#vampire!lover

“you know…” he started, trailing off ever so slightly. his eyebrows were tightly-knitted, showcasing his frustration more than his tone did, “i think you like pissing me off.”

you couldn’t hold back your scoff at that. of course that was his role— the brutish man ever provoked by his promiscuous lover.

the way you turned in your heels was every bit of disrespectful, red pumps courting the ground in rapid, powerful steps. he followed closely behind, pulling at his tie that was nearly choking him now.

“oh, please,” you retorted, bitterness lacing your tone, “take some fucking responsibility for yourself.”

you rarely ever swore at him, but tonight was the exception. he had pushed just a little too far.

“watch your tone,” he warned from behind you, voice just a tad bit more menacing and much closer than it had been before.

normally, you would’ve heeded his warning…given into the silence and allowed yourself to calm down. but you just couldn’t. not after the scene he had caused.

“just stop fucking talking to me.”

before you could take your next step, his hand was around your neck, pulling you flush into him. the material of his silk suit cascaded over the exposed skin of your back, outlining every ridge and crook of his body against your’s. he was ripe and hot with anger, his pale skin scorching as much as the obsidian ring that was digging into your jugular.

his other arm snaked to rest across your stomach, limb holding you so firm that even an exhale was a bit difficult. his hair had come undone, failing to his shoulders in unkempt waves that brushed against your’s face and tickled. it would’ve been endearing— this position— had it not been for the his nearly primal snarling.

“let me remind you of something, my love.”

his face dropped towards your neck, nose breathing in your scent first, followed by the linings of his fangs next. your body spasmed in response— a mix of terror and excitement all the same.

“you are an extension of me,” his words were slow and pointed, chaste kisses accompanying them, “i created you with the sheer power of my soul.”

“i have gifted you a strong mind,” a pause, and then a series of small, surface level bites followed suit, “a youthful body, and a bountiful heart.”

his breathing was intense now, ragged and heavy as if the sheer fact that he had to assert himself this way was pissing him off.

“i have given you a life others dream of-“

“i never asked for it-“

“and yet, it’s your’s. that’s all that matters.”

his grip around your neck grew tighter. his presence was all but consuming you like this, weakening every fight you tried to put together under it’s sheer weight.

“you are mine,” he continued, drawing his tongue around a particularly subtle valley on your neck.

“despite all the freedom i afford you, you must not forget this— till the day the world ends— till the day the heavens forgive this curse we’ve been bestowed— i own you…”

he was silent for the next few moments, relishing in how your once stagnant blood began to pulse under the pressure he applied. his other hand slipped from it’s place at your stomach to rest between your thighs, the material of your dress resting over his wrist all the while.

you recoiled instinctively, to no avail, falling further into him in spite of your efforts to get away.

“…and you will not speak to me that way.”

and with that, he finally dug in, teeth accosting your skin like the sharpest of daggers.

you weren’t sure how long it was before the pain morphed to pleasure, but by the time he was finished with you, all that you could remember was the taste of yourself on his tongue. that, and the sentiment he had so readily asserted: you are his.

for: castaway!hero

christmas with him is always a bit more special than it was before he was in your life.

he has the wonder and excitement of a child, you know? that same wide-eyed glossiness twinkling in his orbs.

it makes sense, though. on his planet they don’t do things like you humans do on earth. they don’t have a jesus or a god that they climb into churches for. they don’t decorate trees or wrap fancy presents. it’s all so foreign.

so imagine his excitement when you brought out your house lights from the shed on the first clear december day.

it’s still blistering cold as you unravel the cords, but you’re determined, explaining the concept of a single lined system as you checked each bulb.

a number of other christmas decor had already been put up. a statue of jolly, rosey-cheeked santa on the porch. golden, frosted snowflakes hanging from the yard trees. red and white door wreaths and beautiful welcome mats at your front door. the lights were the last, and admittedly most challenging part of all.

or at least it would’ve been, if it weren’t for your hero’s telekinesis.

quickest light hanging job ever, thanks to him and his powers. a mere fifteen minutes and the snow on your cabin was a glimmering gold…just gorgeous.

from that day on, he really gets into the spirit of things.

holiday shopping is always a kick.

he’s so enamored by all of the fancy displays.

you could set out on that day with a very specific list of what to get who, how much your spending, and where all you need to go, but the second he pulls at your sleeve, eager to browse through another christmas catalog, that all goes out of the window.

he wants to try all of the seasonal coffees and pastries and sweets. he wants to buy all of the themed pajamas and advent calendars and stupid one-off stocking stuffers. he’s a capitalist’s puppet, and he’s too naive and sweet to know it.

you often catch him humming along to the songs they play in the stores, too. sweet melodies of rocking around the christmas tree and i saw mommy kissing santa claus. he sings them over and over again like a record on repeat, and each time the sound is more soothing than the last.

