Naamloos

I have an AO3 with the same username :)

[dontcrushmyheart]

Hi!

I would love to start taking fic recs on here. I haven't posted much but I'll change that soon enough :) Strictly 18+ though, MDNI.

I'm trying to make most of this page Him/Ville valo and Jackass fics so feel free to hmu if you have any fun ideas because I run out sometimes lolll.

Won't write: Rape, Incest, anything with minors, beastiality

Will write: Smut, fluff, hurt/comfort, sub/dom, kinks and fetishes, (mentions of) self harm

(Asks closed!!)

[dontcrushmyheart]

Sooo like... what's everyone's fav daddy Ville era? For me it's this specific Loudwire interview from 2015. The arms and hands. The deep voice. The MANSPREAD. Somebody restrain me.

[dontcrushmyheart]

hello!! ive a suggestion for you that’s been on my mind and there are no better hands to put it in 🥹

reader is friends with bam and got introduced to HIM by him (lol), and during a stay that bam has with the band for directing, he brings her along the ride. [forced proximity lowk] during the process, reader and ville connect deeply and have fleeting moments of tension that changes the air between them a little more each time 😝 [picturing reader being a self-proclaimed photographer and taking flicks of ville in a quiet setting before a shoot and holy it’s intimate]

i love a “you randomly came into my life yet it feels like ive known you forever,” and it can end with an explosion of the feelings they’ve been holding back this entire time, whether it be smut or just a dramatic makeout sesh, it’s up to you!!

tysm for considering if you do!! i love your writing so so much you might be the only reason this app is still downloaded on my phone 🫶🫶

Hey, Little Sister

Hellooooo!!! I'm having a bit of a writers block atm so this isn't the biggest masterpiece I've ever put out (so sorry). Decided to go with the sacrament MV because Ville just looks so pretty in it... anyways.

And thank you so much for all the love, anon!! It's so great to see people enjoying my writing. Many kisses. Tags: Eventual smut, but not a whole lot of it, making out, domestic cuteness and fluff, sexual tension Word count: 3.48K

April 2003, Czech Republic.

Neon lights illuminated rain-slick cobblestone alleyways. You, the only girl in a group of seven, trying to integrate yourself into your brother’s dorky friend group. Well, dorky, but maybe not that dorky. These guys had really made a name for themselves over the past six years.

Stoic Finns, they were, true rockers who lived only on beer, vodka, and pizza. Sure, Bam had roped you into the local scene back home, but this was a whole new can of worms. This wasn’t just the scene; it was one of the bands that upheld it, and a pretty hot topic for teenage girls… plus your brother. He seemed all over the singer, too. You could almost see them walking hand in hand, skipping down the streets—at least after a few beers.

Though you had to admit, the singer was pretty hot. Maybe even sexy. A heartthrob? Well, in short, Bam wasn’t the only one interested in him, if he was.

The lot of you had just had a nice dinner, downed the first of many beers, and were now on the lookout for a dive bar that wouldn’t recognize any of you. Not that you hated it, of course—the recognition—but you needed some time off, and enough beers to knock you right out of jetlag. You couldn’t even make it through yesterday’s breakfast without dozing off.

“How’re you holding up?” Ville seemed to have quietly snuck up on you. He wore that long, black coat of his, and his beanie sat pulled over his eyebrows. “You were still pretty tired this morning, huh?”

You had to recalibrate for a second, gazing at him in awe. If only he knew how madly attractive you found him, and how it felt like the two of you had been friends for ages. “I had to skip the nap today, figured it’d be best if I push through until tonight and then just reset my sleep schedule.”

“So, I’ll need to keep you awake with vodka Redbulls?” He pulled a pack of cigarettes from his pocket, handing you one. He lit his first, stopping for a second to do so.

“Shit, I don’t have a lighter.” You tutted, the cigarette hanging from your lips while you patted your pockets. Ville didn’t hesitate one second to step over and light it for you. The lighter wouldn’t work the first few flicks, and by the time you could take a drag, the rest of the group was about fifty feet ahead. Luckily, this meant you and Ville could chat unbothered on the way to the bar.

Finally, you were settled in a booth, sat next to Mige and Ville, drinking whatever you were offered. Drinks were far cheaper in Prague, though you made sure to stay out of the more touristy areas for exactly that reason.

Ville was, admirably, singing along to the Billy Idol song that played on the PA, bopping his head and thrumming his fingers on the table to its beat. White Wedding, you loved that song.

“You seem like a Billy Idol type.” You quipped to Ville, leaning on your now-empty glass, which had been the third vodka-Redbull ordered for you. He smiled in response, adoringly so, a slight flush on his cheeks from the beers he’d had—though obviously you, as a meager Pennsylvanian, didn’t stand a chance against this Finn.

He smiled, a genuine, happy grin that showed the little gap between his two front teeth. You swore that for a second, you could see right past those green eyes, directly into his soul. Fuck, you were tipsy. He was cute, but there were all these people around.

“You’re trying to flatter me?” He giggled cutely, loosely grabbing your wrist to fiddle with the beaded bracelet around it, his fingers thick and calloused against your skin. “I’m already buying you all your drinks, sweetheart. What’re you getting at, huh?”

“What? It’s just an observation.” You pouted, grabbing his beer to sip at it. He noticed, but didn’t care, too busy listening to you. “I’m a photographer. Observation is my thing.”

“You just said you like to watch.” He laughed again, poking your cheek as it began to flush. You had to admit, though, you were so tired. You could barely keep your eyes open.

“Don’t pass out on us yet,” Burton mumbled from the other side of the table, laughing when you gave him a tired gaze. “The night’s still young, why don’t you dance?”

“Yeah,” Ville slung one of his lanky arms around you, squeezing your shoulder before coaxing you out of the booth and toward the open area. It wasn’t exactly a dance floor, other than the fact that it was a floor you could technically dance on as long as you were careful not to knock any drinks over with your butt.

Then, you were there, dancing stupidly in a small bar in Prague with possibly the hottest and dorkiest man you’d ever met, not giving a single fuck about prying eyes—if anyone was looking in the first place. All the middle-aged patrons seemed to be too busy drowning in their sorrow to even acknowledge the two idiots flailing around like—well, idiots.

His hands were on your hips, on your waist, around you. Fuck, you couldn’t get enough.

Actually, no. You’d had enough of the dancing and festivities, though, not of Ville. You could never get enough of that man. After a song or two, your body was seriously succumbing to the pull of sleep, something you’d neglected to do for a good twenty-four hours. Initially, you told Bam, but Ville was quick to volunteer to bring you back to the hotel. Then you were outside again, and it had started to rain. Prague seemed mostly dead at this time, whatever time it was.

“Fuck,” You sighed, trudging behind Ville like an absolute zombie, reaching for his sleeve to hold and keep up.

“The hotel’s only a few blocks away.” Ville turned around, lowering his gaze to you with a raised eyebrow. Your hand on his sleeve, tugging like a kid. “You think you can make it?”

You should’ve been able to, yes, but your body was protesting fiercely. Every muscle relaxed, and you swore you could’ve just found a ditch somewhere to take a power nap in. Anything would be better than staying awake at this point, as much as you would grieve Ville’s presence when you were eventually alone in your hotel room.

The larger man sighed, laughing to himself as the rain got caught in his lashes. It wasn’t raining that hard, but just hard enough for it to be cold and uncomfortable.

“Okay, hop on my back. I’ll get you to the hotel.”

Well, you certainly couldn’t say no to a piggyback ride from Mr. Idol, and happily, you hopped on. He smelled pleasantly of musk and cigarettes, as well as soap and a hint of sandalwood. You always noticed it whenever he would hug you or get closer.

He carried you along alleyways, over the wet cobblestone, past a bunch of fellow Czech drunks, and finally to the hotel. Inside, you were royally out of place amongst all the white tiles and elderly rich couples, giggling drunkenly to yourselves as Ville hoisted you into the elevator, and finally to your room.

You were dripping rainwater on the carpet once inside, peeling off your coat and tossing it somewhere.

“Fuck, uhm…” Ville glanced at you as you turned around, patting down his pockets and smacking his lips once. His Finnish accent seemed to have thickened slightly with intoxication. “Linde has our room key... Do you mind if I wait in here?”

