#BUT THEIR MERE PRESENCE FILLS ME WITH JOY

[vqnrouged]

⠀⠀HAII uhhmm... moot 😋🥳 eemrmtm... if im NIT mistaken, i saw ur request status open so emrntm.. :sweats: (sorru im kinda awkward w interacting w new ppl 😓)

⠀⠀may i request⠀⠀ second years X gn!reader⠀⠀ who's frequently (sl)eepy but is really, REALLu good at combat???!! like they'd often see [n] tiref in general; though when classes were dismissed, they "unintentionally" saw the reader quarreling some npc who's mildly injured (and possibly a lopsided ankle for the fun of it🤑) and just one tapped the npc's pressure point causing them to faint and BOOM!! reader caught the [insert character] staring at the scene whilst the reader acts like nothing happened 😼😼

⠀⠀SORRY IF IT'S REALLT SPECIFIC i tried to get a hold of myself when i saw ur guidelines when requesting and i hope this isn't too much 😓 my brain is currently filled w tons of chaos and i feel like expressing them at some point /e cry..... BUT TAKE YOUR TIME!! it's no pressure to be doing this in a hurry cuz im often busy w tumblr too and i might not notice it's already been minutes, hours, days or weeks after this request hdhsjsshbs

𝐒𝐄𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐃 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐒 𝐖/ 𝐀 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐘 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐁𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐅𝐄𝐂𝐓 𝐏𝐓. 𝟏

𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠 : mystery girl by housecall

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 : floyd leech, kalim al-asim, jamil viper, silver

𝐚/𝐧 : i’m sorry i took so long to answer this request, zen. i got caught up with school. :( forgive me for being a lil’ rusty with my writing, i’m trying to get used to it again. hence why i split this into two parts. please enjoy!

𝐅𝐋𝐎𝐘𝐃 𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐂𝐇

Absolute boredom was the only way to describe the end of the school day. The last class always seemed to drone on and on until Floyd found some form of entertainment in a random object, preferably one he could use to bother someone else. However, his joy would always be cut short due to Trein’s exceptionally keen vision and intolerance for disruptions. To put it kindly, he was a total buzz kill.

Hence the pure excitement Floyd felt when he exited the classroom, only to see you, the oh so famous prefect, taking down a larger student in mere seconds. It fascinated him, you were so tiny yet you took the big fishy down so quickly? Consider this eel impressed.

And he was not about to pass up this opportunity for entertainment, so he slowly approached you and the student that laid unconscious on the cold tile. It wasn’t until he stood directly behind you that he uttered even a single word.

Floyd quietly put his head on your shoulder. “Whatcha doin’, shrimpy?” He whispered.

You jumped back from the new presence, and of course it had to be Floyd of all people who found you. Talk about bad luck, he was not going to be letting this go.

A nervous chuckle left you as you turned to face him, your hands clasped together behind your back. “Oh hey, Floyd. What’s up?”

He waved his hand in a relaxed manner. “Oh, nothin’ much. I just so happened ta’ be heading towards the lounge when I happened to see my Shrimpy making a ruckus.”

Your eyes widened in surprise. Then a thought occurred to you, could you trick Floyd? So, you quickly came up with an excuse. “What-!? No, I was just heading back to the dorm.”

The eel suddenly got serious, his mismatched eyes stared down at you, unblinking. “Shrimpy, you’re a really bad liar.”

Okay, so that was a terrible excuse. You definitely should have seen this coming.

He relaxed his expression, an eagerness now playing behind his eyes. “Let’s cut to the chase. How’d ya take that big fishy down so easily?” He asked.

You didn’t reply for a moment, too shocked to come up with an answer.

Floyd then grabbed onto your shoulders, aggressively shaking your body as if money would start falling out of your pockets. “Shrimpyyyy, c’mon tell Floydie how you did it!” He whined

You released a loud sigh, putting your hands over Floyd’s to hopefully cease his actions. “Fine, I used martial arts.”

Floyd still had an iron grip on your shoulders, but upon hearing the boring explanation for your royal take down of a Diasomnia student, he slumped down with a pout. “That simple of an explanation? You should’ve just spit it out.”

His disappointed frown then turned into a large, sharp-toothy grin as he eagerly brushed passed you towards the poor student you knocked out. “Let me help ya dispose of the body!”

“FLOYD.”

𝐊𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐌 𝐀𝐋-𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐌

After finally being let out from his afternoon classes, Kalim was ready to get back to the dorm and set up for the banquet later that evening. But much to his surprise, he was soon met with a tantalizing sight upon turning the corner.

You, the esteemed prefect, famously known for rivaling even Silver in the sleepyhead department, towered over a student adorning a Savanaclaw uniform. The boy didn’t seem injured, at least not from where Kalim was standing. Whatever trick you had pulled, it must’ve been a smooth take down.

This had the housewarden immediately intrigued.

Without missing a beat, the boy happily skipped over to where you stood. The books held in his hands were in a vice grip, his excitement could barely be contained. Attending Night Raven sure did have it’s surprises, but he was abnormally eager to approach you himself.

The white haired boy excitedly exclaimed.“Whoa, how’d you do that?”

You spun around to face the stranger before you, then it hit you. Didn’t this guy look familiar? The garnet-red eyes, the white hair, and even the blindingly bright smile seemed recognizable. Oh, it was Kalim! Well, shit. This guy was notorious for having the determination of a lion working it’s damndest to catch it’s prey, there was no way you were getting out of this. The universe must hate you.

In a desperate attempt to escape the situation, you tried to brush him off. “Please excuse me.”

You began walking in the opposite direction, but this housewarden was not going to give up.

Kalim continued to wear his bright smile, running up next to you to match paces. “But, you were the only one around who could’ve done something like this.”

Incredulously, your eyes widened and you began to pick up the pace. “No, he was like that when I found him.”

Kalim put his hands together like a puppy asking for treats. “Please, tell me your secrets.”

His eyebrows then raised and a light bulb lit up above him. “I know, you can come to the banquet tonight and we’ll be able to talk all about it!”

Your feet stopped and you were sure your face held the most confused look one could hold. You couldn’t help but turn to face him. “What?”

Kalim bounced on the balls of his feet, eagerness radiating off of him. “You’re officially invited to the banquet tonight!”

You didn’t even know what to say to this.

And Kalim did not give you the time to answer. The boy gave you a grin and a quick wave. “I’ll see you later, banquet duty calls!”

“Wait-!”

Kalim didn’t give you time to speak before he was already running off towards the Hall of Mirrors, clearly in high spirits because of his new friend. Friend? You weren’t sure that the two of you had immediately reached that status, you mean, you had just met minutes ago. Though, an inkling feeling that he already thought of you as friends kept seeping into your mind.

It was pleasant. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to go to the banquet.

𝐉𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐋 𝐕𝐈𝐏𝐄𝐑

Jamil Viper, a calm and collected individual, never one to stand out too much, or cause trouble for others. Or at least, that’s how you knew him before this incident.

It had been a normal day, as normal as a day could be at Night Raven College, and you had your sights set on someone. Typically, you were a student that wouldn’t dare meddle or get in fights with anyone. But a certain second year Scarabia student just had to be a jerk to Ortho, the only person in NRC who’s kindness rivaled Kalim’s, and you were not about to let this guy get away with his crimes against your good friend.

So, you set up a time and a place. Of course, you were not going to use your fists against this guy. You simply wanted a productive conversation to be held, like mature teenagers should have. But, no. The man came at you full throttle, he clearly did not read the letter you gave him at all. Whatever now became of him was in self-defense, and before you knew it he was on the ground.

And Jamil Viper had witnessed it. Not just a sliver of the altercation, all of it.

There was a silent staring contest between the two of you, no one dared to utter a word. It was thick and quite frankly, an odd situation to find yourself in. Jamil has had his fair share of weird encounters, but at this point he did not care about that. This was the icing on the cake to his already long, arduous list of tasks he needed to complete for the day.

To put it simply, his patience was thin.

“He came at me first.” You quickly mumbled, already sensing the displeasure emanating from the vice housewarden.

Jamil sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself down. “I saw, don’t worry about it. I’ll handle it.”

Although you felt tired after having used your energy, you didn’t want to make him do it alone. It was not going to be an easy task to carry a boy over half his weight to the nurses office by himself. “You sure? I can at least come to the nurses office with you.”

Despite your willingness to help, Jamil declined. “That won’t be necessary, but thank you.”

He knelt down to the students place on the floor, grabbed his arm and wrapped it around his shoulder to take him to the nurses office. He didn’t say another word either, simply walked off.

You stood still for a moment, soaking in whatever the hell just happened. “See you around?” You muttered.

It was not until a few months later during your time training for the SDC that Jamil mentioned the incident regarding the Scarabia student again during a conversation over some snacks.

“I was trying to be discreet about the situation, it wasn’t like I asked to start a fight!” You argued.

Jamil frowned, crossing his arms. “You were not at all discreet about what you were doing, [Name]. Keep your voice lower if you’re going to go against school rules.”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, already reaching your hand into the bag to grab another chip. “I’ll definitely keep that mind next time I get into a fight.” You retorted, voice dripping with sarcasm.

That shit-eating grin Jamil loved to wear made it’s way to his face as he questioned you. “Oh, so there will be a next time?”

Your eyes immediately hardened into a glare. “I hate you.”

