pyschotic & iconic.

. ݁₊ ⊹ 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 !

this blog contains nsfw content & dark themes, minors dni beyond this point.

𝐒𝐐𝐔𝐈𝐃 𝐆𝐀𝐌𝐄

CHOI SU BONG/THANOS.

yandere alphabet

NAMGYU.

off limits vampire headcanons

𝐁𝐈𝐆𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐆

KWON JIYONG/G DRAGON.

melted kisses bonamana so good your biggest fan knockout ft. csh mean girls

CHOI SEUNGHYUN/TOP.

say please work of art brat taming drop your top knockout ft. kjy shut up

KANG DAESUNG.

i’m so sorry for disappearing and being so late with uploads. moving has been a mess, and my internet’s still not set up at my new place

ive been in a rough headspace, probably better for me not to get into right now but please know none of that makes me miss you any less. if anything, i’ve been thinking about you all even more 😭😭 i’m so so grateful for all the kind words and support ive gotten while i’ve been gone. you have no idea how much it means to me. i don’t take your patience lightly it’s such a huge gift, and i love and appreciate every single one of you

i’m really hoping to get some free time soon to catch up on everything i’ve missed and give you all the love back that you’ve shown me. thank you for sticking with me even when i hit slumps like this. my favorite part of writing will always be you guys <3

apart of @steponupbabe’s positions series

choi seunghyun x fem! reader

summary: your favorite subscriber knows exactly how to make your insecurities shut up.

warnings: 18+ content ahead including mutual masturbation, phone sex, dirty talk, praise, guiding/mentoring dynamic, pet names. cam girl! reader, implied age gap, online relationship

a/n: so sorry i’m late!! moving has been hectic :,) i hope this is okay

You weren’t even supposed to notice him.

Just another username in a sea of regulars—no demands, no dirty comments, no pressure. He tipped big without asking anything in return. Stayed for the full stream, but never flooded the chat. Just watched. Maybe sent the occasional heart emoji after the show was already over.

It felt…different. Respectful. As much as it could feel, for a cam girl.

When he finally messaged you—really messaged—you were half-asleep, still in your makeup, still buzzing from the high of a good night. You almost didn’t respond. But something about the way he wrote made you pause.

You looked gorgeous tonight

You sent back a quick, thank you <3

Nothing special.

But he kept showing up. Every stream. A bigger tip here, a compliment there. Never pushy. Just warm. Curious. A little older, judging from the way he typed—slower, more intentional. And when he sent a voice note for the first time?

You listened to it three times before answering.

His voice was deep. Smooth. The kind that wrapped around you—low, a little raspy, like the tail-end of a cigarette and something sweeter underneath.

“You don’t have to reply. I just…wanted to hear you laugh in today’s stream. Is everything okay? I’m here.”

God.

At first, you told yourself it was part of the job. Playing favorites. Building connections. But it started bleeding into your real life. You looked forward to his messages. You started wearing the things he liked. You noticed the difference when he was there—and the hollow ache in your chest when he wasn’t.

You found out his name was Seunghyun. Much older. Not in a way that made you cringe—in a way that made you feel taken care of. He didn’t try to win you over. He didn’t have to. He had that kind of presence—rich in a worn-in, lived-in way. Not flashy, not loud. Just expensive wine, silk button-downs open at the throat, perfect teeth behind a slow smile.

You teased him for being too “old” sometimes. Like when he sent blurry selfies from his apartment balcony or at an art gallery—half his face in shadow, a glimpse of collarbone and a chain. Always with some silly caption.

Had too much wine

I miss you

I like you ♡♡

You’d roll your eyes, but your stomach would flip.

He was sexy. You couldn’t deny it.

Not in the obvious way. Not like the guys who begged for customs or flooded your DMs with half-assed compliments. No, it was something else. It was in the way he showed he cared—not just about your body. In the way his voice dragged just slightly when he spoke, like he wasn’t in any rush for your attention.

What he didn’t know was that he already had it.

And then there were the gifts.

You used to get excited when someone tipped a hundred, but with Seunghyun, it was different. More generous. More frequent. More...thoughtful. Not just a number on your screen, but something that lingered. The kind of support that made it feel like he was looking after you even from far away.

Sometimes he sent things to your P.O. box. A silk robe in your favorite color. A book of poetry with a note scrawled inside: this reminded me of you. Or even a designer bag, just because.

And then, one night, buried in a longer voice note, he said it—

“Sleep well, my girl.”

Soft. Low. Possessive in a way that didn’t ask permission.

You saved it.

Played it in your headphones when you couldn't sleep. When your room felt too lonely. When you needed to feel wanted.

But now?

Now you’re spiralling.

You’re not supposed to care. He’s just a subscriber. One of many. A username who tips big, sends kind messages, calls you pretty. You’ve dealt with worse. You’ve dealt with better. He’s not yours.

But Seunghyun—he’s different. And now that he’s quiet, it’s eating you alive.

The silence has never lasted this long. Not since he found your stream a few months ago and started tipping just to hear you say his name sweetly, just to see you smile in a color he liked, just to watch you come undone.

He watched every show. He sent compliments that didn't feel fake. Even voice notes in that deep, slow voice that made your stomach flutter.

And suddenly? Nothing. Not a single message or voice note or call. Not even a view on your livestream from earlier this evening.

