First Kill (TV)

Pairing: Calliope Burns/Juliette Fairmont

Rating/Warning: M / Graphic Depictions Of Violence

Words: In Progress

https://archiveofourown.org/works/39693024/chapters/99370563

#first kill #calliope burns #juliette fairmont #ao3 #fanfiction #fanfic #hunter x vampire #cal x jules #enemies to lovers

[dirtywrestling]

Hunted - Triple H (18+)

Commission: @thesimonkshow

Pairing: Hunter!Triple H x Vampire!Simon

Summary: Being a vampire had it’s pros and cons. Simon now had a target on his back for being what he is. A hunter was after him.

Warnings: 18+, Blood, Riding, Cussing, Smut, Oral, Blood Play, Mentions of Simon x Roman Reigns, Mentions of Simon x Damian Priest, Minors DNI

Word Count: 5,302

Follow My Backup Blog!: @dirtywresling102

After being punished by Roman a few months ago, I now know my place in the group. I’ve fed on the human race less and less unless there was a crime happening in front of me. That’s when I stepped in and had a quick snack on the person causing the crime. Damien still wagged his finger at me for doing so. I couldn’t sit back and relax when a woman in a alleyway was about to get raped.

I used my supernatural powers for good too. I cleaned up the cities of crime and I donated blood to organizations that really need it. Roman notified me that our blood can heal people so whatever diseases they had, one small dose of our blood cured them. I felt myself being a better person as the days went on.

Stretching, I climbed out of bed and went towards my closet, pulling out fresh clothes for the day. Changing into some jeans and a dark shirt, I tidy up my hair and went downstairs to see everyone around the kitchen table mumbling to themselves.

“Morning everyone.” I chirped.

“It’s nearly seven at night.” Damien pointed out.

Looking up at the clock it was 6:52 pm. Shrugging I spoke; “You know I don’t like mornings.” The brightness of the sun still gave me headaches, even though I had my daylight ring on my finger to give me the ability to walk during the day with the humans.

I made my way to the fridge, opening the door and snagging a blood bag. “We’re getting low on blood bags.” I pointed out.  Ripping the top open I wrapped my lips around the plastic and suckled down the thick cool goo. Pulling it away I licked my lips. “Anyone want to go to the bar with me? Jimmy, Jay?” I questioned the twins who looked down, avoiding my eye contact. I arched my eyebrow at their behavior. “Damian?” I asked him.

“We think it’s best to lie low for a few weeks, Simon.” Roman spoke.

“Lie low? What do you mean?” I questioned, slowly putting the bag back to my lips and suckling the last of the blood.

“Simon, he means we need to act more cautiously now. Something has come up.” Damien butted in.

“Like what?” I asked, tossing the empty blood bag into the trash can.

“There’s a predator after us right now, Simon.” Roman’s gruff voice explained.

“Something is after us?Us?” I laughed at them for being so scared and for what? “We’re vampires.”

“Do you remember Joe, down the street?” Roman questioned.

“Yeah, the guy that gets our blood bags?” I furrowed my eyebrows.

“He’s dead.” Roman grumbled.

“Dead how?”

“Dead, Simon! He’s dead!” Roman barked. “Now it’s either you stay low and don’t cause trouble or end up like him!”

“What happened to him?” My eyebrows knitted together, what could have killed him?

“A hunter.” Roman looked towards me. “Wooden stake through the heart.”

I laughed out loud at Roman. “A hunter?” I questioned, sure I’ve heard them talk about hunters coming after vampires but it’s been so long since they mentioned one and not to mention, I’ve never met one.

“Yes, we thought we were clear of them but someone went a little too snack crazy a few months back and they picked up on our trail.” Roman glared at me.

“That was months ago! I haven’t done anything!” I exclaimed.

“You’re going to get us killed because of him!” Jay yelled at Roman, pointing a finger at me. “He’s going to get us killed! All of us!”

“Enough!” Roman snapped at Jay as I glared at the twin brother.

“Simon, you’re not going to the bar. No one is going anywhere. If this doesn’t die down then we’re going to have to move, again.” Roman huffed.

“What about the blood bags? We’re about out!” I frowned.

“Damian and I will figure that out but in the meantime no one is going anywhere, we’re going to keep our heads down low.” Roman demanded.

“What am I supposed to do? This place is boring.” I whined.

“Simon, you joined this group to be protected. You WILL listen to me!” Roman puffed out his chest, squaring his shoulders back. I glared at the larger man covered in tattoos, looking past him to see the twins and Damien glaring at me too. “Give me your daylight ring.” Roman’s large hand held out.

“What? No!” I pulled my hand close to my chest.

“You’ll get it back when we know you won’t do anything stupid. Now give it to me or else.” Roman growled.

Frowning, I grabbed the thick ring and pulled it off my finger, throwing it hard into Roman’s chest. Passing him I purposely shoved my shoulder into his larger one.

“He’s acting up again.” Jimmy said once I was out of the room.

“He’s just not taking the news well.” Damien explained. “He’ll understand everything we do is to keep us safe.”

“I’ll punish him again to get him to understand, if I have to.” It wasn’t a threat Roman spoke, it was a promise.

As the hours passed, I laid in my bed scrolling through my phone on social media. I soon grew bored instantly and tossed my phone beside me. Sitting up I looked around my room. It was nice and tidy, nothing needed to be clean. My eyes gazed over to my gaming system that was connected to the large flat screen pinned to the wall. Thinking about playing some games I quickly changed my mind, not in the mood to cuss and make younger players cry over my mean words.

Huffing I collapsed in the bed once more, rolling over. My eyes glued to the curtain, knowing the sun was no longer in the sky and was replaced by the moon and darkness. I sat up in bed once more, looking over at my closed door. Biting my lip as I thought. If I snuck out for a few hours how would they know? 

Tossing the large covers off of my body I went over to my door, opening it slightly to see if I could hear anything. Listening closely, the guys were watching a movie. Shutting my door softly, I locked it. Sliding on my boots I grabbed my phone and made my way towards the window. Sliding the curtain over I opened up the large window. Looking behind me one last time to make sure no one was coming I then jumped out the window and landed safely on the ground.

I didn’t even know how many hours had passed, I was too busy having fun to notice. The music in the club was loud, I was at the bar nearly having a stranger in my lap. The man’s heart was pumping from adrenaline, nervousness and sexual tension. My mouth watered, wanting a taste of him but my cock also throbbed knowing what I made this man feel.

“Do you want to take this out back?” I questioned him as he grinds himself upon me.

“I thought you’d never ask.” He moaned.

Smirking, I finished the rest of my alcohol, grabbing him by the hand and headed towards the nearest exit. Stopping for a split second on the busy dance floor I couldn’t help but to look around, getting a feeling as if someone was watching me. As I looked left and right multiple times the stranger latched onto me from behind. “Come on, weren’t you taking me somewhere?” He purred against my ear over the loud music but I heard him perfectly.

“Uh, yeah. Yeah I am.” Ignoring the suspicious feeling I continued to take the stranger towards the exit. Pushing the door open we walked out into the back alleyway of the club. The music and laughter of people muffled as the door shut.

“Fuck.” The male whined softly as I pinned him against the brick wall, my lips against his. “I can’t believe I’m really doing this.” He whispered more so to himself than out loud.

“Trust me, it’s about to get better.” My lips trailed against his neck, my fangs slowly coming out. I didn’t care about following the rules, not right now when there weren’t any blood bags back at home, we’re supposed to lay low due to this hunter and not hunt? I wasn’t going to let Roman ruin my fun time.

Sure, this handsome stranger wasn’t a criminal to my knowledge but he must have done something in the past and that was good enough for me to sink my teeth in and have a taste.

As I suckled and kissed his neck my fangs gazed across his skin a little too roughly. “Ouch, wait, stop.” The man complained. “Hey, you’re hurting me!” His hands came flying to my chest to push me away but I gripped at his wrist and slammed them above his head, using my supernatural strength. “Please, stop!” He cried out in pain as my watering mouth opened to finally take a bite.

“I think he said step the fuck away.” A voice boomed, echoing throughout the alley. Pulling myself away from the boy pinned up against the wall I straightened my back, thinking with an angry voice like that it was Roman. Letting go of the smaller male I turned, surprised to see a larger muscular man with dirty blonde hair resting over his shoulders, leather jacket and jeans.

The stranger that was pinned up against the wall bolted out of the alleyway, hooking a quick right out of site. “We’re just having fun.” I huffed with an eye roll.

“Didn’t seem like to me he was enjoying it.” The new stranger growled.

“So what, are you like a superhero or something, Batman?” I teased him with a taunting laugh.

“Yeah, something like that.” He grunted. In a blink of an eye he pulled out from his holster a small crossbow, pointing it at me and launching a wooden stake through my shoulder.

Holding my shoulder I cried out loud in surprise, but it was still painful as the wooden stake punctured through my shoulder. I stumbled backwards, falling on my ass as I didn’t have enough strength since he let my dinner run out of the alley.

“Funny, I never miss.”  His boots crushed against the gravel as he stalked towards me.

“Hey man, you got the wrong guy.” I lied, scooting away from him. The gravely alleyway scratching up my back as I kept scooting away.

“I always get my man, well monster.” He grabbed another stake loading it into the crossbow.

I tried to get up on my feet to run away but with barely any blood in my system I felt light headed. I should have listened to Roman and stayed in the house.

Two large figures were soon in front of me, standing tall. “Back off Hunter.” A voice I recognized echoed throughout the alley.

Damien and Roman held their ground in front of the man named Hunter. “We haven’t done anything wrong as of late.” Roman spoke.

“Right, like I just didn’t catch your friend trying to feed on one of the innocent.”

“I’ll take care of him later.” Roman looked over his shoulder, his dark eyes burning into me.

“You’re lucky I didn’t come prepared.” With that Hunter backed away, leaving the alley.

Roman breathed out a heavy sigh while Damien rushed to my side. “Roman said to stay inside, you fucking idiot.” Damien’s voice was low. “This is what he was talking about.”

Not saying anything I grunted as Damien helped me onto my feet and ripped the stake out of my shoulder making me screech.

“Ouch!” I barked. “You could have warned me!” I placed my hand upon my wound as it slowly healed.

“Shut up.” Damien pulled out a blood bag and handed it to me. “Eat so you can heal faster.”

Taking the blood bag from him I ripped it open with my teeth and suckled it down even faster than the first one.

It was silent. The only thing that was playing was the music in the club. “Look, Ro I’m sorry.” Calling Roman by his nickname, hoping he’d go easy on me.

Roman clenched his fists, quickly turning towards me. “When we get home I want you in my den immediately.” He demanded and with that he was gone in a flash.

“You really pissed him off.” Damien said.

Damien was correct. I certainly did piss off Roman for putting everyone in the group in more danger than before. His plan was for us to lie low until the hunter left the city then when the close was clear go back to our usual lives. I fucked that up when they had to save me now the hunter knew there was more vampires in the city.

Everyone had a job to do, the twins went out and hit the blood banks for blood bags so we could still be out of the hunters radar, Damien was protector of the house, on guard every hour of the day making sure everything was safe. As for me, I was bent over Roman’s desk in his den taking my punishment. One thousand spankings every hour, being his cock warmer when he had work or his fuck toy if he was in the mood.

After my weeks worth of punishments from Roman I stayed in my room most of the time, avoiding the other boys. The only time I left my room was to get a few blood bags to end my hunger and then back to my dark bedroom. Even after my punishment I still didn’t receive my daylight ring back. Roman still thought I needed to learn my lesson and most likely wouldn’t be getting it back until this whole thing blew over.

As my body healed from Roman’s punishment I thought to myself on how to end this whole lock up, being on high alert in the situation we had with Hunter. This man wasn’t something to play around with so I knew I needed to take this seriously.

Grunting softly I climbed out of bed and headed to the restroom that was connected to my bedroom. Starting up the shower I turned it to the temperature I wanted it to be at and undressed myself. Turning to look in the mirror I examined my body. The wooden stake wound that punctured through me earlier this week was fully healed. Teeth marks and handprints lingered all over my body all from Roman. Turning my shoulder to get a look at my back, scratches were along my back along with bruises on my waist from his death grip as he pounded into me.

Roman demanded me not to heal myself after my punishment until he said so. Obeying him, the marks remain on my body. As the steam fogged the mirror, I turned away from my reflection and got into the shower, hissing as warm water stung my wounds. Grunting softly as I looked down at my hard cock, while Roman punished me I didn’t get the sweet release I was hoping to get at the end of my punishment.

Roman thought I had enough and sent me on my way, horny and cranky. Huffing loudly to myself as I grew frustrated with this hard-on between my legs, I quickly finished up my shower and exited before I went against Roman’s demands and jerk myself off.

Drying myself, I styled my hair and looked through my closet, getting dress pants and a white button up shirt. I normally never wore white due to how much of a messy eater I was but this was a special occasion.

Grabbing my phone and any other accessories I went to my door and locked it before heading to my window and jumping out of it once more as if I was a grounded teenager. Once my feet hit the ground I looked back up at my room and hoped to myself that my plan worked.

After looking through a few bars and compulsing some people to give me some information I landed at a bar in the outskirts of town. Looking at the lit sign of the bar’s name. “Titty Twister.” I read out loud. “Classy.” Looking around the area, motorcycles were lined up outside of the bar. Approaching the bar, I pushed the doors open as I made my way in.

Looking around the bar everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at me. I raised my eyebrows only to assume they didn’t take too kindly to outsiders. My eyes skimmed along the unfamiliar faces until they settled upon a man hunched over the bar wearing a leather jacket. I made my way towards the bar and sat beside him. “Whisky please.” I waved at the bartender who nodded and poured me a glass.

