Vampire bf that lost his previous lover to the plague, so when you come down with the common cold he’s genuinely upset.
And he just starts writing you a will, teary eyed as he longingly gazes at your crumpled form as you flick through TV channels and cough before wiping your nose on his shirt.
Usually he’d gag or whine about you being unhygienic, but now he’s considering keeping this shirt unwashed forever. It’s a memento to you, after all.
If he told you the memento he’d be keeping of you was the sullied tshirt you blew your nose in, you’d probably be offended. Well, you did blow your nose on your boyfriend, but he was being annoying and wouldn’t hand you a tissue!!
He’s just so in love with you, and will start bawling and begging you not to die before you have to explain that your cold will be gone within a few days.
Dating an ancient vampire that thinks the dabbles of debauchery he engages in are feral and the depths of depravity, only to find out the world of pleasure had changed after dating you.
Going from foaming at the mouth when seeing you in sheer stockings, to whimpering as his fangs are digging into the specially designed ball gag you have in his mouth, all while holding a wand style vibrator against the underside of the tip of his cock, smiling at him as he begins to cry from the overstimulation.
Letting him try every legal kink and fetish he comes across, and making this once barely past vanilla vampire into a simpering mess of need and open minded ideas.
Summary: Denied the chance to have a child of their own, Vlad Dracula and his wife build a family anyway.
The night is calm, the kind of calm that only exists when the world belongs to creatures like you.
You walk beside Vlad through the forest path below the castle, your hand resting in his, fingers laced together out of habit rather than need.
The moon hangs low and pale, shining across his dark coat, across the ring you wear that binds you to him beyond time, beyond death.
You have been married longer than most kingdoms have stood.
And still, there are rooms in the castle you do not enter.
You do not speak of them. Vlad never does.
But sometimes, when the wind carries distant laughter from the village below, you feel his grip tighten ever so slightly.
Just enough for you to notice. Just enough for you to understand.
You were turned too early. Both of you. Before the future could unfold the way mortals expect it to.
Before children.
The thought comes suddenly.
You swallow it down as you always do, lifting your gaze to the stars instead. Vlad follows your eyes, as if he knows where your thoughts have gone, though neither of you says a word. There is no need to.
Silence has long been your shared language.
It is when you are about to turn back that you hear it.
A sound so small you almost don't hear it.
You stop.
Vlad stops instantly, body tensing, senses sharpening, his gaze scanning the darkness with instinct honed by centuries.
“What is it, My Love?” he asks quietly.
You listen again.
There. A thin, broken sound. Not a scream. Not a cry for help. Something softer. Fragile.
A baby.
Your breath catches. Vlad hears it now.
You follow the sound together, deeper into the trees, until you find her.
She lies wrapped in a worn blanket at the base of an old oak, cheeks flushed from cold, tiny fists clenched as she cries into the dark.
Human. Warm. So very alive.
For a moment, neither of you moves.
You know what Vlad is thinking because it mirrors your own.
The danger. The impossibility. The weight of what this would mean.
Immortal hands are not meant for mortal infants.
You kneel before he can stop you.
The baby quiets almost immediately when you move closer, her cries turning into soft hiccups as she looks up at you with unfocused eyes.
She reaches out blindly, fingers brushing your sleeve.
Your heart does something painful and wonderful all at once.
“She will die here,” you whisper.
Vlad’s jaw tightens.
“We cannot take her. We are not… built for this.”
You look up at him.
“But we are careful. And we love.”
The baby lets out a small sound, something almost like a sigh, and curls her fingers around yours.
That is what breaks him.
Vlad kneels beside you, moving slowly, as if afraid even the air might harm her.
He studies her face.
“She trusts us,” he murmurs.
“She has no one else,” you reply.
Finally, Vlad nods. One decisive movement.
“Then she will have us. No harm will come to her. I swear it.”
He lifts her with a gentleness that would shock anyone who knows his name. Cradles her against his chest as if she were something sacred.
As if she is his.
You walk back to the castle together, the world utterly changed.
But as you glance at Vlad and see the way he keeps his body turned to shield her from the night, you realise something else too.
Eternity no longer feels empty.
It feels full of breath, and warmth, and a future you never thought you would touch.
The castle has never known a heartbeat like this.
It echoes through the stone corridors, faint but steady, a rhythm that does not belong to eternity.
You move through the halls with purpose, the baby bundled carefully against your chest, her warmth seeping into you in a way that feels almost shocking.
Vlad watches you constantly.
Not with suspicion. With awe.
Every room feels altered by her presence.
Candles are kept burning longer.
Vlad barely stops, though you suspect he does not even realise it.
At first, he does not touch her unless you place her in his arms yourself. When you do, his movements are painfully precise, as though she might shatter if he breathes too deeply.
He sits rigid in the chair beside the fire, eyes never leaving her face, listening to every sound she makes with the focus of a man standing guard over a kingdom.
“She is warm,” he mutters once, amazed.
You smile gently.
“She is alive.”
He nods, as if that truth alone is overwhelming.
Feeding her terrifies him.
He insists on watching every time, memorising the way you hold her, the angle of her head, the way her tiny fingers curl around the fabric of your dress. It amazes him that you know what you need to do, what she needs. Your instincts are fascinating.
When she cries, his shoulders tense instantly, fear flickering behind his eyes.
“What does she need?” he asks, voice low and urgent.
“Sometimes, she only needs to be held.”
It takes time before he believes you.
Nights are the hardest. Thankfully, you do not need sleep.
She wakes often, unsettled by the unfamiliar dark, and each time Vlad rises with you without complaint.
He walks the length of the chamber with her pressed to his chest, murmuring nonsense words in a voice so tender it makes your throat ache.
You begin to leave them alone together.
Because you trust him.
One evening, you return earlier than expected, the door to the sitting room is left slightly ajar. You pause when you hear his voice.
“…and this little bat,” Vlad is saying quietly, “likes to sleep upside down, but only when he is very little.”
You peer inside.
He sits on the rug, legs folded awkwardly, the baby balanced securely against his arm. In his other hand is a small book. A ridiculous thing, bound in soft fabric, its pages thick and meant for clumsy hands. A baby vampire flap book, ordered by Vlad from a villager who made books.
He lifts one of the flaps carefully.
“See,” he continues, voice warm, “tiny fangs. Not sharp yet. That comes later.”
The baby gurgles.
He smiles.
It is not the sharp, knowing smile of a ruler or a predator. It is the smile of a father. Proud. Loved.
You step into the room without speaking. Vlad looks up, caught, eyes widening slightly.
“I was only explaining,” he says, clearing his throat. “It seemed important.”
“It is,” you reply softly.
He looks back at the child, then says it without thinking.
“Our daughter likes the pictures.”
The words hang in the air.
He freezes.
You feel something move inside your chest, something deep and ancient, finally easing its grip. You cross the room and sit beside him, resting your head briefly against his shoulder.
“She does, and she likes you.”
As if in answer, the baby reaches up, grasping one of his fingers with surprising strength.
Vlad exhales, something like a laugh and something like a sob all at once. He lowers his forehead to hers, eyes closing.
“I will never harm her. Not with teeth, nor claw, nor word.”
You place your hand over his.
“I know.”
Time does not pass for you the way it does for mortals.
But it passes for her.
She grows in subtle increments that steal your breath when you notice them. Fingers that once curled weakly now grasp with purpose.
