#vamp!reader

The hand not braced against him supported most of your weight, the flesh of your palm digging into small cogs and scraps of metal that had been missed by his hurried hands as he made space for you, his lips too busy with yours to pay his usual exacting attention. 

His own hands were currently pawing at your waist, fingers digging into the skin not painfully, but enough to anchor himself as his lips trailed across your throat, heady breaths warming your deathly cold skin, following the trail of frankly obscene kisses he languished across your flesh.

His thighs met yours with every thrust, burying himself completely with each controlled roll of his hips, dragging depraved grunts from his throat – sounds that were reserved only for you, for the way your walls dragged him in, fluttering around him. He wasn’t rushed, but he was hardly reserved, aiming for that perfect sweet spot that had his name falling from your lips like a litany, the sweet sound of your devotion driving him to the brink of madness. 

He pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, a surprisingly delicate hand tiling your chin to hold your gaze. 

“Drink.” 

Your breath caught in your throat under the weight of his demand, your mind already hazy, struggling to focus. “Wh-what?” 

His thumb pushed between your lips, watching you expectantly, how your brows furrowed, confused, as he pushed up at your lip crudely, smirking as he exposed the gum, finding the fang half-burried beneath. 

"You have nothing to be ashamed of.” 

It was only a scratch, the sudden drag of his thumb across the sharp exposed edge, but the droplet masqueraded as an entree, soaking into your tongue. 

Another sharp roll of his hips punctuated his repeated demand. “Drink. It's yours.” 

There was no resisting. Not now. Not when he was all you could smell, taste, feel.

You could hear the grin in his groans as your hands wrapped around the back of his neck, threading into the curls at the base of his skull as you tugged him into you, possessed body and soul by the metallic twang that slid down your throat, tongue dragging across the skin as you searched for that quiet hum like some esoteric ritual, until you found your mark. 

Unlike the thin skin of his wrist, the flesh at his throat didn’t snap. No, it gave way, fangs sinking beneath the surface slowly, finding purchase against the muscle and tendon until, at last, his blood spilled slowly, coating your tongue. 

The growl pulled from his throat sounded through you, skin buzzing beneath your lips as you drew in mouthfuls, hot and sticky, spilling from the corner of your mouth as you gasped, tongue rushing to catch the drips as they threatened to stain his chest, running like scars across the pale expanse, catching at the edge of his metallic heart, disappearing into the intricate lattice work. 

It wasn’t euphoria, it was sweeter. It was every nerve alive at once, it was Isaac filling you in every way he could, dragging across your twitching walls, coating your tongue, dripping down your chin, ghosting across your skin. 

Overwhelming but not enough, pacifying and maddening, all at once. 

This, you realised, was how you wanted to spend your eternity. 

The thud of his hands against the table edge resounded around the hollow workshop, tingling fingers clawing to find purchase as he fought the spreading numbness, knees weakening, vision hazing. 

“Isaac!—“ 

Any attempt at protest was hastily silenced, a shaky hand gripping your jaw with half the intensity you were sure he’d intended, smearing his blood across your chin. 

His hips stuttered, pupils blown, skin slick. In the pale glow, he resembled a madman, curls sticking to his forehead, others sticking at odd angles from your fingers’ rampage... 

You couldn’t help but think he was beautiful. 

The crush of his lips against yours, matched with the sudden roll of his hips, forced the sterile breath from your lungs. 

He revelled in it – tasting what you did. He wished only that he could feel it, too. To live inside your skin for but a moment, to understand what it was to be nourished from devotion alone. And for you, in his, to know what it was like to be loved by you. 

His hips stuttered, rhythm failing him as he overwhelmed himself, the smear of blood staining his chin as your tongue rolled across his, letting you take what you needed as he devoured you, blood tinged fingertips slipping between your bodies to find your clit, rolling over the swollen bud messily, lacking his usual finesse as his usually sharp mind clouded, starved of oxygen as he bled for you, willingly.

Your gasp near pulled the air from his lungs, your body shuddering against his as you came undone, hands gripping at the forearm pressed between you as he refused to let up, your fingers pressing into the newly-scarred skin an invisible force trapped your body against his, stopping your quivering hips jerking away from him as he fucked you through it, lips barely leaving yours as he swallowed your cries. 

“My love—” it was a ragged, depraved plea at best. 

