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ellooo0ooo · 6 months

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Don't Stop (Sandman One-Shot)

GIF: Originally posted by @imironstark

Pairing: Morpheus/Dream of the Endless x AFAB reader

Summary: One-shot. Reader self-insert. Smut. You and Morpheus are in the exploratory stages of your relationship. Morpheus asks to worship you, and all is going well. At least, that is, until you start to wake up...

Warnings: Minors DNI. Smut. Porn with plot. Kissing. Oral sex (AFAB receiving). Slight dominant Morpheus.

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: So I watched Sweetbitter. With my partner. Maybe not the best idea because suppressing the squeaks of excitement whenever Tom came on screen was tough and not always 100% effective! The hyper fixation is still going strong... Hope you enjoy this one. All my love, Saskia xxx

Sandman Masterlist

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It is only when the violent spinning not only stops but holds for several minutes after, does Morpheus make steps in allowing his guard to drop.

He straightens elegantly out of his crouching position, withdrawing his hands from the scree smattered earth. He looks to his left, to Lucienne, who is warily regarding the ground and sky, wondering if they might start to rapidly switch places again.

She meets Morpheus' gaze and adjusts her round-framed spectacles with a steady hand.

"I might be speaking too soon, sir, but I truly think it is over now."

Morpheus takes one last steely appraisal of the horizon, almost daring it to misbehave.

He nods once. "I believe you are correct, Lucienne."

"Will you be requiring anything else from me, my lord?"

"Not at present."

"Very well," Lucienne replies with a warm smile. "I will return to the palace now."

She does a little incline of the head in deference and goes to start the winding walk back towards the glowing lights of the Dreaming's seat of power.

Morpheus calls to his friend.

"I thank you for your persistence in supporting me to resolve these issues. I suggest you take some extra hours to rest."

"I suggest you do the same, sir."

Though her reply is innocuous, the knowing gleam in Lucienne's brown eyes hints at an alternative interpretation, one that Morpheus cannot help but notice.

It was becoming generally well known that he was in the early stages of courtship with a dreamer, you, and there was no doubt that Lucienne was aware of how far the relationship with you had recently gone.

He raises an eyebrow in response, earning a grin from Lucienne and then he watches her walk away.

Once alone, Morpheus allows his eyes to flutter closed as he sifts through the myriad of dormant minds and tunes into the space occupied by yours. He takes a reading of your emotions, thankful to find that you are contented and have not been rendered feeling neglected by his absence.

There's a faint undercurrent lingering below the surface level of your emotions that he is also able to lock on to given the familiarity that you share.

Desire.

They are present, filling you with neediness and longing.

A longing to be touched, to be touched by him.

Morpheus is with you in seconds, appearing in the doorway of the room you have chosen to conceal yourself in.

You are curled up in a large armchair by a panoramic window that frames the mountainous vista beyond. The torches that mark equidistant points along the bridge leading to the palace project a soft gleaming warmth over your skin. You are gazing softly at the landscape, the fingertips of one hand combing through your hair, the others trailing up and down your inner thigh.

Such an innocent yet provocative display. It makes Morpheus' voice drop to an even deeper and more sultry register than usual as he calls to you.

You are out of the chair instantly, meeting him at the threshold of the room. Your heart pumps out an allegro drum beat, the sound of the blood rushing in your ears like a waterfall.

You are pulled into a searing kiss, arms encircle your waist to ensure you are flush against his hips and chest. It is a relief that he is holding you in such a way for your knees are threatening to give out within seconds.

The power he has, in his body, his actions, through his words, in a metaphysical sense; you are helpless against them all.

When Morpheus pulls away from the kiss, you follow him on instinct, aching for more. He smiles faintly at your eagerness but maintains the gap in order to explain his length of absence.

"I must apologise, Y/N. The issue was a little more complex than Lucienne and I had anticipated."

He's looking down with a tint of shame in his aquamarine eyes.

You slide your hands up his forearms, gripping tightly and angling your head so you can capture his gaze.

"There is nothing to be sorry for. Your work and the safety of your dreamers take priority."

He simply nods. Your unwavering understanding is always on the side of overwhelming for him.

You register this in his stance.

"You feel a little tense. I can help with that if you want. Like I did last night?"

You move a hand up to stroke the hair on the back of his head. It is a form of touch that never fails to release tension.

Morpheus indulges in your attentions for a bit, leaning into you and sighing deeply, before staring at you directly with sudden seriousness.

"I cannot deny that what you did for me yesterday was beyond exquisite," He leans in to speak by your ear. "But it is my turn to worship you."

"Oh," You swallow down your surprise. "Okay."

Morpheus wastes no time in guiding you back towards the armchair and sits you on the very edge of the seat pad.

He carefully removes his long sweeping coat and then drops to his knees before you.

His rosy lips are parted, eyes dark pools, both standing out against his beautifully pale skin.

"Where can I touch you?" He asks urgently.

"Everywhere," You reply as the flutterings in your stomach warble your voice.

He begins by trailing his hands up your legs. The patterns he draws are intricate and intoxicating.

"May I have the honour of tasting you?"

"Yes," You consent, breathless already.

You remove your trousers and underwear in the same movement and allow Morpheus to adjust your position.

The image of him looking up at you with lust and intent as he parts your legs is immediately imprinted deep within your memories.

He trails innocent kisses up your left calf to your knee. A long-fingered hand is hooked under it and once Morpheus slips your leg over his shoulder, he continues his path along your inner thigh.

Wisps of his midnight hair tickle your skin and make you squirm in the most delicious way. You whimper when you feel his cool breath hit your pulsing core.

Morpheus speaks your name reverently, a taster of what was about to come.

He leans in the last few inches and kisses your vulva. You melt with an ecstasy-filled exhale. His tongue gently licks at your labia, encouraging them to part and expose your clit. He laps at you with precise strokes before sealing his mouth over the nub.

It's like a direct current has been shot into your body; you jolt into him, moaning his name with abandon.

He hums against you, lips curling into a naughty smirk. You are completely at his mercy and he knows it all too well.

He manipulates your clit between his plush lips and the pleasure reaches a higher ground.

"Whatever you do, please don't stop," You beg.

Morpheus obeys, slowly increasing and decreasing the pressure of his suckling until you are almost unable to think clearly anymore.

Then, suddenly, you are distracted by a strange feeling radiating through your body. You recognise it with immediacy. It's like you are being dragged upwards by a marionette string. You are waking up.

You stiffen, falling silent, hoping above all hope that if you stay still, you can stave off the pull back to consciousness.

Morpheus, noticing your change in demeanour, stops his attentions and pulls away.

He speaks your name in a caring tone. "Are you alright?"

You grab the arm rests in a further attempt to keep yourself in the Dreaming. The sensation isn't letting up.

You respond with haste, "I think I'm waking up. I don't think I can stop it."

Waking had been the cause of cutting short your time with Morpheus many times before. It was to be expected; you were a human being with things like sunlight and birdsong and routines to contend with. The worst had been mid-way through a conversation, one that you were able to pick up again the next time you passed the Dreaming threshold.

Right here while Morpheus was working on you so perfectly, however left you with one thought: Why did it have to be now?

Your surroundings flicker and all sound becomes warped. The support of Morpheus' body and the chair vanish.

"I'm sorry." They are the last words you speak before you disappear.

You come to in the semi-darkness of your bedroom. Your chest is heaving and wetness has spilled onto your pyjamas from the dream of Morpheus lavishing your aroused core.

Your phone is blasting out a morning alarm, its shrillness the clear root of you disappearing on him.

It turns out though, initially unknown to you, that Morpheus was having none of this separation business. That is until you notice him sitting between your splayed legs.

"Morpheus?! What are you -"

"You asked me not to stop, my dearest dreamer," He interrupts, pouring every ounce of seductive energy into the words as he can muster.

Morpheus' eyes bore into yours as he climbs up to fully straddle your body. He reaches over you to turn off the alarm with a precise tap on the screen of your phone. He takes a deep breath.

"Much better," He purrs. The pitch of his voice is pleasure enough on its own, even without the fact that his hips are subtly grinding against yours.

"Now, would you like to resume with what we were doing before we were so rudely interrupted by that repugnant tone?"

You nod.

"Verbal consent, please."

It's suddenly so hard to speak now he is in your bedroom, your domain. You hope that a clear display will be an acceptable alternative. You reach your hands down to rid yourself of your pyjamas only to have each wrist pinned either side of your head.

You gasp.

"I need to hear you say it out loud, Y/N."

Another wave of hot, stifling arousal is released between your legs. You shiver in reaction to it, to his dominance.

Your mouth is open but no coherent words leave it, just the starts of failed sentences. Morpheus comes to your aid:

"Will you allow me to taste you here, in the waking world, just as I did in my own realm?"

"Yes," You breathe. "Yes, Morpheus. Please. Put your mouth on me."

He hums his approval before lowering your shorts and beginning to feast on you once more.

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Tag List: @herfantasyworldd @shadowqueen1318

#morpheus x reader #morpheus/dream x reader #dream of the endless #dream of the endless x reader #dream x reader

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ellooo0ooo · 6 months

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🕷️🕷️🕷️

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ellooo0ooo · 6 months

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(◡‿◡✿)

(ʘ‿ʘ✿) “what you say ‘bout me”

(ʘ‿ʘ)ノ✿ “hold my flower”

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ellooo0ooo · 6 months

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Kinktober 26

26. Tentacles, Demons/Angels, Crying

You love it when they get their wings out.

It’s such a quiet affectionate thing, a little secret only the three of you share. Especially because both of them go absolutely feral when you dig your hands in their feathers. It’s so delicious to know what drives them wild, and be allowed to touch them so intimately.

At the moment you’re between them on the bed. You’re kneeling, cushioned by the soft duvet, and they’ve enclosed around either side of you. Their wings are out in a deferential and protective cocoon. Here, trapped between their gorgeous bodies, it feels like you’re the only three people in the world.

You kiss Aziraphale as Crowley lines up and presses inside of you. You hum against your angel’s lips as your demon begins to thrust, the head of his cock grazing over and over against that sweet spot delicious nestled in your velvety walls. He drops his lips to your shoulder; you can feel him mouthing ‘fuck’ and ‘i love you’ without him even having to raise his voice.

You reach out and caress one of his primaries. You feel his breath hitch, his Adam's apple bob against your skin. The feather is silky against your fingertips. You skim up and down it and watch the way his wings bristle in anticipation as you get a little higher with each stroke. Finally you touch his alula, and his knees threaten to give out.

“Oh, fuck me, nightingale–”

It seems like a funny pet name to have at this precise moment, but you’ve come to love it all the same. Aziraphale smiles adoringly at the two of you, as you slowly creep Crowley towards the edge. He cups your face in one of his hands, uses his other to guide the blunt head of his cock towards your hole too. It takes a bit of shifting and a delicious stretch to fit both of them inside but god is it worth it.

“There we are, darling,” he mutters, voice thick with lust as he starts to give gentle thrusts inside you. His cock nudges Crowley’s and, between your fingers in his wing and the feeling of his lovers against and around him, you feel your demon release in hot spurts inside you. You feel it dripping out of you, sinfully, onto the bedsheets.

Aziraphale keeps fucking you from where he has you held as Crowley collapses against your back, boneless and spent - you move your caressing touch to the angel’s wings now. He gasps and groans as you walk them across his shoulder blade and along to his scapula.

“There we go,” you chuckle, gently scratching the little downy feathers there. They’re so fluffy and sweet - a stark contrast to the rest of his wing which is solidly built and powerful. You scratch affectionately until you feel the soft skin beneath.

“Oh gosh, oh…” he moans, fucking up inside you in time with your strokes. His wings begin to shudder involuntarily as you massage them and then, suddenly, flip out to their full length as he comes. He knocks a couple of lamps off their shelves but, honestly, you can fix those later. The feeling of their combined orgasms is enough to beckon your own and the three of you collapse into the bed, sated, interlocked, and loving.

