Oct 22, 2025
Vampire Hunter, request from my patrons from a year ago
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Vampire Hunter, request from my patrons from a year ago
sapphic vampires. ok post
The Sweetest Taste
(Vampire!Baran Al-Hashimi x fem!reader)
Summary : Baran is, by any standard, a very loyal vampire. She only ever goes to one person when she needs to feed: You.
Warnings / Tags : (18 +) smut w/ little plot, needy!vamp!Baran, biting + blood sucking (but in a horny way), dry humping, (some) nipple play, oral (r!receiving), overstimulation (r!receiving), fingering (r!receiving), + aftercare <3
Notes : reading Carmilla rn if you couldn’t tell. needy!vamp!Baran is just so… mmmmhhhhhh 🤤
You felt her presence before you even laid eyes on her—the light breeze coming in through the window, the cool feeling emanating from just beside the bed where you lay, reading a book. Just in case, you slowly got up, leaving the novel open on the bed as you approached the window.
“Hi, my love.”
Baran’s whispered voice comes from just behind you the same moment that you feel a cold pair of hands around your waist, slipping under your sleep shirt—white, silk, like you knew she was coming.
“I’ve missed you.”
She murmurs as her hands slide upwards, cold, steady, slender fingers trailing reverently up your torso until they wrap around your breasts, squeezing teasingly. She can never seem to unlatch herself from you whenever she gets her hands on you.
“It’s only been two days.”
You point out—much more teasingly than unkindly, of course. Baran rests her chin on your shoulder, dark brown curls tickling the side of your neck. She’s got this smug little smile on her face, staring at you with those beautiful brow eyes.
“Two days too long.”
She murmurs, pressing a kiss against your neck, hands squeezing your breasts again. You can feel her smile against your skin. A moment of silence passes, Baden just inhaling your scent, nudging your neck with her nose. She hesitates before the next whispered words.
“I think you know why I'm here, janam.”
Of course you know. She sees you as often as she can, but on nights like this, coming over without warning, sneaking into your room, hugging you from behind… you know exactly what she wants. The theory is only solidified when you feel her lips part, sharp fangs pressing right against the junction of your neck.
Her hands start slowly kneading your breasts, squeezing while her thumbs brush your nipples—gentle and careful, like she’s easing you into this. Her lips press, cold and soft against your neck, wherever she can reach while being so closely pressed up against you. She can sense your hesitation. It’s only natural. The pain of her teeth sinking into your neck, the dizziness that comes with the blood loss, you know it’s coming. It’s nothing new.
“Please, baby.” Baran presses a long, drawn out kiss on your neck. “I need you.”
Within a few kisses and mumbled words, Baran is guiding you back onto the bed, climbing slowly over you. Her mouth stays attached to yours in a slow kiss while her hands work on pushing your top off. She pulls away for a moment just to watch as you come undressed. She gets this hungry look in her eyes. If she was any normal human, you’d think it was just lust. But no. That human lust is accompanied by straight hunger. Bloodlust, as some call it.
Her hands trail reverently up your sides, cold fingers leaving goosebumps in their wake. Baran leans in to press slow kisses against your skin from where she kneels between your legs. She works her way up, starting from the waistband of your sleep shorts—leaving you with an unsatisfied ache between your legs, to be dealt with later—and up until she reaches the base of your neck. Now, when she looks up at you, there’s a new look in her eyes. Barely restrained need and… a little bit of guilt. The last thing Baran wants is to hurt you. She just can’t control herself when it comes to you… and you let her do it every time.
This night is no different. A quick nod is all Baran needs for her self-control to snap. She leans in, parted lips hovering over your throat, pupils dilated, jaw clenched to keep herself in check. Then you feel it. The sting of her fangs sinking into your neck. A pained cry slips from your throat. Baran immediately reaches up to cradle your face, caressing your cheek like she can reassure you now. It would be totally sweet and gentle, if it weren’t for how her strokes began to get a little messy. If it weren’t for the soft moan that slipped from her throat while she sucked hard on your neck, unable to resist the taste of her girl.
