* *.* * ! Aespa Masterlist ! * *.* *

˜”*°• *.* ˜”*°• ! aespa masterlist ! •°*”˜ *.* •°*”˜

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| Headcanons |

Aespa As Girlfriends (solo headcanons)

Karina | Giselle | Winter | NingNing

Nothing Yet!

| Reactions |

Nothing Yet!

| Fake Texts |

Nothing Yet!

| Drabbles |

Nothing Yet!

| Series |

Nothing Yet!

| Timestamps |

Nothing Yet!

Are your ship posts still open I thought I’d ask before requesting 💖

Oh hello there sweetheart Ofc ships are open, request for reactions or imagines are closed but ships are open :)

I just heard the news about Moonbin and I’ve been balling my eyes out hours I can’t today-

rest well binnie 🕊️

RIIZE Texting you when their high! pt.2

requested: yes

thank you so much for requesting this anon! sorry that it toke a while! have been busy with work and all but i’m back and ready to work again!, it was very fun doing this request i hope you like it!

— sunnie

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seunghan

sohee

anton

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taglist; @bigkpopstan, @baka-writings, @haechansfbuddy, @jeonronwoo, @jiminslostjam, @bluejaem, @jisungismymom, @hyuckography, @i-luvsang, @neocrush, @moonshineboyz, @chewryy, @sugarcherriess, @neochan, @jinkoh, @hazyhae, @angelbabyyy99

˜”*°• *.* ˜”*°• ! dawn masterlist ! •°*”˜ *.* •°*”˜

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| Headcanons |

DAWN as a boyfriend!

Nothing Yet!

| Reactions |

Nothing Yet!

| Fake Texts |

Nothing Yet!

| Drabbles |

Nothing Yet!

| Series |

Nothing Yet!

| Timestamps |

Nothing Yet!

Fucking talent, stop wtf this is so good, please go and read this amazing authors story and like it! 🥹💕

Thirsty | Vampire!Jun | [m]

Summary: Junhui is the perfect boyfriend - sweet, caring... immortal. After millennia of drinking human blood, he's confident in his ability to avoid hurting the human he's drinking from - but when it's you, his hunger seems insatiable. Word count: 6.1k Warnings: smut, blood drinking, biting, blade and cutting, orgasm denial, overstimulation, mentions of gore-y/vore-y stuff ♫ Dangerous Tonight - Alice Cooper ♫ Animals - Living in Fiction (cover) ♫ Poison - Alice Cooper

“If I hurt you at any point, or you get scared, you must tell me. If I don’t listen, hit me. Do whatever you need to do to stop me,” he says, looking straight into your eyes. He holds your face in his hands, his touch featherlight. Your foreheads are touching, you breathe the same air. He isn’t begging, but his eyes are. 

Jun’s the sweetest lover you could wish for. A perfect gentleman that desires only you, oblivious to the envy and jealousy of others when he kisses you. You’re his entire world. And he’s always like this before feeding. Submissive, willing to do anything you ask of him. He’s so soft and weak for you, obedient you’d almost say. Sometimes you wonder whether he’s making up for how his personality changes when the thirst for blood hits.

“I know, Jun. And I will, I promise,” you smile at him, your thumbs stroking his waist where you hold him, “We’ve been through this.”

He nods, his gaze falling to the ground. You can tell he isn’t convinced. That’s nothing new. You don’t blame him though, it’d be hypocritical. You’re also a little nervous. It’d be a flat out lie to say you aren’t. At the same time, though, adrenaline and excitement pump in your veins. 

“Love?” you call him gently, making him look at you again. If devotion was to be captured, it’d be the look in his eyes. “You won’t hurt me. You never did.”

“But I was always chained up,” he reminds you just as gently, his words dripping with uncertainty. 

Jun’s always been hesitant to feed from you after the first time. He has good self-control, but not when it comes to you. He never drinks more than is safe for the human and after thousands of years, it’s not even hard. With you, though, he can’t get enough. That much became clear the first time he’s fed from you.

