“i should hate you for making me this desperate. instead, i just want more.” + hongjoong 🤭
I distinctively remember we discussed mafia!AU for this and Seonghwa one... but I got another idea here >:)
Hongjoong x Reader // WC: 0.9k // G: Hurt/comfort, vampire!Hongjoong, vampire!Reader // TW: Kidnapping, mentions of death
At the beginning, it felt like the right thing to do. If you didn’t do it, you would regret it for the rest of your life, and it was supposed to be a very long one. The body on the ground, loosing blood too fast for it to be stopped. A young man, far too young for the death to be fair. His hazed gaze meeting yours. Vulnerable. Pleading. For what exactly – he couldn’t have known. He had no idea what his life would turn into. But you couldn’t let him go. Something didn’t let you.
So you turned him.
Where was that vulnerable man right now? Was he even still there?
You were supposed to be the one he would depend on. The one who would guide him through it all and teach him all the right ways.
Then how come he was stronger than you? You always thought that strength came with age and experience. But he was… something else. He was stronger than you from the moment he tasted you for the first time. Overpowering you easily and taking what he wanted, until you were hanging by a thread.
The silver chain dug into your wrist, keeping you in the range of the wall of his apartment. He learned vampires’ nature so quickly. You couldn’t help but be a bit proud of that. He knew how to be careful, how to sneak upon his prey. He outsmarted you without even trying.
You feared that he would go into frenzy. Start killing people. It sometimes happened to others. Rogue vampires who went feral from bloodlust.
He didn’t. He had gone insane. But for you, only.
The door opened. His eyes were fixated on you from the moment he entered the room and walked until he arrived at the bed you were laying on. The room was spacious and comfortable, but the chain only reached to the door and not a step further. Yet, more often than not, you found yourself sleeping your days away, too tired and apathetic to move from your spot. It was a mix of consistent blood loss and depression that rid you off the strengths to exist normally.
When he sat next to you and cradled you to his chest, you trembled slightly, but didn’t try to fight him. You might have grieved for yourself, but you somehow found comfort in his presence. There was an unspeakable bond between the two of you. Something tangible, coming from you being his maker, but also something intangible, from the yearning that he couldn’t control and that you allowed him to indulge in.
There was something refreshing in feeling like you’re, for once, back at the bottom of the food chain. A victim again, too weak to stand a chance. It was unnatural. But it did make you feel a bit more human.
His eyes were dark, a slight red hue to them when he brushed the healing wound on your neck with his fingers, irritating it enough so that a few droplets of blood emerged onto the surface. His expression was serious, focused. He pondered for a moment.
“Do you regret turning me?” he asked.
The two of you didn’t talk often. There was rarely a need to. He came hungry, took what he needed, and by the time he was done there was no strength left in you to speak. But he seemed a bit calmer today. A bit saner.
You shook your head.
“I’m glad I didn’t let you die” you replied. “I would do it again if I needed to.”
He nodded slowly. There was softness in his eyes that you didn’t usually see, even despite that red, hungry hue still present. He was becoming better and better at controlling himself, you could tell. But despite the softness, there was some sort of grief in them as well.
“What about you? Do you regret what you’ve become?” you felt bold enough to ask.
He seemed to think about it for a longer moment, maybe forgetting that you’re still here, held in his arms.
“I don’t know” he answered honestly. “I feel like I should. I feel like I should hate it and consider it a curse. Being addicted to blood. I feel like I should hate you for making me this desperate.” His eyes met yours, a new spark to them. “But instead, I just want more. Maybe the addiction is just stronger than regret. Or maybe, against everything, I don’t mind it.”
You let out a slow, shaky exhale when he moved, shifting you so that his face rested in the crook of your neck. But he didn’t bite. Not yet. You felt his warm breath against your skin.
“I will let you go” he suddenly announced. “I know what I’m doing isn’t right. I felt it is. I thought it’s justice. That you deserve this for turning me. But it was just that I craved you so badly. I didn’t know what I’m doing, and then when it hit me, I didn’t know how to take it back.”
He spoke these words honestly. Sincerely. You felt that he meant them. That he opened his soul to you, letting you know what he actually felt like.
Yet, despite that, like any other time, his fangs pierced your neck and took, and took, and ate you up.
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