“Does your master know you’re out?” Hunter took a swig of his liquor in the clear glass.

“He’s not my master, he’s my leader. There’s a difference.”

“Those marks on your neck say otherwise.” Hunter lip twitched into a smirk as he mentioned the dark hickies on my neck.

“I might have gotten punished for my foolish acts, yes.”

“And this isn’t another one of your foolish acts?” Hunter arched his eyebrow towards me. Hinting to me that it was pretty stupid of myself to come to him, alone.

While Hunter and I talked it seemed as if everyone else in the bar started to pick up their conversation as well. “I just wanted to talk, try to make things right.” I took a seat next to him.

“Right in my eyes or right in Roman’s eyes?” Hunter smirked.

Rolling my eyes I scuffed. “Will you forget about Roman for one second? Yes, okay? I want to make everything right in everyone’s eyes. I shouldn’t have gone after that civilian at the bar the other night and I’m sorry but that’s not how we do things around here. I got caught up in my emotions, I let that happen a lot nowadays.” I mumbled the last part to myself.

“Seems like you vampires are all caught up in your emotions.”

“Yes, our power does heighten our emotions and senses.” I corrected him, trying not to make it seem like we’re all dramatic school girls.

“Drama queens.” Hunter shot back as he finished his drink.

The bartender came by, dropping off my drink and refilling Hunter’s. “Call us what you want, I’m here to make peace.”

“Go on.” Hunter arched his eyebrow, intrigued.

“I think it might be best if we go somewhere else and talk.” I swirled my drink in my glass before taking a sip.

Hunter looked around the area of innocent bikers and other members of the bar drinking and laughing. “Fine. I have a room at the motel across the street.”

“Perfect.” I finished my drink, placing a few bills on the counter and stood up. Hunter and I both exited out of the bar and made our way across the street to the motel. 

As Hunter entered first I followed behind shutting the door. “Oh, cozy.” I said sarcastically to see all the pin maps hanging up on the wall. Some stains on the carpet from god knows what and a dingy little kitchen in the corner.

“I have a job to do, I work all the time. What do you expect?” Hunter went towards the fridge and pulled out a beer.

“What if I told you, you could stop working all the time?” I took a seat at the small table.

“A hunter stopped working?” Hunter laughed, looking over at me. “You’re serious. You want me to stop?”

“It’s really the only way to bring peace.”

“Or you can stop sucking blood and killing people.”

“It’s who we are!” I exclaimed. “We’d die if we didn’t feed. I told you we only feed upon the bad people, criminals.” I tried to remind him. “And animals, and I don’t even like to do that!”

The silence in the air was thick. “So what do you expect me to do? Retire? Not really what a hunter does.”

“Go pick up a hobby or whatever you humans do nowadays.”

“It’s not that easy, Simon.” Hunter looked at me. “I’ve been doing this for twenty plus years, I just can’t get up and walk away.”

“You can start a new life.” I suggested, leaning back in the chair.

“New life?” Hunter opened the beer bottle and tossed the cap into the trash.

“Start fresh, no hunting monsters, hell, you can still hunt them and be even better at it.” I looked at my nails nonchalantly.

Hunter stared at me while I looked over at him. “You’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.” He trailed off.

“Wouldn’t be so bad, blood actually tastes good.” I stood up from my seat. Hunter quickly took a step back. “Come on. I can hear your heart thumping from here, you want it. It excites you.” I licked my lips.

“Go to hell.” Hunter placed his beer bottle on the table and walked past me to use the restroom.

“You’d think it’d be like hell, but it’s actually nice.” I eyed his beer.

“You keep telling yourself that.” Hunter said in the bathroom, I heard him unzip his fly. I brought my wrist to my lips, biting my skin to draw blood. The red liquid oozed out of the puncture wound. Grabbing his bottle I let the liquid flow into it.

My blood swirled around the brown liquid, luckily the bottle was too dark to notice the discoloring. I quickly placed the bottle back to where it was as the toilet flushed. I healed myself and wiped the blood off on my dark pants.

“You’re still here?” Hunter grunted, walking back to his seat, grabbing his beer.

“Not leaving until we figure something out.” I hummed, eyeing his beer bottle as he brought it up to his lips. Watching him take a large swallow of the alcohol.

After Hunter swallowed the liquid he quickly pulled the bottle away from his mouth and stared at it then back at me, his face scrunched up from the different taste. “What the hell did you put in my drink?”

A loud gasp erupted throughout the room. I looked towards the bed where I laid Hunter down after killing him and placed him on a more comfortable surface while he transformed. “He’s awake!” I smiled at him.

“What the fuck, you did not fucking turn me.” He patted himself over panting, sweat rolled off his forehead.

“You’re fine. You’ll get used to it.” I noticed he squinted at the lamp that was on beside the bed.

“You fucking bastard.” Hunter snarled, his hand covering his sensitive eyes.

“Oh stop.” Standing up from the chair that was facing him I stalked towards him. “You wanted it, don’t deny it. I can tell how the hunter’s life was ruining you, running you down.”

Hunter stayed silent, looking away from me as I climbed onto the bed, gripping his chin and forcing him to look at me. “I get it, you’re mad, upset, hungry and even relieved. After tonight everything is going to be ten times easier for you.” I promised. Hunter’s eyes finally met with mine and he nodded slowly. “Good, I’m glad you’re seeing it in my eyes.” I whispered. Leaning forward I pressed my lips against his soft ones. Hunter was hesitant at the contact but slowly melted upon my touch.

“Good boy.” I whispered against his mouth. My tongue slipped across his bottom lip and dipped into his mouth making us both moan. Hunter wrapped his arms around my neck and pulled me closer to him. “Easy.” I laughed, pulling away from him. “Let’s have some fun then after we’ll get you something to eat.”

“Not the innocent.” Hunter furrowed his brows, upset that I would even mention getting a bite to eat out of someone’s neck.

“Calm down, I mean a blood bag. Hunter, I promise you we don’t feed upon the innocence I was just in my emotions when you caught me.” I swore. Hunter’s expression softens with a nod.

We both undressed each other, our clothing scattered all over the floor until we were both naked. Trailing kisses down Hunter’s body I stopped in front of his member, looking up at him I saw him breathing heavily. “Calm down, you’ll love it.” I smirked, wrapping my lips around his cock Hunter gasped loudly. The smirk never left my lips as I got the hottest reactions out of Hunter.

I bobbed my head up and down on his shaft, forcing his thickness to go further down my throat even if it choked me. “Fuck, Simon.” Hunter tilted his head back with a moan leaving his throat. “Just like that, don’t stop.” He begged.

Saliva and pre-come come drooled out of my mouth and dripped down onto Hunter’s cock as I kept sucking him off. Slurping sounds formed throughout the room as I sucked him off faster while hollowing my cheeks. My right hand caressed his sac, massaging softly. Hunter’s hips bucked into my mouth, his tip inched its way further down my throat. Humming around his dick, I kept up with the same pace, feeling his shaft twitch in my mouth.

“You’re going to make me come, keep going.” Hunter whimpered, the sensation feeling of my lips wrapped around his cock was ten times more sensitive and erotic than the time he had sex as a human. Feeling his fat cock throb in my throat one last time, I pulled off of him with a ‘pop’ sound. Hunter snapped his head up, eyebrows knitted. “What the fuck?” He panted. “Why’d you stop?”

“As much as I want your warm come shooting down my throat I want it somewhere else.” I bit my lip with a smirk rising. Swiping my tongue around my lips, I collected the extra pre-come and saliva. Crawling myself towards Hunter, I straddled myself on his waist. His erection still standing tall, red and throbbing for more attention. Hunter’s eyes never left me, watching my every move.

“Relax.” I whispered, sensing he was nervous, I massaged his chest. Bringing my wrist to my mouth, I cut open my skin. Blood pooled out from my open wound, collecting the red ooze in my other hand I smeared it along Hunter’s shaft who buckled into my touch.

Healing my wound so no more blood poured out I stroked his bloody cock a few more times, then raised myself up and settled upon his cock. Sighing softly as his tip entered me, I slowly sunk myself onto him.

“Fuck, Simon you’re so tight.” Hunter’s hands flew to my waist, gripping it tightly. “Feel so good wrapped around my cock.”

“Hmm, you feel good in me.” I countered back, wiggling my waist against him, trying to force his fat cock deeper. My hard cock rested upon my lower stomach, bouncing each time I moved. I moaned loudly as Hunter’s cock was hitting all the right places.

My hand was wrapped around my cock, slowly stroking to the rhythm. Slowly riding myself on Hunter, his cock entered and exited out of my tight ring. “Faster, please, faster.” Hunter begged, his nails digging deep into my flesh.

“So needy.” I teased, picking up the pace. Skin against skin echoed in the room along with the bed creaking underneath up from the fast movements I made.

“Fuck, that’s it. Keep going, oh god, Simon.” Hunter moaned, drilling his hips upwards while I slammed down onto him.

“Yes, fuck me, yes.” I moaned, arching my back and stroking myself even faster than before. I felt bad for the people next door trying to sleep but worrying about them instantly left my mind as Hunter’s hand landed on my tender ass making me yelp loudly. It was still sore from Roman’s punishment earlier this week.

Hunter’s hand slapped my sensitive ass a few more times. “Such a whore for my cock.” Hunter pumped his cock faster into my drenched hole as I nearly collapsed on him, too fucked and over sensitive to keep myself up right. “Keep riding, I didn’t tell you to stop.” Hunter growled.

My right hand was still wrapped around my cock as my left hand settled upon Hunter’s shoulder to steady me on his waist. Rocking my hips back and forth on his cock, moaning loudly as his tip hit my g-spot.

“Fuck, I’m going to come inside this ass so deep.” Hunter gripped my cheeks, spreading them slightly. “Wish I can see this pretty hole get fucked.”

A loud moan escaped my lips. “Would you like that?” Hunter purred. “Next time we should record how you take my cock so well.”

“I’m going to come.” I grinded myself faster against Hunter. My hard cock twitched in my hand as I kept stroking myself. Rubbing the pad of my thumb over my tip, collecting precome down my cock, smearing it.

“That’s it, come, come all over yourself you slut.” Hunter moaned, fucking himself up into me over and over. My release squirted all over my stomach, hands and a little on Hunter as his cock kept fucking into my sweet spot. Stars blurred my vision as my cock jolted slightly from my orgasm, getting extra ropes of come out.

“Fuck, don’t stop riding me, keep going.” Hunter’s voice was a deep growl, nothing like I heard before. My tired fucked out body lazily rolled my hips to get Hunter to climax. “You want it don’t you? Want me hot come deep in your ass, work for it!” Another harsh slap against my ass made me slam down on Hunter’s cock over and over again. “Fuck, I’m coming, I’m coming baby. Fuck yes, Simon take my come.” Hunter roared, gripping my cheeks once again he spread them and forced his cock upwards, burying his load deep in my walls.

A soft moan left my lips as I felt Hunter’s twitching cock explode inside of me. His hot juices overflowing in my ass, the only thing making it stay in place was his cock being stuffed in me. “Oh fuck, Hunter.” I moaned, hiding my face in the crook of his neck.

“Fuck, Simon.” Hunter panted, sweat all over our bodies. “I guess it really was worth it.” He confessed.

“Told you.” I smirked knowing I got him to agree it wasn’t all bad being a vampire. I nearly jumped off his cock to hear the door burst open. Damien and Roman entered, anger washed over their faces only to be switched out with confusion. There was a long silence in the room.

“Looks like Simon is a little slut, craving for cock.” Damien tsked as he saw me worn out and still straddling Hunter’s cock deep in my ass.

Roman’s face was hard to read as he stood there in the doorway. He finally moved himself inside, shutting the door and stripping himself from his shirt. “Well, show Hunter the best perks of being a vampire, energy for days. Keep riding.” Roman demanded as he rubbed himself through his jeans and Damien next to him undressing.

Swallowing, I knew I just got myself either in a punishment or the best orgy of all time.

#Dirty Wrestling #wrestling blog #wrestling smut blog #wrestling fanfic #Triple H #Hunter x Vampire #Vampire #wrestling smut #supernatural #wrestling #18+ blog #triple H smut #damien priest #Midnight Surprises Series #Series #triple h fanfic #roman reigns #Damien Priest #triple h oneshot #wwe oneshot #wrestling commission

[thatfanficgurl]

For all you Twilight Lovers, Read Blood Moon. Book 2 of the Moonlight 🌙 Saga

#fanfiction #ADecentRead #twilight #twilight fanfiction #Becca Swan x Edward #hunter x vampire

[sleepy-mocha]

After years, I have returned to tumblr ✨ Here's my vampire hunter x vampire girlies I'm planning a webcomic on right now! 🧛‍♀️💕🗡

#vampire #sapphic #wlw #lesbian pride #vampire huntress #vampire hunter #vampire hunter x vampire #my art #comic #webcomic

[misstycloud]

Imagine yandere vampire hunter finding out he married one of the creatures he vowed to destroy. The very monster he dedicated his entire life to kill.

“…no..i-it can’t be..” his voice was barely a whisper, but you heard it loud and clear as if he was right next to you.

You stood still in the darkness, your face was a mask of indifference. If you hadn’t been blinking he would have mistook you for a statue. It appeared you’d been careless and let yourself be seen- by him no less. You could still feel the warmth of the blood dripping down you chin; a curtain of red fell down the front of your dress and stained it.

“Please tell me this isn’t real..” your husband let his eyes wander to the soon-lifeless body laying not far away. Small puffs of air was seen coming for the person, indicating they were not yet dead. The disgusting sound of gurgling in one’s own blood sent a shiver down his spine. His eyes met yours, searching for any sort of confirmation that everything was indeed a figment of his imagination.

“It is, I’m afraid.” You said.