Somehow, the pain turns into something different. Something that causes heat to pool in your stomach, your hand tangling up into Baran’s hair as your hips begin to shift restlessly under her. She notices immediately. Before you can even ask, her hand moves from your cheek to pressing between your legs. Vampire speed has its advantages. She can feel how wet you are through the thin pajama bottoms. It only makes her feel more needy.
Her hand rubs and grinds between your legs as she sucks from your neck. The pain coupled with the pleasure from her hand teasing your clothed pussy is a sensation you somehow never get used to—a kind of pleasure that only Baran could ever make you feel.
Baran only unlatches from you when she hears your soft panting turn into something slower—the kind of labored breathing that comes with losing a little too much blood. When she does, she’s panting, eyes dark with need as she licks the last of the puncture on your neck to get the remaining blood flowing there. But she’s not done. Far from it. This sparked something in her that only fueled her need. Before you could catch your breath, she’s already leaving deep, open mouthed kisses all down your chest and torso, sucking a mark on the curve of your breast, leaving another on your hip, and again on the top of your thigh as she begins pushing your shorts down, all while mumbling:
“Good girl. You did so good. Baraye man besiar ali est.”
She guides you with worshipful grace from here, glancing up with dark, half-lidded eyes to see your chest rise and fall as she guides your shorts down, to see your breath hitch as she presses a slow kiss to your inner thigh, you biting your lip while she guides your thighs over her shoulders. She could watch you for hours and never get bored. It’s out of this mix of sheer fascination and utter devotion.
Baran takes a shaky breath when she’s face to face with your soaking cunt. She’s never been good at taking it slow with you. No matter how much she just wants you to feel good, she’s addicted to the taste of you—blood or no blood. In a moment of impulse, as her breathing picks up, she surges forward and sinks her fangs into the plush skin of your thigh, sucking desperately.
You gasp, prop yourself up on shaky arms, thighs already twitching. It should hurt. That’s what you should focus on. But you can’t. Not when her hands are gripping your thighs and she’s so close to giving you what you want. This time, it’s your voice that pulls her out of that blood-drunk state:
“Please.”
Her head snaps up, teeth unlatching, leaving her fangs stained with blood that drips down her chin. Her eyes are wide and beautiful, hair a little messy. She looks so perfect. And she can’t resist for a second longer. She almost immediately dives in and licks a stripe from your entrance right up to your clit. A moan is dragged from your lips, immediately spurring her on. She licks fervently, giving you no time to adjust—it’s just overwhelming pleasure now.
Her tongue probes your sensitive bud with desperate strokes, unrelenting even as your hand shoots out to tangle into her hair. You get this feeling of white hot overstimulation from her non-stop licks to your clit. Once she found that sensitive spot, it’s like she couldn’t bear leaving it alone.
You start squirming, thighs twitching and shifting around Baran’s head. She doesn’t take it as a sign to slow down. Of course not. Instead, one hand detaches from your thigh. Before you know it, she’s stuffing your pussy with two fingers. A ragged groan sounds from her throat as she feels your walls—tight, always so fucking tight for her—clench around the sudden stretch of her fingers. She hears you babble something long the lines of:
“Fuck— s’too much-“
…And doesn’t listen. Because she knows you well enough to know you love this. She knows that you love being filled with her, pushed until it’s almost too much. It’s her way of giving you a reward.
Her fingers piston in and out of you with a speed that can only be natural for something who isn’t human. Again, the vampiric tendencies come in handy. The wet squelch of your cunt taking her fingers is maybe her favorite sound in the world (second only to your moaning, she supposes). Every time she shoves them in and curls into that spongy spot that makes you whine and arch your back, her lips turn up in a small smile.
It’s not long before she senses you at the edge. She looks up from where she’s licking your clit, eyes fixed on your face, a silent command: “Please don’t look away.” And you don’t. You keep your eyes fixed on her as you pant and whine, back arching, until you’re cumming on her fingers, drenching them in your wetness while she licks and fingers you through it.