And it also became apparent that blood alone does not satisfy his hunger.

Your lamb of a boyfriend becomes a beast when he craves blood. 

“I can’t watch you like that. You always look like you're in so much pain,” you whisper, reminding him why you asked him to try this. He swallows, agreeing easily.

He’s described remembering the times when he gets drunk on your blood like watching his life through a fog. He is present, he knows what he’s doing, but he can’t think clearly. It’s like his instincts take over. He’s never hurt you, but he’s terrified of the possibility. Accidents never happen until they do, after all. He’s willing to take the suffering, the pain and yearning to keep you as safe as he can.

But he can’t say no to you.

“I trust you, Junhui,” you tell him, watching him further melt under your gaze, “I know you won’t hurt me. Not more than I can take. And when you’re sated, I know you’ll take care of me.”

“Always, my love,” he reassures you quickly. He tilts his head, his nose brushing against yours as he leans forward. You meet him halfway, accepting his kiss and returning it with the same tenderness. It’s comfort. It’s home. You feel your muscles relax the longer he’s kissing you. He holds you like you’re the most precious, and to him you are.

“Ready?” he asks softly, his breath fanning your lips as he speaks. You nod, opening your eyes to meet his. He looks so vulnerable your heart hurts. You kiss him again, a single kiss holding your undying trust in him. He whimpers breathlessly. He’s hungry, but he wants to keep holding you. 

He forces his hands to let go. As they fall to his sides, he kneels down in front of you. You hand him the box that has sat, unimportant, on the dark sheets of your bed. Now it’s the crucial object of the entire night. The vampire takes it from your hands, his fingers brushing against your skin gingerly. 

He holds it in his lap. He steadies his breathing as he opens the lid and takes out a few cotton pads and wets them with disinfection. He asks for your hand wordlessly, and you give it to him. Just not before stroking his cheek with affection. He leans into the touch and he looks so tormented it makes you question the choices that led to this moment. There’s no turning back now, however.

He caresses your wrist with the wet piece of cotton, careful yet thorough. He throws the used pad away before looking at you. You know that if he senses the tiniest bit of hesitation from you, he’ll stop everything right away. But there’s none.

As you said, you trust him. With your whole life.

He takes out a dagger from the box, ancient and ornate. Only the best knife for your skin, he told you when he first showed it to you. It’s truly beautiful. And sharp. You know you need to be careful.

The vampire hands it to you, holding the tip of the blade as your eyes meet and his lips mouth the last confession - I love you. You mouth it back, voicelessly, and it’s the last reassurance he allows himself to accept before he focuses on calming his mind. He needs to calm down as much as he can, even if he knows it’s gonna be pointless once he smells the metallic and yet so intoxicating scent of your blood that seems to call to him. 

You take the dagger in one hand while lowering and stretching out the other. It’s so close to his lips you see him instinctively lean forward to kiss your skin, until he smells the disinfection and pulls away. It’s so endearing it makes you smile.

But the situation weighs on you and the smile doesn’t last. You take a deep breath and let it out. It’s time.

You bring the blade to your wrist and slash. The cut’s shallow, but bleeds just enough. He’s told you he’s afraid he wouldn’t be able to stop if he bit you straight away. You hold the dagger tightly in your dominant hand. You need to be ready to keep your promise to your lover, should it come to that. You watch the metamorphosis happen.

It’s not obvious at the beginning. His eyes fall closed and brows furrow a little, he jerks his head away and his breathing gets fast and heavy. Then he bares his growing fangs. You feel your blood rush, more of it spilling from the wound and his eyes shoot open. His lips close around your wrist, tongue lapping at your wound. You gasp. He must’ve been starving. He’s sucking at the wound, his tongue greedily licking up any blood that dripped down to your palm and fingers. His eyes meet yours. Dark, cold, but slowly filling with your life. He smirks, and it looks so sinful with his deadly fangs bared. You could ignore the danger if it wasn’t for the promise you made.