@bootlmoth @elleofdragons @angelic-anarchy27 @yeethaw13 @candlewitch-cryptic @kwyn-q @rat-that-writes @buryustogether @letthenightingalessingagain @ltlthetrifecta @angiestopit @purplefrog1sblog @wereallbrokenangels @angelspathway @clarina04 @belilwen @chaospossum @eightsdoctor @oo-delallymrcrow @silcosmoke @climbingivy97 @live-logs-and-proper @project-sad @just-a-beatlemaniac69 @imagination-phantom @anonymously35 @corgis04 @peytonpenguin37 @catlynharper @unabashedgentlemenpirate @wolfe-houler

@darktealrat @mxxny-lupin @willbedecided @detectiveapparatiagreen @shadowluna25 @kaylinelizabeth4004 @xquinn-bartonx @blue-bell22 @foolishprincipalitee @fandomawesomeness @eweweweewewe @latersgaters-steven @llamaproblem @night-affiliate @randompost18 @hunterispunk @jessica-laufeysdottir @uxcaran @bunnymallowo @jae-michael @jelly-terror @larkiesparkie

#aziraphale x reader x crowley #crowley x reader x aziraphale

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ellooo0ooo · 6 months

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The Fall - Chapter I

Pairing: Manipulative!Dom!Loki x Sub!fem!Reader

This work is set in an AU.

Words: ~2,400

Summary: A chance encounter at the grocery store has you second guessing yourself and well, everything else.

This is work of fiction is 18+!!!!, and contains graphic descriptions of rough sex, manipulation, sadism, Loki who likes to see you cry, a dom/sub dynamic, a broken reader with family issues, cigarette smoking. Please do not interact if you are a minor or are sensitive towards any of the themes mentioned above.

~~~

It really was a bad fucking day.

The exaggeratedly bad type of day that was reserved for shitty romcoms or late-night comedies, the ones that made your stomach curl. Everything that could go wrong did.

And so here you were, feeling sorry for yourself as you vacantly stared at the neatly stacked ice cream containers behind the glass. You rubbed your eyes and caught a glimpse of someone in the reflection, flinching with a start.

It took you a moment to recognise her - that girl. The one that showed up when you were at your lowest. That girl that looked so much like you, but without the mask. The mask that made you a functioning member of society, that got you jobs, friends, and dates. You looked at this girl, the one with tears in her eyes wrapped in a men’s coat four sizes too big for her and wondered when exactly she’d come into existence. It seemed she’d always been there, growing as her parents did their very best to do their absolute worst.

You blinked again, sighing at your reflection before turning around, vacant stare now aimed at the boxes of crackers behind you. You weren’t hungry - not really. Your feet had just carried you to your car, so you drove yourself here, as if a 1AM visit to the grocery store would fix things.

Blinking away the fresh tears, you grabbed a box of Cheez-Its off the shelf and turned, your bleary eyes meeting those of the stranger at the end of the aisle.

Something in his stare stopped you, pinned you in place. His expression was neutral, but something in that blue-green told you to turn around and run, though your clever feet had seemingly retired for the evening.

You could tell he was handsome, though you didn’t lift your gaze from his. You felt as if he’d somehow stripped you bare, easily seeing all you desperately tried to hide.

You opened your mouth to speak, though you hadn’t the slightest idea of what to say. His eyes flickered down to the box in your hand before snapping back to your own and a second later he carried on, walking past the aisle to the next.

You stood there on uneasy legs, a frown tugging at your features. What the fuck was that?

You shivered, your heart racing, the frown deepening when you felt heat pooling between your legs. You looked to the box of Cheez-Its, then back to where he stood. No, really. What the fuck was that?

You weren’t one to make eye contact in public, especially not when you were alone, learning young of the attention it brought. But something in the way he’d looked at you made you want it - want him to look at you again.

You stopped yourself from following him, shaking your head as you walked to the front of the store. It was 1AM and you were alone in a deserted grocery store. What the hell are you doing?

Your eyes cleared a little as you made your way to the checkout counter, the stranger filling your thoughts. The only clerk working was a teenage boy, who rung up your box and gave you your total in a monotone drawl. You asked for a pack of cigarettes as well, thumbing the lighter in your pocket.

“ID?” He asked, blinking slowly at you.

“Fuck,” you mumbled, feeling around in your pockets for your wallet. You’d left the house with a $20 bill crumpled in the top pocket of the giant fishing coat you donned. “I don’t have it on me.”

He shrugged, looking back at you. “Manager’s really up my ass lately. Can’t give them to you without ID. Sorry,” he shrugged again, taking the crumpled bill from you as the register opened.

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath as you did your very best not to cry in front of this poor kid. Taking the box and pocketing the change, you walked out through the sliding doors and into the night.

Making it to your car, you pulled the keys from your pocket, the box in your other hand. You swore as the keychain slipped from your fingers, skidding against the pavement and under the only other car in the lot- parked just a spot away.

“Fuck,” you groaned, debating on whether or not to just leave them and walk home. Sighing, you got on your hands and knees, spotting the mass of keys right between the tires. You tried to reach but felt nothing, the gravel stinging against your kneecaps. You found the tears started to fall again, the day catching back up with you.

You sniffed, reaching under the car again, the keys still just out of your grasp. You sat up on your knees, shivering as you thought of what to do. You must’ve sat there for a solid minute or two, your knees aching as you wiped tear after tear from your heated skin.

“Here.” You jumped at the sound of a man’s voice, looking up to see him standing above you, your keyring hooked on his finger. He wore the same expression as before, though his eyes looked darker in the low light.

“Oh,” you sniffed again and stood, taking the keyring from him. You brushed some of the gravel off your knees, wiping another tear away with the back of your hand. “Sorry.”

You turned to leave, embarrassed, when you felt his hand against your shoulder. You looked to him, your breath catching once more as he looked down at you, his stare more intense than before.

“Your biscuits,” he said, the little smirk curling at the corner of his lip making you feel better and worse at the same time. You looked down, seeing the box at your feet. He withdrew his hand as you bent to pick it up.

“Right,” you mumbled.

“You want one?” He asked, pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his pants pocket.

You looked at his outstretched hand, the long fingers steady. Looking back to his face, the little smirk was gone. You reached out with a shaky hand, sliding a cigarette from the pack. He put one between his lips and swiftly lit it, holding out his lighter to you.

“Thank you,” you lit the cigarette then handed him back his lighter. He took it, fingers brushing yours, though his eyes were trained on the highway across the street. You stood beside him in silence, the sound of a passing car filling the air every few seconds.

“You’re pretty when you cry.” He’d turned to look at you as he’d said it, though you kept your eyes trained on the highway.

“T-thanks,” you sniffed, glancing up at him, heart racing as he looked down at you with that intensity again. You swallowed.

He held your gaze as he reached up, the tips of his fingers lightly touching your jaw as his thumb brushed away a tear. His eyes fell to your lips as you wet them, you could feel they were puffy as a result of your crying. Before your brain could catch up with his movements he’d withdrawn, pulling the cigarette from his lips to extinguish it beneath a boot.

“I’m not always like this,” you said, his gaze lifting to meet yours.

He quirked an eyebrow as he studied your face.

You shifted on your feet. “I’m usually better- normal.”

He smirked, turning to open his car door. “Of course you are.” He slid inside, turning on the engine before pulling out of the empty lot, the vehicle’s acceleration loud once it hit the highway.

You stared off in the direction he’d gone, wondering if that had really just happened. A shiver tore through you as you remembered the feel of his touch against your skin.

You should have been outraged, or at the very least disturbed at the intimacy of the action, but all you could think of was how desperately you wanted it to happen again.

You took one last drag off your cigarette and ducked into your front seat, peeling off the other way.

~~~

Looking in the mirror, you adjusted your skirt before leaning forward to swipe a thumb at your eyeliner. Leaning backwards you but your lip, sticky with gloss as your heart hammered in your chest.

You looked at your phone to check the time, letting out a shaky breath as you made for the door.

The drive was quick, one you’d become familiar with over the past week as you visited in the dead of night. Your sick little ritual performed in the hopes of seeing him again. Pulling up to the lot, your heart leapt to your throat when you saw his car, the black expensive one, parked neatly near the front of the darkened deserted pavement.

You parked a row back, locking your door as you walked quickly to the entrance. You shivered as the blast of air conditioning met your skin, eliciting goosebumps over your exposed arms. You bit your lip, deciding to take the long walk to the back aisle of the store.

You stepped slowly, shoes clicking off the scuffed linoleum as you kept your gaze forward, using your peripherals to see within the aisles. You couldn’t help the little gasp that slipped from your lips when you caught sight of his lithe, dark figure. You could feel his gaze on you as you passed by, continuing on without a glance in his direction until you made it to the laundry detergent in the next aisle. Picking up a small jug, you made your way to the cash, paying for your purchase along with a pack of cigarettes and a lighter.

You leant against your car, lighting up a cigarette. Taking one nervous drag after another, you finished it and pulled the carton back out, slipping a fresh one from the pack. Your eyes drifted to the sliding doors as they opened.

You lit it up, watching him walk to his car. He glanced at you casually, opening his trunk for the bag in his hand.

You bit your lip, pushing yourself off the cool metal before making your way to him. “Hey,” you called out, walking closer.

He looked at you, that same gaze stripping you bare once more, making your fingers tremble around the cigarette.

“I-I was here the other night,” you came closer, your heart pounding as you took in his handsome features. He was at least twice your age. “I wanted to say thanks,” you offered him a cigarette. “I was having a rough night.”

He glanced at your hand before taking it from you. “I remember.”

You nodded as he lit it up, taking a drag.

“Is there something you want?”

You opened your mouth, then shut it, unsure of what to say. What did you want from him?

There was that stare again. “How many times did you come to the grocery store at 1 in the morning this week?”

Your eyes widened.

He took a step closer. “The clerk inside told me you’d been by every night. Is that right?”

You found yourself nodding, the rest of you frozen in place.

“And what were you looking for?”

You swallowed.

He waited.

“You,” you called out, the small sound of your own voice surprising you.

“And what is it that you want from me?”

“I don’t know,” it was a whimper - barely audible over the sound of a passing car.

He didn’t say a word, simply pulling a phone from his back pocket. He handed it to you, opened to the new contact creator.

You took it in your shaky hands, typing out your name and number before passing it back to him, his fingertips grazing yours.

He put the phone back in his pocket. “You shouldn’t be hanging around here this late,” he put out his cigarette. “It isn’t safe.”

You nodded.

He slid into the drivers seat and pulled off, leaving you speechless and alone once again.

~~~

It was a week before he texted you.

The first two days any notification you got made you scramble for your phone, heart pounding, only to be disappointed yet again.

On the third day you started to lose hope, and wondered if you should go back to the grocery store. He’d told you not to - but what if that only meant he’d actually wanted you to? What if it was all a test?

After sitting in your car in the driveway for an hour you decided to go to bed with a huff, only to do the exact same thing the night after.

On the fifth day you did your best to push him from your mind - to stop the image of his face from popping up each time you closed your eyes. It didn’t work, so you spent the night awake, watching horror movies as you attempted to force him from your thoughts with blood and gore.

The sixth day you drove past the grocery store at 1:03 AM, not seeing his car there as your heart sank in your chest.

Then the seventh day came. And at eight o’clock on a Sunday you got a text, prompting you to lazily reach for your phone. You sat up straight when you saw the unknown number.

Have you figured it out yet?

Figured out what? You responded in seconds, cursing yourself for not playing it cool.

What you want from me.

Your heart raced as you reread the words, trying to think up a witty response. Only one thing echoed in your thoughts, and you found yourself typing it out, and staring at the words.

I want you to pay attention to me.

Before you could overthink it you hit send and closed your phone, throwing it to the other end of the couch. The soft ping made you reach for it, your heart in your throat.

What are you willing to do for my attention?

You swallowed, staring at the words. A normal person wouldn’t respond, recognising that statement for what it was. A red flag. A huge one at that. You knew what he was asking for, and yet you typed out a response, quickly hitting send.

Anything.

You watched the three dots at the bottom of the screen.

Let’s get dinner.