Loud moans turn into heavy breathing as Baran’s fingers slow. Her licks cease as she lets out a breath and kisses your thigh ever so gently, worshipfully. Her fingers pull from you slowly and end up immediately in her mouth, her tongue swirling around her own digits, cleaning the mess you made. You watch her for a long moment, feeling totally boneless, fucked stupid by her. A small smile pulls at your lips. She’s still covered in your blood. And yet she looks so soft, staring down at you with those doe-eyes, like you’re the most precious thing she’s ever seen.
Baran leans in and presses a slow kiss to your lips, savoring the moment.
“I’m making you breakfast in the morning. Do you need water?”
She asks quietly—she’s gotten good at understanding human needs by taking care of you—while her hands rub gently up your sides, soothing you as your body relaxes into the bed. You shake your head.
“Later. Just stay here.”
You mumble. Baran grins again, leaving a quick kiss on your lips. She slowly pulls back to admire her work—the many marks left all over your perfect body—like a proud child at her new art piece. Then, carefully, she settles down, tucking her face into your neck, half draping herself over you, arms encircling you. She’s partially savoring your warmth. Partially trying to hold you close so she won’t ever have to let go.
redraw of last year's carmilla piece
[ID: black and white digital fanart of carmilla from the novel by sheridan le fanu. she's wearing an 1860s style nightgown with her wavy hair loose about her. she stares steadily at the viewer, her face, gown, and hands stained with blood. end ID]
diversity win! the vampire slowly siphoning your life force is a lesbian!
𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐯𝐚𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 ♡ vampire!natasha romanoff x sired!reader
⋆ ⋆ ─ 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 [ 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐛𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐱𝐭. ]
𝐆𝐋𝐔𝐓𝐓𝐎𝐍𝐘 ≠ 𝐓𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄 ✉︎ after natasha settled you into your new place by her side she moves you both far from what remains of your old life... soon panic strikes london when a serial killer emerges leaving their victims slaughtered and exsanguinated. while unable to catch their suspect, the scotland yard seem to have no idea who or what they’re really up against. ⋆ ⋆ ─ this was from my december ficlist that i never finalized.
⋆ ⋆ ─ tags: no use of y/n ⋆ mdni ⋆ reader nondescript ⋆ sapphic ⋆ SMUT +18 ⋆ vampire au ⋆ blood ⋆ biting ⋆ frottage ⋆ master/slave dynamics ⋆ word count: 3.6k ▹ angel - massive attack
[valentines fic⋆tape]⠀ ✉︎⠀[masterlist]⠀✉︎⠀[nr masterlist]
⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀ જ⁀➴ ⠀listen on apple music here: [X]
“I do appreciate you taking the time to meet with me today Miss.” The detective dipped his head respectfully as you entered his office.
“It’s my pleasure.” You offered him a smile. “I’m sure I’m in agreeance with the rest of London that we all wish to see this monster seized as quickly as possible.”
“Right.” He agreed with you. “And given your encounter, I’m sure you’re frightened.”
You nodded, hand reaching your to toy with the broach pinned through your scarf as a display of your nerves.
“He was terrifying.” You admitted, voice choking with emotion. “I swear it was a demon.”
“No demon, Miss.” He offered you a tissue from his desk. “I can assure you s’ no such thing as monsters. Only men.”
You offered him a teary smile dotting your eye with the cloth.
“I suppose I do sound silly.” You admitted. “Speaking of demons, ghosts and ghouls.”
The detective casted you a sympathetic smile.
“You’ve been through a great trauma, dear. It’s only natural for your mind to rationalize such a heinous scene.”
He turned to his notes, clearing his throat.
“So stated that you were walking home last night?”
You nodded along with his words.
“I work managing a house for Ms. Romanova.” You started. His eyebrows raised.
“Were you alone?” He fished for more information. You nodded. The expression on his face soured slightly.
“I usually stray from being out so long after dark. I-I’m restaffing at the moment, so my days have been running quite long with all the extra chores.”
“Such hard work for such a young lady.” His eyes rows raised. “I’m sure she can’t be an easy boss to please.”
