#vampire kaiser

you loved when kaiser bit you. it was a rush of raw feelings that always ended up in long, harsh sessions due to his very little self control when it comes to you how good you taste. and for your disgrace, he knew how much you craved it.

he had you pinned to the mattress, wrists trapped above your head in one of his hands. kaiser hovered over you with that smug little grin, his fangs glinting faintly in the low light.

“so eager, liebling,” he drawled, grinding his hips down slow, deliberate, letting you feel just how hard he was through his pants. “already trembling, and i haven’t even tasted you yet.”

his mouth trailed down your jaw, lips brushing your skin, stopping just at the pulse in your neck. you whimpered, arching up into him, but he only chuckled darkly.

“should i bite you here?” he murmured, dragging his fangs lightly over your throat. “or maybe here…” his lips closed over your collarbone, teeth scraping just enough to sting. you squirmed under him, desperate, grinding your hips up to meet his. the fabric burned, the friction making your panties stick damp against you.

“micha— please,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

he smirked, blue eyes flashing. “that’s it. beg for it.” his free hand slid down, pressing against your core over your underwear, rubbing hard enough to make you gasp. “beg me to bite you. beg me to ruin you.”

your back arched, a choked sound spilling from your throat. “please—just do it—”

his laugh was sharp, delighted, before he finally sank his fangs into your neck. the pain was sharp, then it melted instantly into a red-hot pleasure that shot straight through you. your cry caught in your throat as he drank, hips snapping against yours in a brutal grind now, no more teasing.

“fuck” he groaned against your skin, his cock dragging hard against your soaked panties, “you taste so good— sweet, perfect— fuck, liebling, you’re making me lose my mind.”

you sobbed, writhing against him, your pussy aching with every desperate thrust. the pressure was overwhelming, every grind hitting your clit just right, his body heavy and relentless above you.

his grip on your wrists tightened, his voice breaking into a growl. “look at you, soaking yourself just from my cock rubbing you through your clothes. pathetic little thing. mine.”his thrusts turned frantic, sloppy, both of you chasing release. his fangs stayed buried in your neck, sucking deep, your head spinning from blood loss and pleasure.

when your orgasm hit, it tore a scream from your lips, your body convulsing as you gushed into your panties, soaking his cock through the fabric. he moaned into your throat, grinding harder, faster, until his own release ripped out of him—his hips stuttering as he spilled hot into his pants, still rutting against you like he couldn’t stop.

he finally pulled his fangs free, licking at the blood with slow, lazy strokes, his lips stained red and glistening.

he whispered, breathless but grinning, “you look pathetic… and i haven’t even fucked you yet.”

HELLO MY FAVORITE AUTHOR!!!!( ˘ ³˘)♥︎

CONGRATULATIONS ON GETTING 100 FOLLOWERS MY LIEGE IT IS VERY WELL DESERVED UR WRITING IS ANGELIC🙏🙏

BUT ANYWAYS… im here to make another order since u feed me so well everytime i make a request👅👅

i really wanted to participate in the little 100 followers event but i am sadly not a fan of character x reader x character… so, can i get uhhhh another super pathetic kaiser one where uhhhh hes a vampire willing to burn out in the sun for a hit for human reader bc of how much he actually craves her blood since the last time he tasted her and uhhhhh he kisses the shoes she walks in and asks her to have him as her lover even tho her whole kingdom is against mythical beings or wtv and uhmmmm yeah THANK YEWWWWW

・. ★ HI GORGEOUS ⸜(ˊᗜˋ)⸝ .ᐟ Wait i can't believe I'm your fav author literally giggling and kicking my feet rn AAAAAAAA. thank you thank you thank you omg ily sm. Its totally okay that you don't like character x reader x character, it's not everybodys cup of tea so thats why I put single characters too :3. I'm sorry i was supposed to get this out for you like days ago but i was superrrrr duppper busy with college, I love you sm anon pls don't explode and keep sending me asks shjdjejdje.

☆ CONTENT: A vampire breaks into your bed chambers and bites you, after that he simply won't leave you alone. He begs and begs, even burning himself in the sun just to touch you. But what happens after a long day and his patience runs out, and he'll try everything in the book to get you to agree. ☆ GENRE/THEMES/WARNING: vampires, royalty, kaiser being annoying, reader being royalty, fem!reader, kaiser begging, kaiser knowing reader likes him and using it to his advantage, kaiser being a tease, reader forced into the mating press, kissing, licking, biting, blood, pain, burning, kaiser worshipping reader, kaiser getting reader worked up. 'Eure Durchlaucht' – My Serenity/Highness. 'Bitte' – Please. 'Ich verspreche es' – I promise. 'Prinzessin' – Princess. ☆ PAIRING: Vampire!Kaiser x Royal!Reader. ☆ W.C. 1.4K. ☆ NOTE: This was for my 100 follower event :3 It feels a little rushed and sloppy, i proof read it twice but if theres an mistakes lmk.