But it was all he needed, tumbling over the edge himself, hips stilling against your thighs as he positively trembled, head dropping to your shoulder with the force of it, mind swimming, lightheaded. 

Your shaky hand found his hair again, stroking down the sweat-curled locks as he panted against you, red-stained lips ghosting across your throat, barely-there kisses blessing the skin, crossing your empty pulse with what remained of his energy. 

Even now, you couldn’t resist, the inordinate scent of him flooding your senses, the angle of his head offering the blood-soaked skin of his messy throat to you as if it were a platter.

Your head bowed, tongue dragging along the two small holes in his neck, catching the slow seep of life that risked being wasted. 

“My beautiful boy…” 

The words, muttered against the clammy column of his throat, drew a whimper from his chest, forehead pressing heavily into the crook of your neck, the exhaustion settling deep into his bones, veins turning to ice. “Thank you.”

He realised, then, that despite the pathetic fool you reduced him to, the loss of faculty he otherwise prided himself on, he would have you do it all again in an instant – his life in your hands. 

He realised, then, that you were the one thing he would never be able to quit. 

VAMP!READER, who met Carlisle after her transformation, who promised her a new life without all the torment and would give her a proper family. It took ages for her to be resistant to human blood, and can even last weeks surrounded in a pool of blood.

VAMP!READER, who grows to hate her vampiric nature, but knows that if it wasn’t for her death, she would’ve never met EDWARD CULLEN.

VAMP!READER, who dresses like she just came out of the Victorian Era, but a more modernized version of it. She’s known for her lethal gaze, one that can pick you apart with just a glance. Whose growl makes even older vampires slightly intimidated. But deep down, she’s a yearner. Underneath her observant and lustful traits is a girl who wants to be loved just as hard as she loves. Who wishes to settle down and start a new chapter in her life, one where she can just forget her past and do all the things she wishes she was limited to in her previous life.

VAMP!READER, who spends majority of her life with the Cullen family. Whose greatest frenemy is ROSALIE HALE. Despite their cover, Rosalie and Reader both love and hate each other’s guts. Rosalie is still very resentful of her nature and usually takes it out on Reader. Reader, even though she shares the same sentiment, has found some sort of peace with it and brings it up in every argument. While neither will admit, they care for each other deeply, seen as when they need a shoulder to lean on, the other is the only one that will understand them. And then they go back to arguing like there is no tomorrow. True sisterhood. VAMP!READER, though she is happy, she can’t shake the feeling of still being so empty; like she’s missing the final puzzle piece. Everyone around her can see it, her longing gaze, the wistful sighs. She thinks she’s being too selfish.

VAMP!READER, who after moving to Forks, meets BELLA SWAN. The first she notices is her scent but that’s not what makes her stay. It’s the fact that for once, VAMP!READER feels whole.

“Azriel.” My palm lays flat on his forearm, his cool skin blending in with the chill of my own. Damned Vampyr blood, I miss the warmth of my fae blood coursing through me.

“You won’t hurt me. I am not afraid of you.” His teeth grit but he looks to me, pupils blown so wide that the golden-flecked hazel of his eyes has nearly dissipated. “It was blood-lust, a matter which you have no control over. Everything is alright now but we need to get you upstairs.”

He’s silent, head hanging low, entire body still quivering. A small shake of his head barely registers as he succumbs to his own self-loathing. The shadows beneath his eyes mirror the despair flowing from his end of the bond. “Feyre is okay. You, too, will be okay. But you need to feed now or this will get so much worse.”

Before he can object, my fingers gently grasp the mottled, tan skin of his wrist and I winnow us to our room.

“It’s okay, Azriel.” I whisper upon deaf ears. “You can’t help this. It will be fine.”

The shame that now radiates freely through our bond nearly causes me to stumble. The noble Shadowsinger, protector and defender, succumbing to the basest of instincts that are hard enough to quell for a well-controlled vamp, let alone one as recently turned as he. This isn’t his fault. Once he’s fed, we will speak on that but for now…

“Azriel. I need you to focus on me.” His gaze meets mine and this time it holds something else. His nostrils flare, scenting me and the familiar fragrance of our chamber that he’s become so accustomed to recently. My hands guide him to sit on the edge of the bed and I straddle his lap, his hands instantly grip my hips, pressing me down against him. One would think the move was sexual, but I was well-aware it was the grip of a predator entrapping his prey.