~~~

To be continued...

~~~

Author's Note: Ok ok ok so this is very loosely based off of this one-off interaction I had at a grocery store (years ago), as well as a somewhat popular account on here that I am both fascinated and disgusted with at the same time. Reader is in for a sketchy time...

Thank you so much for checking out my latest work. A new chapter of Tear You Apart is coming soon.

And thank you to all of my followers for your continued support during my hiatus 🖤

As usual, likes, reblogs, and comments are always immensely appreciated. 🖤 🖤

#dark!loki #dark loki x reader #loki x reader #loki x reader smut

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ellooo0ooo · 6 months

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Nightfall (3)

Vampire! Billy Russo x Female Reader

Part 1 // Part 2

Warnings: Bickering, spanking, biting, consumption of blood, oral (M receiving), implication of dark themes (such as the buying/selling of humans for blood), reader goes undercover as Billy's 'pet'.

A/N: Overall, the themes are a little darker than I tend to write. I'll try my best to be as honest as possible with the warnings.

You shove him back, hand wrapping around his throat as if you could ever conceive of doing any real damage to him. His expression is blank, eyes pinned calmly on you.

"You filthy fucking bloodsucker." You hiss out through your teeth, contemplating the actions it would take to bury a stake into his heart.

"Keep talking. Makes me hard." He sneers.

You almost consider spitting in his face. He'd had the nerve to describe exactly how he'd buried his hand into Ethan's chest not a minute after you'd driven away from him last night.

"He was my friend." You grit out, hand tightening on the column of his throat, you reach for the dull knife on the coffee table beside you, bringing it up to his neck.

"Planning to tickle me with that?" He taunts as you shove him further back, until your full weight is propped onto the hand pressed around his neck, your thigh pressed right between his, forcing you to straddle his leg.

Unbelievably, you feel his hand grip your hips, holding you securely in place as if he wants you as close to him as possible.

"I can do some real damage with this." You warn, voice low and enraged, trailing the knife slowly down the column of his throat, "Don't you know dull knives hurt more?"

His lips part, his chest drops a little as if the breath in his lungs has escaped him.

"The only thing hurting me," he whispers, "Is that you're not naked."

You take the time to press the tip of the dull knife into his skin. It would take a lot more force to puncture his neck, but doing so meant you could shred his throat easily. You wonder if that would even slow him down.

Your mouth curls in disgust, pulling away from him and sliding off his body quickly. You ignore the little wet spot your cunt has left behind on his pants, still being dressed in just his shirt.

There’s a tense moment of silence, the smell of delicious chinese food in the air- he’d ordered it for you while you were asleep so that there would be food available for you not long after waking. You’d only been a few bites in when you’d asked about the last time he’d fed, and he’d revealed to you what you’d already known was true, that he’d left Ethan’s body in a dumpster, missing a heart.

“You’re sick.” You whisper, facing away from him. Ethan had been trained alongside you, saved your life just as much as you’d saved his, and Billy had killed him because he’d dared to touch you.

You feel Billy behind you now, not worrying to think about how fast he’d just moved.

You huff when you feel his hands glide over either side of your hips, fingers twitching as he holds you firm.

You try your hardest to hate it, to feel disgusted by his cold hands on you, but all you feel is flutters, in your chest, your stomach, and somewhere lower.

“From the minute I put my hands on you, I knew you were mine.” He says. You squeeze your eyes shut, mentally rejecting the words.

“I know you can feel it, the way I do when I’m not near you,” he continues, drawing closer till his voice is just in your ear, “Like there’s no air in the room, unless you’re here.”

“You’re deranged.” You gasp out, feeling his hands tighten on your hips.

“You call that boy your friend, but you forget that I saw the whole thing. You didn’t want him touching you, and he did anyway. Is that not a good enough reason to tear his heart out of his chest?”

“He touched me. Not you. It was my situation to handle.” You retort.

He’s silent for a long moment.

“You’re right. I let my anger get the best of me.”

“Thank you.”

He pulls you back suddenly, till you’re pressed against his front securely, his nose running gently against your neck, one of his hands rise to tug your shirt collar down, till his face is pressed to the scar of his bite on your shoulder.

“Don’t mishear me. I’m not saying I’m sorry. Believe it or not, but I’ve been in that position, and I guarantee you, that if it’s not you, it’s someone else.”

You feel him kiss your scar, tingles spreading over your body. You’re deep in your own thoughts, thinking about his words.

“You’ve been in that position?” You echo his words, mind fuzzy with his attention.

“Mhm,” He hums, open mouthed kisses roaming your neck, “Wasn’t as strong as you either. It’s why I’ll always stand up for those who can’t stand up for themselves.”

You suck in a deep breath.

“But you’re a vampire.”

He spins you around, arms gripping your shoulder, eyebrows pulled together.

“You’re still thinking like that?” He utters in disbelief.

“Well, you haven’t really given me anything else to work with.”

He huffs, taking your hands in his and pulling you back to the couch.

“Okay, come, let me explain.”

You follow easily, and when you try to sit beside him, he eagerly pulls you into his lap. You huff, rolling your eyes as you try not to grind your wet centre against his thigh. He watches you, as if he can hear every thought.

“Believe it or not, vampires are very much like people. There are good, and there are bad.”

When you open your mouth to voice your opinion, he grabs the back of your head quickly, pulling you into him to lay a scalding kiss against your lips. His body might be cool to the touch, but he makes you sizzle anyway.

Heavens, he kisses like sin, plump lips owning whatever parts of yourself were still unclaimed, now his fully.

“Why don’t you let me finish, and then you can ask your questions.” He suggests, forehead pressed to yours.

A smarter side of you would argue, protesting his need to feed you what was most likely a lie.

You swallow, nodding your head hesitantly, feeling your body heat up with the memory of the things he'd done to you last night.

You look away from him, trying to get your thoughts together.

"We don't have to, I can always just lay you back right here and lick you to my heart's content."

You groan, clenching around nothing, acutely aware that being this close to him is making your head spin.

"Shut up and talk, Billy." You say with a pained hint in your voice.

He raises his eyebrows, his lips pulling into a slow grin. Thankfully he doesn't comment on your contrasting words.

"Okay, so as I was saying, from a moral perspective, vampires aren't that much different compared to humans. Realistically, if we killed someone every time we fed, more people would know about us."

"That's still a parasitic existence."

"The next time you interrupt I'm going to spank you."

You groan, clenching around nothing for a second time.

He explains it to you like you're a child, carefully arguing that the creatures of the night weren't all monsters, that they were a still budding society trying to figure out the logistics of existing.

"You sound like children." You interject.

Billy doesn't hesitate to draw his hand back and slap your thigh, watching you hiss in pain, that then quietly bleeds into pleasure, to your embarrassment.

"For most of human history, the number of vampires have only been in the hundreds. Now, we might have hit only a couple of thousand. The number of people that humans have killed vastly outweighs the number of vampires that exist and you still want to accuse us? Can't you see that the way you've been taught to think about us is flawed?"

You huff.

"Why is it so important that I believe what you say?" You ask, and it earns you another loud smack to the curve of your ass. You shut your eyes for a moment to fight the urge to rut your hips on his thigh.

"I'm trying to show you who the real monsters are. The ones that hide in the shadows and pull the strings, the ones that sell their own kind to the highest bidder of ours. These are people you should be hunting, little girl, not the fledglings that want to dance in clubs and feed from unsuspecting humans."

You open your eyes, blinking at him.

"You're saying there's something bigger at play?"

His hand comes down on your other asscheek. He grins when you glare at him.

"Yes. Your organisation trained you to kill the first vampire you see, making us all out to be monsters, but it's just not that simple. I can show the real monsters if you want, and let you-"

He cuts off, and after a second, he grins at you.

You look at him quizzically.

"You're so wet, I can feel it soaking through my jeans."

A low groan of annoyance leaves you, and you raise your hips, in an attempt to get off of him.

He’s not having it, gripping your hips firmly and pulling you back onto his thigh. When you struggle, his arms wrap around you, bringing you even closer, one hand settling low on your back, and then tugging your shirt up to grip your ass tightly. He holds you in place till you find that you are unable to even move an inch.

You study him intently as heat flushes through your system, eyes tracing the scars that line his face.

His eyes are dark, decisive, your eyes flit down to his lips, the sweet curve of them making your tongue feel heavy in your mouth. The shape of his beard urging you to rub yourself against him, the memory of his mouth between your thighs coming to mind.

You let out a slow breath.

“As I was saying, I can show you the real monsters,” He says softly, the air growing charged between you, “And let you decide what you want for yourself.”

You could barely remember why you were even fighting him, the magnetism of his form was too strong for you to resist.

“I’ll think about it.” You whisper, tilting your head to the side, and leaning into him slowly.

At the very last moment before your lips touch, you pause.

“Wait.” You whisper, pulling back.

You feel his hands tighten around you.

“What?” He bites out, lips parted so you can see just the smallest hint of his fangs.

You try to ignore his snippy attitude, and resist rolling your eyes lest it get you into more trouble.

“The thing you said… about choosing mates? What’s that about?”

You watch his lips part, to take a slow breath in.

“It’s something vampires do. Sort of, like an imprint- a voluntary imprint.”

You blink at him, horror washing through your body.

“You- imprinted on me… willingly?” You try to draw away from him, and he resists your movement, hand tightening on your bare ass subtly.

It brings you back to where you are, half naked on his lap.

“Yes.” He grits out, “When I first tasted you, I claimed you as mine.”

You fight him harder now, pushing against his chest.

“Claimed me? Don’t I get a choice?”

Billy huffs.

“You came up to me in that club- or don’t you remember?” He says, and you can see the clear anger in his features.

“You didn’t even know me!” You protest, finally getting enough leverage to wiggle out of his lap and to a stand on shaky legs.

He grits his teeth, tilting his head and watching you move away from him.

“The imprint might be voluntary, but it doesn’t work unless we’re compatible.”

“You’re sick.” You respond quickly, not even thinking.

He closes his eyes slowly, rolls his neck. You worry for a moment that his need for you has just expired.

Would he kill you? If he didn’t get what he wanted from you?

You swallow, eyeing him steadily.

He stands, walking past you without a second glance.

“Eat. I’ll take you hunting tonight.”

“Wh- what if I want to leave?” You ask softly.

He stops at the doorway, looks down before turning his head to the side. You study the scar on his cheek.

“They’ll kill you if they catch you, just to get to me. And if they hurt you, I’ll scatter their body parts across the state.”

You gulp at the imagery.

It was more irritating to you that he was giving you space.

He’d gone from keeping you in his arms, to not touching you at all and it made you seethe with all the hatred you had for him.

You hadn’t left- because you knew your organisation, and you knew Billy was right. They’d try to kill you the second they found you, if only to prove a point. Especially now that you knew for sure that Ethan was dead.

You pause while applying your mascara, sucking in a deep breath. Someone had dropped off a small duffel bag of supplies for you at the door, and Billy had slid it into your hands, telling you to get ready, you’d be going out in an hour.

He’s checking his watch when you emerge from the bathroom, dressed in jeans that fit you surprisingly well and a baby pink crop top.

His eyes scour your frame, face stoic as he makes his assessment.

“Ready?” He asks.

You only nod.

The heat of the club was familiar to you, an abundance of bodies so close together in one small space, moving under the soft neon lights.

You’re following his large frame, trying to keep an eye on the olive shirt wrapped around his shoulders, fighting each dirty thought about him that crosses your mind.

He’d looked good, to your annoyance, and you were wondering how long it would take for him to touch you again.

The answer was not very long at all, because when the crowd gets too dense, he reaches behind, extending a hand for you to take.

His hand is rough in yours, cool to the touch, undead and owning it and you feel your heartbeat kick up at the casual way his hand grips yours.

You didn’t like him, definitely not.

You weren’t too distracted by him to notice some of the other vampires in the club. You catch them in your peripheral vision, eyeing you both up, no doubt your scent packing a metaphorical punch to anyone with an advanced sense of smell.

"Easy baby," Billy whispers into your ear, fully knowing that anyone could be listening in on your conversation, his hand smoothing over your shoulder and down to the small of your back.

"We'll have our fun soon enough." He continues, his voice in your ear sending sharp waves of want down your spine.

If he notices your response to him, he doesn't show it, simply guiding you to an open seat at a secluded booth in the club.