“You mistake her character. I love my job more than anything.” You rushed out. You couldn’t dare to imagine your life any other way.
“Right… apologies,” he turned back to the words before him. “You saw the attack?”
“Not all of it. I heard the screams first.”
“You didn’t run away?”
“Occupational reaction I suppose.” You shrugged. “I’ve dealt with gardeners fall on their equipment, seamstresses stitch through their flesh, cooks severing their fingers, I -”
“I understand.” He cut you off. “And you saw this man?” You nodded.
“He had this knife.” You explained raising your hands to clumsily gesture the size. “Yay big. He, he was kneeling over that poor man.” You began to sob, eyes squeezing tight at the memory. The detective gave you a moment to gather yourself before he continued.
“So this man,” he started again. “Can you describe anything about him?”
“He was tall, lean but, not thin. I couldn’t see much in the dark. He had some sort of hat on, I think. I-I really wish I saw more, but when he noticed me I got so scared. I screamed and screamed. People started opening their doors. I think all the commotion scared him off.”
He gave you a look of pained sympathy when he looked up from his notes. Your eyes blurred with tears, hands trembling as you clenched the tissue between your fingers. You sniffed as politely as you could behind the tissue. He could see the distress on your face, your body rigid with tension.
Of course it was all lie.
Your entire story was a twisted fabrication of the real truth. There was no other man present besides the victim. And not only did you witness the crime- but you were an accessory to his murder. In fact, you were the very reason behind why he ended up being lured to that darkened area of the street. You flirted with him then guided him to where your partner waited down an unoccupied alley. Then you stood back and held the real murderer’s jacket as her victim was drained of his life. You then staged his body for discovery while the murderer fled to ensure she had an alibi. The black fabrics of the dress you wore that night had disguised any blood that had spilled upon you before your charade had started.
After your initial interview with the officers, you were escorted home still displaying an act of a traumatized bystander. The detectives waited with you for the head of the house to arrive home- claiming you to be emotionally unstable. Natasha arrived to the house shortly after. The dinner party she was attending was cut short after some of the detectives that were attending had to leave due to the fresh victim of The Ripper.
With all his questions for you seemingly answered, the detective finished up the interview. He apologized for having to make you relive the events of that night, not wanting to cause you any more emotional distress. He offered you his hand to help you stand from his chair as he escorted you from his office. You zeroed in on her location before the crowd of people cleared up.
“Ms. Romanova.” The detective greeted with a surprised look. Your partner stood out amongst the officers and other townsfolk. Natasha carried an inhuman air of beauty. You found her almost impossible not to gawk at.
“Detective,” she gave him a smile as she reached out to you. You clutched the cloth in your one hand as you placed yourself at Natasha’s side.
“It would seem that we are done here.” He informed.
“I hope that I was of some help.” You said meekly. Natasha made a show of hugging your shoulder in comfort.
He nodded. “Of course. I would feel a lot better if you ladies would allow one of our officers to give you an escort home.”
“That won’t be necessary.” Natasha answered for you. “We’ve got a few errands to make before we head home. Maybe take her mind off of some things.” She gave the detective a knowing look, side glancing to you momentarily.
“Very well.” He nodded. “If anything else comes to mind, you let us know. Be sure you two make it home before dark.”
You looped your elbow against Natasha’s arm at the doorway, both of you bidding the fools of Scotland Yard a goodbye for now.
Once you had made it a handful of steps did Natasha speak.
“You did very well.” She praised while keeping her eyes forward.
“Did I?” You peered over to her, excited nerves bundling in your chest. She nodded with a small sound of approval.
“Just like we rehearsed.” A playful laugh erupted from her painted lips. “Your little performance even had me a little teary eyed.”
Warmth bloomed through your chest as she confirmed her prideful admission, a satisfied smile settled onto your features. You wanted to be convincing to the detective. You wanted to be good for Natasha. Selling a half convincing lie to the Scotland Yard and casting suspicion on yourself would only complicate Natasha’s affairs.