You’ve checked. You keep checking. You tell yourself it’s pathetic.

Maybe he’s busy. Maybe he forgot. Maybe he ended up watching someone else tonight—someone younger, someone prettier, someone less needy.

Your phone buzzes. Your heart leaps—only to find its spam. The bitterness is sharp. You throw the phone onto the bed and whisper to the empty room, He’s just a subscriber.

But your brain won’t shut up and the truth is, you miss him. You miss the way he talks to you—the way he'd send a picture of the wine he was drinking and say he wished you were there to share it with him. You miss the little voice notes where he sounds low, saying

"You were so beautiful tonight baby, you make me crazy."

You miss him so much.

It's embarrassing. But it's real. At least to you.

Finally, with a trembling breath and more pride than you want to admit slipping away, you pick up your phone and send him a text.

you didn't join my stream today :(

The three dots appear right away.

I’m sorry. long day at work

couldn’t stop thinking about you though.

wish I’d been there

You don’t reply, but more messages appear.

I’m really sorry princess

I’m here now

Can I call you?

Your chest tightens. You hesitate for one breathless second, then accept.

The phone vibrates. You answer.

“Hello?”

“Hi, princess.”

His voice slides into your ear like warm honey. You almost cry.

“Hey,” you whisper.

“Missed you,” he says, and you hear the faint crackle of his vape before a slow exhale. “Didn’t mean to worry you, sweetheart. Had a busy day.”

“It’s okay.”

A pause. “You sound upset.”

You don’t mean to, but it slips out. “Thought maybe you’d found someone else.”

The silence is heavy, then—he groans softly, almost pained. “No. Don’t ever think that. You’re my special girl.”

Your throat is tight. “I don’t know…sometimes it feels like I’m just one screen out of hundreds.”

“You’re the only one,” he says, firmer now. “The only woman I think about when I close my eyes.”

Your brain wants to argue, wants to pick apart every word—but his tone leaves no cracks to slip through. You tell yourself to shut up. Just shut up and believe him.

For a moment, there’s only his breathing in your ear. Then, lighter, “You’re pouting, aren’t you?”

You let out a small, involuntary laugh. “Maybe.”

“There it is,” he says, warmth flooding his voice. “Goddamn, you know how much I love that sound?”

You roll your eyes even though he can’t see you. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Probably,” he admits, “but I’m not kidding. That laugh could fix my whole day. You should give me more of it.”

You bite your lip, suddenly warmer all over. “And how exactly am I supposed to do that?”

“I can think of a few ways…” His tone shifts—still teasing, but lower now, silkier. “But you’d have to tell me you missed me first.”

“Seunghyun…”

“Mm?” His voice drops, warm and heavy in your ear.

You swallow, heat creeping into your cheeks. “…I missed you.”

A low hum of approval, almost smug. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you breathe.

He lets the silence stretch, just enough to make your pulse spike. “Say it again.”

“Don’t push it.”

“I’m not pushing,” he says, voice velvety, coaxing. “I just like hearing it. Makes me wonder how much you mean it.”

Your stomach twists. “More than I should.”

That earns you a quiet groan, the kind that makes your thighs press together. “You have no idea what that does to me.”

You try to deflect with a teasing edge. “Oh, I think I do.”

“Do you now?” His tone sharpens just slightly—less playful, more dangerous. “Then tell me…what were you thinking about when you missed me?”

You hesitate. He hears it. “Go on.”

“Your hands,” you say quietly. Quickly.

There’s a pause, his breathing slower now. “…What about them?”

You bite your lip. “I want them on me.”

He exhales slowly, as if you’ve just knocked the wind out of him. “Where?”

Your breath catches. “You really want me to say it?”

There’s a low, quiet laugh in your ear, rich and dark. “Princess…” His voice drags over the word like silk. “Tell me.”

You shiver, clutching the phone tighter. “I—”

“Don’t think,” he cuts in gently, he already knows where your nerves are headed. He was somehow always one step ahead of you. “Just tell me exactly what you were picturing. Where you wanted me.”

His breathing is heavier now, slower. You can hear the faint rustle of fabric, maybe the shift of his hand dragging over his thigh. It’s intimate, feels like he’s leaning right up against your ear, letting you feel every word.

You close your eyes. “…Everywhere.”

“Mmm.” That sound—deep, disapproving, almost a groan. “That’s not good enough. Start at the top. I wanna picture it too.”

Your cheeks are hot, your pulse hammering. “Your hands in my hair.”

“Mm, yeah,” he murmurs, and you hear a faint exhale, he’s seeing it now too. “Fisting in it. Holding you still for me. What else?”

You bite your lip. “On my waist…dragging me into you.”

He groans low, “Jesus,”

The air in your room feels warmer, your skin prickling. You swallow hard. “…On my throat.”

He makes a sound that’s almost a growl. “God, baby…yeah. My fingers curled around your neck. Just enough to feel your pulse.”

You’re squirming now, pressing your thighs together, but he doesn’t let up.

“Keep going.”

Your breath shakes. “On my hips.”

“To hold you still,” he says immediately. “Keep you right where I want you. Let you feel how bad I want you.”

You can hear the faint drag of his breathing now, uneven, matching yours.

“And then?” His voice is almost a whisper.

“…Between my legs,” you admit, so soft you barely hear yourself.