He'd briefed you in the car on the way here, explaining that the objective was to be invited into the back rooms where the questionable conversations happened. All he’d been hoping for, was an idea of where the location for the next big meeting might be.

“The real shady conversations don’t happen in nightclubs, they happen in the back rooms of libraries or secluded five star restaurants that cater to our specific… diet.” Billy had explained.

That had made your stomach twist into knots at the idea that there really was something worse at play, made you want to do anything possible to put a dent in it.

He sits at the booth, and like you’d discussed in the car, you sit quietly beside him, body stirring with thoughts of what he’d said he’d do next.

“I’ll put you on my lap, I need them to think you’re my pretty pet. They’ll do anything to try to convince me to share you.”

When he pats his thigh, you do what you know he wants you to. You move slowly, crawling into his lap, straddling his hips.

It brings you face to face with him, and there’s something of a silent conversation going on between you.

Though his hands are on you, gripping your body tightly, and very inappropriately for anyone to see, there’s a distance to the expression on his face that stings.

You study his scars, his eyes closing when your noses brush.

You think about the imprint he’d confessed to. You wonder what it really meant, that maybe you weren’t at his mercy as much as you’d initially thought.

After a moment, you roll your hips against his, body igniting when you manage to feel hints of his thick erection through your layers of clothing.

He pins you with his red eyes.

It sends ripples of pleasure through you.

You didn’t know what you wanted, not even sure if it was him, with his sharp jawline and thick hair, and the scars that sit on his face, someone’s attempt at making him less beautiful gone awry.

All you knew, that in this moment, you were searching for a higher purpose, a reason for being in your current position that wasn’t just because of him. Because what kind of person would that make you? If you genuinely enjoyed being with him after the things he’s done?

After a long moment of looking into each other’s eyes, he takes a deep breath, gripping the back of your neck to bring you closer so that his lips brush your ear.

“I can smell how wet you are. Is that all for me?”

He’d know if you were lying anyway.

“Yes,” you whisper, “I need you.”

He hums, the sound goes down, all the way to your aching clit.

“If only you’d worn a skirt,” Billy continues, “I could have had my cock inside you from the minute we sat down.”

You don’t suppress your reaction, sighing in need, clenching hard around nothing.

Although this was just a performance, you realise it’s not so hard to actually act.

You pull back a little, so you can look down at his mouth. You clench again at the memory of sitting on his face.

His fingers tighten on the back of your neck, warning you that someone is approaching, your debauched act finally prompting someone to come near.

“Pardon me,” The feminine voice says- a vampire you realise- and you resist looking over at her, “but I couldn’t help but overhear your problem, and would like to extend an invitation to our basement lounge to you.”

Billy pauses, seeming to ponder her words, you attempt to ‘encourage’ him by leaning in to place kisses on the smooth column of his neck.

You feel his hand tighten on the back of your own neck imperceptibly.

“Private rooms?” He asks.

You both already know the answer before she says it.

“Not completely, but more private than this.” She says, no doubt pointing out the wide open area of the dancefloor where anyone could see the both of you.

“I’m not sure if I’m interested.” Billy responds, making sure he doesn’t look too eager to follow her.

You keep kissing his neck, running your tongue up to his earlobe before continuing your kisses, feeling the vibration as the woman slides in beside Billy.

You pause for a second, looking over at the woman, makeup done perfectly, brunette hair falling gracefully as she moves, before Billy turns your head away, a silent urge that as his pet, his conversation was none of your business.

He’d warned you about it before, that people would speak about you like you weren’t there and playing along was necessary. You could do that, you’d played hundreds of roles before when hunting, this was just another character.

The character you were playing right now, was an empty, aching little hole. Someone eager and willing to go along with anything her partner says as long as it made him happy and got her ache satiated at the end of the night. You’d pulled inspiration from your own life for this role.

“She smells so sweet.” The woman says, to Billy in a soft voice, “Surely you don’t want to enjoy her here out in the open where you can get interrupted.”

“And I’m sure that following you is going to have a price of its own.” Billy murmurs, and you squirm on his lap a little to give off an air of impatience.

Despite your aversion to him, you’re forced to admit to yourself that you enjoy sitting in his lap. This role of needy girl coming naturally to you, because you wanted, and you wanted and you wanted him to give.

“Honestly, I’d love a little taste.” The woman confesses.

“Hear that, pet?” Billy hums, fingers sliding into your hair to pull your head back so that your eyes meet his, “This one wants a taste. What do you think?”

You think she’d look nice with a stake buried in her chest.

You flutter your eyes, giving him the look of eager obedience.

“Whatever you want, sir.” You mumble.

Billy’s dark eyes give nothing away.

“Perhaps I can share a mouthful with you, but on my terms.” He says, and you smile as he continues to look into your eyes.

He’d also warned you that he might have to bite you at some point. He promised he wouldn’t let anyone else.

You trusted him. You could see it in his eyes, that maybe the idea of letting someone else touch you had been out of the question from the very start.

“We have a deal.” The woman says, standing easily, and waiting for Billy to follow.

You’re wobbly on your legs, too drunk on your own lust for him, the way he holds your hand, silently pulling you along.

You almost forget the real reason you were here, lost in wondering how he would take care of you later tonight if you’d let him.

On the way down, the woman introduces herself as Petra, Billy gives his name, and no one even mentions you. It makes you a little irritated, that you were being treated as that much of an object, but it didn’t really surprise you. They were vampires after all.

You don’t ask where you’re going, following easily, memorising every hallway and door, making a mental map in your head.

She guides you down a flight of stairs, so narrow that Billy’s shoulders brush the sides of either wall. At the bottom, is a short hallway that stops at an iron door.

Three sharp knocks, and the door cracks open.

You can feel the pulse of the music, emphasised by the lighting in the room, it’s like a dull thrumming, echoing the need inside of you, much slower and more erotic than whatever is playing in the club upstairs.

Inside is like a large cavern, the walls give off an impression of being somewhere underground, with rough rock walls and lighting fixtures jutting out.

The room is filled with secluded booths, sheer drapes to hide the bodies within, the low light accentuating the writhing figures of people dancing inside, no doubt putting on a show for their partners.

“Nice place.” Billy says, he doesn’t scan the area like you do, using senses beyond your comprehension to make his observations. He gives six squeezes to your hand- one per vampire in the room.

Six, if you had to fight your way out, things would be a little complicated.

Billy slides into the booth easily, his fingers still laced with yours, guiding you. When he sits, you settle beside him. Almost instantly, his hands are on your hips, pulling you onto his lap, making you straddle him.

You look down, feeling a little vulnerable in this position, arousal settling warmly in the spot between your legs.

“She smells divine,” Petra hums, interrupting your debauched thoughts, sitting in the booth at a respectful distance away, “You promised me a taste.” She reminds him.

“Of course.” Billy says, but when she inches toward you, he raises his hand to stop her from moving any closer.

His hand smooths over the top of your head, your eyelids fluttering at his attempt to calm you, he grips your chin gently, tilting your head to the side.

You close your eyes, your neck tingles, your mind preparing itself for the pain of it.

There’s no fear, just acceptance. You’re almost eager, from the last time he promised he’d bite you.

He takes a deep breath at the crook of your neck, hands wandering to your backside to keep you still.

You try to relax your body as much as possible, knowing that resistance made it hurt more.

His tongue glides over your neck, and then his fangs press against your skin.

Billy somehow manages to find a way to be gentle about it, he presses in fast, keeping steady as his fangs penetrate your neck.

Delight floods your system for a moment, sparking through your body from where his mouth is latched to your neck. You can’t help the small hum of surprise that leaves your throat. Surely, bites weren’t supposed to feel this good?

It pinches next, and then it stings. You close your eyes and breathe through it, experiencing the pain, letting it move through every cell of your body.

Then, the throbbing begins.

Your neck pulses, as if your body’s suddenly noticed that it’s been breached, and is trying to process the intrusion.

You whimper in pain when he raises his head, freeing his teeth from your skin, the most painful part in your opinion.

His mouth remains latched to your neck, you feel him take one big mouthful of your blood, and swallows. His grip tightens on your ass and you can only imagine what you taste like to him. He only pulls away after he takes a second mouthful.

You watch, peeking through your closed eyelids, as he beckons Petra closer, his fingers under her chin as he seals his mouth to hers.

Something ugly rears its head inside of you. An anger that wasn’t there before, burning as you watch their lips lock, as he shares your blood with her.

She moans into his mouth, pressing forward, and you watch, with blood trickling from your open wound, as she glides her tongue into his mouth.

All you can feel is hate. When he finally pulls away after what felt like hours of watching them kiss, she chases his mouth, but he braces one arm on her shoulder to stop her.

You couldn’t figure out why you were so upset, it wasn’t like… like you wanted him. Right?

“I need more.” She says, leaning in, now red eyes flitting to you, and to the blood dripping slowly from your neck.

Billy keeps her at bay, glancing at you for a moment.

“Pet,” he says easily, moving his hand off your ass and fishing in his pocket for a hankerchief to present to you, “Why don’t you put some pressure on that for me.” He inclines his head at your wound.

You nod, taking the soft white material, and pressing down to stop the bleeding.

“Please,” Petra begs again, “She’s delicious, you need to bring her to an auction we’re having next week. You have no idea how much she’s worth.”

His eyes are dark when he glances at you, seemingly deep in thought.

“I really could use some more blood, I can’t feed from her all the time.”

She jumps at Billy’s admittance.

“Exactly, you could get ten bodies with the amount of cash you’d get for her.”

When she leans in further, Billy’s hand drifts to wrap itself around her throat.

You can see that she’s too taken with your blood to focus properly, her eyes are glued to your neck despite the hold Billy has her in.

“Where is this auction?” Billy hums, with a tilt of his head. When she doesn’t immediately respond, trying to fight to keep the secret for as long as possible, you entice her by pulling the piece of fabric off your wound.

You’ve long since stopped bleeding, but the cloth has enough of your blood on it to loosen her lips easily.

She speaks the time and place in a very soft breath, that not even you can hear, all you can see from the corner of your eyes are her lips moving, and after a moment, Billy nods in understanding.

“I’ll think about it. Now leave. You promised me privacy and you’ve already had your taste.” He pushes her away, releasing the grip on her throat.

She catches herself as she falls back, and with a sour look, she backs off, leaving you alone with each other.

Did you have to kiss her? You immediately want to ask, but with the knowledge that anyone can hear your conversation, you can only roll your eyes at him, and lean away.

You know that technically, you’re supposed to be locked into an intimate embrace with him, but you can’t bear the thought of kissing him after watching him kiss someone else.

You needed to find a way to make this believable on your own terms, and you also didn’t want to actually fuck him either. You’d had enough of being vulnerable for the night.

Without thinking too much about it, you reach for the button on his jeans.

His hands reach to stop you, a silent exchange passing between you. He raises his eyebrows in a 'What are you doing?' type of way.

You both knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt that you couldn’t very well just leave after getting the information you wanted, it would look too suspicious. Something had to be done, and this is what you’d decided on.

You bite down on your bottom lip, deep in thought, watching his eyes drift down to your mouth, and when you reach to undo his pants again, he doesn’t stop you.

You shuffle back, tugging at his jeans and working his boxers down until his cock is exposed to you.

He's almost at full mast, and his indecent exposure and the implications of that succeeds in bringing him to full hardness.

You feel something twist inside of you, a pleasure racing through your body at just the sight of him.

You wanted to do this, for yourself as much as for him.

Shuffling back, you keep your eyes on his, slipping easily onto your knees between his parted legs.

When your knees hit the ground, you watch his eyes flash red momentarily.

There’s nothing to be said between you. You can’t convey to him that you’re only doing this because any of the alternatives mean opening up to him, and that’s the last thing you feel like doing right now.

Right now, all you want to do is take from him.

So instead, you lean forward, and wrap your lips around the head of his cock.

His cock is so fucking good you have to fight the moans that rise so easily within you.

Your eyes flutter shut, leaning forward even more, tongue roaming over his tip.

You hear a sharp intake of breath, and you reward the sound by taking him deeper.

