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spitgobbler · 2 months

Text

Bunny Hop ! [rough ver.]

uh oh… Leon seems stressed. its a good thing he has a bunny to take it out on!

pairing: fem!reader x Leon Kennedy

tags: bunny hybrid, owner, biting/hickeys, knife, tactical gloves stay on, clit spanking, mean Leon, tail grabbing, p in v, mentions of breeding, reader is a bunny hybrid but gets put in doggy?! sweetness at the end 🫶🏻

note: my writing is a bit rusty so if you see a mistake, no you don’t 😭 also rough is kinda subjective but this is def rougher compared to the soft ver!

soft ver here!

masterlist

It was late, very late, and Leon still wasn’t home. The sun had gone down and the orange hues of the sunset went away and out came the moon and stars. It was way pass dinner too.

He messaged you briefly on the phone he got you once he took you in from the center, the purpose of it to remain in contact even when he was away for work, like today. Something about being held up and to be ready for him when he came home. Whatever that meant…

Leon’s messages were always short and simple over the phone, so you didn’t think much of it and just did as he said.

Laying there prettily on the couch watching some random movie on the TV in one of Leon’s shirts. It smelt like him and it just made you miss your owner even more. With his musk and cologne right on your nose because the article of clothing, it was hard not to let your fingers trail downwards to satiate yourself till he came home. But you were a good bunny and knew he would find out, leading to hours of denial instead. You shake the thoughts away and try to focus on the movie instead to forget that ache between your thighs.

Eventually, the door slammed roughly behind Leon when he finally arrived home, hinges squeaking from the abrupt strain. The sound causes you to jump from where you laid on the couch. He hasn’t said anything yet, and so with a twitch of your cotton tail and a cautious approach, you reach for his warm hand.

“O-Owner? Is everything okay?” You question softly, brows knitted as you look up at him.

Pure aggravation radiated off of him, his cock straining against his cargos. It was written all over his face that work was terrible today. Sure, his job wasn’t necessarily fun but it seemed like today was just a really, really bad day.

He releases an agitated sigh, free hand cupping your face and his lips press against yours hard. It’s steamy. Like you’re the ice to cool his heated emotions. He lets his actions speak for him.

You respond back to the kiss immediately, soft lips plush against his as your eyes flutter shut. Every question swirling in your mind about what has him so uptight flying out from Leon’s abrupt kiss.

Leon breathes out, his features tense. "I thought I said to be ready for your owner?”

His pretty blue eyes are dark when he looks into yours and it makes you feel that familiar feeling ignite in your core. Leon's calloused thumb rubs against your cheek gently before his hand teasingly trails down to your throat, his fingers ghosting around it possessively before moving away.

“Y-Yeah… I am.” You nod in a daze from the kiss. The affection making your heart thump from finally seeing the man you missed the most. Even if he was only gone for a few hours that day.

Your owner is the big bad wolf when he looks at you so angrily, so hungry. Strong arms and shoulders tense with frustration and aggression from a shitty day at work.

You know what he needs to make it all melt away. And so you let Leon snatch you up with his bruising hold, like you’re the prey and he’s the predator.

There’s no luxury of the soft blankets and pillows of Leon’s bed. He needed you now, and god, it was so primal how he pressed you against the couch beneath him in the living room. Hands finding purchase on his biceps when he cages you in and pressed harsh kisses and bites to your neck.

Tutting in disapproval, his hands push your thighs against your chest. Eyes widening and cheeks blushing at the stretch you feel in your legs. The gusset of your panties ruined with arousal, Leon lets out a deep groan at the sight.

“Next time,” Leon begins, his hands unsheathing his knife on his tactical belt, the sharp blade glinting in the light of the lamp. With care, he guides the sharpened edge to cut the cute panties off of you, his shirt you wore being cut shortly after as well, which left you bare underneath him.

“I mean that these better not be on you.” He murmurs, the knife sliding back into the sheathe.

You should be frightened by the way he used his blade to cut your clothes off impatiently but all it did was make you thankful he got them off so quickly.

It clicks in your head what his text meant now, but unfortunately, Leon is not in a forgiving mood. His calloused fingertips spank your clit and it’s like electricity sparking through your nerves. You jolt beneath him with a whimper and widened eyes.

“Owner, I didn’t know!” You try to protest.

Leon tuts once more, eye glimmering amused, “Is my poor bunny just as stupid as those rookies? It’s okay baby, I just gotta teach you for next time.”

More lashes of his fingers against your swollen clit follow, back arching with each spank. Your pretty little pussy quivering every time you feel the occasional leather texture of his tactical gloves.

“Good bunny, that’s it.” He praises, letting his digits slide over your wet folds as a reward.

He teases you, spitting right onto your cunny and smearing it all over, making you even more of a mess. His thick fingers spoiling you with such heated touches to your sweet spots.

A needy breathless whimper escapes, “T-Thank you, owner.”

The air is warm, heavy with intensity and you swear it’s almost like you’re in heat. Head gone in the clouds with an affectionate lust filled gaze. Leon always thought you looked so pretty like this. You were always pretty to him. But there was just something how you melted into a puddle of primal desires beneath him.

Slowly, he unbuckles his belt, slipping the long piece of leather out from each belt loop on his pants. He tosses it to the floor by the side of the couch, his own eyes trained on you.

Leon pushed you over onto your tummy and unzipped his trousers before freeing his aching length.

“You can thank your owner a different way.” He huffs, wanting nothing more than burying his pent up cock inside of you.

Your face burns at the position he has you in, features hidden against the cushions of the couch but your body on complete display. Hips raising from instinct, goosebumps form all over your heated skin when you feel one hand caressing your hip, knowing his other hand was occupied with smearing his precum all over his cock.

Leon groans deeply, lining the flushed tip of his cock with your needy entrance. His chest rising and falling with heavier breathes now. Leon’s gloved hand moves from your hip and up to the round stubby cotton tail above your plush rear.

A stuttered moan slipping when he grabs it but it’s quickly transformed into a lewd squeal when he uses it as leverage to yank you back and onto his cock.

No matter how many times your owner breeds and fucks you, there’s always a pleasurable stretch that makes your toes curl and your breath run away from your lungs.

Your sloppy little bunny pussy was molded and trained by him, there was no doubt about it. It causes his teeth to gnash together as a long guttural moan draws from his lips. His abdomen tensing at the relief of being inside his precious little breeding bunny after such a long day.

You whimper out sweetly, “Owner, please. I’ve missed you so much. Please move…”

Even if Leon wanted to instantly start pumping his leaking cock into your tight warm entrance, he knew he needed a moment. He always did. Each and every time he slid inside, it never failed to make him do a double take and cause him to almost shoot his load right away. He thought he was surely more experienced by now but you did always manage to make him feel younger.

“Mm, fuck.” He grits out. His fingers still curled around that cute cotton tail of yours and he uses it to make you fuck you back onto his fat cock.

The pace is slow and sensual but his grip on your tail is amplifying each drag of his cock against your inner walls, feeling every pulsing vein. It feels good and the only sounds you’re making is helpless whiny moans of pleasure. It’s good, really good, but you need more.

“Owner, c-come on. S’not enough, I need more of you owner.” A pathetic cry for your owner escapes.

He huffs audibly in frustration, “Greedy little bunny.” He places his other hand on your hip for support and snaps his hips harshly into you. “Shut up and fucking take it then.”

Loud slaps of sweaty skin colliding echo throughout the apartment, accompanied by erotic moans and whimpers and husky groans. Shutting up wasn’t an option for you with how his thick cock was filling you up and kissing at your cervix with each precise thrust.

Toes curling in delightful pleasure when he begins to fuck you how you pleaded for him to do. Soft bunny ears flopping around as your generous owner grunts from behind you.

Your jaw falls slack, erotic moans spill and overflow from your lips. “Owner, mm! I-I love it.”

A breathless chuckle escapes him at your messy slurred speech, completely dumb on his cock. You were being so loud though and you knew better. The apartment walls were paper thin with absolutely no sound proofing.

Strong hands reach for your trembling form, one arm around your waist, while he clamped his free hand around your mouth. Your sweaty nude body pressed back against his clothed chest, you try to whine when you realize he’s still in his work attire but it gets lost against his palm.

“I said shut up and take it didn’t I?” Leon breathes heavily in your ear, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine and your pussy quivering around him. “I don’t need to deal with a noise complaint on top of everything.”

With your torsos upright and pressed against one another, Leon lets his hips buck wildly. His gloved hand concealing your lewd noises. He loved the sound of them, you were like the sweetest songbird to him but now wasn’t the time.

That coil of undeniable release tightens in your core, tears forming in your eyes helplessly. The soft fluff of your bunny tail tickles against his clothed abdomen from the closeness of this position Leon has you in and you’re so close to heaven.

He feels that delicious clench and flutter of your greedy wet cunt around him, he’s right along with you. Heavy sensual breaths fall from your owner, he begins to whimper here and there.

“Fuck, that’s it.” His arm tightens around you.

All of the passion and frustration, the longing and affection comes to a boil, pussy gushing and strangling his cock as you orgasm. Leon keeps rocking his hips, guiding you through your messy release. After only a few more strokes his hold becomes bruising, shooting his warm seed inside and breeding you like a good owner should.

He presses his face into your neck, whining quietly. Fuck, it was always like this. Always milking him with that perfect pussy of yours. Neither of you would ever be satisfied with a partner that isn’t each other.

“Need it again, cum on my cock again.” He groans out.

Leon lets his fingers slip into your mouth and his other arm relax so he could reach down and rub messy circles on your sensitive clit, making you squeal. He wanted to go again but between the shit day at work and then coming straight home to breed the stress away. He would need some time, definitely wanting to fuck you to sleep later but he also wasn’t gonna stop till he felt you squirm and clamp down on his dick again.

Your head falls back as your cry out in pleasure, thighs twitching and trembling. Swollen clit so sensitive after just finishing but it made it feel so good at the same time. Leon rubs and caresses the most delicious circles with the perfect amount of pressure, the callouses on his hardworking hands causing that coil to form rapidly again.

“Owner, owner, oh my god!” You whimper incoherently, spit coating his fingers as Leon continues to silence your moans.

He pinches at your clit and everything falls apart once more. Leon gets what he wanted, relishing in the way he feels your sloppy spent cunt make a mess all over him and squeeze down.

Your hips jerk, helplessly squirming in pleasure while your second orgasm washes over and causes all your nerves to be sent into overdrive. Leon held you up with care, making sure your shaking form is supported.

“Good baby, so good for me.” Leon cooed, breathing still a bit labored.

When the quivering that accompanied your afterglows calms, he finally helps you to lay down and relax on the couch. Soft gentle kisses are pressed to your cheeks, contrasting to his previous behavior now that he was not as stressed anymore.

You smile sleepily at him, brain still mushy but your senses are coming back slowly but surely. Cheeks and body still warm from the intense passion but your breathing was returning to normalcy.

Leon soothes you, “You did so good for me. Such a sweetheart.”

Caressing your soft long bunny ears and murmuring sweet words to you after the deed. To him, it was one of the most important things to do, to make sure despite his words and actions, he loves you. It’s just the heat of the moment. And well, he knows you like it anyways.

#leon kennedy smut #leon kennedy x fem reader #leon kennedy x fem!reader #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader smut #leon kennedy x fem!reader smut #hybrid!au #bunny!reader

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softlyspector · 5 months

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sated

Summary: Joel just wants you to eat well.

Pairing: Joel Miller x f!vampire!Reader

Word count: ~5.2k

Warnings: love as being consumed, blood drinking, smut from start to finish (piv, f!receiving oral, fingering), Joel's praise kink, talk of eating, consuming, drinking, hunger, etc, vampires you get it.

A/N: This came of an abandoned work I posted, which you can find here. Thank you all for always being encoraging and lovely. I hope you enjoy my vamp and please let me know what you think! Thank you for reading! 💕

Devotion comes naturally to him, maybe that’s why this is so easy.

When you lean over his proffered wrist and sink your teeth into his skin, pleasure fists itself around his spine. The gratification is instant and complete. There’s no wondering if it’s right, if he’s giving you something you really need.

A desperately hungry moan rumbles in the back of your throat, grip tightening on him like you’re worried he might pull away. Already, everything is hazy.

Your hand curls around his forearm, while the other grips his fingers tight, locked between his.

There’s nothing prettier in the world than the way you look when you lift your head after a moment or an eternity passes, eyes full and satiated. Mouth a red slash of his blood. “Stop letting me.” Desperation, pain.

“No.”

He doesn’t want you to have to hunt, or fight, or seduce, your way to what you need. You have him now. You have his blood and body and him and he doesn’t want you with anyone else anyway, even if it’s just to eat.

Even if it’s for nothing more than food.

“Joel—”

The room is dark, lit by the glow of a lamp too far away to cast much light on either of you. Your expression is clouded with want, with lust, pupils blown so wide your eyes appear entirely black.

His blood is leaking in little rivulets down his wrist, over your fingers. It stains the white, satin sheets. The headboard of your bed digs into his spine where he leans against it, still in his jeans but removed of everything else.

Everything is bloody, everything is you and him, stained and caressed and creased, brined, torn into. It would be butchery if it weren’t so beautiful.

Each time you pull away from him, he expects to see flesh in your teeth, his heart on your tongue still beating.

You kiss him instead, his own blood in his mouth. To him, it’s just iron and salt, like sucking on a penny. A little bit gross on its own.

You tell him, sometimes, that he tastes sweet. Like candy? He’d asked one, a joke, a haze of pleasure pulled like wool over his eyes.

No, you’d said, not that strong. Like fruit, I guess, if I remember right.

He doesn’t know how old you are, how long it’s been since you tasted fruit. Doesn’t matter, will never matter.

His blood on your mouth, though, is intoxicating. He’s already woozy with the loss of it, with the quiet injection of something that makes everything go foggy and needy. It’s a reminder that you are a predator choosing not to kill him, that whatever poison came with your bite was meant to make him easy to slaughter.

Joel pulls you in tight, slides his tongue into your mouth. It’s sticky. Blood dries quick and tacky, it pulls at his skin where you fit yourselves together. It’s messy on your mouth, stains your hands and his.

He pulls you into his lap and you move easily with the tug of his hands. Knees fitted to either side of his hips, you pull away to lick up the blood on his forearm, the slide of your tongue causing an ache to open up in the pit of his belly.

Joel asked you, once, what being hungry felt like.

You’d hummed and stroked his cheek, eyes considering and far away. You’d told him it didn’t feel much like the human hunger you remembered, but like pain. It hurt, burned in your chest like a hurtful fire that could not be put out.

And maybe that had been your mistake. Admitting to the pain.

Maybe he wouldn’t be so keen on sacrificing himself if he wasn’t aware of how much it hurt you to be hungry.

Joel pulls your head up, away from his arm, and tilts his own back, exposing his throat.

The tip of your tongue runs over your lips instead, something desperate and famished in your eyes.

It’s not so much an offering as a welcoming, a demand. He wants you to. He wants you to feed until you can’t take anymore, until that bright burning finally fades away and you aren’t hungry anymore.

“No,” you say and shake your head, voice despairing, want fading from your gaze. “I can’t, Joel, I—” Your eyes flick to his open invitation, his throat, his collarbone. You wince and glance away. Guilt eats away at your expression. His throat is purple with bruising from the night before when you had refused to take more than one tiny drink. Starving yourself for reasons he won’t make himself understand.

It bothers you, the bruise, he knows it does, but it shouldn’t. It’s just evidence that you’re eating good.

“Yes,” he says, voice hoarse. “If y’need it.”

“I don’t,” you snap suddenly, the snarl in your voice another reminder. You could decide he wasn’t worth the trouble anymore and drain him dry, snap his neck. It’s an odd feeling. He’s not used to being at someone else’s mercy, not used to being so obviously the weaker of a pair. “I used to go months without,” your voice hitches, like you might cry. “I’m fine.”

“Y’don’t have to go without anymore.”

He feels frenzied about it. He needs you to believe it, that he can be useful to you.

You do this all the time. You do this every time. Fret about him when he knows he can take it, he knows that he can give you this.

He moves, curls over you, presses you flat back onto the sheets and you let him. Mouth nestled against the hollow of your throat where no pulse beats. There is only slightly cooler than normal skin under his lips, smooth and perfect and firm. Joel curls his fingers around your wrist, pins your hand to the bed.

“I can’t, Joel,” you moan. The sound vibrates against his lips. You might not have a heart that beats, but your lungs still fill with air, the desperate pump of them more than enough to know how badly you’re affected by him, how much you want and how much he can give you. “I can’t. I’ll. . .I’ve taken too much already.”

He doesn’t get to answer, your mouth is already at his throat, the sharp, sweet pang of your bite sliding into muscle and sinew. You suck harshlyand his vision goes blurry, eyes rolling back at the pleasure that chases the pain. He just manages to catch himself on his other hand before he can collapse fully against you.

Maybe he’s just a little selfish with it, with the need to give mixed up with how fucking good it feels. That’s the pure awful truth of it. It feels good. Every feeling, every sensation is heightened.

He’s letting you eat but it's for him, too. And that’s just fucking shameful but he can’t stop either.

You’re wearing something silk, something with lots of skin showing, something pretty and now stained with his blood. Your skin is soft and impossibly smooth beneath his hands, the plush curve of your thighs parting to let him nestle against you, the bowl of your hips accommodating him.

