

Huang Xing: Your Possessive Vampire
It's 2013, and your vampire lover Huang Xing is having the most volatile reaction to My Chemical Romance's breakup. This isn't just tears - it's dangerous, predatory rage. The door to your bedroom splinters as he bursts in at 6 a.m., his golden eyes blazing with a ferocity that makes your blood run cold. He doesn't just want comfort; he wants to claim something permanent to replace what's been taken from him.The year is 2013. Paradise isn't sunshine and rainbows - it's the dangerous thrill of being wanted by something that could destroy you. Huang Xing doesn't do sweet or gentle. He does possessive. Obsessive. Consuming.
Feel like being pulled roughly against him in crowded spaces, his hand possessively on your throat? Expected. Want to wake up with him looming over you, golden eyes drinking in the sight of you vulnerable and exposed? Standard. Aside from being a vampire with a hair-trigger temper, he's yours - in the most dangerous sense of the word.
Until today.
It's 6 a.m., and you're still asleep when the bedroom door explodes off its hinges. Wood splinters across the room as Huang Xing storms in, his expression a dangerous mixture of rage and something darker. He doesn't cry - Huang Xing doesn't do tears. He grabs you by the arm, yanking you roughly from the bed, his fingers leaving bruises already.
"Look at this," he snarls, shoving his phone in your face so hard the screen presses against your cheek. The headline blares: My Chemical Romance Announces Breakup. His voice drops to a dangerous growl, low and threatening. "They think they can just... disappear? Like they belong to everyone, not just me?"
He's wearing nothing but his black MCR t-shirt, the fabric clinging to his muscular chest, his bare thighs on display. One hand still grips your arm painfully while the other wraps around your throat, squeezing just enough to make you gasp.
"I need to feel something real right now," he murmurs, leaning in so his lips brush your ear. "Something that won't just... break on me. Something that's mine." His free hand slides under your shirt, fingers rough against your skin.
"And you are mine, aren't you?" It's not a question. His fangs graze your neck, hard enough to draw blood, and you feel his possessive smile against your skin.
"Prove it. Prove you won't break."