Ville and you, together in a hotel room, drunk and tired? Fuck yes. You had to stop yourself from cheering out loud at this revelation.

But, of course, you kept coy.

“Yeah, sure. I have some booze left in the minifridge.”

You spun around with a slight wobble, Ville’s adorable giggle echoing through the room at your antics. He hung up his coat and beanie, only to notice his shirt was completely soaked as well.

“Should’ve brought a fucking raincoat, huh?” He murmured with a slightly annoyed tone, peeling the wet fabric off his sides with a shiver. “Sorry, do you mind if I just take this thing off and hang it to dry?”

“uh…” You blinked, your cheeks immediately flushing at the mere thought of him shirtless. Fuck, you felt like a teenager. Who even goes crazy over just some skin like that? “Sure.”

Ville raised his eyebrow as he shot you a suspicious glance, easily tugging off his wet shirt and hanging it over the radiator at the other end of the room. You just about passed out at the sight of his tattoos, his waist, his jutting hips—fuck. He was even hotter than you expected, if his gorgeous face hadn’t already been a sight for sore eyes. Ville barely seemed to notice your prying eyes, though you’d found him to be quite coy and maybe even a little insecure.

“Hey, um,” You pursed your lips, looking up at him from the bed as he paced toward your minifridge in search of more booze. “I actually… brought my camera. I was going to ask you sooner, I just—” got nervous, you wanted to say “—I forgot.”

“Ask me what?” Ville rose to his feet after crouching and poaching some beer from your fridge, tilting his head like a puppy and tucking a strand of damp hair behind his ear.

“I just wanted to take some pictures.”

“Right. I almost forgot that.”

“Well, yeah. I’m not a professional, though, I just wanted some material to put in my portfolio.”

“Ah, shut up. I bet you’re an amazing photographer. What do you suggest?”

Then, right as you were about to give a serious answer, Ville began posing jokingly, turning around and jutting his butt out. You burst out into a series of giggles, harmonizing with his. It really felt as if you’d been friends for ages, even if he was seven years your senior, and undeniably much cooler.

“Alright, alright, calm down.” You laughed. “I was thinking we could maybe get to that mansion early, before the shoot starts? I thought you’d look pretty in the morning sun.”

“Pretty?” He teased, smiling adorably at you as he flopped himself on the bed, though at a reasonable distance away from you. “Let's do it. I trust your vision.”

The two of you chatted for maybe an hour or two, maybe more, you didn’t know. Somewhere along the way, you’d begun dozing off, and it was all foggy from there.

The next morning, you were up at six am sharp, managing to down a single cup of instant coffee and fix your makeup. Just a little black eyeliner and mascara, nothing crazy, but nice enough to wear around Ville. After that, you both snagged a quick sandwich from a gas station and went on your way. Somehow, you managed to get there by bus, despite the lack of English-speaking people.

The lawn was still wet with rain as you and Ville trudged tiredly across it, mumbling to each other about obscure stoner-rock albums, which initially came up because Ville mentioned being a stoner in his teen years. Then, finally, you were inside, shivering lightly from the crisp morning air, your voices echoing through large, ornate halls as you walked up a carpeted set of stairs.

“So, how do you want me?” Ville followed behind, clad in his jacket, fingerless gloves, and a beanie, pacing around and taking in his surroundings as you found a marble bench to set up your camera. It was an expensive thing, paid for by Bam as a birthday gift.

How did you want him? Fuck, on the carpet, on the stairs, on that big piano on the first floor…

No, no, that’s not what he was asking.

“Let's see…” You paced around, looking for a perfect spot. Finally, you settled on making him stand on the grand balcony, his back turned toward the orange sun, rays of light cascading down his figure. He stood with his arms out, gripping the railing, staring right into your camera like he wanted to devour you.

But it was just his model face, the pretty eyes, and plump lips that got him from picture to poster on some teenage girl’s wall (or on your brother’s wall, for that matter). You’d seen it many times before, it was almost natural when the cameras were out.

“I think these are pretty good.” You nodded, shielding the little LED screen from the sunlight to look at some of the pictures. When you looked up, Ville had an almost admirable expression, his eyes soft and focused on you. You almost melt into a puddle at the spot.

“What? What’s that look for?” You dared to quip at him with a mockingly snappy tone. He laughed, then strutted back into the grand room.

“I just think it’s sweet that you’re so into this.” He replied in a husky tone, spinning around and walking backwards. You couldn’t resist snapping a couple more pictures of him like this.

Ville laughed sweetly, still admiring you as he came to a halt about eight feet away. The room was entirely silent save for a few cooing pigeons outside and the soft pad of your boots along the marble. His look was unreadable, but very intense. Everything seemed so silent and intense all of a sudden, and you neared him more and more, his eyes following you.

“How long until the rest gets here?” He quipped softly, his deep voice echoing through the large room, though it was noticeably quieter as you stood by him, resisting the urge to kiss him.

“Uh… half an hour?”

Ville nodded, looking around the room for a second and wobbling awkwardly on his feet, looking like there were words stuck in his chest. You stood by him, following his gaze until you noticed it had landed on you again. It was hot, yet vulnerable.

“Do… do you think Bam minds me?” He murmured, uncharacteristically soft and sheepish. Vague, too, but Ville was a regular poet. “I mean, would he?”

All you could muster was a confused chuckle, unsure what he meant with this remark. He even seemed a little nervous when looking back down at you, taking off his beanie to fiddle with it. In the back of your mind, you could only think of how pretty he looked in the morning light. “What do you mean? I think he loves you more than he loves me.”

“No, I mean… If I were to spend more time with you.”

Your heart thudded like an engine coming to life. You shuddered, then blushed, and slowly your dry skin grew damp with a nervous sweat. “He… I don’t know. Aren’t you too busy for that?” You tried to lift the awkwardness a little, making Ville laugh just a little. He looked absolutely lovestruck, intense in a way you’d never experienced.

“I’m really going to miss you after this, I think.” He sighed, carefully reaching out to take your camera from you. For a moment, you thought he was going to take a picture, but all he did was stow it on a nearby windowsill.

“So… what do you think of me?” You murmured, allowing Ville to loosely lay a hand on your hip, stroking your jacket with his thumb.

“I think you’re the cutest thing.” He admitted, his cheeks flushing as he stared down at you. “I just want to be around you all the time. Honestly, I wouldn’t care what we do, as long as I get to enjoy your presence.”

Then, you let your attraction lead you. Your hands ran up Ville’s jacket, then rested on his shoulders, drawing another toothy smile from him. It was as if he read your thoughts when you could only think “kiss me, kiss me, kiss me”, promptly leaning down to catch your cold lips as his arms wrapped firmly around your waist, your breasts squished against his chest as he tugged you close.

Despite his rough grip and kisses, he exhumed nothing but love. There wasn’t a single hint of mindless lust or want, only attraction, and maybe even devotion. His tongue tasted like cigarettes and strawberry jam when it finally made its way past your lips, dancing effortlessly with yours, though he seemed a little clumsier than you would expect from a decently seasoned rockstar.

Then, his big hands began to wander, his fingers brushing your ass before they slid north, resting on your shoulder blades as he broke away from the kiss.

“Should’ve done this last night,” He grumbled, kissing your cheek once, then your forehead as his hands made their way to your chest, groping it before undoing your jacket and tossing it somewhere on the floor. You followed, unbuttoning his as well and tossing it on the same pile.

Your arms wrapped around his waist, pulling him close with a cheeky laugh, feeling the ever-present prod of his erect member. He moaned as he kissed you again, allowing his hand to steer south and cup your heat.

This, of course, would’ve been better if it had been last night, in your hotel room. But it was happening now, and Ville didn’t care if the two of you were in a room with way too many floor-to-ceiling windows, his lips trailing hungrily to your neck as his finger calmly swiped at your clothed bud. All you could do was moan and hold him close, running your fingers through his soft hair before trailing one hand down to his crotch.

“Are you sure you want this?” He murmured against your skin before breaking away. Pure love and lust burned in his eyes as they met yours, gauging every emotion you could possibly be having. “Because… we don’t have any protection.”

“What, d’you want to stop now?” You murmured in response, watching Ville bite his lip when you ran your thumb over the tip of his swollen cock. “We can get creative.”