He scoffed, leaning back in his chair all while continuing to wear that smile of his. “Lovely to know that I’m now an accomplice in your ‘Journey for Justice.’”

𝐒𝐈𝐋𝐕𝐄𝐑

It was a beautiful sunny day when the incident occurred. Silver was enjoying a well deserved nap under a green, flourishing tree where the shade was just the perfect amount, not too hot and not too cold. There wasn’t a single person around to make a lot of noise either, just the sounds of the leaves rustling back and forth. The conditions were absolutely perfect.

That was until the peacefulness ended.

The Diasomnia student slowly opened his eyes, blinking a few times to adjust to the light. He then let out a yawn, using his hands to push himself up into a sitting position. Then, he saw it.

You, the prefect, regarded for your sleepiness and kindness, being aggressively screamed at by a student in a Heartslabyul uniform. It seemed that you weren’t in immediate danger, but the boy was getting more hostile by the minute. That much Silver could tell and he wasn’t going to allow someone to get hurt.

He began getting to his feet when something interesting occurred, and it happened in only a matter of seconds. Silver’s theory proved to be true, the Heartslabyul student became more hostile and attempted to throw a punch at your face. Instead, you expertly dodged it and quickly used your hands to hit specific points on his body, causing him to clatter to the ground, completely unconscious.

It was something Silver had never seen before and he was intrigued.

With a grunt, you lifted the unconscious boys arm over your shoulder, though it proved to be quite difficult. The whole situation made you angrily curse under your breath. “I hope you learned your lesson. Picking on underclass men is a low thing to do and you know it, especially when you’ve taken it too far. Riddle is not going to like this.”

Ah, so it was a noble act.

Regardless, Silver hastily made his way over to where you stood. He didn’t hesitate with his words either. “If you don‘t mind me asking, what tactic did you use to take down that student?”

Silver’s voice surprised you, he was always quiet in class and you had never really taken the time to pay attention to anything but your instructor. You truly didn’t know what to think, so you didn’t. You spoke without thinking. “Oh, that.”

Well, shit. No pretending like you weren’t involved anymore.

Upon seeing the look on your face, Silver awkwardly coughed. “Please excuse me for asking.”

You shook your head, the cat was already out of the bag. “It’s alright, there’s no hiding it now. You saw everything, didn’t you? What I used to take down this man was a form of martial arts called kyusho jitsu, it uses pressure points to take down an opponent.”

Silver’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “That’s very interesting. Would you mind telling me more?”

You grimaced, taking a glance down at the unconscious boy resting on your shoulder. “Sorry, maybe another time? I need to get this guy to the nurses office.”

Silver didn’t hesitate to move to the other side of the student, repeating the same action of lifting the boys arm around his shoulder. “I hope you don’t mind if I assist you.”

Giving him a thankful smile, you turned to face towards the hall leading east. “Thank you. I never got your name by the way, mine is [Name]. And yours?”

He returned the gesture with a small grin. “I’m Silver.”

“Pleased to officially meet you then, Silver.”

“Likewise.”

@𝐯𝐪𝐧𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐞𝐝 — ˚ ✦ . ˚. - please do not translate or plagiarize my works.

[magicmalcolm]

One of my local stores is selling mini Japanese Kit-Kats and I am SO HYPE RIGHT NAO.

[sinkuna]

୨୧ — The soft splashing of water and gentle scrapes of your nails against his scalp made Sukuna’s eyes grow heavy, lashes falling shut as you worked behind him. Your presence was… soothing, he admitted privately in his head- a word he’d never associated with anything before you.

"You’re quiet tonight," you murmur, your breath warm against his ear. The gentle curve of your stomach presses against his back, and he could feel his unborn child’s curse energy- what little he could feel promised that the brat was going to be strong.

He didn’t answer immediately, too lost in the feeling of your fingers threading through his hair. The king of curses, feared across lands, reduced to this- nearly purring under a pregnant woman’s gentle ministrations. The thought should have enraged him. Instead, he found himself leaning further back, his massive frame carefully controlled to avoid crushing you and that belly of yours.

Truth is, Sukuna couldn’t find the words to explain how your simple touch was undoing centuries of telling himself he couldn’t feel anything. How the sound of your humming as you focused on him made something in his chest constrict painfully… and how your swollen belly against his back filled him with a terrifying kind of joy and pride.

"Does it feel good at least?" You asked softly, working through a particularly stubborn tangle. The mouth on his stomach merely sighed in contentment.

"Mm," was all he could manage as he felt your smile against his shoulder, your lips brushing his skin in a whisper of a kiss.

Water droplets caught in his lashes as he opened his eyes partially, watching your shadow play across the room. Your fingers traced one of the black markings that adorned his body, and he tch’d at the fact he had to suppress a shudder.

"Suku-… Ryomen, tell me what troubles you, I can practically hear you thinking," your voice was barely above a whisper this time, your hands stilling on him, and for a moment, only the sound of dripping water filled the silence.

His multiple hands clenched into fists, "You're making me weak," he accused, "ruining me," he muttered.

Your hands moved to his shoulder, working a knot he hadn’t even realized was there, "m’not," you smiled, "I'm loving you. There's a difference."

Love... that dreaded word, and of course his child chose that moment to kick against your belly, as if agreeing with you. The little shit wasn’t even born yet and it was already picking sides.

"I should have killed you, spread your legs open and fucked your corpse," Sukuna sneered.

Sukuna could feel it, how that innocent smile of yours seared against his spine, followed by the melodious sound of laughter escaping your lips. Before you could think, the world shifted and you found yourself beneath his towering form, the waters surface fracturing into a thousand ripples around your bodies. His massive hand tapped your wrists above your head, another gripped your hip while the remaining two pressed where you womb was- where his child flourished, his hands trembling ever so slightly with the effort of gentle restraint.

He stared down at you, the water dripping from his hair leaving tracks along your face and neck, almost like blood from a fresh kill, but your eyes held no fear - only understanding. The mouth on his stomach hung open breathing heavily, "What have you done to me? I want to tear your heart out and rip your head off, but I also can't bear the thought of losing you, or that brat."

Slipping your arms around his neck, you smiled up at him, "Nothing you haven’t allowed."

"Watch your tongue, little lamb." The threat was hollow, and you both knew it. The kiss that followed was ever so desperate, sloppy and violent in its tenderness, but damn did it taste like the sweetest sin… Your response back- how you kissed him in return, your spit mingling with his, a soft moan on your tongue… It was better than any scream of terror he’d ever drawn from human lips. And he knew from that alone, you’d been right.

You hadn't done a thing he didn’t allow.

And for once, he didn't fight it.

Prt2.

[rapturously]

𝐬𝐮𝐟𝐟𝐞𝐫 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐨𝐥𝐟, 𝐜𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐞.

┊ count orlok x fem!reader.

✠⠀༷ ゜ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒: after uncovering an heirloom thought to be long-buried and forgotten to time, your flesh is joined as one with the enigmatic count.

read part one here.

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8.0K.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: heavy smut, willing consent, vampire antics (bloodplay, blood drinking, scent kink), extreme possessive & obsessive behavior, biting, scratching, making out, tearing clothing, unprotected p in v sex, loss of virginity, sex with a rotting vampire, cunnilingus, cockwarming, multiple orgasms, title kink (use of my lord), dracula references, a relationship based on lust/obsession/possession and not love.

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: writing this has given me joy about writing again & it’s a fantastic feeling! loved working on this fic! thank you to everyone who has shown such love and support for my work, this is why I write and it means a lot to me! I hope you guys enjoy!

𝐃𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐫𝐧 𝐬𝐢𝐥𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐭𝐨𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐚𝐰𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐬 𝐚𝐛𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭. 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰𝐬 𝐬𝐥𝐢𝐩𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐞𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐥𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐥𝐞𝐚��𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐦𝐭𝐡 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐧 𝐚𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐞.

Each night since he had first fed from you followed a similar pattern, lulled into a sensual subservience by his shadow, soothed by the allure of his voice. There was an innate lack of physicality that perplexed you, as if he were waiting for something else.

This enforced isolation by daylight allowed you to traverse the castle grounds, to explore the hallowed halls of this macabre mausoleum — you never felt truly alone. His presence stayed with you, a shadow haunting your steps.

Beneath the crunch of frozen undergrowth, you wandered. Within the shroud of the Carpathian Mountains, the fortress had seemed monumental, but in the flesh, it was smaller, a labyrinth of stone. It gave you ample time to admire the architecture and study his home.

The village became a mere afterthought, abandoned to the recesses of your mind, buried away, never to be uncovered. Your Lord was not physically present, more often than not, and you began to burn for his touch.

Phantom caresses and arduous visions could only sustain your craving for him for so long. He was not unkind, simply aloof and enigmatic, a being that seemed to give you everything you wanted, and nothing at all.

He had swathed you in clothing finer than you could ever imagine, fit for a noblewoman, lavished you in fine trappings and allowed you your own chambers. Even then, you wanted more — you wanted to be with him, beseech him to stay.

Wisps of warmth emerged from your lips as you stepped beneath an archway, the stone older than your predecessors. The grounds, still and eerie, retained a wealth of history, his ancestors still buried somewhere within the catacombs.

Orlok, you’d learned, was his ancestral surname, passed down through a noble lineage of a royal bloodline that far exceeded that of your own. He spoke nothing of his own beginnings, preferring to keep it all concealed within the dark.