Kaiser can only dream about the last time he had tasted your blood. 

guys i might make vampire kaiser a series yall dont know hm i love vampires and kaiser

"You're quite lucky I have taken a liking to you."

The words slither into your ear, velvet and venom all at once, a whisper from the abyss. The grip around your throat tightens with deliberate cruelty, the fingers cold as the grave, yet burning like embers pressed against fragile flesh. Your pulse flutters beneath his hand, struggling against the vise of undeath.

"Although I think I am not yet done with you," the Duke purrs, his voice a slow, syrupy drawl, the cadence of a predator savoring the moment before the feast. His breath is unnervingly cool, tinged with something sweet and metallic, like the scent of crushed roses steeped in blood. His fingers trace the delicate curve of your neck before his palm captures your jaw, tilting your face upward, forcing you to meet his gaze.

His beauty is terrible to behold—something otherworldly, a painting of a prince long forgotten, immortalized in oil and bone-white splendor. But here he stands, glistening in the dim glow, and his features twist into something cruel, something sinister. The flickering candlelight catches the sharpness of his cheekbones, the near-translucent pallor of his skin, the darkness pooling in his eyes like ink spilled across parchment.

"What am I?"

The question lingers in the air, deceptively soft, yet laced with an unspoken threat. And the way he says "what" instead of "who" simply confirms all your fears.

Your lips part, but fear clasps around your throat tighter than his hand ever could. You want to answer, to fight, to run—but your limbs feel leaden, as if the very essence of your being has already begun to unravel beneath his gaze.

"Hmm?" he hums, tilting his head, a teasing lilt in his voice, his patience stretching as thin as the space between your lips and his.

"Y-You aren't human," you finally stammer, the words barely more than a strangled whisper. Your throat tightens further as your own voice betrays you. "You're a monster!"

A slow smile curls across his lips, his fangs glinting like twin daggers in the dim light.

"Atta girl," he murmurs approvingly before— Faster than your mind can register— You are beneath him.

The air is driven from your lungs as your back meets the mattress, his presence a shadow draped over you. You can’t see him—not fully—not yet. But you can feel him. Everywhere. His hands, cold yet burning, tracing the contours of your waist, gliding upward, curling around your throat once more.

"But I'd like it better," he muses, his lips grazing your ear, "if you were more... specific."

His breath ghosts across your skin, and then— The sharpest hint of fangs brushes against your pulse.

A shudder wracks through your body, not entirely from fear, though the terror coils tight in your belly like a serpent poised to strike. No, there is something else—something dark and twisted, something that should not exist within you but does.

"You're a vampire," you whisper, the realization falling from your lips like a confession, a prayer, a curse.

A chuckle rumbles from deep within his chest, rich, decadent, intoxicating. The sound alone makes you tremble.

And then, pain.

His teeth sink just enough into your flesh to draw a gasp from your lips but not blood—not yet. A warning. A promise.

"That's my girl," he purrs, his grip tightening, his body pressing yours deeper into the bed. The pressure is suffocating, but you can’t bring yourself to resist.

He looms over you, a vision of exquisite horror, his white button-down hanging loose around his collarbone, the stark contrast of his ivory skin against the black void of his pupils.

And those fangs.

God, those fangs.

You shiver, dread crawling up your spine as the realization sets in—he has done this before. Countless times. The blood on his lips, unseen but known, whispers of past lovers, past victims, past lives stolen away in the dead of night.

You can’t breathe.

You can’t move.

You don’t want to.

"Easy there," he cooes, his tone mockingly tender, his hands steady as they keep you exactly where he wants you—beneath him, within his grasp, at his mercy.

His head dips lower, and your heartbeat stutters violently, only to slow—unbearably slow—as he does nothing more than inhale your scent.

"Why me?" you choke out, a fragile sob, your voice barely more than a breath.

He does not answer at first. Instead, he studies you, his gaze as sharp as the fangs that have yet to pierce deeper. And then—

"Because you're special."

A pause. A correction.

"Your blood is."

The words cut deeper than any blade, more brutal than his touch. A tear spills, trailing hot down your cheek.

And he only smiles.

"Now, shut up, and let me take care of you," he growls, his voice finally baring the hunger he has so masterfully concealed until now.

"Wait—"

Your life was, in a word, horrible.

Born to the impoverished, raised among the weary, you learned the weight of survival before you learned the warmth of comfort. Your days bled into one another, hours of toil stretching like an endless road beneath an uncaring sky. Ten hours of labor if luck was on your side, more if it wasn’t. Hunger was an old friend, a presence so familiar it no longer gnawed at your stomach but instead settled into your bones, making a home within the hollows of your ribs. Two meals a day, at most—when your father was fortunate, when fate was kind.