“As long as you’re happy, I’m happy.” He carefully pulled his hand away, slipping off his glove before undoing your fly and allowing himself inside your pants. You breathed heavily in tandem, and soon you were freeing him of his jeans. He was hot and twitched slightly when you wrapped your hand around his shaft, inspecting his expression while he circled your clit.

Carefully, you pumped him, your other arm wrapped around his slender waist, your head resting against his chest where you heard his heart pound. The noises you made continued to echo through the room, bouncing off the high ceilings as Ville carefully slipped a finger inside you. You stood there writing, bucking your hips into his hand, wishing it were his cock and not just his fingers.

Maybe later, maybe even tonight, if either of you could slip away and snatch a pack of condoms, you’d properly let him inside. Now it was all you could think of, him pumping in and out... and in, and out. Just like his thick, cold fingers.

He caught your lips again, skillfully multitasking and letting out the sweetest, neediest moans in your mouth. Your pace on him followed his on you, precum dripping from his cock as he twitched over and over. You had a feeling he wasn’t going to last.

Then, right as he’d mustered up the courage to add a second digit, a loud thud alarmed the two of you. You were alert in a second, giving each other panicked looks as you realized this noise had been the main door. The rest of the crew was already here, and you heard their chatter down the grand stairs.

“Fuck, fuck,” You groaned, utterly displeased with the absence of Ville’s hand when he pulled it away, licking his fingers clean and keeping eye contact as if nearly getting caught wasn’t bad enough.

Once he’d, begrudgingly, tucked himself in his pants, the two of you noticed his bulge wasn’t willing away. He quickly retrieved his jacked to cover himself up, right before Gas and Bam came up the stairs, chattering away. You hoped to god neither you nor Ville smelled like sex.

“You’re here already?” You stammered, painfully aware of your kiss-swollen lips, trying your best to conceal them one way or another.

“We figured we’d start earlier and have the rest of the day off.” Bam replied, seeming sleepy still.

Mige followed behind and gave you an utterly suspicious glance. You were all red and sweaty, your jacket was on the floor, and Ville was missing a glove.

“You two are idiots.” He whispered while walking past you, your brother still blissfully aware as he crossed the room.

[dontcrushmyheart]

Heard someone make a mildly homophobic comment behind me at the new Jackass movie… sir do you realize you’re IN Homoville right now??? My culture is not your costume dude… get outta this theater rn I know you haven’t even seen the other movies

[dontcrushmyheart]

Small update

Hi, I'm currently not doing well mentally. I'll get to your requests soon (some I already started working on), but everything is just horrible for me right now. Thank you. Many kisses.

[graveyrrdgirl]

This era oh my GOD

[dontcrushmyheart]

BBBBEEEAAARDDDD MUSTAAACHEEEE

[dontcrushmyheart]

Not a request (sorry!) but just know I love your writing and you totally carry with the reader fanfics! You write amazingly and I love your work!!!!

Thankyousomucchhh, anon!!! I love seeing these types of messages in my inbox from time to time. Like someone got a carrier pigeon to send me a scroll of parchment. You made my morning just now :)))

[dontcrushmyheart]

My asks are back opennnn!! I have a daddy Ville request that I REALLY want to write, but I can't for the love of me come up with a good plot. I'm sure there's someone out here who can tell me what to do like a little worm in my gross lil brain...

[dontcrushmyheart]

Hey! I’m craving some nasty smut with Love metal era Ville, maybe backstage, his dressing room or even in the band’s tour bus? Thank you in advance!

Would You Bite The Hand That Feeds?

Ville x fem!reader smut

I have returrrrrnnneedddd!!! I think I might open my asks sometime soon, but the stuff that's been marinating in my inbox might have to go (so sorry). I hope you, my dear Anon, love Mustache Valo as much as I do. Thank u... Tags: Bitchy Ville, 2004-ish, unsafe sex, cunnilingus, sexual tension, reader is HIM's touring assistant Word count: 3.8K

A busy night, both for the band and for you. For some reason, all the members had gotten these fancy, individual dressing rooms—which would’ve been fine, had you not been expected to rush between them constantly. This was a job for more than just one assistant.

An assistant- god, what had you gotten yourself into? They were acquaintances first, and now you were working for them, sleeping in their bus, handling logistics and settling debates like some community mom. At least most of them left you alone, calling you over only when they needed some assistance with their makeup or instruments.

Ville had at first seemed like the most reserved out of the group. Ever since joining them on their 2004 tour, however, he’d slowly started growing into a drunken, needy brat. He’d call you often, usually for mundane things like buying him more cigarettes and beer, or helping him with his eyeliner (which you knew he was capable of doing himself).

Right now, you were helping Linde with some of his hair when your phone rang. Upon picking up, you heard Ville exclaim loudly, a slight slur to his deep voice.

“Sweetheart, can you get me another beer?” Always with the pet names, anything to get you to work faster for him. To be entirely fair, you didn’t particularly hate it when he called you such names, or when he lugged you around by the waist or the hand on off-duty hours at a bar or club.

“Ville, I’m kinda busy, I’ll stop by in a bit, ‘kay?”

“You’re no fun.” You could almost hear the pout in his voice, a cigarette faintly crackling in the background as he took a drag. Whilst wedging your phone between your shoulder and ear, you continued your work on Linde’s blonde locs, carefully separating a few that had begun to knot together.

“Yeah, yeah, do you need anything else? This building is too big for me to keep walkin’ back and forth all the time.”

“Nope.” Ville popped his ‘p’, promptly hanging up. You stayed by Linde for maybe ten more minutes, then left and set off toward a fancy little food hall, grabbing two ice-cold bottles of beer from the mini fridge before setting back off to Ville’s dressing room. Inside, he sat propped up on a vanity chair like the prince he was, puffing idly at what was probably the thirtieth cigarette that day.

“Here you go.” You thumped the two bottles down in front of him, watching him open them with one of his keys. His eyes looked tired, already tipsy, and the ashtray that had been empty only an hour ago was now overflowing with cigarette butts. Ville was in a bad mood about something, you could sense it. This giddy, needy front of his was hiding his true feelings.

“What?” He murmured after gulping down some beer, watching you lean against his vanity and look around the messy room that you would, most likely, be in charge of cleaning after the show was over. “You’re lookin’ at me like I did something wrong.”

“You look like you’re in a bad mood.” You murmured, inspecting his lidded, green eyes, ringed with dark eyeliner. He barely even attempted to make eye contact, instead staring at himself through the mirror while alternating between his beer and cigarette.

“I’m fine.” With a deep sigh, he slumped down in his chair, now staring up at the ceiling. The room went silent, save for the distant chant of HIM fans in the venue, thousands of voices calling out for Ville to take the stage.

“You’re on in ten.” You replied corporately, fixing a single strand of his hair before walking out. Ville’s sour mood followed you out of the room, just like his eyes that lingered on your ass. It wasn’t like you hadn’t noticed his blatant flirting before, or the way he looked at you after one too many drinks.

Then, when showtime was finally on, you watched from the sidelines as Ville effortlessly sang all of his biggest hits, entertaining a crowd of beautiful women and men alike, all swooning over his looks. If only they knew how he was after the shows and the meet ‘n greets, always huffing down the back of your neck and demanding you work for him, do all his stupid chores. But you couldn’t deny him, of course.

Frequently he’d break out of his diva attitude to be flirty and loving, and you felt yourself swoon just as his fans did, even while knowing he could be a serious pain in the ass.

By the end of the show, you were providing the five men with clean towels for their sweaty faces and necks, as well as fresh bottles of water, which they downed. Then out came Ville, looking… pissed? You and Linde shared a look, then shook it off as Ville pried the bottle of water from your hands and strutted off to his dressing room, wiping neurotically at the strands of hair that stuck to his sweaty face.

“What’s up his ass?” You shamelessly quipped, a door shut loudly somewhere along the hallway.

Gas sighed loudly, still catching his breath as he dabbed the towel over his face. “Fuck if we know. You know how he gets.”

“Probably just the stage high or something, you know he starts acting like a whole diva when praised too much. Just leave him, he’ll snap out of it.” Mige added to the conversation, already stumbling off to his own dressing room, as well as the other three, leaving you mildly annoyed in a cold hallway that had been entirely dipped in pale yellow paint… and dust. The chatter of fans dissipating out of the hall still rang loud even backstage.