There’s a beat of silence before he groans low in his chest, the sound curling straight down your spine. “Fuck, princess. You trying to kill me?”

You laugh—short, nervous—but it dies quickly when you hear the way he inhales, steadying himself.

“I can see it,” he says after a moment, his tone nearly reverent now. “You spread out for me, all soft and needy. My hands everywhere you just said. And you—looking at me not knowing what to do with yourself.”

You can’t breathe. “I’d know.”

“Hm,” he says, skeptical, his deep voice wrapping around you. “You’d try. But I’d take my time. Make sure you feel every fucking second of it.”

Your heart is pounding, your body thrumming with want. “You’re mean.”

“No,” he says softly, “I’m patient.”

There’s something in the way he says it—measured, deliberate—that makes your chest ache and your stomach flip all at once.

“I wish I had you right now baby, I’d make you say all of that again while my hands were actually on you.”

You let out a soft sound, part whimper, part gasp, and he exhales sharply.

“That’s it,” he says, voice low and rough now. “Give me more of that.”

You swallow hard, your pulse hammering. “More what?”

“That needy little sound you just made,” he murmurs, savoring it. “The one you try to hide in your streams… but I always catch it. The second your legs start to tremble.”

Your cheeks burn. “I wasn’t—”

“Princess.” Just his pet name for you, slow and dangerous, the way he says it when you’ve got no chance of getting away with anything. “Don’t lie to me. You’re already wet for me, aren’t you?”

Your breath catches, and he hears it.

“Thought so.” His tone is almost lazy now, you can hear him leaning back in his chair, comfortable—knowing you’re exactly where he wants you. “If I was there, I’d make you prove it. Let me slip my hand between those soft thighs and get a taste of your sweet pussy.”

Your fingers curl in the sheets. “You’re not here.”

“Then you’ll have to do it for me,” he says simply. “Touch yourself, princess.”

Your breath stutters. “Seunghyun—”

“That wasn’t a no,” he cuts in, smoother now. “Do it. Put your hand where you want mine to be. Go slow.”

You hesitate, but your hand is already sliding down, the thin cotton of your panties warm under your palm.

“Tell me,” he says, voice a shade rougher. “What do you feel?”

“Hot,” you whisper.

He groans low, the sound rolling through you. “Bet you are. Bet I could feel it before I even touched your skin. Now—push them aside. Let yourself breathe for me.”

Your breath comes faster as you hook your thumb under the waistband of your underwear, the cool air a shock against heat.

“That’s my girl,” he says, almost tender. “Now, just rest your fingers there. Don’t move yet. I want you aching for it.”

You whimper softly, and he exhales sharply. “Fuck, baby…You sound perfect.”

“Please,” you beg before you can stop yourself.

He smiles into the phone—you can hear it. “Please what?”

“You know.”

“Cmonn I wanna hear it,” he says, tone darkening. “Use your words...”

Your breath catches. You bite your lip hard enough to sting, heart pounding in your throat.

“Please…touch me.”

The groan that follows is low and unsteady, vibrating through the speaker, needier than before.

“If I could, sweetheart,” he rasps, “I’d have you on my dick by now.”

You hear the faintest rustle on his end—a shift of fabric, the creak of leather, followed by a slow inhale.

Your hips twitch, your fingers brushing against your slick folds without meaning to.

he hums, catching the faint hitch in your breath. “Couldn’t even wait, could you?”

“How did you—”

There’s a quiet sound in the background—a faint, rhythmic drag—that you recognize instantly. “Shh, Don’t answer,” he says, slower now, blowing smoke. his mind half on you and half on the way his own hand is working over his cock. “Just let me listen to you.”

The line goes quiet except for your breathing—faster now, uneven—and the muted, wet slide of his strokes between each of his words.

“Circle your clit now,” he instructs, his voice thick with restraint. “Barely there…tease yourself.”

You obey, your breath trembling as your fingers start their lazy motion.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, and you can hear the faintest hitch in his breathing now. “Keep on dragging over that spot. Drives me fucking insane hearing you whine.”

Your lashes flutter shut with a whimper, his words sinking in. “Feels so good…”

“Im sure…” he says, breathier now, the sound of his fist moving faster underlining every word. “Press harder. Just a little. Lemme hear what it does to you.”

You do, and a broken moan slips out before you can bite it back.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans, rough and low, and you know he’s imagining your fingers exactly where his should be. “…I’d keep my hand there, hold you open with my thumb, and just—” he breaks off with a hiss, “—watch you fall apart for me.”

Your hips roll involuntarily, chasing the pressure, your breath coming faster.

“Don’t rush it,” he warns, the rhythm of his strokes slowing like he’s matching your pace. “I want you to draw it out. Make you come so slow it’s almost torture. You’d hate me for it, wouldn’t you?”

“Yes,” you gasp, “and—I’d still want it.”

His laugh is low, broken around another quiet groan. “I know you would.”

You can hear the wet, steady sound of his strokes now, just under his breathing. He’s not trying to hide it anymore.

“Mmh, you’re making me work for it tonight,” he murmurs, voice low and rough around the edges. “Precious thing like you…shouldn’t even know how to get to me like this.”

Your breath hitches, “Y-You like it.”