For most of your life, you’d been taught to fear strigoi, tales of bloodsucking predators looming in the night, coming to snatch the innocent from their beds. You still felt some unusual uneasiness with your Lord, but it was humans you feared more than anything, those that tried to kill you.

Timeworn rags of your old life were left behind, scattered to the wind like a shattered memory. Whatever void was left within you, he filled — like a goblet overflowing with wine, leaving you satiated.

Within dust-laden corridors, you managed to find your way from the castle’s exterior grounds to a spacious hall, one that you had not yet seen. A singular door, tall and scaling, sat before you, the doorknob possessing the head of a gargoyle.

It was untoward for you to go prowling around within the Conta’s private dwellings, and yet, curiosity seemed to get the better of you.

Left unlatched, you gently pushed against the wrought-iron surface, chest lurching with a flurry of anxiousness as it groaned in protest. Sluggingly, it began to fall open, revealing a private study, wreathed in still-burning candlelight.

It was dark, lacking any windows or inklings of natural light. Scaling stone walls were lined in archaic paintings, several massive portraits gilded in frames of tarnished gold. Shadows danced along the bannister, uncertainty swelling within your stomach.

Each painting must’ve been familial, finely-crafted imagery of his ancestors. There was only one that seemed torn to shreds, almost nonexistent as you approached. The name was worn by time, difficult to read, Dacian muddied with the rotten gold of the frame.

The study seemed to have little use, chaotic and visually disorganized, with books and parchment strewn about, the fixtures dilapidated and old. An oaken desk remained scattered with various documents, but it was one item that had ensnared your attention.

A locket, the silver having faded to an ugly, distorted brown, all color and liveliness stripped away. It was inappropriate of you to pry like this, but some unforeseen force compelled you to take it, to open it and peer inside.

Trembling digits slipped around the ornate chain, finding the hinge of the trinket as you opened it. To your surprise, there was a small, painted portrait of a young woman — beautiful, in your eyes. Her attire was ripped from that of royalty, with delicate features and a regal, dignified posture.

Upon closer inspection, she resembled you to an uncanny degree, eyes beset by kindness.

A soft exhale of surprise tore past your lips, thumb tracing over the curve of the locket, brows furrowing together. This stranger’s likeness seemed to replicate yours, almost supernatural, and yet, you couldn’t be farther apart, separated by class and the insurmountable reach of time.

It hadn’t been disturbed for many ages, but the peculiarity of it did not seem to leave you, even as you placed it back down. Perhaps, he’d known of your presence all along, but it did not seem to fit the mystique of it all.

Departing from his study, you closed the door, greeted by the vibrant rays of sunset.

It became a tedious game of awaiting dusk’s arrival, watching as the sun began to slip beneath the mountains, orange rays turning to violet. With twilight encroaching, you knew he would soon awake, emerging from the shadows.

A sliver of your being felt compelled to ask about the locket, but you did not want to invoke his ire, if he were anguished over it. He had left it behind for a reason, buried beneath mountains of parchment, and there must’ve been a reason for it.

The forlorn dinner hall remained empty, save for the roaring hearth, brought to life by your Lord. As you entered through the massive set of wrought-iron doors, you caught a glimpse of his form, sitting closer to the fire.

Even from afar, your gaze was ensnared by the bundle of white, gossamer cloth he carried, the fabric reminiscent of your nightgown. Claws pinched at the material, twisting it between his fingertips as he brought it closer to his visage.

A strange spark stirred within your stomach, a familiar heat that seemed to ignite some crackling tension, allowing it to permeate the air. A hitch formed within your throat as you closed the door, the thump of it reverberating throughout the stone ceilings.

A hoarse rasp emerged from Orlok, an unsteady inhale as he absorbed the scent of your garments. In the time between, when he slumbered within his tomb, it was your smell he longed for, akin to that of some mortal addiction.

As you entered the hall, he withdrew your gown from his countenance, able to sense your beating heart, growing erratic in his presence. Black hues craned to peer over his shoulder, masked by the thick fur of his overcoat.

The bane of his being, his obsession, his lifeblood — during his days of arduous slumber, his thoughts crawled with you, of your amorous cries and keening body. There was a newfound ecstasy in the coming of dusk, when he could see you again — no vision placed within his mind’s eye.

He was not an oblivious creature, not impervious to your misadventures within his castle. Your scent lingered, permeating each corridor with a peculiar bouquet of warmth, one that only you possessed.

Your living presence breathed a certain exuberance into the veil of his shadow, where life was little more than a meaningless sentiment. His decay only seemed stilled by your heart, a precious thing, something that he deeply coveted.

It was in his nature to possess, to consume — he welcomed you into his tangled shroud, a dark haze that often invoked such fright. Your terror had subsided into carnality, a frenzied passion that he shared in, but had not yet acted upon.

Peering into your heart, the Count saw your wandering about within his study, mesmerized by paintings of his predecessors — and then, cradling a tarnished locket. A growl of agitation rippled through him, coupled with a rousing anger.

“Thou has traversed to places of grave importance,” The gravelly, thunderous lull of his cadence sent shivers of dread down your spine, born out of a gnawing anxiousness. He knew that you’d gone into his study, a place he considered to be private. “Why?”

A stab of lurching dread lunged for your stomach, sending a shiver throughout your body. It was foolish of you to believe that he wouldn’t suspect your prying, hands idly clutching at the fringe of your dress, an attempt at relieving tension.

Slick perspiration licked along the back of your neck as you faced his sharp accusation with a shrewd countenance. “I am sorry, my Lord, I did not intend to disturb your study.” It was a feeble attempt at mending the friction between the both of you.

“But you did,” A living reminder of terror — of his true nature, that of undeath and obliteration. Despite his innate obsession with you, he was still capable of wielding an icy wrath that made you tremble with trepidation. “I command thee to speak.”

A guttural growl erupts from his rotten diaphragm, a snarl that causes you to straighten, gooseflesh raking along your spine. He beseeches you to tell the truth of what you saw, something that your eyes were never intended to see.

“The locket,” A wisp of a murmur slips between your lips, tone softening in a valiant attempt to uncover the mystery of your ancient doppelgänger. “Who was she?” It was an innocuous inquiry, born from a naive heart.

Centuries without a thought of the past, only centered around you — you had brought an onslaught of lamenting with you. The Count did not answer, neglecting to shed any clarity on the woman who bore your own visage.

It was his own hubris that brought about his use of necromancy, thinking he could resurrect one that had long been dormant to the world. For such an action, his flesh was cursed in undeath, roaming the nocturnal world as a harbinger of pestilence, of one’s darkest desires.

“Of little importance.”

There was a fracture within you, a war that waged as you stood with bated breath, pondering his statement with perplexity. You did not believe him when he said this, digits curling into the rough embroidery of your gown.

“I do not believe you.” Lacking an ounce of defiance, your tone screamed of someone who yearned to know more of this shadow that haunted your every step. The Count’s displeasure was visible, countenance twisted into something of sheer anguish.

Within the space of a singular breath, he manifested before you, firelight draining from your surroundings until all that was left was pitch and silver. He was intimidating like this, leering over you like a dark statue, black hues swirling with an unbridled fury.

He was often indiscernible, a presence without any sentiment, and only you could taste them upon your tongue. Now, he seemed to bristle with an unsteady rage, cold breath fanning across your face, his scent one of the yawning grave and frostbitten flesh.

“You do not know what you speak,” His voice was like a poisonous thorn, a clap of thunder that rattled the castle’s foundations. The Count still cradled your nightgown in one hand, twisted in a fist between his claws. “It is a lament, nothing more.”

Clinging to a misbegotten past — within your marrow, you knew that it was a shadow of someone he once coveted, just as he possessed you now. Swallowing the growing lump within your throat, your gaze flickered to the bundle of pale fabric bunched within his grasp.

A flutter stirred within your heart, a skipped beat that elicited a soft gasp from your lips. His shadow blanketed you in his carnality, his obsession, his veneration — it sparked a fire within your belly, one that nearly seared your bones into ash.

Words died upon your tongue, stuck within the depths of your throat as you searched for a proper retort, and nothing emerged. A void of silence seemed to stop you in your tracks, allowing for a tumultuous tension to brew instead.

The Count lingered, hovering in above you, the tip of his nose brushing across your scalp. A gust of your scent invaded his senses, euphoric and overwhelming, a most wicked affliction.

“This lament shares my face,” Threads of a darker temptation began to pull at you, his allure unmistakable, like that of the great unknown. Your utterance gave him pause, body sharing in your space. “Why?”

He would have you in every lifetime, in every century — he would devour time if it meant that he could possess you. It was an ugly obsession, a vexation that you did not fully understand, this hunger that only you could satisfy.

A singular claw languidly danced across the exposed flesh of your neck, pulse pounding away beneath your jaw. It was a sensual touch, one reserved for lovers, a caress that seemed to make your knees tremble.

“𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐨𝐜𝐞𝐚𝐧𝐬 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐦𝐲 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.”

There was a weight to his confession that stole every shred of air from your lungs until you were left with nothing but a burning. An audible hitch formed within your chest, nerves set ablaze. A fire smoldered within your belly, one that demanded to be extinguished.

Crimson strings of fate, tethering you to him — perhaps, you were intended to be here all along.