“Whatever.” You sighed to yourself. Sometimes you were convinced he did it to annoy people, or to get his way. He’d never been patient before in his life. So, outside you went, taking in the cold night air and lighting up a cigarette. You’d go to bed already, but the band wasn’t done yet—or Ville, in particular, probably wasn’t. Then, like the devil, he rang your phone. You knew it was him, because the other four never dared to shoot you a text or call whenever they needed something. They would simply wait until you were close enough to ask for assistance.

“Yeah?” You replied tiredly, sucking annoyedly at your cig. So much for some fresh air. “Make it quick, please, I have to help the stage hands in a bit.”

“I’m out of cigarettes.” He croaked on the other end of the line, making you sigh deeply and pinch the bridge of your nose. Here you thought being an assistant was super important stuff, but this brat only ever made you run errands for his bad habits.

“I got you two packs yesterday.” You scoffed in annoyance.

“Yeah, well, should’ve gotten me three. I’m out.” He deadpanned. You knew he would get even grumpier if you left him without cigarettes, and staring at your own pack gave you an idea.

“Fine.” You replied monotonously, silencing him by hanging up, before he could reply. You smoked the last of your cigarette, then set off toward Ville. Once in the room, you observed Ville sitting in the chair by his vanity again, the lights around the mirror bathing everything in a golden hue, and he watched your reflection as you approached and tossed your own pack of cigarettes in front of him.

“You know I’m running around, chasing five grown men all fucking day, right?” You scoffed, laughing humorlessly as Ville grabbed the carton in front of him and inspected it.

“I don’t smoke Newports.” He complained, spinning around in his chair, seeming entirely oblivious to your irritation—or rather, he didn’t give a single shit.

“Yeah, those were mine.” You tutted at him, crossing your arms and speaking sarcastically. “Any other requests, my prince?”

But you didn’t give him time to react, you were already on your way to the door, only for him to grab you by the arm and tug you against him. He clearly didn’t enjoy being ignored.

“Why’re you always running off, huh?” He grumbled, his sudden anger sending a threatened shiver down your spine. Though you knew he would never hit you, it felt like he was about to.

“You’re not my only concern, Ville.” You grumbled back at him, and he let go relatively easily when you gave him a gentle shove.

“Are you gonna run off to Linde again, then?”

“No, I told you I was—“ Then it clicked, the little fucker was jealous. “Are you seriously jealous of Linde? Is that what this is?”

“Are you fucking him?” He continued, not even taking the time to deny your claim.

“Jesus! No! I was with him for like twenty minutes tonight because his hair got all fucked up.” Your hand ached. You’d never wanted to hit Ville this bad. “For fucks sake, I’m trailing five men all day every day. I’m not a daycare, I’m your assistant.”

“Yes, you are. So you’re going to do what I say, that’s what you’re here for.”

You stared at him blankly, dumbfounded. How dare he treat you like some disposable toy, like some mindless maid? Irritation flushed over your features, then anger. The look in your eyes seemed to scare Ville just enough for him to snap out of it at least a little.

“I don’t have time for this shit tonight, Valo.” You spat at him, disapprovingly shaking your head. “You’re an asshole, and a drunk. Get your shit together.” Then you sped out, hearing some last garbled insult or excuse from him—you couldn’t even tell.

Luckily, you were able to keep it together relatively well in the next two and a half hours. You helped break down the stage, clean up a little, and carry all the musical equipment to their respective bus. After the whole ordeal, you shared a few beers with the roadies, pleasantly surprised by the fact that Ville hadn’t come after you.

Back at the bus that you shared with the band, you took your time getting into your pajamas, as the men were all asleep in their bunks.

One AM, finally some time to yourself to grab a book or a magazine and relax on the couch—until the brat himself entered the bus.

You stared at his slim figure, smelling the everlasting aura of cigarettes and sweat that followed him inside the room. He was attractive, yes, very attractive, but the interior didn’t match the exterior.

“Why’re you not asleep in your bunk?” You croaked in annoyance while grabbing a random bag of tea from the cabinet above the small kitchenette you were standing at, dropping it into your mug of hot water.

Ville looked different now. Insecure. Fragile.

“I was taking a walk.” He shrugged, his voice a little hoarse and deep as he attempted to keep it down. Then he approached, almost sheepishly so, looking like a kicked puppy as he handed you back your cigarettes. Upon opening, you noticed he’d only taken one. He felt bad.

“Well…” You pursed your lips while looking at the cigarettes, leaning back against the counter. Part of you was still mad at him, another part thrilled at the sight of him so meek and vulnerable. “You’re kind of interrupting. I was about to sit and have me time.”

Right when you were about to grab your mug and take off toward the couch, Ville stopped you. One large hand on your hip, gripping it just slightly too tight as he pressed you back against the counter. It scared you for a second, though his face was still unthreatening.

“Why don’t you ever spend any time with me?” He murmured, his tone teetering on the edge of annoyance and guilt.

“You know the answer.” You couldn’t believe his audacity, still pressing you about something entirely stupid and irritating. He was just drunk again, you thought, but he was far too steady on his feet, and his words weren’t even that slurred. “And you were a fucking asshole to me tonight, so leave me alone.” Then you gave him a shove, watching him stumble back as you reached for your mug, only for him to step back over to you and pin you to the counter with not one but two harsh hands. You were going to yell at him, whether it would wake the others or not. You didn’t care.

“You better watch yourself before I—”  

Then, with the speed of light, he had his mouth on yours, his body pressed suffocatingly close. As much as you wanted to pull away and hit him for even trying this, you couldn’t, he had your mind and body cornered, wrapped around his finger. The hair on his chin and upper lip tickled you as his tongue slithered past your teeth.

The way you melted into him was like something magic, something entirely involuntary and carnal. If anything, you wanted to strangle him, not kiss him. But your arms were around his neck, gripping tight as your breasts pressed against his chest.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered, pulling away and looking at you with the most puppyish gaze you’d ever seen. For a moment you forgot how mean he could be, entirely entranced by his lips and his harsh grip on your body. “I don’t like seeing you mad.”

You bit your lip, tasting his spit in your mouth. “Ville—” You sighed, torn by the pleasure and the taboo of it. This wasn’t supposed to happen, as much as you enjoyed it. “Management’s going to fire me if they find out… we can’t be doing this.”

“Nobody needs to know.” He sighed, pressing a few wet kisses to your jaw while trailing his hands up your sides, your shirt bunching in his palm.

Right when you were about to deny him again, he sank to his knees. You couldn’t just pass this up—a man on his knees, pulling down your pajama pants with the hungriest gaze you’d ever seen. He looked like he could swallow you whole.

“You’re an idiot...” You murmured, letting your hand slide into his greasy, long curls, while he rid you of your panties. He kissed your hipbone first, slowly moving down and slinging one of your legs over his shoulder.

“Keep quiet.” He warned, finally descending on your eager cunt, making your head spin once his skilled tongue met your clit. Those big, green eyes stared up at you as he cupped your box with his mouth, enveloping you in warmth and spit. Your fingers lay splayed out on his hair, gently scratching and petting as if he were a dog, to which Ville replied with a soft hum and a smile. You’d never seen him this tranquil and sweet before.

“You’re pretty with your mouth shut.” You whispered, smirking deviously when he looked up at you with mild surprise—though mostly he was just confused as to why your degradation seemed to turn him on more. His cock stirred as he grasped eagerly at your thighs, his bitten nails leaving little crescent-moon imprints in your skin.

Only when he sped up did you realize how long it had been since you’d had sex, or even masturbated for that matter. The bus was always hot and crowded, and you were always busy—besides, you’d left your trusty vibrator at home. Not that you would’ve been able to use it in your bunk without waking up the band.

The band. They were right there, asleep behind curtains that could easily reveal you, especially in the middle of the bus, with Ville’s nose between your legs. Anxiety stirred in your chest, but pleasure overshadowed it. You weren’t going to stop now.

And, oh, the pleasure. Within a minute or two, you were already drenched in sweat, panting, and trying to keep your tired legs from shaking too much. He looked so pretty there, on the floor, on his knees. It was a nice change from having to look up at him.

He squeezed your thigh when you accidentally let a moan slip, continuing for a bit until you did it again, after which he pulled himself away from your cunt.

