What The Freak

[the-nasti-files]

my babies I have pathetic vamp smut for you. whiney little pathetic vamp smut (⁠๑⁠˙⁠❥⁠˙⁠๑⁠)

He’s been hovering all evening, fingers twitching at his sides, fangs worrying his lower lip raw. You pretend not to notice, flipping through a book, but then he drops to his knees beside you with a whimper, forehead pressing against your thigh.

"Baby, please. Just a taste, j-just enough to wet my tongue, I swear I’ll be good." His voice is all ragged honey, shaky palms sliding up your bare calves.

You arch a brow, turning a page pointedly. "Mm. Last time you said that, you got… distracted."

He groans, nuzzling into the crease of your knee. "I won’t, I won’t, I just, fuck, the way your pulse jumps when you sigh, when you look at me like that-" A shudder rolls through him, fangs glinting as he licks his lips. "Can’t even think straight. Smell you everywhere. Please."

You sigh, exasperated, and finally snap the book shut. "Fine but if you-"

He’s on you before the last syllable leaves your mouth.

Mouth on your thigh, teeth grazing but not biting, tongue tracing up to the edge of your shorts with a whine. He shivers, nose brushing your skin like he can breathe you in like a drug. "God you smell so good, taste so good-" He babbles, kissing the soft swell of your hip.

"Easy, Jesus!" you try to warn, fingers coming up to his hair. He moans, arching into your palm, mouth sliding towards the juncture of your thigh.

It's his favorite place, and he's trembly as he tugs your shorts aside, tongue laving over the flesh. "Fuck," he mutters into your skin. "Love being able to smell your pretty cunt while I feed."

He's already delirious as he finally bites down, the groan falling from his throat pure filth when your taste hits his tongue. A nearly pained moan catches in his throat, drinking you in deep, like he'd drown himself in you if he could. Every swallow has him pressing closer, tongue running over you-over the wound-lost entirely to the scent and the feel of you.

You hiss as his fangs draw deeper, fingers tangling in his hair. "Easy," you warn again. "You said a little bite. You said-"

The bastard has the audacity to whine, clutching you tighter with one hand while the other snakes under your underwear.

He makes a broken sound against your skin, his grip tightening as his mouth seals over the twin punctures. Each pull of his lips is worship, raw and desperate, the heat of his tongue circling to soothe the sting. You can feel the way he trembles-not just from hunger, but from the slick, sinful glide of his fingers beneath the lace hem of your panties.

"Liar," you gasp, arching as his touch finds your clit, already swollen from his attention. He groans, the vibration thrumming through your veins.

"Just-fuck-just one more minute," he slurs against your thigh, fingers working you in slow, filthy circles. "Wanna feel you come while I drink. Wanna taste it." His voice is wrecked, pupils blown black with want. "Please, baby, please let me-" He draws back slightly, panting, lips shiny with your blood, eyes gleaming wild with need. "Need it," he growls against your skin, teeth catching. "You taste so perfect. Can I, please? I'll do anything. Please, I'll be good" He laves over the spot he was biting, pressing his cheek against your thigh, whimpering.

"You taste like I'm starving. You have no idea."

His breath hitches as you tangle your fingers deeper in his hair, not pulling him away, just holding. He shudders, lashes fluttering, lips parting on a silent gasp when your nails scrape his scalp. His hips jerk against nothing, the rough fabric of his pants doing nothing to hide how hard he is just from this, from you.

"Mmph-fuck, fuck, please-" His voice cracks, forehead pressing into your thigh again as his fingers dig into your hips. "Tell me, tell me what you want, I’ll-nngh-I’ll do it, just let me-" Another wet, open-mouthed kiss presses over your pulse. "Let me have you. Let me ruin you. Let me-"

His tongue drags up the inside of your thigh, slow, like he’s savoring the threat of your denial. The flat of his teeth graze-not biting, just teasing-just hurting himself with how badly he wants to.

"Or-or push me away. Do it. Curse me, shove me, laugh at me." He heaves a broken chuckle, nose nudging your clothed heat. "I’ll still beg."