Aside from just being something fun to do, Natasha’s goal with the Scotland Yard was to ensure there would never be a possibility of herself becoming a suspect. The Scotland Yard was not a fan of her or any of her acquaintances. They had been circling their affairs for months, but never could find any evidence to link them to anything. If a muster seems to take place while Natasha is with her aquantences and the Scotland Yard- there could be no real link to them. Once their business in London was complete, they could believe whatever they wanted because they would be moving on to a new place.
“We have to stop and see Yelena before we go home.” She changed the subject. “She’s back from visiting Romania and I commissioned her for a gift.”
You had met Yelena before when you first moved to England and stayed in the countryside. Your memories of that time were foggy and hard to catalogue. Natasha explained that you fell dangerously ill and came close to succumbing to the symptoms. Thinking too much about it gave you a headache and your stomach churn. You usually followed her advice to not to dwell on it, but the mentions of her sister’s name had your thoughts deepening. It stirred up a subtle ache somewhere deep in your brain.
You both arrived to her sister’s residence, being greeted by a housemaid at the foyer. She rattled on about notifying Yelena of your arrival before she disappeared from the sitting room. Natasha made herself right at home taking a seat on the expensive couch while you numbly trailed to stand by the arm. She took notice to your altered state peering upwards to your vacant face. Her hand skimmed your back to pull you down, seating you beside her to rest on the arm of the chair. Her fingers toyed with the golden ring on your finger.
“You remember Yelena right? I know it been some time once you’ve last met.”
“When we met...” you trailed off trying to find a way to articulate your muddled thoughts. “I was-”
“I know,” Natasha cooed, affectionately brushing her hand against your cheek. “You weren’t feeling very well. You just needed some fresh air and a little space.” You nodded.
Yelena entered the room, shouting excitedly in Russian at her sister. Natasha stood to greet her, leaving you sat in your place to wait. Your mind wandered back to your time at the cottage. The rampant fever burned away most of your lucid memory of the months you spent there with Natasha. Though, you could remember Yelena visited her sister frequently there. She would make supply deliveries to Natasha- who had refused to allow you out of her sight. The breech of privacy was insisted to be necessary by Natasha. Who were you to know any better?
When they had settled Yelena finally turned her attention towards you, calling out your name to gain your attention. You delivered a polite hello. She looked a little different than you remembered, but still youthful as ever. Her skirt was simple, clearly expensively tailored matched with a dark laced blouse and jacket. Though her hair was pulled upwards and styled, you could tell it was shorter and the red eyes you remember being introduced to were an unnatural shade of muted green.
“She looks good.” Yelena observed, eyes skimming over your face and assessing your healthier build. “Much better than when I saw her last.” Yelena held back a chuckle. Natasha rolled her eyes. Her little sister had never sired anyone before.
“She’s doing well.” Natasha aknowleged while returning to stand before you. She reached her hand out, fingers toying at the delicate trim of your dress’ jacket.
“A little boring.” Yelena noted.
Natasha gave her an unimpressed look, annoyed with her sister’s pestering.
“She’s a person not a dog, Lena.”
“So she’s just being shy?”
They continued to speak about you like you weren’t in the room.
“Your last encounter was at a rather stressful time for her. Trust me, she’s perfect.” Her hand had traveled upwards to neaten your scarf. The praise warmed your chest.
“I can’t say that I’m not jealous.”
All eyes were still trained up upon you. Not only feeling the sudden awkwardness, the slight pressure behind your eyes had turned to a prominent ache. Natasha picked up on your discomfort instantly, the noticeable uptick in your heartbeat was unmistakable.
“Well, you can kindly oogle someone else.” Natasha said playfully, growing possessive of you.
“Alright, alright, no need for the hostility. Let me find your package.” Yelena joked as she strode into the joining room.
“Are you overthinking again?” Natasha asked, hands moving to pet at the warmed skin of your face. “Must be strange meeting Yelena again. Don’t worry about it, you’ll do better next time.”
You nodded with her words, immediately believing her promise.
You returned home just as the sun began to set. The package Yelena had presented was a smaller sized box wrapped neatly in plain paper. It was still in Natasha’s hands as you watched her set it down on the center table of the sitting room.