A laugh that startles you both the first time it rings through the hall. Tiny feet that patter across ancient stone as if they have always belonged there.
The castle has never been so alive.
Vlad pretends he is not anxious. He keeps watch from the shadows as she toddles across the sitting room floor, arms lifted for balance, soft hair catching candlelight. Every stumble makes him tense. Every sharp edge in the room has already been dulled or removed by him.
“She is not made of glass,” you tell him gently.
He kneels beside her as she steadies herself against his leg.
“No. But the world is.”
It is the first time he has spoken the fear aloud.
You see it now, clearer than ever. Not fear of hunger. Not fear of discovery.
Fear of failing her.
One afternoon, as dusk settles in its slow, lavender hush, she grows frightened by a distant storm. Thunder rolls through the mountains, unfamiliar and loud. She begins to cry, small hands reaching out blindly.
You are closer.
But she turns to Vlad.
Her little arms stretch towards him, face crumpling as she calls out in a broken sound that is not quite a word, but means him all the same.
Vlad freezes.
Then he gathers her up, pulling her against his chest with a certainty that surprises even him.
He presses his palm to the back of her head, shielding her instinctively, murmuring comfort in a low, steady voice.
She quiets almost instantly.
That night, after she is asleep between you, breath warm and even, Vlad does not move for a long while.
He studies her face as if committing every detail to memory, as if afraid time might steal her away.
“I was not meant for this. Not for innocence. Not for trust.”
You lace your fingers with his.
“You were meant for love. That is enough.”
He looks at you then, something fierce and devoted burning in his eyes.
“I will protect her. From the world. From myself. From anything that would dare to take her from us.”
“I know,” you reply.
Outside, fog fills the garden.
Inside, eternity feels different now. Softer.
She stirs, half asleep, and curls closer to him, fingers fisting in his shirt. Vlad smiles down at her.
You move closer, placing your hand on her back as she sleeps on Vlad's chest. Your family.
Vlad offers you a smile, and you move over to kiss him.
And for the first time in centuries, eternity feels full.
~Masterlist~
A/N: This was requested by one of you! I hope you enjoyed it, I sure had a lot of fun writing it!
Your Vampire bf and your Elf bf love to be dominated by you. They have both lived very long lives and yet they swear they’ve only now found their true calling with you. To be your good boys.
They adore you playing with them. Sitting bare in front of the mirror while you, fully clothed, brush back their elegant hair before tying it in a long perfect braid. Knowing it’ll need to be out of the way as you make a mess of them.
Both boys are thankful for it later when your elf bf is pounding into you, whimpering from the force of trying to hold back his orgasm. Waiting for your word to allow him to cum inside you. His baby hairs stuck to his damp forehead as his braid sways with the power of his movements. Meanwhile, your vampire bf’s face is buried in the elfs’s ass, thankful his hair is out of the way for this.
Or when you position them to your own desire like the pretty dolls they are. As if you somehow know exactly what they need to make them cum like they’ve never experienced before.
Both boys go downright primitive as the tension and arousal builds within them, waiting for you to instruct their next move. Their predatory tendencies shining through as you make them wait. Yet their desire to be good for you has them resisting the urge to stand you up and fill your every hole.
Their waiting isn’t in vain as moments later your vampire bf finds himself balls and fangs deep inside you, whining like a mess, and that’s even before you direct him to arch his back all beautiful for you. With him in position you order elf bf to slowly work his cock inside his ass. Vampire bf is forced to remain still as his lovers use his body for all their pleasure. When he finally comes he fears it may never stop as he just keeps releasing spurt and spurt of his semen into your pussy, proving just how much he craves your dominance.
Over time they’ve come to listen to you without hesitation. Of course, you had to train them to be such good boys, but the outcome has proven to be more than worth it.
my babies I have pathetic vamp smut for you. whiney little pathetic vamp smut (๑˙❥˙๑)
He’s been hovering all evening, fingers twitching at his sides, fangs worrying his lower lip raw. You pretend not to notice, flipping through a book, but then he drops to his knees beside you with a whimper, forehead pressing against your thigh.
"Baby, please. Just a taste, j-just enough to wet my tongue, I swear I’ll be good." His voice is all ragged honey, shaky palms sliding up your bare calves.
You arch a brow, turning a page pointedly. "Mm. Last time you said that, you got… distracted."
He groans, nuzzling into the crease of your knee. "I won’t, I won’t, I just, fuck, the way your pulse jumps when you sigh, when you look at me like that-" A shudder rolls through him, fangs glinting as he licks his lips. "Can’t even think straight. Smell you everywhere. Please."
You sigh, exasperated, and finally snap the book shut. "Fine but if you-"
He’s on you before the last syllable leaves your mouth.
Mouth on your thigh, teeth grazing but not biting, tongue tracing up to the edge of your shorts with a whine. He shivers, nose brushing your skin like he can breathe you in like a drug. "God you smell so good, taste so good-" He babbles, kissing the soft swell of your hip.
"Easy, Jesus!" you try to warn, fingers coming up to his hair. He moans, arching into your palm, mouth sliding towards the juncture of your thigh.
It's his favorite place, and he's trembly as he tugs your shorts aside, tongue laving over the flesh. "Fuck," he mutters into your skin. "Love being able to smell your pretty cunt while I feed."
He's already delirious as he finally bites down, the groan falling from his throat pure filth when your taste hits his tongue. A nearly pained moan catches in his throat, drinking you in deep, like he'd drown himself in you if he could. Every swallow has him pressing closer, tongue running over you-over the wound-lost entirely to the scent and the feel of you.
You hiss as his fangs draw deeper, fingers tangling in his hair. "Easy," you warn again. "You said a little bite. You said-"
The bastard has the audacity to whine, clutching you tighter with one hand while the other snakes under your underwear.
He makes a broken sound against your skin, his grip tightening as his mouth seals over the twin punctures. Each pull of his lips is worship, raw and desperate, the heat of his tongue circling to soothe the sting. You can feel the way he trembles-not just from hunger, but from the slick, sinful glide of his fingers beneath the lace hem of your panties.
"Liar," you gasp, arching as his touch finds your clit, already swollen from his attention. He groans, the vibration thrumming through your veins.
"Just-fuck-just one more minute," he slurs against your thigh, fingers working you in slow, filthy circles. "Wanna feel you come while I drink. Wanna taste it." His voice is wrecked, pupils blown black with want. "Please, baby, please let me-" He draws back slightly, panting, lips shiny with your blood, eyes gleaming wild with need. "Need it," he growls against your skin, teeth catching. "You taste so perfect. Can I, please? I'll do anything. Please, I'll be good" He laves over the spot he was biting, pressing his cheek against your thigh, whimpering.
"You taste like I'm starving. You have no idea."
His breath hitches as you tangle your fingers deeper in his hair, not pulling him away, just holding. He shudders, lashes fluttering, lips parting on a silent gasp when your nails scrape his scalp. His hips jerk against nothing, the rough fabric of his pants doing nothing to hide how hard he is just from this, from you.
"Mmph-fuck, fuck, please-" His voice cracks, forehead pressing into your thigh again as his fingers dig into your hips. "Tell me, tell me what you want, I’ll-nngh-I’ll do it, just let me-" Another wet, open-mouthed kiss presses over your pulse. "Let me have you. Let me ruin you. Let me-"
His tongue drags up the inside of your thigh, slow, like he’s savoring the threat of your denial. The flat of his teeth graze-not biting, just teasing-just hurting himself with how badly he wants to.