Through black forests and silver blades, through snow-laden woodlands and the maddening cries of your once-kin, you had found him. His salvation was not in the form of some fantasy or fairytale, but through him alone, this carnivorous darkness — you were made for him.

With an unsteady exhale, you happened to feel your back lean against that of the hall’s grand door, the steely bite of icy iron sinking through your dress. It wasn’t the uncertain gait of fear, but of bewilderment — exhilaration.

To be coveted in a way that transcended the bonds of humanity, to anchor yourself to this being of carnage and lust — it was a sensation unlike any other. Your tongue felt like lead, heavy within your mouth as you attempted to conjure the right words, anything to convey your devotion.

It was unspoken, your need for him — he could smell it, oozing from your pores like sap from a tree, wafting from your being, the sweetest of scents. He cornered you, his impenetrable darkness corralling you against the door, and yet, you felt not an ounce of dread.

“This flesh is bound to thee, the object of all that I desire,” He rumbled, the lull of his cadence nearly bringing you to your knees, and the flame only grew tenfold. You had not known such reverence in your lifetime — and you knew that you never would again. “You are mine.”

Through bated breath, your heart heaved with ardor, body crawling with the lap of a lascivious heat that refused to cease. “I am yours.” It was a promise, made in the throes of your Lord’s possession, vocalized.

Without coherence, your hand blindly clamored forth, reaching for him in a way that you hadn’t before. Warm, silky digits found his chest, which expanded with each hoarse rasp, a low growl escaping him.

Your embrace evoked a dark, ravenous famine within him, one that threatened to devour you whole. He watched with a thinly-veiled rapture as you sank forth, hands finding his haggard form, clinging to him like a drowning woman.

Rough-hewn furs drifted beneath your fingertips, and at last, you felt him — as real as the dust-laden stone beneath your feet, no longer feeling like some ghostly omnipresence. Claws languidly dragged themselves against your crown, perusing through your tresses in one drawn-out caress.

The soft, pliant curve of your mouth enticed him so, the very essence of temptation, like the lull of a siren’s song from oceanic depths. He wanted you to invite him in, as one would invite a godly presence, let you crawl to him.

Black hues bored into you, indiscernible with an amalgamation of emotions, some hidden to you. A sharp exhale split through your ribs, one that shook with an encroaching exhilaration. Your gaze did not tear away out of fear, transfixed upon him.

“Kiss me,” It emerged as a whimper, a plea of such intense desperation. He had only ever appeared to you as a veiled shadow, never to feel the lively flush of your skin, or the pulsating of your heart within your throat. “Please.”

It was as if his breathing became unnaturally laborious, more than it had before, threaded with a desirous exhale. This act of physicality would inevitably lead to a point of no return, flesh bound as one in some grim eternity.

Your mind had never wavered — not once did you show an ounce of spite or a will to depart from his side, digits beginning to curl into his tunic. You hoped that your touch would beseech him to act, and yet, he remained eerily still.

“You know not what you desire.”

He wanted to hear your devotion firsthand, spilled from your throat, laid bare like a sinner’s shameful confession. A twinge of pathetic frustration began to burn your features, body pressing closer until your chest had brushed against him.

“I do, my Lord, I do — I beg of you,” Breathy, wanton pleas left you in myriads, gaze glistening with an unrestrained ardor. Whatever he wanted from you, he would have it — you belonged to him. At last, his rotting lips ghosted above yours. “Take me — all of me.”

Control seemed fleeting, and you danced along the knife’s edge of desire, hoping to let it plunge into you like a mortal wound. Those elongated claws brushed across your cheek, coming to cradle your jaw in a way that only a lover could.

A throaty sound erupted from your chest, wisps of air ripped from your diaphragm when his lips collided with yours. You had not tasted anything like him before — a decay sweeter than demise. Passion took root, followed by lust.

The prickled coarseness of his mustache scratched against your mouth, and yet it hadn’t felt so heavenly before. Elation rushed through you like the swell of a tempestuous tide, prompting you to mold yourself to his own frame.

A growl stirred within him, one that evoked his possession over you, his domineering will. He tasted life within your lips, the warmth of fire, burning away the forlorn chill of the grave.

It was as if your surroundings had melted away, reduced to an endless sea of darkness, with only him as your guide. A ravenous pull laced itself into his kiss as he pressed you further, a sharp nail tracing across your jugular.

“To your chambers.”

The sharp, gravelly rumble of his cadence tore at your thoughts, ensnaring your attention as you straightened. Pitch-colored hues glowered upon you as you peeled yourself from him, obeying his command as you returned to your quarters.

He had not followed, manifesting beside the window as you shut the door, wrought-iron groaning in protest, echoing throughout the halls. The penumbra of his oppressive shadow fell across you, tangling you within the visceral gnarl of his obsessive desire.

Moonlight pooled through the singular window of your room, liquid silver casting a ghostly light upon his towering physique. No longer aghast by his haggard features, a man reanimated, you inched closer, seeking him once more.

You yearned for his mouth, for his all-consuming kiss, stepping forward until you were merely breaths away, lacking any shred of nervousness. Had you not been fantasizing of this for some time, you might’ve been terrified — instead, you felt excitement.

“Reveal thine flesh, for it belongs to me.” He rasped, desiring to see you closely this time, unable to flee from his gaze. With each visit of his shadow upon you, left him unable to truly revel in your eternal beauty.

Gooseflesh raked across your spine, accompanied by an arousing flame that ignited within your belly, burning so intensely that it threatened to scorch you, too.

You had not experienced an exhilaration quite like this — as longed-for like dusk that yearned for the moon’s enchanting silver.

Trembling digits found the front ties of your dress, untangling them with insistent tugs before you turned, back facing him. A gathering of silken ties and string pieced it all together, and your hands attempted to make swift work of their hindrance.

The feather-light embrace of claws raked across your bare shoulder, roughened pads of his spindly digits absorbing the heat of your skin. A wisp of icy breath rasped from him, hoarse and labored along the nape of your neck.

A shiver of elation rolled across your spine, lips parted with bated breath as he loomed ever closer, towering over you. God, did you want him, needed him — needed him like air, a strangled gasp of desperation.

Gnarled talons bunched themselves within loosened threads, and with an inhuman display of strength, he ripped your dress. Dark hues seemed to flicker, swirling with such lust — he wanted to bite into your passion, let it consume him.

“My Lord.” A wanton mewl slipped past your lips, listening to the shred and rending of fabric as the Count tore it from your body. Tugging your arms from the puffy sleeves, your breasts were exposed to the chill of your chambers.

His dismembering of your garments continued, elongated fingers and talons prying it all away, unraveling you, revealing you to him. Those large, gnarled hands smoothed over the curve of your hips, pushing the dress down, down.

A guttural growl unfurled from within his chest, a sharp noise that rattled your bones with a needy thrill. His initial tenderness was entirely unexpected, silently admiring the unblemished plane of your flesh.

The sharp bridge of his nose slipped against your throat, lips pressing a vigorous kiss there, roughened tongue lapping over your saccharine skin. With a keening moan, you sank into his hold, bristling at the sensation of a hand encircling your breast.

Teeth grazed across the hollow between your throat and shoulder, temptation oozing from your pores before he bit. A ripple of pain spread from his bite, enough to taste the coppery pool of your blood.

It was not a harsh bite, not intended to feed — that would come last. His penchant for your cruor called to him like a hymnal, rough tongue dragging over the wound he’d made. Talons caressed your breast, kneading at the pliant mound.

One palm closed around your neck, caging you in against his frame as he greedily lapped at oozing droplets of crimson. You felt euphoric, eyes pleasantly half-lidded as you stepped from your dress, bare-skinned and willing.

His touch evoked an enraptured ardor from you, a need so overwhelming that it seemed to wash over your core. Arousal hung heavy within the pit of your stomach, molten heat that oozed like honey between your thighs, scent ambrosial to Orlok.

The cool metal of his signet pressed against your jugular, nails cupping your chin. As he withdrew his lips from the hollow, stained in a sheen of crimson, he continued his trail of kisses along the nape of your neck, rumbling with a low rasp.

Each ragged, raucous breath he drew was accompanied by an invasive gust of your musk, vetch and bellflower, native wildflowers found within the Carpathian Alps. It was intoxicating, and he inhaled once more, lips sealed to your shoulder.

At last, he permitted you to look upon him once more, noticing the doe-like sheen to your gaze, the unusual fondness you held for him. Your desire mirrored his own, softer in-nature, but just as vivacious.

Without hesitation, your hands silently clamored toward his gaunt visage, a mask of ghastly appeal, features sharp and haggard. You wondered what he might’ve looked like in life — comely and regal, handsome; a true pylon of nobility.

Warm palms cradled his face, pads of your fingertips wandering across his cheekbones, over patches of decay and rot, over tangles of scars that would never fade. He seemed enamored — obsessed in an unholy sense, drawing to you like a shadow to a pious moon.

“Without thee, this hunger remains eternal — without thee, I cannot be sated.” The thunderous purr of his raspy cadence sent shivers down your spine, body calling out to him. This lust he filled you with was one of sheer ecstasy.

A simpering gasp ripped through your diaphragm, bringing with it a wave of want. It was as if your entire being was tethered to him in some supernatural manner — two souls, once adrift — now, two bodies joined as one.

