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;the touch of silk (m)

In a world where vampires coexist with the living, there are many humans looking for a cheap thrill…you’re ashamed to admit you’re curious too, putting to good use a dating app you find…but Min Yoongi is nothing like you imagined a vampire to be…

pairing; min yoongi x reader genre/warnings; (slight) sugar daddy! yoongi, vampire! yoongi, smut, romance, blood mentions, but nothing too crazy words; 14,221

⇶ more; black honey—sunday mornings—small things

⤑ read over on ao3 here

The first time you meet Min Yoongi it’s in a crowded bar. He’s sitting in the darkest corner, the muted lights illuminating his pale skin. He’s beautiful, even better than the pictures you’d seen online. His skin is blemish free, glowing with a freshness a dead person shouldn’t have. For he’s a vampire. Has been for over 90 years in fact, if what he put on his profile is correct. He’s older than your grandparents but doesn’t look a day over thirty; youthful forever, on this earth for eternity. Or until someone sticks a stake in his heart or he burns in the sunlight.

You’re not nervous or afraid. You’re unsure why because everyone you know is too scared to be in walking distance of the night crawlers. Not you, you’ve been curious ever since they began coexisting with you guys. Most are just like humans you think. Of course you get your bad vamps but you also get your bad humans too. You can list infinitely more serial killers that have been human as oppose to vampire. Yoongi actually laughs at you when you tell him the exact same thing.

“What’s so funny?” You ask, face puzzled.

“You do realise half those serial killers you think were human aren’t, right?” He tells you. “Jack the ripper, Cleveland torso murderer, black dahlia—all vampires. That’s why they never got caught.”

“You’re lying,” you accuse.

“Why would I lie to you?” He chuckles. “The clue is in the crime. All committed at night.”

“But none of those victims had bite marks,” you puzzle. It didn’t make sense.

“Cute,” he smirks. “You think vampires only kill for blood.”

That’s the first reminder you’re dealing with a vampire. Of course, Yoongi is as harmless as one can get, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t hurt a person before, killed somebody once upon a time. You’re not dumb. You know how they work. It’s just some vamps get bored of the bloody and violent lifestyle quicker than others. They crave a normality to life only humans can have and some try really hard to follow the rules and make sure they’re as mortal as a vampire can get.

“Do you have a preferred blood type?” You ask.

Yoongi says he’s been drinking artificial blood ever since it came out, only choosing to feed from a willing mate for the real stuff. When he tells you that, your breath hitches because that’s what you’re here for right; a potential mate that will provide him company…and…other unorthodox activities that makes your stomach bounce around in desire. Min Yoongi is a good-looking man, even if he wasn’t a vampire, you’d bet the girls would be lining up for a go at him…and the men.

You watch him take the bottle in his hand and flip it around, the label now facing you and you see in big black text: A positive. That’s your blood type. It says so right on the dating profile you used to find him. If your mother knew her daughter was using satan worthy means to find a guy—or hell to that, find money, she’d go to her grave early. However, what she didn’t know won’t hurt her. After all, you were just having some fun.

“What does it taste like?”

Another question. At this rate he’ll think you’re interviewing him for a special piece in the city’s newspaper. He shrugs, dark fringe flopping in his face as he does so and you watch him take a large sip of the red liquid. He smacks his lips loudly, enjoying the taste as it laces his mouth and slips down his throat. For some reason, the sight makes your heart race; oddly erotic in the dimly lit bar and you know you have to control yourself. This is your first meeting, just to get to know one another. You are not supposed to be thinking about how beautiful he would look with his fangs extended and how much you would practically kill for that visual.

“Sweet,” he replies simply, a smile on his face, and you have to look away when your eyes lock, something about it too intense for you after all those thoughts. Sweet…did that mean you would taste sweet to him?

“Does the blood type really matter?”

“I mean, a casual vampire isn’t going to care about the blood type as long as the human is clean of diseases, but there are some who think they are the superior being and are owed whatever blood they choose. I have no time for those type of creatures,” he shrugs off, nose wrinkled in disgust and you’re surprised by the distaste for his own kind.

Granted, not every vampire is like he described. Some take to living life like normal humans; working beside you, dating humans, even getting married now the law had passed… But there are still some who think humans are inferior to them—whilst still taking all the privileges they can get from this world, you may add… You guess Yoongi has no time of day for those kinds of vampires, and for some reason that has you feeling some type of way.

“But you chose me because of my blood type, right? It says I’m A positive on my profile…”

For some reason you can’t shut up tonight. You should definitely feel more nervous, but instead, only a mild buzz of excitement flows through your veins. Some would say you’re reckless, but you see it as adventurous…

You watch him pause, placing his bottle down with a clank. When he smiles he looks you straight in the eye and your heart thuds against your rib cage. He’s breathtaking.

“No,” he shakes his head simply. “I chose you because I thought you were incredibly beautiful and I wanted to get to know you better. You are more than just a blood bag to me…”

And he stays true to his word.

You decide you want to see each other again and before you know it weeks have past, no blood taking in sight. He hasn’t even made a move in other ways … Not even a kiss. Of course there’s a hand on the small of your back when he leads the way and there’s definitely flirting going down. He can tell in your eyes you want him like no tomorrow but he’s a man of patience. He always seems to offhandedly mention he can wait eternity for things and you know deep down he’s teasing you. You wonder how long you have to wait…

You get along brilliantly though. He has a quick witted, dry sense of humour that you love. He can make you laugh till the sun comes up—quite literally. He also doesn’t seem to mind your fascination with him. He answers the questions you give to him with ease, but almost every time with a raised eyebrow, because well, you’re you.

“Have you ever killed someone?”

You whisper this question because you’re in a crowded art gallery. It still amazes you how businesses now open their doors at night as well as day. Although you aren’t surprised—double the business is always great. It’s while you’re viewing a pretty dreadful painting—not skill wise of course, just…content…a man covered in blood next to a dozen dead bodies or so, the question pops into your head. You’re comfortable enough to ask Yoongi, although whether he gives you an answer is another thing…

He raises that eyebrow slowly as you look up at him, expression innocent and he chuckles under his breath. “You are incredibly morbid.”

With a hand on your back he moves you along to the next painting—sunflowers, definitely more innocent and you guess he’s not going to reply. That is until you feel his mouth by the shell of your ear, breath hot as he whispers against it.

“I’m a vampire,” he tells you, as if it answers your question, and it does, for the most part.

But you’re curious, one day it could probably get you killed—in this world it could definitely get you killed…

“Of course I’ve killed people—humans, vampires,” he pauses as you hold your breath, in sudden shock at his frankness. “—never animals though, I love them too much.”

His hand’s still on your back, having dropped to the lowest point, just atop your bottom and it’s all you can feel, like it’s burning its way inside your body. His mouth is so close to your face you’ve never wanted to kiss him more, and you pray for it, even though it won’t happen in a place this full. Instead you bite down on your bottom lip and try to flush away the disappointment that fills you when Yoongi steps back and regains his position next to you, viewing the painting as if it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. You bet he’s seen so many wonders of the world… You want to ask, but you’ve already filled your quota for tonight.

It’s when you’re leaving the gallery he feels the need to tell you something, as if it’s been weighing on his mind the whole time after you asked him that very personal question.

“I haven’t killed anyone in thirty years. Not since I decided I wanted to live a normal life.”

For some reason, knowing he hasn’t killed in your lifetime eases you slightly. As if knowing he’s been a good guy for a while now would make everything better for your mother if she accidentally found out her daughter was getting paid to date the living dead…

You scoff to yourself. Nothing would make it better.

Another question you’ve been dying to ask comes out one night after you’ve watched a late night showing at the movie theatre. The Great Gatsby. A movie set in the 1920s. By your calculations, if correct, Yoongi was turned in that decade. So naturally, while engrossed in the movie you can’t take your eyes off him, wondering what he’s thinking about, his gaze intense, forehead furrowed, deep in concentration. He’s lived through all that, you think. He’s seen the real thing.

The question comes out as he drives you home.

“How did you turn into a vampire?”