“So what is it?” You asked again. You had tried to get the answer on your way home, but she refused to supply you with a one. Natasha just smiled at you, enjoying the playful frustration you displayed. “You’re not going to tell me?”
“No,” she drew out the word. “because it’s for you.” The package was pushed your way.
“For me?”
She nodded. Natasha wanted to reward you for your good behavior. Not that it was a problem before, but meeting with the detective was something new. Yelena arriving back in London with the gift just when Natasha was planning to stage a mess for Scotland Yard was purely coincidence. You were a little surprised. Not that she was gifting you something but because you really had no need for gifts. Natasha supplied you with quite literally anything you ever asked for and more. Despite receiving countless gifts from her before you stared at the package in awe.
“Open it, silly.”
You reached for the gift, pulling the strings of twine that tied it together. Once the paper was out of the way you were able to access the lid of the box, removing it to reveal more packing paper. Your eyes shifted up to Natasha who nodded for you to continue. Under the tissue was a neatly folded black silk.
“What is it?” You asked, fingers itching to touch the soft material.
“It’s a dress. Not and outside dress...” Natasha filled you in. “A dress you can wear only for me.”
A smile carved its way onto your face, eyes brightening in excitement.
“Would you like to try it on for me?” Natasha asked.
You nodded taking the box of folded silk into your hands. Natasha gave you a kiss to your cheek, instructing you to stand up. You eagerly lead the way to your chambers, former headache seemingly forgotten. You had already started undressing before she followed in behind you, locking the door.
Natasha’s own hands wandered to your corset and began to unfasten the tightly strung laces. Once it was loose enough she pulled you free from the constricting material. She methodically continued with each layer of your clothing, eventually tossing your dressing gown to mound of fabric laid over the armchair.
From there she helped you into the new dress in comfortable silence. The garment was off the shoulder, exposing your neck and upper chest. Like much of your wardrobe the black coloring was strategic choice to avoid any blood staining. Natasha’s eyes trained onto the healing bites that still lingered at the junction of your shoulder, something usually easily disguised by your clothings’ neckline or scarves. They would disappear completely soon, but not before new markers would take their place beside them.
When she had the material smoothed out and fitting you perfectly she directed you to the large mirror positioned in the corner of the room. You flittered around in half circles to fully see the movement and flow of the fabric.
“Do you like it?” Natasha asked as she admired your pleased expression in the mirror.
“I love it.” You confirmed.
You spun on your heels to face her, Natasha’s eyes followed every movement of your body as you approached crossing the few steps it took to reach her. You immediately climbed up to sit on her lap, arms wrapping around her shoulders. Her hands found placement on your hips, just shy of grabbing your behind.
“Thank you.” You braced her into a tight hug.
“Your manners are so cute,” she giggled. “You know you never need to thank me for gifts.”
“But, you still like to hear it.” You said quietly, lips ghosting over her ear. Natasha simply hummed in response, enjoying your closeness. She could always hear the steady beat of your heart but now with you pressed up against her she could feel it too. Her gums ached more and more as the beat gradually picked up pace with every timed thump.
Natasha pulled far back far enough to gain access to your lips, wasting no time to press hers against you. You folded on an instant, returning the kiss as her hand shifted lower to grope at your ass. Natasha’s fangs had fully exposed themselves now. They throbbed dully in time with every beat of your heart. Your hips stuttered against her thigh as her sharpened canines bit into your bottom lip.
A whine escaped from you as her lips traveled down your jaw, then hovering against your pulse point. Your heartbeat had picked up again, beating steadily in a rhythm accompanied by the rushing blood through your veins. Her lips sealed against your carotid, tongue laving at your warm skin. She felt your body begin to relax under the touch of her hands on your thighs. The skirt of the new dress was now bunched up to expose your skin to her.
You made another sound of displeasure, this time grinding your hips aiming to relieve the forming ache between your legs. Natasha hushed you while cradling the back of your neck with her hand. The hand still placed on your behind guided your hips against. These grinds were deeper this time allowing your bare core to catch on the skirt Natasha wore.