Words turned to ash upon your tongue, and yet you conveyed your sentiments through your lips, coaxing him in for another kiss. This entanglement was of a primal sort — impassioned mouths, teeth, a moan emerging from your throat.

His hand held your throat, claws sweeping beneath your chin, along your jaw as he reciprocated with his own famine. He was ravenous, kissing you with a yearning fervor that made your flesh scream with a pleasurable fire.

“I burn for you,” It was a mewl, a wanton utterance that made his bones sing. Orlok snarled, a possessive sound, one that seemed to savor your vocalized lust. “Please, do not stop.” You pleaded, seeking his rotten lips once more.

There was a crawl to your kisses, but a necessary one. He withdrew, enough to shed his overcoat, a mountain of fur and fine fabric, now discarded alongside your dress. A hitch formed within your throat, longing to see his flesh.

A nail traced across your lower lip, holding your face with a smoldering possessiveness. Your gaze did not falter from the Count’s, whose pitch-dark hues burned with lust. Tenderly, you kissed the pad of his thumb, able to hear the hitched rasp of his breath.

With a longing embrace, your digits fluttered to the front of his fur-lined tunic, weathered and worn by time, finding the column of embroidered buttons. He did not recoil or foil your movements, pressing slow, hungry kisses to your jaw.

As you sluggishly began the process of disrobing him, you caught glimpses of rotting flesh, grey and ashen, preserved in his current state. To lay with a strigoi often meant that you would be forever tainted by darkness — tainted, you would be.

In life, ages ago, the Count was imposing and well-muscled, much of it still preserved, beginning to succumb to the slow gnarl of decay. Each warm stroke of your fingertips brought him to heel, craving you in a most abhorrent manner.

The silken-and-cord wrap that held the elongated tunic together came next, working in gentle silence as you untethered it from his person. Talons continued to grope at your body, leaving behind faint scratches, some deeper than others.

No longer burdened by the weight of sin, you felt weightless — able to drown yourself within his veneration, his obsession. It was a dark and twisted thing, an ungodly sentiment, and you remained unfettered.

It was your mouth that beseeched him for another kiss, mouths entangling, rough and hungry. The stiff, coarse bristles of his mustache scratched against your silky skin with each kiss, a low moan stirring within your throat.

He tastes dreadful — of ash and brimstone, like damp earth pulled from a tomb, and yet, your lips urge him to continue. Crimson stains sharp indents of teeth in the hollow of your shoulder from where he bit, now bruised.

Pushing his tunic aside, you were exposed to taut, haggard arms, his complexion grave-like, rotting — his perfection was unparalleled, in your eyes. Your palms spread wide against his bare chest, as cold as ice-laden snow, able to feel each heave of his hoarse breath.

The warmth he draws from you is akin to bloodletting, sucking the rot from a festering wound. He savors it, a kiss of light that he shall never taste, your passion blanketing him like sun warmed rays.

Wordlessly, you pull away, bare feet dancing across the deteriorating rug covering cold, stone floors. You move onto the bed, gossamer sheets ruffled from use, the curtains seeming to flutter of their own accord.

Sinking into the feathered duvet, you await his presence with bated breath, and he moves like a liquid shadow. You do not recall seeing him shift onto the bed to join you, clothing entirely absent. His physicality is pointed, spindly, gaunt — your breath hitches with excitement.

Patches of sinewy rot blanket his flesh like blotches of colour upon a canvas — time was not a generous creature. A lonesome beast, awakened by the grace of the maiden, you. He crawled over you like a shadow, a growl reverberating within his throat.

Drawing your legs apart, his tall, taut frame slithers between your thighs, each ragged breath one of obsession. His putrid musculature covers you, hand coming to cup your chin, elongated digits extending toward your crown.

Talons brush through your tresses, downy and soft, a stark juxtaposition to his wretched state. His gaze meets yours, evoking a subtle gasp from your mouth as you reach for him, palms finding their purchase at the nape of his neck.

The protrusions of bone are felt beneath your fingertips, the icy temperature of his flesh. Exhilaration stings your lungs, liquid heat becoming a swirling tempest within the pit of your stomach. One palm cradles the back of his skull, inviting him in for a kiss.

A moan sears your throat, bubbling forth before his mouth devours yours — frighteningly hungry, hips beginning to still against yours. You feel the swell of his member press into your core, setting your nerves ablaze.

Teeth scrape across your lower lip, dangerously sharp, like the serrated edge of a blade. His kiss is like that of a tempestuous storm — dark, foreboding, consuming — you wade into his waters with a girlish giddiness.

Reciprocating his kiss, you feel his claws begin to dig, raking against your scalp as his obsessive nature rages like a gust of furious wind. Whatever fleeting prick of pain you feel, it pales in comparison to twined mouths and the lap of his tongue.

A leathery palm encircles your breast, covetously kneading at the pliant flesh, nail flicking over the sensitive peak of your nipple. A gasp tore from your chest, lips colliding with his with such desperation, reveling in his caress.

Before him, before pledging yourself to him, you had never been touched — any kisses you received were fleeting and lifeless, momentarily bliss that lacked want. It was obsession you craved, the repressed desire to be coveted.

Lips moved in an ecstatic dance, a fervent union of flesh and lust, a twisted reverence. Carnality bled into your ministrations, your mouth paling in comparison to the domineering force of his kiss.

In one swift breath, his lips peeled themselves from yours, only to greedily smooth over the column of your throat. He worshiped your flesh, listening to the erratic pounding of your heart, hastily galloping with encroaching excitement, a sensual thrill.

Down, down — in a sluggish descent, Orlok continued his wet string of kisses, a low rumble coagulating within his chest. Like coarse bristles of a comb, his mustache tickled your flesh, mouth finding the pliant curve of your breast.

A myriad of whimpers escaped you, hands continuing to cradle his head, thumbs caressing along the nape of his neck. His noises were sounds of satisfaction, savoring the lively smolder of your skin as you stroked him.

Vigorous kisses planted themselves across your breasts, your sternum, above your heart — he did not bite, not yet. He was agonizingly slow, drawing out your pleasurable torment, causing you to writhe beneath him.

“My Lord,” You mewled, palms drifting towards your sides, fisting at the sheets as he slithered downward. A violent warmth stirred between your thighs, now slick with arousal. “Please, please …” Delicate pleas tapered off into whispers.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐛𝐞 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐟𝐢𝐥𝐥𝐞𝐝, 𝐦𝐲 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧.

It was his voice, so crystalline within the recesses of your mind — your body trembled, awaiting the inevitable wave of bliss. He offered his lust freely, like that of a shadowed plague that swept across you, gnawing away at your bones.

He inhaled — a hoarse, horrible sound that expanded throughout his diaphragm. The feminine scent that had mounted between your legs was nearly as tempting as that of blood, saliva beginning to pool within his maw.

With a lingering kiss pressed to the angular curves of your hipbone, the Count growled, mouth dipping further, until he reached the heat of your core. Claws raked across your thigh, pressing down into your supple flesh, leaving behind the marks of his possessiveness.

His tongue raked hot embers over your cunt, wet and ravenous as he began to lap at your core. Your noises emerged, unrestrained moans that tapered off into wanton whimpers. It was unexpected, his actions, yet not unwelcome.

Talons searched for your hand, dainty and delicate within his massive palm, fingers intertwining with your own. You used this as an anchor, heels digging into the bed beneath you as he greedily lapped at your aching slit.

Legs twitched and quivered from exhilaration, gooseflesh taking up residence along your spine. A wash of icy air fluttered across your stomach, over your breasts, nipples beginning to pebble with the sudden draft.

Sloppy, damp sounds resonate from below, the noises of a greedy, covetous creature whose hunger knows no bounds. His tongue possesses a mind of its own, dragging over your cunt in desirous strokes that leave you wanting more.

Fire unfurls from within you, a lustful burn that seeks to sear the both of you. It only grows in intensity with each flick of his tongue, snaking across your cunt as he savors your taste.

Joined hands rest atop your hip, his digits splayed over your lower stomach, claws occasionally piercing your flesh. No longer a stranger to the blissful pain he brings you, a moan leaves you, one that vocalizes the depths of your enjoyment.

“More,” You croak, back arching from the feathery surface beneath you, as if pulled into his darkness by some invisible force. He can taste your want upon your flesh, yearning oozing from your pores like sap from ancient bark. “More.”

The soft, desperate crooning lulls the Count into sating you, mouth greedily exploring your cunt, dipping into each crevice. It is then that his tongue laps over the pearl of your slit, causing a spasmodic tremor to pulse through your body.

A raspy, guttural growl shakes his throat, seeking the pearl of your cunt once more, dragging his tongue over it. You squirm, prompting him to continue, delivering long, wet strokes of his tongue to that sensitive clutch of nerves.

A crescendo of moans escape you in droves, your ecstasy vocalized to the black nothingness of your chambers. The curtains flutter, with bluish moonlight pooling in, its silvery glow tarnished by wisps of dark cloud, dancing across your body.

The Count continues to devour your cunt with his greedy laps and light graze of his teeth, hand snaking down to hold your thigh aloft. A tendril of drool drips from his lower lip, slavering as a wild animal would over their prey.