His story is a simple one. Love. The simplest, yet also most complex emotion. He fell in love with a vampire and upon finding out what she was, made the decision to ask her to turn him. It’s that of modern day books and movies, but it’s real for him. Very real. He’s proof—more than ninety years on. You want to know if he regrets it, if only just a part of him…but you decide that’s a question for another day…

Despite getting to know him as well as the back of your hand, he’s still yet to make a move. You enjoy his company and he’s the perfect gentleman but you’re growing restless. Being around him lately is like being attached to a ticking time bomb. With every little thing he does; a look and a smile your way, a touch or even just a brush against your arm, you’re weak and in fear of combusting.

That’s why you take it into your own hands one night…

You’re in a restaurant when the waiter seems a little on the judging side. Vampires have been coexisting with humans for over three years by now but obviously some people just don’t like it. However, what some really despise are the humans that choose to associate themselves with the creatures. Vampire sympathisers, that’s what they call them. And that’s you, you guess, if you’re going by their logic.

It’s when the waiter is handing you your food, just after serving Yoongi his bottle of blood that he whispers—looking you directly in the eyes, hate driving through them— “Enjoy your meal, vamp fucker.”

Yoongi hears it, of course he does, he’s a vampire. The waiter’s more than stupid. And as he turns to leave you notice Yoongi slam his fist on the table, face stern as he breathes angrily through his nostrils. You’re still in shock but you think fast and reach for his hand, squeezing it gently to silently warn him. There’s no point in letting those hateful people think they’re right.

The rest of the meal goes by pretty tensely. Yoongi is silent for most of it, only speaking when you try to make conversation. When you leave, he doesn’t give a tip and it’s when you’re walking to his car, stopping beside the passenger’s door to open it for you, that he finally makes conversation. And it’s not one you like.

“Are you sure about this?” He asks, and when you knit your forehead together in confusion, he coughs, clearing his throat to begin again. “Me? Are you sure about me?”

“Or course I am—

But he’s not listening, shaking his head as he begins to talk over you. You’re not even listening too by this point because he’s talking rubbish. If he thinks one idiots’ opinion is going to make you change your mind, then he doesn’t know you at all. The weeks of getting to know one another must have been a waste then…

“I understand if you don’t want to carry on this agreement. No hard feelings…”

He’s still going on and you roll your eyes in irritation. For a vampire he’s not very head strong. He has it all wrong. What happened inside the restaurant doesn’t make you change your mind regarding him, more like another knock when it comes to the compassion of humans on this planet.

Yoongi is a gentleman. A kind, well spoken vampire, who could show them a thing or two when it comes to this world. To realise he thinks so lowly of himself that he would come to the conclusion you don’t want him anymore, just because of a rude imbecile’s comment is shocking. Yoongi is twice the man—yes man, because he’s more than a vampire— than that guy will ever be, and he needs to know it.

He’s still mumbling about god knows what when you go to kiss him. You don’t think too hard, because if you do, you know you won’t do it. His lips are soft, partially wet because they’re still parted. His breath hitches once he realises what’s happening, body freezing, but he doesn’t push you away. You peck at his mouth, once, twice, a third time, cautiously as you wait for him to kiss back and it’s as your lips press for a fourth, that he does.

He’s just as gentle, as if he doesn’t want to mess it up and you brave it, reaching out to press your palms against his shoulders, wanted to feel him a little. After a moment, he’s doing the same, reaching out to hold your neck, angling your chin so he can deepen the kiss.

His lips aren’t cold like you imagined, or hard. They’re plush and warm against yours, applying hardened pressure as he hums in approval. Both the sound and vibration do something to you, you’re unsure what, but you feel the tingling all over your body and gasp a little. The sticky sound as your mouth parts greater against his sounds in your ears and then his tongue hints across your bottom lip, seeking permission to enter.

The kiss isn’t greedy or eager. You’re just both enjoying the sensation—the sensation you’ve craved since you met him. There has been no doubt in your mind since the first time you met Min Yoongi, he’s different. There’s something about him.

He pulls away suddenly, turning his head away from you and for a moment you’re confused, until he whispers a sorry, and then it all makes sense. His fangs are out. You feel your cheeks heat up. If that’s not a for sure sign that he’s enjoying himself then you don’t know what is. It must be a bind to hide, but you don’t care anyway. Why does he need to hide from you?

Without thinking you take his face in your hands and make him look at you again. You’re in awe for a moment, eyes flicking over his face before they land on his protruding fangs. They shine in the moonlight and he looks beautiful. So beautiful in fact, you kiss him again.

He doesn’t pull away.

You kiss a lot during the next couple of weeks. But if you thought this was to mark a change in your relationship, you’re wrong. Kissing is all you do, and you’re losing your patience. How are you expected to keep your cool when you have to see him multiple times a week? You’re turning desperate, and he knows it too.

Tonight you have your arms wound tightly around his middle, hugging him to your body that’s flat against your front door, mouth attached to his. He’d walked you to the threshold after your date, not expecting and surprised when you’d flung yourself at him dramatically. He’s into the kiss—you wouldn’t continue to embarrass yourself if you knew he wasn’t—he’s hard against your pelvis. The sensation only makes you more desperate, a wanton mess, before you try to pull him back when he breaks away. His fangs are out again and he’s partially out of breath.

“Let me see them,” you beg, tugging at the collar of his black coat.

“You have a fetish, Miss,” he chuckles, but he lets you have him.

Kissing when his fangs are extended isn’t as hard as you’d thought it would be. Each time they drag across your parted mouth or each time you run your tongue along them, you’re reminded of how much he’s into this—you. And oh, are you into him too. You want him. All of him. You want to feel what it’s like to be pleasured by him, taken by him.

But for some reason he thinks each opportunity isn’t the right one.

“Are you trying to end me?” He pulls away, voice affected terribly because you’ve just shamelessly ground against his erection. “We’re in public.”

“There’s no one about,” you shrug, straightening his collar that’s been pulled all shapes. “Besides, why don’t you just come inside?”

There’s a teasing to your voice that he hears but doesn’t do you any favours. Instead, it’s him doing all the messing around when he smiles and replies, “maybe another time.”

Before you can reply he has his hand in your coat pocket, reaching for your keys. In one motion they’re in the door and he’s turning the lock. You look up at him to see a smirk on his face and you scowl, to which he chuckles loudly.

“Goodnight,” he whispers, bending to kiss your cheek. “See you next time.”

And then he’s gone.

You don’t wait till next time. You mean business when you try and seduce him tonight. It’s halloween, and you know just the thing. Yoongi has mentioned in passing that he owns a nightclub. Not your average one at that. One for vampires…and humans. A place for folk to quench their curiosity. He’s told you the name of the place so it takes no time at all to google and find the address.

Club Dead.

It’s a little out of town but nothing that a taxi can’t solve and as you get out and pay the guy you stop to look up in awe. The building’s all black, door bright red and you can hear the blaring music and crowd from out here. It’s crazy to think Yoongi owns this place. It’s even crazier to realise he’s in there right now. And you’re turning up unannounced. Nerves fill you, but you carry on and step inside.

The place is pact, it’s hard to tell whose vampire and who is human. It’s even harder to find Yoongi. Maybe he’s in his office… Now that you’re here you realise you haven’t thought this out much… The club is loud and not your scene at all. Call him! That’s a great idea, but as you reach for your phone you’re interrupted when a large hand squeezes your ass.

“Hey there, pretty little thing,” the suspects voice leers in your ear and a bolt of dread flies through your body.

You twist on instinct, knowing it’s better to be facing this creep than have him behind you and you shoot him a look. Whatever he just did does not work as a flirting technique, it’s impossible to ever think it would. The stranger is middle aged and muscular, shaved head and from what you can see of his body, filled with tattoos. He’s still leering at you and you skin crawls.

“What’s a sweet girl doing in a place like this? Curious, are we?”

You swallow slowly, unsure if you can reply, but the more you stay silent the quicker he will realise he has the upper hand, and you can’t have that. While thinking, Yoongi suddenly pops into your brain and you wish he was here right now…maybe if you shouted, he’d hear you? You take a step back quickly, bumping into someone as they walk past. “I’m here to meet somebody,” you explain quickly, voice tight.

