pairing. ot5 (obvi not yoonchae) x fem! reader. content. wlw , anal , g!p kats for some (obvi straight p.rn for those) , degradation , use of toys .
author’s note. this is a celebration post! i had achieved 1K of followers a few days ago, i have this account for only two months now, so, for me, it means a lot! i’ve received a lot of supportive and sweet words from some of you, even with my terrible grammar mistakes so thank y’all so so so so much! <3
DANIELA;
there’s two things you know for sure about your best friend dani! one: she’s completely straight. two? one drink in and she’s more eager to eat you out than any of your exes. “it’s okay, we’re just friends, and i’m drunk! so it’s not like we’re lesbians or something.”
dani loves morning sex, grinding her own wet pussy against yours, feel you close, kiss your lips… but when you’re both still so drowsy and lazy to move, nothing’s better that the toy dani bought < 3! “you’re so wet baby… you were dreaming about me too? i was dreaming about you.”
“just the tip, i promise. c’mon, baby, please, don’t you love me, hm? don’t you wanna make me happy? just the tip, it won’t even hurt…” g!p dani can be so, so convincing sometimes.
MEGAN;
mei loveeees to suck on your tits and tease you with her tongue < \ 3 “hmmm, you like that, baby? i bet you’re dripping wet right now, aren’t you?”
when you first suggested the strap, you thought megan would be the hesitating one… you were totally surprised when she got so into it that she even made you suck on it like a real dick, but you were not complaining tho. “this is so fucking hot… fuck, you like sucking my cock?”
g!p megan easily gets all needy and hard mid day, so you always have to help her release that energy… good thing she doesn’t last long as soon as she sees your tongue out, eager for her load. “thanks babe… you’re such a good girlfriend, can we cuddle now?”
SOPHIA;
doesn’t matter how long or tiring her day may be, sophia always makes sure to take good care of her good girl before bed < 3! “my pretty baby is needy hm? let me take care of you.”
sophi can eat you out and spank your ass red for hours after watching you misbehave . “stay still for me, hm? just stay still and let me taste that sweet pussy.”
“oh baby, you need to cum so bad, don’t you? its okay, baby, use my cock, make yourself feel good for me, my little slut” g!p sophia doesn’t mind being your toy sometimes… after all you’re always hers >.<
LARA.
lara lovessss to record videos of you bouncing on her strap, the two things she likes to show off ; her hot, slutty girlfriend and her tattoos < 3 “yeah, keep bouncing on it, so eager for my strap… little slut.”
sometimes, g!p lara doesn’t punish your bad behavior by spanking you or edging you… sometimes she just makes you stroke her cock endlessly, dripping wet to have it in you. something she never allows, of course. “just one hand… you’re lucky i’m even letting you touch it, don’t be greedy.”
“great view, isn’t it, baby? look at it… but don’t stop, don’t fucking stop.” g!p lara loves when you sneak in her hotel just to ride her dick like a little slut the next second she texts you she’s hard < / 3 she loves your willingness.
MANON.
after halloween party, you were both a little tipsy, but so, soooo eager, that manon had to fuck you with her strap still with your costume on. “fuck, baby… you were dripping wet like this the whole time? damn, you could’ve just asked for my strap earlier, princess.”
one or two drags on the joint and manz is already needy to have your pretty pussy rubbing against hers, sweet moans leaving both of your mouths as she begs you to move your hips faster < 3 “hmmm, damn, just like this, baby, faster, faster, f-fuck… i’m so close already.”
g!p manz loves so much to fill you with her seed! > . < specially from behind, she can watch her cum leaking out of your pretty little hole. “so good like this, so good, gonna fill you up so good, my slut.”
scene : your boyfriend calls you, but your ‘kinda’ busy, and manon makes sure he knows his girl is busy.
content warning : cheating , g!p manon , fem reader , manon is cocky , creampie , squirt , language , praise words , pet names.
author's note : stay hydrated guys 😌 . m.list
You were in a sticky situation at the moment, well your legs were sticky drooping with your cum mixed in with manon’s. You knew this was wrong, she was your boyfriend’s best friend. But he disrespected you in front of everyone tonight, making you leave the house party.
To get revenge you decided to sleep with his best friend, the friend who he grew up with from childhood. Doing this feels like betrayal to him. But Manon didn’t care, she had the prettiest chick, getting cracked by her.
Manon originally had a crush on you, but so did Jacob so she let Jacob take you out on her dream dates. She let him have the girl she wanted, kiss the girl she wanted, even slept with the girl she wanted. It wasn’t fair for her.
So now she had you where she wanted, she took deep thrusts into you. “Fuck you tight as hell pretty..” her hips pulled away before snapping forwards again. You whined, this was so wrong on so many levels but she felt so good.
You’d already cummed on her dick twice, and your third was already building up into a knot. “m..manon..” you muttered, she couldn’t hear you though — the background sounds of her clapping your cheeks.
“Shit baby..” she braced her hands on your waist and started thrusting into you. Your head dipped into the mattress, “manon.. m’close..” you finally started over you rambling.
“again? You already gonna cum for me right now..?” She leaned in her chest pressed in your back. “Hold it for me princess.. imma cum with you soon.. so be good for mama yea..?”
You nodded, Jacob never made you feel like this ever, he’d always pull out to cum on your thigh. He never had good enough stamina and never filled you up like how manon. You started to regret your choices of choosing him over her.
You clenched hard onto her dick holding it in as the good girl you know you are for her, as you gripped the sheets holding on for dear life your phone rang. If was located near were manon was standing, “your phone is ringing dear..” she looked at you and smirked as you completely ignored her words.
At this point your brain was all mushed up, you were so sensitive that your body was going in overdrive. “Imma answer it and give it to you yea..?..” she picked up your phone, it was Jacob calling you.
“Well well well this will be fun princess..” she clicked answer, and handed you the phone, you gripped it trying not to moan as manon found a new spot inside you to hit.
Jacob : “yn i’m sorry is was a stupid fucking plan and i fucked up badly.. please come back our apartment.. please..”
you : “i-im.. at a.. a friends house jacob.. i just want..” your breath went shakey, you were on the brim.
Jacob : “yn are you okay? You sound like you’re running a marathon..”
You couldn’t bring yourself to answer, but Manon noticed and pulls out before thrusting hardly back in. You let out a yelp into the phone.
Jacob : “yn? Are you there?”
You didn’t answer, you were absolutely gone.
Manon took the phone.
Jacob : “yn yn? Are you there? Whats that noise..?”
Manon : “sup cobby, your girl’s kinda busy right now..”
Jacob : “what? Manon what are you talking about..? — what’s going on with you and yn..?”
Manon : “she’s fine, i’m just making sure she’s alright..”
Jacob sighed : “okay i’ll call back tomorrow.. just take care of her for me..”
Manon : “of course Cobby, you’re my brother from another mother..” she hanged up throwing you phone back onto the desk.
“He’s so fucking stupid..” she continued thrusting, “i dunno what you saw in him pretty.” You looked up at her.. “..close..”
She nodded, “yea.. cum for me baby.. lemme see you squirt all over this dick.” And so you did so, your legs shook your hold pushing her completely out as well as her cum.
trick!manon who literally gives you whatever the fuck you want no questions asked. she has you spoiled downnn. you’re completely ruined, completely. no matter how much you mouth off or just be a complete brat, manon is still swiping that card at the end of the day. you’re her spoiled princess and she knows a trip to the mall would shut all of that attitude up.
trick!manon who gave you access to everything. you know all of her pins, her checkings, everything. manon wants you to have access to her funds even when she’s not with you. she would call you when her card charges way too many times, not because it’s an issue but because she’s just so curious on what her baby girl wants.
trick!manon who loves all of your bratty behavior. she believes she can handle it all. besides theres nothing a bag(or some dick) can’t solve!
trick!manon who’s so obsessed with you. she wants to give you everything she has truly. the only thing you have to do is look pretty and give her some sugar and she’s giving you everything.
trick!manon is lowkey clingy. when she’s away she’s always thinking about you, wanting to know what you’re doing. she’s never been the nonchalant type. she’s always sending you a message, checking in—wondering how much of her money you’ve spent already. she’s always curious to know what her princess is up to.
trick!manon who knows you love the attention she gives, even if you don’t want to admit it. if she’s not calling you, sending you money, or just sweet talking you up, you would throw a fit.
trick!manon who will allow any tantrum you throw at her, every fit you throw. she’ll take it, it’s no problem at all. she can handle it. but all of that control seems to go out of the window the moment you curse at her. that controlled persona she had would snap instantly. manon will let you know that those words do not fly around here and for you not to use those vile words again.