"Or-or push me away. Do it. Curse me, shove me, laugh at me." He heaves a broken chuckle, nose nudging your clothed heat. "I’ll still beg."
The moment your fingers twist tighter in his hair, his entire body seizes, a sharp, punched-out gasp escaping him as his forehead drops heavily against your thigh. His breaths fall in ragged, broken pants, lips hovering just above your skin, trembling with the effort not to dive back in.
"Fuck," His voice is wrecked, syllables slurring into a whine as your nails scrape his scalp. "Y’re killin’ me, sweetheart. Killin’ me."
His tongue darts out to catch a stray bead of blood at the corner of his mouth, eyes fluttering shut at the taste. When he speaks again, it’s muffled against your leg. "Could stay like this forever. On my knees. Your fucking-" A shudder wracks through him. "Your fucking bitch."
He tilts his head up just enough to fix you with glassy, half-lidded eyes, lashes sticking together with the wetness gathering there. "Tell me," he whispers, raw. "Tell me to stop. Please. Or-or don’t."
His hips jerk helplessly against empty air, the rough drag of denim against his cock pulling another ragged noise from his throat. "Just, god, just use me. However you want. Please."
You tug again, coaxing his head up, and his gaze flicks up to you. His expression is a wreck, lips parted, cheeks flushed, eyes so black with need that you almost gasp. "Poor baby," you croon teasingly. "You look so desperate. Are you that hungry?"
He shivers, his tongue running over his fangs. "Yes," he whispers, voice low and ragged. "Starving. Please."
He's barely making sense now, lips brushing hot and worshipful over the wound on your thigh.
He whimpers, licking up the last of the blood and pressing closer, nuzzling his nose into the crease of your hip. His lips run over your flesh, his breath hot against you, and he's so lost that when he speaks, it's nothing but a ragged moan. "More, please, I'm-I need more, I need you… "
He's trembling, the fingers at your hip clenching like he's hanging on to the last of his control. "Please," he whispers again, lips trailing up your stomach now. "Let me fuck you."
Your laughter is soft and indulgent, the way one might humor a particularly persistent stray. "God, you’re pathetic like this," you murmur, tilting his chin up. His pupils swallow any trace of color, lips slick and parted around uneven breaths.
You pause, the time stretching. Just long enough to watch his throat bob.
Then-
"Fine."
The word cracks him open. He surges up before you can blink, hands scrambling at your waistband, fangs catching his own bottom lip in his haste. "Fuck, fuck. Thank you, thank you-" His voice splinters as he yanks your shorts down your thighs, mouth already trailing wet, open kisses along the newly bared skin. "Gonna make you feel so good, swear, swear-"
The couch creaks under his weight as he drags you beneath him, hips rolling in a slow, grinding rhythm against yours before he’s even got his own pants off. Every inch of him trembles with the sheer, dizzying relief of being allowed.
"Absolutely useless when you're like this, aren't you?" His hips jerk when you tug at his jeans, finally freeing his cock. "Made a mess in your own pants," you chide. "Pathetic little thing."
He freezes, breath stuttering, then melts into your touch like wax under a flame, cheeks flushing darker. "Y-yeah," he admits, voice thready, hips giving another aborted roll against nothing. His cock twitches against your thigh, already leaking, ruined just from the taste of you, the promise of more.
His hands fumble as he presses them to your chest, fingers splaying over your heartbeat like he’s trying to memorize its rhythm. "M’sorry," he murmurs, not sounding sorry at all, lips brushing your collarbone. "You own me. Can’t, fuck, can’t even think when you’re this close."
A whine builds in his throat as he noses along your jaw, breath coming in shallow puffs. "Wanna make you feel good," he slurs, tongue darting out to lick a stripe up your neck. "Wanna be good for you. Let me?"
His teeth graze your pulse, asking, always asking, even now. Even when he’s this far gone.
You laugh again, the sound warm and demeaning, fingers twisting tighter in his hair. "Good? You can't even keep your hips still, you're so far gone."
"Not gonna even try to argue," he mumbles. "Yours. I'm yours. All yours. Just… please-"
His voice dissolves into a ragged moan as you yank his head back by the hair, exposing the arch of his throat-his pulse fluttering wildly beneath pale skin. The sight makes your own breath catch. How easily this creature unravels for you, all fangs and feverish hunger, reduced to this.
"Look at you," you coo, thumb brushing the seam of his parted lips. "My greedy little leech. Can’t even form words properly when you’re like this, can you?"
A shudder wracks through him, hips jerking forward instinctively, chasing friction, chasing you. His fingers dig into the couch cushions, knuckles white with restraint. "Nngh, you know I can’t." His words fracture as you tug again, his eyelids fluttering.
"Go on then. Fuck me."
His breath hitches like you’ve struck him. Then his hands are on you, everywhere, mapping the dip of your waist, the curve of your hip, as if he’s starving for the shape of you more than the blood beneath your skin.
"Yes, yes-" The words are a prayer, raw and shattered, as he surges forward, slotting himself between your thighs with a desperation that borders on painful. His cock drags against you, slick and hot, and he chokes on the sensation, forehead dropping to your shoulder. "Fuck, you feel-"
You don’t let him finish.
A twist of your fingers in his hair, a roll of your hips and he’s gone. His thrusts are uneven, frantic, his mouth latching onto your neck not to bite, but to muffle the broken noises you wrench from him. Every snap of his hips is a supplication, every gasp a confession.
Yours.
Yours.
Yours.
And when his fangs finally sink in-deep, perfect-it’s with your name on his lips, a hymn wrapped in a whimper.
"More," you demand.
The moment your command leaves your lips, his restraint shatters. A ragged groan tears from his throat as he drives into you harder, deeper, each thrust punctuated by the wet, filthy drag of his cock, the hungry pull of his mouth at your throat. His fingers dig into the cushions beside your head, trembling with the effort not to grab, not to claim too roughly.
"God, you take me so good," he slurs against your skin, tongue lapping at the blood welling from his bite. "So perfect, so-nngh-tight, warm," His words dissolve into a whine as you clench around him, his hips stuttering.
You can feel him losing it, the way his rhythm fractures, the way his breath comes in broken gasps, the way his fangs scrape your skin when he moans. He’s close, teetering on the edge, and yet-
"Wanna make you come first," he grits out, sweat-slick brow furrowed in concentration. "Please, l-lemme feel you fall apart on me."
His hand slips between you, thumb circling your clit with desperate, reverent pressure. "Like this, yeah? Just like this-"
And when you break, arching with a cry, he follows with a sob of your name, burying his face in your neck as he spills inside you, shaking apart like a man undone.
For a long moment, there’s only the sound of your ragged breaths, the sticky heat between your thighs, the way his fingers still twitch against your hip, possessive even in exhaustion.
Then, softly, against your pulse…
"...Can I have another sip?"
His cheek is still smushed against your chest, lips lazily tracing the curve of your breast as he catches his breath-when his damn fangs click against your skin again. "…Just a tiny one?" he mumbles, all drowsy sin and zero shame.
You flick his ear. "You literally just had a whole meal."