“Feed.” I whisper.

A brief flicker of question crossed his steely gaze as he fights the urge to latch on desperately.

“Azriel. Now.” The authoritative tone in my voice seems to do the trick as before the command has finished crossing my lips, his elongated canines flash and he’s on me.

“Take what you need, Az.” The brief sting of his fangs puncturing the pulsing, delicate skin of my neck elicits a slight gasp from my throat. With a deep suck and a needy whimper, Azriel begins to feed, his tongue lapping at the blood pouring from my skin.

His hands roam fervently, the lack of control apparent as they can’t seem to settle on where to rest. Eventually one scarred hand reaches my breast, squeezing and caressing, his fingers tweaking and pulling a nipple until it’s peaked.

The frenzy begins to affect me, a wash of euphoria leaving a light geeling - a welcome reprieve from the heaviness of the day.

In moments, I’m lost to it, fighting to stay present as Azriel’s laps grow vigorous. With a flip, he has me on my back, pinned beneath him on the bed, he takes a particularly long draw of blood ending with his hips grinding into me.

Eventually, his feeding becomes slightly more relaxed and less frenzied, the more primal kind of lust only beginning.

I dig my fingers into the raven locks of his hair, focusing on the sensation, steadying myself against the intoxicating blend of lust and hunger.

The warmth of his tongue against my neck is like electric to my nerves as jolts of pleasure course down my torso and straight to my core.

I need him. Fuck. I need him so badly.

No, I don’t need. I want. And there’s a difference between the two.

Just like in the days after he’d turned, after we’d accepted the bond, the urge to feed and claim wash away any semblance of reason or control from my mate. But I’ve been turned long enough, I can ground us and prevent it from going too far. For once, I have the freedom of control. I wasn’t always so fortunate.

“Az” I whimper as a finger slips under the panties beneath my skirts. He groans at the wetness he finds awaiting him. I rock my hips against his hand in a plea for more friction but he pulls it back, adjusting himself between us until I feel the girth of his head prodding at my entrance. He withdraws his mouth, wings flaring slightly with the motion as he stares into my eyes, so deeply I swear he can see straight to my soul, and all the darkness lingering within.

Without breaking eye contact his hands grip my waist and spear me down the length of him. I throw my head forward, letting out a muffled scream into his shoulder. I stay still, chest heaving as I catch my breath, taking a moment to adjust to the sudden intrusion, his size is jarring in the best of ways.

“Perfect.” Azriel growls when I give a little shift of my hips. His hair tickles my ear as he leans in to press a surprisingly tender kiss to my neck.

I lean back, the motion sending crashing waves of bliss through me. I meet his eyes this time only to find that his gaze has now softened, his pupils not quite as wide.

“Welcome back.” I whisper, brushing aside the stray hairs that have fallen over his forehead, marveling in the beauty of my mate.

He blinks and I could almost swear that tears cast a watery glaze over his hazel eyes.

“I’m.. so sorry.” He choked out.

“We’ll talk later, Az. Right now it’s just you and me. What do you need?”

I start to lift off of him giving him the space he needs to collect his thoughts but he grips my hips even more firmly.

“Stay?” He requests.

My smile doesn’t meet my eyes as the pain in his own cracks the armor over my heart. “Always.”

I loop my arms around his neck and he loosens his reign on my hips, instead wrapping his arms tightly around me and pulling me to his chest. I rest my head against the muscle there, soaking in the moment.

The kind of moment I now remember that I wished so desperately for centuries ago.

I won’t focus on the sting of the memories that have recently come back to me. We will have time to talk things through and I haven’t been able to discuss much without losing myself to trauma yet. I’d much rather soak in this moment than ruin it with my hyperventilating. I close my eyes and revel in his grip.

“My mate.” Azriel whispers. “I’m so grateful you’re here.”

I won’t let him see the way the words impact me. The hell that I went through to be here in this moment. The way that his hold leaves me entertaining the thought that it could possibly have been worth it all. The way that thought itself slices deep through me.

Stray tears fall over my bottom lashes onto his chest. If he feels them he doesn’t say anything. He knows I’m not in the right mindset yet and won’t press. Another reason that I’m so grateful for this male.