It feels so right to have him in your mouth, heavy against your tongue, the head of his cock is smooth, and you're intrigued by the sensation.

You reach for his hand, the one that's got a death grip on the soft cushion beside your head. He releases the couch on your insistence, and you encourage his hand to grip the back of your head.

He grunts out what you think is an expletive, and you pause, raising your head to look at him.

His eyes are dark, the scars on his face look downright devilish in the low light, and you want him to use you for his pleasure, so that you don’t have to feel bad about wanting.

You can tell he’s hesitant, for the very first time you see him pause in his pursuit of you, dark eyes unsure, that is, until you begin to lick gently at his tip.

Teasing him with small touches of your tongue, you watch the darkness grow and grow in his eyes, until he finally takes control- gripping the back of your head harshly.

Your mouth falls open at the sensation, obedient to whatever he wills. You move easily as he pulls your mouth back onto his cock.

He takes it slow at first, guiding the movement of your head up and down on his cock, pushing you down a little deeper each time.

You suck a little- because for all the control he has- you’re in charge here.

“That’s a good girl.” He hums lowly, guiding your head. You hum in response.

It feels good to give him this, feel him filling your mouth so rhythmically, your cunt weeping for the attention he gives your mouth.

You push farther than his hands guide, taking him to the back of your throat. Your body isn’t prepared for the intrusion, and resists, forcing you to pull away with a gasp.

Tears in your eyes, you look up at him in apology.

His lips are parted, licking at his bottom lip, he grips your hair harshly, and pulls your head up.

You grunt, scalp tingling for a moment as he pulls your body taut between his legs, leaning down until his lips are pressed to your ear.

“You have no fucking idea what I want to do to you, little girl.” He whispers in your ear.

You swallow, cunt squeezing around nothing.

You wanted to hate him.

You wanted him to use you however he wanted.

You don’t say anything, and when he pulls back to look at you, you make sure he can see the fire in your eyes.

All he does is smirk, and pull your head back down to his cock.

This time, he’s rougher with his motions, guiding your head faster, till your jaw begins to ache but you refuse to give up, wanting to taste his cum, the way he tasted your blood, to have a part of him, just like he had a part of you.

His hands tighten in your hair, a warning, you suck rhythmically, using your tongue to stroke the underside of his cock.

You hear his breath catch, before he’s pushing you down on his cock. You squeeze your eyes shut as he fills your mouth with salty cum, his cock pulsing against your tongue, and you do your best to take everything he has to give.

You don’t swallow immediately, pulling your head off of his cock, you look up at him, parting your lips and sticking your tongue out to show him the evidence of his release.

His eyes flash red as he watches you swallow his cum, appreciating the salty taste of him, before opening your mouth again to show him that it’s all gone.

You breathe deeply, gazing at each other for a long moment. His hand slips from the back of your head, cups your cheek gently.

“I can smell how wet you are. Let’s go home. The things I want to do to you I can’t do here.” Billy says softly, and you nod, getting out of his way so that he can stand and tuck his cock back into his pants.

When he’s done, he extends a hand to you, which you take easily, rising to a stand.

When he leans in to kiss you, you turn your head to the side to avoid his lips, still upset at seeing him kiss another.

He pulls away, a stony expression on his face as he guides you out of the secluded booth.

You grab the handkerchief with your blood on it, tucking it into your back pocket, making sure there’s no evidence of your blood left behind.

Billy nods at Petra on his way out of the room, and you keep your eyes fixed to the floor like the pet you’re supposed to be.

#dark!billy russo #vampire billy #vampire!billy russo #billy russo x reader #billy russo x female reader

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ellooo0ooo · 6 months

Text

I wanna punch Five right now like AAAHHHH—

╭─► ❝The Servant: Umbrella Academy's Servant❞

Five Hargreeves × Female! Reader || Written by Diana (d1ana-m0nd)

➢ Description : It's a well known fact that Sir. Reginald Hargreeves adopted 7 children to save the world from it's impending doom. Though, the number of children will change from 7 to 8 once a close friend of his, Rita Rossweisse was on her death bed and requested him to take in her child, who fortunately was born on October 1st 1989.

➢ Word Count : 4,553

➢ Links : Masterlist && Character Profile

Chapter 4: Man on the Moon

Ever since the other numbers chose to leave the academy, Number One and Number Zero were the only numbers behind left. Luther mostly spent his day lazing around, uncertain of what to do next as he awaited for Mr. Monocle's missions. Y/N kept herself busy by doing her assigned chores and helping Pogo and Grace around the house, and visited Vanya from time to time under Mr. Hargreeves' orders.

Today was the same routine for Number One. The only difference was that Luther thought it would be a great idea to ride a bicycle around the house, whilst drinking a container of milk. The servant noticed this through the CCTV and giggled but, you cut off your amusement short because you had orders to follow through.

You turned on the PA system and called over the larger male's attention. "Attention, Master Luther. Mission alert. I repeat, mission alert. Mr. Hargreeves' request for your presence in his study room."

The dirty blond male stopped his shenanigans and hastily placed the bicycle against the wall, as he hurried to his room to dress up into his superhero suit. Once he finished dressing up, you escorted him to his father's office.

Heading to his father's room you couldn't help but, sneak glances towards his direction. Was he comfortable with you? Is he fine with working alone in missions? Would he mind if you assisted him?

"Do you have something on your mind Y/N?" Luther quipped, most likely catching onto the smaller girl's glances.

You let out an airy chuckle, "I'm sorry, It's just… I'm worried for you."

The larger man raised a brow, "Why would you be? I've handled a lot of missions by myself, this one is nothing new to me."

"I suppose you are right," You sighed and added, "Though that doesn't mean you can handle everything yourself, sometimes you need other people to help you."

Number One nodded, "Yeah, I see your point but," he ruffled your hair, "You have nothing to worry about, I'm Dad's Number One for a reason."

You forced yourself to keep your lips into a smile; You didn't want to tell him that being number one means nothing when it comes to life threatening situations…

"Also, Master Luther, please refrain from messing with my hair." You reminded him as you tried to salvage the neatness of your hair, which made the larger male giggle.

When you've both arrived at Mr. Hargreeves' office, you were quick to stand by the patriarch's side prepping his tea as he spoke to Luther.

"There's a biochemical substance, unknown, but dangerous, especially in the wrong hands. As my Number One, I need you to deal with the threat." The older male commanded as he jotted down things on his priceless notebook.

"I'm ready. But, uh..."

"Yes?"

"You don't need to call me by my number anymore." Number One requested.

Mr. Hargreeves' and you were intrigued by Luther's words. Why would he point out something so miniscule and have no importance to the mission?

"Why not?" Mr. Monocle inquired, his sharp gaze on Luther.

The larger male stiffened under his father's gaze, it made him feel small but pointed out. "Because I'm the only one left."

"Ah." The older man didn't seem surprised by his son's statement, though he shrugged it off as he went back to writing where he left off.

"Ouch. I'm totally not here." You sarcastically thought brushing off the pain of being ignored, was Luther even aware you were still in the same room? Or did he forget you were still there?

When Luther left the room, you raised a question to the head of the Hargreeves' family, "Mr. Monocle may I raise a question?"

The older male merely nodded and gestured for you to shoot your question.

"Why am I not sent to missions with Luther? Wouldn't it be better for him to have assistance rather than doing them alone?" You mused, subtly pointing out the dangers of doing the mission by himself.

"Ah. Simple," Mr. Hargreeves' paused as he drank his tea then spoke, "You will serve as a hindrance. Number One knows how to deal with missions by himself without my orders. You, on the other hand, would need guidance on every step of the way. Which is something I don't need in missions."

You couldn't help but bite your lower lip. Your throat was clogged with colorful words that were wanting to be spewed at the patriarch's direction, though you knew your situation better now. You were merely a servant in everyone's eyes, not a person who wants to help…

Unexpectedly, the mission Luther was sent to almost got him killed. The last thing he'd witness as a human is gunfire going off, metal clanging, air hissing, loud clattering and banging as he battled with his opponents. The whole fight ended with the larger male groaning in pain, as his body was covered with bullet wounds, knife slashes and burns from the fight. Making haste, you and Grace hurriedly pushed the wheeled stretcher to the infirmary.

"Hurry! Let's get him inside. Get that gear off him." Reginald ordered you and Grace to assist him.

The injured Luther was wheezing in pain as you took out the scissors and cut away the gear that was in the way.

"Paddles. Quickly!" Mr. Hargreeves' commanded, Grace charged the paddles then placed it on Luther's chest. The paddles whirred and buzzed but Number One was unresponsive.

"Again."

You turn up the paddles and increase the voltage. Whilst Grace charged it up and placed it on Luther's chest awaiting for his pulse to become more stable but got nothing.

The monocle cursed as he saw no improvement, "Damn it! Bring me the serum. Pogo."

Pogo walked up to Mr. Hargreeves' side and gave him the serum that was mixed with your blood and Pogo's, a modified serum that could save his life. The older man hurriedly inserted the serum into Luther's veins and pushed the liquid into him. For a moment, everyone went silent since Luther wasn't wheezing in pain anymore, unsure of what to do next, but they left the room as soon as Reginald told them to.

ㅤㅤㅤ❲ T H E ☕ S E R V A N T ❳

It was early in the morning, most likely around 5 am. Pogo woke you up to share his discovery with you. Groggily, you followed his lead, when your eyes met a deactivated Grace, your eyes widened, immediately awakened from your tired state.

“Mr. Pogo, was this part of the plan or did the masked people do this to her?” You murmured, your hands gripping onto the fabric of your sleepwear.

The advanced chimpanzee wore a sullen look glancing at Grace, “Mr. Hargreeves expected this would happen but, he didn’t plan to do this to Grace.”

“So it’s the masked people then… By any chance, did Mr. Monocle anticipate that other people would get involved?” You asked your eyes narrowed at the ground because you didn't know how to take your anger out.

“Yes, yes he did.” Pogo replied which made you sigh, this made you think one thing.

“Mr. Pogo… does Master Hargreeves not trust me?”

The formal chimpanzee looked away, guilt weighing his heart. “I’m afraid not.”

You could not help but feel like crap. As the servant of the Umbrella Academy and as Number Zero, you've done everything in your power to please Mr. Hargreeves and serve his family. However, in his eyes, what you were doing was not good enough, you were not trustworthy enough. As the servant of the Hargreeves family, were you not perfect enough… Did he see the cracks? The flaws you have tried so hard to hide? You could not help but blame yourself for being so incompetent and being unable to keep up to their expectations.

The older chimpanzee noticed that the servant seemed bothered by his admission, based on how she was staring into space whilst she fiddled with the fabric of her pajamas. He decided it would be best to redirect their discourse.

“Y/N you should use this opportunity to run away now. You plan to monitor Five right? Leaving now will give you a headstart.”

You shook your head no, ”I cannot… Master Luther’s already suspicious of me, I would not want to create any more discord between us.”

“Understandable," Pogo nodded, " Please inform the others that are left behind, regarding the state we found Grace in.”

The servant bowed to Pogo and did as you were told. You informed the ones who were left behind in the academy: you told Diego before he departed early in the morning, you looked for Vanya but couldn't find her, the same could be said to Klaus, you told Allison and planned to tell Luther but the Rumor stopped you claiming she would tell him herself.

You were planning to start doing your chores along with Grace's tasks but you suddenly recalled Klaus' absence. His absence worried you a bit, because his 'disappearance' occured after the masked people came to terrorize the house looking for Five.

“By any chance Miss Allison, have you seen Klaus? I can’t seem to find him.” you questioned the older woman, hoping her answer would ease your worries.

The woman in curls shook her head but wore a small smile, “Don’t worry about it Y/N, he’s probably out there doing his own thing. You have nothing to worry about, he’s a grown man and he can take care of himself.”

You forced yourself to smile once again; you understood that she meant well but it felt wrong to brush off Klaus' absence at a time like this. Though you told yourself that maybe you are just overthinking things, might as well redirect that energy to the chores that needed your attention.

ㅤㅤㅤ❲ T H E ☕ S E R V A N T ❳

It was a cloudy day, Lance, the prosthetist, spent his morning walking his dog. Once he finished taking his dog out for a walk, he carried the dog and headed to his car. Unaware of the danger he'd face the moment he stepped foot into his car. He unlocked the back door and carefully placed his dog on the backseat then went to the driver's seat to start the car.

Out of nowhere, someone blinked to the passenger seat. Before he could react, a knife was pressed against his neck by the brunette boy that had been "harassing" him, rather, threatened and scared the crap out of him for days.

"Oh, Jesus!"