"Mmm. ‘s why it’d be dessert," he argues, nuzzling into the hollow of your throat with a contented hum. His fingers trail down your side, sticky with sweat, sketching idle patterns like he’s memorizing you. "C’mon. You know I get greedy when you ruin me like that."
A pause. Then, with the solemn gravity of a man who absolutely will die without it:
"…I’ll do the dishes for a week."
You huff a laugh, flicking his ear again. "You and I both know you won't."
He gasps dramatically, clutching his chest like you've wounded him. "Betrayal," he whispers, eyes wide with faux horror-before collapsing onto you in a deadweight puddle of vampire theatrics, nose presing into your collarbone. "Fine. But I will dramatically starve to death on this couch now, just so you know. My last words will be... 'I told her I needed a snack...'"
The famous silver jeep of the Cullen’s pulled up as she watched Emmett be thrown into the dirt.
The entire family turned as Edward and Bella stepped out of the car.
As they walk to the family, so do the wolves.
Each vampire held to their mate as they watched said wolves come out from the tree line. Soft growls came from their snouts from the obvious smell of vampires.
Jasper held on to her as they did so, his arms around her waist, his chest providing support against her back.
Edward stepped to Carlisle, “They don’t trust us enough to be in their human forms.”
Carlisle nodded, “At least they came. That’s enough. Will you translate?”
Carlisle stepped towards the wolves, thanking them for coming before explaining that Jasper would be the teacher in this scenario.
Jasper’s loving mate smiled. She loved sparring as a family.
…
Some time passes and the girl now sits on the hood of the jeep next to Bella. She leans over, “I’ve always found this entertaining. Watching them, I mean…”
Bella smiled as Emmett flew threw the air once again. “I did have a question, if you don’t mind me asking…?”
The girl nods, anticipating what the human could possibly think of to ask.
“Jasper knows a lot about this kind of thing… I mean… Why is that exactly..?”
His mate shifts slightly, not expecting that question. “Well, Bella. I don’t feel that I’m the one that should tell you. Perhaps you should ask him. It’s… a horrid story, honestly. I’m not sure he’d want it out there, you know?”
Bella nods, “yeah, right. I get it… sorry.”
The girl’s head perks up at the sound of her name being called by Carlisle. “Oh, shit. My turn to go. Watch me, Bells?”
Bella grins, “Of course.”
…
Jasper stood confidently on the dirt ground, his eyes trained on the person in front of him.
His pretty mate.
She held the same look in her eyes.
They had sparred many times before. And they were both quite good. He taught her practically everything he knows.
The entire family gathered around to see how it would play out. Would they go easy on each other? Who would win?
It seemed the two held that look in their eyes as well as they tried to scope the other one’s thoughts.
Then he rushed her.
They were both incredible to watch as if they were dancing. Their bodies seemed to always know what the other would do, even when changing their fighting style. It seemed the two lovers truly knew each other in and out.
Eventually she slipped, and Jasper seized his opportunity, grabbing her wrist and pulling her to him.
Pulled against his body, her face was mere inches from him. The tension between the two rose as his gaze fell to her lips. God, he couldn’t resist her even when he was pretending to be her enemy.
And she was no better.
She focused on the feeling of his strong grip, his sturdy fingers wrapped around her seemingly delicate wrist.
If they were alone, this sparring match would have escalated, like it usually does when they are so. But today, they simply stared at each other. Those who didn’t know them would assume they were calculating what the other might do next, but no. This family knew them quite well. And thank god no one else had Jasper’s gift, or the tension would bring a blush to their cheeks.
She gently leaned forward, their lips brushing. Jasper tilted his head down to receive her soft lips. But they never came.
She swept his leg out from under him, pinning him to the ground as she placed a knee on his chest.
She leaned down to his face, whispering softly in his ear, “What was that you said? Don’t get distracted?”
He smiled, letting his head fall back against the dirt.
She would be the death of him.
And he would love it.
…
The sparring continued the next day as she found herself sitting next to Bella on the hood of the car again.
She watched Jasper as he sparred with an admiring look in her eye. She loved the Major with all her heart.
Or, what was left of it anyway.
If it still pumped blood, she would be able to feel it beat for him.
“Do you mind if I ask you another question? A different one, this time?”
The girl nods, “Yeah, don’t see why not.”
Bella looks down at the dirt. “Can I ask what happened to you? How you… how you got here?”
She felt a breath come out of her unused lungs, “Oh. Yeah. ‘Course. It’s… not a pleasant story but any means… are you sure?”
The human nods, “Please. I’m trying to understand you guys better.”
The girl leans back slightly, regaining her bearings. “Alright. Well… I was born in 1941. I uh, grew up in the 50s. Not the best timing, obviously. Do you know much about the ’50’s, Bella?”
The human’s head tilts back and forth in thought, “A little. Civil rights and stuff..?”
“Yeah. Well, the Korean War was in the 50’s. There was this military guy that fell in love with me. And I to him. But… we, uh… how do I say this? He was… we were…?”
Bella leans forward, “…what? Just say it.”
“Well, we were different skin tones. And.. well, I don’t need to say much more. Anyway, there was this other man that decided he liked me. He was pigheaded and awful. I hated him. He tormented me everyday. I finally told him about the man that-“
“-what was his name?”
The girl’s head perked up, “Whose?”
Bella met her eyes, “…the one you loved.”
A deep sigh left the vampire’s lips, “…Johnathan.”
Bella nodded, leaning back again to let the girl continue her story.
“I told the man about… Johnathan and… the man began to tell everyone in town. It became the only thing anyone talked about until eventually…. Eventually...,” the girl’s voice faded out in thought. “…I’m sorry. I haven’t told this story in so long…”
“It’s alright. Take your time.”
“Thank you… uh… the man formed a mob and approached us in the park one day. Johnathan tried to protect me. And he did. Until they… killed him…” the girl stared at the ground, a somber look in her eyes. “…and the man ended up being a vampire… he changed me and… well… yeah.”
Bella nodded, “How did you find Carlisle?”
“Oh. Right. Uh, I was on the run… after I changed. I actually ran into him. Well, he ran into me. He…. He stood to where I would crash into him, so he could talk to me. He knew everything. He took me in. And I met Jasper…”
Her eyes wandered back to Jasper. His sleeves were pulled up, exposing the skin of his forearms, and the scars that resided there. He was so strong. So perfect. Her knight in shining armor.
Bella noticed the girl’s longing gaze and smiled to herself. “…how did you know he was the one?”
The girl turned back to Bella, “Oh. You just know, Bella. It’s… ugh, it’s this feeling you get in your heart. Like you’ve finally taken a breath after being underwater for years. Like your souls have intertwined and have become one. It’s… strange to put into words…”
Bella nods, “It sounds wonderful.”
She nods too, “Oh, it is. Edward feels that way about you.”
Bella looks up in surprise, “Really?”
She smiles, “Yeah. He told me that the day he met you. Like he couldn’t think around you. You… occupy all of his thoughts. You fascinate him.”
The human grins, “And that’s how Jasper feels?”
“-How I feel about what?”
Jasper had walked up to the two, a grin on his face. He leaned against the car on his side, his arm resting over his girl’s leg.
His mate smiled, “Perhaps it’s none of your business… girl things…”
Jasper scoffed, “Sure, darlin’. Anything you say.”
Her hand reached up to run it through his hair.