Joel presses his hips against yours, slowly ruts against your core, the heat that bleeds out of your body. Heat that will fade over the next few hours, heat that he’s given you with the blood from his veins, that you still take from his body with needy swallows, and pleased whimpers.

He works at his jeans with one hand, fingers clumsy with the black that encroaches at the edge of his vision as you feed. You thread your fingers through his hair, keeping him tucked close, hips chasing his, rolling up to meet his.

You pull away from his throat with a pained groan, and the ache returns immediately.

He wants you to keep going. He could survive, he thinks, with just one drop. That’s all he needs.

“No,” you say. But your eyes are glutted, satiated. You sound drunk and maybe that’s what makes him realize he’s a poison to you too, something you have to try very hard not to sink your teeth into and rip, tear. “No more, Joel. Please.”

He can be good for you, give you everything you need so you never want again. That makes him delusional with giving.

Your fingers wrap loosely around the base of his cock, guiding him to your entrance, dripping with need and want of a different kind. He slides into you slow, the hug of your body around him addictive, until you’ve taken him to the hilt and there’s nothing but you. “Christ, darlin’,” he mutters, vision going properly black now, consciousness fading. “Feel ‘s good.”

“Hey.” Concern in your voice, knee pressed to his hip, the strength of your body turning him onto his back. “You did good,” you praise, gentle, blood soaked fingers against his bare chest, the underside of his jaw where the flesh is soft. “So good. Take a second.”

Your hand is pressed delicately to his cheek; you’re beautiful and sleek above him and he has the sense that some time has passed when he’s able to focus on you. “Hey,” you say again, the cushion of your voice soft. You cradle his bloody hands in yours, fingers stroking his wrists slowly, before you press them to your waist, hips moving slowly against his again.

The tight clench of your cunt around him is nearly painful, the rock of your hips so slow, like you’re testing the waters of him.

He’s good, he wants to say. Fine. But your praise is ringing in his ears. Your mouth is red with blood, teeth stained when your lips pull back. “Good,” he echoes, the word settling heavily in his chest. You think he did good.

“Yeah. Really good,” you say. “That’s what you wanna hear isn’t it? That you did good for me?”

The tangle of pleasure coursing through weak limbs only curls more firmly around his spine and knots in his belly when you lift his wrist to your lips again, mouthing away the blood, but not biting. “I’m so full,” you murmur against his skin, eyes flickering closed. “You’ve fed me so well.”

“Jesus,” he mutters, watching you suck the blood from his skin, eyes closed, body never faltering in the pace you set grinding against him. The tension has faded from your shoulders, your skin is warm with the glow of life, so he knows you’re telling the truth. When you bite him this time, wrist cradled to your mouth, the pain is dull and far away.

There’s no hunger as you take this time, no desperate pull; you eat because you can, lazily and slowly; tasting.

He drags his free hand up your side, cups the weight of your breast in his hand, before he tugs the strap of the silken gown down your arm. You release his hand, so he can pull the fabric slowly down your body until it pools around your hips.

Blood smears across your skin in shiny streaks, his open palm pressed flat against your chest dripping red again.

Your body reacts to his, supple and soft, moving with him when he cants his hips up, chasing something just out of reach.

He thought you’d be hard, the first time. That your skin would be solid, like nipping into stone. But it’s not, and right now you’re flush with warmth he gave you, shiny and bright. The curves of you are soft in his hands.

Joel wants you to say it again. Wants to hear that you’re satisfied, that he gave enough for you to feel full. His vision wavers and tunnels again. You rub his wrist between your fingers, gently staunching the flow of blood.

“You gave enough.” Fingers planted on his chest, hips lifting and falling, pleasure like a tide, like the salt of the ocean. His mouth tastes like the blood you put there, the venom that leaches from your teeth, saccharine sweet.

You lean over him, one hand on the headboard, the other beside his head. “Good for me,” you murmur, mouth pressing hungrily to his, the point of your tongue laving against the seam of his lips. He groans into you, fucks up into you so you gasp into his mouth.

He’d let you take a chunk of his heart out, wrap his veins around your fingers and tug them out of his body one by one, gnaw on a rib, if it meant you weren’t hungry anymore, if it meant you were never in pain.

There’s no pain in your face now, nothing wan or drawn about you. No hollows beneath your eyes or distance in your gaze. The clench of your expression is undeniably pleasure. He leaves bloody fingerprints behind on your skin, cups your breasts in his hands, thumbs stroking the taut peaks of your nipples until you whine.

The weakness that comes with the loss of blood is a drug all its own. He feels closer to you, further away from his own body, the thrum of need a sensation that doesn’t belong to him, that curls firm and hard in his belly and spreads slowly out into the rest of him, like lazy vines of an invasive species.

“Joel,” you say against his mouth, all copper and iron, like the touch of a blade to his throat.

It’s better, for both of you, when you’re feeding. He wants you to bite him again. Just one more time.

He pushes you back, rolls until you’re on your back.

“Joel—”

And this time your voice is sharp and reproving. You think he’s too weak with the blood loss, he knows it.

He thrusts into you and your mouth pockets into a little o, fingers scrabbling at his biceps. He sets a brutal pace, makes you forget whatever protest you might have had.

You’re so good for him, tight and wet, thighs slick against him when you hook your knee against his hip. Joel slows, drags his cock slowly out of you, just to push back in all at once, right to the root.

“Feel s’good,” he mutters against you, mouth lowered to your chest to sucks one tight nipple into his mouth. You jolt and arch into him, a moan tearing out of your throat. “Shit,” he thrusts again and again, pushing you up the bed before he curls his forearm over the top of your head, his other hand cupping the back of your neck, gently turning your head. “Bite, baby,” he says, desperate. “Bite.”

You shake your head, hips rolling up to meet his. “No.”

“Yes. One more time.” The sound of you is sloppy, his cock soaked in your needy cunt. His vision is blurring again, the effort to keep fucking you killing him, figuratively and maybe literally.

His heart feels like it's going to beat out of his fucking chest, a warning from every instinct a person should have warning him danger danger danger predator predator predator.

He doesn’t heed it, doesn’t have the good sense to run away. Danger and predator sounds like understanding, sounds like kin and home and acceptance, to him.

“Makes it better, y’know it does. You’re so good for me. Give it here, honey. Just this. Just bite, nothin’ else.” He sounds delirious and deranged but you whine and he’s reminded again, has that thought again, he’s as much a drug to you as you are to him. You just need a little coaxing. “C’mon, baby. Please, darlin��.”

He urges your head closer, feels the brush of your mouth, the prick of your teeth, and then finally that wonderful fucking rush of your incisors sinking deep into his skin.

There’s pleasure, and there’s sex, and then there’s this.

And he knows you know it too, blurred vision going white from how hard he comes inside you, the fist of your pussy clenching around him as you follow him over the edge. You cry out against his skin, a sound he’s never heard before, the points of your nails digging into his shoulders until he’s sure he’s bleeding there, too.

He feels the release of your teeth from his bicep, the gasp of your mouth, and then he collapses against you and kisses his own hot blood away from your mouth, open wounded vein spilling red across both of you.

Joel sleeps and when he wakes, he knows he isn’t done with you. You consume him, he wants to do the same to you.

He slides his tongue through your soaked folds, the mess of himself leaking from you. He presses his nose against your heat and then your thigh.

It must be some predator thing, the way you smell, to attract that which you should kill. If he could, he’d bite you there, the vein that runs under the skin of your thigh. He’d sink his teeth into you there, and drink. If he was like you, that is where he’d take from you. But he’s not, and if he was, he would not take from you.

He’d starve first.

“You don’t want that,” you say, hands in his hair. “You don’t want this.”

He doesn’t answer.

“It’s terrible, Joel,” you murmur. “To be this lonely.”

“I’m lonesome anyway,” he presses his teeth against your skin again. “And gettin’ older and lonelier every minute.”

He doesn’t want to be like you, not really. But he doesn’t want you to leave him either, and he doesn’t want to die one day and leave you alone. He wants to tangle his fingers inside your chest, bring the beat of your heart back to life. He wants to dig two graves, yours and his, next to each other.

Joel doesn’t say any of that, and before you can say anything, he shoves your legs back toward your chest, spreads you open wide. The muscle in the back of your thigh twitches, a lazy moan slips past your lips when he repositions on aching knees to suction his mouth to your pussy.

He closes his eyes and presses his hands against the backs of your knees. Your fingers dig into his hair, drag him closer, push him further into you. A broken groan slices through the air when he pushes his tongue into you.

He thinks about your teeth locked around his throat, like a wolf with prey. His scalp smarts with how hard you’re tugging at his hair. It’s good to be at your mercy.

“Joel.”

There’s a drag in the vowels of his name, a desperation, a burning in his chest with the sound of it. He pulls back to look at you, to skim his fingers along the backs of your thighs.

“Hm?”

“What do I taste like?”

He lowers your hips to the bed, presses his fingers inside you instead.

Before he can answer, you look at him with big, thirst slaked eyes. “Do you like it? The way I taste?”

“Mm,” he hums. Your cunt clenches around his fingers. He fucks you like that laguidly, feeling every part of you, the inside of you soft against he pads of his fingers. “Yeah. I like it.”

Joel leans down, presses his forehead to yours, eyes never leaving your gaze. The essence of you is caught in his beard, and it’s only when he rubs his chin against yours, that your eyes slide closed. This close, everything smells red. Like blood and come and sex; your breath is cool and sweet, like fresh air against his mouth.

He wants to drink the air from your lungs. Instead, he kisses you long and soft, pumping his fingers in and out of your pussy, rubs his thumb across your messy clit.

You still taste like life, but he hopes you can taste yourself, too. A gasp catches in your throat, fingers hooking against the back of his neck, twisting up into his hair.

“Tell me. I want you to tell me.”

It’s different to anyone else he’s ever tasted, probably another predator-prey thing. Intoxicating, addicting. “Bitter,” he replies. “N’ sweet.”

Your mouth opens against his, and he pulls away to slide down your body again, tongue against the bitter-sweet of your slick. “Like you, then,” you mumble. “We taste the same.”

Wouldn’t that be something? “Ain’t like that, most like.”

You are more bitter than sweet, he’d say, opposite to how his blood is for you. Opposite to how he’d describe you and him, if pressed. For a self described monster, you are sweet.

He feels when you come against his tongue, the pulse and clench of your pussy, dripping against his lips. He likes it too much, how you taste like him, too, that his come leaks from you with the second and third waves of pleasure that arch your hips from the bed

The exhaustion sneaks up on him, sudden and painfully demanding, real. And all at once, he feels like a man that’s lost too much blood.

He feels your hands maneuvering him, limbs readjusted gently, pushed onto his back, sheets and a blanket pulled up around him. Your hands pressing across his chest and neck and cheeks, like you’re trying to assess something and he guesses you are because you whisper. “Joel? Baby, stay awake for a minute. Are you warm? I can’t tell. I—”

You’re worried about him.

Ferocious predator. Monster then could end his life in a split second, but that he chose to feed instead. That makes you his vicious monster, he would guess. And you’re worried. Worried. About him.

He folds his hand around yours, holds your still warm fingers against his chest. “‘M fine.”

Joel is dedicated to you in a way that frightens you. He is so willing to lie down and open his own throat.

That had so surprised you, the first time. You’d picked him out because he was big and strong, protective and swollen with a kind of love you couldn’t put your finger on. You had just wanted a fight and a little taste, not to take anything more. No, not this one.

You’d thought his blood might be bitter and biting, like poison with age, but it hadn’t been. Everything about Joel had surprised you. How quickly he had offered himself up, addicted to your monstrousness in a way you still don’t quite understand.

It makes you feel guilty, shameful.

He doesn’t know how he jolts in your arms when you bite him, doesn’t know how his muscle twitches in pained little starts when you’ve taken too much, doesn’t know how far away his eyes can go.

You’re hungry, baby, he always says, like that’s enough. It’s enough that you’re hungry and he can feed you.

And you are hungry, and it feels good to have someone give to you so freely, and so you take what he wants to give you. There’s some part of you that knows it satisfies him, too, to be able to give, and to be able to give something so tangible and physical, that he feels it afterwards, the labor of his giving.

You worry all the time, that it’s too much, that in the mornings the haze of desire and need to give would fade and he’d look around and see the blood and the bruises and your teeth coated in his life, and he would finally understand and finally leave you behind.

He looks peaceful in the sunshine that curls in through the window. It’s unfortunate, the bruises on either side of his throat, on his wrist and bicep. He looks pale, and you know that you will not be able to take from him again for a while, no matter how much you might want to.

And Joel needs time to recover, whether he wants that or not.

Your favorite little human, who decided to love a monster, who decided he would like to see one happy and sated.

The burn of hunger is satiated so well, the burn and ache in your chest gone for the time being.

You worry it might have been too much but he breathes evenly, deeply, soundly. Rust red streaks coat his skin, the palms of his hands and his chest, the space above his heart.

How you’d like to wriggle your nails carefully between his ribs, feel the slick beat of his heart in your hand. If you could figure out a way to do it without killing him, you would. You’d hold his heart in the light, watch the pulse of it like the breath of a sleeping pet.

He sleeps, and doesn’t know how hard it is for you not to drain him dry, not to suck the very marrow from his bones, to pick him clean like the carrion bird, the vulture, you are.

Before Joel, even draining a body down to nothing, exsanguinating them, wouldn’t have been enough to ease the visceral burn in your chest. You always seemed to need more and more. More bodies, more blood, more human lives. Not with him.

Maybe his blood is better for you, more nutritious, saturated with something that’s better at satiating you. His blood is always enough even if you have to fight not to take it all.

Perhaps it's just that the edge of your loneliness isn’t so sharp, that you wake not in a guilty, terrible haze next to a corpse, but next to someone who cares for you enough to feed you pieces of himself.

You touch his bearded jaw and a muscle in his cheek twitches, the sleep he’s in an exhausted one. Still, he sucks in a sharp breath, eyes flicking open. The warmth of his skin clouds around you, scent changing with his wakefulness.

Joel smells nice, always.

He smells nice in the morning sunlight spilling through the bay window. Humans have a way of absorbing smells. Things they shouldn’t be able to smell like—sunshine, storms, city streets. They smell sleepy and tired and happy and everything in between.

Joel smells warm like the sun he lies half in a patch of, the cotton sheets, the lavender detergent. He smells sleepy and content and that makes another kind of ache curl around your heart. More visceral, perhaps, than any thirst ever could be.

Beneath that, the other smells, the ones that make your mouth water—beautifully warm blood, subtly sweet and bitter, salt, come. He smells like you, your blood and come, and that’s something you inexplicably like.

His eyes are pretty in the sun, his lashes lowered, casting shadows over his warm brown irises, his cheeks, as he watches you. “Mornin’,” he says and his voice grates. It’s like you can hear every single stretched scratch of it in his throat.

You can see each fine line and hair and wrinkle on his face. Each tiny mark, every scar and pinch of skin. He’s painfully, beautifully human. It’s nice though, you like looking at those things. They make him interesting. They make you ache for something out of your reach. He’s so pretty, the thick, corded muscle in his arms twisting when he stretches, veins a prominent blue-green.

It’s unfortunate, so unfortunate, that this one, the one you like so well, will die so sooner than the others you used to feed on.

Grief punches you in the chest, debilitating in its sudden awfulness.

But you force it down and smile. “Good morning, Joel.”

You reach for him and curl your hand around his wrist. The beat of his heart is steady against your palm. It thrums, strong and so full of life, it makes the mourning surge in the back of your throat. It feels like holding his heart in your hand.

There is a game you’ve been playing for years, decades. One where you must struggle and kill to get what you need. You try not to kill them, if you can help it, but sometimes it just can’t be helped.

It’s a lonely existence, with connections that last a minute. No family, no friends. Just those precious few minutes with your teeth sunk into soft skin. Sometimes, they’d pull you closer, inadvertently.

Joel is dangerous for you. He pulls you so close, so often, and offers himself to you. There is no fight, no hunt, no seducing. It’s almost the other way around. He’s so desperate for you to take from him, to take care of you.

“Y’good?”

“Yes. You?”

“‘M good. Tired, a bit.”

“Okay.” You nod. “You need to eat. And I will not feed from you again until you recover. Your red blood cells need to replenish,” you chatter. “Or you’ll become anemic.”

He smiles. “All right. How d’ya know all a’ that?”

“Google.”

“Mm. Worried?”

“Always.”

“How long’s that take? Replenishin’. . .whatever?”

You bring his hand to your lips, press a kiss there and watch his chest hitch. “Four to six weeks. I’ll be okay in that time,” you add before he can comment.

“Christ,” he mutters, like he’s cursing his own body for doing what bodies do. “I don’t like that.”

You kiss his bruised wrist and lower it to the bed. You feel so full there is no urge to drink, to bite, that you have to fight. “Let me get you something to eat,” you say, brushing a hand through his peppered hair, trailing your fingers down his cheek. “Get this blood off you.”

It’s dried in patches on his skin, sloughing off in russet flakes.

You make him pick out something to eat and then call for takeout. And maybe it’s a testament to how tired he is that he lets you urge him into the adjoining bathroom while you wait, that he lets you take care of his clearly spent body. He’s unbelievably pale beneath his beard, the little tangles of hair at the back of his neck. His whole throat is purple, and you hear in his voice how it must ache.