“i love this season,” he’d say in between tunes, “it makes this place feel…homey.” this place. not the store, or the mall, or the town, even. the entire world.

on christmas eve, you make a real effort to make him feel special.

he’s all clean and cozy on the sofa, clad in the pajamas he got to match yours. you’re there too, feeding him sugar crystal coated cookies as you rest on his chest. christmas movie after christmas movie, glass of warm milk after another, and the world of sleep only barely takes him as the clock strikes midnight.

it’s only then that you untangle yourself, wrapping him up in his blanket and leaving him to rest as you go to work. a closet of gifts, some big and some small, eagerly await wrapping, and as you drone away with tape and paper, your once barren tree is filled with presents, all sporting his name.

by the time you’re finished, your tired to the bone and off put, but the thought of look on his face in the morning is enough to make it worth it. so you dim the lights, letting the ambiance from the tree take over, and reclaim your place in his arms until he wakes for christmas morning.

for: blue-collar!husband

the best way to describe christmas with him: his personal superbowl.

he’s always been a particularly sentimental guy, especially around these times. christmas was just such a staple part of family life growing up.

even though it’d reach temperatures rivaling a crispy summer day in the south, his paw would still spend the first sunday of the month hauling decorations from the shed at his mother’s request. lights, ornaments, trees, records. little symbols of christmas were scattered all around their house before the day was over.

and then came the actual festivites. he and his brothers dressed in matching pajamas nearly every day leading up until christmas. they’d gather around the living room while a christmas movie played on the television, fire stoking in the fireplace all the while. true family bonding.

he’s got such fond memories from those times of his life, and that only makes him even more excited to make more of them with you, his own family.

you have full range over the decorative sides of things. pink tree? he’s on it. bubble ornaments? they’re ordered? advent calendar that’s only useful for this one occasion? his wallet’s on the table.

he’s only ever really concerned about the photographic aspect of things, because, yes, he’s documenting it all. he wants the corny, hallmark christmas photoshoot and the festive greeting cards. he wants the christmas home video to look back on in the years to come. he wants pictures of you in front of the tree on christmas morning to upload to facebook. he wants it all!

now, when it comes to gift, that’s where things get even more fun. gift giving is such as big part of his love language, and that’s really apparent here.

after all of his christmas shopping for you, your living room is practically inhabitable, filled to the brim with things you wouldn’t even imagine.

a lot of it’s expensive. designer coats and heels that you’d put on your wishlist eons ago. makeup sets from brands you’d mentioned in passing and hair tools that you couldn’t imagine buying on your on. he’s got all of that, and more. but the more is even more personal— even more tailored to you. the next two installments from that series you were obsessed with in may. a new pack of needles your sewing machine that you’ve needed since november. that japanese candy you’d fallen in love with on your vacation there but hadn’t been able to get your hands on since.

he’s got it all. he knows you, and this is his holiday to prove that.

the cherry on top is the way he wraps the gifts— the paper and bows on each matching the aesthetic you’d picked for that year’s decor. truly the most thoughtful man ever.

now, when it comes to him, he doesn’t really expect anything but your presence for the holidays. watching your face light up as you unwrap things, clad in your prissy pink pajamas and hair rollers from the night before…that’s like heaven for him.

but he also can’t lie, he loves how excited you get to give him his gifts too. there’s never anything he’s wanting from you, never anything he’s expecting, but you always manage to get him the very things that make him feel special. makes him feel looked after.

like that camera you gifted him on your first christmas together.

it was tucked away underneath the tree in a black, velvet box with gold trim. amongst all of your gifts, it had almost been overlooked, but he should’ve known better. no way in hell were you not going to get him something, even with all his insistence.

you were shy to show it to him, mumbling about how you thought he’d get a lot of use out of it, before you pressed the box down on his lap.

he was smiling before he could even open it— enjoying every aspect of seeing you like that, half anxious and half eager to see his reaction.

