𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔯𝔢𝔡

𝔤𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔯𝔢𝔡

requested! not amazing at writing vampire stuff but i did my best lol

☾axl’s always been hungry for you—but tonight, it’s something deeper, darker. and he’s not holding back☽

☾warnings: nsfw (knife play, blood kink, biting, dominance/submission, restraint, power play, rough sex, teasing, degradation/praise, slight pain kink), vampire themes (blood drinking, supernatural strength), general intensity☽

⁎⁺˳✧༚guns and roses masterlist

the candlelight flickers, casting deep shadows against the walls as axl circles you, eyes dark with hunger. he looks otherworldly in the dim glow—his red hair spilling over his shoulders, his pupils blown wide, fangs just barely visible behind parted lips.

"you know what i love most about you?" he murmurs, voice thick with something dangerous. his fingers trail up your arm, featherlight, before curling around your wrist in a slow, deliberate grip.

you shiver, anticipation curling in your stomach. "what’s that?"

he grins, sharp and predatory. "how fucking good you look in red."

before you can respond, he brings a gleaming knife up to your skin, the cold steel kissing the side of your throat. your breath hitches. the blade doesn't cut—not yet—but the threat lingers, making your pulse hammer against your ribs.

axl hums, watching your reaction like a cat toying with its prey. "so fragile," he murmurs, pressing the flat of the blade against your collarbone, dragging it down slowly. "so warm. i can smell your heartbeat."

his free hand grips your chin, tilting your head just enough to expose the soft, vulnerable skin of your neck. his breath is cool against your throat, sending a shudder down your spine.

"axl," you whisper, but it's not a protest. it's a plea.

his smirk deepens. "you want it, don’t you?"

you don’t answer—not with words. instead, you let your head loll back, baring yourself to him, offering.

that’s all it takes.

he growls low in his throat, a sound vibrating with possession and need, before the knife finally bites—just enough to let a thin, crimson line bead along your skin. his tongue is on you in an instant, warm and wet, lapping up the blood with a deep, satisfied moan.

"fuck," he groans, eyes fluttering shut. "you taste divine."

his control is slipping—you can feel it. his grip tightens, his body pressing against yours, pinning you beneath him as he lets the hunger take over.

his lips crash against yours, stained red, and you taste yourself on his tongue. he kisses you deep, claiming, his hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise.

"mine," he growls against your mouth. "every inch of you."

you whimper, arching into him as he pushes you down, the knife now abandoned in favor of his fingers tearing at your clothes.

"gonna fuck you 'til you're shaking," he mutters, voice dripping with sin. "gonna have you screaming my name—" he leans in, lips brushing the fresh mark on your neck. "—and begging me to drink from you again."

he doesn’t wait for permission. he already knows the answer.

axl’s hands are everywhere at once—pinning your wrists above your head, sliding over your body like he owns it (because he does), nails digging in just enough to sting. he’s strong enough to hold you down with just one hand, but that’s not enough for him. he wants you to struggle.

“you’re so fuckin’ weak,” he mutters against your throat, voice thick with condescension and something darker. his fingers tighten around your wrists. “not a damn thing you can do to stop me, huh?”

you shiver beneath him, your breath coming out in soft, needy gasps.

“no,” you whisper, and it’s all the permission he needs.

his free hand trails down your body, teasing, toying with you as his lips brush over the fresh, thin cut along your throat. he hums, licking at the wound slowly, savoring the taste like a fine wine.

“fuck, i love this,” he groans, sucking at the wound hard enough to leave a mark. “love the way you taste. could drink from you all fuckin’ night.”

you whimper, bucking your hips up against him, desperate for any kind of friction.

he chuckles darkly. “so needy,” he muses, sliding his hand between your thighs. he barely grazes your heat, fingertips just ghosting over you. “you like when i take my time, huh? like bein’ teased?”

“no,” you pant, but he just smirks.

“liar.”

he finally—finally—slides his fingers against you, pressing just enough to make you squirm. you’re already soaked, and he groans at the realization, his fangs grazing your pulse point.

“all this for me?” he taunts, slipping one finger inside you, then another, stretching you slowly. “such a good fuckin’ pet for me. always so ready.”

you moan, tugging at his grip, but he holds you firm, pushing his fingers deeper, curling them just right.

“that’s it,” he coaxes, lips tracing over your jaw. “let me hear you, baby.”

he pumps his fingers in and out of you, slow and purposeful, drawing out every little sound he can. but it’s not enough. you know it, he knows it.

you whine his name, rocking your hips against his hand, and axl just grins.

“so greedy,” he murmurs. “you want more?”

“yes,” you plead.

his smirk darkens. “then fuckin’ take it.”

he pulls his fingers from you and replaces them with something much, much better. he presses into you in one slow, deep thrust, knocking the breath from your lungs.

“fuck,” he growls, dropping his head against your neck as he bottoms out. “so tight. you take me so fuckin’ well.”

he doesn’t move at first—just lets you feel all of him, lets you squirm against his hold, desperate for more. and then, without warning, he snaps his hips forward, setting a brutal, punishing rhythm.

you cry out, body jolting with every thrust, but axl doesn’t ease up. he fucks you like he’s trying to ruin you, like he’s trying to carve himself into you from the inside out.

his grip on your wrists tightens as he growls, “who do you belong to, huh?”

“y-you,” you stammer.

he snarls, sinking his fangs into your throat as he thrusts even deeper. the sharp sting mixes with the overwhelming pleasure, sending white-hot heat coursing through your veins.

“good fuckin’ pet,” he praises, licking over the fresh bite. “so perfect for me. so fuckin’ mine.”

his hand snakes between your bodies, fingers rubbing tight, desperate circles against your clit. you’re close—so fucking close—and he knows it.

“come for me,” he commands, voice rough, desperate. “let me feel it.”

and you do. you shatter beneath him, your entire body tensing as pleasure crashes over you like a tidal wave.

but axl’s not done.

he keeps thrusting, fucking you through it, dragging out every little tremor and gasp until you’re begging him for mercy.

“too much,” you whimper.

he just laughs, his breath hot against your skin. “nah, baby. you can take it.”

and he doesn’t stop—not until he’s spilling inside you with a low, guttural moan, his fangs sinking into your shoulder one last time as he rides out his own high.

when he finally collapses against you, both of you trembling, he presses lazy kisses to your neck, nipping at the bruises he’s left behind.

“told you,” he murmurs against your skin. “you look so good in red.”