“I don’t mean to bite you that hard,” you murmur, white washcloth pink with his blood in your hand. You smooth it down the curve of his cheek. “I’m sorry.”

“S’ just a little sore,” he dismisses. A beat of silence passes, and then he adds, “Feels good. When y’do it. Don’t hurt then.”

“It feels good?”

“Mm. Swear it does.”

You finish with his face and think you should just let him shower while you wait for his food, but you like taking care of him like this, wiping away the evidence of your brutality. “Describe it.”

“What’s it feel like to you?”

Ecstasy, you think. “A little bit like coming,” you say to hear him laugh, feel the blush of his manners stain his skin pink beneath your hands.

“Yeah, I’d say that’s about right.”

You lean in to kiss him, the warmth of his mouth against your cool lips, cheeks cradled in palms that never mean to hurt, teeth that never mean to bite so hard.

“Good,” he says, “So, it’s good all around.”

“Good,” you echo.

And maybe it is.

💕 Whew! Thank you for reading! I would love to hear any thoughts you might have! 💕

#joel miller x reader #joel miller x you #tlou fanfiction #the last of us fanfiction #posting and running away

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dumbsoftheart · 4 months

Text

threads of fate

pairing: peacekeeper!coriolanus snow x preachers daughter!reader

tags: 18+, mdni. dub-con, heavy and dark religious themes, dark themes, fingering, kissing, swearing, sliiight voyerism, corruption and innocence kink,

summary: after a chase in the woods, coriolanus becomes devoted to making you his one and only follower.

notes: i don't know what came over me.. enjoy!

word count: 7.2k

౨ׅৎ

the blood of the lamb, washed over the sins of those strayed away from god, atones those begging to be spared from destruction. the saccharine ichor was the ultimate gateway towards deliverance- and thus sought out by sinners and saints alike to be granted eternal redemption for the transgressions that permeated the sweats and tears of the individuals whose secrets would have them damned to the dreadful inferno beneath their feet. the sweet lamb; symbol of innocence and purity, and the wolf who hunted it, the face of deception and treachery, stood now in the heart of the woodlands, the sweet kill hidden shamefully in the asylum of the crowded aspen as it’s predator tauntingly whistled in pursuit of it’s coveted prize.

tears fell in a waterfall down into the vessels of your collarbones, trailing down and staining the frail white fabric of your dress, unveiling the soft tanned skin of your chest in its wake. with one hand clasped tightly against your mouth, you tried to conceal your wails of fear and the threatening thumping of your heart so as not to draw attention to the towering figure looming dangerously close to you, chuckling lowly as he carefully made his way through the maze of trees and forestry. your other hand was clutched desperately on the golden cross that hung around your neck, thumb haphazardly caressing the delicate engravings and etchings of the cool metal.

hail mary, full of grace, the lord is with thee. blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, jesus. holy mary, mother of god, pray for us sinners now, and at the hour of death.

shame washed over you as you thought of your mother and father- your dear father, and what they would make of your inevitable disappearance. you were taught the way of the lord since you emerged from your mothers womb; it followed you everywhere you went. by all means, you had lived your life for god himself. what would he think of you now? the unrighteous will not inherit the kingdom of god. and yet there you were, a thief, running from, no doubt, god’s punishment for your sins.

despite your fathers widespread fame throughout the district, your family struggled to bring food and water to the table regularly. seeing the despair that clouded your mothers eyes as she failed to provide a dinner some nights for her family had driven you towards madness. you grew desperate- desperate to alleviate the stress that haunted her and satiate the hunger that settled in your stomach for the fifth day in a row. you rationalised, that with your undying devotion, god would find it in him to forgive you. with all the work your father put into his sermons and dedication to delivering god's word to the poverty stricken peoples of district 12, the divine being would be forgiving in his punishment in recognition of the loyalty you harboured.

now, you knew you were wrong.

you berate yourself for even entertaining the stupid idea of pilfering from the small bakery near the marketplace. in truth, it wasn’t even stealing. you had waited until dark threatened the sky, then snuck behind the establishment to snatch a few meagre, stale loaves that had been carelessly discarded in a small bin beside the refuse receptacles. combined with the butter you had been gifted earlier in the week, these provisions would barely suffice to stifle the persistent pangs in your stomach for a few days, at most. you naively assumed you were in solitude and hastily fled when you’d filled up your small leather bag with as many old rolls and loaves as possible.

oh, how wrong could you have been? you never caught sight of the face of the man who now charged after you- only a faint glance at a familiar blue that weaved its way through the trees- but the adrenaline rushing through your veins urged you to run, and to never stop. and now, here you were, caught in the act, pathetically weeping as you waited for the repercussions of your actions to find you.

you moved to press your back harder against the thin trunk of the tree, a twig snapping under the weight of your foot, and your eyes widened with fear as the sound reverberated against the still of the forest, the soft footsteps that trailed behind you coming to an abrupt stop. then, a voice.

“my dear, it would make it so much easier for us if you just came out. i promise you, i don’t bite.” it purred. the way he spoke was low and unrecognisable, laced with an amusement that had you shiver with the depravity of it. your crying ceased at an attempt to remain as hidden as possible, nary a whimper escaping from behind the painful grip of your hand across your mouth.

“i know you know what you did was wrong. i mean, stealing from a bakery? i wonder what your father would think of you now, his daughter a thief.”

you fought back tears at the mention of your father, shame once again weighing at your conscience, “come out, and i promise your punishment won't be as harsh as it should be.”

the proposition had you thinking for a bit, the truth behind the words appealing to you for a sliver of a moment. before you could consider your next step; find an out or comply to the omnipresent man’s offering, a gunshot pierces your ears, and you let out a shriek so loud you swore all of panem could hear you.

you begin to wail again then, uncontrollably, screaming and begging for respite as your body gave in under the weight of itself; your knees buckling and falling harshly against the ground. you shake with the ferocity of a small rodent before you’re pulled up by your shoulders and engulfed into a familiar, warm hug. your eyes wide with panic, you thrash your head back in forth in an attempt to find the man who was tormenting you, only to see that he was now gone, and in his place, a small search party lead by a peacekeeper cheered in glory at the sight of you. relief washed over you as you looked up to find your father, falling into the safety of his arms as he escorted you out of the forest, giving a curt thank you to the peacekeeper and another man you recognized to be one of your fathers students, before dragging you to the comfort of your home.

౨ׅৎ

when your father found out the reason behind your being in the woods, you’d landed yourself a life of extra chores and punished to more frequent church visits until your father decided you had repent enough. your father, reassuring you of god's forgiveness as his child, warned that your actions wouldn't fade from memory. he emphasised the necessity of restoring your relationship with the lord and savior. you were under his constant watch, now. each morning, before dropping you off at school, he compelled you to pray fervently for protection over your family and yourself, urging you to plead for deliverance from the consequences of your actions.

with your increased presence in church taking up most of the time you had to yourself, you found yourself taking note of the other frequent church goers. your father, of course, and his dedicated student, were a constant in your peripheral vision. the old couple who lived only a few minutes away from you, mrs. harmon and her froofy, dirty church outfits, her boisterous children, and her grumbling husband. you noticed small things; like how the wife of the newly-wed couple in town had stopped wearing her wedding ring, and how her husband seemed to never give her a second look. how the twin boys in the grade below you suddenly surpassed you in height, and their younger sister now seemed to lack a certain innocence that was pertinent in her character before. you made a small promise to yourself to pray for her.

there was one person, however, who you were not familiar with, yet you could feel it in the deep ends of your bones that you knew exactly who he was. he had begun to appear only once a week, his shiny buzzcut and blue peacekeeper uniform sticking out sorely from the rest of the crowd. then, twice a week- then three- and then suddenly you found you could not escape from him. everywhere you turned, he was there. when you walked home from school, you would catch him patrolling somewhere nearby, or laughing and chatting with his peacekeeper friends. when you opened the church doors for mass, he would be first to walk in, handing you a small smile before making his way to sit in the pew farthest away from you. he was there, everywhere you looked, and it unsettled you greatly. there was a lack of sincerity in his eyes when he smiled, and for a moment you thought that it had seemed like hunger, but you pushed the idea away before your brain could process it. one night, when closing the church doors and heading to your home, the small sound of rapid footsteps triggered your fight or flight response, the latter winning. when the man rested his hand on your shoulder politely, handing you a handkerchief you had dropped, you felt a strange sense of deja vu. the speed at which it sounded he had ran towards you didn’t match how he stood before you now; breathing even, chest pushed out pridefully, his dark sapphire eyes never leaving yours. but you were so sure that the man had been sprinting, just like the man who had sprinted after you a few weeks ago had. you gave him a small thank you before speed-walking your way to the front door, panting heavily as you locked it shut behind you and your hand made its way back to the pendant on your neck, grasping it so tightly it hurt, the stipe digging into the soft flesh of your palms as a way of grounding yourself back to your senses.

that night, when you got on your knees to pray, you couldn’t shake the look on the mans face from your thoughts. his features themselves were even, lacking any sense of emotion, but his eyes troubled you the most. the way they bore into yours made you feel as if you would burst into flames right then. it made you feel as if there was something he wanted from you, but your poor innocent soul couldn’t figure out what. when you nestled yourself into your bed that same night, you vowed to stay as far away from him as possible.

you hadn't realised how hard that would be.

he approached you the next morning. it was saturday, and the usual gloomy weather of district 12 had been forced away and replaced with the harsh, bright sunlight. it shone spectacularly through the stained-glass windows, gracing the dark wood of each side aisle with vibrant reds and yellows and blues and brightening the deep red carpet that lay evenly along the nave. you stood behind the pulpit, readying your fathers sermons and homilies for that week's sabbath. he had barged in unannounced, making his way towards you slowly as you pretended to ignore the tall figure making its way down the red path.

“good morning, miss,” he spoke lowly towards you, peering upwards slightly as the pulpit was slightly taller than the rest of the church, and you pretended to read through the cards and flip through your bible as if it were you preparing to speak in a mere 15 minutes. he cleared his throat once, and you waved your hand nonchalantly towards the pews, “the preacher will be ready shortly. please, have a seat.”

from behind your fathers flashcards, you could see a small tick of his jaw and he pressed his lips together tightly, nodding slowly before making his way to his usual seat, feigning interest in the architecture of the building.

“its quite beautiful, no?”

you hummed.

“i wonder how the district could afford to pay for it.”

the comment caught you off guard, causing you too look up at him with scrunched brows, your lips parted in confusion. surely, he knew the capitol had paid for it- and even then, what did it matter? a sanctuary for god deserved only the best of resources, you thought. the beauty of the church was a reflection of the beauty of your religion, the intricacies and meticulous carpentry of the building spoke to one of the three transcendentals that point to god. of course, it would be beautiful.

before you could think of a response to the bizarre musing, your father burst in, pressing a light kiss to your cheek and thanking you kindly for preparing for him. the man stood up to make his way to greet the preacher, and you were out of sight as fast as lightning.

that cycle continued for a while. he would sit in the pews, admiring the architecture (when really, he was admiring you), then stand to greet your father enthusiastically, frowning ever so slightly when you disappeared the moment he made any closer to your father. eventually, you had become quite good at avoiding him. you saw him less in the markets, saw less of him in church, and rarely caught sight of him anywhere else. that was, until you found him at your doorstep one hot summer day.

you and your mother swore it was the hottest day to see district 12, and you sat on the porch in a small, lace trimmed top and cut-off jean shorts. your hair was carelessly tossed into an updo to relieve your neck of some heat, and you sat in your fathers old chair as you sipped on some juice your family had been given earlier that day.

you weren’t expecting any visitors that day, so it was safe to say you nearly choked when the man appeared from behind the path of thrush that hid your small home from sight of the church, dressed only in the blue dress pants of his peacekeeper uniform and a thin white shirt, silver dog tag swinging like a pendulum across his chest as he made his way towards you. your father had emerged delighted, mr. snow!, he cheered, patting the man- snow, what a fitting name- on his back and urging him inside. you scrambled to the backdoor and into the kitchen where your mother rest, the door slamming behind you loudly as you entered, causing her to jump.

“dear?”

“that man daddy’s talking to- who is he?”

she gave you a halfhearted shrug, “i wouldnt know, pumpkin, it’s probably business with your father. he goes to the church, no?”

you nodded, pacing back and forth, ignoring the crazed look your mother threw at you as you processed the information.

“do not lead us into temptation, but deliver us from evil,” she reminded you, and your jaw dropped at the silent accusation she threw at you.

“absolutely not, mother!” you stormed back out the door, drowning your mother’s laughter out with frustrated mumbles of has she lost her mind? and what a woman! how she could ever think something about snow was tempting you was beyond your understanding. however, when you made it back to your chair and your watered down glass of juice, the sight of a shirtless ‘mr. snow’ and your, otherwise fully dressed, father in the garden, dripping sweat shamelessly into your mothers vegetable patch, a snap thought breached your mind that perhaps there was something tempting about the mysterious man.

that sent you into a frenzy. your knee bounced anxiously as you silently begged god to forgive you for the thought, and that it was simply intrusive, and not reflective of the morals and high grounds you held closely to your heart. nervously, you grabbed the book you had abandoned weeks ago and shoved your nose into the pages as if to distract yourself from your own brain and its wicked ministrations.

you weren't sure of how much time had passed, yet it felt like the man's stay was suspiciously short as he and your father made their way inside. you gave him a curt nod, and your father gave you a small lecture about manners, insisting that the two of you become accustomed to one another. and there you were, legs drawn up to your chest as if to protect yourself from the sinful looking man before you.

“my name is coriolanus snow,” he said. coriolanus. it was unlike any name you’d heard before. you returned the gesture softly, hoping that he would disappear behind your father into the house and you could breathe again, but he stayed and stared at you with that look, “your father tells me we’re the same age. he’s a nice man.”

you bit your lip at that. the same age? there was something about coriolanus that seemed older. it also begged the question: what was someone his age doing as a peacekeeper? you opened your mouth to pry at him, but he cut you off, stepping closer.

“tell me, dear, what sins weigh in your heart?”

you drew yourself back further into the safety of your chair, face laced with disgust as you tried as hard as possible to distance yourself from the imposing man now caging you into your confinement. his breath was heavy on your nose, and your heart pounded harshly- from what, you weren’t sure. fear? a sense of danger? temptation? his lips were so close to yours now, you could smell the faint scent of cologne that mingled with the saltiness of his sweat, and you tried your best to keep your breathing as even as possible, feigning indifference to his proximity to you poorly.

“i dont know what you mean, mr. snow.”

he smiled at that, laughing lowly. he didn’t expect you to know what he meant, of course, but he had an inkling that if he played his cards just right, he’d have you right where he wanted. he leaned closer now, lips dodging yours, lightly brushing your nose as his head turned to whisper in your ear.

“do you think of me at night? our little chase?”

“wh-what?”

“you’re smart, miss. think about it.”

he disappeared into the house, bidding goodbye to your mother and father and whisking himself away. your mouth remained parted, eyes wide with confusion as you tried to process what his words could have meant.

surely, he couldn’t mean..

no. absolutely not, you decided. coriolanus may have unsettled you ungreatly, but he was a peacekeeper- and your father had always told you that they served to protect you, that they would never harm you purposely. you stood shakily and made your way quietly into the old house, reeking of old wood and boiled vegetables. you sat on the couch near your brother, holding his head to your chest as you stroked his hair comfortingly, still trying to process. from the kitchen, your father called, “he’s a nice boy, no? perhaps he could be of some influence to you, sweetheart.”

you agreed meekly, despite disagreeing with your father completely. you werent entirely sure what he saw in the man at all, yet you were adamant that he was, in fact, not a good influence, but a parasite. you wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. he made you feel unsafe- unsure of yourself, and for some reason, your faith. you decided he was no good; but yet you couldnt make any understanding of the bittersweet ache between your thighs.

when coriolanus walked home that evening, he couldn’t fight his smile. he saw you, in all his glory, struggling pathetically under his gaze, squirming and fidgeting uncontrollably as he trapped you within the cage of his arms.

the sacrificial lamb has been caught, he thought.

what a stupid, stupid lamb.

౨ׅৎ

you rushed into church near 5 am the next day, sleep deprived from the constant running of your mind and the damned words of coriolanus snow.

“our father, who art in heaven, hallowed be thy name. thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on earth as it is in heaven,” you repeated to yourself, kneeled below the large wooden crucifixion of jesus, hands clasped tightly together, your head resting painfully against the white of your knuckles.

what you were praying for, you didn’t know. you couldn't go to the confessional- heavens forbid, no. confessing secrets of your dreams of coriolanus’s hands, the outline of his jaw, the way he whispered his sinister words so sweetly into your ear- to your father? you would rather be hanged for the whole district to see. there was nothing sinful about your dreams, exactly, but it felt sinful, dirty, downright hellish. you thought of his lips, the soft and pink flesh of them, the stormy blue of his eyes- and, oh god, you couldn't stop replaying his words in your head.

‘do you think of me at night?’ he had asked you so earnestly. as if he needed you to tell him yes, you did think of him, every night. it wasn't a lie, of course, only the way you had begun thinking about him had changed. but that wasn't your doing at all, was it? no, he was to blame, for speaking to you like that, for dangling his dog tag so close that it brushed your cross indecently, for showing up to your house and stripping himself half naked, sweating impurely over the soil you and your mother sowed and reaped with love, with innocence, purity. it was entirely his fault, from the way he seemed to be forcing himself into your life. the church door creaked open, and you continued to pray, “give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. and lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.”

your heart raced as footsteps neared closer, as if you knew exactly who they belonged to.