His tongue leaves you, shaking and forlornly, head angled towards the supple, velvety flesh of your inner thigh. With a sickening, wet sound, he bites into the skin, breaking it with ease as his mouth is filled with your tantalizing cruor.

A hapless mewl leaves you then, and from his wound, you feel a startling wave of ecstasy. Pain becomes pleasure, bliss — your hands are left to claw at the sheets, bringing the fabric into the confines of your tightly-wound fists.

Dexterous fingers seek to stimulate you even still, circling around your clit with a peculiar expertise. The muscle in your forearm flexes from use, tugging at the sheets with desperation. As he laps at your blood, your hips jolt into his palm.

He sups of your blood, tonguing over the freshly-made indent, still oozing with crimson. With a lap of his mouth, he moves to the pearl of your cunt once more, thin maw wrapping around it, stimulating you with his suckling.

Slurred cries of ecstasy slip past your lips, back arched, keening into any sliver of friction he offers. The air is stale, the scent of copper and decay fresh upon the wind, invading your senses like some noxious plague.

There is a primal messiness to his devourance, chin steeped in your blood, mouth latched to your cunt as he evokes bliss from you. A rush of white-hot delight sears your bones, blanketing you in a wave of pleasure, stomach swirling with a violent heat.

He brings you to your peak, claws digging into your hips, caging you in against his mouth. It is his unorthodox appetite that entices you so, an amalgamation of crimson ichor and your arousal, tongue sluggishly raking over your core once more.

Pitch-dark hues rove across your body, drinking you in, bewitched by your devotion. With a sluggish crawl, he begins to make his way along your form, mouth scraping across your flesh as he ascends, seeking to join you together.

The aftermath of your release lingers heavily between your legs, matted with your nectar and remnants of blood. A low snarl erupts from his throat, welcomed by the sensation of your silken digits cradling him once more.

It is he who kisses you — rough, unyielding, the piquancy of darkness. He ensures that you savor it all, the concoction of blood, your nectar, his unwavering veneration stinging your mouth.

Instead of repulsion, you were elated, clamoring to reciprocate his devouring kiss with one of your own. Your hand cups the back of his rotting skull, the other caressing around the nape of his neck. A wheezing inhale leaves him, as if he is attempting to swallow down your beguiling scent.

The incessant swell of his member nudges against your core, causing a shiver to roll down your spine. Talons rake along your flesh, scratching you like a hot-iron brand, his mark emblazoned upon your soul. He gropes at your breast, nails beneath your chin.

Each heated, consuming kiss leaves you struggling for air, each gasp one of desperation as you draw him closer. The closeness between you is one of a strange intimacy, his garish form bared to only you, a creature of gaunt bone and grey flesh.

Take me, take me, take me — your voice screams within your mind, like some incantation that you become transfixed by. Your Lord hears your cries, teeth drawing forth a drop of blood from your lower lip, skin breaking apart to reveal a pearl of crimson.

Without hesitation, his tongue drags across your mouth, taking with it your blood, setting fire to his lust. His spindly frame is enough to keep your legs apart, hips urging themselves against your own as his cock pushes into you.

The sudden intrusion makes you moan, foreign and unfamiliar, yet terrifyingly wonderful. His ragged breathing seems to hitch, his member taking root within your cunt as he sluggishly rolls against you. The pace he sets is somewhat erratic and rough, made to rut.

It had been many torturous centuries since he had last lain with a woman, the one who bore your countenance. The Count did not think of her now, focused upon you, this enchantress.

Some omnipresent force bids you to search for his gaze, black hues ensnaring you, visceral pits of carnality as his hips cascade into yours. Your body is flush against him, breasts heaving with delighted cries as you cling onto him like a drowning woman.

Friction dances between conjoined bodies, igniting your flesh with a feverish pitch as you feel his mouth clamor for yours once more. Unabashedly, you kiss him, tongue reaching into the cavern of his mouth, able to hear the soft wheeze from his throat.

Each prolonged snap of his hips send you reeling, cunt clenching around his cock, as if you are coaxing him deeper inside of you. He is sheathed like a blade within a scabbard, claws groping, scratching, reaching within you.

A brief ripple of pain wafts from your kiss-swollen lips, puffy from the bite he delivered. As tongues perform a desperate ballet, you hear him growl, a half-groan that coagulates within his maw, expressing his satisfaction.

Miraculously, your body bears the oppressive weight of his obsession with ease, blood slowly oozing from bites pressed into your hollow and thigh, marked by garish talons. Some have broken the skin, and yet your ardor for him remains entirely unvanquished.

The needy rut of his hips brush against your pelvis, cunt stretched around the swell of his cock. With another drag of thrusts, his possessive kisses come to a crawl, filling you with a twinge of disappointment. You miss the gravely chill of his mouth as he makes his descent.

He seeks your chest, a surge of sanguine ichor pumping throughout your veins, beside your breast. The Count does not intend to drain you, merely keeping himself satiated until the next dusk.

The rough pad of his tongue smooths over your jaw, planting a string of covetous kisses along your neck. Spindly, narrow digits press beneath your chin, holding your throat with a light pressure, claws extending toward your splayed tresses.

The notched bridge of his nose brushes along your jugular, teeth lingering beside your delicate flesh. You remind him of fine velvet, perfection beneath his hold, a plane of softness, all belonging to him. Invidious is he, seething with a yearning that only you can satisfy.

Still, he continues, his path of darkness one that leaves you wrought with exhilaration, continuing to rut your hips into his. The vigorous ministrations of his thrusts seem to momentarily pause, cock still inside of you, filling you in a way that only he can.

A pleading moan flutters from your lips, palms rooted to his ashen flesh, pillowing his rotting skull as he kisses along your body. Your back begins to arch, an incessant release mounting within you, arousal warm and slick between your thighs.

Honed, wet fangs seek the warm cavern between your breasts, sternum rising and falling with excitable sighs. A low, wanting snarl reaches your ears as Orlok bites into your chest, beside your left breast.

The damp crunch of teeth rending through flesh echoes throughout your chambers, accompanied by greedy, putrid gulps as he sups your blood. Pain blossoms throughout your breast, unfurling like the petals of a wilting flower.

There is an understanding of his appetite — you know that he would not bring about your demise, even if he willed it to be. The sudden swirling of your cruor within his maw seems to invigorate him, hips urging to life as his cock drives deep within you.

A whimpered gasp rips through your diaphragm, body reacting viscerally to the sudden drive of his being. Again, his pace is erratic, driven by lust and primal instinct above all else.

Wandering digits caress the nape of his neck, fingertips nearing the base of his skull, your other palm splayed out between his shoulders. You cradle him against you, feeling the arch of his physique as he ruts into you, pounding away at your cunt.

𝐓𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐰𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞, 𝐦𝐲 𝐯𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. 𝐆𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟 — 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐜𝐮𝐦𝐛 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞.

The hoarse baritone of his thunderous cadence invades your mind, making your thighs twitch, legs involuntarily squeezing near his pointed waist. Your cunt clenches once more, evoking a growl from within his chest as he drinks.

His head lifts, chin stained with crimson, teeth hidden behind his mustache. Pitch-dark hues rove across your pleasured countenance, finding you to be enchanting, beauteous.

Warm palms dance along his frame, causing him to hiss, a low, delighted sound that instills him with desire. The bite embedded within your chest oozes with crimson, crescent teeth indents likely to scar. He laps at your blood, feeling you shiver beneath him.

Nearing your peak, you writhe, clutching onto him, begging for more through strained whimpers. The Count does not cease, sluggish thrusts of his hips forcing his cock deeper, deeper — until there is nowhere else to go.

Reaching for one of your hands, he pins it out to your side, claws dragging across the feeble flesh of your wrist, coming to interlock your fingers together. It is a gesture that makes your bones burn, flesh searing with such fervent desire.

His hands dwarf yours in size, locking your arm into place, your other palm left to cradle his head. Warm, vermillion ichor oozes onto your chest, rivulets of blood trickling over your breasts.

Without hesitation, he openly rakes his tongue over the trails of crimson, seeking your sanguine cruor, cock urging into you with a sense of finality. It is then that his attention is drawn to your lips, swollen and agape, deliciously tantalizing.

Mouths join together through the ecstasy of your shared release, hips beginning to stutter as you rocked against him. His cock drove deeper still, driving into your cunt as you reached your climax. It was relief he felt, the sensation of fullness.

Upon his lips, you taste the coppery sting of your own blood, accompanied with his own stale breath, the coarse prickling of his mustache. You cry out into him, feeling him swallow your moans, eating your pleasured sounds.

Squeezing at his hand, he seems unfettered by your grasp, nails digging into his ashen flesh, body rolling into him once more before you begin to settle. The aftermath of your release is a dizzying one, white-hot haze blurring your senses.

A low purr reverberates from his diaphragm — a drawn-out sound that blankets you in a strange sense of comfort. He stills, mouth receding from your own, ogling the remnants of cruor left behind from your heated kiss.

“You are mine.”

Dacian is known to you, a captivating language that only sounds mysterious and dark from his tongue. You sink into the mattress, able to feel his cock inside of you, ministrations having ceased, and yet he remains.

You welcome it, digits stroking from the base of his skull to his sharp, defined features, like warm kisses peppering his icy flesh. Exhaustion floods through you like the crash of an ocean wave upon the rock, and you recline completely.