"One chance. That's all you've got. One chance to tell me exactly what's going on in that lab." Five placed the blade against the prosthetist's neck, harder.

"I... I manufacture prosthetic devices for fake patients. I bill the insurance companies and then sell them for cash on the black market." Lance rambled, sweating bullets as he feared for his life.

The boy brought up, "Including eyeballs?"

"Yeah, they're my biggest seller. I mean, they sell like hotcakes. I... I've got a list, a waiting list, probably 20 buyers."

"So, the serial number I told you..."

"Uh, could've already been bought. Yes, off... off the books."

The brunette boy glared at Lance and sighed, "I needed that list, Lance. Names and numbers, and I need it now!"

"I don't have it!" The prosthetist exclaimed but, Five pressed the blade further into his neck. "I mean, not on me. The only copy's in my safe at the lab."

The boy withdrew the blade and sat on the passenger seat comfortably, like he owned the car. "Well, you start the car, then. 'Cause we're going on a field trip."

Lance let out a sigh of relief, "Okay."

"Now." Five threw a cold glare at the doctor's direction.

Despite being half Lance's size, Five's glare was enough to urge him to start the car, "Okay."

ㅤㅤㅤ❲ T H E ☕ S E R V A N T ❳

Once Luther woke up and was caught up to speed with the situation, he made a beeline to Five's room with Pogo and you in tow. The larger male rummaged through Five's things and room to look for something of use. At the moment, you and Pogo were trying to reason with him.

"Like I said, Master Luther, Number Five hasn't lived in this room since he was a boy." Pogo said watching over the comically larger male crouching and looking for something that could help him.

Luther nodded, "Yeah, I know, but we need to warn him. He doesn't even know we were attacked. He doesn't know they're looking for him, he doesn't know…"

Unexpectedly, a new pair of footsteps caught everyone's attention, everyone's eyes were redirected to the man in leather who just entered Five's room. It seemed like he had the same plan as Luther.

"What are you doing here?" Diego narrowed his eyes to Number One.

"Uh..." Spaceboy sighed then shifted his attention to his brother, "Do you know about Mom?"

"Y/N informed me before I left." The Kraken said and added, "It looks like you got what you wanted, one way or another, right?"

The whole room was silent with the latino's remark. The dirty blonde merely sighed in response to his brother's remark. Their relationship has always been like this after all, one upping the other over the smallest of things.

"Wanna tell me what you're doing here?" Luther questioned the other male.

"Looking for Five." The knife wielding vigilante briefly replied.

"Let me guess, you're gonna save the day." The larger male snided, as he rolled his eyes knowing his brother's antics.

Diego narrowed his eyes at Number One, "It's what I do. Asshоlе."

"Really?" Spaceboy stood up and looked his brother in the eye. "Last I checked, you mopped floors."

"And what do you do? Sit on the moon for four years, waiting for orders?"

Although that insult wasn't directed at you, it stung. Though you wouldn't voice that; what you said and felt didn't matter at the moment.

"Keep on being a loyal soldier after everything our father did to you."

"Master Luther and Master Diego, arguing will not be of any help in trying to find Master Five." You tried to meditate the situation but your words fell on deaf ears as the men kept arguing.

"What? You mean save my life?" The larger male defended his father.

"No, I mean... turn you into a monster."

Luther let out an exasperated sigh in response to his statement. He tried so hard to hide it from the others but they now know the truth. It was embarrassing to say the least, even though he knew he couldn't hide it forever. He couldn't help but wish they didn't see this side of him.

"Can't hide it anymore, champ." Diego mockingly pointed out.

"He had a difficult decision to make, and he made it." The dirty blonde defended their father again.

"Grow up, Luther. We're not 13 anymore."

"Making difficult decisions to save others, is what leaders do, by the way." Spaceboy desperately added, as he tried his best to paint their father in a good light.

The latino scoffed, "He sent you on that mission all alone. Almost got you killed."

"Yeah, well at least he was there. Where were you? You and everyone else in this family? You walked out." Luther hissed as he glared at Number Two.

"Everyone, please calm down-" You tried to pacify the situation but got interrupted instead.

"And thank Christ that I did, or I would have ended up just like you." The Kraken looked at him in disgust as a eureka moment occurred in his head. "Let me ask you a question. When you watch one of these nature shows…"

"Diego, please." The advanced chimpanzee begged knowing where he was going with his question.

"Does it turn you on?" The knife wielder wore a smug expression that angered Luther. It tempted Spaceboy to physically wipe off the expression on Diego's face.

"So what? Is he just an animal to you, too now, Diego, huh? Don't-"

"Enough! This house was attacked. We barely got out with our lives. And Grace... she wasn't so lucky. Your brother is missing, and this is how you rise to the occasion? Take your nonsense elsewhere. Now." Pogo's voice boomed which caught everyone off guard.

"Sorry, Pogo." Luther apologized.

"Yeah, sorry, Pogo." Diego muttered.

"Wow. It's almost like I wasn't here trying to calm them down as well." The girl silently remarked, hating the fact that no one in this household took her seriously. Was it because she looked like a little girl?

ㅤㅤㅤ❲ T H E ☕ S E R V A N T ❳

By some miracle, Luther and Diego decided to team up with you to go look for Five. They added you to their search party, since you were the one who Five kept by his side ever since he came back, and you probably had an inkling of where he was heading to. Number One was hesitant to let you join but Number Two managed to 'persuade' him. The Spaceboy, the Kraken, and the Servant headed to where they last saw the van was parked.

"This is it. He's still here. This is Five's van. Go. Go." Luther urged the others to hurry.

They - Diego and you - did as you were told and hurried. You opened the back door whilst Diego and Luther fought over the passenger seat, until Diego gave up as he rolled his eyes and reluctantly opened the sliding door at the back. The three of you looked all over the van for any signs of where Five was.

Diego whistled loudly, "I know where to find Five." He took out Vanya's autobiography, the first page littered with equations and a library stamp. The library was hours away from their current location.

"I should stay behind just in case Master Five plans to come back here." You said, assuming the possibility he would come back to the van.

The dirty blonde seemed hesitant to let you stay behind without anyone keeping an eye on you but Diego butted in before his brother could say anything nonsensical - his words, not yours.

“Yeah, we need someone to check on the van just in case he comes back, just message me if he comes.” Number Two ordered which you bowed to.

They left you behind to head to the libraries that were nearby, with Luther occasionally peeking over his shoulder making sure you'd stay in the van. You sat on the passenger seat and waited for Five to show up.

As time passes, you grow bored, your attention drifting from one thing to another. Suddenly, you saw two well dressed people entering the prosthetic building. They wore similar suits to the masked people but, you couldn't verify if they were the same people since they didn't wear a mask. Out of caution, you called the police over the nearest phone booth and reported them about suspicious individuals entering the building.

Just in cue, Five arrived at the prosthetic building. As he and Lance were heading to the entrance of the building, the brunette smelled something familiar - fire. Alert coursed through the boy's veins, he hurriedly ran to the entrance of the building. The fire from within the building roared and the fire alarm rang for help, which increased the adrenaline and his pace. He was about to enter the entrance and try to salvage the only lead he had, only to be pulled back by his collar, the glass shattered and exploded which grazed Five.

The flabbergasted brunette sat on the pavement watching as his only hope to save the world was burning right in front of him. He felt helpless watching it all burn away, it was the only thing he could do, as he thought of one thing, we are all doomed.

"Master Five, are you alright?" You asked as you removed your hands from his collar and crouched to his level, a worried look etched onto your facial features.

"What are you-" Five was taken aback by your presence then narrowed his brows at you. "How long have you been here?"

"Long enough to see the masked people come in…" You muttered looking away, you had a gut feeling he would lash out on you again.

"Why didn't you stop them!?"

"I didn't know I was supposed to stop them, I assumed you were already inside, that's why they came in. Plus, you told me to stay out of your way last time, so I just called the police again-" You tried to explain only to be interrupted by a glare and Five scoffing at you, "You're useless!"

"You haven't changed one bit!" The brunette hissed, venom seething through his words; It made you flinch. You tried to assist him to stand up, only for your hand to be swatted away.

"You are still a puppet waiting for someone to pull your strings. You can't even think for yourself without someone's orders! Is it that hard to think for yourself just for once?!" The boy exclaimed angrily as he stood up in his own accord, without your assistance.

"You know my goal is to stop the apocalypse but, you let this happen."

"I'm sorry, I didn't know I was supposed to -"

"You not knowing does not cut it! You just lost me the only lead I had!"

You froze in your place, as you fidgeted with your skirt's frills. Five was right… Despite following orders, you have caused nothing but trouble to him and everyone else. You have tried your best to help everyone but, why do you keep messing up everything?

"Rossweisse, If your plan all along was to sabotage me then, expect me to get rid of you. Luther already told me you might have something to do with the old man's death and I could care less about that but, you getting in my way is something I won't stand for." Five declared as you watched him walk away, again. A heavy weight on your heart.

You left the front of the burning prosthetics building, noticing the sirens were getting louder, to avoid any more attention you sat on a nearby park's bench, Five's words deeply engraved into your head. The only thing that brought you back to reality was the sound of your phone's notification going off.

You did as you were told and met up with Diego and Luther. You carried Delores, whilst the larger male carried the drunk Five in his arms. Throughout the whole walk, you were quiet because your own thoughts were clouding your head.

"Well, we can't go back to the house. It's not secure. Those psychopaths could come back at any moment." Luther pointed out.

The latino suggested, "My place is closer. No one will look for him there."

The brunette in spaceboy's arms belched, which made the dirty blonde sighed and gave Five a 'look'. "If you vomit on me..."

"You know what's funny? Aah! I'm going through puberty." The boy scoffed then continued speaking, "Huh. Twice. And I..." Five chuckled under his drunken breath, "I drank that whole bottle, didn't I? That's what you do when the world you love goes bye-bye. Poof, it's gone. What are you guys talking about?"

"Two masked intruders attacked the Academy last night. They came looking for you. So I need you to focus. What do they want?" Luther questioned, eagerly awaiting answers from the boy in his arms.

"Hazel and Cha-Cha." He drunkenly answered with a poor attempt of a smile.

"Who? You know, I hate code names." Diego remarked as he played with the knife in his hand to calm his nerves.

The boy explained. "Ah, the best of the best. Except for me, of course."

"The best of what?" Spaceboy pestered his 'younger' brother.

"You know, Delores always said she hated when I drank. She said it made me surly…"

"Well, you certainly act the opposite of it." The girl internally pointed out, as Five was more tamed than his usual self.

"Hey!" The male in black leather impatiently shouted.

The drunk Five smiled drunkenly, unaffected by Diego's impatience, "Hm? Yeah?"

"I need you to focus. What do Hazel and Cha-Cha want? We just wanna protect you." Number Two reasoned, only for his worry to be scoffed at.

"Protect me? I don't need your protection, Diego. Do you have any idea how many people I've killed? No. I'm the Four frickin' Horsemen. The apocalypse is coming." The brunette explained then vomited over Luther's shoulder then went back to sleep.

The 'Five search party' arrived at Diego's place, which is the Boiler room underneath Al's place. Luther carefully placed the sleeping Five on Diego's bed. Whilst you placed Dolores on an empty chair and sat beside the top half of a mannequin.

The latino took one good look at the boy's sleeping figure, "Funny. If I didn't know he was such a prick, I'd say he looks almost adorable in his sleep."

"Well, don't worry. He'll sober up eventually. Be back to his normal, unpleasant self." Luther muttered, keeping his voice down, while you silently agreed to his statement.

"Yeah, I can't wait that long. I need to find out what his connection is with these lunatics before someone else dies." Number Two said as he paced back and forth.

"All that stuff he was saying before… What do you think he meant by that? Y/N, do you know what he meant by it?"

You were about to answer Luther's question but footsteps that were approaching Diego's room caught everyone's attention. The vigilante cautiously approached the door and readied his blade as he cracked the door open ready to throw it at the 'intruder'.

"You throw another one of those goddamn knives at me, I'm pressin' charges!" Al exclaimed angrily, most likely exasperated by how it was a common occurrence.

Diego let out a sigh of relief and fully opened the door, "What do you want, Al?"

"I ain't your secretary." The gym owner snarked with a grouch, "Some lady called for you, said she needs your help."

"What lady?" Number Two placed his blade back into place, curious about the lady Al was referring to.

"I dunno. Some, uh, detective. I think she said her name was, uh, Blotch or somethin'." The old man tried to recall as he scratched the back of his nape.

"Patch? She needs my help…"