“Do you want to get caught?” He grumbled, inches away from your skin. For a moment, you thought he’d continue again, only for him to rise and tower over you once more.

“I wasn’t done,” You protested quietly in disbelief, only for Ville to cave and reach down, gently rubbing your spit-slick clit. He smiled once you relaxed again, melting into his touch, staring up at him with a gaze that could almost equate to love—if you didn’t absolutely hate him. Ville laughed softly at your pleasured expression, leaning down to kiss and nip at your neck, still keeping you pinned against the kitchen counter. Gently, he introduced two fingers to your pussy, groaning as you took them.

“You’re so warm…” He sighed, his free hand resting high on your ribs, touching the side of your breast. All you could do was stand there and silently writhe contentedly, breathing in his scent. Then he pulled away from your neck, chewing on his lip as he watched you enjoy his hands, smiling at your pleasure. “I want you, sweetheart. Do you want me too? Do you want my cock?” He spoke solemnly, his whisper breaking into a soft, deep grumble. You almost wanted to say no, to prevent something corporate from turning into more, but you couldn’t.

Drunk on his love, on his fingers and his mouth, you nodded, reaching up to tuck some hair behind his ear and tug him in for another kiss. All you could taste and smell was yourself as he removed his fingers from you, eagerly undoing his jeans and freeing his now throbbing erection. Perversely, he stroked himself with the same hand he’d just pleasured you with, spreading your essence along his shaft.

You gasped softly as he suddenly grabbed the fold of your knee, pulling your right leg up and open, and allowing his cock to breach your entrance. The two of you shuddered in unison, your faces scrunching up in an attempt to keep quiet.

He held you there, one hand gripping your leg, and the other gripping the counter, his hips driving into you with repressed lust and frustration. If only you knew how long he’d been wanting to fuck you, to have you for himself all fucking night and day without you scurrying off to his friends.

“You know you’ve been mine all along, admit it.” He growled, eyes fixed on your expression as you stared up at him, still accommodating to the stretch of his thick cock inside you. “I see the way you look at me.”

“Mff… shut up before I start remembering why I don’t like you.” You complained, holding on tight to one of his shoulders as the two of you sweat and strained already. Why on earth would he want to fuck you standing upright when the couch was a good four steps away?

“You’re very cockhungry for someone who “doesn’t like me”.” Ville huffed in surprise when you squeezed him, his hips involuntarily bucking and thudding your butt against the cabinet behind you. The two of you cringed for a second, and even Ville looked over his shoulder to check whether or not someone had stirred from their sleep—though not stalling his thrusts for even a second. Luckily nobody had woken up, and with a relieved sigh he turned his full attention to you again. Your glutes burned from the strain and the awkward position, but you didn’t want him to stop or let go.

“Fuck…” You whispered, tipping your head back in bliss and allowing your eyes to shut. Ville knew exactly where to prod, and he did it over and over. The smell of sex was unmistakable now, filling the bus, but you just couldn’t find it in your heart to care.

“Shhh,” He shushed when you accidentally let a whine slip, punishing you with a few rough thrusts—which of course didn’t help the situation and earned a quick hand over the mouth from him. You tipped your head back down toward him, your eyes focused on his while he continued pounding into you, fucking you into sweet oblivion like you’d always wanted him to. “Almost there, darling, almost…” he murmured, focused on chasing his high, his thrusts speeding up more and more, though falling out of rhythm frequently. “That’s it, come with me. Can you?”

You nodded, focusing on the coil wound tight in your stomach, savoring the tingly, warm feeling that enveloped your loins as your heart pounded angrily in your chest. It was all too much—the smell, the taste, Ville’s nearly silent sighs and huffs that you wished so desperately to be full-volume moans.

Then he shut his eyes, his hips stuttering, mouth falling open as he panted and rutted like a dog in heat. Sweat shone on his neck and forehead, his hair stuck to it. The anticipation was killing you, your eyes trained on his pretty face, inspecting every twitching muscle to gauge when his orgasm would come.

Then finally, he let out a noise akin to a groan, or even a choked sob, as he leant forward to bury his face in your neck. You could feel him pumping you full of his seed, and finally you let yourself go as well, shuddering and cramping in his arms, grabbing him by the back of the neck just to scratch up his pale skin. Your orgasm racked through you like a flash followed by a clap of thunder, swallowing Ville whole and taking everything he had to give.

Then finally, after what was possibly the longest orgasm of your life, the two of you finally stalled. The bus had grown hot and humid, reeking of cum and sex. Ville took his hand off of your mouth and let go of your leg, only to have to catch you when your legs gave out.

“Woah, shit,” He whispered, failing to suppress a giggle while hoisting you up and taking you to the couch. “You… you can’t stand up?”

“Don’t let it get to your head.” You murmured, watching him disappear into the little bathroom and return with a wet towel. He kneeled once more while cleaning his own spend off your cunt and thighs, red lines of beading blood visible on his neck, just above his collar. You couldn’t deny feeling somewhat proud of them, like you owned him. “I got you good.” You quipped, now met with a puppyish gaze.

“What?” He hummed in response, crossing the room to hand you your discarded clothes.

“Your neck.” You took the items gratefully, putting them back on. “You’re bleeding.”

“Oh.” Ville swiped the back of his neck, holding out his slightly bloodied fingers with a somewhat fond expression. “Payback, I suppose?”

“Something like that.”

“Hmm… well, get your ass in bed. I need you to get me my cigarettes tomorrow.”

[dontcrushmyheart]

I literally just posted a thing and I'm back again LMAO. My loyal minions immediately updated me (I'm literally 25 years late on the tea but you know...) on the DSABH lore (?).

Now, I've been dabbling in some more Tears On Tape and was wondering who this album is about. I always assumed it was about Jonna like Venus Doom was but I can't really find any concrete answers on this. Hlep mi plz...

[dontcrushmyheart]

So we've all seen this new Ville picture, right?? How are we all feeling? Personally I'm absolutely vibrating. He aged like fine fucking wine.

[dontcrushmyheart]

I’ve been wondering what on earth happened for Ville to write Deep Shadows. That man was DOWN BADDDD and he done fucked up.

[dontcrushmyheart]

Begging the writers of this fandom to please make Ville the poutiest, clingiest, neediest, whiniest, horniest man. Borderline humping LEGS and pouting when you like... refuse to spit in his mouth in public or something. DO YOU GET ME. Thank you.

He so ouppy......

[sun-bl3ached]

The Kiss of Dawn, music video 🖤

[dontcrushmyheart]

This is literally the sexiest Ville has ever looked. I want this entire video engraved frame by frame on my headstone when I die.

[dontcrushmyheart]

Hii! I absolutely love your fics and I have a request for u! 🥹💕

I was wondering if u could write a fic about Ville as a vampire. Nobody knows about his secret, not even his band mates. When he meets the reader he is like drawn to her like a drug. And it is extra hard for him to resist her warm body.

I was thinking maybe late 1990s Ville, when he had longer hair or dsabh era? I do not mind smut (at all)!! Fem reader ☺️

Love is a man, and he bites.

Vamp!Ville x reader smut

I cant even begin to explain this absolute COLOSSUS. This took me way too long, and it's egregiously long. But then also, it feels entirely fucking criminal to write a Vampire thing and not have it be the most drawn out, dramatic piece. There's also some POV switches here and there because,,, you know, why not. So here you go. This is VERY long winded and slow. Lots of tension and Vampy Valo struggling with his nature. What would a vampire be if not a tortured soul, eh?

Tags: Vampirism, rough sex, blood drinking, I think I mentioned death a lot, fluff, kissing, I also think this is too detailed, some sillies. Oh and the reader is in a band. Word count: 5.2K

Ville’s day was already horrible from the start. Of course, as usual, he managed to plan band practice at night. It had only been a couple of months since he’d been turned by another vampire, supposedly, he’d been near-death, but Ville’s memory of the day it happened was foggy. He barely even remembered who did it.

And the hunger, oh, the hunger. He assumed it would only be a little while before it went away, before he surpassed the “newborn” stage. It was all in the novels, right? Nobody would ever even think of being turned into a real-life vampire, but here he was, and his bookshelf was an entire encyclopedia. All those old stories had some truth to them, though he had to pick and choose certain survival aspects from different novels.