The stranger makes a show of looking left and right before a grin appears on his face. It’s not a nice grin, it’s unnerving and ugly, and you’re beginning to wish you’d never stepped foot inside this place. What were you thinking?

“I don’t think they turned up, babe. Why don’t I show you a good time instead?”

Whatever your retort was going to be, it’s wedged in your throat when you see the guy extend his fangs. He’s a vampire, and for some reason that makes this whole thing scarier. Just knowing that he’s definitely quicker than you, stronger than you and deadlier than you, has your heart beating ninety to the dozen.

“N-no thanks,” you speak up, trying to sound firm but the stutter gives you away and he laughs in your face, taking a step closer.

You shrink back, ready to scream if you have to, but then you feel an arm wrap around your waist. You jump, turning your head, almost expecting to see another one, but before you can see the new person’s face, you smell him. It’s Yoongi, and you’ve never been more relieved to see anyone in your whole life. His face is as hard as stone as he surveys the other vampire, and you almost shudder when you see how cold his eyes look.

“Get out.”

The stranger laughs again. “Who are you to tell me to get out?”

“I own this place.” Yoongi states, voice like ice, and you watch the shock appear on the vampire’s face for a moment, before he shrugs and smirks.

“Fine, but at least let the girl come with me.”

Your heart starts pounding again, afraid, because it looks like he’s not giving up. You shrink back into Yoongi further and he tightens his grip around your waist, reassuring you silently that he won’t let anything happen to you.

“She’s not going with you,” he chuckles darkly.

“Don’t you think it’s her decision?”

“She’s mine,” Yoongi snarls and even though you can’t see, you hear… His fangs are out and the stranger’s eyes widen in shock before he scowls, realising he’s lost and he storms away. Yoongi’s eyes don’t leave his figure until he’s out the club.

You go to say something to him, mouth open but before any sound comes out, he’s pulling you by the hand, making his way through the crowd. “Come,” he orders.

You follow behind him until you arrive at a door and he leads you inside. The room is square in shape, walls white with a desk in the centre. You guess it’s his office. The door clicks shut and you automatically turn to face him with a heavy heart, knowing he’s about to berate you. You’re not even half way done turning before you’re proven right.

“What are you playing at?”

“I wanted to see you…” you tell him curtly, hands clasping in front of your lap.

“So you turn up unannounced?!” He exclaims. “This place is dangerous.”

Your narrow your eyes. “Why, because I’m a woman?”

“No.” He shakes his head tightly, “because you’re a human.”

You have no answer to that. He’s probably right. A club filled with vampires probably only means one thing and he proves it in his next statement.

“If you’re here, vamps automatically think you’re down for some fun.”

You are definitely not down for some fun—well, not with a stranger anyway… You’re here for Yoongi, and Yoongi only. There’s a moment of silence, an unspoken “I told you so,” hanging in the air before he has his hand on your hip, his head cocked to the side as he looks down at you, forehead creased in concern.

“Are you okay?”

You nod quickly. Now that Yoongi’s with you there’s no need to feel scared or worried. You know he’ll protect you, and you’ve never felt safer.

“How did you know I was in trouble?” You ask, mildly curious because you hadn’t seen him at all when you’d first stepped in the club.

“I think I’m finally tuned into your voice now,” he smiles briefly, but you’re hardly listening because you’ve just remembered something else… Something that had made your heart jump around like crazy for a moment back outside.

You must look like you’re in your own little world because you’re suddenly aware that Yoongi is looking at you slightly perplexed, wondering why you have such a massive grin on your face probably…

“What?” He wonders out loud.

“You called me yours,” you more or less glee, unashamed to tell him because, well, he’s the one who said it after all.

He keeps a straight face and you watch him swallow before he’s taking a step closer. You’re hovering against the side of his desk when his arms wrap around your waist tightly, pressing your bodies together. “Are you not?” He asks, shrugging a little, a smug attitude that has your belly fizzing a little.

Even more so when he leans into kiss you, parting your lips instantly with his. His breath is hot and tickly, a sensation you will never get used to because he’s a vampire, he’s supposed to be dead! So why does kissing him feel so real? You could lose yourself in him and just when you’re about to, he pulls away. It’s always him pulling away, never you, because you want him. You crave him.

“What are you wearing?” He questions, one eyebrow raised as he holds you at arms length, eyes racking up and down your body, like he’s only now realised. For a vampire, he’s not very observant.

“It’s halloween,” you quip, tugging at the hem of your dress self-consciously.

“It’s not very scary,” he shoots back, looking at you as if you have two heads.

You take a deep breath, bracing yourself a little before you carry on. “I wanted to dress up for you.”

It was true. You’d gone looking for the outfit yourself a couple of days ago, knowing exactly what you wanted to get. After watching that movie the other week with him, you couldn’t stop thinking about human Yoongi. In his element, in his decade. You’d wanted to be a part of that, or at least just a reminder of the past.

“Don’t I look good?” You press, feeling a tad nervous now that he hasn’t replied yet, still looking at you, but now features etched in deep thought. You tug at the hem of your flapper dress once again, feeling the dark embellishments graze against your fingers and fiddle with your hair. You hold your breath and wait, relief flooding you when he pulls you closer once more.

“You look amazing,” he beams, leaning in to kiss the tip of your nose.

Your heart floods with warmth and it’s all you can do just to busy yourself and ask another question—changing the subject almost.

“What about you? Why aren’t you dressed up?”

“I’m too old for that,” he shrugs, going in for another peck at your lips and you kiss him back, all the while still trying to keep conversation going.

“I forgot you’re nearly a hundred,” you tease.

“Nearly 130 if we’re going to be exact,” he hums against your mouth, eyes catching yours as they dance with something… The atmosphere has changed by now, your voices low and breathing quiet.

“You look good for an old man,” you manage to get in with a grin before he’s kissing you with more vigour; eager and hard.

You latch onto him, arms around his neck as he pushes you against the edge of his desk, his hands traveling down your back until his palms are lying flush against your butt. It’s a new sensation. He’s never shown such keen interest like this before and your belly twists in delight, unable to stop yourself when a moan escapes your throat.

He likes that. His own gruff moan of approval sliding from him too as he pulls away for a moment to look at you, one of hands appearing again to cup your cheek. You try to keep his gaze but for some reason it’s difficult. His eyes are dark and intense, something you haven’t quite seen before and you end up shying away from him. He smirks, leaning forward, and you think he’s going to kiss you again—well, he does, just not on the lips.

His mouth feels foreign on your neck, wet tongue running against your sensitive flesh, plush lips sucking marks that stain your skin. You’re a mess now, a slave to his touch and you become weak in his arms, needing his body to hold you up. It finally feels like this is going somewhere. Something you’ve wanted for a while now and your heart is pounding at the thought. He wants you.

You’re able to think a little clearer when he pulls away again, letting him peck at your open mouth, both hands now holding your face. The first words that come out of your mouth are I missed you, but before you can wait for some kind of reply, you’re gasping in shock, taken by surprise when he grips your hips and pushes, lying you on top the desk in one fluid motion, his own body gracing over yours. You’re sure you’re lying on various things that are strewn

on his desk, stacks of paper, maybe even a pen digging into your spine—as your head falls back you realise you’re using a laptop for a pillow—but that doesn’t matter, not when you feel his mouth on yours again.

“It’s only been a few days,” he murmurs against yours, but you don’t mind. He must have missed you too if he’s acting like this and you grin against his lips, which he returns immediately.

You’re at a loss for words when his mouth trails down your chin and somehow he’s still kissing you. Feeling his lips and hints of wet tongue at your cleavage is enough to make you stop breathing for a moment, your body weak for his touch. You’re already squirming under him, his large hands clamping down on your hips as he holds you still and the heat between your bodies is almost burning you. You want him. So bad. And with the way he’s acting it seems it’s finally about to happen. You hadn’t expected it to be at such a place, but you want him so bad, you really don’t care.