“‘Like it’?” he echoes, almost scoffing. “Princess, I’m twice your age and I’m sitting here with my fist wrapped around my cock because you can’t stop making those sweet little sounds for me.” His tone sharpens—dangerously smooth. “Tell me that’s not exactly where you want me.”

You moan softly, the truth spilling out before you can catch it. “It is.”

“Yeah,” he drawls, smug curling at the edges—but it frays into a deep, ragged sound that vibrates right down your spine. “You fucking love this.”

You can’t deny it. “You make me feel…” The words falter on your tongue.

“Tell me,” he urges, voice dipping lower, coaxing.

“…Like I can’t think straight,” you breathe. “Like you’ve already figured out what I need before I even know it.”

There’s a pause—long enough for your pulse to thump in your ears—before he speaks again, darker now. “Good. You don’t have to think. Let me do it for you.”

The warmth in his voice slips under your skin, right to your core.

“Ease a finger inside…feel how ready you are for me.”

You push in, the stretch immediate, slick heat pulling at you. Your palm presses against your clit in the same motion, a double pulse of sensation that makes your moan loudly.

“Holy shit,” He groans, the wet drag of his fist on his cock filters through the phone—You picture his grip working from base to tip, twisting slightly, the slide sticky and obscene.

“Curl your finger,” he says, quieter now. “Find that spot that makes your legs twitch.”

You do, hips rocking into your own hand, the grind of your palm sharpening the pressure on your clit until your thighs tremble.

“Good girl,” he breathes. “If I was there, I’d press down on it while I fucked into you—make you squeeze me so tight I’d have to fight to stay in.”

Your mouth falls open at the thought. “Oh fuck Seunghyun…”

“Keep saying my name like that,” he grunts, the sound of his stroking growing wetter, sharper. “Lets cum together—”

You shift, sliding in a second finger, your body clenching around them. The pressure is perfect, your palm still catching your clit with each movement.

“Match me…slow down and then snap your hips forward. Feel your fingers all the way through you…imagine it’s me inside you.”

You follow his lead, timing each thrust with the slick slap of his strokes, your pleasure climbing with every pass of your fingers. “Im close…”

His breathing quickens, voice raw. “Ah—fuck me too—I’m gripping myself so hard for you right now…my hand’s a fucking mess. I want you to feel that in your cunt, baby. Can you feel it?”

The image hits hard—you can almost feel the weight of him sinking deep, the stretch and sweet burn of it, the slick heat of your wetness mixing with his. Your rhythm stutters into something desperate, chasing every last bit of it.

“Y-yeah…fuck—I can feel it—”

“Feels so real.”

The sound between you turns filthy—wet, rhythmic, the air thick with both of your breathing. Your thighs shake, your fingers curling harder into that spot, palm grinding with sharp, steady pressure. The heat in your belly is white-hot now, unstoppable.

“Right there,” he gasps, voice rough and urgent. “Stay with me princess—ah, fuck!”

It hits all at once—your body bows, your walls clamping around your fingers as the orgasm tears through you. A cry rips from your throat just as his groan cuts in, low and raw, the wet slap of his last stroke ending in a deep, shuddering spill.

The line goes quiet except for your shared panting, the sound as intimate as any touch.

“You still with me?” he murmurs after a moment, voice rough but warm.

“Mhm,” you manage.

A satisfied hum. “Sound wrecked, baby.”

You smile faintly, still catching your breath. “You did that.”

He chuckles. “Yeah…and you were so damn good for me. Never felt anything like that.”

Silence stretches—comfortable now, threaded with the faint sound of him breathing.

Then, softer, “Don’t go quiet on me now.”

“I’m not…” you lie, even as that old squeeze tightens in your chest, that creeping voice telling you you’ve said too much, taken too much.

He hears it—of course he does. His tone shifts, low and deliberate. “Hey. Whatever’s in your head right now…shut it up.”

The words land heavy—not sharp, but firm enough to pull you back. It’s not a command to your body this time; it’s for your mind, the part of you that doubts.

“You listening to me?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.” You can hear the smile in his voice. “Because there’s nothing you could say right now that’d make me want you less. Not a fucking thing.”

You close your eyes, letting the words sink deep, wrapping around the quiet insecurities that still twitch in the back of your mind. He doesn’t rush you. Just breathes with you, patient, like always.

“I mean it,” he says, certain. “You’re my girl.”

The words quiet everything else—the doubts, the noise, the part of you that still thinks you’re just someone on a screen to him. It’s all gone, replaced by the calm hum of knowing he sees you. likes you. You breathe it in like a song you don’t want to end, letting his voice drown out every lie you’ve told yourself.

challenge tags: @lowkeylauraa @loveesiren @thanosspills @stormin9 @smokingblossoms @millytugby

btw hope ur feeling better baby🫶

-🧁

I LOVE YOU SO MUCHH

im feeling alot better thank you babes😭🩷🩷

VAMPIRE NAMGYU HCS

namgyu (player 124) x fem! reader

warnings: DARK themes including extreme violence, blood and gore, non con/dub con, heavy yandere/obsessive behavior, stalking, murder, death, blood drinking, drug abuse, possessiveness, manipulation, corruption kink, choking, biting, forced transformation (he turns reader into a vampire too), dacryphilia, fork violence (lol), degradation, pet names (angel, jagiya), cunnilingus, unprotected sex, monsterfucking, creampie, etc. this can be triggering content proceed with caution. do not engage if you're under the age of 18. takes place during the games (alternate universe)

vampire! namgyu who purposely gets himself into the games—not for money, but for blood; whose finances have already been rotting from years of feeding a drug habit that numbs nothing, just repetitive highs and needles that leave him emptier every time. nothing cuts through the hollow, gnawing hunger that even fresh blood can’t satisfy anymore.