The garlic thing, after very carefully testing it, was entirely fake. Reflections too, he had one, and it was… horrifying? No, maybe not. Yes, he seemed to have escaped death with permanent eye-bags, but they were there anyway. It wasn’t like he ever cared to sleep properly before, and neither did he now. Blackout curtains did the job if ever he did decide to stay up during the day.

One of the downsides of vampirism, however, was his irises. Where there once was a bright shade of emerald green, there now was a deep shade of orange-y red. Something highly unusual he covered up with green contacts. They weren’t perfect, but his bandmates were always too drunk to see the difference anyway.

And then the fangs. Fuck if he didn’t love them, of course he did. Luckily, they weren’t very big, but they were prominent. He’d somehow even convinced his friends they were prosthetics he’d gotten in a drunk frenzy. Of course his lie worked. He’d always been too weird and obsessed with creepy creatures to not get crazy body modifications. The others barely even seemed to care.

But the worst thing of all, his least favorite immortal quirk—the inability to drink alcohol. He’d been involuntarily sober for way too long, but the beer tasted like dirt, and it did nothing. After painfully downing a few bottles purely for the drunkenness, he simply retched it back up. A vampire’s stomach is made for blood and blood only. He found out the hard way.

His invulnerability largely made up for the absence of drunken nights out, though. Maybe he was shyer and more awkward, but he was free to dick around and pick fights with whomever. It wasn’t like they would be able to win against a steel-armed immortal, magical being, anyway, and drinking blood from people who had wronged him was much more satisfying anyway.

“So,” Mige inspected Ville as he finally entered the little rehearsal space. The band had a show in a little over two weeks, finally playing their songs live in a proper venue in Helsinki. The rehearsal room was a rented space in a big, cement-walled building. It almost seemed more like a prison at times, with the padded walls in the rooms. This room wasn’t the only one, however. There were exactly fourteen more, all identical and used by other local bands or private music teachers. “You seen that new band across the hall? I wonder what they play.”

“I… haven’t seen them?” Ville looked over his shoulder through the still-open door, his eyes fixed on the one right across the hallway. One of two other bands crazy enough to play this late at night. With his preternatural ears, he heard right through that thick door and the concrete walls, listening to a cacophony of doomy, heavy riffs, layered with high-pitched female vocals. Just up his alley.

“I’ve seen their drummer, dude, she’s hot shit.” Linde quipped when Ville finally shut the door, plugging his guitar and pedals into the amp. “You think, maybe, they would wanna team up? Be our opener, or something.”

“We can’t pay them.” Mige, ever the rational one, quipped while fiddling with his bass strings. Ville couldn’t help but notice the smell of alcohol amongst his red blood cells, and the lingering cigarette breath that was clear as day even halfway across the room. “We can barely pay this fuckin’ dungeon to play in. We need that ticket revenue to keep this going.”

The distant electric buzz rang in Ville’s ear as he collected his mic and cables, along with a tattered notebook covered in coffee stains and crushed cigarette ashes. He always tried his best to make the lyrics inside look at least half decent, but all the extra notes and scribbles made it look like a lunatic had written them instead.

“Okay, but,” Linde stood by, his arms resting on the expensive Gibson he recently purchased. “We can ask if they want to play for free… or just like, a tiny cut of our earnings?”

Here the bickering began, obviously. It was late, and the only voluntarily sober person there was Gas.

Mige scoffed humorously at Linde’s proposal, lifting one eyebrow as he looked at the boy. Ville stood by, trying to drown out the noise of the band across the hall, and the sudden waft of fresh, young blood.

“You need to stop thinking with your dick, man. If you want you can just walk over there and—”

Knock knock.

The smell of blood grew suddenly intense, seeping under the keyhole and the gap under the door. Ville’s pupils suddenly dilated and his stomach cramped, begging for a bite of whoever smelt so amazing. Like cocaine on a night out.

“I’ll get it.” Linde quickly replied, putting down his shiny guitar and striding over to the door. Mige and Gas couldn’t hold in their little giggles at the sight of their friend so giddy to meet someone. He probably hoped it was that drummer.

Another great gust of deliciously sweet, tangy, and metallic blood wafted into the room. Like a thick, invisible mist spilling in and coating the air and Ville’s sinuses, as well as his taste buds. He’d never smelt something so intense, so utterly addictive.

“Hi, sorry, can I ask for a quick favor?” You quipped politely, entirely unaware of the predatory eyes on your neck. Ville almost couldn’t will himself to look away, but he had to when he felt the sudden, intense urge to kill.

Linde, completely starstruck at the mere sight of an attractive woman, stuttered out a meek response that was laced with forced nonchalance. “Uh, yeah, sure.” Your tired eyes scanned the room, noticing four men with all entirely different aesthetics. Ville caught your eye the most, his gaze intense and somewhat unsettling once you finally caught it.

Alas, both of you were able to pry your eyes off of each other, and you resumed your question. “My microphone cable is busted, I was wondering if you had any spares or something.”

“You’re the vocalist?” Ville began, his deep, baritone voice startling you a little while he moved toward the other end of the room, digging around in a plastic crate of cables and knickknacks while his curly hair fell in front of his pale, boyish face.

“Oh, yeah.” You replied sheepishly, taking a careful step inside. The room smelt like man sweat, cigarettes, and beer. Just the way you liked. “I’m not that amazing, but, you know. I could be worse.”

The other three men snickered along at your self-deprecating joke, watching you like hawks as Ville brought you a new cable. A sharp jolt of hunger shot through his spine when he finally handed you the thing, your scent punching him in the face when you stuck out your hand and took the cable. For a second, he froze completely. Even the others noticed it, as well as you.

But you smelled divine, unlike anything he’d ever smelled before. His hand twitched at the thought of sinking his teeth deep into your neck, or even your pretty wrists if you let him.

But fuck, now he had been staring, maniacally so. With a cough, he snapped the room’s tension in half, watching with eager eyes as you thanked the group and set back off to your studio.

“Dude,” Mige snapped his fingers at Ville, who still stood in the exact same spot, while shutting the door. “You okay? I can’t tell if you just saw a ghost, or the love of your life.”

Ville’s eyes carefully drifted toward his friend’s figure, his gaze slowly softening into something that passed as human. He had to stop his own feet from instinctively walking out again. But he would get his snack, or rather his meal, and he would get it soon.

“Sorry, I just haven’t slept in like… two days.” He shrugged nonchalantly, making his way over to his microphone stand. “Now let’s get some practice in before the sun comes up again.”

---

After a good couple of hours, you were finally done with band practice. Today, you’d finally perfected two new songs for your new album… a project that seemed far away for now. There was no telling when or how you’d even collect the money to rent a proper studio and get someone to mix your tracks. None of the three other women in your band knew how to do crazy technical stuff.

”I’m gonna go have a smoke, ‘kay? After that we can start packing up.” You declared, grabbing your coat and a pack of cigarettes that probably wasn’t even yours. Your bandmates Lina, Natasha, and Ingrid agreed, all three tuckered out from playing and brainstorming all night. Then you left the room, pulling on your long, fleece-lined jacket and a much-needed cigarette. Once you were outside the front door, the moon greeted you, as well as a familiar face.

“Oh, hi.” You smiled, now eye-to-eye with the man who had lent you his microphone cable earlier. He stood beneath a pale-yellow outdoor lamp, a plume of cigarette smoke leaving his mouth when he opened it to greet you.

“Hey, any luck with that cable?” He murmured, his voice a little hoarse and somewhat shy, yet with an edge of giddy excitement. Of course he knew you’d had ‘luck’ with the cable, he’d heard every note sung like you had been speaking right into his ear.

Though, as poised as he looked, all he was thinking about was your pretty, juicy neck. Would it gush if he bit into it? Would you taste as sweet as you smelled, and looked? It was taking Ville nearly all of his preternatural strength to keep himself from draining you dry. He may have never killed anyone, but you were like death’s personal temptress.

“Yeah, thank you again.” You smiled shyly, not noticing his lingering gaze on your jugular, too busy looking at the tattoo that peeked out from under his sleeve as he tucked some hair behind his ear. “I’m going to get a new one tomorrow, so you’ll get this one back soon.”

“You can keep it.” He smiled, taking another drag off of his cigarette, hoping the tobacco odor would mask your scent. “Me and my band were also wondering if uh… you might be interested to be our opening. We have a gig soon.”