“a pretty girl should never use such ugly words.” manon spat in your ear. your arms were above your head, manon’s strong grip trapping your wrist. manon’s dick pounded deep inside of you, her angry tip brushing against your favorite stop with each thrust. “especially my pretty girl, and especially with me.”your eyes rolled back to your head at the feeling of manon’s pulsing cock spreading your tight cunt open. manon continued fucking you, whispering in your ear about you watching you mouth the next time you speak to her and making you apologize while her dick stuffed your pussy.
trick!manon who enforces manners. yes, she knows she made you spoiled rotten and that you can become a little too much—a little too bratty, but when you become a little too out of control, manon she knows how to knock you right back down for you to get your act together. all of that access you had to her money? gone. those constant notifications of manon sending you money? gone. weekly trips to the mall? completely gone. manon cut everything she gave you off. you couldn’t get anything you wanted unless you asked manon, the right way. there’s no “give me..” “i want..” “do this..” , none of that. until you learned how to ask for things with the manners manon knows you have, you won’t be getting anything from her. yes she lovess spending every penny on you. but those are privileges at the end of the day and you will show manon gratitude for everything she does for you.
>> After your grandparents passed, your parents dumped their old, rotting manor on you with zero help. “You’re broke, so deal with it,” they said. Reluctantly, you move into the isolated, creepy estate alone, expecting dust, leaks, and maybe some rats.
pair ; ghostbride!manon bannerman / g!p!reader
tags ; penetration. murder act. blood. soft sex.
-> ‘MYLM’ masterlist.
—
You woke up with a sharp jolt, heart hammering against your ribs like it was trying to escape. For a second you just lay there staring at the cracked ceiling, breathing hard, the leftover haze of whatever happened last night still clinging to the edges of your mind.
Your head throbbed dully behind your eyes. You sat up slowly and looked around.
The big old master bedroom looked the same — dusty, heavy curtains half-drawn, the antique furniture covered in thin sheets of dust that somehow felt thicker now.
You pressed a hand to your chest, then down your arms, across your stomach, checking yourself like you needed proof you were still solid. Everything felt real.
You glanced down and froze.
You were wearing clean clothes. Soft gray pants and a plain white t-shirt that definitely weren’t what you fell asleep in.
Your own stuff, somehow, but freshly washed and neat, like someone had changed you while you were out cold.
The idea made your stomach twist. You ran your hands over the fabric again, half-expecting it to disappear or turn back into the messy shorts from before.
Nothing changed.
“Weird…” you muttered under your breath, voice rough from sleep.
The headache pulsed harder when you stood up. You swayed a little, gripping the edge of the bed until the room stopped tilting.
Your phone. You needed your phone.
You patted your pockets, checked the nightstand, the floor, even under the bed. Nothing. The room felt too quiet, the kind of quiet that pressed against your ears.
You walked to the door and pulled it open, stepping out into the hallway with the vague plan of searching downstairs.
The second your bare feet hit the floorboards outside the bedroom, something felt off. The air was colder.
The light was dimmer, coming from nowhere in particular.
Your stomach dropped.
The hallway stretched far longer than it should have. Way longer.
The walls were lined with old portraits whose eyes seemed to follow you, the wallpaper peeling in long strips that curled like dead leaves. Doors lined both sides, most of them closed, some slightly ajar with pure black behind them.
The ceiling felt higher than before, the whole space stretched and warped like the house had decided to grow overnight.
You knew this hallway. It had never been this long.
“What…” you whispered.
Panic crawled up your throat. You spun around and reached for the bedroom door you’d just come through, ready to slam it shut and pretend none of this was happening.
Your hand closed on empty air. The door was gone.
Smooth wall stared back at you where the entrance to the master bedroom should have been, the wallpaper seamless and unbroken like it had always been that way.
“Fuck… fuck… fuck!”
Your voice cracked. You pressed both hands against the wall, searching for a seam, a crack, anything. Nothing.
The hallway seemed to stretch even farther the longer you stared down it, the far end disappearing into shadow.
Then you heard it.
Soft giggles. Light, feminine, echoing from somewhere behind you.
You turned slowly, every muscle tight. At the far end of the endless hallway stood a woman. She was wearing a beautiful white bridal dress — the kind that looked expensive and old at the same time, lace cascading down her arms and trailing across the floor in delicate waves.
The fabric was slightly translucent in places, catching the dim light. Her dark hair was half-up, soft strands framing a face that was elegant, with eyes that locked onto yours the moment you looked at her.
She stood perfectly still for a second, then tilted her head and smiled, the sound of those soft giggles still lingering in the air around her.
She took one slow step forward.
The hem of the white dress whispered against the floorboards.
You backed up until your shoulders hit the wall where the bedroom door used to be, heart slamming so hard you could feel it in your throat.
The hallway felt smaller all of a sudden, the portraits on the walls leaning in, the shadows growing thicker around the edges of her dress.
She kept walking toward you, that same gentle smile on her face, the bridal gown floating just slightly with every step like it had a mind of its own.
She kept coming closer until the soft white lace of her dress brushed against your legs. Her face was only inches away now, those calm eyes studying you with quiet curiosity.
You could feel the faint chill that always seemed to follow her, the kind that sank into your skin without being sharp.
Your heart was racing so hard it made your vision blur at the edges.
You squeezed your eyes shut and turned your head away, pressing yourself harder against the wall.
“Please don’t kill me… please don’t kill me…” you whispered, the words tumbling out in a shaky rush.
Your hands were clenched into fists at your sides, body locked up tight like if you stayed still enough she might decide you weren’t worth the trouble.
There was a soft, startled sound, and then the cold presence in front of you pulled back all at once.
You heard the faint rustle of fabric as she stepped away.
“Oh, I’m so sorry!” her voice came, gentle and genuinely upset. “Did I scare you? I didn’t mean to. Really, I didn’t.”
You stayed frozen for another second, eyes still shut, before you slowly cracked them open.
She had moved back several steps, hands raised a little like she was trying to show she wasn’t a threat.
The bridal dress still floated softly around her, but the smile on her face had turned into something softer, almost embarrassed.
She was beautiful.
The kind of beautiful that felt unfair in a place this rotten and old. Her hair framed her face in soft waves, her features gorgeous and calm, eyes warm even in the dim light of the endless hallway.
The white lace of the dress made her look like she’d stepped out of an old painting, except she was standing right there looking at you with clear concern.
“I’m Manon,” she said, voice still careful and kind. “Pleasure to meet you… although…” She let out a small, airy laugh, the sound light and a little awkward. “Our first meeting did not turn out well, did it?”
You just stared at her, mouth slightly open, brain struggling to catch up.
One second you were sure you were about to die in a haunted hallway that shouldn’t even exist, and the next this woman in a wedding dress was apologizing like she’d bumped into you at a grocery store.
Your headache pulsed behind your eyes. Your heart was still trying to climb out of your throat. You couldn’t find a single word that made sense.
Manon waited patiently, hands folded loosely in front of her, the long train of her dress pooling on the floorboards behind her like it belonged there.
She tilted her head slightly, watching you with that same gentle expression, as if she had all the time in the world for you to stop looking so completely lost.