The three sat in silence for a while before the girl broke it. “I need to go back to the house. Help me down, Jas?”
He stood, reaching his arms out, gripping her waist to help her down. She was vampire. She didn’t need help. And they both knew that.
Bella scooted forward, “Wait, before you go…?”
The girl turned around in Jasper’s arms. “…Yeah?”
“What happened to him? …To the guy that…”
The girl’s lips pulled up into a smirk. Her head turned slightly to look at Jasper’s face that held the same knowing smirk of his own. “Well, Bella. He… got what he deserved…”
And with that, she walked away.
Bella gawked slightly, now focusing on Jasper, hoping he could illuminate on the situation.
But he continued to grin, watching his girl walk away.
Eventually, Jasper felt Bella’s confused emotion and turned to her.
“I made a vow not to kill after I met her…”
Bella’s eyebrows knitted together, and Jasper’s smirk grew into a grin.
“…But I fucking killed him.”
And with that, silence overtook the forest as he continued to watch his girl walk away.
Sylus was a vampire. You, a human; an offering by the vampires who’d captured you, hoping to win his grace.
They had forced you into a fancy gown, done your hair and makeup, presenting you like a doll. It was either this or death. But given Sylus’s vicious reputation, you knew you were living on borrowed time. You had thought about running away after they presented you to him, but no. You’d heard what he did to cowards, to people who ran from him. He’d shred you to pieces.
Stabbing him? You had no wooden stake, and the method wasn’t even confirmed. And if you missed? Shredded to pieces. Begging and pleading? That’s a sign of weakness, something he disliked. And the result? Killed and discarded without a second thought. Making him an offer? Well, that was something he was open to…when he was in a good mood. But even then, what could you offer the vampire king who had it all? You had nothing. A simple human girl who’d been unlucky to get captured at the wrong time.
You wondered what it would feel like, to have his fangs pierce your skin, how painful it would be. How long it would take for him to drain you, when you’d lose consciousness. At this point, you just hoped for a quick merciful death.
You didn’t dare look up when your captors dragged you in during one of Sylus’s balls. The other vampires cleared a path, eyeing you hungrily, but knowing you were an offering for their king, they restrained themselves.
Oh God, what if he rejected you and threw you to them? They’d tear you apart piece by piece, and you’d probably be conscious to feel all of it. Suddenly, being devoured by their king felt more merciful.
They forced you to kneel as they presented you. An animal for slaughter. Prey to be feasted upon.
Sylus didn’t even acknowledge you, or your captors. He remained seated on his throne, still engaged in conversation with what seemed like his two most trusted advisors. Friends? Subordinates? You didn’t care. You just needed him to look at you long enough to accept the offering.
One of your captors cleared his throat. “Your Majesty?”
Sylus slowly turned his head to glance at the nuisance who dared disturb him.
“We bring you an offering, Your Highness,” the vampire said, voice trembling. “A pure human girl who hasn’t been marked by another vampire.”
Sylus finally glanced your way before descending the stairs with unhurried grace.
Your captor’s spine went rigid.
“And the purpose of this offering is…?” Sylus gestured lazily in your direction.
“Y–your pleasure, my King,” the vampire stammered.
Ah, no confidence. A sign of weakness. You thought to yourself.
“I see. And you thought bringing me a trembling, delicate human girl would please me?”
Shit. He thought you were delicate. Weak. That meant death. Well, at least Sylus killing you would be better than his subjects.
“I–uh–we thought—”
“You thought she’d please me,” Sylus cut in, unimpressed. “That if I’m in a good mood, I’d reward you. You thought you could bribe me? Buy my favor with a mere human girl? Put a price on my grace… and that price was this girl?” He scoffed. “I am offended.”
“Y–yo–your Grace, please—”
Another captor interjected, “I–we didn’t mean it like that. We only wished to honor you.”
A third only made it worse, “We believed an untouched human girl would have the purest, most exquisite taste.”
Your stomach folded on itself. And it was as if Sylus could sense it. His gaze flickered to you briefly, a faint crease forming between his brows under the mask, before he turned back. “Enough!”
Silence fell over the hall. Everyone recognized that tone. He was displeased. And when he was in this mood, he tended to make an example of someone. After all, he hadn’t earned his reputation without reason. Someone was about to die.
All eyes were on the five vampires, you, and Sylus.
One vampire behind you collapsed to his knees. “Please, my King. Mercy.”
Ah. Another mistake committed by him tonight.
“Mercy?” Sylus laughed. “Do I look like a merciful King to you? What’s next? You’ll ask to sit at my side?”
The vampire shook his head. “N–no, my King. Please–spare us—”
“You should’ve considered that before bringing her here.” With a casual flick of his fingers, their heads dropped next to their bodies behind you. You flinched.
And then he approached you.
With two fingers under your chin, he guided your face up to meet his eyes and removed his mask.
Your breath caught.
Shit. He was hot. Extremely so. And those red eyes… the fear inside you shifted into something else. Excitement? Thrill? Desire?
No. Ew. He was a vicious vampire king who only saw you as food. Right?
“You’re cold for a human.” These were his first words to you. Weird. Oddly gentle for a ruthless vampire, but okay.
“Well, it is cold in here,” you blurted.
Shit. You’re dead. Your head would join your captors’.
His lips twitched. Barely. But you saw it. Was he amused?
“And what is your name, mortal?” he asked, removing your mask with surprising delicacy.
“Y/n,” you said, forcing steady eye contact. You had to show strength. Even if he could hear your heartbeat thundering.
“Beautiful,” he murmured, and it caused goosebumps to break across your skin.
Was he talking about your name or your…face? Probably something else entirely that had nothing to do with you.
“Huh?” escaped you.
Fuck. You did it again. You were doomed. He was gonna think you were disrespecting him and get offended.
This time, he smirked subtly. “Rise.”
A single command. And you found your body obeying instantly.
He clapped twice. What the hell did that mean? Was it a signal for them to attack and rip you apart? For guards to drag you out and feed you to some other vicious vampire he probably kept up in his dungeon.
Instead, the ballroom resumed its merriment, as if nothing happened.
Sylus motioned for you to walk with him.
You followed him until you reached his balcony, away from prying eyes.
Then he did the most unexpected thing: he removed his coat and draped it over your shoulders. The shock on your face was unmistakable.
“You were shivering. Can’t have my guests catching a cold, now can I? I’d be a terrible host.”
You couldn’t believe your ears. You were his guest? You? Whaaat?
“Not a blood bag?” you blurted.
You and that damned mouth that was gonna get you in trouble if you kept speaking without thinking.
“Technically, yes,” he mused. “Depends on who you ask. But you’re safe here. No one would dare touch you while you’re under my protection.”
Your heart skipped a beat. “Can I ask you something?”
He nodded. “Go on.”
“Why?”
He knew what you were asking, but he wanted to hear you say it. His eyes gleamed. “Why what?”
“Why did you spare me?”
“Who said I’m sparing you?” he teased.
Oh, he was toying with you. Testing you.
“You… just said that I was safe.”
He nodded. “True. Safe from everyone else,” he corrected. “No one other than me would dare touch you. Surely you didn’t think the rules applied to me?”
“Right. Of course not. You’re the vicious vampire king,” you muttered with a hint of sarcasm.
“You’re a brave one. Talking to your king like that.”