He never breaks eye contact while he enjoys the blood flowing from your wound before the components in his saliva start coagulating the blood, helping the wound close. If you want to look away, he nips at your skin without breaking it, a playful spark in his eyes when you glare at him.

He’s different.

It worries you a little bit.

But it also has a completely different effect that you’re sure he’s aware of as the smirk remains glued to his lips. 

When he finally pulls away, he’s humming a tune. He seems happy. And hungry. He stands up, dusting off his knees. He walks towards you and the glint in his eyes makes you walk backwards until the back of your knees hits the bed. He doesn’t stop until his body is pressed flush against yours. He’s towering over you, making you feel so small and weak. One of his hands is steading you, cold against the small of your back.

The other, however, is a problem.

Fingers of his other hand circle your wrist, holding it softly like a prayer. His thumb strokes your skin just as gently.

He studies the glinting blade of the dagger, the few dried drops of blood. All the while he keeps humming the tune, the vibrations seeping into your body as well.

Then the sound stops and he’s eerily silent.

Slowly, his eyes turn to yours. There’s no sign of the warmth that usually fills them when he looks at you.

Only hunger remains.

He smiles, almost kindly, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. He’s dangerous. That’s what your body is telling you, some primal part of your brain keeps firing out warning signs. But he’s perfect. The definition of lethal beauty.

When he feels you growing relaxed in his hold, that’s when he leans down and his lips meet yours.

It’s rough. He pulls you closer and takes advantage of the gasp you let out to slip his tongue into your mouth. You feel his ever present smirk, the chuckle that tingles your lips when you move your hips against his. He grinds into you eagerly, already hard and ready to have his way with you. If it wasn’t for a tiny little issue…

“Drop the dagger,” he purrs against your lips, nipping at your flesh when you try to kiss him again instead. He pins your hips against his, teasing with the tiniest of movements. “Drop it. Then I’ll give you everything.”

“C-Can’t,” you whisper, weak, “I promised.” He makes a faux disappointed ‘aww’ sound, his thumb brushing against the pulse point on the wrist of the hand that holds the dagger. Is it a warning? A praise from somewhere deep in his unconsciousness where your sweet docile Junhui disappears when his hunger takes over?

“But you promised it to me, didn’t you?” he coos, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of your lips, then another to your nose, then to your forehead. He cuddles you into him, your head buried into his neck. He wiggles his hips, causing such delicious friction against your clit that it makes you gasp against his skin. “Be good for me, love. I promised I wouldn’t hurt you, didn’t I? You said you trust me.”

Where your sweet boyfriend cherishes your love as a promise, Jun addicted to your blood wields it like a weapon. 

“I do trust you,” you whine, your free hand fisting in the fabric of his white shirt, “B-But you said I should do anything to protect myself if I needed to.”

He hums thoughtfully, his hips slowing down their movements. He doesn’t let you move on your own, all you can do is plead quietly against his neck.

“I did say you should do ‘anything’, hm?” the vampire smirks, lowering his lips to your ear, “You know I’m stronger. I could just take that toy away from you, but I might hurt you doing that. See? I don’t want to hurt you. I’m still protecting you from myself.”

“Please, Jun,” you breathe, “I promised you.”

You nuzzle into his neck, placing your lips where his pulse point would be if he had a pulse. You kiss up the column of his neck, taking your time. He leans away to give you more access. It’s a wonder that no matter what, he’s a putty in your hands once you start touching him. Once you reach his jaw, your kisses get sloppy. It’s all his fault, his hips rocking into yours with more pressure. You moan against his lips when you reach them, and he wastes no time kissing you back.

Jun leans on you, making you lose balance and fall on the bed. He follows, immediately reconnecting your lips. He frees your hand. It’s easier to undress you with both hands up to the task. He makes a quick job of your dress, your bra, and your underwear. You’re completely bare under him while he remains in his black pants and white shirt, you whine at the injustice. 