The moment your fingers twist tighter in his hair, his entire body seizes, a sharp, punched-out gasp escaping him as his forehead drops heavily against your thigh. His breaths fall in ragged, broken pants, lips hovering just above your skin, trembling with the effort not to dive back in.

"Fuck," His voice is wrecked, syllables slurring into a whine as your nails scrape his scalp. "Y’re killin’ me, sweetheart. Killin’ me."

His tongue darts out to catch a stray bead of blood at the corner of his mouth, eyes fluttering shut at the taste. When he speaks again, it’s muffled against your leg. "Could stay like this forever. On my knees. Your fucking-" A shudder wracks through him. "Your fucking bitch."

He tilts his head up just enough to fix you with glassy, half-lidded eyes, lashes sticking together with the wetness gathering there. "Tell me," he whispers, raw. "Tell me to stop. Please. Or-or don’t."

His hips jerk helplessly against empty air, the rough drag of denim against his cock pulling another ragged noise from his throat. "Just, god, just use me. However you want. Please."

You tug again, coaxing his head up, and his gaze flicks up to you. His expression is a wreck, lips parted, cheeks flushed, eyes so black with need that you almost gasp. "Poor baby," you croon teasingly. "You look so desperate. Are you that hungry?"

He shivers, his tongue running over his fangs. "Yes," he whispers, voice low and ragged. "Starving. Please."

He's barely making sense now, lips brushing hot and worshipful over the wound on your thigh.

He whimpers, licking up the last of the blood and pressing closer, nuzzling his nose into the crease of your hip. His lips run over your flesh, his breath hot against you, and he's so lost that when he speaks, it's nothing but a ragged moan. "More, please, I'm-I need more, I need you… "

He's trembling, the fingers at your hip clenching like he's hanging on to the last of his control. "Please," he whispers again, lips trailing up your stomach now. "Let me fuck you."

Your laughter is soft and indulgent, the way one might humor a particularly persistent stray. "God, you’re pathetic like this," you murmur, tilting his chin up. His pupils swallow any trace of color, lips slick and parted around uneven breaths.

You pause, the time stretching. Just long enough to watch his throat bob.

Then-

"Fine."

The word cracks him open. He surges up before you can blink, hands scrambling at your waistband, fangs catching his own bottom lip in his haste. "Fuck, fuck. Thank you, thank you-" His voice splinters as he yanks your shorts down your thighs, mouth already trailing wet, open kisses along the newly bared skin. "Gonna make you feel so good, swear, swear-"

The couch creaks under his weight as he drags you beneath him, hips rolling in a slow, grinding rhythm against yours before he’s even got his own pants off. Every inch of him trembles with the sheer, dizzying relief of being allowed.

"Absolutely useless when you're like this, aren't you?" His hips jerk when you tug at his jeans, finally freeing his cock. "Made a mess in your own pants," you chide. "Pathetic little thing."

He freezes, breath stuttering, then melts into your touch like wax under a flame, cheeks flushing darker. "Y-yeah," he admits, voice thready, hips giving another aborted roll against nothing. His cock twitches against your thigh, already leaking, ruined just from the taste of you, the promise of more.

His hands fumble as he presses them to your chest, fingers splaying over your heartbeat like he’s trying to memorize its rhythm. "M’sorry," he murmurs, not sounding sorry at all, lips brushing your collarbone. "You own me. Can’t, fuck, can’t even think when you’re this close."

A whine builds in his throat as he noses along your jaw, breath coming in shallow puffs. "Wanna make you feel good," he slurs, tongue darting out to lick a stripe up your neck. "Wanna be good for you. Let me?"

His teeth graze your pulse, asking, always asking, even now. Even when he’s this far gone.

You laugh again, the sound warm and demeaning, fingers twisting tighter in his hair. "Good? You can't even keep your hips still, you're so far gone."

"Not gonna even try to argue," he mumbles. "Yours. I'm yours. All yours. Just… please-"

His voice dissolves into a ragged moan as you yank his head back by the hair, exposing the arch of his throat-his pulse fluttering wildly beneath pale skin. The sight makes your own breath catch. How easily this creature unravels for you, all fangs and feverish hunger, reduced to this.

"Look at you," you coo, thumb brushing the seam of his parted lips. "My greedy little leech. Can’t even form words properly when you’re like this, can you?"

