Glory & Gore.
Werewolf ! Rafe x Vampire ! reader.
warning : blood sucking, blood kink, HEAVY SMUT UNDER THE CUT, p in v, power play, teeth play ( LMFAO ? idk how to word it. ), family war. lmk if i forgot anything.
Both of your families were sworn enemies, bound by a hatred older than any living soul on the island. You had been here for ages, long before the world changed, back when your kindβvampiresβruled the island in its glory days. It was a time when the night belonged to you, vampires, when power flowed through your veins as effortlessly as the centuries passed. Until the Camerons came.
WerewolvesβCamerons feral, proud, and relentlessβchallenged the natural order of things, turning the tides of power. Their arrival marked the beginning of a bitter war, one that stretched across centuries, leaving scars too deep for healing.
But that was long ago. The wars had quieted, the world had moved on, yet the weight of that ancient rivalry remained, shaping every glance, every interaction, reminding you that some things were never meant to be forgottenβeven if the war itself had become a distant memory.
You were both born into this conflict, taught that their blood was your enemy, just as yours was theirs. The Camerons controlled the real estate market, their influence extending over the land itselfβevery house, every piece of property, every deal went through them. It was their stronghold, their mark of dominance, built stone by stone over the years.
Your family, on the other hand, had secured the islandβs lifeblood: tourism. From the grand resorts to the quaint seaside cafes, the sprawling vineyards to the guided tours through ancient, haunted ruins, it was all in your hands. Your name was synonymous with the island's allure, drawing in visitors from all over, their money flowing into your coffers, feeding the empire that had once ruled uncontested.
It was a delicate balance, this division of power. Both sides kept the peace for the sake of the islandβs prosperity, but everyone knew the truthβthe truce was as fragile as a whisper. Beneath the polished veneer of business deals and territorial lines, the old hatred still burned, ready to resurface with the smallest spark.
Tonight was different. The air was thick with anticipation, charged with an energy that unsettled you more than the usual Midsummer gathering ever had. It was an annual eventβ a fragile tradition that dated back to the uneasy truce between your families. Every summer, the two clans came together to celebrate the so-called "peacetime," though everyone knew it was more for show than true reconciliation. Smiles were forced, glasses raised in toasts that carried the weight of centuries of grudges.
But this year, you couldn't shake the feeling that something was about to happen, something that would change everything. You knew he would be here. Rafe Cameron, the heir to the werewolf clan, and the one person who made your blood boil more than anyone else. He had a way of making his presence known, always in control, ruthless, handling everything that belonged to him with an almost brutal precision.
Rafe had a reputation. The kind that sent whispers through the crowd when he entered a room, the kind that told you it was safer to stay out of his way. He dealt with problems the Cameron wayβswiftly and without mercy. Anything, or anyone, that threatened his family's power was eliminated, no questions asked.
You had chosen the crimson red dress for a reason. It was bold, deliberateβan unspoken declaration that tonight was different. A statement had to be made, though you weren't entirely sure what that statement was yet. The fabric clung to your figure like a second skin, the deep color standing out against the moonlit evening, drawing attention the moment you stepped into Tannyhill.
The sprawling Cameron estate was as grand as ever, every inch of it a reminder of their dominance over the land. As you crossed the threshold, the first thing that hit you wasnβt the lavish decor or the murmurs of the mingling guestsβit was the smell. It slammed into you with an unexpected force, making your head spin and your breath hitch.
Someone was in heat.
It was unmistakable, the sharp, primal scent that clung to the air, seeping into your senses and settling deep into your bones. You werenβt sure who it was, but the effect was immediate. A dizzying warmth spread through you, unsettling and invasive. Every inch of your body seemed to react, a visceral response to the scent, sending a tremor down your spine.
This wasnβt just any night. Whatever had brought you here, whatever tension simmered beneath the surface of this fragile truce, was about to come to a head. And you had a feeling it had everything to do with himβRafe Cameron. The predator in him was unmistakable, and somewhere in the depths of this house, you knew he was waiting. Waiting for you.