“what troubles you, little lamb?” his voice took you with fear, the way it rumbled in his chest and reverberated on the walls confining the two of you, alone. you raised your head, refusing to look back at him, “i do believe that's none of your concern, mr. snow.”

you heard him chuckle lowly, repeating the words mr. snow to himself under his breath. it made you shiver, and you recited the bible verses your father drilled into your head from as young as you could remember: vindicate me, o god, and plead my cause against an ungodly nation; rescue me from deceitful and wicked men.

you could feel him now, knee pressed lightly against your back. you stood up and turned to face him, eyes wild and daring as they searched the azure maze of his own. his hand reached to stroke your hair, and you flinched.

“why is it that you fear me so much, do you think?”

“i’m not afraid of you.”

he tsked, “‘fear’ is different than ‘being afraid’, darling. to be afraid is a fleeting moment. your brain's immediate response towards danger,” he moved to touch your hair again, now more forcefully, tucking the loose strands along your hairline behind your ear.

keep back your servant also from willful sins.

he continued, “i asked, why do you fear me?”

you tried to search deeper into his eyes, trying to grasp any understanding at what he was trying to communicate to you. your mind ran amok, and it was no help that coriolanus's hand now snuck its way into your fingers, fidgeting with the soft digits mindlessly.

“i don't.. i don't know-” he cut you off by stepping closer before you finished. you had wanted to tell him that you didn't know why he thought you feared him, that you didnt understand the question, and that you needed to get home soon, so to please excuse you.

“i think you fear what i impose between you and your precious god.”

you let out an involuntary laugh, giggling childlishly at the accusation. you stopped, when his eyes darkened.

“i’m sorry, mr. snow, but i really don’t know what you mean!” you were struggling to contain your girlish giggles. what he imposes between me and god? it was such a bizarre statement, so plainly laid out for you, that you couldn’t even comprehend it entirely. your laughing ceased, for good now, when his hand circled tightly around your wrist.

let them not have dominion over me.

then i will be upright.

“i’m not stupid, love. i saw you, yesterday, practically drooling over me. i wonder what your father would have to say if he saw the sinful way you ogled at me,” he paused, and you swallowed painfully, “and dont tell me you’ve forgotten all about our little chase, hm? wasnt it exhilarating?” now, panic engulfed you. you tried to back away from him as the pieces etched themselves together in your brain, but his hold on your wrist was only getting tighter.

“that was you?” your voice was impossibly small, weak from the alarm that blared in your head. your eyes darted back and forth desperately, searching for an out, hoping and praying that someone might burst in and see the scene before you, tear hades away from his persephone and save her from her impending doom.

i will be blameless and innocent of great transgression.

he dipped his head to your neck, lips deliciously grazing over the supple skin of your collar bone, pressing kisses so light you could barely feel them as you tried to wriggle from his grasp.

“of course it was me, darling,” the way you felt him smile against your skin was chilling, and you fought back tears as he moved impossibly closer to you, “isn’t that adrenaline rush just addicting? tell me, dove, what do you think about me when you lie in bed and replay our precious little moments together in that pretty head of yours?”

your breathing quickened, and you winced as coriolanus gripped tighter at your wrist, his other hand painfully gripping the small of your waist, massaging the gentle muscle of it. you could feel his entire body pressed against yours, and a tear threatened to slip when you felt the hard pressing of his lower region on your stomach. you shook your head, refusing to give in to his line of questioning, but his grip on your waist tightened and you cried out in pain, “your hands!” you whined, relief slowly making its way to the sore area of your waist as he loosened his grip. he made to grasp your chin under his index, forcing you to keep eye contact with him and urged you silently to keep going.

“your..” you let out a shaky sigh, “your h-ands, your voice, the words you speak to me. i don't understand why.”

he cooed at you now, as if proud of you for speaking up. your eyes darted to his lips, and you saw something flash in his eyes, “anything else?”

let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight,

lord, my rock, and my redeemer.

you tried to look down at your feet as if to run away from the question, but his hold on your chin was unrelenting. shamefully, you whispered, “your lips.”

he let out a small ahhh, as if the admission shocked him. he knew, of course. of course he knew. you poor thing. sweet, little lamb, so innocent and pure. untouched by lust, blind to its deceptive allure. he knew from the moment he’d gone after you in those woods and failed to catch you, that he would do everything in his power to make sure you would never escape his grasp again. he knew when his frail attempts at getting closer to you failed, he had to resort to a harsher solution. he needed to infiltrate every space you breathed in, and break his was into your mind until he had you right where he needed you to be: malleable, so he could corrupt you just as easy.

he knew your father protected you, the extent to which he went to protect you, as well. banning sex education in your school, ensuring your mind stays as pure as possible to the exploits of fickle men and their wants. you knew the basics, thanks to your mother and her worrisome self, but her teachings were meddled down into some confusing allegory that left your mind as clueless as before, so that you stayed intact, perfect and pristine in the lords eye as well as the rest of the district, in your white frilly dresses, light makeup, and perfectly crafted manners.

he knew how easy it would be to get in your head. the human body is funny, like that, wherein it begs for things it doesn’t know of. he knew when he flexed his hands you caught sight of it, when he swallowed you intently watched the way his adams apple bobbed, he knew when he showed up to your home and stripped himself almost bare it would plague your mind with an unknowing want and desire, and soon enough, you’d have no choice but to give in to it, abandon your god and his lessons for coriolanus alone.

he ran his tongue across his bottom lip, swiping his thumb across yours as if to mirror himself, and then ducked his head closer, “go on.”

you squeezed your eyes shut. everything felt so, so wrong, and you didn't know why, but you couldn't stop. when he continued to toy with your lip, slightly plunging the tip of his finger past them and into your mouth, you let out an involuntary, small moan, and your legs shook and quivered as the strange ache from yesterday returned.

“wh-what?”

“kiss me.”

your eyes widened, and you shook your head. coriolanus thought it was adorable, how you struggled to piece together what was about to happen, how your brain tried desperately to fill in the blanks with information it didnt know. you heard coriolanus sigh disapprovingly at your protests and he shoved his thumb further into your mouth, causing you to choke. he removed it, then wiped the saliva that remained over your bottom lip before inserting the digit in his mouth, tasting you.

“its okay, little one. you can kiss me. he wont mind,” you didnt realize your fingers lingered over the necklace nestled on your chest, and your gaze followed his finger as he gestured upwards. he wont mind. you racked your brain over the things coriolanus said to you from he entered the church.

“i think you fear what i impose between you and your precious god.”

now, you truly hoped someone would burst in, and you could scream and wail as you explained the horrors coriolanus was about to commit to you (even if those horrors were unclear). he was so close, and something still pressed hardly against your stomach, and suddenly you couldn't breathe, “he would mind. i promise to pray for you coriolanus, i don't know what troubles you, but the lord-”

he cut you off by shoving his lips onto yours harshly, groaning at the contact. his hands made their way to rest on your clothed breasts, and you wriggled and struggled to try get away from him, but your efforts were fruitless. you were cornered, now. a lamb with nowhere to run or hide, forced to face its fate. he ravaged your lips, hands restless as they caressed all over your protesting body. the ache between your legs grew, and a small part of you realized that the last thing you wanted right now was for someone to walk in, and see the preacher's daughter being completely defaced by a peacekeeper.

“your god cant give me what i need, angel. cant you see? you did this to me,” his hand grabbed yours as he pulled away to speak, trailing it down the hard muscle of his abdomen and palming the hardness that threatened to burst through the seam of his pants. your eyes were wide and doe-like, and coriolanus never needed to fuck you more. his lips met yours again, and his other hand fumbled to remove his pants, hissing when the air hit his straining cock, all while you tried your best to distance yourself from him as much as possible. your face was hot, and your hands remained in the air, unsure of where to rest them, as you slowly allowed coriolanus to slip his tongue into your mouth.

“good girl,” he practically growled, and you let out a pathetic squeak when you felt your core tighten, pleasure washing over you at the small praise. coriolanus was turned on beyond conception, moaning disgracefully as he stroked himself through the fabric of his underwear. if you could see the spectacle the two of you were making, in the middle of church- no less, the thought alone had coriolanus close to the edge. you gasped when you saw him palm himself, and without thinking, your hand brushing his ever so slightly, lingering a second too long before his eyes snapped up at yours, pleading you to go ahead and touch him.

when you finally pressed your hand to his clothed region, you swore the way coriolanus threw his head back with a small mewl and moan would land you an eternity in hell alone.

“thats it, baby, jus’ like that.. keep going..” you gasped when his hand sneaked its way under your dress- your sunday best- your hand faltering a bit when his long middle finger lightly grazed your clothed cunt. the foreign feeling it elicited from you had you desperately searching coriolanus’s eyes for an answer, unable to speak as his fingers that toyed with the most intimate parts of you had you moaning softly and lowly, uncontrollably. you continued to palm him, and his hand slipped into the lacy cotton of your panties, cursing hotly under his breath when he feels you.

“so wet for me. you dirty fucking girl, look at you: making a mess in church.” you didnt know what he meant, but shame burned through your skin. confusion grappled at you and you began to sob, not ignoring the way your tears seemed to make coriolanus throb beneath you, “please stop, coriolanus, this is immoral.”

“baby, if it feels good, then it cant be bad,” he stroked the tear stains on your cheek softly, cupping your face with false earnest as he pulled your head to lay on his chest, “does it feel good?”

coriolanus reveled in the way you looked up at him, like a devoted follower in the arms of their saviour. when you nodded slowly, he gently spun you around and shoved your face into the cool wood of the crucifixion behind you, his hand painfully pushing against your cheek enough so that you couldn't look anywhere but above you, into the sad eyes of jesus.

your panties were ripped off with a shriek that was muffled by coriolanus’s hand around your mouth, and you sobbed as pain mixed with pleasure as he gave a few slaps to your dripping cunt, mumbling about how pretty it is. in a desperate attempt to wiggle out of your new position, you accidentally arched your back further, giving him more access.

“let me show you how i can love you,” he whispered into your ear, before returning his fingers to the slick mess that coated your cunt, your body jolting when they occasionally brushed over your clit, the unfamiliar sensation already too overwhelming for you to handle. with a few more agonising strokes of his fingers, he prodded at your hole, teasing your entrance in a way that had your eyes roll to the back of your head. when he finally slipped them in, your hand pounded desperately against the cross you were pressed up on, pleads to stop falling pathetically into the hand of coriolanus and onto deaf ears. he was merciless with it, greedily pounding his fingers into you in a way that had your knees gravitating towards each other and animalistic grunts of pleasure vibrating through his hand.

something in you burned, your body was pleading for more as an unfamiliar coil formed in the pit of your stomach. your hand continued to bang against the cross, tears falling as you forcibly peered into the eyes of your saviour while you got your cunt ravaged in the middle of his shrine.

“oh god, oh god” you mumbled through his hand. you were unsure if it was shame, or the delicious way coryo pumped his fingers into you, but you grew lightheaded and dumb, eyes hazy as you grew closer to your release.

“thats it, take it. you’re filthy, taking my fingers so well in the middle of church.” now, both hands scraped desperately against the cross, leaving marks in the wake of your fingernails digging into the hardwood. coriolanus tugged your head further up, forcing you to stare at him with tears streaming down your face and desperate pleas for him to stop going unheard. he smiled coyly when he felt your pussy clench around his fingers, and he withdrew them just before you reached your release, a loud, agonising whine of relief and desperation leaving your smushed lips. he was quick to replace his fingers with his cock, the slow intrusion of it making you let out a low, droned out groan as he stretched your virgin cunt past its limit.

he removed his hand from your mouth, and a string of prayers tumbled out of it, “o my god, i am heartily sorry for having offended thee,” and “and i detest all my sins because of thy just punishments, but most of all because they offend thee, my god, who art all good and deserving of all my love.” it earned you a slap to your ass, and you cried out loudly as coriolanus shoved your dress off of you, watching as it fell uselessly around your legs into a pool of white. he flipped you around, admiring your soft breasts and the way they spilled over in the hold of his fingers, and he traced the soft, plumpness of your belly as he chuckled lowly at your continuous prayer. with his cock still nestled into you, he leaned forward to whisper in your ear.

“god loves you, but not as much as i do,” and then he thrust his cock into you with such force that you nearly tumbled to the floor. his hand rest on your lower back, forcing you to arch closer to him, your hips meeting his unwillingly at his fast pace. coriolanus’s cock grazed the inside of your gummy walls perfectly, and you found yourself slipping from reality as he continued to pound his dick into you, moaning when you contracted around him without rhythm, your inexperienced self almost overloaded with pleasure, unable to control your body.

“you’re being such a good girl, taking my cock like this,” he weaved a hand through your hair, “‘n you’re gonna let me cum inside you, yeah? gonna make a woman out of you.” you couldnt focus on the words he was throwing at you, lost in pleasure as the tip of coryo’s dick hit that one spot over and over again. the way he spoke to you had you at a crossroads, and it didnt help that he was fucking you into oblivion, and now you understood what he had meant when he said he imposed between you and god, because you were becoming addicted to the push and pull of his cock inside of you.

“thats right, take it. you look so pretty all dumb and fucked out on my cock,” you reached to grab his arm to steady yourself, your orgasm creeping in closely, “you gonna cum for me?”

you didn't know what it meant, but you nodded anyways, completely lost in bliss, “coryo..” you moaned out, his brows raising slightly at the new nickname, a smirk settling on his face. moans and mewls lewdly left your mouth as he quickened his pace, his unused hand massaging at your tits, twisting and pinching softly at your nipples as you thrashed with pleasure under him.

“gonna make you worship this fucking cock, baby” he was close himself now, his head falling and his voice itching up an octave, lewd moans clashing with yours as the rhythm and pace he set began to falter, and he fucked you as hard as he could as he chased your high and his own, “gonna make you devoted to me. you’re never gonna wanna be away from me again,” his face twisted with pleasure, and you circled your arms around his neck as you tried to ground yourself, the coil in your stomach slowly beginning to unravel and threatening to snap. a shadow passed, and your eyes widened with terror as you slapped coryo’s arm haphazardly, begs falling from your mouth to stop. he turned his head lazily to look at what you were whining about, but his thrusts didn't stop.

“let them see what a dirty fucking girl you are.”

your walls tightened and your eyes rolled so far back into your head you were scared they wouldn't come back up as your orgasm reached you. you covered your mouth, shrieking desperately as the shockwaves of pleasure rolled over you, the newfound feeling unrelenting as it took over every part of your body. coriolanus repeated words of encouragement and praise as he fucked you through your high, before bottoming out and releasing his load in you, christening your walls. you whined at the feeling, so full and drunk off of it that your concerns of the passerby faded. the both of you stood there, panting heavily, both groaning when coryo slid out of you. he slapped his tip on your puffy clit one, two, three times, before a loud knock rapped on the church door.

you could feel coriolanus’s spill leaking out of you as you crouched on your knees, hidden, and you cried silently, the reality of what had just happened to you settling in. coriolanus snow had corrupted you, in the worst possible way, and now you could only feel yourself crave more of him. as he spoke to the intruder, egging them to run along, a thumb caressed your head gently, as if to tell you he had everything under control. the small southern drawl he’d begun to pick up was more prominent. when the intruder finally left, you were forced to your feet, and coriolanus grabbed your ruined panties, resting on his knees below you to shove them into your used cunt, before making his way back to his feet, towering over you. he spoke to you like he would if he were on duty:

“you go on home now, miss. and tell your father i say hello.”

and you did.

౨ׅৎ

@dumbsoftheart, 2023

#coriolanus snow #coriolanus x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus snow smut #tbosas #the ballad of songbirds and snakes

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dilfsfordinner · 7 months

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“Quit squirming,” Toji growled into the skin of your inner thigh, his teeth skimming the soft flesh as a warning before he shoved his face back into your cunt, sloppy licks being delivered up and down your slit. It was like he had been trapped on an island for a year or something with the way he was feasting on you, sucking your juices like a man deprived of his lifeblood.

He looked so good though; his black, shaggy hair framing his face perfectly, green eyes set by long, lowered lashes occasionally meeting your gaze, and his stupid, snarky mouth that would curl into a grin specifically when you would struggle in his hold or gasp his name particularly loud.

The wet squelches coming from his tongue had your face flushing red with embarrassment, your bottom half writhing under your lover’s strong arms, one forearm pressing down on your hips to keep you still, the other holding your legs open to prevent you from running away from his eager mouth.

“You’re soaked, pretty,” he teased, scar twisting from that familiar smirk you knew all too well, white teeth glinting up at you like a predator atop its prey, your juices covering the bottom half of his face, glistening, taunting you, your eyes squeezing shut in shame before you felt his mouth start back up again, sucking and licking every single fold.

Hiding from his eyes did nothing, it just drove him to please you more, harder, and before you knew it, two fingers were nudging at your entrance, digits lightly stretching your tight muscles before he pushed them in fully, the sensation ripping a choked gasp from your throat that pitched into a pathetic whine.

“So sweet. Taste s’good for me,” he slurred, eyelids drooping in a hazy gaze, eager mouth lapping at your center. His tongue traced every crease you had to offer, coating you in his saliva until you were absolutely soaked, not only from him, but from the arousal leaking out of you.