“You really do look beautiful like this,” he awes, eyes locking when you look down to see him kissing at your stomach. The sensation is frustrating, wanting to know what it would be like without your dress working as a barrier. You want to feel him against your bare skin, and you’re beyond control, especially when he’s prying apart your legs to kiss just below your knee.

“W-will they miss you out there?” You manage to get out, although your voice is shaky by now.

It’s your way of trying to gauge what’s happening right now. Is this really going to carry on? You need to know so you can brace yourself. He shakes his head and carries on kissing your body, mouth behind your knee now, the most sensitive of places that has you gasping again, body jumping a little when you feel his fangs graze your flesh. You hadn’t even noticed they were out again, that’s how used to them you were, but now that you’ve felt them, you begin to wonder…

Yoongi had never discussed biting you, apart from when you’d first met at that bar and he’d told you he only feeds of humans if they’re mates, but you can’t say you’re not curious. You’ve heard during sex it’s the most divine pleasure and as you start thinking about it, and he’s still kissing up your leg, at your thighs now, dress falling up to reveal your skin, you begin to get more and more turned on; flesh clammy and breathing shallow. He’s so close to between your legs and your imagination only runs wild. You’re wet, you can feel it sticking to your underwear, see your nipples visibly poking out against the fabric of your dress. Your hands are getting ready to grip his shoulders, to get you ready for whatever’s about to come, but then—

“Yoongiiii,” you can’t help but whine as you feel him pull away from you.

“What?” He deadpans, acting none the wiser, when he knows exactly what he’s done.

You sit up slowly, dissatisfaction filling you as you realise what you want isn’t going to happen tonight. Your left turned on and annoyed, your wet thighs from all his kisses drying in the cold air, only adding to the memory that those few minutes are now.

“Did you think I was going to take you on my office table with an audience at the other side of the door?” He asks with a cocked eyebrow.

In more stable conditions, no, but he’d got you so riled up—on purpose, you may add, that you really wouldn’t have cared if he had. Just him saying the phrase ‘take you’ is enough to add to your colossal amount of sexual frustration, but you grin and bear it, standing up to face him, tugging your dress back in place.

“I should order you a taxi to take you home, I can’t leave this place until closing time and you’re definitely not staying in this cesspit one second longer,” he tells you, straightening up his collar. He pauses to watch you for a moment, a smirk widening on his face.

“You’re cute when you’re pouting,” he notes and you quickly rush to tell him he’s wrong. You’re not pouting, nope, not at all—even though yes, yes you are, but he doesn’t need to know that. However before you can, he’s making you gasp again, twisting your body to his so your back is against his chest. He does it on purpose, maybe to ease your worry—he’s hard under his slacks, because he wants you too. And that’s enough to get you home tonight without much of a fuss.

Your breath catches when you hear his voice against your ear, his words not helping your predicament at all. “…and when you’re trembling—desperate.” He enunciates each syllable clearly, making you wonder how it’s possible a voice can do such things to you and you collapse a little, just wanting him so much.

“I can hear your heart racing, your breathing’s out of control,” he carries on. “You deserve better than a quick fuck in my grotty club. You mean too much to me…”

You freeze abruptly, that one word swirling around your mind. Fuck, fuck, fuck….fuck. You feel like you’re dangling on the end of a string, your whole body burns with a want so deep it aches…and he loves every minute of it. Of course he does, for he has eternity to tease.

“Don’t worry,” he husks, his breath hitting your ear and it sends shivers up your spine, glad his body is behind you, so you can use him for support. You need it by the time he finishes.

“The wait’ll be over soon—but remember—I’ll have you when I say.”

The wait is over two weeks later. You nearly burst from all the wanting and longing when a package arrives at your apartment one morning and you open it to find a gift and a note inside. Yoongi’s note instructs you to open the large package first, tied with a black bow. You gasp when you unfold a stunning emerald green silk dress. You wonder if you can pull off such a piece, will it drape and flow in the right places?—Do you even have shoes that match? You’re too busy fretting that you nearly forget about the smaller package left in the box and when you open that next, you forget how to breathe. Lingerie. Staring at the items you reach out with a delicate hand, running your fingertips over the black lace, excitement and apprehension washing over you. His note now carries a different meaning.

Accompany me for dinner at my home tomorrow night. I’ll call a car for you. Remember to wear your gifts.

Forever yours, Yoongi.

.

You’ve never stepped inside his home in all the weeks you’ve been getting to know one another. It’s more than beautiful when you finally do, interior antique and gothic. Only what you would’ve guessed for Yoongi. It suits his aura, and now that you’re wearing the dress he’s purchased, you feel like you fit in.

To your surprise, he has dinner laid out for you on the dining table. It looks absolutely mouthwatering, and unless he’s hiding the fact he’s a chef now, you know he’s had someone cook for you. The fact that he’s pushing out all the stops tonight has your heart racing. You can’t help but wonder what’s going to happen next.

However, just like Yoongi, he plays it off cooly. He speaks about work, asking you all the small details, how you’ve been, what’ve you been up to… He’d casual and unfazed, sipping on his carbonated blood that takes the place of your champagne. You try to stay as collected as him, but you feel as if you’re on edge. Each nerve in your body is buzzing and you can’t seem to calm yourself. Your legs rattle anxiously under the table and you have to force your food down. You even leave half your lemon cheesecake. It’s heartbreaking. But you can’t seem to concentrate, under your dress the lingerie he picked out burns into your skin. Tonight is the night. It has to be. And you can’t keep imagining what’s to come.

After dining is done and you’ve had more than enough anxiety inducing small talk, that you can’t remember properly because your brain is fried, he asks if you want to see the rest of his house. You nod, unsure of what this entails, but a part of you knows the tour will end in his bedroom, so you wonder behind him, trying to practice your deep breathing exercises.

However, as soon as you step into one room—a music room of sorts, you guess—you see a musical instrument in one corner and gasp, all nerves disappearing for a moment.

“A piano,” you sigh in wonder and he nods—proudly you may add, and that makes you realise something. “You play?”

“It was…my occupation, shall we say, before I was turned into a vampire,” he explains slowly, He pauses while he thinks for a moment, and then he adds. “Want me to play something?”

“Yes please,” you half-plead. You’ve loved the sound of a piano ever since you were a little girl and to hear one right beside you—for your ears only, is a dream come true. Especially played by Yoongi.

You keep to his side as he sits down, hands hovering over the keys before he begins playing from memory, or maybe he’s just that talented the music flows from his fingertips. You’ve never heard the melody before and you wonder if it’s one of his own. Is he even more skilled than you first thought? Your heart fills with something at the thought, pride? It’s hard to pinpoint, but warmth floods your chest and you can’t help but sway to the tune a little on the spot.

He’s still playing when he turns his head to gaze at you, a smile appearing on his face. “You want to dance,” he realises, and stops playing abruptly. “Let me stop, play some music on vinyl so I can show you how talented I am at dancing too.” He jokes with a chuckle.

Your heart fizzes at the thought. He can dance, too? And you’re about to dance with him? He sets up the record carefully and takes your hands as the warm music fills the room. As he leads you, you almost forget that a moment ago you were aflame with nerves. Now you feel relaxed and at ease, gazing up at Yoongi as he grins at you. He looks beautiful, black hair styled against his forehead, the crispest of white shirts on, complete with a black bow tie. He looks radiant and you feel the same, it glows off you.

“I wish I could have seen you back then.”

The words fall out of your mouth before you can think. It’s something you’re curious about, and seeing him like this just makes you even more inquisitive.

“You forget,” he smiles, slowing your steps down. “I never age. I looked the same then as I do now.”

“Still,” you argue, “just to see human Yoongi—to see if you’re the same.”

“Personalities don’t change no matter how many years go by.”

“So you’re saying you think you’re the same?” You ask sceptically.

“Expect for the insatiable need for blood, yes,” he jokes, halting all movement by now.