“You can undress me too, when it’s necessary,” he promises with a chuckle and one last kiss to your lips, “Just don’t accidently ram that blade into my skull.” 

And just like that, he trails kisses down your body. His hands knead your breasts, thumbs rolling your nipples with expertise natural to him. You’re squirming before he even reaches your mound. He seems pleased by that. It doesn’t take long before his tongue delves between your folds, his tongue swiping over your clit at your whimpers. He sucks on it carefully, teeth barely grazing the sensitive nub before giving it a few more licks. All too soon he takes his mouth off you, shifting his attention to the inner side of your thighs and sucking mark after mark onto your skin. His hands slide down to hold your hips still.

“Please, Junhui,” you beg, your free hands carding through his hair, trying to get his mouth back where you need it instead.

“Are you in a position to ask for anything, sweetheart?” he grins against your skin, his eyes meeting yours briefly, “I also asked you nicely for something and you refused. That’s not nice, is it?” Despite his chiding, he makes a show of walking his fingers towards your pussy pulsing with need, running them down towards your entrance to collect the wetness. You shiver as they brush against your clit.

“Would you look at that? I wonder how long would you keep your promise if I didn’t touch you at all,” he sneers, easing one of his fingers inside you. Your grip on his hair tightens, and he lets you pull at his hair without moving his lips any closer to your core. He only starts marking up your other thigh.

“B-but I promised you…” you cry out in frustration. Why does it feel so much like you’re talking to a different person? Your lover hums, resting his chin on your hip as he moves his thumb to circle your clit. He smirks at the immediate effect it has on you, your spine arching so beautifully.

“But you only did after I begged you, didn’t you? You actually don’t want to hold that blade, you couldn’t hurt me if you needed to,” as he talks, he adds another finger and slightly increases the speed and pressure of his thumb on your clit, “Don’t forget - I could break your hand without even meaning to. Are you forgetting how much stronger than you I am?”

He nuzzles into your stomach while you squirm under him, trying to grind against his hand uselessly. You feel the strength in his grip, feel where his fingers will leave marks. Your mind is too clouded with pleasure to concentrate on that however. The hand fisted in his hair must be hurting him, but he just keeps smirking and kissing up your stomach until his lips latch to your nipple, sucking on the bud and swirling his tongue around it. You feel your climax approaching but just as you’re about to fall into euphoria, he pulls away completely.

Your eyes close as you whimper, more hushed pleas spilling from your lips, so it’s only too late when you notice that he’s crawled over you. Straddling your hips, he slides his hands over your arms until his fingers intertwine with your yours. He takes the dagger away from you with ease, throwing it across the room. 

It’s the clank it makes that has your eyes snapping open. You gasp, and he takes the opportunity to kiss you, his tongue invading your mouth immediately. 

Your instincts fight once again - to fight or to flight? Or to submit to the apex predator on top of you? Seems like the third option is the choice your mind makes.

You melt under him, willing your muscles to relax. He smiles into the kiss, not the loving smile you’re used to. It’s almost wistful.

Jun pulls away just as you get desperate for air. With one more kiss to the corner of your lips he whispers: “Don’t forget, I could eat you out, but I could also eat you alive.”

As if to emphasize his point, he takes your lower lip between his teeth, his sharp fangs grazing the tender flesh without drawing blood. You whimper and he lets go.

“Afraid yet, little one?” he smirks, one of his hands caressing your cheek.

“No, just nervous,” you breathe out, willing the words to be true, “You said you’ll protect me, that you won’t hurt me. I trust you.”

“Always so good for me,” he praises, patting your hair. You remember how harsh you pulled on his hair, concern flashing over your face, making him hum in question.

“Did I hurt you?” you ask, reaching up to twirl one of his locks around your finger. He chuckles, leaning down to kiss you once more, reassuring you better than words ever could.