You finally found your voice, though it came out thinner than you wanted.
“What… what even is this place?” you asked, still pressed against the wall. “There was a girl last night who went through walls, then a zombie feeding me drinks, and now you’re floating around in a wedding dress. I don’t— I don’t understand any of this.”
Manon gave a small, understanding nod, the soft lace of her sleeves shifting with the movement. She stayed a careful distance away, clearly trying not to startle you again.
“I know it must feel overwhelming,” she said, voice calm and warm. “Most people who come here don’t stay long enough to ask questions. Your grandparents were different. They own this place — they were the ones who helped each of us.”
You frowned, the headache still pulsing behind your eyes. “My grandparents? The creepy ones who collected dead butterflies and talked to walls?”
A quiet smile touched her lips. “Yes. Those ones. They found us over the years — some of us already tied to the land, some of us brought here by accident or worse. Instead of trying to force us out, they made space for us. Treated us like we still mattered.”
She glanced down the endless hallway for a moment, then back at you. “This house became more than a home for the living. It became a place where the ones who couldn’t leave could still… exist.”
You rubbed your temples, trying to make sense of it. “So you’re all just… stuck here? Forever?”
“Not exactly forever,” Manon replied. “But for a very long time. I’m the oldest among us. I’ve been here the longest. The others came later — Lara, Megan, Daniela, Yoonchae, Sophia. Your grandparents helped each one of us settle in their own way.”
You stared at her, still half-convinced this was some fever dream caused by the headache and whatever potion you’d drunk. “And now I’m stuck with all of you because I inherited this place?”
Manon tilted her head slightly, the soft white veil of her hair shifting. “You’re not stuck. The house opened itself to you. That means something. Your grandparents left it to you for a reason. Whether you decide to stay or not is still your choice… but the rest of us have been waiting a long time for someone living to walk these halls again.”
She took one careful step closer, still keeping enough space that you wouldn’t feel trapped.
Her voice stayed gentle.
“I know we must seem frightening. Lara can be reckless. Megan is… something. But none of us wish you harm. We’re just… here. And you’ve become part of this place now, whether you meant to or not.”
You let out a shaky breath, looking at the beautiful woman in the bridal dress who spoke like she’d been waiting decades just to have this conversation.
The hallway still felt wrong and stretched, the portraits still watched, but somehow her presence made the air a little less heavy.
“I don’t even know what to say to any of that,” you admitted quietly.
Manon reached out slowly, giving you time to pull away if you wanted. When you didn’t, she gently took both of your hands in hers. Her skin was cool but not unpleasant, soft in a way that felt almost human.
“Come with me,” she said quietly. “There’s somewhere I think you’ll know.”
She led you down the long hallway that somehow shortened as you walked, the walls shifting until a side door appeared that hadn’t been there before.
Manon pushed it open with one hand and guided you outside into the garden behind the manor.
The moment your feet touched the grass, something in your chest tightened.
You remembered this place.
As a child your grandparents used to bring you here whenever you visited.
They would let you run between the flower beds while they sat on the old stone bench and talked in low voices. You remembered the smell of roses and damp earth, the way the sunlight filtered through the tall trees.
That was almost all you had of them that felt normal.
Everything else — the butterfly jars, the late-night whispering to empty rooms, the way they looked at the walls like someone was answering — had made them feel strange and distant as you grew older.
You had stopped wanting to visit.
You had started calling them creepy in your head long before they passed.
Manon walked beside you in silence for a while, still holding one of your hands. The garden was somehow more alive than you remembered.
Flowers of every color spilled over the edges of the paths, some of them glowing faintly under the soft daylight that shouldn’t have been this gentle around a haunted manor. Bees drifted between blossoms.
The air smelled clean and sweet.
“They were the nicest people I’ve ever known,” Manon said after a while, her voice soft. “Truly.”
You looked at the path under your feet. “Right…”
She didn’t push. She just kept walking with you, the long train of her white bridal dress trailing behind her without ever catching on the grass.
The sunlight caught her from the side, turning the lace almost translucent and painting soft gold across her skin and hair.
For a second she looked less like a ghost and more like something that had stepped out of a painting — calm, luminous, and impossibly beautiful.
You didn’t realize you had stopped walking until she turned back to face you.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, tilting her head slightly.
You opened your mouth, closed it, then tried again. Your voice came out quieter than you meant it to.
“You’re actually… um. Really pretty.”
Manon’s lips curved into a small, almost shy smile. “Yeah?” She stepped a little closer, the sunlight still catching the edges of her dress. “The funny thing is, we undead have many forms. This is just the one I prefer when I’m around someone living.”
She was close enough now that you could see the faint shimmer around her, the way the light seemed to hold onto her a second longer than it should.
Your thoughts scattered. You couldn’t focus on anything except the quiet look in her eyes and the cool brush of her fingers still loosely holding yours.
Manon leaned in slowly, giving you every chance to step back. When you didn’t, she closed the last bit of space and pressed her lips to yours.
The kiss was soft at first — careful, almost hesitant — like she was afraid of scaring you again. Her cool mouth moved gently against yours, and the world around the garden seemed to go quiet.
You felt her free hand rise to rest lightly against your cheek, thumb brushing your skin as she deepened the kiss just a little, still patient, still sweet.
When she finally pulled back, her forehead rested lightly against yours for a moment. Her eyes stayed closed, a soft breath leaving her.
“I’ve waited a long time to do that,” she whispered.
The soft kiss didn’t stay soft for long.
You leaned back in almost without thinking, chasing her mouth, and Manon met you halfway. Her cool hands slid up to cup your face as the kiss deepened, slow and hungry at the same time.
The garden around you faded into a blur of color and sunlight.
She walked you backward until the backs of her legs hit the old stone bench your grandparents used to sit on. She sank down onto it gracefully, the white lace of her bridal dress spilling over the edges like foam, and pulled you with her.
You ended up straddling her lap, knees on either side of her thighs, hands braced on the cool stone behind her shoulders.
Manon’s fingers tangled in your hair as she kissed you again, deeper this time, tongue brushing against yours in a way that made your stomach flip.
You made a quiet sound against her mouth and she answered with a soft hum, one hand sliding down your back to rest at the curve of your waist.
“Manon—” you breathed when she finally let you pull back for air. Your voice sounded rough already. “This is… fuck, this is crazy.”
She smiled against your lips, eyes half-lidded. “I know. You can stop whenever you want.”
You don’t want to. Obviously.
You kissed her again, harder, and she arched up into you. The thin fabric of her dress did almost nothing to hide the shape of her body. You could feel the soft press of her breasts against your chest every time she moved.
Your hands found the delicate buttons along the front of the bodice and started undoing them one by one, clumsy with urgency.
Manon helped, shrugging the lace off her shoulders until the dress slipped down to her waist, leaving her bare from the chest up in the soft garden light.
You stared for a second, breathing hard.
“God, you’re beautiful,” you muttered, almost to yourself.
Manon let out a quiet, shy laugh that turned into a soft gasp when you leaned down and took one of her cool nipples into your mouth.
You sucked gently at first, then harder when her fingers tightened in your hair.
Her skin was cool against your tongue, the contrast making everything feel sharper.
You switched to the other breast, licking and sucking while your hand squeezed the first, thumb brushing over the wet peak.
“That feels good,” she whispered, head tipping back. “Keep going… please.”
You stayed there for a while, mouth busy on her tits, until the ache between your legs got too insistent to ignore.
Your cock was fully hard now, pressing uncomfortably against the soft fabric of the clean pants someone had put you in. Manon felt it.
Her hand slid down between your bodies and cupped you through the material, fingers tracing the thick outline with careful curiosity.
“You’re hard already,” she murmured, almost wonderingly. “May I…?”
You nodded, voice catching. “Yeah. Please.”
She worked the waistband down just enough to free your cock. The cool air hit you first, then her cooler fingers wrapped around the shaft and stroked slowly from base to tip.