Somehow you found the gut to say the next words. “My king? I’m a human. You’re a vampire. You rule over your kind.”
“And a defiant one, I see. Tell me, did you not just witness what I do to offenders?” he asked, amused.
You shrugged. “I have. But I also know what happens to the weak. Besides, they deserved it. I won’t feel pity for them.”
He chuckled. “You do realize I could end your life with a snap of my fingers?”
“I do. But I won’t beg for my life. If you’re going to kill me, just get it over with.”
“I don’t take kindly to orders.” His tone sharpened, a warning.
“Sorry, Your Grace.” You courtesied with theatrical politeness. “If you wish to end my life, then please do, Your Highness.”
He laughed softly. “Alright. You got me. No harm will come to you. Not from my court…and not even from me, this time. You have my word.”
“Thank you.”
“But what would you give me in return?” he asked.
“Ah, of course there’s a catch,” you smiled. For a moment, you forgot who you were actually talking to. He didn’t seem that vicious or dangerous…well, except for that part where he just killed five vampires simply because he felt like it.
“What? I’m a king after all. I don’t just grant free wishes. I’m not a genie. Besides, nothing in life is free.”
“Fine. What do you want in return for sparing me?”
He wagged a finger. “Ah-ah. I want to know what you’re willing to offer freely.”
“Hmm, I could say my loyalty, but you already have plenty of that.”
“Smart girl. Go on then. I’m intrigued.”
You thought for a long moment. “There is nothing I could offer you that you don’t already have. And I cannot assume you’d want anything, otherwise you’d have already taken it. I’d say the only thing I could offer would be love, but then who’s to say you want it, or even feel it. Besides, it would be a lie to offer something so deep to someone I barely know.”
“I see.” A beat of silence. “And you’re not wrong. If there’s anything I wanted, I’d have taken it. Whether it’s love or otherwise.”
“You can’t force someone to love you.”
“Who said anything about force?” He raised a brow, placing his hands behind his back.
“No? Then how would you take it, if it isn’t offered?”
“By earning it.” He said it so casually, as if it were the easiest thing in the world.
“You make it sound so simple.”
“It is simple. Difficult, maybe. But straightforward. If I want something, I get it. But there are many different ways of getting what we want, depending on what it is and who we want it from. Know your target and act accordingly. Some things require violence, others require a certain amount of…gentleness, and patience.”
You nodded, impressed. “You’re not what I thought you’d be.”
“What? A bloodthirsty vampire?” He smirked. “I am. It’s in my nature. But I’m not cruel. I deal with people the way they deserve to be dealt with.”
You smiled but said nothing. Silence stretched between you, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. You were looking up at the stars, trying not to think about him. Him being this gentle and nice with you didn’t help the thoughts you were having about him.
Then he broke the silence. “Do you want me to bite, or do you want to keep pretending you don’t want me to?”
You turned to look at him, only to find him staring at you. You swallowed hard before answering. “I—What?”
“Don’t be coy with me now. I could hear your heartbeat from the moment you entered, and I can distinguish between fear and…desire.” His fingers hovered over your lips, not touching yet. Waiting for permission.
“I–” your breath hitched.
“You…?” he taunted with an amused smile.
“How much does it hurt?”
Why were you asking that? You should refuse immediately as long as he’s giving you a choice, which he was!
“Only one way to find out.” He shrugged. “So, what is it gonna be, Y/n? Do you dare and are you brave enough to take a chance or will you keep wondering and play it safe?” His hand stayed right in front of your face.
You inhaled deeply, gathering all your courage to speak. “I want to know what it feels like.”
He nodded in acknowledgement, satisfied with your answer. His thumb traced your lips before finding your pulse point, hooking his fingers at the back of your neck and pulling you closer. He extended his fangs and was ready to sink them into your delicate skin before you stopped him.
“Wait!”
One brow lifted. Surprised? Disappointed? Confused?
“Did you change your mind? Does the thought of my fangs penetrating your skin scare you?”
You shook your head. “You asked me earlier what I could offer you. This is my answer.”
“For me to drink from you?” He scoffed lightly. “You do know that I’m a vampire and do this all the time, right?”
You shook your head again. “That’s not what I meant.” You steadied yourself. “I mean willingly. Humans are terrified of your race. Many have been fed on forcibly, at least once. The treaty between our races, the humans sent here as ‘volunteers’, they don’t do it because they desire to be fed on. They do it as a sacrifice to keep the rest of us safe. I can assure you no human who’d been fed on did it without reason. So here I am, offering you my neck without expecting anything in return. You have already given me your word that you’d spare me even without anything in return. So this is me offering you something purely.”
For the first time, Sylus looked stunned.
Then he bit you. He didn’t warn you, didn’t ease into it, he simply claimed you.
It stung at first, but far less than you imagined.
And oh, did he enjoy it. He groaned in satisfaction. The taste of your untainted blood hit his tongue, and it was euphoric. For the first time, he found it difficult to stop. He’d never had blood taste this sweet and delicious. But then he remembered his promise to you and pulled back. Slowly. Reluctantly.
Your blood dripped down from the corner of his lips. “Exquisite,” he breathed as he looked down at you.
You were gasping softly, lips parted.
“And? How was it? Up to your expectations?” He wiped the blood with his thumb before applying gentle pressure to your wound.
“Better,” you whispered.
He smirked. “Good. Are you interested in making a deal with me?”
You raised a brow. “What kind of deal?”
“Stay by my side…And let me earn your love,” he said bluntly.
“Oh.” That rendered you speechless for a moment.
But for some reason, you found yourself asking, “And what would I get in return?”
“Other than my eternal love and devotion? You’d have a place by my side. As my queen. You’d want for nothing, whether it’s physical, material, emotional, or otherwise.”
“I–”
“You don’t have to give me an answer now. I’ll wait for as long as you need.”
You nodded. “If I do accept, where would I stay?... Sleep?”
“Ah. If it is a separate bedroom you prefer, you shall have one.”
“You sleep on a bed?…Not in a coffin?”
He snorted. “This is the twenty-first century. Beds exist. Vampires have evolved. Though the coffin has…its charms, I still have mine if that’s what you’re asking. It was more sanitary than many places back in the day. And on some days, it feels better than a bed.”
“I see.”
He saw your hesitation and already knew what you were wondering. “Would you like to see it?”
You nodded. He offered you his hand and you took it as he led you down through the castle halls. The lower levels were lit up by firelight. Finally, you reached a secluded chamber with a single ornate coffin. He let go of your hand to open it before stepping aside.
You approached slowly, looking inside, taking it in.
Then, from behind, he whispered: “I dare you to lie inside.”
Your eyes widened briefly, heart racing, but you were determined to show him that it wasn’t a big deal. So, you did.
The truth was, he never allowed anyone inside his coffin, yet somehow he found himself wanting to share it with you. He climbed in after you, the space feeling extremely tight, but not unwelcome. His chest pressed to yours as he turned to face you.
“Would you sleep in here with me if I asked nicely?”
You nodded, breath shallow.
“No need to be anxious, Y/n,” he murmured. “Nothing will happen to you. And I won’t touch you if you don’t want me to.”
Maybe he wasn’t the vicious vampire everyone claimed he was after all. And somehow, deep down, you knew he’d never harm you as sleep finally claimed you.
For the first time in ages, Sylus slept through the night and it felt good. Peaceful.