He let out a devestatd choke, muttering ‘no’ over and over while shaking his head, clearly in denial.

You reminded yourself not to show any emotion and stepped forward. “I will not lie to you and therefor I will utter the clear truth in front of you. I am a vampire.”

“No, no you’re not.” He refused to believe it. If it had been his friend; he would prioritise duty before friendship. If it was his brother; he would do the same. Even if it was his own parents; he would die before letting insensible things such as emotions to come in the way of doing what is right. But this was different. It was you. It can’t be you. It could never be you.

But it was. Clearly. The evidence- the body- was right in front of him; unblinking and unmoving.

“You cannot look away from what is in front of you-“

“Stop saying that!” He suddenly shouted, surprising you with the sudden change in tone. “You can’t be one of….them.” He expressed in great repulsion.

Despite knowing how evil your kind is, you still though of yourself as quite good- well, as good as you can be when you’re a blood sucking, murderous creature of the night. So your husbands disdain awoke some sort of defensiveness in you.

“Well I am. And I have been for a while now.”

He seemed to think for a moment. Then he asked, “how long? How long have you been a…a vampire?” He furrowed his brow at the end, not believing he’d connect ‘you’ and the word ‘vampire’ in his life.

“36 years. Not as long as some others, but it should still count as something.”

“Oh god..”

It meant that you were one since the start- no before- your marriage. Was he truly that blind? Had love taken such hold of him that he could no longer do his job properly?

How many vampires had he killed during you union? All that while simultaneously being wed to one himself. While loving one, caring for one and even making passionate love to one. It was like some fucked-up punishment tailor-made for him.

He knew what he had to do.

The first tear fell down his cheek, betraying his stern expression and showcasing his endless sorrow. “You are evil,” he raised his crossbow, “and now you have to be judged for your crimes.” How ironic of him to talk about committing crimes of slaughter as if he wasn’t doing exactly the same. He wasn’t stupid; not all immortals were pure darkness, it wasn’t that simple. They do what they have to in order to survive. Only some killed more than they had to. Still, it didn’t change the fact that they all need to be destroyed.

Your eyes widened when he pointed the weapon straight at you. You expected this. Of course he would kill you. However, a part of you could not stop from hoping he wouldn’t think of you as a monster. That perhaps you’d finally find somewhere you can call home and be accepted for what you are. It was a naive dream. Weren’t you his wife before you were a monster? Apparently not, because an arrow shot at you at incredible speed. It hit you in the arm and you cried out in pain.

While you had physical advantages, it doesn’t mean you are immune to pain.

Ripping it out, you studied the black liquid staining it. Your husband swore and immediately prepared to launch another. You felt your fangs grow in length and you hissed at him. Throwing yourself at him the two of you rolled around on the floor, each trying to restrain the other. You managed to get ahold of his crossbow and threw it away form his reach.

Your husband quickly dug into his pockets to grab a dagger, and tried to stab you. Luckily you stopped him in time, fighting him with your vampiric strength. You had to give it to him, he was surprisingly strong for a human. Despite you having supernatural gifts, he was definitely a match and you had a hard time holding you down. If it was any other situation you would have been impressed and rather seduced by his sheer strength, unfortunately this was not a good situation for you.

You leaned down, planning to bite him, but his fast reflexes let him use his free arm to keep you at a distance. He was now on the floor with you straddling him and trying with all your might to end his life.

Your husband knocked your heads together which was the distraction he needed to kick you off of him. You clenched you forehead in pain and backed away. But there was no more time to dwell on that pain, because it was minor compared to what you felt next. Agony was in your side, accompanied by the dagger you had previously defended yourself against.

Your lover was close. Enough for you to feel his breath, and enough for you to see tears running down his regretful face.

“Why was it you?”

Whether he referred to you being a vampire or you being the one he married, you did not know. It hardly mattered anyway.

In a way, you did love your husband. It was probably not in the normal spousal way but it was there. Maybe if you weren’t a blood-sucker you two would have been truly happy together. Too bad fate had other plans. Even though it was true that you were probably evil, you wanted to live. And despite the one threatening your existence was none other than the man who’d show a you devotion and love you though t you’d never find again, this was not where you wanted it to end.

With a shriek, you used all your power to push him as hard as you could. He flew backwards into the wall. You supposed he’d fainted from the force since he wasn’t making any move to get up. You clutched your side and groaned. You had to get out of there; somewhere safe.

You stumbled to the window and put your foot on the ledge. The dagger he’d stabbed you with must be silver, otherwise it wouldn’t have made as much damage. The wound in your side burned and sizzled with pain. You had no idea if your body would be able to fully heal you in time for when you need blood again- or even at all.

“Ugh….”

You heard a cough from behind you. It was your dearest. He must be sturdier than he looks to have woken up so quickly. He had rolled over to lay on his stomach and had his arms pathetically stretched in your direction.

“D-don’t go.”

You scoffed at his audacity. “What, so you can finally finish me off?”

He whimpered, “ N-no, I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have done that- why did I do that?” The last part appeared to be a criticism on himself. Nevertheless he continued, “please, I won’t do it again. I was wrong, you’re not evil I know that, I don’t know why I said that. I’m so sorry, please..”

A frown adorned your face. “It’s okay. I’m not evil, but I know I’m far from good- I’m not that delusional.” Then you turned back to the view of the outside world.

“Wait, no-“

“I have to go. I really mean it when I say this, ‘thank you for all these years together, they have been the happiest days I am now able to remember’.

“My love, don’t-“

You ignored his pleas as you jumped from the window. You landed in the dirt outside. You looked back at the house which you’d just escaped from and as you prepared to run off to another town and build up a new life (until you’d eventually have to run again) you listened to the scream of the man who’d been your husband for six years.

What was he screaming? What else if not your name.

-

#oc #male yandere #obsessed #yandere oc #possesive #misstycloud oc #yandere husband #vampire hunter husband #vampire reader #wife reader #vampire wife reader #yandere x reader #toxic #yandere husband x wife reader #yandere oc x reader #yandere imagine #fantasy #yandere human x vampire reader

[bet-on-me-13]

Bruce Wayne beats the shit out of a Vampire!!! Not Clickbait!!!

SO, after Danny is adopted by the Batfam and they accept his Halfa Status, he gives them all their own special Fenton Deflector Badges that will prevent them from being overshadowed and lets them touch ghosts even while intangible

Of course Vlad finds out that his little Badger got adopted by an entirely separate Billionaire and wants to get revenge.

So one day, while Bruce is walking down the street, Vlad tries to overshadow him. He is hoping that he will be able to destroy Bruce’s public reputation and then sell himself Wayne Enterprises, making himself the richest man in the world and making Danny run to him instead.

What actually happens in that Vlad collides face first with Bruce’s back and is knocked to the ground. Bruce turns around, recognizes Vlad, and starts beating the everloving crap out of him.

And across the street, some people are recording it. It looks like a Looney Toons Sequence, with Bruce and Vlad fighting with a bench concealing their view, Vlad and Bruce appearing above a bench, with Vlad holding bruce in a chokehold before Bruce kicks him in the *redacted* and they both fall out of view again,  Vlad trying to crawl away before Bruce drags him back behind the bench, Bruce standing up just in view above the bench, and then proceeding to deliver an Elbow Drop. Basically every comedic fight element you can think of.

The Video gets posted to Youtube and goes Viral within the day.

Danny has a GIF of Vlad trying to crawl away and getting dragged back as his Screensaver. The GIF if him getting kicked in the *redacted* is his Background.

#dp x dc #dpxdc #dc x dp #dcxdp #danny phantom #danny fenton #dc #dcu #bat family #batfam #danny is adopted by the bat family #vlad is a creep #bruce beats the shit out of vlad #it's really funny #bruce wayne is a local legend now #bruce wayne beats up a vampire #Everybody is convinced Bruce is a Vampire Hunter #They are concerned for Batman's sake #People think Batman is a Vampire #Maybe that's why Batman never tries to save Bruce Wayne's life? #Cause if he dies he won't get hunted? #Batman is a Vampire conspiracy theories #Wes is all over that one #he knows the truth #but at this point it's just funnier to make fake conspiracies

[yourheartonfire]

A continuation of this sad baby hunter and tired monster.

CW: extremely unhealthy usage of alcohol as a coping mechanism

"It will help to think of yourself as a resource - a limited asset that has to be carefully spent," Mentor had said patiently, patching the protagonist up after that first hasty, ill-advised battle with the antagonist. "If you fail to care for your sword, to keep the edge sharp and the metal oiled, it will fail you. If you fail to care for yourself, if you waste your energy on hopeless battles, your body and your mind will fail you. Be strategic with your strength. There are a lot more of them than there are of us." 

.

The rules of the antagonist's house were simple. The protagonist would complete a task, and the antagonist would provide a bottle of some liquor that tasted like fire and made the pain stop. Drink this pitcher of water - get a bottle. Eat this bowl of soup (chicken noodle, from a can) - bottle. Shower and dress, drink more water, eat more soup - bottle. Focused on those magical bottles, the protagonist obeyed.

It was days, maybe a week later, when the protagonist reached for a bottle - and the thought of more alcohol made their head hurt worse than the dull ache in their chest.

Cradling the stoppered bottle, the protagonist rolled onto their back to stare at the ceiling and wait for it to stop spinning. Hours later they gave up on that. But they heaved themselves up anyway, tossed the bottle into the pillows of the overstuffed settee, and shuffled off to the en suite unprompted.

When the antagonist entered with supper tray in hand, they pulled up short to find the protagonist sat up on the settee, dressed and reading one of the books from the shelves.

"I'll take my sword now, please," the protagonist said, not looking up from their reading.

The antagonist took a breath and slid the tray safely out of the way, their talons clicking against the lacquer. "Hello, [antagonist], how are you, thank you for pulling me out of my death spiral at great risk to your reputation and position."

The protagonist scoffed. "You're the ruler of the monsters, you can do whatever you want."

The antagonist snorted. "If that's how you think politics works, you're even more of a child than I feared."

The antagonist stalked forward and the protagonist bolted to their feet. Not that they'd be able to do much without steel and silver in their hand. Still, they hadn't been raised to show weakness. They jutted their chin. "Sword, and I'll remove my childish self from being your problem." 

The antagonist smiled. Toothily. And lunged.

The protagonist made an embarrassingly uncoordinated spasm in response. But the antagonist blurred past them, to snatch up the book forgotten on the settee. "The Groestelle Bestiary? Interesting from a historic perspective I suppose, but not a priority for your education." They snapped the volume shut and glided away to return it to the shelves.

The protagonist blinked at their back, still primed for a fight. "My... I'm sorry?"

"Apology accepted," the antagonist said, running a finger along the shelves and plucking out volumes. "You can start on these this evening, if you think you can get through another few hours without collapsing in self-indulgent pique again. Tomorrow we'll start building your strength back to what it should be."

"Um." The protagonist planted themselves more firmly. "I'm leaving. Now."

"Ha." The antagonist dropped a load of books onto the coffee table between them, narrowed their red eyes. "I told you, I need a Hunter in my town to maintain order, keep my predators in check. Your presence, half-trained as you are, is already missed. With [Mentor] gone, we have no choice. I shall complete your training."

The protagonist burst out laughing.

"Indeed," the antagonist said sourly, returning to the bookshelves. "Tempted to laugh myself."

They gave a kick to a green book on the lowest shelf. The whole row of spines fell open to reveal, yes, a false compartment. But before the protagonist could say I knew it, the antagonist fetched out - two silver-edged swords. 

One was the protagonist's practical, no-nonsense gladius. The other was a rapier; an elegant piece of work. The protagonist had never seen the antagonist before with a sword in their hand - monsters hardly needed weapons - but they had no doubt from the antagonist's stance, their grip, that this was a deeply personal and extremely deadly tool.

The antagonist kicked the gladius across the polished walnut floor to the protagonist's feet. "Key to the door is in my pocket," they said, taking a familiar defensive stance. "You think you're ready to get back out there? Go on. Take it."

The protagonist had caught the handle of the blade under their bare foot. Their fingers itched to grab for the leather wrappings, to reduce the world down to the simple stakes of life or death. But they did not.

They scanned the room again - the sound-muffling tapestries, the human-sized furniture, the heavy locks on the doors and windows, the stack of books pulled from the shelves, the way the antagonist held their sword... They felt their stomach lurch again in a way that had nothing to do with the alcohol. They felt sick and so horribly, horribly stupid.

"Oh fuck me," the protagonist whispered. "There's no 'Hunters' organization, is there? It's you. This is how you've stayed on top of the monster heap for so long. You're running the Hunters as... what, your tools? Your boogeymen? Your assassins?"

The antagonist flicked their sword through a careless pattern. "There we go. Points at last. Only half credit, though," they added. "I didn't found the Hunters. I'm not that old. But yes, after the Gunpowder Schism and fall of the Antioch Council - you'll read about it in the third book from the top there - I took responsibility for keeping a Hunter cell alive in my city. And I do mean 'alive' literally. You have no idea how many times I have intervened to keep you and your predecessors from meeting the same fate as most of your fellows."

Now the protagonist lunged for their gladius, brought it up with a shaking hand. "Was [mentor] in this room? Did you kill [mentor] to get me here?"

That wiped the sardonic smile off the antagonist's face. "No," they said gently. "And no. It's... preferable when I stay behind the scenes." The antagonist lowered the point of their sword to a cautious rest. "She never knew, though by the end I imagine she suspected. The good ones figure it out and she was..." They swallowed again. "I truly will miss her."

"Don't you dare talk about her!" screamed the protagonist and flung themselves at the antagonist.

The fight was fast because of course it was. The protagonist's wild swings were expertly parried, and then a swipe. Closed fist to the face - a mercy. If it had been a slash of those claws to the throat the protagonist would have been bleeding out, dead in seconds. Instead they were flat on their back on the wood floor, their cheekbone aching and their wrists pinned with one hand.