“You couldn’t hurt me if you tried, mortal,” he teases, but his demeanor changes, if only for a minute. His noses along your cheek, pressing more soft kisses to your skin. Leaning his forehead against yours, he looks into your eyes and kisses you. His eyes are dark, clouded over with lust and hunger, but strangely it doesn’t scare you - the opposite. You’re more sure you can trust him to keep his own promise when you failed to keep yours.

“I think you’re being very good for me,” he whispers, his hand stroking down your body until it reaches your still soaked center. His fingers slip right in without any resistance. He watches with glee as you moan his name so softly, your hands curling around his forearms, nails sinking into his flesh when his thumb finds your clit once more.

“Is that enough?” he inquires. Before he can get his answer, he hisses when you jerk suddenly under him, your thigh brushing against the bulge in his pants. You eye him with such unadulterated desire that he growls and only barely stops himself before he can bite your neck with all of his strength. You’re a danger to yourself, and thus to him as well. But you don’t need to know that.

“Careful, darling,” he warns, lips closing around your pulse point as you whimper and squirm, his fingers curling inside you just right. “I want to keep my promise, but you’re making it so hard.”

The immortal crawls down your body until lips can once more cover your core and his tongue toy with your clit. The vibrations of his groans when you pull on his hair again send your mind into an overdrive, as does the rapid flicking of his tongue over your most sensitive part. His fingers do not slow down either, pumping in and out of you at just the perfect pace. He curls them inside to always brush and push against the one spot that makes you see stars. 

You know it’s not smart to lose your mind with a predator in your bed, but you can’t help it. His name keeps spilling from your lips, veiled by moans and pleas. You don’t realize how tight you’re gripping the strands of his hair - but he does, and that with your breathless chanting of your pleasure drives him crazy. His hips buck into the mattress, desperate for any relief. But with the way you’re clenching around his fingers he knows he won’t have to wait too long to have you.

He replaces his mouth with his thumb again, you don’t seem to mind or really notice, tethering right on the edge of your climax. Instead his lips latch to the marked skin of your thighs and just as your orgasm hits, his teeth sink in.

He’d love to watch your back arch, would love to hear your broken gasp at the pain and pleasure that go so well together, but your blood rushes into his system and it fills him so completely. It’s so hot, so delicious, so intimately yours that he can’t perceive anything but the euphoria of his bloodlust satisfied.

You don’t realize just how much worse than having your orgasm denied is forcing himself to retract his teeth, to lap at the wound to help it heal and stop bleeding instead of drinking and drinking until he’s lost to the blood. But he can’t lose you. So he stops himself, peppering gentle kisses on your thigh once there are only two marks where he drank from, the blood coagulating and protecting your precious life.

“Junnie…” your soft voice finally reaches his ears, and he notices your hands in his hair - gentle, soothing the ache you caused. He smirks, kissing right on the puncture wounds before he covers your body with his again, allowing you to snuggle closer to him, to hide your face in the crook of his neck.

“Did I hurt you?” he asks, his hands gently stroking your back. Relief washes over him when you shake your head with a little ‘no’. You’re cherished, even if thirst still buzzes just under his skin and at the edge of consciousness. When he needs you so viscerally.

“Come closer,” you whine, and he wants to argue he’s close enough, until you start tugging at his clothes and he realizes what you mean. He takes your wrists into his hands, stopping you with a gentle yet stern look.

“Little mortal, if I allow you to take my clothes off, can you handle the consequences?” he wonders aloud. When you give him a curious look, he smirks, pulling your hips closer to his. You see the effort it takes him not to close his eyes at the slightest friction.

“Why so surprised? You know I get hungry for more when I drink from you,” he purrs. He lets go of your wrists, offers the choice to you. But you already know what you crave, and it’s him.