The next morning felt different. Though you were in enemy territory, you felt safe. When you opened your eyes you found his staring back at you.
“Good morning,” he muttered softly.
You blinked. “Morning...”
“You must be starving. I’ll have the servants prepare something for you.” And with that he was gone.
Your mouth hung open as you processed what just happened.
Later, as you wandered upstairs, the servants surprisingly greeted you respectfully. This was the first time vampires had ever looked at you like you weren’t food. Well, Sylus too, but that was different.
You ate alone in the grand hall, the dining table was way too big and felt oddly uncomfortable. After that, you explored his castle, ceilings, tapestries, the strange quiet of a place built for power but filled with loneliness.
You found yourself wondering where Sylus had disappeared. What he was doing. If he was with someone…
You ended up in the royal gardens around sunset and they were breathtaking. He had all sorts of unique plants and flowers you’ve never seen before.
You reached out to touch a petal of one flower that caught your attention, but his voice stopped you.
“Careful,” he warned, approaching you with his hands behind his back. “This one is poisonous.”
You startled. “Your Highness.”
He shook his head. “There’s no need for formalities or pretense. You said it yourself, I’m not your king.”
You narrowed your eyes for a moment before nodding. This was better than having to keep pretending.
“Have you been…enjoying your day?”
“Yes. Your home is beautiful, but…”
He raised a brow. “But?”
“It’s lonely. It feels so empty. Cold.”
“That’s the price you pay for immortality when you have no one to share it with,” he said simply, as if he’d grown accustomed to it.
You swallowed. “I have been thinking about your offer. It’s… a good one.”
“But it is one that would bind you to me for your entire life,” he reminded you.
“Yes. However, here I’d have safety, stability, and,... maybe one day, love. That’s more than most humans can dream of, considering how your kind rules the night and roams the streets.”
His jaw clenched. “True. Being by my side would eliminate those threats. But are you truly sure you want to spend the rest of your life with me?”
“I would still have my freedom, right?”
He exhaled. “Is any of us truly free?”
When you didn’t answer, he continued, “I could tell you you’d be free to do whatever you want, but that would be a lie. If you stay here, there would be certain rules you’d have to adhere to. And while yes, in a physical sense you may roam the castle as you wish, that’s not the case for the outside world. Once you step outside my castle, my kingdom, I cannot guarantee your safety, which is something I have vowed to do if you accept the deal. So, while I’m not restricting you from venturing out, I would require that I know every time you leave, and that you take some of my trusted subordinates with you.”
You considered for a moment, his words sinking in. “Fine. I can live with that.”
“Y/n…”
“What? Are you,” you searched his eyes, “hesitating?”
“No. But I want you to be certain. I don’t want you to rush into this. It’s a lifelong commitment for a mortal.”
“I know. And as a ‘mortal’, I can tell you it's the best deal I’d ever get. You know it’s true. So tell me, how do we do this?” Whatever doubt you had before last night suddenly disappeared, just like magic.
He relented. “Alright. But you won’t like the ritual.”
You looked up at him, waiting for an explanation.
“The ritual requires you to drink my blood, and I yours, ending with a kiss to seal the vow.”
You grimaced, not because he had to sink his fangs into your skin again, but because you had to drink blood.
“Alright. How much blood are we talking about?”
“Not a drop,” he said dryly. “If that’s what you’re hoping for.”
Then he cut his wrist and lifted it to your mouth. “Drink.”
You obeyed, lips sealing around his skin as you drew his blood onto your tongue. His fingers slid into your hair gently, stroking as if grounding you while you drank. “That’s enough.”
You pulled back, breath unsteady, his blood trailing down your chin. His thumb caught it slowly, smearing it across your mouth before he leaned back to look at you, eyes dark, intent, as if committing the sight to memory. Then, he leaned down, whispering, “You look better like this. Marked with my blood.”
The next thing you knew, he sank his fangs into you again, a quiet gasp escaping you as your nails gripped his shoulders. It didn’t take long for him to drink before finally sealing the ritual with his blood-stained lips crashing against yours.
Your blood, breath, and saliva mixing as the two of you became bound.
“Now you’re mine. And I’m yours,” he whispered against your lips before devouring your mouth.
The ritual’s final kiss didn’t break. It deepened. He cupped your face with a gentle command, tilting your head back to taste more of your soft mouth. His silver-white hair tumbled forward as he pressed closer.
You felt the cool brush of his fangs when he broke the kiss only to trail his mouth along your jaw to your neck. He paused, breath warm on your skin. “May I?” Sylus whispered. Even lost in desire, he waited for your consent.
At your breathless nod, he let out a shuddering sigh of relief. In one swift motion, he lifted you onto the marble gazebo’s edge, strong hands sliding along your thighs as you wrapped them around his waist.
His hands moved with deliberate care, sliding over your arms, skimming bare skin as he loosened the fabric inch by inch. Each clasp undone sent a shiver down your spine. When your dress finally slipped from your shoulders, revealing a hint of your breasts, he paused again.
You helped him next, fingers trembling as they traced the buttons of his coat, easing it open. He let you, watching you move, until his coat fell to the ground.
He pressed his forehead to yours, taking a deep breath before speaking again, “Come with me.”
He didn’t rush you. He guided you, fingers laced with yours, leading you from the garden, past stone corridors warmed by torchlight, up into the quiet of his bedroom.
The chamber was dim, lit by candlelight. He turned to you before the bed, eyes searching your face. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”
You didn’t answer with words. Your hands rose instead, trembling only slightly as you touched the front of his tunic. He stilled, watching you closely as you undid it piece by piece, fabric parting beneath your fingers. When your touch faltered, his hands covered yours, guiding, steadying, until his shirt fell away.
He reached for the remaining ties of your dress slowly. The fabric loosened inch by inch, slipping down your breasts under his careful hands. His knuckles brushed your bare skin and lingered there for a moment. When the gown finally pooled at your feet, his breath changed.
“So beautiful,” he murmured, not as praise, but as fact.
He eased you down onto the mattress and followed, his knee pressing gently between your legs, urging them to part as his weight settled close.
He finally aligned himself against your warm entrance, holding your gaze with those intense eyes as he guided himself forward. A breathless gasp tumbled from your lips as he slowly filled you, inch by torturous inch. He moved with controlled strength, letting you feel every bit of him without ever slamming or rushing. Your body arched to meet his, as large hands slid to your hips, steadying you.
He watched you intently, attentive to your every need, he adjusted his angle with a slight shift of his hips, drawing a startled cry from you as he hit that perfect spot inside. A satisfied smile ghosted across his lips at your reaction.
The sensation was maddeningly exquisite: he would withdraw almost completely, the emptiness making you whine softly in protest, only to plunge back in with that same deliberate depth, drawing a trembling moan from deep in your throat.
Your hands slid up to grasp at his biceps, feeling them flex and tense under your palms with each restrained movement.
One of his hands captured your wrists when you began to writhe too desperately. He pinned them gently above your head, pressing them into the pillows. His thumb caressed the inside of your wrist in a soothing stroke.
“Easy,” he murmured, the word soft yet commanding.
You yielded completely, wrapping your legs around his waist to draw him even closer. The new angle sent a bolt of raw pleasure through you both, and Sylus hissed a breath between his teeth, his composure flickering as your inner walls clenched around him.