"You were watching the sword, not me," the antagonist sighed above them, carefully pushing the gladius out of reach of the protagonist's thrashing. "This is why I hate teaching."

"I won't work for you!" the protagonist howled, flailing against the antagonist's weight pinning them down. "I'll die first!"

"Oh, if you won't work for me willingly, I definitely won't let you die," the antagonist purred, flashing their fangs. "You know too much now. Does the phrase fate worse than death ring a bell?"

A rush of pure animal fear froze the protagonist in place as cold breath ghosted over their face. The antagonist smirked and let go.

"Read the books," they said, rising to gather both swords and the half empty bottle from where the protagonist had left it in the couch. "Eat the soup. You've got a lot to learn: up to you if I have to make your life hell to make you learn it."

The protagonist rolled painfully up to their feet. "How do you have all this?" they snarled, a hand to their ringing head, "Who are you?" 

The antagonist shot them a tired, disappointed look, like they'd failed a test. "What you should be asking," they said with a half-hearted smirk and a swish of the rapier, "-is who was I, before I became this. Get reading. Fate worse than death, remember?"

The door slammed and the lock clicked.

#my fiction #hero x villain #protagonist x antagonist #human x vampire #hunter x vampire #vampires #vampire x human #continuation #100

[successionsuccs]

here's the second one of my pieces I did for the @sunnyhalloweenzine 🩸🧛‍♂️

#sunnyween zine #my art #macdennis #iasip #always sunny #its always sunny in philadelphia #it's always sunny in philadelphia #always sunny art #iasip art #mac macdonald #dennis reynolds #its always sunny #ronald macdonald #macdennis fanart #macden #sunnyblr #vampire #vampire au #vampire x vampire hunter

[ofagaysoul]

First kill is literally so bad. That being said.. I still watched all of it.

#first kill #vampire #legacy vampire #hunter x vampire #lgbt #dracula #that bitch unhinged his mouth like a snake and swallowed a bitch whole and then didnt gain any weight???? #netflix orignal series #netflix original #netflix

[cillivnz]

Hi 👋 I see you write for Lord Dimitrescu (miss a spot, hit the spot was brilliant and I would devour more) and I saw that you are taking requests, what do you think about monster hunter!reader x Lord Dimitrescu? You can take this in whichever direction you like best, but I do have a prompt idea!

Lord Dimitrescu and his sons find a trespasser on their land and Dimitrescu takes her in as his guest/prisoner thinking that she is a clueless lost traveler, not knowing that she's a hunter willing to get close to him by any means necessary, even if it means seducing a monster. Gaining access to his infamous library full of books on how to kill every monster known to man is just the first step, what she really wants is to find out the family's weaknesses and get lord Dimitrescu to let his guard down enough for her to kill him and every last member of his twisted family. Or at least that was the plan...

I just love villain gets the girl/ corruption stories and the idea of someone rolling up into that castle with every intention of wiping out the evil that lives there, but getting seduced instead... 😍😍😍

Love your work!!!

façade of seduction [lord dimitrescu]

PAIRING — LORD DIMITRESCU x MONSTER HUNTER!READER

WORD COUNT — 12.6k+ (i’m so sorry, it’s for the plot!)

WARNINGS — SMUT. eighteen+. AFAB!reader, dark arts, necromancy, the supernatural, mentions of murders, beheadings, cannibalism, vampirism, extremely dubious consent, cursing, extreme gore (blood, cuts, stabbing, mass murder, executions, etc.), reader uses seduction as a tactic, death of family, size kink, age-gap, degradation, pet-names, mentions as well as performed oral sex (talk of male!receiving, performed cunnilingus), fingering, female masturbation, mentions of male masturbation, unprotected penetrative sex, weird & unspecific AU, creampie, cum-eating, breast/nipple play, clit stimulation, extreme descriptions (?), kinda sorta brat-taming.

A/N — whoa, baby! she’s done! firstly, let me just shower this anon with kisses for trusting me such an amazing prompt! thank you, you beautiful soul. i had a blast writing this, and i’m sorry i couldn’t finish it sooner :’( you’re a literal genius, i hope you enjoy reading this as much as i enjoyed writing this, and thank you for the kind words! secondly,

i tried incorporating as much lore from the game as i could, majority of the plot is my own fictional work, and the rest [credited to the game] may have been tampered with to suit the plot of this fiction.

Lady Elvira Natalia Stoica is an original character — INCLUSIVE OF ETHNICITY, RACE, COLOUR, BODY TYPE, etc. the only definite characteristic she has is that she is reader’s doppelgänger with an identical appearance, and that her family is of the same origin as The Dimitrescus (Romanian).

Alcina Dimitrescu’s gender-bent version is named Alcides Dimitrescu in my fiction. the credit of his sons’ names goes to @angel-hawthorne ’s comment under this post.

there’s some deliberate references to my other Lord Dimitrescu fiction. read it HERE!

NOTES [excuse inaccurate translations]

"Idiotilor! Așa ne tratezi oaspetele?" : You idiots! Is this how you treat our guest?

"Oaspete? Dar ea—" : Guest? But she—

"Scuzați-vă." : Excuse yourselves.

căprița mea mică : my little doe

cameristă : maid

Pentru dumnezeu! : good god/for god’s sake!

𝓗unters.

Your father before you, and his before him. Monsters, demons, deities; anything of supernatural order, possessing paranormal traits needed to be laid down, and your family was bestowed with the responsibility to do so. They told you, you were god-gifted; possessing an astounding memory. It was as if you soaked in every word you read in journals rich in paranormal history, and carved every word into your brain with your own hand.

Those ungodly creatures fumed at the audacity of a mortal family killing the abysmal aristocracies in the name of slaughtering abominations.

How proudly you awarded yourselves the title of Vânători de urâciuni — Hunters of Abominations. Soon enough, though, the leaders of the Four Houses knew a lesson needed be taught, example be set; actions have consequences, and after all, you were mere mortals. Audacious, dangerous mortals.

The last of the Four Houses needed to be hunted down. Your father, your uncle, your brother managed to wipe out the other key members, before it was about time the reaper caught up to them. Weeks, months went by in weeping for them, never letting their caskets dry, but it was about time you stopped mourning. This isn't what you were raised to do — whom you were raised to be. There was no way in hell you'd let the last Family standing think that the danger was over, not when you found out that it was on their cue, their command, that the guillotine that slashed through your family's head held high, became the inevitable demise of the men of Vânători de urâciuni.

'Fuckers even had the audacity to send the heads back, all nice and packaged, and signed. It was then, you realised, the weight of your name's responsibility lies on your shoulders, now. Mother was too deep in the waters of depression, perhaps, vengeance would serve as her lifeguard, and you sought to get it. For her sake, and yours.

Packing the the remnant of your belongings, primarily, lore on whatever mutation resembled that of what you've heard the family to be; barbaric, and vampiric, you set voyage to Castle Dimitrescu, the Lord's stronghold within the vicinity of a titular Eastern European village; Romania, in other geographical terms.

After weeks on foot, travelling from place to place and squeezing in some good o'l slash-and-dash of monsters into your quest, you reached the abysmal castle. The oppressive aura surrounding The Dimitrescus' colossal abode could be felt miles away from its actual foundations, the monotonous venus blue atmosphere, the trees that have been decayed for decades, peering into your periphery, mortifying the sight of Castle Dimitrescu, even more. You shake off a shiver, determined strides leading you forward. An ominous forest welcomed you, seemingly, the flora responded to every step you took on the onyx soil; you were not too far from the gigantic gates of the castle, deciding to take a breather and assess just what you were dragging yourself into, the massive mountainous foliage providing a safe haven, temporarily.

Rummaging through the contents, page after page, you landed on Wendigo. You knew your ancestors categorised mutations in the same category as a Wendigo, it being the severest form of inhumanity; the mutated man would resort to cannibalism, still humanoid — tall and pale with elongated limbs and pale yellow eyes. If the Dimitrescus were anything like a typical mutated Wendigo, you hadn't thought this through. Then, you remembered your brother's journal.

He was vague with words, often scribbling up a précise at the end of a hunt. Too consumed by your tears, you initially forgot about it, until you realised halfway through your voyage that your mother packed his journal for you, and some documentations recorded by your father and your uncle in their youth, though, you highly doubted you'd be coming across an extinct creature.

There it was — the last page of his journal — the twenty-seventh page to be precise, with triple the pages still empty; clean slates like a reminder of his unlived life, the life that was taken away from him.

You smiled fondly at his handwriting, letting your fingertips trace the scribbles, how deeply the quill was engraved into the paper. You remember laughing at his handwriting, growing up, how your mother would ask him to get a doctorate to match his stereotypical physician's handwriting, but this is all he knew — all you knew. Hunting was your profession, your life and lifestyle, and now, inevitably, your demise, too. You began reading, as I said, your older brother, a master at scribbling précise.

You were unsure, however, when he'd got the time to write down about The Dimitrescus, having never come face-to-face with the tyrants. It seemed your brother's first guess, too, was 'Wendigo', which he scratched down, only to pen it down again, bigger and emphasised, once he enlisted 'Cannibalisme'.

Your heart sank at the etchings.

Even for someone like him, these were too cynical, like he were losing his mind at the mere thought of them: 'one LORD — THREE SONS', it read. 'Blood disease??', 'PARASITE??', 'VAMPIRISM'? That would mean— "Oh." You stood corrected when just below the analysis was a remark, "NO WEAKNESS TO SUN OR WEATHER". Sometimes you swore you and him had the same braincells, always jumping to the same conclusions, which only made the desire to avenge him overpowering.

Your eyes traveled to the end of the page, the last of ink spilled on the worn out pages of your brother's journal, 'NEOPAGAN CULT', 'BLACK GOD'. With widened eyes, and a sinister feeling you couldn't yet shake away, your eyes dart to the next, last page.

There was a symbol maniacally delineated, labelled as the same reports on the previous page. 'NEOPAGAN CULT SYMBOL', and at the bottom of the page, the last thing your brother ever did write was, 'THE CULT OF THE BLACK GOD'. You subconsciously traced the diagram, only to see the graphite taint your fingertips. Your mind was racing two hundred miles per hour, trying to put the pieces of a fatally intricate puzzle together. Your brother's journal, the last of the contents were mere observations, unlike the rest of the pages that are filled with methods of executing generations of monsters.

But for The Dimitrescus, the fact that 'most powerful family' was written with emphasis only made you scowl. You searched frantically in your bag for the journals of your father, your uncle; anything that spoke more about this parasite and the said Black God.

Glancing back at the foot of the palace, you had to do a double take when you saw the guards leave the premises, bread and wine in hand. Their chuckles could be sound from the heart of the forest, even though they repeatedly 'shushed' one another, saying "the Lord" would put their "heads on a stick".

You take their departure as your cue and pace quietly towards the castle. You stood face to face with the colossal gates, doing your level best to push them open, just enough to sneak in, but the big dumb fuckers wouldn't budge. Scoffing, as fate would have it in your luck, you began scanning the perimeter for any safe way in, otherwise, you sure as hell knew how to make an entry.

"Ain't no fucking way," you'd pretty much lost all hope, not realising when your brother wrote down, "tall", it included the infrastructure, too. It was then your eyes noticed one particular stone brick placed slightly outward, and the one above it, and then the one above it, outward enough for you to step on, up, and grip the grotesque grill, securing the premises from people exactly like you.

The first step up was easy, the stone steady enough to carry you, or so you thought for when the second you stepped onto the next one, the one below fell to the ground, shattering to bits. You eyed the stone your foot was on currently, leaping when realisation hit you. By the time you rock-climbed your ass up to the top, the whole way up had crumbled down. You gripped the gothic grill, not taking the maker of it to be a sadist, for it sliced the flesh of your palm even through the slightest contact. You winced, looking back at the broken rocks, perhaps, a good omen; no one would suspect you climbed up the wall, now.

Crossing the grill, you jumped down as silently as a human could, looking back at your newfound enemy, the grill, only for it to be leaking with crimson. You groaned at the sight of your blood, thinking you were better than this, letting some metal get the best of you, but the immense pain from the cut made your head a little dizzy. Shaking the odd feel off, you proceeded leftward, walking further in to be greeted by what seemed to be a courtyard.

No servants, chamberlain nor staff was seen out and about, quite contrary to what one would expect from the functioning of a castle this mighty. Though the odds were in your favour, it didn't seem so; it's quiet, too quiet. Nothing other than a raven's screech and the flap of the wings of a murder of crows was heard for miles. Your steps had quickened at the sight of a door, finally leading you inside. As you inspected it, you sensed a magical aura around it; you could use a spell to crack it open, but that would cause bring attention you did not need at the moment. So, you pull a pin from your hair and apply the cheapskate thief method, and lo and behold, you were in.

Fuck yeah.

Closing the bulky door as silently behind you as you could, you were slammed right back into it, while what felt to be a talon instead of a hand wrapped around the back of your throat. "Well, well, what do we have here?" Said an anonymous voice, cuing laughter from two more.

Fuck, no.

The last thing you remember was a pair of hands squeezing your waist, one choking you, while one hand ghosted over your face, causing a wave of unconsciousness to pass over you.

Chained; you groaned, a pounding ache ringing in your head like an alarm, your eyes blinked, close to a hundred times to get accustomed to your dark, unfamiliar surroundings, while your nose burned with the stench of— burning bodies?