Al nodded confirming the name was what he heard then added, "She needs you to meet her at that motel, a dump on Calhoun."

"When?"

"About half an hour ago. Uh, said she found your brother."

"Well, that doesn't make sense…" Diego looks at his 'missing' brother who was currently snoozing on his bed.

"Klaus…" You muttered and then pointed out, "He hasn't been home since the shooting, the masked people probably took him as hostage!"

"Go. I'll wait here," Number One said, well more like gave his brother permission to leave. Without another word, Diego slammed the door closed as he ran.

"...With them." Luther muttered as he glanced at you and Five. The awkward atmosphere reigning the boiler room.

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#five x reader #tua x reader #five hargreaves x reader

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ellooo0ooo · 6 months

Text

Kinktober 23

23. Breeding/Impregnation, Fancy Dress, Frottage

notes: set before you knew you could have the twins.

Just because they can’t get you pregnant, doesn’t mean it can’t be a fun venture in bed to imagine that they could.

Maybe it’s because the three of you, though happy with what you have - more than happy, really, elated is a better word - long for something a little bit more. A child to tie the relationship up with a bow. A cherry on top.

But you can’t, so the fantasy is just that: a fantasy.

Crowley and Aziraphale are both inside you. It’s a feeling you got used to centuries ago but never fails to make you moan and whine when experiencing it. You’re lying on top of Aziraphale, the soft plushness of his body a pillow, his girthy length stretching you wide. Crowley is longer but slimmer, he’s easily able to push inside your cunt too. You take them easily and welcome them both into your velvety softness.

“There we are,” Aziraphale whispers as he feels the sinful rub of Crowley’s cock against his own while they fuck you, slow and sensual. They jostle inside you for room, making Crowley press deliciously against your front wall and send pleasure shooting down your spine.

The demon’s eyes are blown wide at the picture painted in front of him, and Aziraphale reaches around half to stroke your clit and half to feel where you and Crowley connect. He sighs huskily in your ear.

“You are magnificent, my darling. You love being filled, don’t you?”

“Y-yes,” is all you can manage. You do. “Want to be f-filled by something else, though.”

You see the smile on Crowley’s face, but only hear it on Aziraphale’s behind you as he chuckles in delight. They begin to fuck you a little rougher, pressing you open with more urgency.

“Oh, do you want us to fuck a baby into you, nightingale?” Crowley asks lowly. You moan and nod.

“Yeah.”

“You want to have a demon’s child? An angel’s one? Feel it growing inside of you, proof of how we’ve fucked you so many times that you can’t not have it take?”

Crowley leans down and forces a kiss onto your needy mouth, before offering the same to Aziraphale.

“Oh god…”

“I bet you’d let us, too. Let us fuck you over and over again until you’re dripping with us, so stuffed full your poor puffy little cunt can only throb.”

“You’d look lovely pregnant, my dear,” Aziraphale whispers, his soft voice a gentle caress, a total flip from Crowley’s filthy words. “You’d be so full of us, so splendid and radiant. And we’d be able to look at you all the time knowing we’re the ones that did it.”

His hands come up to clutch your tits, pinch and roll your nipples between his thick fingers.

“Your breasts would get tender and start dripping with milk. You’d grow and flourish with new life, my darling. I’d never be able to stop looking at you. Stop touching you. Gosh, you are a masterpiece, an utter work of art anyway - but I can’t help but wonder what you’d look like swollen with us.”

It’s too much. You’re getting overwhelmed. And from the way their thrusts are matching in erraticness, so are they.

“Come inside me. Please, please. I need it. I need you to fill me up.”

They don’t need to be asked again, and your lovers spill into your willing cunt, hot and hard. You feel their spend drip out between their cocks. When they pull out you moan for loss of contact but not for long - Crowley raises your legs so that your ankles can sit on his shoulder, Aziraphale begins to finger the mix of them back inside of you.

“Now now, nightingale. Got to give it the best chance to work, hmm?” Crowley asks, eyes sparkling. You surrender your pliant body over to them and know they’ll take care of it.

#aziraphale x reader x crowley #crowley x reader x aziraphale

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ellooo0ooo · 6 months

Text

Fixed With A Kiss

Part of the Tender Loving Care AU

Pairing: Vampire!Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Vampire!Reader

Summary: Even with the claiming process officially over, the bond between you and Aleksander strengthens with every passing moment.

Warnings [18+]: smut, oral (fem receiving), blood, typical vampire themes, blood consumption, reader feeds on Aleksander, minor injury

My Masterlist • Series Masterlist

Quiet nights at home with Aleksander have become some of your favourite moments since you went through with the claiming process. His presence has become something you seek out almost every day in some capacity.

Whilst you spend a fair amount of time together at your flat, the peace and quiet of Aleksander’s home is a luxury you find yourself enjoying on a regular basis. Like this evening.

His eyes are fixed on the television in front of you in his living room, the shapes and colours of the TV show playing there reflected in his dark eyes as a small frown creases at his brows. He keeps looking down at the remote control, placed beside his thigh, close at hand, which hasn’t escaped your notice.

Most of the vampire related content you watch together has been vetted by Aleksander’s friend Zoya, whose recommendations have steered you clear of any graphic depictions of humans being turned or more vicious vampire attacks, which you know has been a joint effort between them both to ensure you avoid anything that might make you uncomfortable.

Judging by the way Aleksander’s hand is twitching beside the remote and the tense music building as one of the show’s protagonists ventures into an abandoned warehouse, you seem to be approaching a potentially upsetting scene.

“Would you close your eyes for a moment?” he asks.

There’s only a brief pause before you realise what he means to do and you close your eyes as he presses the mute button.

He breathes out a quiet sigh, humming a light tune as he observes whatever is playing on the screen. Bright flashes of light dance over your eyelids, though all you can hear is Aleksander’s heart beating its familiar rhythm, the steady rise and fall of his chest, and the quiet drag of his thumb circling over the button on the remote. So attuned to his presence, you don’t startle when he presses a gentle kiss to your cheek, assuring you in a low murmur,

“You can open your eyes now, little one.”

As soon as your eyes are open, you loop your arms around Aleksander’s body, nestling your head against his chest and providing him with an appreciative squeeze. His cheek brushes against the crown of your head as he unmutes the television and begins to briefly summarise what plot point you missed.

Before meeting Aleksander it’s likely you would have berated yourself for being too sensitive whilst watching such a scene and his thoughtfulness has you swallowing down the lump of emotion gathering in your throat. He is more gentle with you than you have ever been with yourself.

Aleksander drapes an arm around you, smoothing his palm down the length of your spine, and you melt into him with a deep sigh of contentment, breathing in his scent as you attempt to dispel the negative thoughts at the edge of your mind. His touch helps to keep you grounded.

When you lift your head up to look at him, his eyes are already on you. The pad of his thumb traces lightly over your lower lip and the sensitive skin there tingles at his touch. The weight of his eyes on you makes your cheeks flush with warmth and you swallow hard at the scent of his blood flowing steadily through his body. The soft t-shirt he’s wearing means that his forearms are exposed to you and your gaze wanders down, admiring the path of veins beneath his skin.

“Go on,” he urges you quietly, nodding in encouragement.

His hands smell of the eucalyptus soap from his bathroom. Tentatively, you press a gentle kiss to the pad of each of his fingers, occasionally glancing up to watch his reaction. There’s a tenderness in his eyes as he watches you, his throat bobbing as he swallows slowly.

Despite his assurances that your fangs are thin enough to be painless for whoever you’re feeding on, there’s always a little apprehension when it comes to biting him somewhere new.

“Wrist or fingers?” you ask. He lifts his shoulder in a light shrug.

“Whichever you would prefer.”

Breathing out a soft huff of exasperation, you tilt your head at him. While you know he usually likes you to make the decisions to ensure you’re comfortable, sometimes it’s easier for Aleksander to make the decision. Especially when it’s something like this where you don’t mind either option, not to mention that you’re curious about what he wants.

“Aleksander, make a decision, please.”

A fond smile plays over his lips and he tilts his head aside as he considers your question. His attention lingers on your lips for a long moment, then he says quietly,

“Fingers, please.”

Aleksander is good at drawing blood from his fingers, using one of his fangs to scrape lightly over the skin there. He’s done it on several occasions to provide you with a small sample of his blood and you feel somewhat confident enough to try feeding from his fingers.

Slowly, you trace your fingertips over the grooves of his palm, feeling the tiny ridges of his fingerprints - a pattern solely unique to him. His hands aren’t completely smooth, there’s some calluses worn into his fingers in a few areas, though you’re certain the state of his hands have changed over the centuries.

Extending your fangs comes naturally now - more than it ever has. With infinite care, you drag the tip of one fang over the side of his finger, tracing along the length of his digit which leaves a thin red line in its wake. He breathes in sharply at the sting but shakes his head when you lift your brow questioningly in case he wants you to stop.

Red fills the line created by your teeth, flowing lightly from the shallow cut. Slowly, you begin to lap up the blood there, allowing it to bloom leisurely before the tip of your tongue follows the length of the cut. His eyes are darkened as your gaze meets his and a warm flush rushes over your cheeks.

The corner of his mouth quirks into a soft smirk that has the warmth on your face spreading down your neck. He tilts his head, eyeing the length of your throat intently which only makes you even more flustered knowing that he can both hear and see your heartbeat thrumming at the sensitive skin over your pulse point.

His blood is sticky, clinging to the grooves in the pad of his fingertips and the lines on his palm. The feeling of his blood lingering on your mouth makes you shiver and you lick your lips regularly to prevent it from drying there. Aleksander’s own tongue traces over his lower lip, his eyes focused on your mouth.

Since the cut is only shallow, the intention of drawing blood from his finger isn’t to gain a substantial feed from him. His expression softens as you lace your fingers with his, excluding the bleeding one, and slowly suckle on the blood.

The taste is as rich as always and there’s a small tang of salt from his skin as you trace your tongue over the cut. As you concentrate on drinking, your eyes flutter closed. Mildly concerned at the thought of his blood getting smeared over the fabric of his sofa, you take his finger into your mouth and begin sucking gently.

The weight of Aleksander’s gaze on your face prompts you to open your eyes and meet his stare directly. The smile he gives you is just as tender as always but there’s a dark glimmer in his eyes that tells you he likes seeing you feed from him just as much as you enjoy doing it.

As the bleeding slows down, you go back to tracing your tongue over the length of the wound. The time between each lick lengthens considerably until you’re able to withdraw from him slightly.

When you let go of Aleksander’s hand he doesn’t retract it instantly. Instead, he brushes his knuckles against your cheek, letting his fingers drop so that he can hook them gently beneath your jaw. He tilts your head up, his eyes scouring yours intently and for a moment you can barely breathe.

He leans in, kissing you softly at first. It’s only once you begin to respond, grasping tentatively onto his shirt to move closer against him, that he puts a little more force into his movements, cupping the back of your head.

Every vampire feels a niggling wrongness at the taste of their own blood and there’s a small crease at the tip of Aleksander’s nose at the taste of his blood lingering on your lips. Nevertheless, he continues kissing you, his mouth working slowly against yours without any hesitation. He holds your head in place, fingers squeezing gently at the nape of your neck and a shiver rolls down your spine.

He rests his forehead against yours as your heartbeat settles, your gaze fixed on his lips - a beautiful kiss flushed pink. After loosening his hold on you, he lowers his hands into his lap, his knees knocking against yours affectionately. Instantly, you clasp onto his hands with your own, smiling softly at him.

Leaning forward, you press a tender kiss to his cheek and his smile widens into something dazzling that has your stomach flipping. The room darkens as the credits of the show begin to roll over the screen.

»»---------------------►

The sound of Aleksander’s front door closing is the first indication of his presence, which has you moving away from the mirror in his living room. The sound of his footsteps heading down the hallway has you stopping in the kitchen to pull on your shoes, using the countertop to keep your balance.

Aleksander’s keys drop heavily onto the side table in his hallway and you lift your head to look at him properly. He’s standing in the kitchen doorway, staring at you with dark eyes.

“Lift your skirt up,” he says.

Frowning, you glance over at him briefly in confusion before focusing down at your skirt to adjust the position of the waistband on your body.

“Like this?” you ask, searching his expression questioningly. The skirt in question is a new favourite of yours, a deep red fabric that hangs perfectly mid thigh.