A shudder wracks through him, hips jerking forward instinctively, chasing friction, chasing you. His fingers dig into the couch cushions, knuckles white with restraint. "Nngh, you know I can’t." His words fracture as you tug again, his eyelids fluttering.

"Go on then. Fuck me."

His breath hitches like you’ve struck him. Then his hands are on you, everywhere, mapping the dip of your waist, the curve of your hip, as if he’s starving for the shape of you more than the blood beneath your skin.

"Yes, yes-" The words are a prayer, raw and shattered, as he surges forward, slotting himself between your thighs with a desperation that borders on painful. His cock drags against you, slick and hot, and he chokes on the sensation, forehead dropping to your shoulder. "Fuck, you feel-"

You don’t let him finish.

A twist of your fingers in his hair, a roll of your hips and he’s gone. His thrusts are uneven, frantic, his mouth latching onto your neck not to bite, but to muffle the broken noises you wrench from him. Every snap of his hips is a supplication, every gasp a confession.

Yours.

Yours.

Yours.

And when his fangs finally sink in-deep, perfect-it’s with your name on his lips, a hymn wrapped in a whimper.

"More," you demand.

The moment your command leaves your lips, his restraint shatters. A ragged groan tears from his throat as he drives into you harder, deeper, each thrust punctuated by the wet, filthy drag of his cock, the hungry pull of his mouth at your throat. His fingers dig into the cushions beside your head, trembling with the effort not to grab, not to claim too roughly.

"God, you take me so good," he slurs against your skin, tongue lapping at the blood welling from his bite. "So perfect, so-nngh-tight, warm," His words dissolve into a whine as you clench around him, his hips stuttering.

You can feel him losing it, the way his rhythm fractures, the way his breath comes in broken gasps, the way his fangs scrape your skin when he moans. He’s close, teetering on the edge, and yet-

"Wanna make you come first," he grits out, sweat-slick brow furrowed in concentration. "Please, l-lemme feel you fall apart on me."

His hand slips between you, thumb circling your clit with desperate, reverent pressure. "Like this, yeah? Just like this-"

And when you break, arching with a cry, he follows with a sob of your name, burying his face in your neck as he spills inside you, shaking apart like a man undone.

For a long moment, there’s only the sound of your ragged breaths, the sticky heat between your thighs, the way his fingers still twitch against your hip, possessive even in exhaustion.

Then, softly, against your pulse…

"...Can I have another sip?"

His cheek is still smushed against your chest, lips lazily tracing the curve of your breast as he catches his breath-when his damn fangs click against your skin again. "…Just a tiny one?" he mumbles, all drowsy sin and zero shame.

You flick his ear. "You literally just had a whole meal."

"Mmm. ‘s why it’d be dessert," he argues, nuzzling into the hollow of your throat with a contented hum. His fingers trail down your side, sticky with sweat, sketching idle patterns like he’s memorizing you. "C’mon. You know I get greedy when you ruin me like that."

A pause. Then, with the solemn gravity of a man who absolutely will die without it:

"…I’ll do the dishes for a week."

You huff a laugh, flicking his ear again. "You and I both know you won't."

He gasps dramatically, clutching his chest like you've wounded him. "Betrayal," he whispers, eyes wide with faux horror-before collapsing onto you in a deadweight puddle of vampire theatrics, nose presing into your collarbone. "Fine. But I will dramatically starve to death on this couch now, just so you know. My last words will be... 'I told her I needed a snack...'"

(⁠ ⁠ꈍ⁠ᴗ⁠ꈍ⁠)

[peachyaftrdark]

MY HOUSE, MY RULES

in which your masochistic stalker tries to break into your house, but Youre an ex military officer; youre trained on torture.

cw: choking, knife(play?), blood(play?), suggestive content, sub and maso char, femdxm sadist reader, gagging, descriptions of gore, hitting

art credit: @pyanyasha on x

3:00 AM on the dot—the moment your stalker makes his first mistake, walking into your house.

His hand trembled as he reached for the doorknob, the ice cold feel when he turned it made his muscles twitch in excitement. He knew exactly what he was getting into. You think he didn't know what you used to be? It's so frustrating—knowing you could have so much control over him, make him feel such aching, nauseating pain without feeling a drop of remorse. Not everybody can handle doing something like that, not someone as beautiful as you, and that's why he's so desperate.

