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hihi!! idk what this is but everybody else is writing really bad smut so here’s my really bad smut! this story belongs to “lala !!” ᡣ𐭩ྀིྀི₊ ⊹
— TW : SMUT (consensually you freak) AND INAPPROPRIATE LANGUAGE —
“No. No, the white haired man told himself as his eyes settled on his worst nightmare brought the life. No, this could not be real. His dearest girl, the one he worshipped like no other, was strapped to a wooden stake. The flames engulfed her, blazing against her usually ethereal pale skin. The way the fire crackled against the wooden logs reminded him of the way his heart lit ablaze, the way his entire life turned to nothing but an abundance of flames and chaos in this very moment.
‘Bernadette!’ He called to his lover. Arden wanted to hold her, to cherish her, to tell her everything was okay. But how could he? How could he tell her that everything was okay when it was nothing but? Who was he to lie to the woman who brought him nothing but joy — the one who loved him despite those fangs that protruded from his canines?
He scrambled towards the wooden pit, falling to his knees infront of his burning lover. Her cries of agony couldn’t hold a candle to his anguished sobs that he let free of his choked throat.
‘No! No, my love, my beautiful— NO!’ The youngling screamed, his entire body convulsing in pain as the light refracted off of the burning flames. But the physical pain could not match the mental torture he was being put through.
He would forever hate whoever did this to her. The one who snatched the love of his life right out of his grasp, sending her into an untimely death that the soul did nothing to deserve.
Yet, he couldn’t help but think : was this all his fault? Was Bernadette, HIS Bernadette, being burnt at the stake because she had an affair with a vampire? He couldn’t help but cry harder at the thought.
The vampire’s sobs filled the song of the quiet town, the woodland creatures chirping in harmony to his rhythmic cries. As the fire depleted like the spark in his eyes, his hands reaching to grab onto the ashes that remained of his lover.
The substance slipped out of his hands just as his hopes and dreams did. Nothing could replace the hole in his heart, the part of him that would be forever missing without his one and on—“
“Y/N?”
The girl squeaked in shock, slamming the book she had ‘borrowed’ from her vampire host shut before he could see the words gracing the pages.
“What are you doing awake?”
The (h/c) slowly turned, her face painted in a sloppy grin as she rocked on her heels awkwardly.
“Mr. Emmanuel!—“
“Arden.” The long haired vampire corrected with a cock of the eyebrow.
“…Arden. Right. Arden! What a pleasure to see you here!”
The man, who she now realized was from the novel she had just entertained herself with, scoffed, his brows raised in a “I’m-not-falling-for-your-shenanigans-again-(Y/N)” manner. Instead of reprimanding her like he truly wanted too, he simply resorted to a shake of his head and a sharp glare. “A pleasure… to see me… in my own library?”
Brittany laughed loudly as an interjection, starting to speak up again before he could continue.
“Yes!” The girl attempted, tucking the leather book behind her back. Her heart was beating so rapidly she was sure he could hear it. “I mean, you… words… are hard…. You didn’t seem like the reading type!”
Arden snorted, his arms still crossed like an angry father. He stopped entertaining her delusions further at this point. He snapped his fingers and the book she had been so desperately trying to conceal from him appeared in his left palm.
“Ah.” He clicked his tongue, his teeth gritting together as he looked at the title. The magical book, feeling it’s masters frustration, shied away from him. The words became much less readable and instead were mushed together, like a ballad soup, so to say. “A pathetic novel. I was so weak back then, wasn’t I?”
(Y/N) looked up at him with curious eyes. Pathetic? She didn’t think so. The way he was so hopelessly devoted to his love was… endearing. She felt her heart swell at the idea of him crying over her, feeling nothing but surges of love surrounding (Y/N). If only… she was just a mere guest in the vampire’s mansion, seeking refuge from the cursed forest under his wing.
“No. You weren’t. I think I prefer an emotional Arden over one as stone-hearted as you.” The girl giggled, pressing her index fringe against his unbeating heart. Unfortunately, they didn’t seem to be close enough for such activities, as (Y/N) was immediately backed into Arden’s desk.
“I am not stone-hearted, little dove.” He grunted, grabbing a fistful of her hair and forcing it back. The girl whimpered, and at the sound, his piercingly golden eyes settled. His grip loosened and transformed into a gentle caress, stroking her hair as if she was a little girl again.
“I can be much more feeling than you’d think.”
(Y/N), despite the fear coursing through her veins and the right side of her brain screaming at her to “STOP!,” let out a small snicker in amusement.
“You? Feel something? I don’t think the word ‘emotion’ is even in your vocabulary.”
Arden snickered right with her, grabbing under her thighs and seating her atop his wooden desk. He moved all the knickknacks, most of which being crafts from (Y/N), out of the way and laid her down on the warm wood. Not as warm as their two, hot bodies starting to mesh together.
The white-haired male flashed a sinister grin at her, his hands resting on the side of her hips. “Just like how the word gentle isn’t?” He asked with a head tilt, his hands slipping lower at his malice filled words.
(Y/N) gasped at the feeling of his hands slowly inching towards her sex, his cold fingers latching around the waistband and slowly pulling her pants down.
While Arden looked all comfortable and smug, he was internally panicking. If his expression was a mask, his face below the coating of confidence would be that of a lovestruck teenage boy, despite being more than centuries old. He had experience, yes, but it was… so much different with (Y/N).
He hadn’t felt this way since Bernadette. No, no, that was a lie — he never felt this way for Bernadette. He thought he knew what love was, but seeing (Y/N) beneath him, trembling and warm, he couldn’t help but rethink it.
Maybe his own, subjective definition of love wasn’t as convoluted as he believed. He used to think of it as a complex feeling, a concept he could never wrap his head around despite his years of experience.
Yet, he was beginning to believe that it wasn’t that intricate. As his thumb gently stroked over her concealed lips, he begun to realize that his interpretation of love was simply (Y/N).
(NO IM NOT DONE IM SORRY IT WAS SO LONG WITH LIKE LITTLE TO NO SPICE… this might flop so even if ONE person wants to hear the rest… I’ll publish it 🤝)
- lala !! :¨ ·.· ¨:
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