Your hands find his shirt again, unbuttoning it slowly, purposely brushing your fingers over his icy skin. His eyes burn into yours, the smirk on his lips as relaxed as it is amused.

“Why is it like that?” you ask, “You said it doesn’t happen when you feed from other people.” He makes a thoughtful noise, trying hard to focus on answering instead of your fingers hovering above the last button.

“Because you’re mine. Your blood calls to me,” he says in the end, “Maybe you’re bound to me now. There are many mysteries, my love, let’s take advantage of them.”

And advantage you take, palming him over his pants. He curls towards you slightly before he can compose himself, his hips pressing against your palm. He chuckles darkly, one hand cupping your face.

“You’re playing a dangerous game,” he warns, and you see his words for what they are. You don’t tease him any longer, instead undoing his pants and helping him pull them off until he’s as bare as you are. 

Before you can do much more, he pulls you down, flipping you on your stomach. You gasp when he pins you down with his body, freezing cold against your warm skin. You feel his hardness pushing against your entrance, rocking back to get him to move, more than ready to feel him inside.

“Impatient, always so impatient,” he scolds, “And I’ve done nothing but wait, so you can too, can’t you?”

You want to ask him what he means, but then you feel the tips of his fangs dive into your neck ever so slowly just as he pushes his hips against yours, entering you with the same languid pace as his teeth.

Your instincts ring the alarms again, but even if you wanted to run, it’d be impossible. It hurts. The side of your neck he’s feeding from burns without pleasure, unlike the stretch of his cock inside you. You feel helpless, and you are, but that makes it all the more arousing.

The vampire doesn’t feed for too long. He knows he wouldn’t be able to stop if he did, and the short, almost teasing tiny little sips he takes from you are the sweetest torture. His only consolation is knowing he’ll eventually be full before the night ends.

You whimper when he starts grinding into you slowly, dragging his heavy cock through your walls. His head is swimming with the noises you make and the taste of your blood still fresh on his tongue.

“S-Sensitive,” you mewl as he picks up the pace, unable to control himself as well as he usually is.

“I know, I know,” he coos, “But you can take it for me, right?” He kisses over the wound he made, and you tilt your head, giving him more access despite feeling overwhelmed even by his teeth as your sensitive skin.

“I can, love you, need you,” you cry as he snaps his hips forward. You try to meet his thrusts and relish in his groans right next to your ear as he fucks you from behind.

“Love you too,” he sighs, “Need you so much.” You feel his teeth on your neck again, closing your eyes with a yelp as he bites without warning. This time his fangs sink deeper, drawing more blood faster and he’s so careful, allowing himself only a few seconds of heaven before he pulls away, watching the blood spill and pulse from the wound. His thrusts get brutal, fast and hard and you have nowhere to run but towards him. You offer yourself up to him completely, allowing him to do as he wishes as you cum again. 

It drives him further into insanity as he laps at the spilled blood while his hip piston in and out of you at hellish pace. He cleans up the blood, but it’s messy anyway, red marks all over your neck and shoulder, on his mouth and chin. Tears well up in your eyes and fall. It’s all too much and not enough. 

"Your blood is so…" he growls, fangs scratching your sensitive skin. Your entire body writhes in overstimulation, too sensitive. It's like you're getting drunk off of him. His teeth and tongue leave scarlet streaks in their wake. Your fingers curl around his forearm, nails digging into his skin again. Tiny crescents decorate his skin all over, making him huff a laugh.

"You're so weak, so mortal," he thrusts particularly hard, making you cry out. He shushes you with a kiss to the top of your head. "See?"

He’s fucking into you roughly, insatiable. His teeth find another spot. You're getting too weak to whine after each bite, accepting the sting and the scorching sensation that follows. They only last a couple seconds. You know he’s only drinking a little at a time, and you can’t imagine how hard it must be for him.

"I need more," he moans, breathy and gone, "Need you entirely. Need your everything." He grinds against you, slowly now, aiming his thrusts so that he hits your sweet spot every time and you can only mewl and take it as more words spill from his lips.