You’re still cynical. You don’t believe for one second a person would stay the same if they’ve been on the planet for over a hundred years—even more so seeing as said reason was because they were a vampire. Yoongi defies some of the things this world knows about the species, but you don’t think that doesn’t mean he hasn’t changed to adapt. Everything about him interests you and you can’t help but want to know more. You want to know everything about his life.

“Did it hurt when you got turned?”

Your question hangs in the air for a moment as he regards you. You can tell he’s not used to telling a person so much about his life, but when he opens his mouth to answer you, you’re filled with warmth, because he trusts you.

“No,” he shakes his head. “I was so in love I didn’t feel a thing.”

His reply surprises you. You know he turned for love, but imagining such a thing is incomprehensible. Not because you can’t imagine Yoongi loving someone, it’s just beyond fathomable to imagine loving someone so much that you’d want to live forever. That’s a commitment to make. One you wouldn’t take lightly. Was he that smitten that he became jaded?

“With your maker?” You ask, even though you know the answer already.

“Olivia,” he nods, “yes.”

He shifts on his feet and lets go of your hands. He’s not awkward, if anything it seems like he wants to talk about it, or at least wants to tell you. He’s just building himself up. Hearing her name makes her so much more real. You wonder what she looked like, beautiful no doubt, and you wonder—

“What happened to her?”

“She died,” he replies quickly.

“Oh,” you let out, shocked and instantly feeling like a fool. “I’m sorry, I didn’t—

“It was a long time ago,” he interrupts. “Before you were born. So I wouldn’t worry yourself with condolences.”

“W-what happened?”

He shakes his head and chuckles quietly, amused by something. “You really are curious. One day it could get you killed, do you know that?”

You’re silent in reply because he’s probably right. Your curiosity got you this far after all, and that run in at Yoongi’s club was pretty scary. Maybe you shouldn’t try to appease your wonder all the time.

“She couldn’t live without me,” he continues regardless and you frown a little. Where did he go? Why did they part ways, if they did at all?

“B-but…”

“I didn’t want her anymore. I didn’t love her,” he cuts in again and your eyes widen in shock, his honesty surprising you. How could someone who loved a person that much just fall out of love?

“I guess people fall out of love after years of bloodlust and bloodshed,” he shrugs, and things finally begin to make sense…

“I…I didn’t want to be that person anymore…a murderer—a monster…” he carries on, voice firmer, brave now. “Every time I looked at Olivia I was just reminded of all the terrible things I had done. I’m not one for blaming my actions on other people, but I knew without her I would be able to ease my conscience, or at least begin to anyway…”

“You broke her heart?” You whisper, not meaning to rub salt on the wound, but just to articulate your thoughts. That’s why she had died, because he wasn’t in love with her anymore… She couldn’t take it anymore…

Yoongi nods solemnly, sighing a little before he replies. “It turned out she still loved me as deeply and madly as she had the first day she’d met me, playing at a bar in France. In the end, she couldn’t bear life without me by her side…”

“How did you take it?”

“Would you think badly of me if I told you all I felt when she left was relief?” He asks you, regarding you seriously. “There was no more constant reminder of every horrendous thing that I had done in this world hanging over my head. I felt free. Being with her for so long sucked away all my humanity and it took me years to build it up again. Olivia had no humanity, that’s why she worked well as a vampire. I on the other hand…” he fades off, and you don’t think badly of him at all. How can you? The situation is a complex one and one you will never understand because you’d never lived it. You’re a human. It can never make perfect sense…

“I regret what happened—what I did to her in the end, but mainly I regret begging her to turn me,” he tells you truthfully and that’s one thing you can’t agree on.

“You shouldn’t regret it,” you argue, stepping towards him and cupping his cheek tenderly. “You’re an amazing, kind man.”

It’s true that you didn’t know him all those decades before. You don’t know what he’s done, or what he’s capable of—you can only imagine. However, what you do know is the here and now and the man that’s stood in front of you is breathtaking. He’s worked hard to change his life and because of that, you’re deeply proud of him.

“Man?” He questions, looking confused.

“Yes, man,” you smile. “That’s what you are to me.”

His forehead is crinkled as he thinks your words over and then he’s smiling back at you, holding your hand that’s gripping his cheek.

“You’re sweet—too sweet for a man like me,” he tells you, leaning in to place a kiss on your lips.

“I don’t think so,” you murmur, rubbing your nose against his and then you’re kissing him yourself, hard, trying to show him how you really feel with actions because words are sometimes hard to express.

You don’t stop at his mouth, pulling away to kiss at his cheeks, nose, eyelids, whatever you can reach and he laughs and lets you. The sound is different to what you’re used to, more like a giggle, innocent and full of life and now you don’t feel anxious at the thought of spending the night with him. All this time you’ve been desperate to take it to the next stage but you’d missed the point; all this time was taken to get to know each other and now you’re fully comfortable with whatever happens next. Your relationship may not be a real relationship, Yoongi may buy you things and pay you to keep him company, but that doesn’t matter. There’s a friendship there, an attraction—a connection, and it’s special. Truly special.

Yoongi pulls away for a moment, out of breath and gasping. “When I’m with you,” he awes, “when I kiss you,” and to signify his point he kisses you again, breaking away with a groan, clutching the back of your head as he holds you to him. “I feel human again.”

Your heart clatters about in your chest, the blood rushing to your face, loud in your ears, his confession catching you off guard and it’s all you can do but to kiss him again, breaking away with a grin and your own admission.

“When I’m with you I feel invincible.”

He pauses for a moment and then he’s grinning. “The perfect match then,” and you nod. It’s true, at least it feels like it is. You’re kissing again, hands running over one another’s bodies. It seems natural tonight—no rush, no urge, just a mutual understanding. A mutual want, that’s finalised when Yoongi stops to regard you, eyes dark and loving as he asks the last question.

“Do you want to see the rest of my home—my bedroom?”

.

His room is spacious and dark, a large four poster bed on the back wall. It smells like him. You also find it funny how he needs such a place when he doesn’t even sleep up here, but it’s beautiful either way. You wonder behind him, hand latched in his as he leads you to the foot of the bed and he turns to face you, placing one gentle kiss on your mouth before he’s behind you, hand at the zip of your dress. You shudder in anticipation, chest heaving with adrenaline as you try to calm your excitement, pressing your palms to your lap in a bid to stay still.

“Did I tell you how beautiful you look tonight?” He murmurs and all you can do is nod, not trusting a single word to come from your mouth. Every sense is heightened right now, you can hear him begin to drag the zip down, the noise sending goosebumps down your spine, his other hand holding the top of your arm, hot under his touch, and then his breath hits the shell of your ear and it’s all over.

“Green is your colour, but I know black will be too.”

The zip hits the small of your back, straps falling down your shoulders to reveal the back of your bra to him, the black lace snug against your skin. Your heart is drumming loudly, waiting patiently for him to push the silk down your hips and finally his hand is leaving your arm to hold the fabric. He moves slowly, letting your straps fall fully down your arms to land in front of you and then he pushes downwards, the smooth silk sliding around the curve of your hips and ass. It glides off your body. He barely touches your skin which only makes you crave him more, and before you know it you feel a puff of air as your dress falls from you, pooling at your feet. There’s a pause as you wait for him to say something and you jump a little when he leans forward and kisses your cheek.

“Turn around for me,” he husks against your ear and you belly starts doing somersaults.

It seems like it takes a lifetime to face him, goosebumps appearing across the surface of your skin even though the room is warm. You lift your gaze once you’ve made it, catching his eye before his fall to your body, soaking in the sight of your lacy lingerie. Your brain tells you, you should feel self-conscious, but that’s far from the truth. You feel the most comfortable you’ve ever felt, even while he stands before you fully dressed. It’s exciting and you gasp a little when he places the palms of his hands on your hips, skin colder than yours.

“Beautiful,” he awes, and your heart swells, waiting with bated breath for his next move, every nerve in your body vibrating.

He leans in to kiss you, once, hard on the mouth before he’s pulling away and telling you to get on the bed. Again, time seems to move slowly as you climb on top the mattress, it’s like you’re on pins, willing time to go faster so you can finally feel him.