You knew, without a doubt, that it was all for you. The scent hanging heavy in the air, this shameless display of power and lustβit was a message meant solely for you. Your body remembered him before your mind even had the chance to catch up, and the memory of that night came rushing back with a heat that sent a shiver down your spine.
It had been a few moons ago, but it felt as vivid as if it were happening now.
The night Rafe Cameron had taken you, relentlessly, without holding back. His body pressed hard against yours, his skin burning with raw, primal heat as he pounded into you over and over, driving you past the point of control. Your fangs had sunk deep into his flesh, tasting the iron tang of his blood, marking him just as he marked you.
He hadn't just claimed your body that night-he'd claimed every part of you, leaving you so tangled in his scent and his touch that it was days before you could return to your own house. You could still feel the way his scent had clung to your skin, overwhelming every other sense, reminding you with every breath that you had been his, even if just for that fleeting moment.
It was intoxicating, dangerous-exactly the kind of thing that shouldn't have happened between two sworn enemies.
But it had. And now, standing here in the midst of the gathering, with his scent in the air and the tension coiling around you like a noose, you knew this night was no different. He was here, and he wanted you to remember everything.
You shook your head, trying to clear the fog of memories that clung to your mind, and reached for the nearest crimson glass, almost as if it were calling out to you. The liquid was dark, rich, and you downed it quicklyβone glass, then another, letting the warmth spread through your chest. By the third, the hum of the alcohol started to dull the tension twisting in your gut, but it didnβt erase the knowing feeling coursing through you.
Then, the sound of applause rippled through the room.
Straightening up, you wove through the crowd, your heels clicking softly on the polished floors, and that familiar sense of unease settled in once more. It was like you were on autopilot, following the sound, knowing what you would find.
And there he was.
Your father stood tall in the center of the room, his face the picture of nonchalance as he shook hands with Ward Cameron, the two heads of the families locked in the familiar dance of politics. But your focus wasnβt on them. No, your heart quickened because standing right next to Ward was Rafe. You could feel him before you even saw him.
He hadnβt looked at you yet, but you knewβhe knew you were there. His eyes were scanning the crowd, but his focus was distant, almost strained. You could sense it, the tension in his posture, the way he held himself too still, trying to appear calm and composed, but failing. He was lost already, the scent of you in the room, the pull between you undeniable, even though he hadnβt even laid eyes on you yet.
You slipped through the crowd, watching him from the shadows, a smirk playing at your lips. You hadnβt come near him, hadnβt spoken a word, but you could already feel his needβthe way he was unraveling. Even without looking at him, you had him. He was losing himself, and it was because of you.
But deep down, you knew the truthβyou werenβt in a position of strength. For all your attempts at control, his scent was overwhelming, sending wave after wave of raw, intoxicating lust surging through your veins. Your breath grew uneven, your heartbeat erratic, no matter how hard you tried to focus. It was futile, especially when you felt itβthe weight of his gaze burning into your back. The intensity of it was enough to send a shiver down your spine, like a spark igniting something inside you that you couldnβt hope to extinguish.
It almost felt like a shock, jolting you from whatever fragile hold you had on yourself. Thatβs when all your carefully constructed demeanor crumbled. The confidence, the smirk, the game you thought you could playβit all vanished the moment you turned around and locked eyes with him.
Slowly, deliberately, you faced him, your crimson eyes glowing in the low light as they met his. And there he wasβRafe. His expression was dark, predatory, but it was the way he licked his lips that made your pulse stutter. The hunger in his eyes mirrored everything you were feeling, and thatβs when it hit youβyou werenβt any stronger than him. You werenβt any more in control. You were just as lost, just as consumed by the pull between you as he was.
In that moment, it was undeniable. Whatever this was between you, it had already devoured you both whole, and there was no turning back.
And lost, oh, how lost you were. Every rational thought had disappeared the moment he touched you. Now, your body was pressed against the rough bark of a tree, your cheek flushed and your breath ragged as he pounded into you from behind. His fist was tangled tightly in your hair, pulling just enough to make you gasp, while his other hand muffled your cries, stifling the sounds that would've torn through the quiet night. But it was impossible to silence the desperate whimpers that escaped you, the way your body trembled with every relentless thrust.