"I could devour you," he laughs, sucking a mark right above the wounds left by his fangs, "Just fucking eat you whole."

His lips keep working over your skin, biting without taking any more of your blood, sucking marks and licking. He can't get enough, and you crave impossibly more.

"I could tear you apart. Piece by piece," he whispers, nuzzling into your shoulder so carefully while his hips snaps back to the fast and punishing pace, "Muscle after muscle. It'd be the best meal of my life."

You should be terrified. You would be terrified, but he holds you so dearly. While he ran his mouth, one of his arms snaked under you around your waist and the other is pulling you closer to him, pressed between your arm and body and gripling your shoulder but even so his hold is so careful not to hurt you. His thumb absentmindedly draws patterns on your skin and you lean into his touch. 

No matter what he says, you're safe. He's with you, and he wouldn’t let anyone hurt you. Least of all himself.

He doesn’t stop pounding into you as he pulls you up against his chest. He’s so cold against your back it makes your spine arch. Your eyes roll to the back of your skull. One of his hands snakes up your torso until his palm lies flat between your breasts.

“You’re so fragile,” he groans into your ear, “You’d be so helpless if I wanted to hurt you.” As if to make his point, he adds more pressure against your sternum. It’s getting harder to breathe with the additional resistance.

“I could tear this pretty beating heart out,” he purrs, nails digging into your skin without breaking it, “You couldn’t stop me if you tried.”

It’s then that you notice his thrusts changed. 

He was fucking you to the rhythm of your heartbeat.

The realization makes you clench on his cock, milking him as you cum again with a broken cry. He curses, letting both your bodies fall forward without ceasing his thrusting. Your vision is getting black, everywhere he touches feels like your skin is on fire.

“I could pull it out whole, veins at all. I could drink your blood straight from your heart,” he moans, voice breaking. He kisses your neck, teeth sinking into your skin once again. You whimper, the pleasure ebbing away into overstimulation. His cock stretching your walls is too much, his teeth in your flesh too, you’re getting lightheaded and it’s not because of the bloodloss.

“It’d be so warm,” he continues, licking his ruby red lips and the puncture wounds on your neck, sealing them, “So delicious. Your blood is so addictive, love. I can’t help myself, I need it. I’d squeeze it all out of your heart and then drink more from your body until there’s not a drop left.” 

You beg him to slow down, you think you do, you want to, but all you hear coming from your mouth is breathless more, more. His words make you tremble in his hold, whine softly, even as you keep squeezing him.

"It'd be so bloody, so lovely," his thrusts grow frantic, shaking your overstimulated body, "I'd be covered in your blood, in you, your life."

“I’d love that so much,” he gasps, his head falling on your shoulder, lips kissing your heated skin. It reminds you of him, how he really is. “But I won’t do that…” 

He trails off as his teeth sink into you again, but you can feel the words he doesn’t say even when he bottoms out and stills as he fills you up with his cum.

…because I love you. 

You feel his body trembling on top of yours. You can’t move, the pain in your neck is sharp and paralyzing, and you’re too tired. Perhaps it is the blood loss this time. Just as the thought passes through your mind, he lets go. He makes sure the wound is sealed before stretching his body over yours to kiss your temple with the tenderness you’re used to. You smile, faintly aware of his voice. Everything grows distant and your body feels heavy. Darkness takes you. 

When you come to again, you feel safe. That’s all your hazy mind takes note of - the feeling of safety. You’re warm. Someone is cradling you to their chest, and it doesn’t take long for you to remember and realize who it is. The lack of heartbeat kind of gives him away. You nuzzle into Jun’s shoulder, arms looping around his waist weakly.

“Love?” he asks, voice soft yet there’s a sense of urgency. You miss that, though, only humming in response. It’s enough for him anyway as he sighs. You feel him kiss the top of your head.