“Can you sit against the headboard?” He asks as he watches you move and you nod, sitting up so that your back is half leaning on the silk covered pillows and half against the wood of the large carved headboard. The cold is a welcomed relief against your flush skin.

You watch him admire you for a moment, feeling a little overwhelmed, your legs unsure of what to do as you slide your feet against the bedsheet, looking for an appropriate way to place them. It seems too nerving to spread them, knowing he has a perfect view between them, so you settle on lying them flat to the bed. He smirks at something, you’re unsure what, maybe at your obvious fidgeting, and proceeds to unclip his bow tie, dropping it to the floor as he loosens a couple of his buttons with one hand—the large hand, the veins visible. Everything about this moment has your stomach dancing in anticipation.

You’re squeezing your thighs together by the time he joins you on the bed, crawling over you like an animal, still fully dressed and he uses his knees to spread your legs apart, fitting between them perfectly, the texture of his pants brushing against your bare skin. You go to open your mouth to speak but he’s on you again, kissing you hungrily, hands on either side of shoulders, gripping the pillows tightly, a growl leaving him. Your tongues mash together, messy and powerful, fighting to taste every last bit of one another. It has you moaning, finally all that pent-up tension being realised. He has you here, on his bed and it’s only going to end one way.

“You look good on my bed,” he rasps, sliding his mouth down your chin. “Maybe you should stay here forever.”

“That doesn’t seem like a bad idea,” you admit, unable to think of anything better at this moment in time, and you go to tell him that but end up gasping when his tongue runs along your collar bone, fangs grazing against the bone. Your body jerks up, unable to control itself, it craves him and you can’t stop it. You don’t what to stop it.

He’s kissing across your chest now, the swell of your breasts getting all the attention, but he still doesn’t touch you with his body; hands still gripping the pillows and body hovering away from you, a barrier that you don’t want to exist. You want his body against yours to ease the pressure, to feel him. You moan loudly when he starts sucking one of your nipples through the black lace, your heart falling back and hitting the headboard with a thud. Your hands shoot out to grip him—his hair, head, neck, whatever you can reach but he growls and grabs at them, pinning you down as he links his fingers with yours.

Kissing your chest feels pleasurable but it’s also sending you crazy, the pressure between your legs building up as you twist and turn, trying to relieve it desperately. He likes that, chuckling against your chest, fangs nipping at your breasts and that only sends you further out of control, belly plummeting as you feel the obvious wetness form inside your panties. The idea of him piecing your flesh is too much, sucking your blood, tasting the rich liquid you want to give him so badly…it’s making you whine, uncontrollable in his grip. You want that pleasure—you need that pleasure.

He pulls away with a gasp, surprising you slightly when he leans towards your face to rub his nose against yours, leaving go of one of your hands to run through your hair. His mouth is open as he pants loudly, fangs displayed for you to see perfectly. He looks divine—mouthwatering, and with your chest heaving you reach up with shaky fingers to touch his them, gliding your fingertips over the sharpest point. He shudders at the action, eyes closed and when he finally opens them again, they’re as black as the night sky, bearing into your soul, pleading almost.

“Let me taste you,” he whispers and you let out a breath. Is it that everything you want tonight will come true?

“Please,” he adds, looking hopeful, and you nod.

You’d want nothing more. Leaning up to kiss him, he smiles against your lips. It’s chaste before he pulls away and whispers in your ear, his hot breath tickling you, sending shivers of pleasure up your spine.

“It won’t hurt, I promise,” he tells you, and his caring attitude knocks you a little, heart swelling inside your chest. You’ll never get over how chivalrous he is, even when he’s begging to bite you…

“It’ll feel good,” he carries on, placing a kiss against your neck. “I’ll make you feel good.”

His voice is low and effects you immensely. You want him to make you feel good, you really do. It’s all you can think of, and then you’re pulling him back to you, kissing him slowly, smiling shyly when you pull back to divulge something.

“I want to make you feel good too.”

He chuckles at that, kissing your forehead before straightening up, running his hands down your sides, finally touching you and you sink further down the bed. “You are already—trust me,” he lets you know and you smile wider, only to shriek suddenly when a hand travels to your chest and rips your bra in one clean movement, lace snapping in half to reveal your breasts, cold air hitting your nipples.

Your speechless at his strength, something he hasn’t shown you properly before and your heart pounds in your chest, looking up at him in awe. You only ease up when he begins kissing down your stomach, large hands wrapped around your waist and you moan when he runs his tongue upwards, muscles spasming under his touch, chest heaving as you watch him intently, goosebumps spreading against the surface of your skin as he grazes his fangs against the flesh before dipping his tongue inside your navel.

“Yoongi,” you gasp, unsure of what you want to say, you just need to get words out, to express the pent-up pressure inside your body and what rattles your mind. He squeezes you harder in return and you jut your hips towards him, needing some sort of relief, your feet failing to grip the bed as they slide along the sheets.

He growls, moving further down your body until he’s kissing your thighs, head forcing your legs wider. The pressure builds. He’s so close to your core the excitement is too much for you, your skin is hot and sticky, nerves tingling as he continues to lick and nip at your legs. You feel a sharp pain for a millisecond and realise he’s pierced the first layer of flesh, just deep enough for a couple drops of blood to spill out and he lets it settle on the surface before he laps at it. He sighs in great pleasure, like his thirst has been quenched and his tongue glides across the insertion, healing it before your eyes. You’d heard that a vampire’s saliva had healing properties, but to see it with your own eyes in something else and you ogle him in amazement, heart stilling in your chest for a moment. you almost forget your practically naked and desperate on his bed right now. Until he’s speaking again, and you’re very much thrown back in at the deep end.

“You taste delightful,” he praises. “Just like I thought. I can’t wait to have more…but first,” he hums, suddenly thoughtful, hands trailing down to hover over your clothed core. “…I want to taste you in another way.”

Your heart stops jumping around again, fingers gripping the sheets in anticipation. This time he tears your panties, the ripping noise sounding around the room as he tugs the material from you, exposing your soaked centre.

“They were new,” you pout.

“You’ll have to get used to it,” he tells you, unable to tear his eyes away from the one place he wants the most. “I’ll buy you more.”

Your belly fizzes at his admission, wondering to yourself what you’re getting into. If sex with Yoongi is like this every time, you don’t think you’ll be able to handle it. He’s still dressed, the polar opposite to you, who is now naked, the only thing hanging on your body the split bra. The sight turns you on even more. Your slouched now, your head the only thing leaning against the headboard as your back uses the pillows for support.

He’s silent as he makes a move, the pads of his index and middle finger brushing against your folds, parting the sticky flesh. You gasp silently, mouth open as you concentrate on his ministrations, eyes practically rolling back into your head when he begins to run circles against your clit. You’re sensitive, the sensation making you wriggle about; pressure almost too much but not enough… You’re so wet you can hear it, it squelches against his fingertips and he smirks.

“You’ve waited patiently,” he admires, sounding proud of you. “The wait is what always makes a thing better. I praise myself on my patience, but you,” he chuckles darkly, fingers stilling, “—you tested that. You made me fight myself until I couldn’t hold off anymore.”

His words are sending you into a pit of madness, an inferno aflame in the pit of your stomach as you try to get a grip off yourself. You’re tense, unable to wind down and it’s all you can do but to bite down on your lip, breathing loudly from your nose as you watch him descend between your legs. You have just about enough time to brace yourself, to feel his breath against you before his mouth’s attached.

The pleasure is instant when you feel his tongue glide against your folds and his fingers begin to rub circles against your clit once again as he practically makes out with your core. The hints of tongue against your sensitive bundle of nerves has you squirming around the bed, sensory overload. It’s when he trails the muscle down until he reaches your hole, tracing around the flesh until he’s back to your clit again, repeating said action multiple times, you really feel yourself lose it. The graze of his fangs doesn’t help either, just adding to your desperation.

“Yoongi, please,” you beg, and you don’t even know what for.

He knows that too. Chuckling as his tongue is still attached to you, he pulls aways to speak, looking you directly in the eyes which only makes your stomach plummet, toes curling. Without him pleasuring you anymore, you’re back in square one, body burning for him, walls pulsing together in longing just to feel him. It’s frustrating and painful and you hate that he knows he has this much power over your relief.