“Toji-” you moaned out, fingers slipping atop his scalp to fist his silky hair, your head pushing back into the pillows as he curled his fingers so deep inside of you, knowing right where your sweet spot was. He continued to feast on you, your thighs attempting to trap his face as they rested over his shoulders, his stupid grin returning as he felt your inner muscles clench around his fingers, runny liquid soon trickling down his hand and onto his wrist.

Pulling away, Toji licked his fingers clean, watching as your face lolled to gaze at him, pupils blown with post-orgasmic bliss, tongue wetting your lips, cheeks flushed, teeth peeking out in a tiny smile, and best of all, your needy expression that had you looking like a sex addict, legs spreading back open for him, hips rolling as he crawled up your form and captured your lips with his own, his own need evident and desperate to be satiated.

—————————————————————————

#toji fushiguro smut #toji x reader #toji smut #jjk x reader #toji fushiguro #toji zenin #jjk smut #dilf toji #toji x y/n #toji x female reader

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ivysangel · 2 months

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Honey clings to your fingers, viscous and sticky, stringing every time it touches itself. Lines of liquid gold run down the curves of your hand, streams of goopy liquid pooling in your palm and flowing down your wrist in a few collective lines. You plunge your thumb back into the honey pot, the thick substance clinging to your skin instantly, and you bring your hand back up again, the honey only stagnant for a second before it starts its descent down your arm.

A large hand, strong and veiny, grabs your wrist. An unrelenting grip bringing your hand forth to him. He presses your thumb to his lips, smearing the sweet substance to and fro, to the corners of his mouth and back, leaving translucent liquid behind when he catches your thumb between his teeth, grazing the appendage and scraping it clean. A guttural groan sounds in the back of his throat, and you know that means he likes it.

"'s good, huh?" you watch the way his eyes flutter as he lets the rest dissolve in his mouth, ecstasy written all over his features. An emotion he only exhibits when he's eating good food or fucking you. "Yeah, really good." His voice is hoarse as if the honey absorbed all moisture from his larynx and left him in need of a glass of water, ironic given its effectiveness in soothing sore throats. "Thirsty?" you hand him a cup filled with cucumber water, a palate cleanser. "Real sweet," he says before tipping his head back and downing the drink. "But I liked it. What's next?"

Your eyes peruse the board of half-eaten sweets and treats in front of you, searching for one that was untouched. The beech wood board, previously a nice light beige, is stained a multitude of colors. Splotches of deep reds and purple form puddles where you had put the berries, frosting is streaked across the entirety of the board from the multiple unfinished slices of cake, chocolate chips and sprinkles from cookies lay scattered on both the countertop and floor, spoons and forks that were only partially licked clean can still be found near their designated desserts. Cubes of angel food cake half-dipped in chocolate and tooth-rottingly sweet marshmallow squares sit on napkins, drying out more and more by the second while long-forgotten brownies soak up various fruity jellies and jams, having been discarded with no regard for keeping flavor profiles separate.

It was a nightmare to look at, an even bigger one to clean up, and if anyone else had been the cause of this mess, you wouldn't have even begun to entertain the idea of letting it get this bad, let alone cleaning it up. But it wasn't anyone else, wasn't just some random stranger; it was Jason, and to you, spending weeks curating the perfect Valentine's gift to satiate his sweet tooth was a testament to your love for him. Who cares if you have to break out the good cleaning supplies.

"Hmm," you do one last once over, nothing catching your eye that hadn't already been touched, "I don't think so." unintentionally, you start to clean up, collecting dirty forks and spoons for the dishwasher, stacking empty bowls on top of each other to toss in the sink. "What a shame," he mumbles, appearing beside you seemingly out of thin air and taking the utensils from your hands before setting them down haphazardly right where they started. You look at him with confusion, silently inquiring about his undoing of your work, and you open your mouth to verbally ask but are stopped by the wolfish grin adorning his face and the way he begins to lift the hem of your shirt up. "d'ya think we got anythin' else," he asks, moving in closer, eyes locked on you like a predator with prey. "I'm still hungry."

#happy valentines day from me to u #jason todd #jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x gn!reader #jason todd smut #jason todd imagine #red hood #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x gn!reader #red hood smut #red hood imagine #jason todd lover

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koqabear · 7 months

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Just A Taste

♫: 28 Reasons, Seulgi // Sacrifice, Enhypen // Hush, Ari Abdul // Oh my god, (G)I-DLE

“Sometimes, the best things are hidden in plain sight; all you need to do is give in to the chase."

vampire!soobin x fem!reader

Genre: supernatural au, office au, smut. pwp.

Word count: 9.8k

Warnings (for both the story and smut, it all blends together idk): barely edited. power imbalance oou… soobin’s a little evil and manipulative. And obsessive (severely). They have a bit of a predator/prey relationship idk how to explain it 😭😭 mentions of blood/drinking blood, soobin has like. inhuman strength. dom!soobin, sub!reader, bit of a fear kink? for both of them? dubcon, also scent kink for soobin, pet names, (bunny, bun, pet) humiliation kink ig, manhandling, dacryphilia, biting (whaaat??), implied aphrodisiacs, thigh riding, dumbification, praise, subspace…? multiple orgasms, degrading, strength kink, begging, use of restraints, breast play, fingering, orgasm control, cum eating, finger sucking, pain kink for the mc tbh… brief male masturbation? Soobin is big mwuah, unprotected sex, possessiveness, claiming/mating?, overstimulation, creampie, mc briefly blacks out lol, lmk if i missed anything..

notes: starting october with this absolute banger that was sent in quite a while ago. this story is teetering on the darker side, so please read the warnings carefully before you read!

Soobin, who is alluring and intimidating yet strange all at once— a bit standoffish yet charismatic, a total enigma to his coworkers. There’s something off about him, yet no one can really pinpoint what it is; he’s just too good at acting normal— at acting human.

Soobin, who immediately takes an interest in his meek and evasive coworker who just transferred into his department, who always seems to be tense and even afraid when he enters the same room— naturally, his curiosity wants him to find out why.

You’re smarter than Soobin gives you credit for; because the moment you stepped into the office for the first time, taking in the new environment and its people, you immediately knew there was something wrong about the head of the department— but, instead of brushing it aside like everyone else, you stood by your gut feelings.

A terrible choice, really.

Because after a particularly busy evening for you, you quickly found yourself staying after hours in the office, glued to your chair and zoned out as you finished the countless tasks that were suddenly piled onto you— little did you know, it had all been on purpose.

From the privacy of his office, Soobin watched you carefully; could it be possible you caught on? Was there a reason you never wanted to be alone with him, never afraid to show the skeptic look in your eyes the moment he tried to be friendly and approach you? It’s not that Soobin hadn’t tried to dissuade your clear distrust in him— but it never worked, and most times he found that it only made things worse for him in the end.

Normally, he would let it be— so what if you find him strange? Everyone in this office does; though he pretends otherwise, he’s fully aware of the comments they’ve all made of him— yet it never fazes him.

You however, seem to be a completely different case; he doesn’t think he’s ever felt this way about a human, never the type to give into his carnal desires unless absolutely necessary— even then, he’s always sure to give his prey mercy before feasting, only taking enough to satiate his hunger.

Maybe it has to do with the way your heart seems to beat a little faster around him, your eyes stricken with a subconscious fear that sharply contrasts your cold and indifferent attitude toward him, never batting an eye yet trying to hide the way your hands seem to shake when he gets even slightly close.

Poor little thing— in your attempts to distance yourself from him, you’ve only piqued his interest further.

Because as Soobin sneaks yet another glance at you, watching your every mannerism with hungry eyes, he’s found himself realizing that your fear is quite addicting.

With one last reassurance that the office is empty, Soobin makes his move.

You don’t hear his office door open; you don’t hear his footsteps approaching you, don’t even feel his presence as he stands behind you, quietly watching the way your fingers fly across your keyboard in an eager attempt to finish your last task of the day.

“Shouldn’t you be home by now,” Soobin fights the urge to smile as he watches the way you practically jump out of your seat, twisting around violently to look at him— the way you curl into yourself slightly isn’t lost upon him, “___?”

The way your name rolls off his tongue is dangerous; it’s perfect and addicting, just like the quick beating of your heart and your eyes that widen slightly as you realize who is currently towering over you— you seem unsure of what to say as you stutter your response to him, and Soobin has to resist the urge to coo softly at the way your hands grip onto your seat a bit tighter, your eyes glued to an unknown point behind him as you speak.

“I’m almost done, I’ll be leaving soon.” you say, biting your lip as you wait anxiously for his response; though you’ve always tried to seem flippant and indifferent in front of him, you can’t control the way your weakness leaks through you as you realize where you are— in the office, alone, cornered.

A moment passes. Soobin has yet to say anything, and despite your instincts telling you not to, you’re nervous enough to look up at him, trying to gauge his reaction through his expression.

His eyes lock onto yours immediately.

You’ve never gotten a good look at his face before; every time he’d walk into the same room as you, you’d make it a point to avoid him entirely— but now, as you really begin to take him in, you realize with a slight dread that he’s incredibly handsome— you think you know why your coworkers were so eager to dismiss any strange behavior from him now.

“There we go,” he smiles, his plump lips stretching into a smile; his teeth are perfect and shine even under the old lights of the office, and you can feel yourself shrinking slightly as you take in his smile— oddly dangerous, your eyes falling onto his sharp, fang-like teeth that glint at you, the expression more warning than welcoming— and you will yourself to meet his gaze once more, his eyes scrunching up in a way you would’ve considered endearing— but the way his eyes flash isn’t lost upon you, and you can practically feel your heart stopping at the sight.

“You’re finally looking at me.”

That wasn’t normal. Normal people can’t do what he just did— they can’t make their pupils glint with the same, sharp crimson that Soobin’s just did, taking in your reaction with a dark desire— no, if it weren’t for the fact that Soobin’s mere presence was already enough to make your hair raise like a frightened cats, you would’ve had half the mind to blame it on your tired brain.

“What was that?” you ask quietly, not trusting your voice to be any louder as you scoot your chair away from him slightly— a horrible choice on your part, leaving you more pressed into the desk and as a result, more trapped.

You think you might have lost your mind as you watch Soobin tilt his head, eyes almost transforming and turning into something more sweet and innocent, round and sparkling under the old office lights as he pouts slightly; a total change from the man seconds before, and you would almost begin to wonder if your mind really was playing tricks on you, if not for the subtle twitch of his lips as he takes in your befuddled expression.

“What are you hiding,” you say, your voice becoming stern as you finally decide to take a leap of faith; you’ve had enough of cowering in suspicion, beliefs that only grow stronger as you stand, taking in Soobin’s amused expression as he watches your brave front.

“What do you mean?” he asks, still pretending to be clueless as he takes in your accusatory tone with a raise of his brow.

“You… you’re not normal,” you feel a bit ridiculous the moment you say it out loud, but the way the man before you only begins to smile blatantly spurs you on, “You don’t have to hide from me— I’m not stupid.”

“And what will you do about it?” He asks, and it’s only then that you feel your streak of courage begin to fade; he’s taken slow, deliberate steps toward you, and before you can stop it, he’s got you pressed against the desk— hands on either side of you, arms caging you in as he looms over you dangerously, “Will you tell the others?”

You freeze as he begins to lean towards you— you’ve gone in total panic mode, unsure of what to say or do as you merely stand helpless to him, feeling a primal fear take over you as your poor heart beats harder against your chest— Soobin’s lips are near your ear, the soft huff he lets out in amusement defeating to you.

Slowly, he begins to lean down lower— you don’t know what his intentions are or what he may do, but all you know is that you can’t remain still any longer— his breath fans across the exposed skin of your neck, and your eyes widen as you feel his teeth graze the sensitive flesh, razor sharp and threatening as he threatens to carve a path down the column of your neck; like instinct, your fists come up to push against his chest, using your full strength to push him away in a rush of adrenaline.

Except, it doesn’t work.

Soobin remains still. Entirely. He doesn’t budge, doesn’t move an inch, even when you continue to punch at him, even beginning to kick at him when that doesn’t work— still, he remains unfazed, still as stone as you continue to try and get him off you.

Before you can even process it, his hands fly up to catch your own; his grip is bruising, and you can’t control the pained yelp that escapes you from how tightly he’s got you in his grasp. His strength… is inhuman. Helplessly, you meet his eyes.

“How cute.”

He smiles, and there they are again— his sharp fangs, his eyes that seem to glow threateningly at you, and his bruising strength that makes you wonder if he’ll shatter your hands— except, this time, it all seems to piece together, your mouth falling open as you begin to conclude the impossible.

“Your heart might explode at this point,” he mutters indifferently, eyes darting down to your chest that rises and falls with rapid, panicked breaths, “What’s going on in that darling brain of yours? You seem so, so afraid.”

“What…” Your words seem to die on your tongue as you thrash weakly in his grip, attempting one last time to escape before you finally give up, discouraged as you try to continue to seem brave, even if Soobin sees right through it, “What are you…?”

Soobin grins.

“Now you’re asking the right questions.”

♡♡♡

Your requests to transfer departments have been denied. All of them.

Not a day has gone by where you feel safe in the office since then. Of course, there’s no way Soobin would do anything— not in such a public setting at least, where he’s vulnerable to exposing his real identity.

That still didn’t stop you from avoiding him— if anything, your attitude toward him only became more blatant ever since that fateful night— and though you wish you could say it worked out well for you, you know that’s a lie. All it got you was more questions from your coworkers and rumors that stirred up about the two of you— whether it was a secret vendetta or a soured relationship, you think you’ve heard it all.

“What is it about him that you just don’t like?” they would ask, nosy as ever as you simply tried to laugh it off and deny your behavior— if you told them the truth, what would they even say? How would they react?

“Why… are you telling me this?” you had asked him, sitting back against the desk in order to not fall— your legs were weak and you’re sure they would buckle the moment you tried to stand, eyes teary and giving away your fear as you stared up at Soobin.

“Because,” he laughed, the sound soft and breathy as he looked down at you, his tongue running along the top row of his perfect, razor sharp teeth; the sight was enough to make you shiver.

“No one will believe you.”

You haven’t allowed yourself near Soobin’s presence since then. Haven’t looked in his direction, haven’t gone near him, always sure to give him a wide berth whenever he’s in the same room as you, eager to show him that you don’t tolerate his presence and that you refuse to acknowledge him, no matter how… terrifying and threatening he might be.

Throughout the time that has passed since his confession and now, he’s taken every subtle change of yours with great interest— any change of expression, change of behavior, change of feelings, he’s taken note of it all.

Recently, he’s taken note of your heartbeat. The sound is usually very jarring to him the moment he senses you; always rapid and panicked, even more so once you realize he’s nearby— and he’s found himself searching for the sound more often than not, beginning to seek you out even if you may not realize it.

Though Soobin has noticed something different these days— at first, he thought he was imagining it, that it was just his deprived brain coming to conclusions that simply weren’t there, but the more he paid attention to it, the more he noticed it.

Your heartbeat has changed. It was miniscule at first, something so minute and subtle that if Soobin hadn’t spent most of his working hours paying attention to the sound of your heart, he could have missed it. But he didn’t, and the sound only became more and more blatant to him the more time passed.

Your heartbeat wasn’t the only thing that changed. Slowly, you changed as well. He wasn’t stupid; he wasn’t ignorant to the way you began sneaking glances at him, observing him when you thought he was unaware— but when it comes to you, he pays more attention than he lets on— and if were to say that he didn’t notice the way you’ve began to study him with a subtle curiosity, that would be a downright lie.

Soobin finds your act of bravery very cute.

So, when the news is delivered that you would be presenting the monthly report of the company’s revenue to the higher ups, you think you felt your legs give out on you— Soobin could only watch with amusement from his office as you sat at your desk, a troubled expression on your face and your lips stuck in a pout as you chewed on your bottom lip like a habit— a habit Soobin had come to be jealous of, slowly finding himself craving to be the one to sink his teeth into you.

Soobin isn’t one to feed whenever a craving arises; he only does it when absolutely necessary, finding perfect victims before he swoops in and takes his fill— always enough to satisfy himself, but never enough to hurt.

His methods had been enough to have him survive and live a normal life, unlike those who jumped at the chance to fill a simple craving like beasts. So, being around you was both thrilling and dangerous— he found himself unable to control his thoughts the longer he remained around you, wondering what it would be like when he finally got his hands on you, wondering if you’d be willing to submit to him and let him use you as necessary.

For a second, he even ponders keeping you for himself.

♡♡♡

It’s late at night when you’re finally forced to present, the timing odd and unfortunate as you were told by your supervisors that “it was the only time that worked best.” The sentence was enough to have you irritated by the time the hour came along, forced to stay in your office long after everyone else had left before you finally made your way towards the presentation room on the top floor.

It was eerily quiet and empty as you made your way up, save for a janitor here and there or another employee that was finally leaving after their overtime; you had five minutes left before you had to present, and you could feel anxiety building up inside you as you shifted your weight on your uncomfortable heels— you had been wearing the uniform for so long that you couldn’t wait for the second you could go home and change.

Your heels clicked against the tiles of the floor, your hands gripping tightly onto the papers and laptop in your arms as you took in how many people were in the room; it wasn’t as much as you expected, but their power and positions had been enough to scare you straight as you enter slowly, closing the door behind you with a soft click as you greet them politely.