He does not move from you, blanketed across your body in a possessive way, head coming to rest entirely against your collarbone. It is your saccharine breath he feels wafting across his visage, like the first inkling of springtime.

Joined hands rest beside your head, and you feel elated — a joy not felt before in your melancholy lifetime. His monstrous frame does not detract, and in the silvery pools of moonlight, he seems more picturesque than ghastly.

“I am yours,” Through a tender whisper, your eyelids grow heavy with encroaching sleep, tired from what proved to be a lengthy entanglement. He had supped enough of your blood this night. “Forever yours, I will remain.”

As you drift away into a blissful slumber, your paramour remains, claws perusing through your tresses, allowing such twisted obsession to eat him alive. You sate him in a way that no other has done before — whole, fulfilled.

By the time the first light of dawn creeps over the line of the Carpathian Mountains, he is gone — but the stains of his teeth are not.

With contentment, you know that dusk shall come again, and you will be sated once more.

[bratbby333]

i will possess your heart – satoru gojo

-this story contains very heavy nsfw content! please read at your own discretion!-

𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 content warnings dead dove fic- heavy stalking, violent obsession, manipulation, forced voyeurism, forced exhibition, drugging, mentions of blood, knives, use of restraints, plot twist, extreme dub-con 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 synopsis for as cocky as Satoru is, it’s oddly fitting. in his mind, everything belongs to him, including you. 𓆩ᥫ᭡𓆪 word count 8k

Satoru fumbled with a tripod as he positioned his camera onto the stand and proceeded to hit record. He was thorough, making sure his chair was perfectly centered before he sat down, staring at himself in the viewfinder while he fussed with his hair, inhaling deeply. A wide grin cut across his face before dropping back into lackluster neutrality. He looked down at his lap, his fingers ran up and down his denim-clad thighs. He snapped back onto the camera blank-faced before a deranged smile pulled at his cheeks.

Click

January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point. I’m plagued by the shadows, my entire life enshrouded in darkness. I don’t remember what things were like before. Day by day, it’s all the same. I cannot escape it—this anchoring feeling of despair. The emptiness eats away at me. I’m in search of release…of some sort of freedom from this pain. I need to fill my life with meaning, to find purpose in this accursed world…I think I’ll go out for coffee today. People watching brings me so much joy. They seem to live much happier lives than me.

Click

January 16th, 6:38 PM

My daydreams must’ve blended into reality because there was no way I created someone as beautiful as she was outside my imagination. I’m certain of it. She was sitting at the bar of the cafe down the street from my apartment, dressed in business casual—she probably works nearby. How kismet. The coffee was bland, as were most things in my life, but she awoke something in me. I hope I see her again. She somehow managed to clear the cobwebs around my heart. I think my life has finally found purpose. She is my driving force. I wonder what her name is.

Click

January 19th, 6:11 AM

Feeling well-rested today. Four hours of sleep is my new record. I plan to go to the coffee shop again. Back to the place where my eyes were first blessed with the mirage of her…where I first fell in love. I hope she’s there. People are so fun to observe when they don’t think they’re being watched…it’s simple psychology. The Hawthorne Effect. When humans notice they are under observation, they change. So inauthentic. But her? She never notices. She sits so obliviously, allowing me to take her in with ease. So good to me. She’s a breath of fresh air. I hope to work up the courage to speak to her soon. My heart soars at the mere thought of being in her presence once again. It’s so refreshing to feel something after all this time. I’ve been numb for so long, but she has set my heart on fire. She is everything to me, my sole purpose for existence.

Click

January 19th, 8:27 PM

I saw her again today. She didn’t see me. Just how I like it. She typed away on her computer like normal…she’s a hard worker, it seems. Driven and strong. And here I was thinking such beauty was a thing of legend. It's refreshing to have been proved wrong–that rarely happens. Oh, how I crave her. I know she’d make me feel whole again. She can save me from all this, I can feel it. 

Click

January 23rd, 5:13 AM

Only two hours of sleep tonight. But, for some reason, I feel better than ever… I normally do when I find a reason for living, again. It’s her…it must be because of her. She keeps me going; my muse, my inspiration. She’s worked wonders on me already and she doesn’t even know it, yet. I’m going to the cafe again today, I cannot wait to see her. Maybe today I will finally speak to her.

Click

January 23rd, 9:53 PM

She never showed up today…I wonder what’s going on. Maybe she had other things to do. It’s fine, really. I’m annoyed, honestly. I waited around all day. I’ll keep checking until I see her again. 

Click

January 28th, 7:06 PM

My sweet girl has gone missing. I haven’t seen her in quite some time now. This is just ridiculous. The woman I love…is she avoiding me? No, no that cannot be. 

Click

February 2nd, 8:31 AM

I haven’t slept well in days. I’ve been awake for twenty six hours now…my mind feels like it’s filled with static and yet, I feel sharper than ever. I’ve gone to the cafe every day. Still no sign of her. I’m slipping back into my old ways, the darkness is going to return any moment. I’ve begun to hear the laughter in the shadows again. They’re making fun of me, I just know it. I need her…oh, I need her so bad. How could she do this to me? Does she not know how much I suffer when she’s not around? If I don’t see her again soon, I will never recover.

Click

February 5th, 6:21 PM

I finally saw her again today. My heartrate spiked and I nearly leaped from my seat to kiss her, to hold her, sway her side to side in a deep hug. Instead, I slipped a tracker into her purse as I walked by her chair. I must know where she works, where she lives, and what she enjoys in her free time. She slipped away from me so easily…can’t let that happen again. I need to know every little thing about her. She is my one and only after all. It would be ridiculous to love someone so deeply and know nothing about them. She is too beautiful, I cannot let her wander around unsupervised. There are some crazy people out there—you never know what could happen. I can’t lose her. I must keep her safe. I will possess her heart. No one else can have her but me. 

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru observed her for months, shadowing her all around town. He knew the woman’s routine like the back of his hand, before he ever learned her name. Sunday’s she went grocery shopping, Monday after work was her pilates class, every couple of Thursday’s she was at the nail salon, and Friday’s were seemingly payday–he picked up on her pattern of going out to nice restaurants every other week. Satoru eventually got an upper-level management position at a company that shared the office building with her job–he is incredibly intelligent and overqualified, after all; they would be foolish to not hire him. Now he could really keep an eye on her.

That was when he finally learned her name–the two of them taking the same elevator. She didn’t recognize him as the man who seemingly had the same routine as her–it’s one of the many reasons why Satoru loved her so much: her naivety. She looked into his eyes for the first time that day, her voice was soft and angelic, and the name that fell from her lips sent waves through Satoru’s body, the same name that would now be coupled with his gasping moans every evening as he stroked himself to the thought of her. 

With Satoru’s new job that brought him one step closer to her, he knew he could no longer watch her in the way he used to. His movements had to be more calculated, putting more distance between them than he normally would or hiding behind the deep tint of his car windows. If she saw his face too frequently, she surely would have caught on. Satoru smiled at the possibility of her never catching on…how she’d greet him with a smile and a friendly hug each time they “coincidentally” bumped into one another, giggling about their lives' odd synchronicities. Such a sweet girl. If only she knew.

He stopped into her job, a small gift bag hanging off his slender fingers, desperate to watch her eyes light up with the sweet gesture of an unexpected gift. He asked to see her, only to be informed by the receptionist that she had the day off.

It was no worry, he didn’t let that dull his excitement. “I’m a friend of hers, brought this in to surprise her. Do you mind showing me to her desk, I’ll just leave it there for her when she returns to work,” he said kindly. The lady working the front desk blushed under his piercing gaze and handsome features, nodding shyly and walking him to his lover’s designated area. 

Satoru thanked her, stepping into the cubicle to place his gift by her computer. His eyes glazed over her workspace. It was decorated with trinkets and family photos. He picked one up, his thumb tracing over her face. His pretty girl. That smile could bring about world peace; it definitely quieted the angered voices in his head. He scanned her desk, a moment of envy shooting through him at the thought of her dainty fingers dancing over the keyboard rather than tangling in his hair. He groaned internally, looking over his shoulder to ensure no one was around, before ducking down, rummaging through his beloved’s drawers. Stowed away in the bottom of the unit was a fuzzy, white cardigan. He brought the fabric to his nose, inhaling deeply, stifling the filthy moan that nearly echoed through the cubicle. He quickly tucked it into his jacket, took one last look around, and headed toward the exit. 

In the safety of his vehicle, Satoru whipped the clothing out from under his wing, bringing it to his face once more. He undid his belt buckle with haste, shoving his dress slacks halfway down his thighs before his large fist swaddled his cock with the fuzzy white cardigan. He nearly sobbed at the contact, the smell of his car filling with her beautifully floral perfume. He brought the free edge up to his nose, taking another whiff as his hand worked furiously against his shaft. He had never finished so quickly in his life, staggered whimpers and choked moans fell from his parted lips as fat ropes shot up onto his abs and chest. His cheeks were flustered a violent red as he wiped his sticky shame away with her top. After he came, then did his clarity, and Satoru’s body ached with the thought of how good it would feel to finally be sheathed within her sticky walls, rather than her soft clothing. I’ll be with you soon. Soon, my love. 