Natasha didn’t care if you soiled her dressings, instead she encouraged your movements, shifting her weight appropriately against you. With the newfound boost of confidence you deepened your thrusts. Your hips messily worked against the coarse material of her skirt dragging along your core.
Your head tipped back farther in an audible moan. She scraped your neck lightly with her teeth, reveling in the way your body eagerly twitched against her. She waited for you to breathe in one more time before she bit down. Your lips parted again as you silently gasped surprise, fingers tightening where they were now gripped on her arms.
When your thoughts came back together, the uncomfortable pressure from her initial bite was soon forgotten as her venom entered your bloodstream. It casted your mind deeper into your lustful haze, you felt yourself grow impossibly more wet. The toxins spread warmth through your veins quickly, tension in your muscles disappearing and falling almost boneless against her. It was not long before your blood began flowing into her mouth. As soon as the taste of you hit her tongue, Natasha was humming in satisfaction.
She greedily gulped down your blood, still using her hands to hold you steady. Your hips had began to move again without her aid, body regaining some of its autonomy back. They twitched at the increased sensitivity with each lazy thrust. The rhythm was out of synch, but still attempting to chase your high.
The time seemed to liquify as she continued to feed off of you. Your inebriated brain cataloged the minutes that passed by like mere seconds. You began seeing sparkles in your vision as you grew more light headed, soon the edges started dimming out. You knew most people should would been worried, but you were not. You trusted Natasha with your life. Enough to know she would release her hold on you before you were in any real danger.
While so lost in your head, you had never noticed when she released her bite. With hands now guiding your hips, finally jolting you out of your haze. Your eyes trained downward to where she was licking up the expanse of your neck, cleaning the blood that that trailed down your cleavage. Now that you could see her, you could also hear her muffled voice in your ears. The timing was off, and the words sounded far and echoey to you.
“What?” You slurred out while fighting off a moan.
Natasha smiled at you with cherry red stained lips, an adoring expression on her face.
“Are you close, sweet girl?” She repeated.
You nodded, head dropping to her shoulder. Her dominant hand left her place on your hips to find its way under the skirt of your dress. The rough material of her skirt was replaced by the softness of her cold fingers against you. Your body jolted in surprise, the chilled temperature of her skin contrasted against your heated folds, but she didn’t allow you to run. Instead, she held you in place circling against your clit at an inhumanly methodical pace. Her strength was overwhelmed yours, preventing your thighs from closing around her.
Your breathing was labored, uneven breaths passing through your lips wile you moaned and whined in pleasure growing in strength as your orgasm approached. Natasha resumed tonguing at your neck and traveling down, this time playfully sinking her fangs into the exposed flesh of your chest. Your orgasm hit you like a bolt of lightning. She worked you through it slowing her ministrations against your clit. She didn’t pull back either allowing you to soak her hand and her skirt while she prolonged your pleasure.
Finally she let up completely, allowing you to come down from your high. You curled yourself against Natasha’s chest, forehead tucking into the crook of her neck to catch your breath. Her hands started gliding aimlessly up and down the expanse of your back. You stayed like that for some time, slumped and comfortable against your lover. The moon had risen into the sky by the time you started to shift around in her lap.
“You okay?” She asked.
“Why didn’t you get a dress made?” You randomly asked, ignoring her question.
“Who said I didn’t?”
“You need to show me immediately.” You ordered, now sitting up filling to face her.
“It’s not done yet.” She laughed at your enthusiasm. “We have to go to Romania for a final fitting still. Where I will commission to have that seamstress make you a dozen of these dresses.” She tugged the dress’ fabric of your chest.
“Deal.”
i’m so sick of shoveling fuck that groundhog and all his circle of goons. also fuck the US men’s hockey team fr fr. divas be sure to support our lovely gold winning ladies and watch the pwhl
♡ bones
Earnest genuine love is something new to the heiress but she enjoys it all the same
Love me some vampire romance
I need an evil lesbian vampire who only has a soft spot for her beloved!