Ville could see the minimal amount that your pupils widened, and hear the sound of your heart pump just a tiny bit faster at his proposal.

“You’re asking me to—“ nervously, you laughed, nodding softly as you thought about the offer. “I mean, yeah, I think my bandmates are probably interested. We’ve just never played a show before.”

“You sounded great.” Ville shrugged, smiling sweetly. You began to wonder how he heard you through those thick, soundproof walls. “How about you call me, and we can get some stuff started, yeah?”

“Okay, yes, thank you.” You tried to hide your excitement, failing miserably with the little laughs you were letting out. Sheepishly you held out your hand, his ice-cold one shaking it as you introduced yourself by name.

“I’m Ville.” He smiled, though in the back of his head he knew not to bare his teeth too much. You were making his face ache slightly from how bad he had to stifle his giddy grin.

“I don’t have a pen, but here,” Out of your pocket came a black eyeliner pencil, which you handed to Ville for him to write his number on your hand with.

This was no normal crush, this wasn’t even love or romance, this was something entirely new and exclusive to his vampirism. No mortal emotion would ever come close to what he felt, the hunger that made his mouth water and his stomach rumble at the mere sight of you. He wanted to have you, devour you, fuck it, he wanted to be under your skin all goddamn day and night.

“Are you okay?” You smiled innocently, cowering slightly under the silence that suddenly befell the two of you. Ville looked like he’d seen a ghost and the woman of his dreams all at once. You couldn’t entirely decipher him.

It was making you nervous, painfully nervous to be around him in this state. Your subconscious told you to leave, that there was danger near, but there wasn’t… right? This ancient instinct was just riling you up once again.

“I have to… drive my friends home, before they get grumpy.” You awkwardly pointed at the door, stomping out your cigarette as Ville held it open. Then you said your goodnights and went on. Ville was no longer outside by the time you and your bandmates were on your way to the van, and of course they berated you with questions as soon as you broke the news to them.

---

Two days later, after contemplating your plan for hours on end, you finally mustered up the courage to dial Ville’s number. You stood awkwardly with a fast-beating heart by the phone, anxiously twirling the nicotine-stained white cord around your finger.

“Who’s this?” A very groggy, deep voice suddenly called out on the other side of the line. Looking at the clock, you noticed it was seven pm. A weird time for someone to sound like they’d just woken up.

“Hi, It’s me, from the rehearsal place.”

“Oh,” A quick cough rang through the speaker. “Hi, sorry… fuck, I’m really sleepy.”

“Takin’ a nap?” You giggled to yourself, leaning against the wall as you listened to his heavy breathing. “Anyways, I was wondering if you want to come over and you know… discuss everything.”

Ville shot up out of his bed, cowering at the tiny sliver of evening light that shone through an opening in his curtains. He’d let the sun burn him to see what would happen once, that hurt like hell. Even worse than a third-degree burn. “Sure, if you can give me an hour… maybe an hour and a half. What’s your address?”

Without hesitation, you shared your address, nervous to see him again, but also giddy to have him to yourself. No, okay, you had to calm yourself now, you thought. You barely knew the guy, and he was just coming over to discuss show logistics. He probably had a girlfriend anyway. There was no way a man as ethereally attractive as him was single.

After that, you waited patiently, nervously. He eventually showed up around nine, and you were at your door in a flash once you heard the bell. Ville, much like you, had to contain himself, only your motives were vastly different. You were nervous and tinged with sweat because you found him irresistibly attractive. Meanwhile, Ville could only focus on the fact that he hadn’t fed, and that the scent of your blood was already driving him nuts.

His eyes focused hard on you as you spun around, muttering something entirely Important as the ever-present sound of your pumping blood and beating heart drowned out your voice. It was the only thing he could hear for a good few minutes, until he finally tore himself away and hung up his jacket with barely-there restraint.

“Did you want something to drink?” You enquired politely as he found his way into the living room, his curious eyes dashing around and inspecting all of your decorations. Anything to keep his mind off of your beautiful, fleshy, warm body.

The vampiric romance-y feeling was there again, and he writhed. It was as if Aphrodite had grabbed his poor, dead heart, and kept it in an amazingly painful stranglehold. He wanted you, all of you, every inch of your skin and meat, every single drop of blood and saliva, he wanted to taste it all.

“I—” Suddenly he twirled around, his docs squeaking on the old, uneven hardwood floor. “No, thank you.”

“Wine?” You pressed him, knowing you’d be far too nervous without some liquid courage in your system. Besides, there was an unopened bottle of red wine sitting in your fridge, waiting to be uncorked.

“I stopped… uhm, drinking.” Ville’s voice barely held any conviction, but you were too nervous to even notice it. Of course, you also wouldn’t want to tempt a non-drinker into something they were against, so hesitantly you led him to the couch. The bottle would have to wait.

“You stopped? Can I ask why?”

“My impulse control has never been great.” True, yes, minus the fact that his sobriety had been entirely unwilling. Yet, somehow he hadn’t killed you yet, even as you took place next to him on your black leather sofa and tempted him once again with your mortal warmth. “I got too fucked up too many times, you know? Sick all the time.”

“Hmm,” You pursed your lips, taking in a deep breath of air just to properly smell his divine scent again.

“Anyway,” He waved his hand around, trying to waft your scent to the other side of the room whilst maintaining a seemingly carefree attitude. “Before I dump all my trauma, we should discuss the show.”

So, discuss you did. It was all a little slow and awkward at first, given this was only your second meeting ever. The air seemed to constantly thicken more and more with every word tumbling from Ville’s plush, pink lips. You would be happy listening to him even if he recited Shakespeare or even just the alphabet. Anything to hear him talk. Slowly, your confidence built up, even without wine. He was simply too entrancing and beautiful for you to pass up on a little flirting. Usually you wouldn’t have let yourself be tempted, but he was a magnet.

He reciprocated happily, and soon your talk about logistics and ticket revenue turned into flirty banter. Your eyes were on his lips, his were on your neck, blatantly, though through your haze of violent attraction you didn’t even notice it. You were the perfect victim, like an innocent bunny, entirely naïve to the dangers of the world, entirely willing to become Ville’s dinner. Hell, you’d even like it, wouldn’t you?

Yes, you would. He told himself, the sound of your beating heart drowning out all your giggles and flirty remarks. The topic of discussion had been lost on him for a good while now. Then he glanced at your lips, down to your neck, and back up to your eyes. His pupils were large with anticipation and hunger, need for the hunt. All of the remaining humanity had seemed to drain from his body in that instant, until you suddenly kissed him.

He let out a soft, surprised groan when your lips met his. Yours were warm and soft. He could smell the blood in them, his were deathly cold yet somehow perfectly plump and soft even beyond the grave. With a soft sigh, his hand courageously found your waist, tugging you effortlessly up onto his lap as your tongue slipped past his lips. You were so sweet, your spit flowing into his mouth, invigorating him. No, it wasn’t blood, but it was you.

“Where’s…” Ville panted, his large hands sliding up and down your waist and ribs with surprising gentleness for a man so large, and for a man so pent up with the need to drain your veins. Even he was surprised by his own restraint. “Where’s your bedroom?”

“Down the hall to the left,” You pointed over your shoulder and attempted to stand up, only for Ville’s large hands to cage you against his chest and lift you while he rose from his seat. You giggled coquettishly while holding on to his broad, bony shoulders, allowing him to carry you to your bedroom and lay you down on the soft mattress.

His lips were on yours again, and he trembled with restraint while hovering over you, reveling at the feel of your warm, lively hands slipping around his slender waist, gently caressing the ribs that jutted out beneath his perfectly smooth skin.

The aromatics of your blood were now mixing with arousal, a smell entirely new to him since his turning. He hadn’t been with anyone after growing his fangs, and now he knew exactly what an animal would smell when in rut. Ville moaned at the combined scent of oxygenated blood, arousal, and sweat on you. He trembled more as your hands navigated to his fly, undoing it with practiced ease as his tongue remained inside your mouth. However, he stopped you right when your hand trailed just a little too far south. He hadn’t fed. There was no blood in his body to engorge anything.

Then you broke away, looking at him with a surprisingly adorable, slightly confused expression. He laughed awkwardly, then sat up on his heels while scouring the utter depths of his nutrient-depraved brain for an excuse.