seeing his dream camera laid out in that box, with all of the lenses and tools he could’ve possibly needed alongside it— it just about floored him. he’d never mentioned it to you. never even brought up the hobby really.

but you noticed. noticed the way he’d pull out his phone at any given moment, capturing you or the scene or whatever else had caught his eye. you paid attention to the videos he watch during your down time together. you noted the makes and models he seemed to be drawn too whenever you’d pass that section of a store.

it’s gifts like these— feelings like these— that remind him just why he loves the holidays so much. all of the gentle love. the quiet, almost innate care. it all reminds him of how much he loves you. how lucky he is that you love him <3

for: vampire!lover

simply put— it’s the worst for him, and even worse for you.

both of you try not to acknowledge it, not because you don’t like the cheer and the innocence of it all. not because you hate the idea of snow and carols and cookies.

no.

it’s because it’s the day he took you, all those years ago. laid his claim on your mortality. your free will. your soul.

you loved him once. an innocent, pure love that you had never felt for anyone else. the kind of thing that makes your chest tight when you think of not having it anymore.

he felt it too. felt it even more, matter a fact. but that was always the issue.

it was your first christmas together. a sweet, sweet day full of loving and laughing. despite his dark and brooding nature, he’d gotten into the spirit of things just as much. he didn’t protest when you brought out the corny matching sweaters. he smiled and joked with all of your family that day. he watched you open your gifts with a light in his eyes that you just couldn’t fabricate. he even kissed you under that stupid fucking mistletoe you’d been tormenting him with since december first.

but you didn’t notice how spacey he’d get sometimes. how lost in thought he was when he thought no one was looking. like he was happy about something far beyond the the holidays.

it happened that night.

by the end of your family’s gathering, you were spent. it felt like there were a million relatives to hug goodbye for the night, and so much trash to compile, but he was there through it all.

and the second you’d finished, he had you in his arms, pulling you towards the bedroom with the promise of a very special gift just for you.

you couldn’t help but giggle into him, infatuated by his very presence with you that day. a pure dream for you and your lovesick heart, to spend the day with someone you loved so much.

he was painfully gentle— almost intentional— with the way he pulled your clothes from your body. one garment after another, discarded in a neat pile of you. he kissed you slower, like he was trying to push the very essence of himself into you over and over again. and he kissed everywhere too. even the places you wished he wouldn’t. like the birthmark on the back of your neck. or the scar from that accident you’d had a few years ago. or that blemish on your chest that you’d tried so hard get rid of. he looked after your body like he was trying to commit to memory.

but more than anything, he talked to you. in hushed, intimate little whispers. in that sweet, fragile little voice that you’d never heard before.

pretty words. safe words.

“you don’t understand what you mean to me, my love.”

“i need you more than you’ll ever know.”

“you are everything to me.”

it brought on a feeling that you’d never felt before. like you were floating— drifting between the feeling of him and the weight of his words. exactly how he needed you.

you weren’t expecting it, when he finally bit you.

you were too blissed out to even register the quite apology he whispered in your ear as he pushed your head back on his shoulder. all you could feel was the jaw-dropping feeling of your fourth orgasm flooding over you, and the feeling of his hips drumming into you. all you cared about was the way his hands gripped onto you— how they held you like you were his own. like there was no where for you to be other than right there with him.

but then the burning started. that excruciating, mind-numbing sort of pain that brings tears to your eyes the second you feel it.

it felt like betrayal. like a knife, slashing into the picturesque fantasy of a hallmark-like day. and it only hurt more when you started to fight— when you start to slap and claw and wince at the pain— because he didn’t stop.

instead, his hands gripped you tighter. he groaned into your neck like he was saying “just let it happen” as he sucked the life from your body. his hips pistoned into you far beyond what he’d ever put you through before. and when he finally came? his cum leaked into your body like a virus, not like a gift.

it’s was heaven, and then hell, and then eventually nothing. nothing but the slipping sensations of everything around you. the fading scene of the room that once felt so intimate. the sounds of your cries that mellowed with each passing moment. even the sounds of his hips stopped sounding so vulgar. simply and purely nothing.

besides him.

his terrifying, sickening voice in your ear, having the nerve to speak so gently all the while.

“i’m so sorry, my love,” he whispered, kissing over your bite marks like wounds he could heal, “it’ll all be okay soon.”

christmas night— the time your lover killed you.

happy holidays everyone :)