He shakes his head, eyes darkening further as he steps towards you in a few smooth strides. Then he drops down onto his knees, lifting the fabric of your skirt so that he can press his lips against your thighs in a flurry of kisses that make you squirm.

His sudden attention catches you off balance, a tiny noise of surprise catching in the back of your throat. Your fingers curl around the edge of the kitchen countertop, squeezing the marble tightly as a blush burns through your body.

“This skirt,” he remarks in a low tone, and his voice trails off distractedly as he continues to mouth over your skin.

“You like it?” you ask breathlessly.

Something that sounds like a disbelieving laugh escapes his lips before he remarks,

“Like it?”

His blunt teeth graze gently over the curve of your thigh and you can feel your pulse thrumming throughout your entire body, a dizzying rhythm that has you shifting your weight.

Aleksander’s kisses move hungrily over your skin and you gasp at the sensation. His facial hair scrapes gently over your inner thighs, the subtle coarseness there leaving a delightful tingle in its wake. He breathes out a pleased sound, smiling up at you, and your stomach flips as your eyes meet. Then he doubles his efforts to kiss every inch of your bare thighs.

“Your heart rate is rather elevated,” he muses quietly between kisses. Whatever retort you were thinking of fades on the tip of your tongue as his nose brushes against the sensitive skin of your inner thigh much higher than before.

He curls his hand around your wrist, guiding your hand over your skirt to encourage you to grasp at the material, holding it in place for him to settle his palms on the space above your knees. When his teeth graze lightly over your skin once again, you attempt to squirm but he holds you firmly in place.

As your grip tightens on both your skirt and the countertop, you fear you might rip the fabric, which would no doubt disappoint both yourself and Aleksander given how much you both seem to like it. His nose brushes over the waistband of your panties, his tongue tracing the crease between your thigh and your hip.

There’s a peculiar crunching sound, at the edge of your awareness, though you don’t pay much attention to it. Aleksander notices before you do, lifting his head up to look at your hand which is still gripping the countertop. Then you feel the sting of pain and smell the scent of blood blooming from where the broken marble has bitten into your skin.

“Oh,” you remark quietly, staring down incredulously at the red smeared over your open palm. Have you just broken his countertop? “That happened.”

Aleksander stands immediately, taking hold of your hips to slide you over to the left towards the sink. He hooks his hands beneath the crook of your knees, lifting you up onto the countertop. His touch is delicate as he holds your wounded hand, guiding it under the tap as he turns on the water.

A soft smile curls at your lips as you observe the drastic shift in his expression, from hungrily mouthing at your thighs to tending a little injury. His motions are protective, one hand focusing on cleaning your blood away whilst the other rubs soothing circles over your knee as if he’s attempting to distract you - either from the pain or the blood itself.

“How did I do that?” you ask quietly.

Aleksander glances up at you, dark eyes scouring over your features.

“When a vampire is well fed, we can sometimes access the supernatural strength that humans often believe we possess.”

That has never happened before, although feeding on blood regularly is a habit you’ve never been able to stick to.

“So, it’s a good thing?”

He kisses your cheek.

“Yes. It is.”

Warmth prickles over your face, creeping down your neck as embarrassment settles in your stomach and you glance down at the snapped edge of marble.

“I’m sorry about your countertop.”

He shakes his head, dismissing your concerns as he takes your chin between his fingers to guide your eyes back to his.

“Accidents happen.”

Amusement glimmers in his gaze and you suspect he is secretly quite pleased that he has had such an effect on you. He smiles, bringing your wounded hand up to his lips so that he can kiss the small scrape and you try not to squirm at such a tiny gesture.

“Would you like a plaster?” he asks.

“It’ll heal in a few minutes,” you say dismissively.

“That’s not what I asked you.”

Your cheeks heat with a flustered warmth once again, then you nod shyly.

“Okay.”

He leans over to open up a cupboard, crouching to retrieve a small box filled with a variety of different plasters of all shapes and sizes. As he rummages through the contents to find the right one for your hand, you pick up a stray plaster decorated in a floral pattern, twirling it between your fingers.

“Why do you have all these?”

Vampires heal quickly; plasters aren’t something you’ve ever considered buying for yourself.

“Nina and Matthias have a hellhound puppy that I like to babysit sometimes.” He breathes out a soft laugh, a fond expression filling his features. “When he was going through the teething stage, Zoya barely went a week without wanting a plaster to incite some sympathy from me.”

He holds out a selection of plasters, all the same size and shape but with differing patterns.

“Take your pick,” he says with a small smile, which you mirror bashfully, looking down at your options. After a brief moment of consideration, you point down at a pink plaster adorned in tiny red hearts.

Aleksander nods in approval, tucking the others away before he peels the backing off your selected plaster. His brows draw together as he concentrates on placing the plaster perfectly over the scrape on your hand.

“There we go.”

He presses a gentle kiss to the plaster and the warm brush of his lips through the material has a delightful shiver running down your spine. Once he releases your hand, he skims his knuckles gently over your cheek, his eyes assessing your expression intently.

When your eyes flutter slightly and you lean into his touch, he cradles the side of your face with his hand, his thumb circling lightly against the space between your jaw and your ear.

“Would you like to continue where we were heading?” he asks in a low voice.

Pleasure swirls in your stomach, eager to feel his hands and mouth on your body once again, though the turn taken in the last few minutes is weighing on your mind.

Sinking your hands into his hair would give you some stability and avoid a repeat of what had happened to the countertop, but the thought of unintentionally accessing your unused strength has you hesitating. Nervously, you run the pad of your thumb over the edge of the plaster on your palm.

“I won’t accidentally hurt you, will I?”

He shakes his head.

“No, you won’t.”

You frown, narrowing your eyes at his casually confident tone.

“But how do you know?”

His hips press flush against yours as he drops a kiss onto your cheek. He lowers his lips to trace over your jawline, mouthing lazily along the length of your neck.

“I just do.”

He continues his kisses, thoroughly distracting you, and a heated blush spreads over your cheeks. Warmth rushes down your body once again, pooling in your stomach and a blissful feeling runs beneath your skin, filling your head with a haze that you want to lean into.

“So, would you like to continue?” he asks smoothly. You nod eagerly but once again he waits for you to find your voice. Warmth spreads over your cheeks as your eyes lock and you say quietly,

“Yes, please.”

He kisses the tip of your nose and a smile blooms over your face which he mirrors instantly. His nose brushes gently against yours as he leans in, kissing you softly. His lips move slowly, matching your own movements as you kiss him back.

When you grasp onto the front of his shirt, urging him closer, he tilts his head, furthering the kiss as he presses himself between your parted thighs. Your hands scramble over the fabric covering his chest and shoulders, your nails digging into the material. He breathes out a soft laugh against your lips, clearly amused by your enthusiasm.

you shift your hips forward, over the marble countertop towards him, though his hands on your waist quickly stop you in your tracks and you frown at him. He presses a kiss to the crease between your brows.

“Let me take care of you.”

A blush burns over your cheeks at his heady gaze, now fixed on where your skirt has been bunched up over your hips. Nerves begin to bloom in your stomach as you begin to suspect what he means.

“On your kitchen countertop?” you ask incredulously, raising a brow at him. His smile is almost boyish, white teeth flashing as he looks up at you with a twinkle of anticipation in his eyes. As your gaze lowers, your thighs shift nervously.

“I haven’t… No one’s ever…”

He nods, pressing a kiss to the inside of your knee. His voice is low and gentle as he prompts some elaboration from you.

“Never?”

You shake your head.

“It wasn’t proper when I was human. After I turned, I never felt comfortable enough. With a vampire I was scared of getting hurt again, and with a human I was scared of hurting them.”

He runs a slow circle over your kneecap with the pad of his thumb, brows drawn together as he processes your admission.

“If you don’t want this-” he begins.

“I do,” you insist earnestly, your gaze lowering to his parted lips. “I really do.”

“I can go gently - if you’d like that?”

His lashes flutter as his eyelids close in a few slow blinks, his lips lingering delicately on your thigh - the barest hint of a kiss - and your body aches for more. You shake your head.

“I want you, Aleksander. Please.”

He hums in acknowledgement, his eyes no longer fixed on your face, and your insides squeeze when you realise he’s staring at your underwear, on display due to the bunched up state of your skirt.

The thought of Aleksander being able to smell your arousal lurks in the back of your mind and the urge to close your legs seizes you. He seems to anticipate such a move, his palms settling over each of your thighs to prevent it.

“Do you trust me?” he asks softly.

“You know I do.”

He nods, determination settling into his eyes as he reaches for the waistband of your underwear. The breath that leaves you is a little shaky, though you can’t tell whether the cause is nerves or anticipation. His hands drop back onto your knees, curled into light fists to keep his fingers from grasping at you.

“Relax, little one. I have you.”

Some of the tension slips from your spine at his words. His mouth returns to your thighs, resuming his earlier task of tracing over the sensitive skin there though he now seems to have a particular destination on his mind.

His nose nudges purposefully against the fabric of your underwear and your responding squirm is involuntary. He squeezes the flesh of your thighs gently in reassurance before his hands smooth back upwards once again towards the fabric at your hips. His words are murmured against the material there.

“You’re sure?”

Even though he can’t see it, you nod.

“Yes.”

He peels your underwear down smoothly, hooking a hand under each of your thighs individually to move the fabric away from the curve of your backside. Your hand sinks into his hair, grasping at the strands for some sense of stability and a low noise hums in his throat. Then he leans in between your thighs.

He starts slowly at first, gauging your reaction to the tentative strokes of his tongue. The sensation has your stomach flipping and your grip on him tightens as you gasp, which seems to encourage him to push himself closer. He increases his speed, lapping eagerly, and his enthusiasm has your hips jerking towards his mouth.

The movement of his lips is as unrelenting as his kisses often are - the kind that drives the air from your lungs.

Despite the pleasure thrumming through your body, the knowledge that you’re sitting perched on his kitchen countertop lingers in the back of your mind. Self consciousness itches down your spine, buzzing through your thoughts.

Without lifting his head, Aleksander reaches for your hand - the one not in his hair - entwining his fingers with yours. The knot in your chest loosens somewhat with his comfort and you gasp shakily at the next swipe of his tongue. A broken moan startles itself from your throat and heat burns over your cheeks at the sound.

Pleasure winds itself tighter in your stomach, prickling delightfully over your skin. Your thoughts are melting into a puddle of sensation, fuelled by the movement of Aleksander’s lips. His facial hair grazes over the apex of your thighs and light scrape has tingles spreading across your skin.

A faint whisper of his name falls from your lips, though you doubt he can hear you. Aleksander seems to be losing himself in the act just as much as you are, judging by the low moans reverberating in the back of his throat.

Your grip on him tightens further, fisting his hair and squeezing his fingers as a warm, blissful feeling swoops through your stomach, plummeting downwards. A fine gloss of sweat clings to your skin as the heat thrumming through your body nears its peak.

Aleksander suckles on your swollen bundle of nerves, tongue flicking over the sensitive nub. A small cry escapes from the back of your throat and your body arches into his mouth. You gasp his name over and over as pleasure tightens your muscles, dragging your body to a dizzying climax. Heat burns almost painfully over your cheeks at the sensation of your release dripping from you, smearing over Aleksander’s face.

Your chest heaves as you attempt to catch your breath. A soft haze has overtaken your mind, clouding your thoughts. There’s a minute ache in your fingers, flexing them a little as you loosen your hold on Aleksander’s hair.

He tilts his head aside, looking up at you with a small smile as you begin to thread your fingers through the strands of hair, admiring the faint shimmers of silver buried amongst his dark locks. His other hand is still clasping yours and he gives it a small squeeze of reassurance.

Satisfaction warms beneath your skin as he leans forward, nuzzling his nose against your thigh. He presses a tender kiss to the heated skin, smiling when you shiver. Then he stands, turning the water on over the sink and retrieving a cloth to clean himself.

A frown creases at your brows as you swing your legs, and you ask tentatively,

“But don’t you want more?”

He tilts his head towards you, eyes scouring over your face as he lathers soap over his hands. The scent of eucalyptus fills the air around you as he shakes his head.

“I told you, we go at your pace,” he insists softly. The gentle smile he gives you has warmth spreading through your chest. “Baby steps, that’s all.”

“Even with this?”

He nods, his expression earnest.

“Especially with this.”

»»---------------------►

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