“Begging and you don’t even now why,” he hums.

“I just want more,” you exasperate. “I want you to give me more.”

He chuckles again, the sound sending the tiny hairs on your body on end as he shuffles for a comfier angle. “What did I say earlier…always so curious…impatient, even…”

Your belly is jumping around like no tomorrow; the way he’s speaking, the way he’s acting…it’s doing things to you. Everything about him is one big tease and you almost want a chance at breaking that… You’re pulled out of your thoughts when he clamps his hands just above your hips, essentially locking you in place—at his mercy.

“First or all,” he silks, “if you want more, you need to stop moving around like I’m electrocuting you. How do you expect to enjoy it when you can’t take it properly? And second of all—” and when he pauses he looks you in the eyes, something flashing around in them—you don’t know what, but it makes your breath catch—before carrying on.

“—remember, you asked for it.”

You gasp loudly as he buries his head between your legs without a warning, tongue taking the place of his fingers. He takes no mercy, making sure your legs are as wide as they can get, feet planted on the bed. You need to hold onto something, but think better of using his hair, so you clamp onto your own thighs, digging your nails into the flesh as you squeeze, moans falling from you like no tomorrow. It’s when he begins sucking on your clit you can’t take it anymore, face buried against you and your walls clench for some other type of relief, but you are unable to move because you’re leaded down by his hands, squeezing your waist tight. You feel helpless and that only turns you on even more; you should feel frustrated, but the desperation only fuels you further. You become greedy, and you don’t care.

“What are you whimpering for?” He husks, pulling away slowly, a trail of his saliva dangling from a fang before it breaks and falls.

You hadn’t even realised you’d been whimpering, but by now you’re shameless, so it’s nothing when you admit to what you really want.

“Fingers,” you tell him. “I really want to feel t-them.”

“Is my tongue not enough?” He teases, smirking.

“But if you use your fingers, you can get me r-ready for your cock.”

You’re unsure what has gotten into you. You never usually talk like this, but it’s Yoongi. You lose yourself around him. You seem to have gotten to him too, because at that exact moment, upon hearing your words, he’s moaning deeply, eyes shut as if he’s trying to control himself. His fangs protrude over his bottom lip, chin coated in your arousal. It shines in the moonlight and he looks beautiful. Your stomach stirs once again. You crave him.

“Are you trying to weaken me?” He asks you, voice quiet. He sounds strained and for a moment you feel gleeful.

“Please,” you nod, hands reaching out to touch his face. “I need you.”

He watches you for a moment, leaning into your hand as if he’s considering your request. You open your mouth to add more but you’re cut off when he’s pouncing at you suddenly, hands leaving your waist as one snakes between your legs, fingers only after one destination. You moan out, the sound turning muffled when his mouth finds yours, tongue ramming inside, fangs clashing against your teeth. It’s messy, but urgent. You can feel how much he wants this and for once, he’s not as controlled as he usually is.

He wastes no time with pushing two fingers inside you, and your vagina takes them greedily, welcoming them inside and hugging them tight as he begins to push them in and out, sloppy noises filling the room because you’re so wet. You take him easily as if you were made for him, as if you were waiting your entire life for him. You can’t help the wanton noises that leave you because you’re so overwhelmed and you’re so happy at this moment in time. You feel full and you never want it to stop.

“Fuck,” he hisses, pulling away to kiss up your neck and inside your ear, coating you in his salvia and your used arousal. You can even taste yourself on your lips and that just turns you on even more. “Fuck, I need you too. Can you feel?” He groans, pressing his clothed erection to your thigh.

You nod madly, moaning loudly. He’s so close to you, your pressed against the bed, a mass of sweat and tangled limbs as one of his legs pins you down, your head rammed against the headboard, hair a mess by now no doubt. But all you feel is pleasure. It courses through your body, burns out your veins.

“I want to feel you, I want to fuck you.”

His confessions are falling from his lips now, he’s a mess and you can feel how desperate he is with every word. Fangs nip at your earlobe and you wince, body jerking as he husks deeply into the shell, “I want to feed from you.”

His fingers fuck up into you faster, powerful actions that have you squeezing around them. He’s no doubt trying to control his urges with a distraction and you’re sure at the rate he’s going to make you come. You can feel the tightening of your stomach, feel the burn between your legs.

“You’re gonna cum,” he notices too, and you can’t get any words out to agree, just inhuman noises falling from your lips.

He greedily laps them up, mouth back on yours again and for a moment you can’t breathe, fighting for air, chest heaving when he begins using his thumb to rub at your clit, grunting against your mouth as fucks into you rapidly. It feels like you’re drowning in the pleasure, overcome, floating but sinking at the same time, limbs trembling, toes curling into the sheets.

“Watch my hand,” he grunts, breaking away from the sloppy kiss to look between your body, temple pressed against your clammy forehead. “Watch me make you cum.”

The sight is enough to tip you over the edge. His arm between your body, the sleeve of his white shirt folded up to reveal the large veins that lace his creamy skin, traveling all the way down his hand, which is wedged between your legs, two of his fingers buried inside you while his thumb plays with your clit. The sight is too much to take in, especially when your gaze drops to your thighs, seeing them pushed wide opened and red, shaking rapidly with the forced of your impending orgasm.

His deep panting against your face is what finally does it and before you know it, you’re crying out, vision blurring as your head explodes and you’re coming all over his hand, clenching around his fingers, a gushing feeling leaving your body. It obliterates you and you’re left feeling weird, frail—weak, shaky, but deeply satisfied. You’re wetter than you were a moment before, feeling the sheets below you dampen your ass. It takes you a while to realise you may have come a little too hard. That’s never happened to you before, no wonder it feels so different.

Yoongi carefully removes his hand from between your legs, pushing your legs together with sticky fingers in a bid to relieve some of the ache in your joints as he massages them, and he grins, still panting loudly, kissing your cheek.

“You’re full of surprises,” he awes and you feel yourself blush—maybe it’s an immediate reaction to the unknown. However, as soon as he shifts to sit up, instantly undoing his shirt buttons, you forget all that.

And just like that, you want more.

He undresses swiftly before your eyes, revealing his marble like chest before he’s unbuckling his belt, the clanking sound sending fresh shivers of desire rattling up your body. And just like that he’s knelt on the bed, naked before you. Your mouth is watering as you sit up straighter, reaching out to touch him. He stops you, cupping your hands with one of his.

“I want to make you feel good too,” you let out, trying to touch him again but he shakes his head.

“This is your night,” he affirms, smiling when you go to argue. He takes his other hand to cup your face, his thumb gliding over your bottom lip and he pushes, the pad smooshing the flesh slightly. “This is just the first…you can show me how good you are at sucking dick another time. Right now, I want you fully.”

You gulp, affected by his words. You’re literally seconds away from what you’ve been craving for so long and you don’t know how to pace yourself, because you know as soon as he enters you, things will be totally different. You’ll be smitten, not that you aren’t already. You take a deep breath and nod, giving him permission to carry on as you lay your head back against the pillows. He crawls over you and you widen your legs once again, the glowing need for him back again.

He enters you slowly, taking it inch by inch and you tense your body, trying to ease up with the stretch. It feels amazing and you can’t help but grip onto the tops of his arms, anchoring him to you as he fills you completely. You lock eyes and share a smile; however you end up giggling when you accidentally squeeze around him and he groans, eyes closing, face pinched as if it’s almost painful pleasure. When he opens them again he leans down and kisses your mouth, voice strained as he speaks.

“You feel amazing—now I won’t ever want to stop fucking you.”

At his change in attitude, your stomach flips, getting ready to brace yourself for what’s about to come and before you can even think straight, he’s pulling out of you just to drive back in. A torturous pace soon turns monstrous as he snaps his hips against yours. You pin to his back, your nails leaving crescent marks in his perfect skin. His flesh is colder than yours which seems to help you. He acts as some kind of cooler, saving you and helping you keep a clearer mind. It allows you to concentrate on every little bit of euphoria he’s giving you. The carnal sounds of pleasure—moans, deep breaths, the slap of skin in skin—it all fills your ears.