he’s been alive too long. long enough that the thrill has curdled. every decade blurs into the next, every victim tastes the same. club rats with spoiled blood, trust fund brats with powder in their noses and no pulse in their veins, back alley dealers whose blood is bitter and burnt out. it’s all stale now. synthetic. lifeless. nothing excites him anymore. not the feeding. not the aftermath. not even the hunt.

it starts as a rumor, something he overhears in the haze of a trip, murmured by some half-nodding geezer slouched in the corner of the subway. a game, they say, for people who owe too much and have nothing left to lose. no one ever leaves the same—if they even leave at all.

he doesn’t buy it at first. sounding like nothing but a ghost story passed between crazies. and yeah, he’s a vampire, but he’s not that gullible. he’s lived long enough to know bullshit when he hears it.

but still, the words echo. something deep inside him—older than hunger, colder than instinct—starts to rise. his teeth itch, and there’s a hum beneath his skin, a prickle in the air. whatever this is, it’s calling to him.

he starts searching, just enough to confirm the feeling. scattered posts on dead forums, disappearing threads, the same strange terms showing up again and again—“salesman” “children’s games” “456 billion won cash prize” buried in the corners of the dark web are pages full of broken grammar and paranoid code. warnings about dangerous debt collection. invitations that come out of nowhere. vague mentions of money, rules, disappearances.

and it sounds perfect. not because of the prize, but because of the stakes. hundreds of bodies packed into one place, hearts hammering, blood racing, fear so thick it fogs. a buffet of terror, a slaughterhouse pulsing with life. finally, something alive enough for him to sink his teeth into.

what grabs him is the terror—that tight-throated, heartbeat-sprinting, chest-caving fear. the kind that stains the blood hot. he craves that. needs it.

so he digs himself deeper on purpose. he stops paying bills, maxes out whatever credit he has left, even takes out loans he has no intention of repaying. he’s not worried about the fallout—he’s not planning to survive as a player anyway. he’s chasing the kind of debt that gets you taken, just for the thrill of feeding.

vampire! namgyu who doesn’t flinch when the man in the suit finds him. red and blue ddakji in hand, like it’s a casual transaction. he plays the game without a word. lets himself get slapped, again and again. doesn’t even blink.

when the card is offered, he pinches it between two fingers and studies it. circle, triangle, square. no emotion on his face—but his hunger starts to burn again. he’s going to sink his fangs into the first person who sobs in front of him, who begs for mercy, who bleeds fast and alive. or at least, that was the plan.

vampire! namgyu who enters the games as player 124. he wakes up in that stiff green tracksuit, tilts his head as the others line up to take their photos—sharp eyes and his tongue pressed to the roof of his mouth, already imagining how they’ll taste once fear starts pumping through their veins.

he can smell it in the air before it even happens. the dread, the adrenaline, the slow churn of panic. it’s a better high than anything he’s had in years.

but everything changes when he steps into the dormitory and smells you for the first time.

vampire! namgyu who goes completely still the second your scent hits him. his jaw clenching and his pupils dilating, fangs throbbing in his gums.

suddenly everyone else reeks of burnt-out vices. their blood laced with corruption, crime, and too many bad choices. but you—you smell like innocence and something syrupy. copper and purity and sin, all tangled into one perfect, intoxicating drag of breath. his knees nearly buckle. “fuck.” he murmurs under his breath, licking the inside of his cheek. already deciding no one else is getting anywhere near a human who smells this sweet.

and just like that nobody else in this entire place matters to him anymore. he’d been prepared to take the first warm body that broke in front of him, to claw through flesh and drink until something finally hit right again. but now? all he wants is you.

vampire! namgyu who stalks you from the very beginning—he doesn’t hide it. doesn’t even pretend. during meals, he sits directly across from you, eyes half-lidded and mouth still, his food untouched. his gaze never leaves the hollow of your throat, watching the way it shifts when you swallow, how your pulse flickers just beneath the skin.

he “sleeps” only a bunk away, always turned to face you. he doesn’t actually sleep of course. he just lies there, still as death, watching you in the dark. listening to the rhythm of your breaths, cataloging the way they hitch when nightmares wake you. sometimes you find yourself staring back, unnerved, but he only smirks back—eyes gleaming with quiet knowing, as if he’s already seen how this ends.

he follows you from game to game with a lazy gait and bloodlust simmering in his chest. as long as you’re near him, nothing touches you. it takes a while for you to notice. the way a stray elbow never connects. during mingle, he chooses you—making sure no one else can get close. the player who lunged at you in panic? gone, bloodied and limping before you even turn your head.

he studies you. watches the way you jump at violence. how your hands shake after each game. the way your throat tightens when someone dies too close. he watches the flutter under your jaw when your pulse spikes, memorizes it. imagines it under his tongue, how sweet it would feel to press his fangs into skin made just for him.