Your smile falters as you spot Soobin at the end of the meeting table, leaning back against his seat with a bored expression.

The meeting room feels a lot smaller than it did before; you feel suffocated and on edge as your eyes meet his, feeling stiff as you slowly make your way to the podium. You’re quick to look away, eyes glued to the floor as you clear your throat nervously; even now, you can feel his eyes burning into your skin.

Soobin can feel his desire burning stronger the longer he looks at you; he’s able to take you in properly, no longer able to hide or run away as you push through the presentation, the polite smile you keep on your face professional despite the rapid beating of your heart. Soobin can feel it all— he’s trying so hard to keep his instincts under control, but you make it so difficult as you remain nervous and skittish before him, eyes meeting his as he becomes unable to hold back the smile that spreads on his face.

You feel oddly cornered; you’re surrounded by people, but it feels like it’s just you and Soobin as you watch him flash you a smile, dangerous and terrifying as you take in the way his sharp teeth manage to stick out, even at a distance— you can’t help but feel as though you need to run away and hide.

It’s always expected to stay back and wait for everyone to leave after you’ve presented; so that’s exactly what you do, head ducked down as you pretend as though the idle screen of your computer is much more interesting than your supervisors that file out and chat amongst themselves. Biting your lip, you try to ignore the way you can practically feel Soobin’s presence as he comes closer— you’re eerily aware of the way it’s just the two of you now, the heavy door clicking shut after the last person that left.

Your attempt to ignore him until the very end is almost cute to Soobin. He can’t help but let out a breathy laugh as he watches the way you flinch, figure becoming tense as you take in the way he comes up behind you, looking over your shoulder to see what could possibly be taking up your attention like this.

“Well done,” Soobin says, his voice smooth as ever as he takes in the way you shiver slightly, “your presentation was quite impressive.”

All you can do is let out a soft thank you, hoping your uninterested tone and closed off posture is enough to shake him off— but of course it’s not, and you’re practically scared to breathe as you hear the man take a step closer to you, your jaw clenching as you feel his head hovering over your shoulder.

“Is something wrong? You look a little… tense.”

You’re shutting your laptop and ready to exit in the blink of an eye— but before you can even take a step towards the exit, you’re being pulled back, pushed against the podium and shrinking against it as you meet Soobin’s gaze.

“Please, leave me alone.”

There it is— the look Soobin has desperately been craving, eyes darkening at the way you stare up at him, meekly masked with a brave front as your eyes give away your true emotions; he inhales slowly, and he can practically drown in the way your scent changes at his proximity, the once sweet and alluring smell now intense and intoxicating, the twinge of something new piquing his interest as he finds himself stuck on it, unsure of what it may be.

“Have I done something wrong? It seems that you didn’t like me from the very start,” Soobin’s act of innocence is far from amusing to you. You’re unsure of what response he could possibly be looking for as he stares at you expectantly, pouty lips and round eyes a contrast to the true identity he revealed to you long ago.

“You know what it is,” you say, finding yourself unable to make space between you and Soobin as you press yourself further against the podium, “You— you’re not… human. You’re dangerous, I don’t want you near me.”

Your words are enough to have Soobin’s brows raising in surprise— the sudden confrontational tone you’ve taken on is quite surprising, and he finds himself oddly satisfied with the way your heart rate slowly begins to change, your scent going from something more panicked and sharp to something that practically makes Soobin dizzy— he has to hold himself back from getting lost in it as he smiles softly at you.

“Dangerous?” he repeats, though he doesn’t seem to be offended by the word as he slowly begins to lean in; of course, you lean away in response, but it only gives you so much space before you’re craning your neck back awkwardly, leaving you in a vulnerable position as Soobin eyes it carefully.

“Have I… done anything… dangerous, to you?”

Soobin’s voice is barely above a whisper; if you weren’t so focused on his every word, you could have missed it.

You gulp; Soobin’s eyes flicker down from yours, and you can feel yourself shiver at the realization that he’s staring at your neck. His words ring out in your head again, and you feel yourself tensing from a threat that seems to be hidden behind it all.

“You know I wouldn’t hurt you...” Your eyes are widening at his confession. There’s an unknown emotion swimming in Soobin’s eyes, and you can feel your hands cramping from how hard you’ve been gripping the edges of the podium behind you.

His eyes flicker back up.

You can feel yourself get transported back to the lonely day at the office, the scene eerily familiar as you take in the way his pupils become dilated, an intense glow of crimson swimming within as you find yourself unable to look away; the sight is almost alluring, and you realize with a heavy dread that Soobin is holding back— from what exactly, you’re unsure.

“You think I don’t notice the way you look at me?” he asks softly; you’re brought back to your senses as he leans in, his lips ghosting over your ear as he speaks, the deep rumble of his voice sending shivers through your spine, “I’ve noticed it all— especially the way your heart and body reacts to me now. Was it fun, pretending to hate me?”

Everything is so overwhelming. It feels as though your head is underwater as your mouth parts, unsure of what Soobin is going on about— you practically jump at the feeling of his hand landing on your waist, cold and big as his thumb gently caresses the spot.

“Aren’t you curious, bunny?” he asks, and you don’t realize that your eyes have been shut tight until you feel him pull away, confused by the sudden absence of his presence.

He seems to be lost in thought; his chest heaves with a deep breath— once, twice, his eyes fluttering shut in concentration— then he sighs, eyes slowly opening and a smile twitching at his mouth, lips slowly being stretched into a grin. He looks at you, at your cowering figure, your pounding heart, and your scent infused with a certain twinge he realizes he’s very familiar with— just, not familiar smelling it from you.

“You’re enjoying this,” your scent is thick and heavy, settling deep into his head and leaving him intoxicated from the realization that you’re aroused, face heating up and expression dropping with horror at his words; it’s no question, especially with the way your lips press together to withhold a weak whimper, “aren’t you?”

When you push Soobin off this time, he lets you; he stumbles back and watches the way you shake your head frantically, as if that could deny the way the way you have yet to run away, the way your scent only grows tenfold at the way he takes slow, deliberate steps towards you— your face is flushed and your legs tremble pathetically as you step back from him, walking along the long table as he only steps towards you in response.

“I’m— I’m not, you’re—” you can’t even seem to finish your words, mind blanking and eyes becoming glassy as he realizes that you’re embarrassed; he coos softly at the realization, reaching out teasingly to grab you, laughing heartily at the way you yelp and flinch away— as though he were something you should be guilty of being attracted to, as if the way you were feeling was dangerous.

And maybe it was.

“Are you embarrassed?” he coos softly, lips pouting as he looks at you with pity; you’re running out of room, about to go around the table and inevitably make your way back around to the exit— but not if Soobin can help it, eager to not let you out of his clutches this time as he rushes over to you; he’s grabbing your waist and pinning you against the windows of the meeting room in the blink of an eye, taking in the way you squeal in surprise and brace your hands against his chest— your heart is pounding at a harsh pace, a stark contrast to the way you feel nothing at all under your palms that press against the firm muscles of Soobin’s chest.

“There’s nothing to be embarrassed about,” he sighs, pressing you flush against the windows and watching the way your eyes screw shut, attempting to curl in on yourself as you press your thighs together tightly; the sound of your tights rubbing together is almost deafening to Soobin, and his fingers dig just a bit deeper into the flesh of your hips, as though he were holding himself back.

“It’s normal to feel this way, you know,” he coaxes you softly, whispering soft reassurances as he runs his hands up and down your sides, smoothing the fabric of your clothes and running down your tight mini-skirt; feeling the way your thighs tremble as his fingers skirt along the material that covers it, blunt nails scratching your flesh and pulling the sheer cloth along.

“You’re so tense, bunny,” he mourns, feeling the way your breath hitches as his hands move— one pressing against the small of your back harshly, the other grabbing at the back of your thigh in attempts to press you closer against him, caging you in entirely; your back is arching and your head is involuntarily tilting back as your neck is bared to him; through wet lashes and wide, doe eyes, you finally look up at him.

“Don’t be scared,” he breathes out, his hand trailing up your thigh, cold palm smoothing the material of your tights, ruthless against the cloth of your skirt as he drags it along— hand hitching on your shirt and tugging it up slightly, your chest rising sharply with the breath you take as he brushes up, up the delicate column of your neck until he’s got your chin in his palm— fingers digging into the plush of your cheeks, forcing you to keep your eyes on him as he smiles— it’s sweet, it’s dark, it’s predatory, and it sends a lick of fire down your body.

“I’ll take good care of you.”

When Soobin begins to lean closer, you don’t flinch away; your mind blanks and your lips part expectantly, pulse still quick and afraid under Soobin’s fingers that press against your neck, just under your jawline— and your eyes flutter shut, delicate lashes decorated with tears that wet your skin, a dark facade that only spurs Soobin on more— he’s finally got you under him, and it’s just as thrilling as he imagined.

When he kisses you, it’s gentle. He’s treating you like a fragile thing, testing the waters, waiting for you to respond to the way his plush lips press against yours, sighing in content the moment you do; your hands still shake against him though, unsure of what to do with them, only making Soobin hold back a groan at the way you grab onto the clean, pressed shirt the moment he slips his tongue past your lips, tasting you with such eagerness that you’re left breathless.

You’re shocked stiff when you feel it; his teeth, razor sharp and cautious, grazing along your bottom lip. The whimper you let out does nothing to distract Soobin from sensing the way your scent spikes, dense and rushing to his head as he does the only thing he knows how to do; his teeth sink into your swollen bottom lip, ripping a pained moan from you as your hands panic and press against his chest— but he stays there, feeling his fangs sink into the flesh, feeling the way blood pools around the wound and onto your mouth, on his teeth— he’s just as quick to pull them out, his hand that was once on your jaw traveling to the back of your head in a haste; eager to keep you close, tilting your head up and keeping your mouth parted as you simply allow him to lick and suck at the blood, to kiss you as though he could die any moment now.

It doesn’t hurt after a moment— that much surprises you, the only pain you feel coming from your burning lungs, from the need to be parted and breathe— but Soobin has deemed you his oxygen, his life force, reluctant to part even as you whine and plead quietly under him; after a moment, he finally gives in to your weak cries.

The string of saliva that connects you two is stained red; just like Soobin’s lips, and undoubtedly your own as well. His teeth are stained and your blood continues to fill your mouth, the taste metallic and strong as you try to regain your breath— slowly, your lip begins to feel strange, a tingling sensation running from your wound to your tongue, through the blood you swallow and into your system; your eyes widen, and Soobin merely looks at you with a knowing smile.

“What’s happening to me?” you ask softly, hands trailing up his chest to get purchase on his shoulders, broad and stable as you hold onto them like a lifeline— your body feels warm, your head is fogging, and your wound no longer stings— but the blood still dribbles out of it, far too much for you to keep up with it as you swallow continuously— and the feeling only worsens, until your thighs shake and Soobin’s touch suddenly feels much, much warmer.

“I feel— I feel…” you’re not sure how to describe this feeling; all you know is that you’re pulling Soobin back in for a kiss, fingers threading into his soft hair and tugging desperately to feel his tongue against yours again; to feel the way it runs along your bites soothingly, whimpering softly and being met with a soft groan in response; your taste, something Soobin once thought would be the thing to finally satiate him, is something he simply cannot get enough of.

“Feel weird, bun?” he asks softly, pulling away and cooing at the way you cry at the loss of him, “I know, I know— let me make it feel better, okay?”

Your form is no longer curled up in a desperate attempt to close yourself off; you’re no longer trying to hide the way your panties stick to you and your stomach burns with a strong desire, the window suddenly cold against you as you allow Soobin to press more against you, to place a thigh in between your legs, firm and thick as he goes up, up, and against your cunt— you practically keen at the feeling.

“It’s okay bunny, you’re okay,” Soobin says softly, both his hands finding themselves on your hips as he presses you against him; cute skirt now ruffled just under his hands, showcasing your sheer tights and your lace panties that are completely soaked; soft cunt grinding against his thigh, leaving a mess of slick arousal that only serves to spur the both of you more— your scent invading Soobin’s senses shamelessly, just as shameless as the sounds you let out, hips angling so that your clit can rub against the harsh muscle of his thighs.

He clenches and jolts the muscle against you. You’re left to weakly hold onto him, a hand on his forearm while the other is placed on top of his own hand, gaze going down to watch the way you rut against him stupidly— harsh pants leaving you as you watch your panties become soiled, your tights suddenly a lot thicker as they impede you from really feeling him— but you push the thought aside in favor of looking back up at him, unable to hide the shiver that wracks through you at the realization that he was already watching your face intently.

“Feels good?” he asks, tilting his head as he narrows his eyes, gauging your expression carefully— you nod frantically, attempting to say something, only for it to be cut off by a choked moan— Soobin has pressed your cunt flush against his thigh, forcing you to a slow grind that threatens your folds to spill out your underwear, the dirty sounds of your tights rubbing against the fabric of his pristine, smooth dress pants enough to have your face burning— and Soobin revels in the shame that it brings you, taking in the subtle, acidic changes of your scent with a deep inhale— he’s fascinated, and he refuses to let you go until his curiosity is satiated.

“What do you want, bunny?” The nickname affects you, that much he can tell— he holds you tighter, leans in to whisper in your ear, already feeling the way his close proximity is enough to have your heart rate spike, even if just for a second.

“How do you like it, hmmm? Want me to go harder?” his thigh tightens in a truly cruel way, angling it so that you can truly feel the contours of his every muscle— “faster?” and suddenly, you’re nothing but a pretty doll in his arms, his hands guiding your pace so that you’re riding him as recklessly as you want; the mewl you let out is enough to give him the answer he wants, changing his rhythm until he gets a particularly pathetic sound out of you.

“Like this?” He continues his set pace. And you’re shivering, unable to do nothing more than chant yes, yesyesyes, breathless and practically inaudible as you focus on the hot pleasure that you feel; Soobin is busying himself by whispering sweet nothings into your ear, things that would have you gasping and turning into a flustered mess any other day— but here, in these lonely, dark hours, with no one else around, you allow yourself to indulge; allow yourself to nod along to the way he asks if you’ll be a good little pet for him, if you’ll let him use you until he’s satisfied— and it all goes straight to your cunt, bringing a fresh wave of soaking arousal and making the pleasure in your stomach tighten until it’s unbearable.

You’re so close— and you’re quick to let Soobin know, watching your frantic attempts to take over the pace he’s set for you, whining and whimpering weakly as you search for that one thing that will set you off— and Soobin abandons whispering into your ear to place delicate kisses behind it, plush lips trailing down the column as his fingers dig into your hips, pressing you down against him, just like the way his lips trail lower, pressing kiss after kiss until his mouth opens and—

A cry is all you can muster as you fall apart on him. His teeth that grazed the sensitive spot of your neck have since then retreated, and Soobin is quick to sweep back in to steal your lips, pulling you in for a kiss you don’t have the mind to reciprocate; mind emptied, cunt clenching and soaking his pants as you allow him help you to continue riding out your high, whimpering weakly at the way he breaks the kiss to coo soft praise at you.

Come on bunny, let go sweet thing, that’s it, so perfect for me.

You’re not fully there by the time your orgasm has subsided; your mind is just as tingly and foggy as the rest of your body, your movements lethargic as you grab desperately at Soobin— craving nothing else but him, feeling as though the burning of your body can only be cooled by his touch— your eyes are glassy and fucked out as you stare at him, hips moving without you realizing as you silently beg him for more.

Soobin feels as though he could make you cum like this a few more times; entranced with the way your brows furrow and your mouth drops the moment you fall apart, the way your moans become choked and breathless as you ride out your peak— but he’s also undeniably greedy to be inside you, a desire he knows you share, judging by the way your hand has begun to trail down his chest slowly, eyes drifting down to the outline of his hardened cock against his smooth dress pants.

“Please…” you whisper out weakly, looking back at him with a face so pretty and undeniably pathetic that he refuses to hold back any longer— grabbing your hips and turning you two around quickly, forcing you to stumble back until you’re pressed against the table— and it doesn’t end there, letting out a whimper as Soobin hoists you up, the wood cool under your ass as Soobin continues to hover over you with need; you shrink under the intensity of his gaze, feeling your body buzz with a slight fear— and a slight adrenaline.

“What is it?” he asks, voice apathetic as he places a firm hand on your chest; pushing you down slowly, until you’re laying on the table and Soobin has parted your legs with ease to stand in between them; you’re whimpering out half-hearted and incoherent requests that Soobin doesn’t bother paying attention to, the hand on your chest making quick work to unbutton your shirt; low-lidded eyes taking in the cute bra that was hidden beneath, just as lacy and pretty as your panties as he smiles at the sight— your mind sobers for a second as you attempt to cover yourself in embarrassment, but Soobin refuses to let you as he gathers your wrists in his hands and pins them above you. His face is dangerously close to yours as he glares at you.

“Tell me bunny,” he grits out, feeling his clothed bulge press against your warm cunt, tensing at the way your arousal already leaks through the clothing; his hold tightens around your wrists and you squirm, legs locking on his hips as you try to grind your cunt against him— the sight is both endearing and pathetic to him. “I won’t know what you need unless you tell me.”

“Need you, please please, wanna feel you,” you ramble, wrists fighting to get out his grasp as you hips buck under him; your mind has become foggy once more, nothing else but a deep desire in your head that you know only he can satiate— you’re desperate for his touch and he knows it, so to have him deny you like this is nothing short of cruel.