He drags his feet as he steps onto your wooden floor.

please hear me.. please please please

and then he feels it. a sharp stinging sensation that sends his whole body into a seizure-like state. He falls to the ground, almost foaming at the mouth once he sees your face above him. Then suddenly, his vision goes dark.

Of course you tased him—with a military grade taser sure—but it was all you had on hand! it was self defense!

You had suspected someone was watching you for a while, and with your past, you knew it'd happen sooner or later. But.. who is this guy? He's not buff, in fact quite the opposite. He's the type of guy you'd see at school and think he does nothing but watch porn and jerk off all day, but still somehow attractive.

You drag him down to the basement and tie him up to a chair, classic kidnapper style, like how you'd see it in a movie. Hands behind the chair, and ankles taped to the legs of the chair. ten minutes later.. he finally wakes up with a gasp, his voice trembling as he lets out a whiny exhale. his face is pale as if he were undead, but he quickly regains that color—turns red even, when he looks up to meet your gaze.

"whats your name." you ask, but it doesn't sound like a question..more like a demand

he shuddered in both fear and excitement.

"Hi.." he murmured, his voice was brittle and honeyed. the corner of his lips quirked up into a dreadfully awkward smile.

what a fucking weirdo.

You take slow strides toward him, invading his personal space as you loom over him; a predator hunting its prey. He's loving every moment of this.

"who sent you."

he stared blankly at you for a moment, eyelashes batting in innocence.

"haah..I-I'm not gonna tell you shit!"

he shudders, suddenly he takes on the role of some evil spy.

suspicious

You think, but, he is a man who just broke into your house... better to be safe than sorry, right? So, you grab a pocket knife out of the thin pockets of your pajamas, and flip it open, revealing the sharp blade. With slight hesitation, You gently press the blade to his jawline, gliding it down to his neck.

"Are you sure youre not gonna tell me anything?"

he nods, painfully aware of how the knife pressed to his neck digs deeper into his skin everytime a muscle twitches.

You lean in close to whisper into his ear.

"You know what i could do to you with this knife?" you notice his ears turning beet red, but don't find a means to point it out.

"I could skin you alive until youre a walking scab, make leather out of your skin..." You pull back, his ear now sweaty from the condensation of your breath, and you look at his face—that expression. his eyes were blown wide open, cheeks flushed, sweat dripping down his face, and lips slightly parted; drool threatening to spill out of them. it was unlike anything you've seen before in a torture victim, and it just pushes you further, to see what other expressions he could make. on a whim, You take the knife away from his neck to cut the rope holding his arms hostage. He lets out a shaky exhale and moves his hands from behind the chair to hover over his lap, you watch as he looks at the red marks that cover his wrists, and you swear you could see his mouth curve up into a smile..until he bites his lower lip. You grab one of his hands, and you take note of how his breathing gets heavier and quicker, so much so that his shoulders start to oscillate up and down. You intertwine your fingers with his. His fingers are long and slim.. perfect for—

not right now. focus.

"...or, i could take these pretty hands of yours and saw them off, put em in a little jar so i could use them whenever I want to."

You meet his stare, but it's fleeting, as soon as his eyes meet yours, they suddenly face the ground—as if he were scared his gaze would pierce daggers.

"really.." he gulps, "w-what would you use them for—urk!" he twitches harshly once he feels your blade slice deep into the palm of his hand. He watches you for a moment, but once he feels Your warm tongue contrast his cold hand, his world starts to spin. You lap up the blood, slow, careful licks that forces him to slap his other hand over his mouth. The metallic and salty flavor of his blood infiltrates your mouth, and you feel your eyes start to flutter shut.

this is crazy, why are you enjoying this?!

but his noises were too good to stop. You suck on his cut, trying to get every last drop of blood out of it, forcing a muffled whimper out of him. You can only imagine the face he's making right now. eyes squinted shut so hard that there's tears peeking out of the corners of them, hand covering his mouth, chest heaving, his curly hair stuck to his forehead...as good as it is in your mind, you have to see for yourself. seperating yourself from the makeout session with his palm, you peek over to see him just as you thought, but it's better in person.