Instead I close my eyes and focus on the two other words he’d whispered. “My mate.”

I replay it over and over in my head until I drift off to sleep, my mate still buried inside me.

———————-

“The child is yours.”

“Impossible.” The cold voice replies, grating against the very marrow of my bones.

“You know very well that it’s possible.”

A discontented hiss crackles through the tension filling the space between the beautiful, cruel male and myself. His ethereal features the mirror opposite of his rotten insides. I wonder if death would have been kinder than this.

“I hardly imagine that a fetus could survive what I did, let alone the agony of being made into..” I swallow the lump of disgust in my throat, knowing better than to push him too far. “This.”

A cruel grin crosses his face, his freezing palm caressing my jaw, razor tipped nails break the skin of my cheek and I can smell the iron tang of the blood droplets forming beneath them. “and what exactly did you go through, my dear?”

I furrow my brow, trying to remember who and where I was before him. I know there was life before this but the memories are so blurred. I don’t know what’s real and what is fabricated. I remember waking knowing I was carrying a child but I remember nothing of the conditions leading to it, of whom had fathered it. It wasn’t the bastard before me, but if this child has any hope of survival, then I’ll have to play his game.

He only lets out a bone-chilling laugh, squeezing my cheeks tighter and pressing a kiss to my lips. His sharp fangs piercing my lower lip as he nips.

I resist the knee-jerk instinct to pull back.“Centuries here have been rather dull, I suppose I’m due for an heir at some point or another. It could liven things up in this space.” He gestures to the darkened cave, illuminated by fires and littered with ornate cob-web dusted trinkets he’s seemed to have collected over the years.

A knot forms in my stomach, clenching tightly. Let him believe the life I carry belongs to him, survive, it’s the only option. It’s the only way this child survives.

“Feed, dark one. You seem to be getting quite insolent in your current state.”

I hesitate as a small show of defiance before his voice gains a sharper edge.

“Feed.” He commands.

We feed and fuck for hours until he tires of me.

It feels good, physically, but it’s empty. Void of emotion. Much like me.

Warmth envelopes me and I drift away from that wretched cave, into starry skies twinkling in and out of dancing shadows.

——————————

I wake from my memory-infused dream state, opening my eyes to find Azriel’s wings draped around me. His muscled chest rising and falling in steady breaths against my back. At some point he must have removed me from his lap. I have no idea what time it is and I don’t care to find out.

I’m not in a cave. I’m safe and I imagine if a crevice formed between his wings I’d see his shadows dutifully cocooning us as well. I inhale the mist-chilled cedar scent of my mate, taking slow, steady breaths.

I am not in a cave with my captor.

I am safe.

I am home.

Tomorrow I will share what I can remember with him. I will tell him of my daughter. My eyelids grow heavy once more and I drift back to sleep.

No dreams plague me this time.

——————————————

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“I don’t - fuck, Gaz, stop,” you pleaded, eyes rolling back as he rolled his hip in a perfect way, your mind turning into nothing but static for a moment. The sight of his pretty neck exposed like this, head tipped back, offering himself to you - it was so tempting. But you couldn’t. Shouldn’t.

It was bad enough that the two of you were fucking, you weren’t supposed to be. Price had been clear: nobody fuck the secretary - and nobody offer their blood to the secretary or he would get you a muzzle. It wasn’t unusual for vampires to be muzzled but it was fucking humiliating.

To be fair you had tried. Kept your distance, remained professional, but what the fuck where you supposed to do when Kyle fuckin’ Garrick fluttered his lashes at you - and after one too many drinks, admitted that you were the hottest thing to ever walk the earth? As if it wasn’t him? He had legit cried when you didn’t want to have sex with him that night, his drunken mind taking it as an entire rejection, meaning that you didn’t even like him. So yeah, you tried, two months had passed by now… and while you did fuck like rabbits, you hadn’t drunk Gaz’ blood. Not that he didn’t want you to, because bloody hell that man could beg prettily.

His hands were on your hips, fingers sinking into your soft skin; you could hear his pulse, it echoed through your ears. He moved his hips again, pulling you back to the moment.

“Holy fuck,” you whispered, focusing your gaze down on him again; he was smiling smugly, brown eyes taking you in, tongue swiping along his bottom lip slowly. He was fully naked beneath you, like an adonis, a man that could have inspired every artist to create their masterpiece. His eyes were blown from the lust and you clenched around his cock.