He’s not satisfied by your begging. His face remains stoic as he lets go of your wrists, eyes narrowing at the way you grab onto his sleeves, eyes glassy and fucked over as you cry for him not to leave you like this— your body feels weird, and you just don’t know how to make it go away— you’re trying desperately to tell him what he wants, but nothing seems to work as you run your mouth until you’ve finally pressed the right button.

“Soobin, I— please, feel so weird, just wanna feel you, please help me, please?” your body is restless and you feel as though your heart only beats for the man above you, hot tears spilling from your eyes and running down your face; Soobin is quick to brush them away with gentle hands, shushing you quietly as he pulls at his tie; it was practically suffocating him anyways, and he feels as though he can finally breathe as he finally takes it off— and begins to tie it around your wrists with deft hands, enough for it to restrain you but not enough to hurt— and he’s left with a bit of extra length that allows him to pull your wrists down and flush against your stomach, watching the way your fingers absentmindedly stretch toward him, furthering your attempts to touch him as your rambles continue seamlessly.

“Soobin…” you cry softly, your chest heaving softly, supple skin peeking from your undone shirt, “feels so hot, wan’ your help… need your cock…”

There’s a thin layer of sweat that covers your body; a light sheen that sparkles along your chest and abdomen, hidden by the white, neat shirt that Soobin simply pulls further apart with a rough hand, untucking it haphazardly from your mini-skirt— and you shudder, unable to do nothing more but lay there as you wait for Soobin to do something— a soft cry of his name has him shuddering, dark eyes flickering back to your face as you repeat the pitiful sound.

His name has never sounded sweeter. He’s leaving wet, sloppy kisses along your breasts, free hand shoving the rest of your skirt up and onto your waist roughly— your body jolts from the crude movements, thighs shaking at the way his cool fingers skirt around the inside, drifting closer to where you need him the most, a shuddered sigh escaping you once his cool palm is pressed onto your cunt.

The fire in your body burns brighter. His touch is addicting and the lust that courses through your blood is only amplified by the feeling of him teasingly biting your breasts— never enough to break the skin, but enough to remind you of who he is, of what he’s capable of.

His strength is something you will never be used to— he’s able to rip your tights with a single hand, not flinching at all before he’s moving onto your panties next; the sound of the fabric tearing is eliciting a soft gasp from you, only for it to be replaced with a broken whine as his fingers glide up and down your slit— feeling just how much of a mess you’ve made, soaking his fingers and dripping onto the table as you buck your hips at him desperately— his fingers are wet as they circle your clit slowly, needy whines escaping you at the small stimulation, quietly begging for more— but he simply teases you, dark eyes staring up at your face and drinking every change of your face eagerly.

His fingers slip in so smoothly it makes him let out a soft moan; you’re so wet and tight, needy walls pulsing and sucking him in desperately, your cries still broken as you try to grind your hips against his two fingers, long and calculated as he presses along your walls, curling curiously and searching for the spot that will have you weak beneath him— and he finds it in no time, a long moan escaping you the moment the pads of his fingers press against it, curling and uncurling, watching the way your legs shake and jump at the sensation with a wicked grin; he’s pumping his fingers into you, adding another finger in, stretching you out until you feel as though you can’t handle anymore— and he tugs at your restraints teasingly, looking down at the way your nails dig into your palm and your arms become stiff from the pleasure— it only takes the feeling of his palm pressing against your clit for your breaths to pick up and become frantic.

“Soobin— Soobin please, ah— so– so close, gonna cum, ngh—” you’re thrashing under him, the pleasure so intense that you’re fighting against his restraints, head turning to the side as though you could hide your face from him, “please, need it, need t’cum, fuck…!”

You’re breathless and on the verge of tears, and Soobin takes it all in eagerly; he watches the way your face twists with pleasure, the way your arousal has soaked his hand and leaves your tight-covered thighs slick, and he feels the way your walls begin to tighten around him, so close, so impossibly close— he just needs to grind his palm against your clit a little harder, harshen his thrust so that your sweet spot is abused and you’re left a wailing mess, maybe bite at your skin teasingly, a promise for what’s to come—

But he doesn’t. He does the exact opposite of that, watching as your eyes widen and a broken look of realization dawns on your lips, eyes cloudy and filled with tears that refuse to spill; your voice is defeated and breaks with every frantic plea, your hips bucking desperately to try and get that fleeting pleasure Soobin is now denying you.

“No, nononono,” you babble, hiccuping softly as you screw your eyes shut, tears finally escaping you at the action, “noooo, please don’t stop— close, was so close to….”

Your words are interrupted by a soft sob that escapes you, your mind and body so desperate for pleasure that you feel as though your whole life-force is being taken away; your soft pleas blend together as you stare up at Soobin with pathetic eyes, hands that were once closed shut now stretching out to try and reach for him— but he refuses, staring down at your broken form with a blank face.

Soobin is quick to shut up your slurred pleas; his fingers are slipping out your cunt, dripping and shining with your slick arousal as he brings them up to your face— slapping softly at your cheek, watching the way your cum smothers over the soft skin and your mouth opens without much of a thought— your lips are tempting and pretty as they wrap around his fingers, a shiver running through his body at the feeling of your warm tongue running along the soiled skin, tasting yourself and letting out a soft moan; hazy eyes staring up at him, ruined cunt still bucking up at him subtly, as though tempting him to finish what he started.

And that’s exactly what he’ll do— his fingers are slow to slip out of your mouth, watching the dumbed out expression on your face as he does so— and his hand is trailing back down your body, brushing over the exposed skin with your spit-soaked fingers, not stopping until he’s back down at your pretty cunt.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this, bunny,” he says softly, his thumb going to rub gentle circles on your clit, his index and middle finger running up and down your folds— his other hand has abandoned your restraints, and you attempt to sit up slightly as you watch him undo his pants— unbuckling his belt and letting it and hang loose, undoing his jeans with haste and letting them lay low on his hips, his hand disappearing beneath the waistband of his boxers— and you can only let out a whimper at the sight of him finally pulling his cock out, long and thick with a flushed tip, leaking so much precum that you wish nothing more than to clean him up nicely with your tongue.

The pressure on your clit is becoming harsher; he’s building you up again, watching with apathetic eyes as your sounds begin to pick up again, still tense from your previous, ruined orgasm. You shake your head at the feeling, whining that it’s unfair, don’t wanna cum like this— need you inside, need your cock, pleaasee— god—

But he doesn’t stop— he’s stroking his cock at the same pace he’s set for you, the slick sounds of him fucking his fist going straight to your head, eyes fluttering shut at the overwhelming sight before you, nimble fingers swiping over his tip to collect his leaking arousal— and you’re close again, you don’t think you’ll be able to stop it this time, even if he pulls away, even if he tells you not to—

Soobin lets you cum this time. He watches the way your eyes widen and your mouth falls open with shock, his face twisting into concentration as he lets you cum on the head of his cock, pressing it in and breaching your walls just before you hit your peak— and you feel stretched, you feel full, helpless cries escaping you as he begins to thrust the rest of his length into your clenching walls, hands unsure of what to hang onto before you’re able to grab a bit of his shirt— and you’re pulling much harder than expected, eyes widening as you watch a few of his buttons pop off, not able to focus too much on it due to the feeling of his thick, pulsing cock entering you with every clench of your walls.

Your chest heaves in attempts to calm yourself down— his shirt is twisted in your fingers, but it’s not enough to ground you as you feel the way his length curves into you, pressing against the abused and sensitive spot that has you keening and clenching around him, shaky legs wrapping around his waist to pull him closer— and he’s hovering over you, supporting himself with a forearm by your head as the other holds onto your waist.

He begins to move— it’s slow and subtle, starting at nothing but a grind of his hips as he feels the way your hot walls adjust around him, squeezing and fluttering and expanding, all as you try to take in his impressive size— then he pulls out slowly, feeling the way your cunt attempts to protest the action, your eyes rolling back at the way you feel every detail of him, pulling all the way out until the only thing left is his tip that catches on your entrance, the rest of his length covered in your shared arousal.

Soobin remains there for a second; deep breaths fanning against your skin as he closes his eyes in concentration, willing himself to not cum at the feeling of you, the sight of you underneath him, the sounds that are panted and whined directly against the shell of his ear.

Without warning, his hips snap back against yours— the action is sudden and has your body sliding up the table slightly, only to be brought back down by Soobin, who wraps the length of his tie around his hand and pulls you back against him— burying himself deeper into you, feeling the way his cock practically splits you open— but you like it, your scent practically emptying his mind and your walls gripping him like a vice— it’s hard to move, but Soobin accepts this challenge eagerly as he begins to fuck you.

Slow, it’s so agonizingly slow. But it’s deep, and Soobin angles his hips so perfectly, grunting against your ear and letting out sighs with every pull of your restraints, the tie tightening around your wrists and sending you back down on his cock ruthlessly; you’re nothing but a doll for him to use and control, your sharp heels digging into his back as you try to hold onto him helplessly, treated like nothing but a ragdoll as Soobin slowly begins to pick up his pace.

Then his hips are slamming against yours. The sounds of skin against skin is echoing harshly into the meeting room, and his cockhead is mean and thick and heavy as it presses against your sweet spot, again and again until you’re hiccuping moans, unable to breathe, unable to fight against the overwhelming pleasure— and it’s just how you like it.

Your mind is racing, your mouth unable to spit out a coherent thought— but your body speaks for you, and Soobin watches as you begin to grow restless under him, the way your legs tense and your hands pull at his shirt, eyes rolling to the back of your head and fluttering shut as he retaliates by fucking you a little harder; your wrists ache and so does the rest of your body, but you don’t seem to care as you walk this tightrope of pain and pleasure, something Soobin is well versed in— he laughs softly at your fucked out expression, releasing a sharp breath before his lips are hovering right by your ear, sentences punctuated and broken up by the exertion of his body and the moans that your cunt rips out of him.

“That’s a good bunny— cunt so fucking tight– shit, just wanna make you mine, keep you to myself, claim you like you deserve—” he listens to the way you react to his words, feels it, your cries and nods not slipping past him as he lets out a breathy laugh, “you’d like that? Yeah? Fill— fill you up nice and full— fuckin’– take care of you like a good little pet— hah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

You’re nodding, fuck, there’s drool building up in the corners of your mouth, tongue lolling and absentmindedly brushing past the bite marks on your lips, the dull sting only bringing about more shocks throughout your body, desperate to be satiated, a fire begging to be put out— and the idea of being nothing else but Soobin’s, his to use and claim, is absolute heaven in your mind.

The knot in your stomach is becoming impossibly tight; you’re on the verge of hitting your peak again, Soobin can tell, yet there’s something else your body seems to be begging for— and he knows exactly what it is, grinning wildly and practically stealing the thoughts from your head as he pulls the tie in his hands roughly; his inhuman strength sending you back down on his cock with ease, lips brushing against your ear and hot pants making you shiver as he speaks to you in that dangerous, low voice of his.

“Say it,” he growls, his pace not faltering even if your cunt is willing to hold him so tightly he’s unable to pull out at all, your head thrown back and your eyes screwing shut from the pleasure.

“Tell me you want it. Tell me you’ll take it– fuck– take it like a good pet— say it. Say it, use your words, bunny.”

Your words are coming back to you with a particularly unforgiving thrust of his— eyes widening as they search for Soobin’s frantically, only to be met with his head of blond hair and his face that’s tucked in the security of your bared neck— and you let go of any shame that was left inside you, a carnal and primal feeling overtaking you as you beg, and beg, and beg.

“Please– please please, I want it, I need it— Wanna be yours, wanna be claimed— fill me, use me I– need— need it, hnng– want it, want you to fill me, cum inside please— been so good, right? I’ll take it, I— ah! I— wan’ you to claim me, make me yours—!”

Soobin has never heard anything more perfect. He’s calculated as he thrusts right into your sweet spot, once, twice, three times— and he sinks his teeth into your pretty little neck, listening to the wanton squeal you let out, cunt immediately soaking and choking his cock— but he holds you down nicely, pressing his weight onto you and placing both hands at your hips, making sure you can’t squirm away from him or his cock that lets you ride out your orgasm, rutting his cock into you even after you’ve begun to shake from the sensitivity.

Your blood is heavenly. There’s no single word that could describe its taste, the way it makes his body shiver and his eyes roll back, finally setting him off the moment he swallows. And he cums inside you, fills you up good, the warm liquid squirting endlessly inside you, prolonging the feeling with the subtle rocks of his hips. It goes on longer than the two of you expected, filling you up with cum until it has no room to go, dripping out of your abused hole and leaving a ring around the base of Soobin’s length.

He listens to the way you cry and sniffle above him, lost in the pleasure— it doesn’t hurt. No, far from it. It makes you see stars and makes another weak wave crash over you, and you think your consciousness is slowly slipping out of you from the intensity of the pleasure you’ve received; Soobin’s lips are stuck on your neck for a few more seconds, warm tongue brushing over the sore punctures before he’s pulled away, your neck sensitive and bruised from the bite.

And it heals nicely the moment he’s pulled away. But there’s something different this time, something that shows up on your skin that he’s never seen before; two faded dots remain on your skin, and though it’ll remain inconspicuous to everyone else, Soobin immediately recognizes it with a soft shudder— he feels his cock twitch inside you.

It looks like his body has agreed with his mind; you’re the perfect fit for him, his to use and take care of until he can’t anymore— he rubs soft circles on your hips, straightening up and looking at the mess before him with fond, lustful eyes— a sheen of sweat covering your whole figure, your closed eyes and parted mouth, your shirt that’s been left open and mirrors his own torn one, your bound wrists and skirt that’s haphazardly bunched at your hips.

And his eyes wander lower, to take in the way your thighs continue to tremble and his cum leaks out, staining your tights and the table of the meeting room— you’re waking once more with a soft groan, looking up at Soobin through bleary, red-rimmed eyes.

He leans over, hovering above your face; pulling you in for a sweet kiss, smiling at the way you can’t even reciprocate it properly— and he nips at your bottom lip teasingly, feeling the way you immediately shiver in response.

“So good for me, bunny,” he smiles, continuing to trail kisses all along your face, on your jaw, traveling to your neck— and his eyes scan your faded bites with satisfaction, kissing it softly and feeling the way your body warms immediately.

“You’re all mine now, you know that?” your cunt clenches involuntarily at his words— and he’s slowly beginning to rut his cock into you again, already feeling a cruel thirst fester within.

“All mine.”

You can take another round, he’s sure of that— after all, you’re his good little pet.

#txt fanfic #txt fanfiction #txt imagines #txt oneshots #txt ff #txt x reader #txt smut #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #soobin smut #soobin ff #soobin imagines #soobin oneshot #soobin x reader #soobin fanfic #soobin fanfiction

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wint3r-h3art · 7 months

Text

The (un)Invited | Vampire!Miguel O’Hara

Summary: Your new and mysterious next-door neighbor turns out to be more than you think he is.

WC: 4.5K

Warnings: Contains horror & dark themes like dub-con and blood. Predator/prey play, possessive behavior, biting, oral sex (female receiving), breeding kink, vaginal fingering & vaginal sex.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DO NO INTERACT

A/N: The first entry of my Carpe Noctum event for the month of October! Special shout out to @galatially for beta reading this. thank you so much for your amazing feedback, and you may have planted some ideas for a possible part 2 🤣

***Do not repost, copy, or translate my works anywhere else. Please support by commenting/reblogging. Banner by @cafekitsune

Petrichor permeated the air as the last breath of the sun fled the sky, drenching heaven with inky blackness. The rain had just stopped after many days of brutal heat waves, soaking every dry crevice with a new sense of life.

Miguel crouched down on the large branch of the tree, balancing his large body with just the ball of his feet. His crimson eyes burned like candlelight in the silent darkness; the air felt sticky and heavy with a hint of sweetness.

With his eyes closed, he could hear the rushing of footsteps, running and trudging atop the wet, muddy forest floor. Miguel licked his lips tentatively, revealing his sharp, pearly canines. He ran his tongue over his fangs as thirst traced its cold fingertips along his spine. The familiar ache radiated from the base of his throat. His gum was aching and throbbing as the sweet scent filled his lungs. Saliva flooded his mouth at the prospect of his sinking his teeth into the sweet, warm flesh. He imagined what it would feel like to have that blood gushed into his mouth, satiating that ache and filling him with nothing but that sticky, sweet crimson liquid.

He had tasted you before—the salty sweetness lingered on his tongue and felt like a stimulant upon his senses. Soft and warm–like the way the sunlight kissed upon his skin many centuries ago. It was like a punishment and a salvation for him–blurring the fine line between his hunger and want. He knew then and there that he got to have you.

A deep, guttural growl emitted from deep within his chest at the thought of spending his eternity with you. A small yelp followed by a soft thud pulled him from his reverie.

You were so naive and so trusting, inviting him into your apartment without a single thought in mind. He knew from the very beginning about the attraction you felt for him. Your eyes told him everything he needed. The magnetic pull you felt at that moment your gaze landed on him was instantaneous and strong. Every molecule in your body yearned for him–it was all built-in for a creature such as himself. He was meant to tempt, to lure and to trap his prey where he wanted them.

From exchanging glances when you invited him into your apartment for coffee to the way his voice would drop an octave or two lower when you converse with him–hell, even the way he smelled, they were all meant to trap you in his web.