You groaned into her collarbone, hips jerking forward into her hand.
“Fuck— Manon—”
She kept stroking you in that same unhurried rhythm while you went back to sucking on her nipples, the wet sounds of your mouth mixing with the quiet rustle of leaves and the soft, breathy noises she made.
After a minute she shifted under you, guiding the head of your cock between her thighs.
The bridal dress was still bunched around her hips; she pulled the fabric aside and you felt the cool, slick heat of her entrance against you.
You both went still for a second.
“You sure?” you asked, voice low and strained. Your forehead rested against hers, both of you breathing the same air.
Manon nodded, eyes soft. “I’m sure. I want you.”
You pushed in slowly.
The first slide was intense — her pussy was cold inside the way Megan’s had been, but tighter, silkier, and already so wet it made the stretch easy. You sank in inch by inch until your hips were flush against hers, both of you letting out shaky breaths at the same time.
Manon’s arms wrapped around your back, holding you close as she adjusted to the feeling of being filled.
“You’re so warm,” she whispered against your ear. “I can feel every pulse.”
You started moving, slow deep thrusts that made the old stone bench creak under you. Every time you bottomed out she made a soft, broken sound and her cold walls fluttered around your cock.
You kept one hand braced on the stone and the other on her breast, squeezing and teasing her nipple while you fucked her in long, steady strokes.
“Feels so good,” you panted against her neck. “You’re so fucking soft inside—”
Manon turned her head and kissed you again, messy and open-mouthed, while her hips rolled up to meet every thrust.
The garden sunlight painted gold across her bare skin and the white lace still tangled around her waist. Birds kept singing like nothing unusual was happening on the old stone bench.
You picked up the pace, the wet sound of your cock sliding in and out of her filling the quiet space between the flower beds.
Manon’s legs tightened around your hips, heels digging into the backs of your thighs as she pulled you deeper.
“Don’t stop,” she breathed against your mouth. “Please— right there— I’m close already—”
You reached between you and rubbed her clit in tight circles while you kept thrusting, and that was all it took. Manon came with a soft, trembling cry, her cold pussy clenching hard around your cock in rhythmic pulses.
The feeling dragged you over the edge right after her. You buried yourself deep and came with a low groan, spilling inside her in thick pulses while she held you through it, fingers stroking the back of your neck.
You stayed like that for a long moment afterward, still joined, both of you catching your breath under the warm garden light. Manon’s hand kept moving slowly through your hair, gentle and grounding.
“You’re not running this time,” she murmured, a small smile in her voice.
You let out a breathless, half-dazed laugh against her shoulder. “Yeah… I don’t think I could even if I wanted to.”
You leaned in again and kissed her, slower this time. Soft little presses of your mouth against hers, then along the edge of her jaw, then back to her lips.
Between each one you murmured quiet things against her skin.
“You’re so beautiful… shit, look at you…”
Manon’s shoulders shook with a soft giggle, the sound light and almost shy. Her cool fingers traced lazy circles on your back while you kept giving her those unhurried kisses, still half in her lap on the old stone bench.
After a while you sat up a little, your forehead resting against hers for a second before you pulled back enough to look at her properly. The white bridal dress was still half-slipped off her body, lace pooled around her waist, her hair a little messy from your hands.
“I’ve been curious,” you said, voice still rough. “Why do you always wear this? The bride clothes. It feels like there’s a story behind it.”
Manon’s smile faded into something softer, more distant. She looked down at the lace covering her lap, fingers absently smoothing a wrinkled fold.
“Yeah…” she said quietly. “It has.”
The memory came to her the way it always.
—
She had been twenty-three. The wedding was held in a grand estate far from here, the kind of place that belonged to old money and older secrets. Her husband, Thomas, had smiled through the entire ceremony, charming and attentive, the perfect picture of a devoted groom. Manon had believed every word of the vows.
She had walked down the aisle in this very dress, heart full, thinking she was starting a life.
The reception had barely ended when everything cracked.
She had gone looking for him after the guests left, still in her bridal gown because she hadn’t wanted to take it off yet. She found him in one of the side rooms with the young maid who had served the champagne all evening.
Thomas had the girl bent over a table, trousers around his ankles, one hand clamped over the maid’s mouth. The wet sounds of him fucking her filled the hallway.
Manon had stood frozen in the doorway, the bouquet still in her hand.
Thomas looked up. His face went white for half a second, then twisted into something ugly.
“Manon—”
“You absolute bastard,” she whispered. Her voice shook but it carried. “On our wedding night? Really?”
He pulled out of the maid and yanked his trousers up, already moving toward her. “Listen to me. You will not make a scene. Do you understand? You will go upstairs, and you will forget what you saw.”
“I will do no such thing.” Manon’s hands clenched around the bouquet until the stems snapped. “I’m ending this. Tonight. I’m going to every guest who is still here and I’m telling them exactly what kind of man they just watched me marry.”
That was when the fear hit him.
Thomas had money. He had power. A public scandal on the night of his wedding would ruin the carefully built image he needed for the business deals waiting in the morning. He couldn’t let her walk out of that room.
“Manon, don’t—”
She turned for the door.
He grabbed her from behind, one arm locking around her waist, the other clamping over her mouth. She fought hard, elbows and heels and the sharp edge of a broken bouquet stem, but he was stronger.
They stumbled into the next room — a small study with heavy curtains and a thick rug. He forced her down. When she kept struggling and trying to scream, he grabbed the heavy brass letter opener from the desk.
The first stab went into her side. The second higher, under her ribs. Blood soaked through the white lace of her wedding dress almost immediately.
Thomas’s face was pale and sweating. “You should have just stayed quiet,” he hissed. “Why couldn’t you just stay quiet?”
He stabbed her twice more before her body went limp.
For a long minute he just stood there, breathing hard, staring at the blood spreading across the white fabric. Then the panic set in for real. He dragged her body through a side door and into the carriage house, wrapping her in an old horse blanket. He had the money and the connections to make a problem disappear — or so he thought.
He planned to bury her on the far edge of the estate grounds before sunrise and claim she had left him in a fit of hysteria.
He never got that far.
One of the older groundskeepers had heard the struggle. The man was loyal to Manon’s family, not to Thomas.
By the time Thomas had the body in the carriage house, the groundskeeper had already ridden hard to the neighboring property — the one owned by a quiet couple known for taking in strange cases and asking few questions.
Your grandparents.
They arrived before the sun came up. They found Manon’s body still in the blood-soaked bridal gown, still warm enough that the tragedy felt fresh. They did not call the authorities first.
They took her themselves, carefully, respectfully, and brought her here — to the manor you now stayed.
They buried her properly in the garden soil beneath the rose bushes, speaking soft words over the grave the way they did for every lost soul they took in.
Thomas was arrested two days later when the groundskeeper’s testimony and the blood evidence in the study became impossible to ignore.
The panic that had started the moment Manon threatened to expose him never really left his face, even in court.
And Manon… Manon woke up three nights later under the rose bushes, still wearing the same white dress.
The lace had become part of her somehow — the last thing she had worn while she was still alive and still hopeful.
—
Back in the present, Manon sat quietly on the stone bench with you still in her lap, eyes distant.
“Your grandparents found me,” she finished softly.
“They gave me a place to rest when no one else would have. That’s why I stay. That’s why I wear this.” She touched the lace at her waist with gentle fingers. “I never got to take it off while I was alive. Now it feels like the only piece of that night that still belongs to me… and not to him.”
She looked at you then, the sadness still in her eyes but softer around the edges.
“I’m glad they left the house to someone who can see us,” she said. “It means their kindness didn’t end with them.”
You sat there for a moment after she finished speaking, the weight of the story settling heavy in your chest.
“I’m sorry to hear that…” you said finally, voice low. Your hand found hers without thinking, fingers curling gently around her cooler ones. “That’s… really fucked up. You didn’t deserve any of it.”
