#vampire love

Your screams echo from the castle walls. Everywhere in the castle, they are heard. Alucard is holding you tightly against him, his hips pistoning against yours from behind. The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room. Your back is covered in bites. Some blood oozing out of it. He has had you in his clutches for hours already. Your legs are shaking, your hips are bruised, and your body is covered in bites.

Alucard's mouth is open wide, his fangs showing. Blood covers them. His tongue licks them clean while he picks up his page again. He loves the feeling of your walls around his cock. How good you have made him feel for hours now. Your screams only spurring him on. He hasn't gone easy on you, however, he made sure to check if you are still able to take it. He doesn't want you to pass out and not feel anymore how good you make him feel. How good your heat feels. How good your blood tastes.

"Y/N, you are so beautiful right now. I wish you could see yourself right now. So hot and delicious. All mine, all of you, only for me to have!", Alucard groans. His nails dig into your flesh, your ass. His abs tense when he feels his release approach again. A mewl leaves your lips, eager for him to cum inside of you again. Beneath you, the sheets are already covered in your fluids. He will not stop any time soon. "Alucard! More, Alucard! Yes! Just like that!", you moan. You move your hips against his, causing him to groan. His cock goes deeper inside you.

"You are gorgeous, angel. My perfect human," he pants, continuing his thrust in torturing rhythm. Fast, heavy, loud. Your breasts bounce with each sharp thrust he makes. Your eyes roll back into your head and you reach your high on his cock. Milking him for all he has. Your legs shaking. "Yes, my little human! Just like that! Cum on my cock!" He bites down into your back. A scream fills the room again.

His cock pulsed inside you, heavy with need. "Y/N," he purred, pressing in a little deeper, making your legs tremble all over again. "That's the perfect spot. There it needs to be." He rocks his hips once, barely moving — but even that small shift made your body jerk. His cum flowed inside of you, coating your walls and filling up your welcoming womb. He chuckled when he felt you clench around him again. "My needy little human wants more?", he asks you teasingly.

He chuckled when you tried to get more, again trying to push back against him. He held your hips still and shook his head. Pulling you off of him. His cock slipped out of your clenching hole. A groan left both your lips. He wouldn't mind fucking you again. The exhaustion is written all over your face. You need to rest before he can fuck you again. "Sleep, Y/N. You will get more when you have thoughtfully rested enough", he promises you. You whimper. Displeased with his decision. He chuckles and kisses you softly. You are probably cock drunk and dizzy from all the blood that is missing now. He just loves to suck your blood out of you.

The thunder rolled low across the New Orleans sky, shaking the old brickwork of the Quarter with an ominous growl. Rain soaked the stones, making them slick and treacherous, the air thick and sultry with the scent of magnolias, blood, and electric rage. The entire city seemed to pulse with barely restrained violence, as if it, too, awaited the inevitable collision.

Y/N shoved open the heavy door of the Abattoir, storming in with the subtlety of a bloodstained hurricane. Her boots hit the floor hard, splashing puddles of rainwater across Klaus Mikaelson’s pristine hall, the wet slap of leather echoing off the ancient walls.

He was waiting for her, sprawled in his throne-like chair with that infuriating smirk pulling at the corner of his mouth. His shirt hung open at the throat, exposing a sliver of golden skin. Fingers toyed lazily with a glass of bourbon, as if he had all the time in the goddamned world—as if she hadn't just torn through half the city looking for him.

"Come to whine again, love?" he purred, voice like velvet soaked in venom. "Or is there something else you crave from me tonight?"

Her fists clenched at her sides. "You arrogant, murderous bastard. I should stake you where you sit."

He rose, slow and graceful, a predator humoring prey he already considered dead. Every movement radiated danger, amusement, and that terrible, magnetic pull she hated more than anything.

"Ah, but you won't, will you?" Klaus drawled, circling her like smoke, like a noose tightening. "You can't decide if you want to kill me... or crawl into my bed."

Heat flared under Y/N's skin, fierce and consuming as the lightning clawing across the sky. Months—months—of battles, barbed words, accidental brushes of skin that lingered too long, looks held a second too deep. The line between hatred and want had blurred so badly it barely existed anymore, replaced with something raw and feral.

"You think too much of yourself," she hissed, backing up a step. A mistake.

Klaus’s eyes darkened, wolfish, his control snapping tight as a wire. He was on her before she could breathe, slamming her back against the stone wall hard enough to rattle her bones. His body caged hers completely, a living storm wrapped in immortal flesh. Their faces were inches apart—hers flushed with fury and defiance, his twisted with something deeper, hungrier, almost broken.

"Tell me to stop," Klaus growled against her throat, his voice guttural, ragged, trembling with the sheer effort of not sinking his teeth into her right then and there. "Tell me to stop... and I swear, I'll tear myself away."

His breath was molten against her skin, every syllable vibrating through her bones, through the very core of her. The way his hands flattened against the wall beside her head, straining, shaking with the violence he refused to unleash—it should have terrified her. It thrilled her.