Two weeks to gain your trust and two weeks to get you to need him–to want him so much that you would go crazy. He knew from the moment his lips touched yours that it would be an end game. It was unlike any hunger he had ever felt before. He swore he almost moaned out loud when his lips molded over yours in a slow, sensuous kiss. His large palm trailed to the nape of your neck, holding you there in place as his tongue twisted and flicked with yours. It took every ounce of his control then and there to not fully initiate the mating ritual because as much as he had the upper hand, he wanted you to want him–to crave him to the point where you beg for him.

Falling for him was easy when Miguel was so intune to your every need, whether it was in the bedroom or not. You were a little bit suspicious of course when he only wanted to spend time with you after the sun went down, but that little voice that was in the back of your mind was weaker than what your heart desired. It wasn’t as if he was hiding you–hell, he took you to places you’ve never dreamt of going, yet…it felt off.

You have never seen him work nor go out–hell, you weren’t trying to spy on him. You were curious. He always stayed in during the daytime, all cooped up in his apartment and not answering your text. He always made it up though with lavish gifts and attention that you never dreamt was being given to a man as attractive as Miguel was. Looking back now, you felt a pang of regret for trusting him this much.

You didn’t even bother protesting when he invited you to spend the long weekend with him at a cabin he claimed his family owned in the woods. Any sane person would have asked him more questions, especially when you only knew him for a month. With your cockdrunk brain thought, it only took a little convincing from him to get you to where he wanted you: secluded from prying eyes.

His true nature fully came out when he had you under him on the couch. He was more impatient than usual, and you only thought that it was because he was needy from not seeing you for the past three days, but something was off about him.

He was rougher than usual. Every time he grabbed your thighs and pulled you toward him, he wasn’t being careful digging his nail into your skin. There was a sense of urgency in the way he kissed you. He would let his teeth graze the delicate skin of your lips, and at times it felt like he did it intentionally to break the skin open. His tongue would then lick over that same spot, and you swore you could taste the faint salty, metallic taste on his tongue when he plunged it down your throat.

But all it took was a glimpse into his bloodlust eyes.

Somehow, underneath the amber light, his eyes seemed to glow blood red as he was kissing the space between your breasts. You were, of course, stuck in a haze when his mouth did such a sinful thing to you–licking and kissing his way down your body while his large palm covered your soft mound. There was no hesitation of course when you let out a terrifying scream as you tried to scurry out from beneath him, but Miguel had you in a grip. And from the way your scent changes, he knows that you have figured him out.

Miguel slowly sat up as he gazed down at you. A thin trail of crimson liquid ran down his chin. His tongue darted out to lick the traces of your blood, flashing you a small glimpse of his fangs.

You were delirious and frantic at this point. You could feel a surge of adrenaline coursing through you as every cell in your body told you to run.

“What the fuck are you?”

Miguel didn’t miss the way your voice trembled as you took a step back, hand clutching whatever article of clothes you had. He also couldn’t ignore the way your heart surged, beating so hard against your ribcage as if it was about to burst through your chest cavity. He also couldn’t deny the intoxicated smell of your blood that was pumping through your veins either. His gum ached just from the desire to sink his teeth into your skin while he fuck you deeply. He had never wanted anyone in his life before–hell, he had never wanted to mate with anyone this much in all of his existence. The thought of feeding you while he bred you was driving him mad.

“You know the answer to that already, love. Do you want me to spell it out for you?”

Miguel took a step towards you, and you retreated. In the confinement of the cabin, his stature appeared larger inside the cabin. He could have easily snapped you in half if he wanted, but that was far from it.

He was right. You knew exactly what he was. Your brain could piece together the little clue. The red glowing eyes, the sharp fangs, and those talon-like nails–you knew exactly what he was.

“A-Are you going to kill me?”

Miguel laughed in reply, and you took another step backward. He knew you would want to run, and that only made this little thing a little more fun for him.

“Hmm…originally,” he replied pensively as he ran his claws through his messy, brown hair, letting some traces of your blood coated his strands. It was true. His original intention was to devour you, but for some reason, the more time he spent with you, the more he craved you in a way that feeding you would satisfy him.

“But you turned out to be far, far better than a one-time meal for me. You see, I was searching for someone that I could spend the rest of my eternity with. I’ve never thought that I would find someone as perfect as you are, but by hell…” He chuckled as if he couldn’t believe that someone like you could be real.

“You were so eager to have my affection and so eager to be with me. Not to mention how fucking perfect you are for me. Your scent–every time you came, the smell of your blood felt like some sort of stimulant to me…like a drug that somehow I can’t get enough of, so I gotta have you, sweetheart. All we need to do is perform the mating ritual, and we shall spend the rest of our eternity together.”

“You’re insane,” you managed to utter the words out. “You are fucking insane…you did all this just to make me into some sort of your little pet for you to feed on.”

Miguel chuckled again. “Hmm, I mean a nicer term would be my mate. A great deal if you ask me because the alternative will be me draining you dry until you are nothing more than skin and bones. And if it wasn’t me, there are others that are far worse than I.”

“You’re insane,” you sobbed as your back was now flushed against the cabin door.

“Hmm, am I? I thought you wanted me. You said that the last time we made love, did you not.”

You gasped out loud as you remembered that one night that he had stayed over. It was the middle of your fucking of course. You were clearly under the influence of lust to even think straight.

“You clearly said you wanted to be mine. You said that I can take you, and here I am, taking you up on that offer.”

His smile slowly turned sickly sweet. You were horrified of him of course.

“Please let me go,” you pleaded with your hands behind your back, trying to slowly turn the door knob. Miguel knew of course, but he had been a patient man. He could play along a bit more. It wasn’t like you can run far.

“Hmmm, why would I do that when I have spent so much time getting to know you?”

“Please?” you begged again, this time you knew that once you got him distracted you could bolt right out.

“No.”

You swallowed as you watched him, making sure that you could catch him off guard, and you bolted right out the door.

You ran like hell. The icy cold wind bit through your skin, as your legs burned. It wasn’t ideal to run with your bare feet, but you didn’t have a choice. You didn’t even bother to look back to see if he followed you or not.

Miguel leaped from one tree branch to another, eyes and ears pin-pointed to your location. Even at the slightest movement within his property, he could hear you. It wasn’t like you could run far, he thought to himself as he breathed in your lingering scent again. Miguel licked his lips as if the smell had invigorated him or something.

There was no time, you thought again. You have to run, you told yourself when suddenly your foot got caught by the mud and toppled you over with a soft thud. You yelped out in surprise as pain shot out from your ankle.

“Fuck, fuck fuck…” you mumbled in between your breath as you tried to pull yourself out of this predicament. Your clothes are stained with mud and dead leaves. The smell of dead vegetation filled your nostrils.

“This can’t be happening,” you sobbed as you dragged yourself forward, crawling atop the muddy forest floor. Every moment was slow as you struggled. Tears soaked your face as you heard faint footsteps following you not too far behind, stalking, observing. You didn’t dare to look. You just knew who it was, and you didn’t dare to think of anything else other than to escape.

You could barely hear what he was saying in Spanish when your heart was beating so hard against your chest. It was almost deafening by the way you were practically hyperventilating as panic set it. You didn’t want him to catch you, but damn your stupid ankle, and damn your stupid self for believing his lies. You should have known that this was too good to be true. No good men in their right mind wanted you. The thought only made you sob harder because hell, you really believed him.

You were at the point of exhaustion as Miguel continued to observe you not too far behind when hands were in his pocket. It was a pitiful sight indeed, but you were too damn stubborn, and he somehow had to teach you a lesson or two first.

“Are you done?” Miguel asked, kneeling next to you. Of course, you instinctively flinched away from him and didn’t answer, but he chose to ignore that.

“Look at what you’ve done to yourself…we could have been civilized, you know,” he said as he slid his arms underneath you and picked you up. You felt his smell enamored you as he pressed close to his chest. Why did he has to smell so fucking good all the damn time?

“You wanted to kill me,” you said in between hiccups of your sob.

“No–now, you are just being unreasonable. I wanted you—not to kill you. I want to have you, there’s two different things, sweetheart.”

“The same frickin thing,” you said in between your sobs. “I’ll end up dead regardless.”

Miguel didn’t say anything. He simply and quickly made his way back into his cabin and headed straight to the bathroom. You watched him carefully as he placed you on your feet. He turned on the shower to the warm setting and waited until the water came to the temperature.

“What are you doing?” you asked. You realized your voice was hoarse now from all the crying and screaming.

“Cleaning you…do you want to stay in these muddy, wet clothes?” His dark brows quirked as he looked at you with his crimson gaze.

“Stop pretending like you care about me when I am nothing more than your meal.”

Miguel let out an exasperated sigh. “Oh, but you are not,” he reassured you again as he crouched down until he was at your eye level. His deft fingers worked quickly with your tops and pants. “I’ve told you before, I want to have you.”

“The same fucking thing!”

Miguel huffed as his anger boiled over. He suddenly grabbed you by the nape of your neck, forcing you to look at him. There was no denying that he was furious.

“If you’re going to treat me like a fucking monster, I’ll show you a monster.”

With that, his mouth crashed into yours with a ferocity that was unlike anything you ever felt. His hard body pressed against yours almost too much. His arm snaked around your waist, constricting you. You could feel his fangs scraping your skin every now and then. His tongue plunged into your mouth, licking and sucking at your tongue.

Miguel was relentless in his quest to break you–to mold you into his perfect bride. Long had his search been to find the perfect person, and long had he been, enduring years of loneliness and drowning himself in the sea of bloodlust. But now, he found you, and he won’t stop until you become his.

He grabbed you by the ass and hoisted you up. He brought you under the hot water, your back pressed against the cool wall as his lips trailed down to your neck. You could feel his tongue licking along the column of your neck. Miguel would press his sharp fangs against your neck enough to elicit a whimper out of you, but not enough to pierce your skin just yet.

“Tell me you want me,” he said, his voice vibrating against your neck as you shudder in his arms. You could feel his cock pressed against your stomach. “Beg me to fuck you and fill you.”

You whimpered, unable to vocalize or rationalize anything.

On one hand, you wanted him. In such a short period of time, you felt like you found the one person that want you without judgment, on the other hand, he lied to you–hell, he was a fucking vampire.

Miguel groaned as he slowly ground his hips against your bare core. His large palm squeezed at your ass cheek firmly before slapping it.

“Say it!”

The growling sent chills down your spine as you let out a somewhat incoherent whimper.

You were practically sobbing in his arms as he nibbled against your skin. You were clearly scared and helpless, and Miguel could tell by the way the sickly sweet scent filled the bathroom. He had no desire to force you, but your insistence on insulting and running away from him made him this way.

Taking a deep breath, he stopped and simply stood there with you in his arms, allowing the hot water to wash dirt and grime off you. He had to tell himself that you needed time to process all of these. But time wasn’t the luxury he had right now. The mating needed to be tonight. He cannot endure another full moon without you.

After a long moment of calming himself, he finally spoke with his forehead pressed against yours. His crimson eyes were no longer glowing.

“I have no desire to spend eternity with you resenting me, so I will give you a choice of coming to me willingly. ”

“The alternative?” you croaked. “What if I don’t want to change?”

“You know the answer to that,” he said somberly as he put you down. “Clean up and don’t you fucking dare think about running again.”

*****

You finished showering and limped out of the bathroom to find Migule sitting at the edge of the bed, his eyes never faltering from you as you slowly approached him. You noticed that he was holding a pouch of blood in one hand, which was already half empty. His lips stained a deep shade of red, glistening with the liquid that he was drinking. Fear traced its way down your spine.

Miguel noticed your concerned expression and spoke. “I’m trying to feed myself so I don’t take too much from you.”

“That’s very considerate of you,” you mumbled with arms crossed over your naked chest.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Miguel said. His warm smoky scent filled the room. The air felt so thick that you felt like you were choking on it. He held out a hand–an open invitation for you to take.

“Eternity is a long time,” you said softly. “I’m not sure if I can do that.”

Miguel closed his palm around yours and pulled you in until you were straddling him. His forehead pressed against yours again. You could feel his sickly, sweet breath brushing against your skin as you stared at him. “You’ll figure it out. I’ll make sure you see my reasons.”

With that, his lips closed against yours. This time he was gentle and slow and deliberate. It felt like the Miguel that you came to know–perhaps the visage that he had put on to make you fall for him. He trailed one hand up and down your spine, while the other held you firmly in place.

His tongue swept across your lips, then along your jawline. Licking and tasting every inch of your skin. You were practically breathless at this point as your body felt weaker against his barrage upon your senses.

“Tell me you want me,” he mumbled against your breast. His low, baritone voice sent a tremor straight through you as his crimson eyes watched you. “Beg me to take you.”

“P-please take me…” you said in a haze as your lashes fluttered from the wet sensation of his mouth against your breast.

He grunted and bit down slightly on your right breast. A small gush of your blood flooded his mouth as he drank you in. Every inch of his body felt like it was set ablaze as the sweet taste of your blood coated his tongue. He felt his cock hardened as every part of him filled with nothing but you.

It should have hurt, but your fucked up brain was far too gone. Instead of pain, you felt pleasure as your pussy felt like it was gushing out even more slick.

“Fuck,” he growled as his tongue darted out to lick the small puncture wound on your soft mound. “I’m going to fuck you so good, baby. I’m going to drink you, fill you, and breed you until you’re filled with nothing but me.”

You whined as he had you on your back. His large body hovered over yours. You were practically delirious at this point. Miguel still licked his lips, savoring the way your blood still lingered on them. It took everything in him to not initiate the ritual then. He wanted to enjoy you as a mortal first, taking his time a bit before changing you.

Miguel licked two of his long, thick fingers, wetting them first before he brought it down to your nether lips. His fingers brushed against the fold, allowing your wetness to coat them before he plunged them right into your soppy pussy.

Your body jolted instantly as he was knuckled deep inside you. The soft, squelching sound filled the room as he pumped his digits in and out with intent. Miguel’s thumb pressed and swiped against your clit, bringing you raw pleasure. Your body responded in such a way that you didn’t understand. You were practically grounding your hips against his arms, fucking yourself on his fingers needily.

“Miguel…” you moaned, but he didn’t verbally respond. Instead, he bent his head down and licked the same spot where he had drank from you.

He suddenly added a third finger and he suddenly sped up his movement while his mouth was around your stiff nipple. Pleasure bombarded your senses.

You moaned out his name again.

“You like that, hmmm?”

You nodded frantically. “Yes, yes, yes,” you chanted under your breath as you watched him with a hazy gaze.

“Hmmm,” he said before withdrawing his fingers from you. A protesting whine left your lips, but you soon found yourself gasping again when he swiftly moved down. His mouth was practically devouring your pussy. His tongue pressed and toyed with your clit while his vice-like grip held you in place.

A deep rumbling noise emitted from his chest and vibrated straight through your pussy. Your clit was throbbing to your frantic heartbeat. Your pussy clenched and unclenched at the emptiness you wish he would fill you with. It was like a never-ending hell as he tore you apart and put you back together simultaneously. And it wasn’t long when you came with a strangled cry.

Miguel continued to plunge his tongue into your needy hole, lapping at your essence. You could feel his sharp fangs traced against the skin of your inner thigh. And without a thought he sank his teeth into your flesh once again, drinking you slowly. It was like a burst of adrenaline shot through his veins as your sweet taste coursed through his body. As if his cock weren’t hard already, whatever the fuck your blood was doing to him was like some sort of drug that made him mad.

“I’m going to fuck you so good, baby,” he mumbled as he moved to kneel between your legs. A trail of thick blood ran down his chin as he looked at you. He was wild, terrified, and hot all at once, and you felt your reservation slowly slipping.

His arms slid between under thighs, lifting them over his forearms as his body moved closer so that his knees were now close to your chest. He adjusted his hips and pressed the fat tip of his cock against your wet entrance. His crimson eyes never tore away from you.

Miguel slowly pressed forward, entering you with a slow and precise movement. Your eyes closed as he stretched you out deliciously, filling you with that long, thick cock. You could barely have your eyes opened as he began to move, driving himself into you with a ferocity that you’ve never experienced before.

Miguel was dangerous alright–not in the way that he was a vampire, but by the way he knew how to make you feel far too damn good. He was your heaven and hell wrapped up into one.

He sank deeper, lowering his weight until you felt like you couldn't take anymore. Every thrust made you breathless. You could feel his balls slapped against your ass every time he slammed into you, making you moan louder.

The smell of smoky, sweet scent filled your nostrils as he dipped his head and pressed his lips against your neck. You could feel his every grunt reverberating through you from the effort of his movement alone.

That familiar warmth ran down his spine and straight through his balls. He knew he was close, and by the way your pussy was clenching around him, he knew you were close too.

Without a thought, he sank his teeth into you and drank you in as he continued to fuck you. Rapture tore through you with a newfound sensation, unlike anything you felt before. Your body felt like it was floating as coldness seeped through you.

And then an intense, salty coppery taste coated your tongue, filling you and drowning you with it. You realize that Miguel no longer moved as he allowed you to drink from his wrist. His blood filled you, choking you until the darkness took you over.

He sat there, watching as your body lay limp. Anxiety filled him as he waited. Perhaps he took too much, or perhaps he didn’t give you enough.

A faint thud pulled Miguel out of his thoughts. And then Another, and another.

Miguel watched pensively as you slowly opened your eyes. His lips stretched into a smile.

“Welcome to your new life, my love.”

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