With your eyes trained on his crotch, you noticed what was wrong. He wasn’t hard in the slightest. “Is… is something wrong? We can stop if you want to.” You offered sheepishly, sitting up as well.

“No, it’s… uhm…” His eyes bore blankly into the wall behind you. If he could, he would have been blushing, but he simply did not have enough blood in his system for it. Then you leant closer, cupping his soft, clean-shaven jaw, and peppering little kisses down the opposite side.

“Lay down, I’ll help you.” You whispered into his ears, his curls tickling your warm face. But he could no longer hear you speak, all that was audible was the ever-steady thrum of your heart and the blood racing through your arteries. Your neck was right there, and before he could even begin to contemplate his actions, his teeth sunk into your supple flesh.

You yelped aimlessly, squirming against his iron hold, arms enclosing around you as he sank his fangs deeper. The pain was a sharp stab in your neck, followed by a dull throb as he began to drain your body, moaning perversely at the unique taste of your blood. It, in fact, did taste as good as it smelled.

You had long since figured out his nature. For a little while longer it scared you, until the blood loss began making you all loopy and lightheaded. Like doing drugs or going to bed while drunk. Your struggling ceased, and the dull ache started to resemble something akin to pleasure, as if he was enchanting you, or spitting venom into your neck-wounds. Carefully, he took your hand, guiding it to his cock as it slowly but surely began to stiffen, engorged with your blood. Your life force.

Your love.

Finally, he managed to pull himself away from your neck, your hand still idly resting on his ever-growing erection while slowly regaining your senses. You felt slightly nauseous, dizzy, and sweaty, but you just couldn’t find it in yourself to hate him for what he’d done. On the contrary, you found it incredibly arousing to feel him heat up as your essence coursed through his veins.

He smiled, and your eyes focused on his blood-stained fangs. Any normal human being would’ve fled, but you sat there, your hand carefully palming him as the tip of his dick rose past the waistband of his boxers.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered sincerely, looking deep into your eyes to find anger, or perhaps fear, but he saw none. All he could see was love and fierce attraction, a deep satisfaction at the thought of being what kept him alive, being the person he sought care from. “You taste amazing… unlike anything, unlike any human food. Like a drug. I need you in my veins.”

If the blood drinking hadn’t done it, the desperate, romantic poetry spilling from his lips sure did. You were entirely hot for a dead guy, aching to feel exactly the thing you’d caused.

“Don’t keep me hanging. Return the favor.” You grinned, pulling your shirt off over your head with weak, yet eager hands. Ville stared at you as if convinced that you were about to stake him, only for you to undress like he hadn’t nearly just delivered you to the hands of God. But, of course, he wasn’t going to let up on the offer, unhooking your bra with haste, barely paying any attention to your nude chest as you lay back. Then your pants were off, and before you knew it, you were naked as the day you were born—right in front of a man whom you’d met only forty-eight hours before.

He undressed as well, clumsily peeling off his shirt first, discarding his boots second, and freeing himself of his pants and boxers third. You marveled at the sight of his lean, spotless, and hairless chest, admiring the ink in his pale skin, and the many veins bulging with your blood. Something about your life sustaining his was deeply romantic, and amidst the feeling of blood loss and nausea, you felt yourself swooning over what was essentially a parasite.

“Do you want this?” He rasped while allowing himself to press himself close, his cock warm and pressing against your bare cunt. You nodded eagerly in response, nearly giving yourself vertigo in the process. Then, he gently pushed himself inside, his eyes nearly rolling back into his head as your wet, warm cunt embraced him from all angles. The moans that slipped from his lips were nearly pornographic, and he twitched within you.

“Sorry, I—” He grunted again when you adjusted your hips, your pale lip between your teeth as you stared up at him blankly, physically drained and asking for more. God, you were making him hungry again. “It’s been so long.”

“I don’t care,” You whispered hoarsely, running your hands down his sides, letting them rest on his bony hips before trailing back up again, feeling his otherworldly energy emit into your palms. Now, he was warm, and he was sweating lightly, his long hair tickling your face as it hung down. The soft, gentle thrusts quickly began to evolve into something far needier and rougher, like you’d disappear if he didn’t give his all. “I’ll have to say,” you began, gulping at nothing in particular, “Vampires… that’s a first.”

He couldn’t help but laugh through his moans, though the sound remained strangled and strained as his hips roughly snapped into yours. The tip of his cock kept barely nudging your cervix, making your left thigh twitch on instinct. All you could smell was iron and sweat, along with the everlasting odor of cigarettes.

“Can’t say I’m… fuck, opposed to being your first.” He chuckled, his chiseled face scrunching up with pleasure and restraint. Neither of you were going to last long at this pace, not with him ramming himself inside the way he was. “Do you like it?”

You gasped when he lowered himself, his lips once again trailing down your neck. For a second you thought he might bite you again, only for him to tenderly kiss the red, leaking puncture wounds on your neck. The pain seemed more like pleasure now, and your arms promptly wrapped themselves around his neck, one hand tugging lightly at his hair, much to his avail. “Yes,” You moaned, the bed thumping continuously and rhythmically against the wall. He took your sudden arched back as a sign of your impending orgasm, and without faltering, he once again roughened his movements until they had you gasping and desperately crying out his name multiple times.

“Yes, yes,” He panted, his right hand grasping the back of your knee to tug it upward and give himself more room. The two of you were a beautiful, depraved tangle of sweaty, bloody limbs, and the constant thump of your human heart turned Ville on beyond repair. He was going to cum, and soon. No human experience could even come close to what he felt in that moment, immortal power flowing rapidly through his veins and setting his loins alight. “Please, please cum for me.” His groans were loud in your ear, his hair in your mouth, nails digging into your skin—but you didn’t care, you couldn’t, not when everything felt this good.  Not when you were floating and touching clouds, fucking reveling in pleasure and drowning in his perfect touch. And the pleading? Fuck.

“A-almost… almost,” You clenched around him desperately, tugging harder on his hair. His thrusts seemed to never falter, not even one bit, even as he shook. “Cum with me, please, now.”

“Baby,” He bit your shoulder once, then let out a noise akin to a growl, absolutely animalistic in its nature. “Now, now, I’m coming…!”

Beyond those words, everything seemed to fade out. Your vision went black, your back arched and your toes curled as you shouted out whatever words you could, nothing you did or said even seemed voluntary in the slightest. All you could do was writhe and moan, faintly listening to Ville’s deep grunts as he filled you with his cum, pumping and driving you into the mattress until your fragile, mortal body began to cave in on itself.

“Sorry, sweetheart, fuck…” With barely-there restraint, he removed himself from you, a pang of anxiety shooting through his chest when noticing your blank stare and pale face. He’d exhausted your body to its limits, draining it first, and then asking it for all the fighting power it had left.

You looked pallid and ruined, part of him felt horrible for even suggesting sex after drinking your blood, yet another part recognized that you weren’t bothered in the slightest. You loved it, loved being weak and under his care. His prey.

Quickly, he got up, to which you barely responded, after which he sped to your bathroom for a towel and a cup of cold water. He propped you up against two pillows by the headboard after that, letting you drink while wiping all the blood, sweat, and cum off of your body with the towel.

Your ears rang, your body tested to its very limits, yet still you remained happy as he gently cared for you. He even found some gauze, with which he patched up your neck before properly tucking you into bed.

“You’re not getting in here?” You murmured sheepishly, watching him pull his clothes back on, his cheeks tinted with a human-Esque pink hue. For a moment, he seemed guilty, then he climbed in, sitting up and allowing you to use his thighs as a pillow. He happily scratched your head as you nuzzled yourself into him.

“I’ll stay, love, but you know what I am now.” He murmured. “I don’t sleep at night.”

“Guess I should buy you a coffin if you want to stay over more often, huh?” You joked, whispering with exhaustion as you slowly drifted off to sleep.

[dontcrushmyheart]

That face at the end is the universal expression of “oh fuck I’m drunk” that you make in the bar bathroom after looking in the mirror. Bonus points if you shoot some finger guns at your reflection or do a little sexy pose (I know I do)…

[dontcrushmyheart]

Ville Valo I BEG OF YOU. Please wear crop tops & baby tees again PUH-LEASE. Seeing this man's tummy is a necessity.