He has a giant tent in his pants, one that you surprisingly haven't noticed yet, and he scoots around in his seat to hide how his jeans begin to darken from him leaking.

we all know that seduction is a great method for getting intel out of someone, women have been doing it to men for years...so this isn't that bad.. right?

Your hand finds its way to his again, interlocking fingers, but then Your other hand moves towards his face, grabbing his other hand that's covering his mouth. it's wet and warm from how hard he was breathing into it, but it doesn't matter to you, all you want to do right now is see how far you could push him, until he breaks. You lean in close, your breaths mingling, you can tell how nervous he is. the way his hands squeeze yours, how his breath hitches every time you move. so you step back, and tie his wrists together behind the chair again, it's more fun this way; he can't stop you.

"i'll make a deal with you." you pick the knife up from the floor, "i'll untie these ropes if i can't get you to confess anything within 30 minutes, but if you do, then i guess i'll just have to have my way with you until you wither and die down here." you wave the knife in his face. You see the way his lips press into a thin line, he knows youre getting serious now, and it's exhilarating.

"y-yeah. sure. deal."

The corner of your lips perk up into a smile, "Good boy.." you purr, setting an alarm on your phone before you swiftly lean in, smashing his lips into yours.

MINUTE 1.

Your lips move and mold together as if they were made to. it took no effort to make the kiss sloppy and wet; his piled up saliva instantly poured into your mouth. he suddenly whimpers into your mouth. the slick and warm feeling of your tongue gliding flat against his bottom lip is enough to make him cum right then and there, but he doesn't, instead he parts his lips, letting your tongue slide into his mouth to circle around his. you lick slowly into his mouth before biting hard on his bottom lip, drawing blood and a whine out of him. What he didn't expect, was how Your hands fit perfectly around his neck, and how you squeezed so hard he flinched.

You pull back from the kiss, a string of saliva following you as you watch the rest of it fall down the corner of his lip.

"p-please.." he whimpers, but his voice comes out in cracks, broken.

but what really gets you concerned is how his eyes roll to the back of his head, how he doesn't make an effort to pull Your hands off of him; wiggle around in the chair, or how he lets out a moan when his face turns purple and his eyelids start to flutter shut.

You take your hands off of his neck, he comes back to life with a sharp inhale.

"haah.. do it again miss.. harder." he chuckles, voice whiny and broken.

now this i didn't expect.

"Miss? i'm not an old lady you know." you tease, flicking his forehead

"i'm sorry" he gasps, "what should i call you then?.."

"i'm sure you already know my name."

he does, but not in the way you think

you grab the pocket knife again, and without hesitation, you move to sit onto his lap, straddling him.

"urk! uhm.. i-" his voice cracks, his bulge presses hard against your thigh, catching you both off guard.

"You what?" you look into his eyes—there it is again, it's starting to piss you off, how he refuses to make eye contact. You grab his face and force him to look at you "look at me, or else i'll slice big X's into your eyes, then you won't be able to look at anything anymore." your nails dig into his cheeks.

he clears his throat, but it still cracks. "do it."

MINUTE 10.

Your eyes widen in disbelief, the nerve he has. But besides that, you do plan on cutting him up a little. so you bring the knife up to his face, pressing hard enough to draw blood, and slowly drag down, the slice gapes open to where you can see white, not enough to see fat though, it's perfect. The sting sends shivers through his whole body, the cold smoothness of the knife electrifying him.

blood instantly starts to pool up into the cut, to drip down his face. He chokes on his own gasp when you dive towards his neck. You place open mouthed kisses that follow the trail of his blood spill, licking it up as you go, wet patches forming along his neck. he lets out a strangled sob at your movements, hips grinding against his. blood drops into the crook of your nose; you recognize the metallic flavor as it drips into your mouth, but that doesn't stop you. You suck hard onto his neck, and bite it, working on the singular spot until it turns as purple as his face was earlier.

that's not going away for a while.