vampire! namgyu who votes to stay without a flicker of doubt. he doesn’t glance at the other players, doesn’t entertain the fantasy of release. his fist hits the glowing blue o, firm and final. he takes the patch without hesitation and presses it to his jacket, already turning away before the machine finishes processing. he’s not here for freedom, doesn’t want mercy. he wants blood, your blood. he hasn’t fed once since arriving, not even a drop. he’s been saving himself for you.

vampire! namgyu who watches as you step up to the machine slowly, visibly rattled. your eyes flicker around the room nervously and then to him for just a second. then you press your hand to the red x, leave.

did you really think you could escape him? his stare doesn’t waver. no surprise, no fury—just a stillness that deepens by the second. fear was expected. of course you’d choose to go home. but thinking that would save you from him? that was almost laughable.

some part of you must still believe you have a say in this. that fate can be undone with the press of a button. that this connection—this pull—can be severed just because you’re scared.

he doesn’t lunge at you though, not yet. just watches as you melt back into the crowd, arms pulled tight around yourself as if that vote hadn’t just snapped the last thread of restraint he had left. as if walking away changed anything, but it didn’t. not for him.

because now you’re not just the only thing he wants, you’re the one thing he’s been starving for and you’ve just made it impossible for him to hold back.

vampire! namgyu who doesn’t blink when the majority swings to stay. doesn’t react when the cheers break out when players grin at each other with murder already in their eyes.

he never doubted what the vote would be. never doubted you’d end up trapped here with him. you sealed that the moment he saw (smelled) you and now, there’s no way out. not for you. not until he’s tasted you. not until he’s buried himself so deep inside you, you forget what it felt like to exist without him. not until you understand exactly what you’ve done to him and exactly who you belong to.

vampire! namgyu who sits perfectly still while the room spirals into panic, unmoving as players whisper desperate alliances. there’s a feverish edge to the air—fear thickening it, turning each breath sharp. people pace in tight circles, eyes flicking toward shadows, already trying to predict who’ll snap first. but he doesn’t have to guess. the crack already runs deep through him, quiet and irreversible. he snapped long before the rest of them even realized they were breaking. now, he waits patiently, eyes on the flickering ceiling bulb, waiting for the lights to go out so he can finally make his move.

and when the speaker buzzes “lights out in 20 minutes” his lips grow into a smile. small, but nonetheless hungry. he leans forward just slightly on the bunk, his eyes fixed in your direction. you’re pacing, wringing your hands, biting your bottom lip raw and the sight alone makes his breath hitch.

the timer hits zero and the lights flicker once, then again, before cutting out entirely on the third blink. the room erupts—screams tearing through the dark, fists slamming into bone, feet skidding across concrete slick with panic. bodies drop fast and hard.

vampire! namgyu who rises slowly through it all, head low, pupils blown wide, moving not with fear but with intent, each step deliberate as he threads through bodies and blood, hunting you like his prey.

vampire! namgyu who moves like a shadow, effortless and cold. he doesn’t even look at the players he cuts down—fork in hand, slashing throats, severing tendons, leaving carnage in his wake. it coats his face, soaks into his clothes. he’s not killing for survival—he’s clearing the path. every body dropped is just one step closer to you.

because the second the lights went out, your scent bursted in the air—ripe with fear, the stench heavy in his nose. he felt it snap in his gut, sharp as a wire pulled tight. it blinded him, made his fangs drop and his cock throb against the fabric of his pants, his composure unraveling thread by thread. it’s all he can feel now, all he can think about.

vampire! namgyu who finds you curled up between the bunk beds, chest hitching with shallow, panicked breaths. one hand is clamped over your mouth to keep the sobs in, the other wrapped tight around your knees. your entire body trembles, shoulders jerking with every shaky inhale.

he moves through the wreckage with purpose, a bloodhound locked onto scent. his eyes flicker faintly in the dark, catching on each hellish flash of light that stutters through the room. there’s a fork in his hand, slick with something, and blood streaked across his cheek, half-dried. his mouth twitches at the corners—not quite a smile, more a grimace, stretched and feral.

you don’t even see him at first. but he sees you. and when you finally glance up—wide-eyed, shaking, lips parted in a quiet, hopeless gasp—it’s already too late. you run. and he lets you. just for a moment. just long enough to enjoy the cat and mouse. then he moves.

you don’t make it far—barely five feet before his hand twists into your hair and yanks you back in one cruel, breathless motion. you stumble, heels dragging against the floor, but he holds you upright, forcing you to follow. tugging you backward, step by step, away from the others. behind a collapsed pile of bunk beds, tucked between shadows—where no one will see. where no one will come. where he can finally corner you.

he drags you through the dark like you weigh nothing, fingers locked in your hair, knuckles bruising your scalp. and then without warning he yanks you upright and slams you against the wall. the impact rattles through your spine, knocks the air from your chest, makes your head spin. you barely have time to breathe before he’s on you, body pressed flush to yours.

one hand clamps around your throat. the other grips your hip, fingers digging deep into flesh. you can feel his breath on your face—too sharp, too still, wrong in a way your body registers before your mind can name it.

then his eyes shift, burning red. not metaphorically—glowing, pulsing, inhuman. and when his lips curl back, it’s not a sneer. it’s a reveal. long, gleaming fangs catching in the low light. you sob, soft, stunned. you can’t believe what you’re seeing.