Manon looked down at your joined hands, a small, tired smile pulling at her lips. “It’s fine,” she answered softly. “It was a long time ago. I’ve had years to make peace with it. Your grandparents made sure of that.” She squeezed your hand once, light and reassuring. “You don’t have to look so sad for me. I’m still here, aren’t I?”
You tried to straighten your shoulders a little, forcing a tougher edge into your voice even though the knot in your throat hadn’t fully gone away. “Yeah, well. If that sick fuck was still alive I’d… I don’t know. Do something or punch him. Burn his house down. Whatever.”
You cleared your throat, glancing away for a second. “Point is, he was a piece of shit and I’m glad he got caught.”
Manon’s quiet laugh surprised you. It was soft and genuine, the kind that made her eyes warm again.
“You’re sweet when you try to sound tough,” she teased gently. Then her expression turned a little more playful. “Though you do know I’m way older than you, right? By quite a lot. I’ve watched decades go by in this garden. You’re still young enough that ‘burning houses down’ sounds like a solid plan.”
You blinked, then let out a short, awkward huff of laughter despite yourself. “Okay, first of all, age is just a number when one of us is technically dead. Second—” you pointed at her weakly, “—you’re the one who just told me a murder story while looking like you stepped out of a wedding magazine, so I think I’m allowed to be a little tough-acting.”
Manon grinned, the sadness in her face easing further. She reached up and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear with cool fingers.
“Fair enough,” she said.
The two of you stayed like that for a while longer on the old stone bench, hands still loosely linked, the garden humming quietly around you.
The heavy weight of her past hadn’t disappeared, but it felt a little lighter now that it had been spoken out loud — and a little less lonely with someone living there to hear it.
SYN. you can devour me whole ✮──── the girls find out you’re a vampire and their reaction surprises you
my thirst is eternal ∼ (ot6 katseye && vampire!r) ☹︎ cw : Lara is wants that cookie baddd fluff ,, smut (MDNI) it’s long but it worth it.
A/N: it’s actually ot5, oh and daniela speaks spanish because everytime she does i turn into a whore
SFW
Sophia Laforteza
It was obvious Sophia adored you. Fans joked you were her favorite, she loved being near you, touching you, hugging you, fixing your hair even when it didn’t need fixing. She once asked for your hair routine and you panicked, mumbling something about a hair mask before washing. Somehow, she bought it. You weren’t big on physical touch, ironic for a vampire, but with Sophia, it never felt wrong.
One late night, you were in the kitchen, quietly drinking from a pouch of animal blood while scrolling on your phone. You were sure everyone was asleep, until—
“Hey—”
Sophia’s voice startled you. The pouch slipped from your hand, blood splashing across the floor. She froze, eyes dropping to the mess. “Oh.. mahal, I’m so sorry, I didn’t realize you were…” She trailed off, then looked back up at you. “Were you drinking that?”
She stepped closer, gently lifting your chin when you wouldn’t look at her. “You were drinking blood, weren’t you?”
You nodded.
“That’s why you don’t eat normal food,” she said softly, like she was piecing together a puzzle she’d been studying for months. “Why you’re always cold. Why you’re awake at night. Why your eyes glow when you’re hungry, or annoyed.”
You felt exposed, terrified, then she let go and grabbed gloves and cleaner. “I’ll clean this. Are you okay? Do you need more, or… to go out?”
“I’m fine,” you whispered. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you.” Your voice cracked, tears spilling before you could stop them.
Sophia cupped your face and kissed your forehead. “It’s okay. I get why you were scared. I won’t hold it against you.”
From that night on, she took care of you quietly. Blood tablets tucked into her purse for interviews. An extra hoodie during rehearsals. A gentle hand on the others’ shoulders when you got overstimulated. She asked questions, sometimes too many, but she always apologized when you pulled back. She just wanted to make it easier for you.
“Does animal blood really work the same as human blood?”
“How often do you need to feed?”
“Do early call times hurt, or just annoy you?”
“Is sunlight dangerous, or just uncomfortable?”
“What happens if you don’t feed enough?”
“Do you age… like us?”
“Is there anything I should not do that might hurt you?”
Megan Skiendiel
Megan noticed the change right away, how close you and Sophia had become. She told herself she didn’t care, but it still stung. Ever since Dream Academy, she’d quietly believed you found her annoying. Too loud. Too much. You barely talked to her unless it was about schedules or formations, and every short reply felt like proof.
What Megan didn’t know was that you kept your distance on purpose. You wanted to tell her the truth, but Megan couldn’t keep a secret to save her life.
It happened at a fan meeting.
The girls were lined up against the barricade, signing albums and posing for photos. Camera flashes burned your eyes, each one sharp enough to make you hiss curses in Romanian under your breath. That’s when you heard it, Megan’s voice, strained, swallowed by the noise.
From the corner of your eye, you saw a bodyguard trying to pull her away from the fans. She was clearly uncomfortable, protesting, but he couldn’t hear her over the screaming.
You could.
You moved without thinking, too fast. Fans blinked, confused, but quickly rationalized it away. Didn’t she run track or something?
“Didn’t you hear her?” you snapped at the guard. “She said put her down.” He ignored you. So you grabbed his arm and squeezed. He yelped and immediately let go, setting Megan down.
“Thank you,” she breathed, and then she hugged you. You stiffened, surprised, before slowly wrapping your arms around her. She held on. “Hey, y/n?” she murmured into your shoulder.
“Yeah?”
“You’re a vampire… aren’t you?”
You froze. Somehow, she knew. And despite your better judgment, despite the begging, the pouting, the whining, the wide hopeful eyes, you caved. You told her.
She lost her mind.
“So like… hypothetically, could you feed off me if you wanted to? Is it weird that I think that’s kinda hot?”
“If I got a paper cut, would you… notice?”
“Do you sparkle?” (she laughed when you stared at her) “Kidding! Mostly.”
“Are you immortal-immortal or just… long-living immortal?”
“Wait, does garlic actually do anything?”
“Can you turn into a bat? Please say yes.”
She asked too much. Too fast. But for once, she wasn’t loud because she wanted attention, she was loud because she was excited. And somehow… she still kept your secret.
Manon Bannerman
Manon wasn’t stupid, she just refused to assume. As a certified Twilight enthusiast, she’d gone back and forth for weeks on whether you were secretly a vampire… or just the weirdest human she’d ever met. Either way, curiosity itched at her.
So she made a plan.
She waited until the dorm was quiet, then leaned against the doorway of your room, trying, and failing, to hide her smirk. “Hey. You wanna watch Twilight with me?”
You groaned instantly. “Absolutely not. It’s so cringey. I’m not watching a whole series where vampires are completely mischaracterized.” Manon’s eyebrow twitched. “Mischaracterized?”
You froze.
She pressed play anyway, plopping down beside you on the couch like she owned the place. The movie barely started before you were already scowling. “They don’t hunt like that,” you muttered. Manon paused the movie. “Like what?”
“And the heart rate thing? Completely inaccurate,” you continued, waving a hand. “No vampire would—” You stopped short.
Slowly, Manon turned to you, eyes bright. “Would… what?” You swallowed. Too late. She leaned closer, grin spreading. “Wow. You sound very confident for someone who claims they’re not a vampire.”
You sighed. “…I hate you.” She gasped dramatically. “So you are?”
Your eyes flickered, just for a second, catching the light wrong, glowing faintly. Manon’s breath hitched. “Oh my god,” she whispered, half-awed, half-thrilled. “I knew it. I knew it.”
She didn’t scream. Didn’t panic. She just smiled, wide and delighted. “So,” she said, unpausing the movie, “you’re still watching with me. And you’re explaining everything they get wrong.”
Manon didn’t react the way Megan or Sophia did. She didn’t bombard you with questions, didn’t spiral into curiosity out loud. She kept her composure, almost too well. But you could tell. The way her eyes followed you now, sharper, more intentional. The way her smile lingered whenever you did something even remotely inhuman.