"F-Fuck!" he sputters, your name leaves his lips in short gasps. You bring your lips off of his neck with a "pop!", and he takes the opportunity to look at your face, blood dripping from Your nose down to your lips..and you look at his. eyelids heavy and kiss swollen lips parted slightly, the way he looked at you was lewd, and it made your stomach twist with feelings you've never felt before.

"You wanna taste?" you rasped, dragging Your pointer finger and middle finger against his cut. he hisses, a crease forming between his eyebrows as you dig into his cut. but before he could open his eyes, your fingers were already in his mouth. he starts gagging when you forcefully press on his tongue, and you chuckle. he looks like he's struggling, having a hard time not throwing up on your fingers, and you were right on the money. he struggles in the chair, whining and gagging all at once,

"sto-ugh-op" he chokes out, tears well up in his eyes before spilling out onto his face. his nose and eyes start to flush pink, he's crying?

"i'll stop when you tell me who sent you."

"im gonna.." he hiccups, and at that you pull your fingers out of his mouth, you wipe them off on his shirt. You want answers, but you want a stranger to throw up on you even less.

MINUTE 20.

You watch carefully as he sniffles, you assume a few tears slipped out because he was gagging so hard, it's hard to tell with him though. he sits still in his chair now, breathing heavily, drool spills from the corner of his mouth, and his face is stained with tears, blood.

"gosh... Youre a mess." You say, but it was perfect. and you felt that you were getting close to him confessing.

yet after all of this, he still isn't satisfied. not enough choking, not enough cutting, not enough slapping or bruising. he has an insatiable appetite for pain, he's so close, but so far. so he comes up with an idea. if he could just get you mad enough to do something even more extreme, he wouldn't have to go through all this fucking edging. hesitantly, he spits in your face, it landing right in between your brows.

You stand up and stumble backwards, you grip the knife harder, knuckles turning white.

"the fuck?"

You wipe your face with the back of your hand—a disgusting mixture of saliva and blood residue sticking to you. You were so sure he was enjoying this, which pissed you off even more, but now he's acting out? You gotta put him in his place don't you think? suddenly, you lunge towards him, kicking his chair to the ground. he hits the cold concrete with a thud and a groan.

You squat down next to him. he lies on his side, looking up at you as if you were a god, almost drooling at your natural scent, lip bleeding.

"stop looking at me like that!" you grab him by the hair, his scalp turning red at the force of your grip. he holds back a smile.

BANG!

You slam his head against the floor, his whole body shakes as he lets out a choked sob.

"what is it? are you still having fun?" You hiss

his vision is blurry now, yet, you look like an angel amidst the pain.

harder

he wants to say, but he can't get his mouth to move, too caught up in his own sick aphrodisiac.

BANG!

again.

BANG!

and again,

BANG!

and again.

"haah..." he moans, blood drips down his forehead, and his hips jerk against nothing. He relishes in the dirty, physical degradation, fuck. he's on the verge of cumming right there. the world spins and he feels his eyes roll to the back of his head.

You whip your head around, and see the bulge in his pants, bigger than ever. finally, you have a good idea. You sit on the ground next to the bleeding man, and lean towards his crotch, tracing his print. he twitches aggressively, waking up from his trance, he's scared now.

"what—"

"this is your problem isn't it? if you tell me everything you know.. maybe i'll put it in my mouth?" You tease. suddenly he can't breathe, stuck between blowing his cover and getting a blowjob from the love of his life.

5.

"I..."

4.

You thumb the clothed tip, precum coating your finger.

3.

He lets out a choked sob, body trembling violently.

2.

"cmon.."

1.

"Fuck.."

0.

the alarm you set on your phone buzzes, echoing your ringtone. You stand up and turn it off.

keeping your word, You bring the chair upright again, and untie the ropes.

"Get out of here."

a/n: hi guys yes there will be a part two ( <- click on "part 2"!!) i'm not done with this loser 🥹✌️ also i'm not that Good at smut so forgive My mistakes lell

PSA: this is a work of fiction. pls do not attempt to do anything mentioned unless both parties consent and are mentally stable, consent is very attractive. and yall if You suspect someone is stalking You please call the police or tell someone You trust life is not a fanfic unfortunately 😅 stay safe - peach <3

[batfreak87]

yo can I hit

As long as I can suck yo blood and yo pussy 👅🦇