So when the letter arrived, scrawled in ink darker than midnight, summoning you to serve as a maid in the palace of the infamous Duke, namely, Michael Kaiser, your family had no choice but to send you away. It was not an opportunity; it was a demand masked in civility. You bid a bittersweet farewell, the relief in your parents’ eyes hidden beneath the forced smiles they wore. They saw this as a chance. A cruel one, perhaps, but a chance nonetheless.

The castle loomed over the land like a forgotten deity, imposing and lifeless. It had no warmth, no laughter, no sense of humanity within its towering walls. Light was an exile here; darkness reigned supreme, seeping into every corner, filling every breath. Yet, despite its abyssal nature, you could tell it was built of gold, not silver. Always gold. Never silver.

Rumors, whispered between wary lips, had painted a picture of dread. The air itself seemed to shiver within these walls, and the ever-present sensation of unseen eyes upon you became a shadow of your own. A cold sweat had become your constant companion, slithering down your spine like a snake coiled in anticipation.

And then there was the Duke himself.

His movements were unnatural—too controlled, too precise, as if he were a puppet whose strings were pulled by unseen hands. His mouth rarely parted, his lips stretched into a rigid smile, unyielding. You had never seen his teeth. You began to wonder if he even had them.

He was seldom present, always engaged in “errands” despite his wealth surpassing even the king’s coffers—a secret well-guarded to maintain the monarchy’s pride. But even when he was supposed to be away, there was no telling whether he had truly left. He moved like mist, appearing without a sound, vanishing without a trace. No footfalls, no echoes. Just presence and absence, shifting as though reality itself bent to his will.

You were assigned to the library, a cavernous chamber where shadows ruled supreme. Even when you lit the lamps, the darkness did not wane. It was alive, swallowing light, bending it to its whims.

It was here that curiosity betrayed you.

The shelves were lined with the expected—histories of the palace, the chronicles of the Duke’s bloodline, and records of power and prestige. Yet, nestled amongst them was an anomaly, a book that did not belong.

Bound in crimson leather, its spine worn with age, the tome of fairytales and fantasies stood defiant amidst its somber brethren. It called to you, whispering in a language beyond words. You reached for it, your fingers hesitating only briefly before you pried it from its resting place.

As you opened it, the pages fell naturally to one that had been turned too many times, as though its secrets had been read and reread through the ages. Even when you tried to flip past it, your hands betrayed you, always returning to the same words.

Vampires.

An old legend, a foolish tale meant to frighten children. And yet, the deeper you read, the faster your heartbeat became, pounding in a rhythm that was no longer your own.

Pale skin—unblemished, unaging. You thought of the Duke’s flawless complexion, more porcelain than flesh.

They dwell in the darkness, for the sun is their greatest adversary. And silver—their bane.

The absence of light, the gold that draped every inch of the palace, suddenly became glaringly apparent.

They make no sound, move with unnatural grace, vanish like wraiths into the night.

Your breath hitched. Your fingers trembled. A suffocating dread wrapped itself around your throat.

The last known vampire, it read, was born in 1662—the heir of a wealthy businessman and an actress.

Your eyes trailed over the name, trying to decipher the aged ink. The letters blurred, but two remained clear as daylight.

M.

K.

The air thickened, pressing against you with invisible weight. Your body screamed at you to stop, to look away, but human nature is a cruel mistress, feeding on forbidden knowledge like a moth drawn to flame.

To see a portrait, turn to page 130.

Your breath hitched. The room suddenly felt smaller, the walls closer, the darkness sentient. Your vision wavered, spots dancing before your eyes as a dreadful realization wrapped its claws around your mind.

Your knees buckled.

The world around you twisted, your consciousness slipping through your fingers like grains of sand.

...

You awoke in a bed that was not your own.

The sheets beneath you were softer than anything you had ever touched, the pillows drowning you in comfort you had never known. Opulence surrounded you—golden embellishments, gems scattered like stars upon fabric, an overwhelming scent of blue roses.

Yet none of it soothed the terror clutching at your chest.

Something was watching you. You could feel it in your marrow.

“I am quite certain,” a voice murmured, smooth as silk yet sharp as steel, “that maids do not wander about my library without permission.”

You barely had time to react before a cold hand—so unnaturally cold—wrapped around your throat. It was not a grip of anger nor of cruelty. It was worse.

Fingers trailed along your pulse, pressing gently, feeling the life thrumming beneath your skin. You were fragile, a creature of fleeting mortality in the grasp of something eternal. For some maddening reason, faced with death, the only thing your brain was processing was the ethereal beauty of the Duke, his skin whiter than pure, his hair golden and silkier than silk itself. His eyes reflected- if not transcended- the beauty of the ocean and the vast, infinite sky above it, holding a facade of innocence, but the same could not be said for his soul.

“You are quite lucky,” Kaiser whispered, his breath ghosting over your skin.

“I have taken a liking to you.”