“Please, sweetheart,” he asked, moving you up a little, urging you to ride him again, so you did – one of the advantages of being a vampire was the fact you could continue to ride him forever, without your legs hurting. His cock filled you up so nicely, stretching your hole, the sound of your wet pussy almost felt too loud in his little room - knowing it would be bad if the two of you were caught but you didn’t care. Your fingers rested on his chest, feeling the heat from his body against your slightly cooler one, helping you keep your balance. 

The sounds of pleasure leaving him were addicting to you, something you wished you could get to hear all the time. 

“Gaz,” you moaned his name softly, riding him harder, your bodies colliding harder and harder, the thrust making thrills of pleasure shoot through you. So close to the edge, yet so far. The fangs hidden inside your gums arched, wanting to slide out, wanting to bite him, mark him - drink that sweet blood you could smell beneath his beautiful skin.

His grip hardened - and he suddenly moved, sitting up, impaling you fully on his cock, making you mewl out loud and curl your toes. His hands moved to rest on your ass, following the stretchmarks on your skin that he had chosen to memorize, kissing and licking them whenever he had a change. You grinded down on him, getting some friction - one of his hands stayed on your ass, while he licked two fingers on his right hand, before sliding it down in front of you, playing with your clit. 

“I want it, sweetheart,” he said, pupils blown with lust as he looked up through his lashes at your red eyes, “want it so badly, want you to bite me–”

“Can’t,” you whined, grinding against him, his cock filling you perfectly, tip of his cock teasing your cervix, pubes tickling against your own, sweat being shared between the two of you, “Price will muzzle me.”

You wouldn’t be able to kiss him then; wouldn’t be able to lay down with your head against his chest in the same way, wouldn’t be able to sneak off with him, spend the time with him that you shouldn’t.

“Won’t tell,” he whispered, “promisepromisepromis–”

You whined in despair.

“I know, but what - ah fuck - yes - right - what if he finds out?”

“He won’t,” Gaz promised, somehow managing to hump up into you even when sitting like this, “I wan’t it anyways, nothin’ wrong with it then.”

“Kylekylekyle,” you mewled his name like a prayer, again and again, as if he was a god you could worship, as if nothing else mattered; it didn’t really. The last two months, despite having to be around each other in secret, had been the best in your otherwise long life. It was as if Kyle had made colors appear in your gray world again, making you laugh, cry, feel. Feel good, bad, happy, confused, silly. You wanted everything with him and god if you didn’t want to sink your teeth into his skin.

Wanted to show him the pleasure that one could get from being bitten, wanted to taste the nectar of his body, wanted to mark him; letting every other vampire now, just from the smell, that he was a taken man. That he was yours.

You felt high on the pleasure he was bringing you and your hands dug into his shoulders a little, as you grinded against him, the pleasure blossoming between your bodies. You could feel his cock twitch inside you. 

“I’m close,” you whined, one of your hands moving to cup his cheek, resting your forehead against his, “I’m - ah - so fuckin’ close, Gaz.”

“Please,” he whispered, stealing a small kiss from you, continuing to rub your clit, sendings sparks through your body, “I need you.”

You kissed his lips, his nose and cheek, his eyelids as the two of you moaned and panted, a slow sensual dance towards the edge. His chin, his jaw and oh, Gaz did it again, tipping back his head, offering his neck to you - whispering your name. It dripped from his lips like honey, hypnotizing to your mind, whispering consent for it.

“Please, sweetheart,” he rolled his hips again, pressed a little harsher against your clit, “want - ah - want it so badly.”

You couldn’t help yourself, leaning down a little. You licked a stripe up along that pretty throat of his, tasting his sweat on your tongue - even that felt addicting and he moaned, even if you had done nothing but licking him. Again and again, covering his throat in a layer of salvia while the two of you began fucking a little harder.

It was so tempting. You shouldn’t, you really shouldn’t, but then another pleading whine left Gaz and oh, how had you denied him for two months? How had you turned him away?

He was the most precious being you had ever met - your fangs unsheathed themselves, ready for you to choose a spot on his neck. To give in, just like the both of you wanted to.

Your hands moved to cradle his head, licking one last time. Then you opened your mouth fully, sinking your teeth in.