She never said much… except when she caught you feeding. You expected shock. Maybe discomfort.
Instead, she leaned against the counter, arms crossed, trying to look casual, and failing completely. Her excitement buzzed under her skin, barely contained, eyes bright as she watched you drink from your blood packet like it was the most fascinating thing she’d ever seen.
“That’s… actually really cool,” she murmured, voice steady despite the grin threatening to break through.
Like Sophia, she adjusted without making it obvious. A spare blood packet tucked into the mini fridge in the dorm. Quietly checking expiration dates. Handing it to you without a word when she noticed you getting irritable or distant. She was the one who noticed the details.
The way you hesitated with warmer blood. How you relaxed when it was chilled. How your shoulders dropped, how your eyes softened.
“So,” she said once, completely casual, passing you a colder packet straight from the fridge, “you like it better this way.”
It wasn’t a question. And somehow, the fact that she noticed, without needing you to explain, meant more than anything.
Daniela Avanzini
Back in Dream Academy, Daniela’s jealousy wasn’t subtle, it was intense. You didn’t come from a formal dance background like she did, yet you moved with impossible smoothness, like rhythm lived in your bones. It frustrated her. Pushed her harder. Made her sharper.
But when you were announced as the final member of KATSEYE, that feeling slowly dissolved.
Because the more Daniela watched you in rehearsals, the more she realized there was nothing to compete with. Watching you dance felt like being pulled under water, quiet, hypnotic, inescapable. And she didn’t want to escape. You put her in a trance, one she gladly stayed in.
The slip happened at a party.
You hadn’t wanted to go. Daniela and Lara had dragged you there anyway, the Latina and Tamil duo doing your makeup, dressing you up, insisting you had to show up. You didn’t have time to feed. No blood tablets. No backup.
Bad mistake.
Food was everywhere, and none of it was for you. Hunger twisted into irritation, irritation into something sharp and dangerous. The room felt too loud, too close. People kept bumping into you, anyone who did was lucky you had restraint.
Daniela noticed immediately. “Just stay with me,” she said, steady and grounding. “Don’t wander.”
You stayed close, until a drunk guy decided Daniela was his target. He hovered. Followed. Ignored her discomfort. And when he grabbed her waist—
You snapped.
You broke his hand with a sickening crack and hissed, eyes glowing yellow-red as he screamed and stumbled away. The music didn’t stop. No one really noticed.
Except Daniela. She stared at you, not scared. Not angry. Just… stunned. And knowing.
You didn’t explain. You didn’t have to.
Later, outside in the quiet, she finally spoke. “That was kinda hot,” she said plainly. “Also… being a vampire is cool as hell.”
You blinked at her. She shrugged, hands in her pockets, completely unfazed. “You protected me. That’s all I care about.”
From then on, Daniela didn’t make it a big deal. She just existed near you. Kept people off your back. Stood a little closer when you were hungry. Let you lean into her presence without comment.
Lara Raj
Lara knew from the moment she met you in Dream Academy.
She’d caught you once, late, quiet, feeding from an animal you’d dragged far from the cameras. You never noticed her. She never said a word. But from that moment on, she was drawn to you in a way she couldn’t explain.
She loved your voice, low, smooth, almost sinful. Loved your expressions, the way you carried yourself, the way your dancing felt too sensual for a survival show. When the two of you were singled out and told to tone down the sexual energy, Lara didn’t feel embarrassed.
She felt intrigued. That intrigue only deepened when you debuted together.
When choreography for “Gabriela” paired you with her, Lara didn’t hesitate. She pulled you closer than necessary, so close your chests brushed. You noticed no one else was dancing like that, but Lara’s gaze dared you to question it.
Later, she asked you to be her partner for “Homegirls.” An unreleased song. A yearning song. About a girl she couldn’t stop wanting. She told you plainly, “Your energy fits it.”
During rehearsals, Lara touched you often, hands at your waist, fingers adjusting your shoulders, lingering just a second too long. She flirted shamelessly, enjoying the way you stiffened, the way your breath hitched. She made you nervous on purpose.
And she loved it.
When filming wrapped, when the room finally emptied and it was just the two of you, Lara shut the door behind her. “You don’t have to hide from me,” she said casually.
You turned. “Hide what?”
She stepped closer, eyes sharp but warm. “Your heartbeat doesn’t change. You don’t eat. You don’t get tired. And your eyes—” she smiled slightly, “—they do something funny when you’re hungry.”
Silence.
“I saw you back then,” Lara continued softly. “In Dream Academy.” Your shoulders dropped. No point denying it. “…You’re not scared?” you asked.
She shook her head. “Why would I be? It’s kind of hot, actually.” Then, more seriously, “You’re still you.” She reached out, brushing her thumb over your wrist, gentle, grounding. “I didn’t follow you because you’re a vampire,” Lara said. “I followed you because you pull me in.”
Once Lara realized you were finally comfortable around her, she got bolder. Her touches lingered longer, hands at your waist under the excuse of fixing posture, fingers brushing your wrist like it was accidental when it never was. She treated your reactions like a game, a quiet challenge between the two of you.
And you always lost.
No matter how old you were, how composed you tried to be, you were no match for Lara’s shameless flirtation. She thrived on the way your breath hitched, the way your eyes flicked away, the way your fangs threatened to show when she got too close. She folded you every time, smiling like she’d won something precious.
It became her favorite pastime.
“You know… you look way too tense. Relax, or I’ll relax you myself.”
“Don’t look away, weren’t you just staring at me?”
“Relax, I’m just touching you. Unless that’s a problem?”
“Your eyes do that thing when you’re nervous. It’s cute.”
“I thought vampires were supposed to be confident.”
“If I stand any closer, will you hiss at me… or melt?”
“One day you’ll flirt back. Today is clearly not that day.”
And every time you tried to recover, Lara just laughed, soft, pleased, already planning how she’d make you fold again.
NSFW
Sophia Laforteza
During late night rehearsals when the others had gone, she'd pull you into a shadowed corner, her fingers tracing the cool veins under your skin, whispering questions that led to more intimate explorations. Sophia exploited your vampire senses with a wicked delight, reveling in how every touch ignited you like fire.
She adored the control it gave her in private, the way she could unravel you completely, your body arching under her fingers as she slid them between your thighs, circling your clit with deliberate slowness until your heightened nerves screamed for release.
Or when she'd drop to her knees, her mouth hot and insistent against your pussy, tongue flicking over your folds while her hands pinned your hips, denying you the friction you craved until you begged, your voice a broken whimper.
She was deceptively soft about it, her touches starting as gentle caresses, brushing your hair back, kissing your neck where your pulse should beat but didn't.
Knowing your undead body was wired for overstimulation, she'd graze her nails along your inner thighs, watching your skin pebble with unnatural sensitivity, or blow cool air over your hardened nipples until you shuddered uncontrollably.
“Tell me what you need,” she'd murmur, her breath ghosting your ear, but she'd only give it after making you squirm, your fangs grazing your own lip in restr
One evening, after a long day of promotions, she led you to her room, the door clicking shut like a promise.
“You've been tense,” she said, her voice low and coaxing, as she pushed you onto the bed. Her hands roamed your body, stripping away your clothes with efficient pulls, exposing your pale skin to the dim light.
She straddled your waist, her warmth seeping into your cold flesh, and leaned down to capture your mouth in a kiss that started sweet but deepened into dominance, her tongue demanding entry while her fingers pinched your nipples, twisting just enough to send jolts straight to your core.
You gasped into her mouth, your body betraying you with how quickly it responded, your pussy already slick, aching for her.
Sophia smiled against your lips, sensing your arousal through the way your hips bucked involuntarily. “So sensitive,” she purred, trailing her hand lower, dipping two fingers into your wetness without warning.