“you voted to leave me,” he rasps, voice unraveling as his mouth lingers at your ear. “thought you could just get away from this? from me?”

you twist, panic clawing its way up your throat, but his grip only tightens. he shushes you—softly, mockingly—his lips brushing your ear now. “no one’s listening.” his fangs twitch where they skim your cheek, hunger thrumming just beneath the surface. “shit,” he breathes, drunk on the scent of you. “you smell even better up close. i’ve been so fucking patient.” you sob, and he groans, the sound hitting something deep, something starved. “don’t cry yet, angel,” he murmurs, voice unraveling with want. “not until i’ve had my taste.”

vampire! namgyu who finally has you cornered and can’t hold back. he doesn’t bite you right away. he wants to. his whole body’s trembling with it. fangs bared, tongue wetting the corner of his mouth but he waits. drags it out. keeps you pinned.

he watches the panic bloom behind your eyes. the shallow rise and fall of your chest. the way your pulse jumps beneath your skin, fluttering so fast he could almost weep. it’s been decades since blood called to him like this. since anything stirred the hunger into something close to madness.

and it’s not just the blood. it’s you now too. the way you tremble. the way your voice caught in your throat when he slammed you into the wall. the scent of your terror, sweet and metallic, cutting through the rot of the dorm. you’re not just his prey anymore. you’re his.

his hand on your neck slides lower—cold fingers bruising, pressing into soft, warm skin like he’s trying to memorize every dip and tremble. “you’re so warm jagi~” he says, and the word hits wrong—too intimate, too familiar, rewriting your story in his head and expecting you to play along. his breath skims your throat.

vampire! namgyu who presses his lips to your throat as if in a vow—still not biting, just breathing you in, trembling with restraint, every inhale cracking him further open. his hands begin to move with purpose now, sliding up your sides over the loose green fabric of your uniform, palms dragging slow and heavy, peeling away your humanity inch by inch.

“off,” he says, already grabbing at the zipper. “take it off. can’t smell you properly with it on.” he doesn’t wait. just yanks it down himself, the metal teeth shrieking. your jacket falls open, and his eyes flare red again—burning in the dark. he shoves it off your shoulders roughly, exposing the slope of your chest, your stomach, his cold hands already sliding under your t-shirt, greedy for bare skin—for proof you’re real, that you’re his. then he’s gripping your track pants and dragging them down in one harsh pull, not gentle, not careful—just taking. your underwear goes with them, shredded on one side from how quick he pulls.

he groans again when he sees what he’s uncovered. “fuck angel,” he breathes, fingers ghosting over the slick heat between your thighs. “i’m gonna fuckin’ ruin you.”

but he doesn’t take you against the wall. not when your knees are buckling, not when your breath stutters in your throat. not when he wants you spread out for him, every inch exposed, every sound you make echoing beneath him. so he grabs you, drags you to the nearest bunk, handling you like something precious and unholy all at once like a man possessed.

vampire! namgyu who throws you onto the bed like you weigh nothing, and climbs on after you—one hand pushing your shoulder down as he climbs over top of you, trapping you and looming above you with that same fevered look. you kick at him once, instinctively, but he catches your leg and laughs.

“still fighting?” he murmurs, voice gone low and playful and terrifyingly fond. “so cute~”

his hand slips under your thigh now, pushing your legs open until your knees are spread wide. obscene. vulnerable. your cunt glistening in the dark, glinting with your irresistible slick and he moans.

“fuck, you’re wet,” he whispers, dragging two fingers through your folds—soaked, hot against his cold skin. his gaze lifts, pupils blown wide, mouth parted. “i should ruin this…” he mumbles, voice trembling with restraint. “make sure no one even thinks about touching you here ever again. keep it mine, jagiya.”

his fingers press deeper, smearing your arousal messily over your folds. another groan leaves him, strained and involuntary.

“i’m gonna eat you so slow. kiss this pretty pussy and tongue you open until you’re crying—until you’re making those sweet little sounds i’ve been torturing myself with ever since i got here.” and then his head dips.

vampire! namgyu who eats your pussy nasty—tongue greedy, lips sucking at your clit with a lewd, wet slurping that makes your thighs jerk around his head. but he shoves them back down, rough and unbothered, shoulders locking your legs open as he keeps going.

his fangs graze the inside of your thigh and you squeal, body jolting, but he still doesn’t bite yet. he wants you to beg for it first.

his nails dig crescent moons into your skin. he doesn’t stop licking your slit, even when your hips writhe and your hands shove uselessly at his hair, desperate to pull him back—or maybe closer. you can’t tell anymore.

“so sweet,” he groans between licks. “fuckin’ knew you’d be.”

you’re crying now—confused, aroused, terrified—and he loves it. drinks it in like the taste of your pussy. he groans into you, nose nudging your clit, tongue dragging through your slick again and again, savoring you. and then he bites.

not your neck. thats for later. just the soft meat of your thigh—deep, brutal—and you scream.

he whimpers the moment he feels your blood on his tongue, mouth locked around the puncture, sucking slow. blood spills over his lips, drips down your leg in hot, runny trails. he licks it up, doesn’t stop eating you while he drinks, tongue now painting red patterns into your skin, smearing blood and spit across your thighs in messy, reverent strokes.

vampire! namgyu who can’t stop. not now. he tongues you through your first orgasm with a shudder and a snarl, lapping up every drop. you cry out, body convulsing—but he holds you down, lips locked around your clit until you’re shaking and sobbing and coming again, unable to stop.