You lifted your head to see three tall figures illuminated by the feeble attempts of a torch. "Alas, sleeping beauty wakes." You heard one taunt, a raspy baritone to his voice, "No fun — I prefer them unconscious," said another with a similar tone. "Well, you're no fun if you don't like to watch the fear in their eyes when they beg you for their life," said the third. The conversation flowed more amongst themselves, quite rude to not have included the meat of the matter — you, but what more could you expect from The Dimitrescu Boys? Oh, you were sure it was them. 'One lord — three sons', you remembered, and no odds suggested they were servants or guards. Not with the way expensive jewels embellished their stallion necks not-so-subtly, like an all-time reminder of their aristocratic status. 'Pathetic,' you thought, it seems no matter the day or age, the breed of "daddy's money" remains as obnoxious as ever.

While they bickered amongst themselves, you took the time to take in their appearances: Handsome, irrelevant. Tall, but no more than an average case of gigantism in most villages. Yellow eyes, but not humanoid — no, fully, thoroughly (so it seems) human. Could this be another variety? Hybrids, perhaps, since Vampirism was in the books of possibility. That could explain their immunity to weather conditions. Their facial features became vivid all of a sudden, and you noticed the blood smeared all over their faces. Paying heed to your iniquity, perhaps even irked expression, the boys smirked devilishly; not charming, dangerously, Lucifer-ishly, but satanically. You weren't into the lighter side of magic like your mother, only using it grotesquely, but you knew aura-reading, even envisioning, like the back of your hand, and theirs was sinister: an abysmal shade of black surrounding them, with occultism dancing between their physical forms in the fiery colour of hellish hues.

"Tell us, what's a pretty thing like you doing in a place like this?" One questioned, "Hm, never seen one so beautiful." "Is she even real — ethereal." "Makes me almost not want to eat her." Your eyes widened at the last remark, "Eat her in a different way, I'd definitely." Their shark-like smiles grew wider, subconsciously causing you to back away from them while they inched closer, ready to pounce on you and relish your beauty. "What do you have there, boys?" Asked the deepest voice you'd ever heard, from the other side of what you now realised was the dungeon. You were taken aback at the intrusion, silently thanking your saviour, even if it were the man himself — Lord Alcides Dimitrescu, head of Familia Dimitrescu.

His sons scattered immediately, letting their father rest his eyes upon you. "Food, father," one spoke eagerly, as if trying to impress his old man. "We saw her trespassing in the courtyard, and then she came inside." Spoke the other. "You could have her," said another, "If you save us a taste." Your face lost its colour when a ice-cold hand wrapped itself around your throat, yanking you up with one lift, and throwing you towards the bars between you and the mammoth Lord. His devilish expression— softened? "Elvira!" He exclaimed softly, reaching for your face, but the second his hand tried to snake past the bar, he winced in contact, the metal bar hissing with effervescence. Weakness?

"Idiotilor! Așa ne tratezi oaspetele?" The man was fuming: a flabbergasted expression on the said idiots' faces. "Oaspete? Dar ea—" "She can do as she pleases in my home." The man spat venom like thunder, his hateful expression turned to apologetic and caring in the blink of an eye when he turned to you. "Let her out this very instant." He glared at his sons one last time before turning away and saying, "The longer you wait, the more severe will be the outcomes."

So you were rushed out the dungeon and sent to the guesthouse.

The chamberlain had been waiting for you there at the direct orders of her master. "Lady Stoica, We're truly very sorry for the inconveniences caused to you. The Lord gifts you these gowns as his sincerest apology. He'd love for you to join him for supper once you have freshened up. Step out of your chambers, when you're done, and I'll be happy to take you there." You didn't acknowledge her, only awaited her leave so you could examine the gowns she had motioned towards while babbling courtesies you didn't give a fuck about. It'll definitely take more than four gowns to earn forgiveness for the treatment meted out to you down in the dungeons, but you wanted to give the tyrant lord a little bit of credit, for the gowns were stunning.

As you took in the details of each cloth, you came upon a note, which read: Sweetest Elvira,

Forgive my imbecile progeny, if you think they are worth it, but let us celebrate your presence, still, in my abode. Would you be so kind to accept my invitation for dinner? I have long yearned your company since the last time Lord and Lady Stoica visited.

Hoping to have you with me,

Alcides Dimitrescu.

Your blood boiled at his handwriting. It was the same intricate, royally cursive writing that signed the parcel of your family's heads.

You headed into the bath with murder on your mind; no matter how many times you'd sink into the warm waters, the heat only aggravated your fuming self. It was rosewater, the scent made your mind trail back to days of yore: when your mother would set up baths like this for you, the sweet scent of herbs and nature's warmth filled your hateful mind with nostalgia, then worry. Your mother had the most fight in her, no doubt about that, but that didn't mean she resorted to it easily; always seeing the best in people, giving them countless chances to repent. A generous, godly trait, but fatal in a world dominated by people like the man you were to meet with for dinner— supper, or whatever. You were just glad you weren't being served as the main course.

For now.

As you dried yourself up, your mind replayed the conversations, the characteristics and behaviours of the family. How he called you, 'Elvira'. Yes, Lady Elvira Natalia of Familia Stoica, another noble household your family put an end to. The irony lay in her appearance: the two of you looked alike — no, identical. Perhaps minor attributes set the difference between you two, or the fact that you put a bullet between her eyes — eyes just like yours; it was the reason why the Vânători de urâciuni men hesitated to kill her — sister, daughter, and niece. Not you, never had you hesitated. It's what set you apart in a man's world. If a woman's emotions got the best of her, than lucky for you and unfortunate for the whole world, the only feelings coursing through your mind like the blood in your veins were bloodlust. Blood and Lust, as your mind trailed back to Lord Dimitrescu—

Alcides fuckin' Dimitrescu.

He was tall, so tall, he had to crouch to an uncomfortable extent just to get a proper look at your frame through the dungeon bars. His raven locs and beard: neat as a lord, rugged like a pirate; his sharp nose, his thick, furrowed brows, his luscious lips and those eyes. Those fucking amber eyes, captivating, devouring you like a fox after literal meat. Their hue was as fluorescent as a Wendigo's, then how was he not like one? How is he so devilishly handsome?

Stuck in a limbo, half- hypnotised with hazy memories of the Lord, memories you were yet to make with him, you were left enchanted; like he had cast a spell on yo— "Holy fuck." That's it. It's the only logical reason behind such profound emotions. He had cast a spell on you. It could've easily been the waters, you had bathed in them, let the rose waters soak every inch of your skin. Or worse, his eyes? You had definitely not been that out of it to imagine them glowing in the dark, but if he truly practised necromancy at such a profound level that a mere look in your direction left you enamoured, then you had to come up with a plan, and come up with a plan fucking fast.

Despite your certainty that the only way you'd feel something so unlikely for a man who was responsible for the death of family, was via nécromancies, you still had to be sure. So, you performed an indication ritual. In a vessel, you stored the possible method of enchantment — the bath water — along with the blood of the enchanted. You prick your finger deep enough to get ample beads of crimson out, letting them drop into the vessel. Now, if by dawn, the contents of the vessel turn potently black, your suspicions are true, and the tyrant Alcides, indeed, cast a spell on you, but if it were to remain colourless, than the worst of your concerns has arisen, for you'd have willingly let lust overpower the balance of bloodlust in the weigh of your emotions.

Placing the vessel underneath your bed, you begin dressing. The odds were too ironic not to choose the rose coloured gown for the evening, so you wore it, feeling condemned to. Fixing whatever you deemed necessary, you stepped out of your room to find the chamberlain stationed exactly where she said she'd be.

Her breath hitched a little, eyes widening as she saw you turn towards her, "You look beautiful, Miss Stoica," was her way of seeing 'you clean up pretty nice for a dirty mess in the dungeons', but you paid no heed, letting the woman escort you.

The walk to the Lord's dining area was awkward, and fearful for the servant. There was no denying you resembled the heiress of one of the Seven Royal Families, but you hadn't thought your own victim's identity would play as your decoy in your most fatal mission.

You didn't blame them, you were dumbfounded at the striking resemblance, yourself.

The hair, the skin, the features; it was without a doubt you killed your doppelgänger that day, and though you were never one to follow rituals of lore, it says, 'the slaughtering of one's self' — a doppelgänger — 'is the greatest sign of one's power and control', so it was no wonder since then you had long been feared in every corner of Eastern Europe, but you never earned notoriety, nor make a fuss over the death of The Stoicas, which is why everyone in Castle Dimitrescu believes you to be her, for they think she is what you are; alive.

"We've arrived, madam. If you need me, please don't hesitate to call." She gave you a knowing look, one of empathy? Weird. Interestingly weird. You only nodded, before pushing the glass doors open, and letting yourself in.

Alcides sat with the three of his sons, you'd heard him call them Boian, Cătălin, and Dorin, not knowing which one is which, but you doubt names matter when their death's are destined by your hands. As if sensing you, something you'd mentally categorise among his vampiric characteristics, his head shot up from his sons and immediately those amber eyes were on you, ripping through your dress, eating you alive. His lifeless skin flushed at the sight of you, wet hair clinging to your frame so perfectly, he could smell the shampoo from here. How tightly the dress hugged your curves, how accentuated the rose colour of the gown made your ethereal body. Your plump, pouty lips were rosy like the gown, an even prettier colour, the sudden blush that dared to creep on your face, your determined brows raised a little at the shameless attention you were receiving, your big, radiant doe eyes widening, pupils dilating, and your long lashes batting at his direction.

"Elvira." He rose from his seats, as did his sons, heads snapping right at you to shamelessly ogle at you. On seeing that the look of disgust on your face was directed towards his sons, he shot them a fuming glare, causing them to nod an apology and immediately be seated again.

"Thank you for joining me." He said, softly, awaiting you. You moved closer, deciding to be seated beside the lord, across from his sons. "How have you been, my dear?" His hand found yours, yours minuscule in his clasp. "I had been fine, until certain miscreants accused me of trespassing."

You shot the three culprits a glare, and rightly so. Alcides eyed his sons, clearing his throat obviously when his sons remained oblivious to his cryptic signs.

"We're, uh," began one, "We're sorry, Madam Stoica," continued the other, "We didn't mean for any of that to happen, we just wanted to scare what appeared to be an uninvited guest at the time." "Had we known it was you... well, let's just say your welcome would've been different. Mostly." Finished the last, and your mind immediately caught on to the insinuation:

"Eat her in a different way, I'd definitely."

You could see the man's blood boil beside you, "Scuzați-vă." He growled, and you caught a glimpse of just how much fear he's instilled into his children, for they immediately excused themselves from the table and left with hurried steps.

"Pardon them, I don't know where I went wrong in raising them." He sighed once they were out of sight, rubbing the bridge of his nose. You've never been one to sympathise with an enemy, but maybe sympathy isn't what'll lead to his slaughter; seduction is.

You wordlessly place a hand atop his, earning a soft gasp from him. His eyes searched your face, and when you couldn't help but give him a small smile, he grinned; from ear to ear, letting his pearly fangs rise from their pillowy coverings, his lips, which he soon had to bite to control his giddiness. "Oh, Elvira," his voice was soft, a mere yearn lingering in the warmth of the room. Had it been this hot since you stepped in, or had the flush of your cheeks been indicating otherwise? "You're so beautiful." His other hand tucked the stray strand of hair falling onto your face, behind your ear. You felt a tinge of bitterness brewing in you, whatever relationship was established between Alcides and Elvira, it sure was on the better side of the spectrum.

Were you really feeling jealous of your dead doppelgänger? Well, from the way he looked at you— her — right now, you'd say he wouldn't take to her murder too kindly.

"I swear, you're even more beautiful than the last time I saw you." You blushed, so he enjoyed the new-and-improved Elvira more. "Yet you stay ever handsome." NO. You didn't mean for it to slip, you didn't mean it, you didn't think it — yet, you said it, and he fucking relished in it.

To save you from your embarrassment, your newfound guardian angels, the chef and other servants, brought in food of all sorts. Albeit the sheer hatred you felt towards them, you couldn't help but ask Alcides about his sons. "Aren't you sweet?" He looked at you with fondness, before answering, "The servants will bring them food to their quarters."

Fair enough.

You proceeded eating without another word or glance in his direction. Upon finishing the scrumptious meal, you waited for Alcides to take the lead.

Men like him relished in power, authority, and since he was born into it with a silver spoon hanging from his mouth, it was the only thing he knew.

He looked at you for several moments, an unreadable expression on his face making you more conscious than repelled, as if you craved the validation of his eyes.

He rose from his seat, one hand lingering in the air, an invitation for you to clasp it, while the other grabbed a hefty cluster of grapes by the stem. "Walk with me, darling."

He had to look painfully low to even see your head, once you rose to your height, it helped, but little aid was provided to the giant standing at 9'6.

You held his hand, the sheer size difference had you squirming in your steps.

Just imagine how beautiful sex would be with him, you wouldn't even be able to fit him— "Fuck," you whined under your breath, making damn sure your voice wasn't audible to Mount Everest beside you.

This was the spell talking — thinking; it's got to be. You withdrew your hand, pretending to fix the blouse of the dress, earning a glance from the Lord in your direction, which only stayed for a moment before the calming silence between the two of you was the only thing you could see, until he halted, pulling your attention back to him. "Fruit, my dear?" He waved the cluster, so you knew which ones he was talking about. Come to think of it, you did feel thirsty, and those grapes looked lusciously juicy.

"I don't see why not," you shrugged, not anticipated him to raise the cluster to his mouth and bite a grape off. You watched, mouth slightly agape as a perfectly fine grape rested between his fangs. Even the slightest subconscious movement could rip through the fruit, yet it stayed perfectly safe in his mouth.

He then crouched, now eye-to-eye with you. His eyebrows raised in your direction, challenging you. Challenging you to pull the fruit out of his mouth, and there was only one way to do it.

You bit your lip, you could have your fun, just until you find a reversal cure to his spell.