For just a heartbeat, his restraint nearly slipped, his next thrust was harder, driving into you with a force that bordered on rough. A broken cry spilled from your lips at the sudden intensity, pleasure and a hint of pain blurring together. Realizing how fiercely his desire had surged, Sylus forced himself to still, buried deep inside you while you quivered around him. With a ragged exhale, he pressed a tender kiss to your parted lips, an unspoken apology and reassurance all in one.
“Alright?” he asked softly.
You nodded and whispered a breathless “Yes… please, don’t stop.”
Sylus’s lips curved in a faint smile against your mouth, and he resumed his motions, returning to that deep, rolling rhythm that made your toes curl.
His gaze drifted to the delicate column of your throat, where a single bead of sweat trickled down. The pulse there fluttered wildly with your excitement. Sylus felt his fangs ache with need. He had held off this long, determined to put your pleasure first, but the hunger was growing, intertwining with the pleasure in a dizzying mix.
Bowing his head, he brushed aside your hair to bare the smooth curve of your neck. He kissed you there, slowly, sensually, a silent warning and a request. You tilted your head in wordless consent, exposing more of yourself to him, and he did not miss the way your body tightened eagerly around him in response.
“I’ll be gentle,” he promised against your skin.
On the next thrust, as he filled you to the hilt, Sylus finally gave in to his darker desire. His fangs sank into your neck with careful precision. He stilled inside you, holding you tight as your blood flowed over his tongue. His arm slipped beneath the arch of your back, cradling you against his chest as he drank. There was a strange, hypnotic bliss in yielding so completely, in feeling his mouth at your throat, knowing he was taking sustenance from you even as he gave you ecstasy in return.
Your fingers tangled in his hair, pain and pleasure twined tightly together; each time he drew on your vein, a responsive throb clenched around the hardness he kept buried inside you.
Sylus growled softly against your neck at that exquisite squeeze, Instinctively, your hips rolled, urging him to move, to keep taking you. He answered with a slow grind of his hips, stirring a fresh wave of sensation deep in your core, even as he continued to drink in measured pulls.
Pleasure was building rapidly now, and he could feel it in the way your body tightened.
He forced himself to be gentle, even now, when his own desire was roaring in his veins. His inner demon snarled for more, more blood, more thrusts, more of you. But he held it on a tight leash. His free hand found yours and he interlaced your fingers, grounding both of you in that moment of shared connection.
He drank until he sensed your pulse quicken even further, a sign both of your arousal peaking and the need to stop before he took too much. Reluctantly, he retracted his fangs, sealing his lips over the bite marks as he withdrew. His tongue swept over the small wounds, a soothing caress that staunched the blood.
He raised his head to look at you then, licking the last trace of crimson from his lips.
With a deep groan, he began to move again in earnest. The leisurely pace he’d maintained finally fractured under the tide of shared lust. He didn’t fully unleash, even now there was a remarkable control in the way he drove into you, but his thrusts were harder and deeper.
The relentless friction and the throbbing aftershocks of the bite finally sent you tumbling over the edge. Sylus held you as you fell apart, capturing your moan with his mouth in a fierce, passionate kiss.
Your release triggered his own. With a ragged growl into your mouth, Sylus thrust one final time, plunging as far as he could go and spilling himself deep inside you. He broke the kiss only to press his forehead to yours, his chest heaving as he caught his breath. For a long moment, neither of you moved.
Eventually, he carefully eased himself from your body, drawing a mutual gasp at the sensitivity, and then settled by your side on the rumpled sheets.
Immediately, he gathered you against him, cradling your head to his chest. He tilted your chin gently, inspecting the small puncture wounds with visible concern despite how minor they were. A remorseful flicker crossed his face, as if worried he’d hurt you, but you just gave him a sated, lazy smile to reassure him. Leaning in, he placed a soft, open-mouthed kiss over the marks, his tongue darting out to lave the tender skin.
Finally, he relaxed fully, laying back against the pillows and drew half your body on top of him, enveloping your smaller form in his arms. He shifted just enough to pull the blankets around you, cocooning you in warmth. You felt his lips press to your forehead.
Completely spent and blissful, you closed your eyes. In his arms, you knew you were cherished and protected, the dark fiend’s beloved, held safe until sleep claimed you both.
Imagine your vamp!gf stalking into your room in the middle of the night, drunk of her latest kill.
Her vision hazed with bloodlust. She looks upon you, lying on your stomach, leg propped up on a pillow between your legs; sleeping peacefully.
You looked ravishing. Her hands grasp at your curves that were concealed by a thin sheet, it clings to your body; desire pulsating through her.
She’s quick to rip the blanket off showing your luscious body that adored a small slip dress that barely covered your ass, tits spilling out of the top. It’s like you were teasing her.
Her lip snarls, grabbing your breast, groaning at the soft flesh spilling between her fingers as she kneads the fatty flesh. Her hips grind on the back of your thigh, pleasure shooting up her core at your innocent sleeping form not knowing how she was defiling you. Then she heard you moan, your eyes moving behind closed lids. She rubbed your head cooing at you, whispering in your ear in an ancient, compelling voice; “Sleep.” Then she knew you wouldn’t wake up, she needed you like this.
Her free hand finds its way to your bottom, ripping the silk dress up exposing your bare ass. She lets out a low, raspy breath, a vicious smirk dawning her face, her fangs shining in the moonlight that dipped in and out of your window.
She lets go of your breast grabbing both of your asscheeks, spreading them. She couldn’t help the whimper she let out seeing your pretty little holes. Your pussy weeped with arousal, your puckered hole pulsated with need.
She was salivating, letting the spit gather on her tongue and opening her mouth the spit traveling down your waiting holes.
She let your ass go, hiking her dress up she rips her panties off, putting them under your pillow. Fixing herself over the back of your thigh grinding her wet cunt against your leg, like a cat in heat.
Her long, cold fingers find your wet, waiting pussy plunging into your gushing hole; your walls squeezed her fingers devilishly. She moaned loudly as she fucked your cunt with her fingers, the same rhythm she humped your thigh too. ‘’Fucking little pussy was made for me.’’ She whispers to your sleeping body. Her thumb attaches to your clit.
If you were awake right now she already know you’d be mewling for her to fuck you, grasping at her mean hands that toyed with you.
‘’Gonna fuck you so good when you wake up, little pet.’’
She groans, finally feeling your velvet walls flutter around her slender fingers. She whines, slipping her fingers out of you. Bringing her fingers to her nostrils inhaling your scent like a hound dog, her whines turn into moans as her hips go wild. Moans turns into gargled groans as she sucks her own fingers like a mad man. Then, it happens.
Then she looks out the window, still on top of your sleeping figure. She knows the sun is going to come up any minute now and she wishes she could stay with you, basket in the morning bliss and not leave the bed until your legs are shaking with pleasure. But it’s useless to dream, well except the one where she's feeding you her blood. Finally sharing the dark gift, to be her immoral companion. Now, that’s a dream— no, a future, she can entertain.
When she leaves you instantly wake up, the all too familiar aftershocks of an orgasm making you delirious. Arms moving out from under your pillow just to find something shoved under there. Pulling the object out you see it’s a pair of torn lacy black underwear. Then you smile connecting the dots instantly holding the panties to your chest. You rub your thighs together thinking about how you're going to confront her tonight.