“that’s it, angel, cum for me. soak my fucking face.”

he pulls back panting, face blood-streaked and wild-eyed. his mouth is a mess—slick and blood smeared across his lips, shining on his chin, clinging wet to the sharp edge of his jaw. he’s trembling, breath ragged, tongue darting out to taste what’s left of you, what’s still dripping down his face.

his hair clings to his skin in dark, damp strands, curling where sweat and blood have soaked through. loose pieces fall into his eyes, framing his face in chaotic waves, sticking to his cheeks and forehead as he stares up at you with a crooked smile. he looks devastating like this. unhinged. ruined. almost beautiful in a way that can’t be explained.

but that’s quick to change. his hands clamp down on your hips and, without warning, he flips you—effortless, inhumanly fast. your breath knocks out of you as your chest hits the mattress, arms scrambling beneath you. he presses down hard, his palm between your shoulder blades. “you gonna take it like a good girl, jagiya?”

vampire! namgyu who shoves you down, face-first into the sheets, and yanks his cock free with a sharp, frustrated hiss. it’s flushed dark, swollen, slick with precome—the head glistening from how long he’s been holding back.

he doesn’t prepare you. just fists your hips with bruising force and presses the blunt head of his cock to your dripping cunt. you’re still wet with what he left you with earlier and it makes his jaw go slack as he buries himself in one brutal thrust, bottoming out in a single, merciless stroke.

you scream into the sheets and he gasps. your cunt clamps down around him immediately—too tight, too wet, too fucking perfect—and he twitches inside you, eyes rolling back.

“oh fuck,” he breathes, voice catching. “angel, you—hah—you feel so good squeezing me in.”

his hips snap forward again, then again—no rhythm, no restraint. just the loud, filthy slap of skin on skin and the wet drag of his cock dragging you open over and over.

your moans come in helpless, gasping bursts, every thrust knocking the breath from your lungs. every grind against your cervix making your legs tremble. he leans over you, panting into your shoulder, his fangs grazing your sweat-slick skin.

“shhh, shhh, listen,” he whispers, “d’you hear that? how messy this pussy sounds for me? fuck, you’re a mess…made to be used like this, yeah? fucked full and crying—you’re so pretty when you cry.”

you sob something that might be his name, but it catches, shredded and broken. “thats right,” he croons, voice lilting and breathless, almost sweet. “fall apart on it.”

you’re crying now, legs shaking, hands scrambling for the sheets—and he just laughs, a ragged, high sound, grabbing the back of your neck and forcing you down harder. he grinds in to the hilt, and your whole body jolts. “you’re fucking mine,” he pants, lips brushing your spine. “no one else can fuck you like this,” he hisses, voice cracking into something low and mean. “i’ll kill the next motherfucker who even looks at you too long.”

you sob, choking on another moan, and he groans—grinding into you harder, “k-kill everyone here if it means i get to keep you under me like this.” he breathes, forehead pressed to your back.

vampire! namgyu who pins you in place, fucking you harder, deeper, until you swear you can feel him in your stomach. and then he bites your neck.

no warning. no mercy. just sharp fangs tearing into your throat as he thrusts into you one final time, burying himself to the base. your scream rips through the air as blood floods his mouth, his cock twitching deep inside you—your orgasm hitting you so hard it blanks your mind, blacks out your vision, leaves your body convulsing under him.

your pussy squeezes around him like a vice, spasming uncontrollably as he drinks from your neck. his hips stutter, then still, and he groans low and savage against your skin as he cums—hot and thick and endless, flooding you until you’re full of it, dripping with it, ruined by him completely.

vampire! namgyu who doesn’t stop sucking even after filling you. the high too overwhelming for him. you feel every pull of his mouth, every greedy drag of blood from your veins as your heartbeat slows. your limbs go weak. your body trembles, still clenching around his cock, still fluttering with aftershocks.

he only stops when you go limp. then, slowly, he lifts his head—lips glossy red, eyes glowing—and turns your face toward him and kisses you, slow and messy, his tongue pushing into your mouth, smearing your own blood across your tongue. the taste is metallic, sticky, vile—but he kisses you like it’s holy. like he’s worshipping you.

“you’ll feel it soon,” he whispers, cupping your cheek, blood still dripping from your neck. “the hunger. the ache. that burn in your gut? that’s me now. that’s forever.” his voice is soft, almost sweet—but it’s wrong. twisted.

“don’t be scared, angel. i did this for us. you were never getting out of here without me.”

“it was always going to end up like this.”

your lashes flutter. the world dims. your blood is still seeping from the wound, cooling on your skin, and your body is so cold now—so far away—but he stays close. stays inside you, cock softening but still buried, refusing to separate himself from you even now.

“we’ll win this game together okay?” he murmurs into your skin, curling his arms around your slack body, stroking your hair with bloody fingers. your eyes close and his voice is the last thing you hear before the darkness takes you.

vampire! namgyu who lives up to his promise and turns you—because of course he does. he said he would. said it over and over while he fucked you raw and fed from your throat, while you cried and begged and came for him, barely able to speak through the haze of pain and pleasure.

“mine,” he breathes as your body goes still in his arms, lips stained with your blood. “forever.”

-🧁