“You scared me,” he whispers, and this time you can’t miss the fragile quality of his voice. He shifts so that he can look at you because he refuses to allow you to do so. You see his sad eyes and immediately hold his face in your hands.

“I hurt you a lot, didn’t I?” he says, eyes falling closed and you know he regrets it, despite having done nothing wrong. You remind him of that.

“Jun, you feeding from me is painful, yes, but you didn’t hurt me,” you try to get him to open his eyes, “And you didn’t scare me either. Everything was - and is - alright.” Still you find it pretty tiring to talk, you realize. Your eyes close without your permission, only opening again when he caresses your cheek.

“I drank too much, look how weak you are,” he argues gently, pulling you impossibly closer, “We’re never doing this again. I almost lost you.”

You chuckle, opting to save energy by keeping your eyes closed.

“Love, I’m alright. Just a little tired. Nobody’s losing anyone,” you kiss his collarbone as you speak, lips brushing against his skin with every word, “Besides I have you to take care of me now.”

“I’m here,” he promises, “I’m here. Sleep. I’ll run you a bath afterwards, hm?”

You make a sound in agreement, but all too soon you’re falling asleep again.

Upon waking up this time, you find he didn’t move an inch, still holding you with the same tenderness as before. He shushes you as you start to squirm.

“I feel better, Jun,” you assure your boyfriend, “But I really want the bath now.” With enough energy to notice the condition your body is in, the cum drying on your thighs, the flakes of dried blood on your neck and shoulder, and the soreness of your muscles, you’re ready to fight him for the damn bath should you need to.

“Sorry, I’m on it,” he promises quickly, running off to the bathroom after making sure you’re cocooned in a fresh blanket. 

You feel a little dizzy, you realize as you evaluate the state you’re in. You’re sore all over, and the spots he’s bitten hurt still. You’re weak, but you know you’ll be fine. After all, he’ll put you on bedrest for a couple days at least, that’s for sure. 

He comes in a few minutes later, cautious until he sees you’re still awake. You give him a smile, one he returns. You know it’d be useless to so much as try to get up on your own, so you let him unwrap you from the blanket and carry you to the bathroom. He carefully lets you down into the bathtub and only gets in as well when you pout at him. He really can’t say no to you.

He sits in front of you, so you can see his face fall and eyes grow sad again when he spots the puncture marks on your neck. He runs his fingers over all four pairs of them, before remembering and checking the one on your thigh as well. 

“Junhui, look at me,” you call his name. He does, but the spark in his eyes is missing. You sigh. “You didn’t hurt me, and I was safe. You took care of me throughout your feeding, don’t you remember?” 

He shakes his head vehemently.

“I don’t want to remember,” he says bitterly, “I should’ve been gentler.”

“I don’t mind it rough sometimes,” you joke, trying to ease the atmosphere and his mood, but he only whines.

“You know what I mean,” he looks so upset it surprises you, and it makes you feel a little guilty. It was your request after all. 

“Jun, I’m fine, and I enjoyed it,” you reassure him, “Even if I really need and crave some tender care now.” He doesn’t look convinced, but at the very least he smiles a little.

“That I’m more than ready to give you,” he leans forward, lying half on top of you, his ear resting just above your heart. You don’t remind him it’s the same heart he wanted to pull out of your chest just hours prior.

“Just let me rest here for a while,” he murmurs softly, lips almost submerged under the water, “When the hunger went away, you were in my arms, cold and weak, it felt like you were barely breathing. I was so afraid.”

That explains a lot. You wrap your arms around him, one of your hands running through his hair and massaging his scalp. You’re sure it must hurt too, but you don’t ask him.

“I’m here, I’m alive,” you hum, “You wouldn’t hurt me. And you didn’t try either.”

He nods, closing his eyes. He hears your heart beating, feels your lungs expanding and shrinking with each breath you take, yet the first image he saw when the madness of bloodthirst faded stays in his mind. It haunts him for nights and days.