You almost forget that he asked to bite you, only remembering when you feel his fangs graze along the column of your neck as he buries his face in the crook. But then it’s all you think and feel. Your whole body burns with the need for him to puncture you, taste you. You want to make him feel good, like you said, and you know this is the truest way. He’ll feel no pleasure like it, and you want that to happen with everything you have. As if he reads your mind— or maybe it’s the way you keep jutting your neck out, trying to rid the hair that covers the flesh, ride him into temptation—he groans to himself, nosing the supple skin between your neck and shoulder.

“C-can I?” His voice is shaking slightly, his arms that hold himself up tensing visibly and you wonder how much self control he has? It’s sexy that he can hold back so powerfully. Always a gentleman. And with that thought, how can you say no?

“Do it,” you whisper, fighting to turn your head to look at him as he stills all movement inside of you.

He looks comically surprised when he lifts his head to look at you too and you would probably giggle if you weren’t so wound up right now, so nervous, so excited…just a mess of emotions really… He catches your mouth with his passionately, catching you off guard for a moment, but you welcome it, running your fingers through his hair as your tongues clash together.

“It’ll feel good,” he hums, pulling away to trace little kisses down your chin, throat, and finally back to the spot he’s chosen. He kisses once, twice—runs his tongues along the clammy flesh and then kisses a last time.

Your heart thuds against your ribcage. You don’t know what to expect, but you do know you want this to happen. You want it more than anything. You slide your hands back down his back and wait patiently. He’s still inside you but hasn’t moved since you asked him to bite you and you try to concentrate on the pleasure of feeling so full. You and he are connected. It won’t hurt, he’s already told you that and you trust him. You trust him with your life. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.

“Ready?” He asks and you nod, realising he can’t see at the last minute so you let out a croaky yes, throat dry. His hands move to cup your sides, giving them a gentle squeeze, he can feel you trembling so he’s trying to ease your nerves.

He goes slowly. Nothing like you’ve seen in movies or even just imagined. He punctures the skin cleanly and groans as he has the first taste. You hardly feel a thing, akin to pin prick just more intense, and the sucking motion as he lets your blood run down his throat only heightens the pleasure. You can hear it as he swallows and you moan a little, surprising yourself. He moans back pulling away slightly to begin thrusting back into you and that’s when the euphoria becomes out of this world.

He runs his tongue along your flesh, collecting the red liquid that spills out, grunting to himself as he fucks you faster, losing himself almost, and his hands leave your body to clamp ahold of the headboard, muscles in his arms taunt, veins set to burst as he uses the leverage to go harder. You’re moaning now, loudly, spreading your legs wider, needing him as deep as he can go. You feel drunk almost, drowning in serene and you run your fingers over his chest, wanting to never let him go.

When he pulls away from your neck to look at you the sight of your blood running down his chin makes you gasp. You’ve never seen anything so beautiful and you want to kiss him. Oh, you want to kiss him so badly, it aches. His eyes are black, blown out and urgent and you guess he wants to kiss you too because before you know it, he’s on you, tongue pushing its way into your mouth and you taste the familiar metal against the muscle. It only makes you wonder what you taste like to him. By the way he’s affected, it must be good. That makes your heart swell. Especially when he begins gushing.

“You taste out of this world,” he practically moans. “Why have I waited this long to taste you?!” And this time you can’t help but giggle, feeling like you’re floating in the air. He seems mesmerised, maybe even drunk himself.

When he finally breaks free from your mouth—because you won’t let him, of course, his gaze is like fire, face serious—determined, and he begins fucking you with more force, roughly into the bed, hands still clutching the headboard as it rattles behind you. His skin glows in the moonlight and you’re in awe. He’s beautiful. Sculpted like a statue. He’s going so hard you know you’re about to come again. You can feel the familiar stretching in your stomach and you’re moaning louder and crazier, his name falling from your lips like a mantra.

“Again?” He questions, amused. His strength and stamina are more than any human and you’re finding it hard to keep up. It will take some getting used to, that’s for sure.

Before you can even think to nod he’s picking you up, his arms sweeping under your body to flip you on top of him. It’s so fast you’re out of it for a moment before realising you’re straddling him. He’s inside you and he’s sitting up too, holding your hips. You’re glad because by now you’re incredibly tired, body worn out but still chasing that pleasure you never want to burn out.

“I want to make you feel good,” he pants and you realise he’s probably nearing his release too. “So tight and wet and mine, all mine…” he rasps.

He’s fucking you faster this time, not as hard but definitely with more speed, wanting you to come around him. When he bites you the second time you’re taken by surprise, crying out. He’s rougher, snarling as he throws his head back to latch onto your left breast with vigour. Your orgasm hits you instantly, unbelievable to think that a bite could give you such immediate pleasure. It’s startling and powerful and you cry out louder, gripping onto Yoongi’s shoulders as he carries on sucking the red liquid from your flesh. It runs down your chest, you feel it trickling before it dries, and all you hear is the suckling and gulping noises that come from him as he takes you, still fucking you through your orgasm, thrusting his hips into you, bed jolting with the force.

When he fills you with his seed after a few more snaps, you feel invincible. Like nothing on this earth can harm you. You feel full, you feel sated and you could die happy.

You’re a mess when he pulls away and out of you, lying you on the bed as he hovers over your body. You’re tired, worn out, limbs aching and trembling, dried blood staining your body, but he’s healed your wounds. You only have the buzz in your veins to remind you of his marks. Like you’re high on the most wonderful drug. Min Yoongi.

“We should have a shower,” he chuckles. “You’re a mess.”

“I can’t move,” you pout, eyes half closed.

“I’ll carry you,” he quips.

And he does, strong arms wrapping around you to take you into his bathroom. You don’t remember much after that. He runs the shower, cleans you and takes you back to bed. Somewhere along the way he’s removed the soiled sheet and replaced it with a new one. The bed like new and now you’re inside, as warm as can be. Yoongi sat beside you on the edge as he runs his fingers through your damp hair—something he had tried not to get wet, but had failed miserably.

“Was I worth the wait?” He murmurs. You’re struggling to keep your eyes open but you manage to squint at him for a moment, getting him into focus.

“I want more.”

He laughs loudly at that, halting movement to push the sheet over your shoulders and tuck you in. “You’re delirious. I think I took too much blood.” He lays beside you as he speaks, burying his head in your neck. “But I couldn’t help it—you’re just too goddamn tasty,” he jokes, his voice contorting to that of a man speaking to his pet. It’s weird, doesn’t suit him, yet does at the same time. You giggle and embrace him.

“I’m not a steak.”

“Hm. That’s true. But you’re mine.”

You smile passively, too tired to give him more of a response, although your heart does feel warmer at his words. You don’t understand it, you’re just a human, so this possessive vampire talk goes over your head, but maybe deep down you should question the way his words make you feel… Not tonight though, you’re exhausted, and his bed is just too comfy to try to fight the sleep that wants you…

“I won’t be here when you wake up.”

You’re aware Yoongi’s speaking again but it’s wavering in and out of volume as you sink closer into slumber. You hum in reply. You get it, it will be daylight and he’ll be asleep himself.

“Will you stay here tomorrow, so we can spend the night together again? I’ll only be in the basement. There’s things to eat in the kitchen if you’re hungry…unless you have plans?” He adds, sounding unsure of himself, as if he’s just realised he’s babbling too much.

You reach blindly for his face, trying to find his cheek to cup with your eyes closed and when you do, you tap it reassuringly, clumsily… “I’ll stay.”

“You will?”

And you nod, literally seconds away from falling asleep. He gets that, finally, and wraps his arm around your shoulders, hugging you to him as he kisses your hair and you inhale, taking comfort in his scent; he smells like the lemon shower gel he’d used in the shower. You’ve never felt so relaxed, despite your tired and aching limbs.

He hums against your hair, squeezing you gently.

“Goodnight, sweet dreams.”

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