She pumped them slowly at first, curling them to hit that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyes, your senses amplifying every thrust until it felt like she was fucking your very soul.
But she didn't let you come easily.
Pulling her fingers free, she brought them to your mouth, making you taste yourself, while she ground her own soaked panties against your thigh, using your cool skin for her pleasure.
“Lick,” she commanded softly, and you obeyed, your tongue swirling around her digits as she watched with hooded eyes.
Then, shifting down, she spread your legs wide, her mouth descending on your clit with a hunger that matched your own eternal thirst.
She sucked hard, her tongue lashing in relentless patterns, while one hand held you open and the other teased your entrance, slipping in and out just enough to edge you closer.
Your hands fisted the sheets, fangs extending as the pleasure built to an unbearable peak, every nerve ending alight with her torment.
“Sophia, please,” you moaned, your voice cracking like it had that night in the kitchen, but this time from ecstasy rather than fear.
She hummed against you, the vibration pushing you over, and finally let you shatter, your body convulsing as waves of orgasm ripped through you, stronger and longer than anyone could endure, leaving you trembling beneath her.
She crawled back up, kissing you deeply, letting you taste your release on her tongue. “Good girl,”she whispered, her hand stroking your hair like she was fixing it after all.
But even in the afterglow, her eyes gleamed with that controlling spark, she wasn't done exploring your vulnerabilities, and you knew she'd push you further next time.
Megan Skiendiel
She whimpered against your folds, her tongue lapping greedily at your clit as she sucked it between her lips, drawing out your moans. Her sounds were desperate, high-pitched pleas that echoed like she was the one buried under you.
Pussy drunk didn't even cover it, she devoured you with sloppy, fervent strokes, her mouth slick and insistent.
"More," she gasped, pulling back just enough to beg, her chin glistening. "Please, yank my hair, make it hurt so good." Her fingers dug into your thighs, urging you to grind harder against her face as waves of overstimulation made you squirm.
She pleaded for your bite over and over, her voice muffled against your skin. "Feed from me, just once, let me feel your fangs sink in." But you shook your head each time, resisting the pull of her pulse thumping so close.
Human blood tempted you too fiercely, once you pierced her vein, the hunger might consume you entirely. Animal blood kept things safer, controlled. Still, she persisted, eyes glazed with need.
When she finally strapped on the thick silicone cock and thrust it deep inside you, stretching your walls with slow, deliberate pumps, she angled her neck toward you.
"Bite me here," she whispered, voice breaking. "A little nip while you clench around me." Your control frayed at the edges. As she fucked into you harder, hips snapping with rhythm, your nails raked down her back, leaving red trails that made her arch and cry out in delight.
Your fangs brushed her shoulder in a teasing graze, not breaking skin but enough to send shivers through her body. She bucked wildly beneath you, the marks blooming like badges of your shared frenzy. The room in the back of the fan meeting venue felt too small, the distant roar of fans a hazy backdrop to your tangled breaths.
You'd snuck away after her endless questions turned into touches, her hand lingering on your arm, her body pressing close during a group photo.
Now, with the door locked and her strap buried to the hilt, every thrust pushed you closer to the edge you'd sworn to avoid.
"I won't," you murmured again, even as your lips hovered over her throat, inhaling the sweet rush of her blood singing just beneath the surface. But Megan was relentless, her free hand guiding your head down as she rolled her hips up, the toy hitting that spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyes.
"You will," she panted, nipping at your earlobe. "I trust you. Mark me properly this time, make me yours." Her words dissolved into a whine as you clenched around the intrusion, your body betraying your resolve. The overstimulation built in her too, her clit grinding against the harness with each plunge, her whines turning frantic.
Your fangs extended fully now, the sharp points dimpling her skin.
One more plea from her lips, and you gave in, just a graze, deeper this time, enough to draw a thin bead of blood. The taste exploded on your tongue, metallic and intoxicating, far richer than any deer in the woods.
She gasped, her pace faltering into erratic bucks, the sensation of your mouth on her overwhelming her senses.
You pulled back quickly, licking the wound closed with a swipe of your tongue, but the damage was done. Heat surged through you, your hips slamming down to meet hers as the feeding haze sharpened every nerve.
Megan's nails bit into your ass, pulling you tighter, her strap pounding relentlessly. "Yes… fuck, more," she sobbed, her body trembling from the intensity, her own climax crashing as your blood-scented kiss trailed to her collarbone.
The secret bound you closer now, her excitement from that fan meeting day evolving into this raw, pulsing connection.
She kept whispering questions between thrusts, "Does it always taste this good?" but you silenced her with your mouth, fangs nicking her lip as you rode her through the aftershocks.
Overstimulation left her twitching, begging for mercy even as she chased another round, your nails carving fresh lines across her hips.
In the quiet aftermath, tangled in sheets that smelled of sweat and desire, she traced the fading marks on her skin with a satisfied grin. "See? I can handle it."
Manon Bannerman
Manon reveled in plunging her fingers deep into your slick pussy, all while you rattled off the inaccuracies in Twilight's vampire lore, savoring how you'd play the brat, squirming and sassing until you shattered beneath her touch.
She snapped photos and recorded videos of her pounding into you with a strap on, stashing them away in a concealed folder on her phone, claiming it was just for “safe keeping.” The movie droned on in the background, Bella's wide eyed wonder flickering across the screen, but neither of you paid it much mind anymore.
Manon's hand had already slipped under your waistband, her fingers teasing the edge of your panties before pushing them aside. You arched against the bed, a half-hearted protest bubbling up as her fingertips circled your clit, slow and deliberate.
"They got the venom all wrong," you grumbled, trying to keep your voice steady even as heat pooled between your thighs. "It's not some romantic sparkle shit—" "Shh," Manon murmured, her breath hot against your ear, two fingers sliding inside you without warning.
Your words cut off in a gasp, walls clenching around the intrusion. She pumped them lazily, curling just right to hit that spot that made your toes curl. "Keep going. Tell me more."
You bit your lip, "Make me." But your hips bucked up anyway, chasing the rhythm she set, slick sounds filling the room over the movie's dialogue. Her free hand gripped your thigh, spreading you wider as she added a third finger, stretching you open. "Oh, I will," she promised, voice low and commanding.
Her thumb pressed firm circles on your clit, building the pressure until you were whimpering, all resistance crumbling.
She leaned in, capturing your mouth in a bruising kiss, swallowing your moans as she fucked you harder, relentless.
The phone in her pocket buzzed faintly, probably her setting it to record discreetly, angled just right to capture the way your pussy gripped her fingers, the flush creeping up your neck. You didn't notice, too lost in the haze, but she did, a secret thrill humming through her.
When you came, it hit like a wave, body shuddering as you clenched around her, crying out into her shoulder.
She didn't stop, drawing it out until you were numb, panting. Only then did she withdraw her hand, glistening with your arousal, and bring her fingers to your lips. "Taste yourself," she ordered softly, eyes gleaming with that composed hunger. You obeyed, sucking them clean, the faint metallic tang of your own excitement mixing with the ever present chill of your undead veins.
She smiled, pausing the movie entirely now. "Good girl. Now, about that venom... explain it properly this time. And maybe I'll let you return the favor."
Her hand trailed down her own body, unbuttoning her jeans suggestively, already plotting the next video for her hidden collection.
Daniela Avanzini
Daniela thrived on the sight of you riding her strap, your body slamming down hard and fast, slick pussy gripping the thick silicone shaft with every desperate bounce. She murmured filthy encouragements in Spanish, her voice low and commanding, while she reclined against the chair, fingers digging into your hips to guide your rhythm, utterly mesmerized as you fucked yourself on her toy over and over.
The room in the quiet dorm felt charged, the air thick with the scent of sweat and arousal. It had started innocently enough, or as innocent as things got between you two these days.
After that party incident, Daniela's admiration had deepened into something raw, unspoken, pulling you both into these stolen moments.