Rafe was merciless, moving against you with an intensity that sent shivers through your entire being. His chest was hot against your back, his breath heavy in your ear. Then, you felt it-his tongue, teasing along the edge of your ear, sending jolts of pleasure through your already overwhelmed senses.
His voice was dark, taunting, the words dripping with cruel satisfaction. β What would your poor daddy say if he saw you like this? β he whispered, his breath hot against your skin. β Getting fucked by a werewolf... reeking of him for days? β
The shame of it should've burned you, but instead, it only fueled the fire raging inside you. You couldn't answer, couldn't think-only feel. The war between your families was nothing compared to the war inside you now-one you had already lost the moment he laid his hands on you.
The moment his hand released your mouth, a loud moan ripped free, filling the night air. You could hear him laugh behind you, low and wicked, as his pace quickened. His hands gripped your ass roughly, fingers digging into your skin, leaving marks you knew would last. His breath was ragged, matching the relentless rhythm of his movements, and you could feel your own body betraying you-your fangs revealing themselves as the primal pull between you grew unbearable.
His nails scraped against your skin, each drag sending a mix of pain and pleasure coursing through you. His voice, thick with lust, whispered in your ear-praises laced with degrading words that made your head spin, your mind teetering on the edge of submission and chaos. Every filthy thing he said, every breathless taunt, only pushed you further into the abyss.
You bit down hard on your lip, tasting blood, trying to ground yourself as the sensation threatened to overwhelm you.
Everything was too much. The rough scrape of the tree bark against your flushed skin, the aching pressure of his body pressing into yours, and the intense pleasure that surged through you as his fingers found your clit, playing you like he knew exactly how to unravel you. Pain and ecstasy merged, making it impossible to separate one from the other. Your body was lost to him, lost to the sensation, drowning in the dark, twisted pleasure that consumed you both.
You couldn't help it-your body reacted on its own, tightening around him as the pressure inside you built to an unbearable peak. That's when you heard his voice, cold and commanding.
βDon't fucking do that, β he growled, his tone laced with warning, before his hand came down on your ass with a sharp slap that made you cry out, the sting of it burning through your skin.
The raw power behind his strike left you breathless, and you could only nod, trying desperately to hold on. But no matter how hard you tried, you couldn't stop the way your body clenched around him, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
It was building, the pleasure twisting tighter inside you with every relentless thrust, and finally, you felt it-the moment of no return. β Β΄m coming... β you babbled, barely able to form the words through the haze of lust and need.
β Oh yeah? β he asked, a cruel laugh slipping past his lips. He knew. He could feel it too, the way you were trembling, so close to shattering. You nodded frantically, seconds away from the release your body was begging for, every nerve alight with anticipation.
But just when you thought you'd finally fall over the edge, he stopped. Pulled back completely, leaving you empty, desperate, the sudden loss almost as painful as the pleasure had been. The shock of it hit you like a wave, your body screaming in protest as you hovered on the brink, denied the one thing you needed most.
β Rafe-what are you doing? β you protested, your voice shaky, your body still pressed helplessly against the tree, aching with unfulfilled need. You could barely stand, your legs trembling, but even then, you didn't move away. Some part of you was still hoping, still wanting.
He shrugged casually, as if what had just happened was nothing, his hand smoothing down his suit as he pulled his cock back into his trousers. That damned smirk played on his lipsβthe one that made your blood boil with anger and desire all at once. God, how you hated that smirk.
β You gotta work better than that, β he said simply, his voice calm, almost amused. The arrogance in his words left you breathless, your heart racing in frustration and disbelief. He knew exactly what he was doing to you, how close you had been, and now, he was walking away like it didn't even matter.
And then, with one last look at you, bent over against the tree with your dress still hitched up, he turned and started to run through the trees, disappearing into the shadows as he made his way back to the party. The sounds of the celebration drifted through the night, distant and surreal, as if mocking the raw, burning desire still coursing through you.
He'd left you there, unfinished, throbbing with need, and all you could do was catch your breath, knowing deep down that this was only the beginning. The night was far from over, and whatever game Rate had started, you were already too deep to pull yourself out.
let me know if you want part 2!