So, you grab onto both his wide, muscular shoulders, letting your arms cross around his neck. You smirk at him, bringing one hand forward to trace his features. He was so, so strong, to the point you were more aroused than intimated. Your hand reached his torso, you could see how your teasing placed him in agony. Slowly, you let your hand ghost over his pants, and lo and behold, he was aroused; painfully so, and you felt it immoral to torment a man so much (the fucking irony), so you palmed him through his pants, causing his mouth to hang open and out fell grape— right into your palm.

You bring the fruit up to your mouth, Alcides left mesmerised with the way your plump, perfect lips wrapped around it before ripping through it. A moan escaped your lips as the juice dripped down your tongue. "So good," you left out a sigh, and something in him snapped. Alcides flipped you around, you were now pressed against some wall that practically emerged in support of his... expeditions. He plucked two grapes, placing them in his large palm, before bringing it closer to your face. When your eyes widened in confusion, his other hand wrapped itself around your jaw, squeezing your cheeks to open your mouth, before you realised what he demanded and gave it to him; you licked about the fruit, before accepting them into your mouth. Your tongue still teased his flesh, when he pulled away. Amber eyes mere slits with obvious lust, "Now," he began, "You can say you've eaten out of the Lord's palm." He winked at you before walking away.

You steadied your haggard breathing, before deciding to follow him when a certain room caught your eye. It were as if your name was being chanted like a careful whisper, that only sounded when you were left alone. Following your gut, as a hunter as skilled as you would, you push open the heavy doors and let yourself in.

The first thing catching your eye was an obnoxious leather chair that you couldn't help but run a hand over, "Gator skin," you scowled. Though a hunter, you were against hunting — animals, that is, although you'd be hypocritical to say so when the creatures you send to hell are no less barbaric than a creature tormenting in wilderness. Still, you believed in fighting an equivalent, or even better, an apparent immortal.

On the left of it was an fireplace, charcoaled in exhaustion like it recently gave up it's flame and purpose, and in front, was a library, the source of your calling; not colossal, yet extreme in number. The whispering chant grew to a shout, a yearn for each leather-clad covering of ink spilled on paper to be touched by your feather-light fingertips, and only a fool would turn down a beseech like such.

Books of alchemy, instructional journals of God summonings, documentations on every supernatural creature that roamed the planet and how to kill them; even the Satanic Bible was on display, and you explored every single one of them. Fighting the temptation to steal every book with valour, despite how useful each would've proved to be to you in the future, you declined every book until you reached what you sought, rather, what sought you tonight. "The Book of The Four Houses", the spine read. You pulled the book out, not anticipating it to be so heavy. "The Book of The Four Houses", you read again, searching for an author, but not met by any name.

You flip through the pages frantically, in hopes to find any continuance of relevance to your brother's observations, and there it was: Familia Dimitrescu, the excerpt was titled.

"Alcides Dimitrescu was born into the noble Dimitrescu family sometime before the Great War, and through this ancestry inherited a hereditary blood disease, possibly porphyria cutanea tarda. Although his family traced their origins to Cesare, one of the four founders of an isolated mountain village in Europe, Alcides himself lived elsewhere, perhaps through a cadet branch. In the aftermath of the Second World War and the abolition of the nobility, Dimitrescu returned to his family's former lands, which had fallen under the control of a neopagan cult worshipping the Black God.

Prior to 1958, at the age of 44, Dimitrescu was lured by the cult leader, Mother Miranda, to a crypt beneath the village cemetery, where he was surgically implanted with a Cadou parasite. The purpose of this experiment was to determine his viability as a candidate who could become host to a parasitic intelligence at a later date. This experiment mutated Alcides' body considerably, granting him regenerative capabilities, retractable claw-like nails, and the ability to transform into a dragon-like monster and back again. Moreover, the parasite halted his aging process, maintaining his appearance perpetually. In spite of these impressive biological changes, the resulting mutation did not nullify his blood disease. As a result, Dimitrescu needed a ready supply of fresh human blood to maintain his health, and was therefore judged by Miranda to be a failure."

"Although Dimitrescu was of no use as a host, his claim to Castle Dimitrescu was recognized by Miranda and he was allowed to take residence in the village as one of the Four Lords, who would maintain order over the native peasantry while aiding Miranda in Cadou research. Upon inhabiting the estate, Dimitrescu took over his family's vineyard and wine-distribution business as a means of supporting himself."

"Relishing in his reclaimed noble status, Dimitrescu developed extreme caste-based views of society, seeing himself as second only to Miranda herself. He openly loathed the other three house Lords, particularly Karl Heisenberg, whom he frequently argued with. He privately bemoaned that he was not Miranda's favorite, instead being treated the same as all the others. Despite this, Dimitrescu's alliance with the other houses allowed him to rule his castle with barbarous cruelty, regularly taking in new staff to replace those who had been taken to his dungeon to be killed and drained of blood for sustenance."

"Dimitrescu's own experiments with Cadou appear to have been limited, as the only confirmed instance was an experiment begun by Miranda and monitored by Dimitrescu. In this experiment, the corpses of three men were implanted with Cadou parasites. Over the course of about a week, the Cadou produced fly-like organisms which then consumed the flesh of all three bodies. Having assimilated the DNA of these men, the flies merged to mimic their human shapes and slowly adapted their likenesses. Dimitrescu immediately formed a bond with these three men, whom he named Boian, Cătălin, and Dorin, and came to regard himself as their father. They obeyed Dimitrescu without question, and were similar to him in that they were ageless and reliant on vampirism for sustenance. However, they were incapable of withstanding cold temperatures, thus remaining trapped within the confines of Castle Dimitrescu."

That explains the overwhelming warmth of the Castle that had began to annoy you.

"Over the next seventy years, Dimitrescu and his sons systematically consumed the flesh and blood of local peasants and servants alike. The blood of maids was extracted and combined with grapes to create Sanguis Virginis (Latin for "Maiden's Blood"), a traditional Dimitrescu family wine. The female victims, now infected with Mold, lived on as Moroaicǎ and Samcă, while male victims were consumed and then hollowed out to be turned into scarecrows for the castle vineyard."

"Dimitrescu's reign of terror was not without resistance, however, as one villager is known to have stolen a family heirloom — the Dagger of Death's Flowers — in an attempt to assassinate him with its poisoned blade. The attempt failed and he was buried with the dagger in the Tower of Worship to keep it hidden from any others who might seek to harm him."

You snapped the book shut, mind whirling in an epileptic shock, replaying every single word over and over in your head, then images of Alcides, his "sons", Cadou Parasites, Mother Miranda? By the time you realised it, you were hyperventilating, eyes scattering from corner-to-corner, in search of anything less cryptic, anything less 'Once-upon-a-time-there-was-a-beautiful-boy-named-Alcides', and more 'Weakness-to-duhduhduh-kill-by-gunshot-to-the-duhduhduh'.

You threw your head back in unfamiliar pain that originated from your chest, you can't believe plain ink on paper knocked the air out of you, but then again, so did the signed caskets of your family; by the same man you now found out to be ancient and seemingly indestructible, but talk of this "Dagger of Death's Flowers" gave you hope.

Your thoughts of retrieving it were cut short when the doors burst open. "What are you doing?" roared the thunderous voice of the man of the hour, "Elvira." His voice was laced with an emotion you were too out of your head to begin deciphering. His eyes dropped to the book in your hands while awaiting your answer. "Oh, why didn't you say so?" His expression softened, causing you to raise a brow in perplexity. He walked over, the fondness in his eyes returned, causing your tense posture to relax a bit. He took the book from you, and seemingly landed on a page mentioning Alcides' life before lordship. "You really love this book, don't you? I guess it is fun to read a fan's work." He chuckled, flipping through the pages as if he hadn't seen the book in a long, long time.

Huh.

If 'Elvira', too, had been scavenging through the book of Dimitrescus, possibly for the same reason as you, maybe you're more similar than you thought.

When you looked up to his height, his eyes were already on you. "You look tired, my dear. I would be happy to take you to your quarters." He smiled, and your heartbeat was quick to quicken at that. "I'd like that, my Lord."

My Lord.

The walk to your chambers was a haze, all you could feel was the growing wetness in your panties from the way his eyes bore into you; penetrating every inch of you, consuming your conscience with the darkest desires.

Taking out your brother's journal from your bag, you flipped to a fresh page and began filling in your own conclusions. As you wrote, you began to think— not just as a hunter, but as a long deprived woman who had just encountered the most handsome man ever, who just also happened to have murdered her family.

The way he walks, the way he holds your innocent gaze challengingly, the way he looks at you like you're the most exquisite meal, and he's a man starving. You had long abandoned the trepidation and abhorrence you felt towards his cannibalistic lifestyle, instead, feeling a shameful surge of lust shoot into you. You rubbed your thighs together, laying on the bed, but dutifully still, writing every bit of knowledge you gained today; from the parasite, to relations with the leaders of the other Houses and Seven Royal Families that Vânători de urâciuni had already slaughtered, to Mother Miranda, and even what little you read about the Black God.

By the time you covered every intricate detail of a disaster waiting to happen, the heat between your legs was nuclear; the throb, unbearable, leaving you no choice but to act on your animalistic urges. You straighten up, slowly discarding the beautiful cloth that once accentuated your body, now felt like constricted bondages on it.

Once bare, you sink into the pillowy cushions of your given quarters. Something about the whole room smelled like him, but the strongest scent came from your dress, when you were pressed against him. Even both your arousals could be scented from the innocent rose dress, so you tugged it closer to you, breathing in his smoky musk scent, along with your innocent floral one. "Fuck," you groaned, fingers finally ghosting over the mess dying to be made between your legs.

You decided now was not the time to tease, so you coat your fingers in your wetness and smear circles on your swollen clit. "Fuck."

Your bud throbbed in your grasp, desperate to have a little somebody's fanged mouth on it, your nipples hardened the same, aching to have that mouth graze over them, suckle on them, taint the soft, ample flesh with sinister marks. Hell, if it meant one night of succumbing to carnal pleasures, you'd even let the fucker carve that neo-pagan cult symbol on you.

"Fuck!" You weren't thinking straight — no, you weren't thinking at all. How could you? You were under a spell, 'Yes, that was it,' you thought, more so struggling in convincing yourself than anything. Just the sheer thought of a man possessing vile notoriety, relishing in every crime you've fought against; his size, the abnormality of it all. You fantasised about how inhumanely long his tongue might be, teasing around your clit before plunging into your slit.

Oh, that's it.

You shoved your fingers inside of you, whining at how unfulfilling they were, when compared to the hands of him. You were pretty sure his middle finger was bigger than your face.

The only sound to be heard was the squelching of your pussy and your whimpering. You could only pray you weren't audible, not that you minded, because it was Elvira Stoica who'd get mocked, not Y/N Y/L.

Your pace quickened at the thought of him fucking you as Y/N. Would the thought of fucking the enemy be as tantalisingly erotic to him, too? Or would he just hate fuck you, and then feast on your flesh?

"Fuck me..—" You lost your voice when your breath hitched in your throat. "Ju-just like that, mhhm." You were so close, just a bit more... "Fuck me."

That's it, honey, just let go—

"Oh," you moaned too loud to be safe, "Alcides!"

Your legs were shaking, cunt spasming around your fingers while your chest heaved up and down, in a breathless state.

As you rubbed your high out, realisation dawned in on you.

What have you done?

You woke up disgruntled.

Still unimaginably wet, yet thankful for the release, but you hadn't forgiven yourself. Last night was unacceptable, even for someone enchanted. To make matters worse, this isn't even the first time someone put an infatuation spell on you; at least three men before this, but not to pacify an enemy, but to woo a stoic woman with only murder on her mind.

The victim of such a spell for the fourth time, yet Alcides is different. This was incredible necromancy, not like any you've encountered before. It was then you remembered the vessel underneath your bed. Almost too eagerly you jumped off the bed, still somewhat entangled in the sheets, which you threw off swiftly.

You ducked under the bed, the vessel promisingly in the same spot as you had left it. Reaching for it with closed eyes and crossed fingers, you pull it from underneath and lift it to your height.

As you peeped one eye open, then the other in disbelief, you threw the vessel with one swing of your arm. It banged against the wall, before falling to the ground with a typical, screeching metal noise.

This can't be happening. There was no way you felt what you did for Alcides, willingly. The clear contents of the vessel indicated otherwise, though. There was no mistake in your ritual, either; you added what was needed and waited long enough.

"No, no, no, no, NO!"

This can't be fucking happening. You were ready to bawl your eyes out, when one sophisticated knock erupted you. "Elvira." It was him, you knew, your body and heart knew.

When no response followed, Alcides began, "My sons and I are travelling out of estate," he cleared his throat, "I'm sorry for telling you on such short notice, but we won't be back until tomorrow." His voiced trailed off, as if waiting for you to reveal yourself, your reaction, anything, but you're too shaken up to give him any satisfaction. "That's quite alright, my lord." You swallow the lump in your throat, not being able to control yourself and adding, "I'll be right here, waiting." You swore you heard a groan, but were stuck in a limbo by the time Alcides left your door.

You decided all things could be said and done after bathing, so you run a bath and let the scented waters soak into you, replacing the stench of your sins with the perfumed power of blaming Alcides; but you couldn't do that anymore, could you? Not when he was never provocative.

Once you finished freshening up, you grabbed another one of the gowns Dimitrescu gave you. It was black, and beautiful; you were left speechless when you put it on. God, did he really have to make you feel beautiful when you were sent to kill his entire bloodline? "Ah, such unfortunate circumstances." You 'tsked' before doing your hair.

