I know it was wrong… but God, a part of me wants it again

{if Darkness < 50}

What does it say about me that I can still feel the ghost of her lips on my skin?

I know what she did was wrong. That much is clear. She used me. Took from me. Bent my mind until pain felt like pleasure and fear tasted sweet. But even knowing that... I can't stop thinking about her.

Not just the hunger in her eyes, but the way she looked at me like I was something she wanted. Desired. Needed. No one's ever made me feel that way, not like that.

My fingers again touch the faint puncture marks on my neck. They're barely scabbed over, but the heat in my chest rises like she just touched me again.

God, what am I doing? She's a vampire. A literal monster. Lucius said she's dangerous—and he doesn't strike me as the type to lie for fun. And yet... I keep thinking about her mouth. The thrill. The fire.

No. I shake my head. I'm not her toy. Whatever she awakened in me, I have to control it. I can want, but I don't have to obey. I can't let myself become someone who craves being hurt just because it felt good once.

But part of me already misses her.

{else}

I’m sprawled on my couch and after some time all I can think about is Ariadne. I want her, fuck, I want her so bad it hurts. There, I said it.

Her fangs sinking into my neck. Her lips crashing into mine, wet with my own blood. Her voice, low and commanding, telling me who to be—hers, completely.

I’m fucked up for wanting this. I know it. But I don’t care.

Lucius’s words echo in my head, all serious and shit, saying she’s careless, that she doesn’t think about consequences. Maybe she’s a monster, but she made me feel so good and alive that I have my body now screaming for her.

No one’s ever done that to me. Hell, maybe I’d sell my fucking soul to feel it again, who knows?

My hand slides between my thighs, slow, deliberate, my breath catching as my fingers brush my panties. They’re already soaked, just from thinking about her—her teeth, her tongue, that sharp sting turning to bliss.

I close my eyes, picturing Ariadne watching me, her mesmerizing green eyes gleaming lustfully together with that smug smile telling me to give in. My fingers slip under the fabric, touching myself, feeling my clit throb under my touch.

“Fuck,” I whisper, voice shaky, imagining her commanding me, her voice in my head, Touch yourself for me, Thalia. I’m so wet it’s obscene, my fingers are gliding through my slickness and circling faster and faster.

She didn’t ask for permission in that alley. Didn’t need to. I wanted her to take me, to drink my blood and make me hers.

My other hand grabs my breast, squeezing hard, nails digging into my skin, mimicking her grip. I moan, hips bucking against my fingers, picturing her fangs piercing me, her lips sucking, greedy, pulling my blood.

The memory’s so vivid—her tongue lapping my neck, the wet gulp of her feeding, the way pleasure exploded through me, like my whole body was coming apart. I rub myself harder, fingers dipping inside, two, then three, stretching, chasing that high.

“Oh, Ariadne...” I gasp, imagining her pinning me to the wall, her red hair spilling over my skin, her growl vibrating against my throat. My core clenches, heat building, my thighs trembling as I fuck myself to her memory.

I’m lost in it, the way she made me feel—raw, alive, like I was hers to break. My fingers move faster, curling deep, my thumb pressing my clit, and I’m so close, panting, ****.

She didn’t just bite me—she claimed me, rewired me, made me crave her like a ****. And I want her to do it again, to sink her teeth in, to take everything until there’s nothing left but pure bliss...

With that thought, or more correctly, admission to self, a climax hits me like a fucking freight train, and my entire body is pulsing like my blood’s burning in my veins. I scream, body arching off the couch, fingers buried deep, shaking as waves of pleasure rip through me.

Finally, I collapse, panting, dizzy and drenched in sweat and my own mess. My hand’s still between my thighs, slick, and my neck tingles, like her bite’s still there, haunting me.

And then the reality hits me. What the hell did I just do? This is so fucking wrong. If I’m not careful, I could lose myself in this shit, I might even let her... swallow me whole if I ever meet her. And fuck, that idea—giving it all up to her—is so damn tempting it scares me. She's out there somewhere in the dark, trying to find me and finish the job, while I've been rubbing one out, fantasising about it.

I catch my breath, staring at the ceiling, my heart still racing. God, I gotta stop thinking like this, but her taste, her fangs, her voice… I don't think I'll be able to resist her in case she finds me... cause if she does find me... I'm pretty much fucked, aren't I? So better do what Lucius said and don't fuck around after dark...

{endif}