You'd been practicing late, your hypnotic moves leaving the mirrors fogged, when she cornered you against the wall.
“Come here,” she'd whispered, her breath hot against your neck, eyes dark with intent. And just like that, clothes hit the floor, your tight dance shorts yanked down, her sweatpants pull down just a bit to reveal the harness she'd slipped on earlier, like she knew exactly where this was headed.
Now, straddling her lap in that creaky chair, you ground down, the strap filling you completely, stretching your walls with each upward lift and plunge. Your fangs grazed your lip, the hunger mixing with the ache between your legs, making every sensation sharper.
Daniela's hands roamed, one sliding up your back to tangle in your hair, pulling your head back so she could watch your breasts bounce, nipples hard and begging for attention.
“Faster cariño ,' she growled in, her tone thick with lust. “Quiero verte romperte en mi polla.” Her free hand slipped between your thighs, thumb circling your clit in firm, teasing strokes, drawing out a moan that echoed off the walls.
She leaned back further, legs spread wide, owning the view as your ass slapped against her thighs, the wet sounds of your pussy devouring the strap filling the space.
You leaned forward, bracing your hands on her shoulders, nails digging into her skin as you rode harder, chasing the building pressure. Her eyes never left you, admiration turned to pure, possessive desire. “Eres tan jodidamente perfecta,” she breathed. Her words a sultry command, “Córrete para mí. Déjame sentir cómo te aprietas.”
The tension coiled tighter, your body trembling as her thumb pressed harder on your clit, her hips bucking up to meet your descent.
She held you steady, fingers bruising your hips, refusing to let you slow. In that moment, with her gaze locked on yours, all the past friction melted away, jealousy forgotten, replaced by this intimate trust, her strength matching your supernatural grace.
When you shattered, crying out her name, pussy spasming around the strap, Daniela pulled you down into a bruising kiss, swallowing your gasps.
She didn't stop there, flipping you onto the chair's arm, taking control to thrust deep and relentless, whispering praises as she chased her own release through the friction against her clit.
Afterward, spent and tangled, she traced your fangs with a gentle finger, no fear, just that quiet admiration shining in her eyes.
Lara Raj
If there was one thing Lara absolutely loved doing to you, it was overstimulation, especially with that pink vibrator she'd bought just for you. She adored shopping for new toys and using them on you until you were a trembling, begging mess.
Lara's teasing had always been a slow burn, but once she sensed you were ready to crack, she pushed further. It started innocently enough after another late-night rehearsal, the studio lights dimmed, the mirrors reflecting your flushed faces.
She'd corner you against the wall, her body pressing into yours, hips grinding just enough to make your undead pulse race.
“Tonight,” she'd whisper, her lips brushing your ear, “I'm going to make you feel everything.” Her hand would slip into her bag, pulling out that sleek pink vibrator, its curved tip designed to hit just right.
You'd try to protest, your shyness flaring, but Lara's eyes would lock on yours, daring you to say no.
She'd guide you to the floor, the cool hardwood against your back as she stripped you slowly, savoring every inch of exposed skin. Her fingers traced your thighs, parting them with ease, while she switched on the toy, the low hum filling the quiet room.
“Look at you, already wet for me,” she'd murmur, pressing the vibrating head against your clit, circling it teasingly at first.
You'd gasp, your body arching despite yourself, fangs grazing your lower lip as pleasure sparked through you. Lara loved that, watching your composure shatter. She'd slide the vibrator lower, dipping it into your pussy, thrusting it in shallow strokes while her free hand pinned your wrist above your head.
“Not yet,” she'd say when your hips bucked, pulling it away just as the edge approached, leaving you whining and desperate.
But Lara didn't stop there. She'd ramp it up, fucking you deeper with the toy, the vibrations pulsing against your inner walls, her thumb now rubbing your clit in firm circles.
Your breaths came in ragged bursts, body trembling as the first orgasm ripped through you, your pussy clenching around the invading length. Cum slicked the toy as she kept going, not giving you a moment to recover.
“One's not enough,”she'd tease, her voice husky with her own arousal. She'd straddle your thigh, grinding her soaked panties against you while she worked the vibrator relentlessly, angling it to hit that sensitive spot inside.
Your cries echoed off the mirrors, legs shaking as overstimulation set in, every nerve alight, pleasure bordering on pain. You'd beg her to stop, to slow down, but Lara just smiled, leaning down to capture your lips in a fierce kiss, her tongue mimicking the toy's thrusts.
She'd bring you to the brink again and again, edging you until tears pricked your eyes, your body a live wire under her control. Finally, when she deemed you broken enough, she'd press the vibrator hard against your clit, her mouth latching onto your nipple, sucking and biting as the third orgasm crashed over you.
Your pussy spasmed wildly, juices flooding out, soaking her hand and the toy as you screamed her name.
Panting, spent, you'd collapse, but Lara wasn't done. She'd set the vibrator aside only to replace it with her fingers, curling them inside you, drawing out the aftershocks until you were sobbing from the intensity. “See? I told you I'd relax you,” she'd say with a wicked grin, finally pulling you into her arms, her body warm and grounding against your cooler skin.
From then on, every private moment became her playground. She'd surprise you in dressing rooms with a new strap hidden in her bag, or use that pink vibrator during quick breaks, muffling your moans with her hand. Lara thrived on your reactions, the way you'd flush, the shy glances turning to needy pleas.
And you? You couldn't get enough of her bold touch, her unyielding desire, even as it left you utterly wrecked.
❛ so hard walking out. got me stuck like crazy glue. ❜
manon has to leave for work again, leaving you all alone again. and what’s a better way to keep with her with you to stop her from leaving?
cw: g!p manon. p in v. cock warming. creampie. reader got a grippp. pet names. needy!reader. breeding. dirty talk.
❛ them lips won’t let me go.❜
“baby, you know i have work soon.”manon towered over you, while pulling her hard dick out of her boxers. “we got to make this quick, m’kay?” manon spoke as her tip reached your wet folds.
“mhm, just wanna feel you before work.” your bottom lip moved between your teeth, already grinding against manon’s tip, before she aligned herself, filling you up.
you both moaned in unison at the pleasure. manon fitting inside you perfectly, your wet cunt wrapped around her cock tight, holding manon tight where she needed to be.
“fuck, baby. so fucking tight around me.” manon spoke, pumping her cock in and out, holding a steady speed. “feel s’good.”
manon’s doe eyes stared down at you, her pink lips in a slight pout as the pleasurable tightness took over her body.
you and manon did quickies before work all the time, sometimes cutting super close, resulting in manon arriving late to work.
like now, you knew time was cutting close, but you weren’t ready for this to end yet. you kept holding onto manon, clenching yourself around her thick length.
“so good, baby, but i have work. come on let me go.” manon spoke softly, her hand grazing against your stomach softly.
you ignored her, of course, you being too focused on manon’s pulsating cock inside of you and not wanting to let that feeling go just yet.
manon whined at the hold, trying to fight against the tight grip, not give in. she has work. “come on, ma.” another whine left manon’s mouth. “i’m close to running late.” manon spoke, her hands moving to your hips, attempting to pull her swollen cock out from your pussy.
your eyes closed, you shaking your head no next. “i want you here with me. stay..” you wrapped your legs around manon’s waist, pulling her closer, her cock deepening inside you.
“stay with me, please.”
“baby girl, you know i can’t. i got you when i get back, just let me go, ma.” manon tried to persuade as her dick twitched inside, close to release.
“no, not yet.” you insisted, loving the feeling of manon’s cock being nestled deep inside of you. “i want you here with me. inside me.”
manon moaned at the words, the desperation and need seeping from your voice, the quickest way to get her to fold.
“come inside me, manz. let me get it please.”
arriving to work on time was now out the window. manon nodded her head, lowering herself to meet your neck, leaving sloppy kisses on your hot skin, before shooting her cum into you with a low groan.