By the time you were done with your makeup, you were certain of today's plan: You were going for breakfast, accessing the courtyard, navigating the Tower Of Worship, exhuming the villager with whom the "Dagger of Death's Flowers" is buried; dig it out, lace the blade with gunpowder, stab all fuckers, one by one, get the fuck out, walk miles back home, and hibernate.

Sweet.

You step out of your quarters to find the chamberlain posted there, just like the day before. "If I say so, my lady?" She looked up at you, the tiny thing was adorable for the fear she felt, yet still wanted you to know that, "You look ravishing." She briefly looked you in the eye before the rouge on her cheeks became embarrassingly obvious, to her. You, on the other hand found her just as she was, adorable.

Upon entering the dining area, she silently took her leave, when you grabbed her wrist. "First Alcides, now you, too?" You asked, flirtatiously referring to both of them excusing themselves from you. "The least you could do is give me company." And how could anyone resist the sultry tone of a stunning woman?

So the chamberlain finds herself dining with you.

You insisted she sat besides you, and despite putting the maximum distance between your chairs, she complied. "So...?" You inquired after finishing your meal, referring to her name. "Oh— uh— Pasha, mi lady." You smiled, "Beautiful name for a beautiful girl." You saw her rub her thighs together from the corner of your eye. "Well, Pasha," you decided to break the awkward silence that hadn't formed yet, "You think you can take me to the Tower Of Worship?" You sipped on your tea, eyeing her while you swallowed, only to see her with widened eyes and haphazard breathing. "Me-my l-lady—..." she stammered, hesitation painted all over her soft features as if you asked her to murder The Dimitrescus herself, or eat you out, you couldn't decide which was more mortifying for the poor girl. "What is it, Pasha?" You sighed.

"Th-the area is strictly off limits— only the... family can go there." She gulped at your growingly irritable expression. "I am part of the family — the Stoica household, in case you've forgotten, cameristă."

"I- yes, mi lady. I'm so sor—" "I don't want to hear it." You interrupted, raising a hand in the air. "Will you, or will you not take me to the Tower Of Worship?" You stared at her, the impatience visible on your face, before you decided to put on the façade you knew best; the façade of seduction. "Please, Pasha," you placed a hand on her bare thigh, her little skirt leaving little to imagination.

"For me?" Were the magical words that got the job done.

So you walk with the head of the staff of Castle Dimitrescu, into the family's place of worship, to exhume the corpse of the only man with the balls to try and assassinate him.

Pasha dropped you off at the foot of the Tower, more than happy to bolt away once you told her it was okay to leave you alone.

You walk up the stairs, and into the end of Castle Dimitrescu.

For a place of "worship", the place had the most oppressive aura, reeking of the occult and unimaginable. You fought your way inside, barely getting in while the air was knocked out of you; perhaps, a barrier of necromancy, despite it, you were able to get through.

You ran from corner to corner, searched every square centimetre of the place, but no place near-resembled the tomb of an assailant. "Fuck, where is it?" Your hands dipped inside your bag to look for something, before pulling it out and beginning your rummaging.

Indeed, you had stopped by Alcides' study before breakfast, telling the maid you 'forgot something' in there during your "time" last night, before winking at her shamelessly and forcing your entry. Sneaking out 'The Book of The Four Houses' was something you could do with your eyes closed.

Your eyes read past every word until you landed where you were made to stop, when the wave of overwhelm hit you last night. "Hall of the Four", the title read.

"The Hall of the Four, known in Japanese as Between the Four Angels (四天使の間, shi tenshi no aida?), is an area of Castle Dimitrescu." The Hall of the Four leads to the Tower of Worship, but this door cannot be opened until the four masks are placed on the Angel statues."

You groaned a string of profanities.

It's like you were set up for failure, and the worst part is, you could hear him laughing in the back of your mind— Alcides. His new abode has become the back of your mind, for he never leaves there.

Tired, disappointed and on the verge of giving up, you leave the Tower. You were a goner without the masks, and despite being in a rush to at least try and acquire them, you walked in a defeated slumber.

The chamberlain met you somewhere near the courtyard, surprised to see you walking out alive. "Lady Stoica—" "Just take me to my quarters, Pasha." You sighed, earning a swift nod from the confused chamberlain.

You walked lost, still, until you reached your room and opened that damned book again. While you scrolled through the contents, a mere note fell off, barely in your grasp.

The handwriting.

It was your brother's, but— it couldn't be. They never got close enough, which is why you're here now, right? They never got close enough. Three of the most feared, skilled men in the world of hunting never got close to one man and his three experiments for sons.

How in the hell did— Wait.

'Mask of Pleasure: Second Floor of Castle Dimitrescu',

that's where you are right now.

Everything could wait, hell, God could wait on the other line of heaven. You needed answers, yes, but something in your gut tells you it's better unknown. All that matters right now is killing him and every last member of his twisted family.

Or at least that was the plan...

You find yourself walking towards any room, with any possibility of possessing a mask. Hell, you had no idea what it looked like, but if it looks anything like the pleasure you'd be rewarding yourself with once you get the fuck out of this place, the mask won't be too difficult to find.

Soon enough you had pulled the place apart — the whole floor — except one room you hadn't set foot in. Alcides Dimitrescu's chambers.

A colossal door; you couldn't look away from the necromantic symbols etched into the woodwork. Had you not possessed the ability to see through such dark arts, you would've stepped right in and be left to deal with a fatality. You pull two vessels from your bag; the Blood of Christ and Vurxelheim, two of the purest substances on the planet, known to melt away all magic, no matter how ancient or dark, and as your expected, it did just that.

Alright, now all that was needed was to open the door, and even an amateur could do that with a pin.

Upon entering, you took in the details of his abode, almost forgetting to close the door behind you. Everything was brown; that's something you've noticed about the whole castle. Monotonously warm shades of brown, dimly lit with heat radiating over every surface. You only quirked a brow at the abnormalities. It soon came to your knowledge that the foundation of this floor is regarded as the "Hall of Pleasures". Kinky.

You looked around every corner, in every possible direction and space, but to no avail. Sighing, your head fell back, eyes closed it absolute demotivation, but when you opened your eyes, the first thing you saw was porcelain intricately carved, and hanging from the ceiling; a place where no mortal, but only a 9'6 indestructible titan of a tyrant could reach. It was obnoxious, if anything; placing it in a place so obvious, yet so out of reach — a direct message to show he's better than the rest, quite literally above them.

With no possible way of reaching it, you were still accessing your options when one strong arm wrapped itself around your waist and raised you up, right to where the mask hanged. "If you wanted to swing by my chambers,"

"You could've just asked, mic vânător."

Little Hunter— "Let go of me!" You writhed in his grasp, hand slowly reaching for the mask, still. "If you say so," he shrugged before letting go of you completely, letting you hang from the ceiling like a dreamcatcher. "Son of a bitch! You put me down this instant or I swear to God I'll rip through you and your experiments with my bare hands." "Ah, there's no need to get feisty, Elvira." He said, grabbing you by the waist, and putting you down, despite your kicking and struggling. "I'm only trying to help." He grunted, one hand disappearing behind his trench coat; you were ready to pounce at him, when he pulled, seemingly, the other three masks from behind.

"There you go, sweetheart. Masks of Joy, Sorrow, and Rage." He waved the remaining three keys to The Hall of the Four. You eyed him, and he swore the frowning pout was the cutest sight he's ever seen. "C'mon, they're yours for the taking, darling." He smiled at you.

"What's the catch, Alcides?" You sighed.

It's never that fucking easy, is it?

"One night with me." He simply spoke, taking your deepening scowl as a notion to carry on, "One night to decide what is it that you want, Elvira," "Or should I call you, Y/N Y/L of the Vânători de urâciuni?" Your eyes widened with horror; you hadn't processed him calling you 'little hunter', yet, and now this? This could only mean— "How did you—" "Please. 'You think I wouldn't find out about the mass murder of my fiancé? And imagine the gossip about town that it was a doppelgänger who did it." No, you were careful, he's lying — he's got to be. "Lucky for me, I get the sexier one, now." He chuckled, impressed with his wit.

When you didn't give him the satisfaction of freaking out on him, moreover agreeing to his terms, he rolled his eyes, "Pentru dumnezeu! The first mistake was the rocks you climbed on. They've deliberately been arranged like so, for trespassers like you to easily enter, walk through the courtyard, and into the quarters of my sons for them to feast upon. Then, leaving your blood on the grill? The scent agonised me. It was so difficult to put those three dogs on a leash, having never smelled something so sweet." He 'tsked', "The second mistake was trusting Pasha. It was her hand that twirled in your bath water, mixing the infatuation spell, and it was her, too, that switched the vessel underneath your bed. Very clever, by the way, very thoroughly performed indication ritual."

"But your third— baby, this mistake might as well be a blessing because it's the only fucking thing keeping me away from ripping into you slowly, and feast on your flesh for two whole days; pleasuring yourself, in my fucking castle, fantasising about fucking me."

"Oh, and the guillotine was Heisenberg, I only added the dramatic touch of sending the heads back."

You couldn't bear it.

Bottles full of emotions you've locked away for ages finally hit the concrete of reality; shattering to a million pieces while the man you still find irresistible, had an unimpressed look on his face. "Y/N. I know you want to kill me—" "Oh, honey, you have no idea." You laughed dryly, choking on sobs, but something tells you the impact of your threat didn't go in the direction you wanted because he visibly tensed when you called him, "honey".

"But," he raised both hands in defence, "I wouldn't have gotten you these," he said, waving the masks again, "If I didn't think this deserved a chance— we — deserved a chance." "You think I'll let you anywhere near me after you toyed with me like a plaything? Sent me my father, my uncle, my brother's heads to add a 'dramatic touch'?" "I should've put a more potent spell on you," he cursed under his breath, earning a scoff from you.

You pulled out a dagger from your thigh holster, and lunged at him. Caught off guard, Dimitrescu's eyes widen while you slashed through his alabaster shirt, eager to bleed some crimson into his lifelessly pale skin. "I've had it with you, brat!" He growled, the whack of his palm on your cheek took you back, and you didn't mean to moan.

The cry, it was wanton, and it had Alcides latching on to every ounce of self control he still preserved. "Alright, here's what we're gonna do," he grabbed the dagger from your grasp within a second. "You're gonna take off your clothes, lay down, looking pretty for me like you always do," he walked closer, raising his large hands again in defence. "You following me— okay," he inched closer to you, while you backed away, further into the wall. "I'm gonna feast on this pussy, then I'm gonna finger your tight hole open, and because I'm feeling generous," he grabbed ahold of your waist, pulling you flush against his chest, "I'm not gonna force my cock into your pretty little throat, you're gonna beg for it." He caressed your face, the way your doe eyes watered while staring at him, like glass he could see his reflection in, your agape lips and soft expression made his pants constrict his cock agonisingly. "And the last thing I'll be doing, even if it's my last ever," his hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you to his king-sized bed. Laying you down, and climbing on top like a wolf on a lamb, he says, "Is fucking this pussy till you finally accept that you're made for me."

His mouth latched onto your neck, easily manhandling you at the same time while you writhed in his grasp. "I would rather be dead." You spat out venomously, which only made Alcides smile. "Well, alright. I'd still pound you till you're a mere cum-dump, but I'd surely miss those pretty sounds you made when you fingered yourself thinking about me." He panted against your pulse point, baritone voice hoarse with lust.

He spread your legs, lifting both your hands up by the wrists to his face. "Tiny little things," he kissed the knuckles of each finger, "Unsatisfying, aren't they?" He showered your hands with kisses, "Don't worry, darling, I'm here now." He raised both hands so their size was visible in your periphery, before grabbing your dress and pulling it over your head. "No!" You resisted, causing him to huff, annoyed. "Don't make me tear it off, honey, you look breathtaking in it." He cooed, and your movements haltered enough for him to successfully get it off you. "Good girl— such a good girl f'me."

Immediately his eyes were on your curves, your hips — perfect for bearing the child he was about to fuck into you, your breasts, so ample, all available for his groping and fondling, your pussy almost peering out of the silk panties. "Fuck, Y/N." He groaned, about to rip your underwear off when your pleads interrupted him. "Alci-Alcides please don't." "Hm," his sharp eyes seemed to be calculating his next move. "You say no, but your body," he groaned, pressing the knuckles of two of his fingers against your clothed cunt, "Your body sings otherwise, my love."

Every second passing by was petrifying.

The mortal battle between blood and lust, two things you were the epitome of, qualities comprising your very backbone, now, asked you to break it; bend over backwards and break your back for this man.

The string of pleads you cried fell on deaf ears, which, a part of you was glad for. Maybe if you continued to put the blame on Alcides and his necromancy, you'll actually let yourself live with the fact that your desires to have him ravage in your guts is overpowering, and the carnality lay in the fact that you didn't even care about what happened after. You were serving him your body in a platter, which you had not an ounce of doubt would eventually serve that purpose, quite literally.

"Tell me you want me." He hovered over your breasts. If he wanted to play games, then games you'll play. "I want you..." you whispered, "to go fuck yourself." He would've smacked you again, but again, you would've enjoyed it. What did stop him, however, was the shit-eating grin plastered on your face that showed him you were still on planet Earth, among the living and the abominable.

"Now, why would I do that, when I've got such a pretty girl with her pussy all wet for me?" He mimicked your expression, staring into your soul until you were forced to look away, and your eyes landed right on his clothed erection. "This?" He followed your gaze, "You're going to take care of this in just a minute, but for now," he paused, his large hands turning into talons and ultimately perilous claws. Cutting through the hems of both your garments, he retracted his claws immediately. You flinched when his hands came closer to your hips, "Don't be afraid, mic vânător." His baritone voice gave you absurd comfort, the tone, reassuring. "They can't hurt you, unless I want them to." His pearly whites were like the fangs of a serpent, peering out, bloodthirsty for you.