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling the wet slide of rainwater dripping down her temples, mixing with the feverish heat of her skin. Her pulse hammered so loudly she thought it might drown out the storm. Klaus smelled the fear. Tasted the want. His pupils blew wide, black devouring blue. His lips brushed the underside of her jaw, not a kiss, just a ghost, a threat.

"One word, little wolf..." he whispered, shuddering. "And I'll leave you untouched."

A part of her—sane, sensible, dying—screamed to push him away. But the bigger, darker part tilted her head back, baring her throat, daring him to do his worst. Silence stretched between them, taut as piano wire, vibrating with every forbidden thing neither dared say aloud.

Y/N didn't speak. Instead, she closed the distance, slamming her mouth against his like a weapon. Klaus roared into the kiss, a sound of pure, savage triumph. His hands left the wall and seized her hips, hauling her against him, grinding the sharp line of his arousal into her stomach. Teeth clashed, breath hissed, nails raked flesh.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was war.

He dragged her higher up the wall with supernatural strength, her thighs wrapping around his hips instinctively, seeking, clutching. His mouth branded a trail from her lips down the column of her throat, teeth scraping but not yet breaking skin, the monster in him trembling on a knife’s edge.

"You have no idea," Klaus snarled, voice wrecked, "what you’ve unleashed, love."

His hand fisted in her rain-slicked hair, yanking her head back so he could see every gasping, ruined expression cross her face. His other hand gripped her ass, holding her effortlessly as if she weighed nothing.

"Show me," she spat back, eyes blazing with a fire that would have scared anyone else.

For a second—just a second—the Hybrid King lost himself completely.

Klaus’s mouth crushed against hers again, a brutal claiming that had her whimpering into him, her nails clawing at his back through his soaked shirt. The muscles beneath her fingers rippled, flexed, as he ground himself harder between her thighs, the solid ridge of him leaving no doubt what he wanted. What he needed.

Still holding her up with obscene ease, he spun, carrying her across the hall like a man possessed. He slammed her down atop the dining table, ancient wood groaning under the force. Papers, glasses, and a silver dagger skittered to the floor with shattering finality. He didn’t even look.

His hands tore at her clothes, ripping buttons from her shirt with brutal snaps, exposing flushed, trembling skin beneath. His breath hitched, a savage, needy sound, like he couldn't decide whether to worship her or devour her whole.

"Fuck," he muttered, voice wrecked. His mouth dove down, latching onto her collarbone with teeth that almost broke skin. Y/N gasped, arching into him, tangling her fingers in his hair and pulling hard enough to make him snarl against her throat.

"Say it," he rasped against her pulse. "Say you hate me."

He shoved her knees wider apart, stepping between them, grinding his hips into the desperate heat at her core. The friction was maddening—almost enough. Almost.

"I hate you," Y/N hissed into his mouth, biting his lower lip hard enough to taste blood.

Klaus laughed, a dark, wicked sound, and yanked her hips to the edge of the table, forcing her to feel every throbbing inch of him through their clothes. His hands roamed her body like he owned it already, bruising grips and reverent caresses that left trails of fire.

"Good," he whispered against her skin. "Because I'm going to ruin you for anyone else."

He popped the button of her jeans with one flick of his wrist, dragging the denim down her thighs with violent impatience. His fingers slipped beneath the lace of her panties, finding her soaked and ready, and the growl that rumbled in his chest shook the table beneath them.

"Fuck, you're perfect," Klaus snarled. His thumb circled slow, agonizing patterns over her clit while two fingers teased at her entrance, not pushing in yet—torturing her, forcing her to buck her hips into him, desperate for more.

"Beg me, love," he murmured, nipping her earlobe savagely. "Beg your worst fucking enemy to fuck you."

Y/N clenched her teeth, pride and lust warring inside her. She hated him. She hated how much she wanted him. But not as much as she hated the thought of him stopping now.

"Please," she ground out, voice hoarse, broken. "Please, Klaus. Fuck me."

The last thread of his control snapped. He wrenched her panties aside and drove into her in one savage thrust, burying himself to the hilt, forcing a strangled, raw scream from her lips.

"Fuck," Klaus groaned against her neck, voice shaking. He didn’t move for a second, savoring the way she clenched around him, how perfectly she fit.

Then he started to move. Hard, brutal thrusts that rattled the entire table, making the chandelier above them swing wildly. His hands gripped her hips hard enough to bruise, dragging her into every thrust, filling her so deep she saw white behind her eyes. Every moan, every gasping plea from her lips drove him wilder, rougher, pushing them both toward the edge of madness.

"You feel that, love?" he snarled, biting down on the soft skin where her neck met her shoulder. "You feel who fucking owns you now?"

Y/N could barely breathe, barely think, every nerve in her body alight. She raked her nails down his back, drawing blood, making him hiss and rut into her harder, deeper. When she finally shattered around him, it was with a sob of his name, a desperate, broken sound that echoed off the stone walls.

Klaus followed seconds later, roaring against her throat, hips jerking erratically as he emptied himself deep inside her, claiming her in the most primal way possible. He didn’t pull out immediately. He stayed buried inside her, panting against her neck, arms trembling with the force of holding himself up.