With that, he lowered himself and dove right in.

You slithered about while his anomaly of a tongue kitten-licked your inner thighs. "I'll tie you to the fucking bed, if you don't quit squirming." He spat.

At your pussy.

You moaned in response, hips momentarily halting from the continuous resisting. "Yeah? You like that don't you, slut?" His fingers spread your slit, before spitting right into your tight hole that fluttered about nothing. "There you go, my love." He cooed in response to your whining, smoothly inserting his index finger into the same hole. A tremor ran down your spine at the sudden intrusion; the stone-cold, thick and long thing digit was a cruel thing, reaching that sweet spot the minute it bottomed out till, knuckle-deep in your velvety walls, and even calling the others to join in on the assault on your cunt.

Accommodating, now, three of his fingers, pummelling your cunt, scissoring you open, was more overwhelming than any dick you've ever taken. Maybe the fact that no one else could amount to the size of an ancient 9'6 vampiric cannibal Lord who's put his and the life of his sons in your palm.

Either you take them away, or let him take you to carnality never fathomed before, and the way he sucked on your swollen clit while fucking you with his fingers was a clear indication of your preference.

"Alcides," you moaned, nearing your high. "Yes, my love?" He replied almost instantaneously, as if finally you complied with a poor man's request. "What is it that you need, darling? I'll give it all to you." He lifted up from your pussy, leaving your clit with a wet 'pop' sound, making his way over to your breasts, while his movements inside you never faltered once. His sharp eyes searched yours, fixated on them while his hot tongue snaked out of his mouth to twirl around your hardened bud. Flesh on fire, you leaned into the feel of his mouth on you. "Fuck me, Alcides." You cried in defeat. How the mighty have fallen prey to the vultures of lust, mere carcasses of seduction.

Alas, the façade of seduction had backfired, and you had fucked up royally.

Upon hearing the trumpets of his victory through your pretty mouth, Alcides would've been a fool to refuse you. Eagerly he undoes his pants, letting his throbbing cock spring free. Your eyes damn-near saw your brain at the sight of the thing. "Alci— I can't." Seeing you panic, he began getting off on it. "You can, and you will." He hissed when his calloused thumb rubbed against the slit of his cock.

"Oh, I wanna feel that throat squeezing around me." He pumped faster, fucking his fist to the thought of you like many a night before. "But this pussy will do," "For now." He said, rubbing his length fervently against your slit, lathering your wetness on his leaking tip, enthusing a sweet mix of your cum, much more of which was to come.

"Won't be... able... to..." You spoke in between moans gaps the tip was in. The stretch was abnormal, ungodly, unnatural — exactly what you're deemed to kill. "You'll take it, mic vânător." He began to push more in, knocking the air out of your body. "Stop clenching," he groaned deeply, the sound resonating in your core. Nothing could've prepared you for this intrusion, so agonisingly painful, yet deliciously filling.

"You've... got to s.—stop... clenching." He pushed in the whole length, deadening your movements. You'd think he'd fear breaking you, but no. Alcides fuckin' Dimitrescu was thrilled to see you finally submitting, even if your body paralysed in the fear of being ripped open, your back arched, breasts stopped wavering in the air, and your breath caught in your throat.

Only when the loudest, most pornographic moan left your lips did Alcides begin to thrust into you, already drunk off of your pussy, ecstatic in ecstasy.

Despite the slow speed, his thrusts were deep enough for legs to start shaking. To your shock, he lifted your legs and since they couldn't reach his shoulder's that stood almost as stall as the fucking ceiling, they were swinging across his forearms, and at this angle he slammed his hips into you.

You screamed, damage was made to your vocal chords as well as your walls when the penetration quickly turned into pummelling, giving you zero time to adjust to the mammoth size of it. On seeing your closed eyes, Alcides smacked your face, gentler than before, yet enough for your eyes to shoot open, face contorting in pleasure at his gesture that was now among your favourites. "Don't let those pretty eyes waver away." His grip on your hips was threateningly tight. "Look into my eyes, or there," his eyes motioned downwards, and it was then you saw the immense bump in your belly. Your eyes widened in profound horror. He had most certainly torn your insides apart, you were sure.

"See how big it is— how well you still take it?" He babbled while vigourously pushing into your poor cunt. "Pl-lease, go... easy on—me." You managed to plead out, but nothing counts stop the possessed Lord. Finally, he got the chance to feel your insides, and there was no way in hell, he thought, he'd let you off easy. Not when you're the biggest threat to his existence, let you wrap so tightly around his monster cock.

Dumbfounded, cock-drunk, utterly paralysed in place, you had no choice but try to get accustomed to the relentless attack your pussy had to endure.

Just when you thought your demise would be the sole pleasure you were forced to undergo, two of his fingers rubbed fervent figure-eights on your bundle of nerves that ached with bloodrush.

You babbled incoherences, whimpering, shaking your head repeatedly when he lifted your lifeless body, just the tip of his cock inside, and switched positions with you. Now, he laid, somewhat upright, hands crossed behind his head. Leisurely eyeing you, while you struggled to breath with his entire length upright inside your walls, his tip pressing against your cervix like an enemy threatening to break down your barriers; your walls.

"M-move... please..." you mewled, causing him to 'tsk' with disdain. "Help yourself, căprița mea mică." He raised a brow, mouth curling viciously into a smirk, "Use me as you please." Your shaky hands reached for his broad shoulders, raising then steadying your hovering self over his cock. His eyebrows wiggled in amusement, awaiting your move comically, until the feel of your walls struggling to take in his tip pulled him back into a trance of pleasure.

He let out an animalistic groan that lingered to be what you swore was a whimper, so you did your best to lift your tiring legs and plop down on his cock, upright and pulsating inside you. "I could fuck this pussy every moment for the remnant of my days." He smiled at you, large palms resting on your hot ass, slowly caressing your curves. The gesture, so contradicting to the impaling you were enduring, nearly knocked the air out of you, for when your perplexed eyes met his expectedly ravenous ones, you were shocked to see them replaced by fondness.

"If I'm lucky enough to live," he paused, hands squeezing your ass before sitting upright, pulling you with him. You moaned wantonly when you felt his cock deeper. "Let this be how we wake, how we sleep — in each other's embrace." His eyes widened, as did yours, like deer caught in front of headlights. The feigning look of innocence on his face sent your core spiralling with erotic ache, when his face, not once breaking eye contact, inched forward to stop just in front of your nipple.

You shrieked when he took complete control, earning a whine from you as you just got the hang of dominance, but when you noticed the hellbent gleam of carnality in his eyes, you knew you were in for a ride.

He suckled on your bud while fucking through you. "You're close, aren't you?" He pulled away from your nipple with a pop sound, resting his bearded face on your breast, "I know you are. 'Can feel her tightening around my cock." He chuckled, mouth back on the hardened bud in his presence. You sneaked a hand down and rubbed your bundle of nerves, fervently.

His large fingers, jealous of your own, were quick to replace them in driving you to your high. You were practically spoon-fed the orgasm, that took a toll on your fragile body.

No emotion overwhelmed every hemisphere, every neurone of your brain like ever before. Your mind went spiralling away, like an eternal shore hugging the lunar tide for the first time a night, your shore's dry spell was over, and your body did it's best to fight the feeling and drive a stake through his lustful heart, but your body was worn out; used as any lucky ragdoll would be.

The overstimulation sent you back to Earth at godspeed. His movements were sloppy, but not faltering, and soon enough, he let his seed bathe your walls a pearly shade. "Take it all— carry my seed." He moaned, absentmindedly.

When you plopped onto his shoulders, he lifted you up single-handedly and laid between your legs. You instinctively closed them; despite being too fucked out of it, you still cringed at how both your cum leaked out of you, ruining the sheets and everything between.

"Alcides, no—"

You were a second too late in pleading, for he grabbed you by the legs, placed them on his shoulders, and stood up.

You hung upside down, your pussy a stone's throw away from the man's smirked lips. By now, you knew what was about to unfold, yet the first lick to your cum-coated lips sent shockwaves down your spine (rather up?).

He moaned against your clit, the vibrations causing you to writhe in his grasp. His tongue licked your pussy clean, the circular motions on your clit, to the long licks from your clit to slit.

It's crazy how an anomaly like him became your exception — the hunter's favourite prey. With a tongue so skilled, you weren't to be blamed for succumbing to your current situation; not like you could do much in the grasp of a monster like him.

You're lucky his cock didn't fuck a new hole into you.

When his large palms let go of your hips, you wrapped your legs around his neck instinctively. You could've used his vulnerability to your advantage, had your mind not clouded in the ecstasy of overstimulation. It seemed like Alcides thought the same, for he smirked devilishly to himself, letting his talons ghost about your flesh, before slightly retracting to pinch and squeeze your nipples. He placed open mouthed kisses on your clit that not once stopped throbbing.

You shook in agony, his mouth worked tantalisingly slow on your burning hot cunt. Deciding to show mercy, an unlikely thing for the tyrant Lord, he smiled at your frame hanging tightly from his; your breasts heaving under his touch, obstructing his view of your pleasure-stricken face.

Lord Dimitrescu plunged his tongue inside you, placing one hand on your hip to push and grind you against his tongue, and you swore every atom in your body was swollen with pleasure.

"No... n-no more..." Your beseech was deemed adorable by the man tongue-fucking you. He pulled out, slithery wet tongue, coated in your juices, leaving you breathless. He lapped at your wetness, growing per minute as he so desperately coaxed more out of you.

Dumbfounded, pussy-drunk, utterly engrossed in place, you had no choice but try to get accustomed to the relentless devouring of your pussy at the hands of your sworn enemy.

One of his hands snaked to your clit, the ever fervent pace of his movements drove you to madness. Your body stilled, eyes rolled back, breath hitched, and it was when his tongue flicked inside of you that you realised that you were doomed.

After drinking your juices clean, Alcides placed you gently on his bed, and by the time he laid next to you, you had already wandered off in dreams.

Your mother awaited your letters.

Perhaps, she'll be rejoiced to hear you alive and well, or maybe she'll be mortified that you're alive and well, and The Dimitrescus live and breath, still. Either way, she and the rest of the world better get used to you signing every final letter as 'Lady Dimitrescu'.

#lord dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu genderbent #lady dimitrescu #genderbent #lord dimitrescu smut #lord dimitrescu x reader #lord dimitrescu x reader smut #size difference #resident evil #resident evil dimitrescu #resident evil village #dimitrescu #monster smut #vampire smut #lord dimitrescu sons #supernatural #leon kennedy #dimitrescu family #hunter #monster hunter #elvira #anon my beloved

[bwabys-scenarios]

vampire kurapika thoughts? :D

Vampire Kurapika HCs SFW/NSFW

!!REBLOGS OPEN!!

warnings: period sex, creampie, breeding, pussy eating

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SFW

-he is very hesitant to bite you. if you tell him it’s okay, and that you even want it, me may nibble you. although he LOVES the taste of your blood, he gets anxious hurting you and feeding from you in a way that could potentially harm you if he takes too much. he prefers to feed from you in… other ways.

-he is COLD to the touch, so he has a bad habit of snuggling up to you and putting his hands under your shirt to get warm. vampires can only feel warmth when touching humans or consuming blood, so let’s just say he’s very touchy.

-he’s been alone for centuries, forcing himself into a life of solitude out of fear that he would be hunted down, or that he would hurt someone. so when you, the cutest human he’s ever seen wants to spend time with him, he gets clingy and FAST

-Kurapika is so clingy, following you around at night and watching over you. you end up changing your sleep schedule a bit so you can be up with him more often, since he rests during the day. he doesn’t sleep, but gets a bit lethargic and wouldn’t be in the mood for anything but cuddles. so if you want you want to do any sort of activity with him, it has to happen in the evening to the early morning when he’s awake and energized

-again, this man is clingy and he is TOUCH STARVED!! he wants constant attention and affection, even if he’s a bit shy asking for it. he’s been alone for so long, and he loves you so much! please give him all the snuggles and kisses he wants :(

-his protective and possessive tendencies border on yandere. you’re his treasure, his precious little angel, he won’t let anyone take you away from him.

-he has a few cat like behaviors. first, he purrs! it’s so cute, but don’t point it out or he’ll become self conscious. another thing he does is knead at any of your soft spots, like your tummy or thighs. anything that’s nice and soft and perfect for squishing! he also tends to curl up with your forehead warmth like a cat as well :3

NSFW

-This man… period sex… ugh…

-he was absolutely terrified at the thought of losing control and feeding on you, so when he smelled the delicious aroma of blood on you in the middle of the night he panicked. he tore off your clothes to find the wound and try to help you before his mind was taken over by his thirst… and found the source. your pretty pussy was drenched in blood. he wasn’t an idiot, he knew what a period was, and he was just awestruck at the lovely sight before him.

-safe to say he ate your pussy well into the night, giving you gently kitten licks and soft sucks to your clit. you woke up with the pain in your abdomen feeling slightly better, and your boyfriend looking up at you from your pussy adoringly. “so good… mmph…” he purred, his mouth and chin covered in blood.

-not only is he scared to drink from you, he was also scared to have sex with you. he sees you as an angel, a pure being, and having sec with a creature of the night such as him was an act of sin. it didn’t take long for him to sink his cock into you after you begging and whining for it, but he felt bad after :( he got over it, though, when he saw how cute you looked with that satisfied smile on your face

-he makes love, and is always putting your pleasure first. he can be a bit rough and forget his strength when he fucks into you for the first few times, but he’s never had sex, and all those centuries alone really wear down on a man :( he just wants you so bad, his vampire instincts telling him to stuff you full of his cum to make more little vampires

-all he wants is to make you happy. he adores you, and your face, fucked out and satisfied turns him on to no end. you just look so cute all full of his cum!

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