These feelings were getting unbearable. His overactive brain had him teetering on the edge of insanity. He needed more. His imagination was no longer enough to satiate the hunger that gnawed so deeply in his core, the distanced watching and hopeless longing for the love of his life created jagged rifts in his already damaged psyche. He didn’t know how much more of this he could take. A few deep breaths and the promise he made to himself to take action soon quelled his burning desire. But for how much longer could Satoru repress the demon that clawed through his body?

Satoru surveyed her while she ran to the bank, walked her dog, or took her car to the wash. But his most favorite place to watch her was from the bench just outside her bedroom window, engulfed in darkness. Pretty girl lived on the second floor, her silly little brain assumed she didn’t need curtains. She never saw him, but he always saw her. All of her. Drinking in the way her clothes were delicately removed from her pretty little frame, the way she turned and posed in the mirror–so good to him. How her skin glistened after she got out of the shower, the water droplets running along her body in the same way Satoru wanted to. 

He fell into a state of bliss, feeling spoiled by the show he was getting tonight. The lotion that she worked into her body, the beautiful set of lingerie that she dawned. His eyes buzzed around his sockets, elation flooding through him. Gorgeous, gorgeous girl. But his body went rigid and his jaw locked tight at the appearance of another man behind the love of his life. He sat upright, shoulders stiff and heart pounding in his ears at the thought of his sweet being in danger, he cursed himself for not being more aware of her surroundings on her behalf. But when his darling girl turned to the unknown man with a smile, greeting him with a gentle kiss with the lips that were supposed to be just for Satoru, his heart shattered into a million pieces. 

Oh, no. This just won’t do, my love. You are mine. 

Jealousy coursed through his veins while he looked into her room, rage balled in his fists as he watched a random man have her in the one way Satoru couldn’t. Not yet, at least. He must’ve been new in her life, judging by the way his nervous hands explored every part of her skin. Satoru laughed at this–he knew he could please his woman so much better. But betrayal nipped at the back of his neck; how could she do this to him? Had his loyalty fallen on unappreciative shoulders? No, that couldn’t be. Satoru knew she was better than that, he picked her for a reason, after all. She was just playing hard to get. 

You rejected my advances and desperate pleas, and now you throw your relationship in my face. It’s punishment enough that I can’t have you, but I won't let you let me down so easily.

Feeling at a loss, swallowed whole by his hungered desperation, he did what any rational person would. He moved in next door.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Satoru Gojo was your next-door neighbor. He moved in only a few months after you did. You were elated, chalking it up to a lucky roll of the dice that you had met by chance at your job; he had started working for the company that shared the office park with yours. It really seemed like things were on the come-up for you. He was kind, confidently intuitive, funny, and supportive. Mildly egotistical, but it worked for him. He always invited you over for dinner and movie nights and was a strong, dependable shoulder for you to cry on. You had just moved to the city, feeling utterly lost and absolutely gutted about being so far from your support systems now, and he was your first friend. You felt safe knowing he was just a wall away. 

On a random Sunday, you opened your front door to see all the food you loved sitting at your doorstep–weird, you were just about to leave for the store. You turned your head, seeing Satoru peeking out from his cracked door, grinning at you. 

“Was this you, Satoru? You didn’t have to…this is incredibly thoughtful,” you beamed, stepping over the grocery bags to give him a tight hug. “You’re the best, I don’t know how I could ever repay you.” But Satoru did, he knew exactly what you could do for him.

When you needed a ride to work, he jumped in to save you. The two of you worked in the same building after all. It was a crazy coincidence that your new neighbor turned best friend worked just a few floors above you. It’s such a small world, isn’t it? But it worked out perfectly for the two of you. 

There was a month where you were short on rent, and there was Satoru, paying the rest on your behalf. 

You weren’t catching on. Sweet, naive girl. Oh, how he loved you. I need to work harder to get her attention.

Satoru was not a patient man, but for you, he would do anything and everything to get you right where he wanted you, expertly playing the long game. It began with the fated sighting of you sitting in a cafe, and snowballed into something bigger. At first, he only ever observed you, maybe the minor occasion of overstepping, but as time went on, he couldn’t sit idly by. It was time to make his move.

His disruptions in your life started inconspicuously. Leaving for a date? You found your car tires slashed and windows shattered in the parking deck. Now there’s a police investigation. Bummer…gotta cancel the date. Had a guy over? Satoru’s apartment flooded. Weird… that was the second time this month. 

“You gotta talk to the landlord about this, ‘Toru,” you sighed. He had to stay at yours that evening. 

You cried on his shoulder, telling him that some guy stood you up on a date you had been anticipating for weeks. There was an electrical fire in that man’s apartment that night. Must’ve been faulty wiring...or something.

His apartment flooded again. He was back at your door. You welcomed him with open arms, of course. He’s so good to you, the least you could do is help him out, as well. 

Satoru, you’re slipping. That’s too many times in one month. Ease up or she’ll catch on.

Friday night, in a wild happenstance, he bumped into you while you were out with another man, enjoying a nice dinner together. He smiled warmly at the two of you, before politely dismissing himself. His cheery smile dropped into a demented grin once he stepped out of the restaurant as he anonymously called in a bomb threat to the establishment. You were so shaken up at the entire ordeal you practically begged Satoru to stay with you that night. He’d be a fool to turn you down.

Satoru got everything he wanted. You were just a tough nut to crack, is all. No big deal. He loved a challenge. After all, how could you not love him by now?

But nothing was working. You couldn’t catch the hint, even with everything he threw at you. He was always the one there for you, even when you weren’t aware of it. What more could he do to prove that he was the only person you needed? I’m reliable, witty, and loving… how can she not see this? He finally snapped. The last straw? Hearing your pleasure-filled cries while getting fucked by another man, your “boyfriend”. The lewd sounds ricocheted around your room, shooting through the thin walls of your apartment and straight into his listening ears.

Tsk, tsk. Now you’ve done it. Always been such a tease. 

For as cocky as he was, it’s oddly fitting. In his mind, everything belonged to him, including you. And with that, his demented plan was in full effect. He had hoped to spare you, prayed that you would fall in love with him before he lost his composure completely. But your sweet, naive nature had proved to be a difficult wall to break down. 

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The sound of your front door’s lock disengaging echoed through the empty hallway. Satoru stepped in, inhaling deeply as he shoved your house key into his back pocket. It was far easier to gain access into your home than he had originally anticipated; he was fully prepared to break in, but all he had to do was tell your landlord you went out of town and you forgot to leave a key with him before you left. The manager of your apartment complex knew how close you and Satoru were, so it was an easy lie to tell. But it couldn’t have been further from the truth. You weren’t out of town, he wasn’t house sitting, and you had no intentions of having company this evening.

Seated at your desk, he opened your laptop and navigated his way to your iMessage settings, ensuring you could only send and receive texts from your laptop. Clicking on the messaging app, he stifled the gag that threatened to escape his throat as he clicked on the thread between you and your boyfriend, his contact name “my love” in your phone. He rolled his eyes, before drafting a quick text: 

-Hey, baby. I have a half-day at work today…dinner and wine at my place tonight? ;)

He grinned at the quickness of your boyfriend’s response.

-I would love that. What time, my love?

Satoru scoffed at the pet name. He doesn’t deserve to call you that. Poor bastard needed to learn his place. Heat rose in his chest, jealousy emanating through his skin as he crafted his response.

-3pm…Can’t wait to see you.

Everything was going according to plan. Satoru glanced at the clock beside him: 11:17 AM. It was time to get set up, he had a big day planned for you, and his first guest would be arriving in a few short hours. 

A knock rang through the apartment as Satoru finished lighting his final candle. He smiled wide, sauntering over to the door. He swung it open, grinning politely at your boyfriend. “...Hey, man…didn’t expect to see you here…” he said warily as Satoru stood to the side and gestured him in, a quizzical look painted on your partner’s face as he stepped through the doorway. The door shut and the lock was reengaged. “Where’s…” but before he could get his question out, his chin was met with Satoru’s right fist.

Satoru made quick work of dragging his body upstairs. He dug through the unconscious man’s pants, pulling out his cellphone. Satoru was disgusted to see that you were his lockscreen. This pitiful man wasn’t worthy enough to be with you. He rolled his eyes, unlocking the man’s phone and sending you a text: 

-Hey, beautiful. Come straight home tonight. I’m making dinner for us. See you when you get off work.

You smiled at the familiar ding of your phone, the notification effectively distracting you from your tedious paperwork. Your heart soared at the message, sighing deeply and shifting your weight around in your office chair. Your hand rubbed at your face in an attempt to hide your blushing cheeks. 

“What is it?” your coworker asked. 

“Oh, nothing. I thought my boyfriend forgot our anniversary cause I hadn’t heard from him all day…but he just texted me saying he’s at my place and is making dinner for us tonight.” A giddy smile couldn’t help but drag across your face. 

Satoru looked at the clock: 3:28 PM. You would be home in an hour or so. Just a few more things had to be done, everything had to be perfect.

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Your heart rate spiked as you got closer to your apartment door, keys jingling against your palm as you fumbled with the lock, excitement making your movements a bit clumsier than usual. You entered and kicked off your heels, and as you turned to toss your keys onto the small table in your foyer, you noticed a small card that said “Read Me” placed perfectly in the center of the tray. You were perplexed as your eyes scanned over the note. “Go to the living room” was all it said.

You blushed, a nervous smile pulling at the edge of your lips as you crept to the other room. Your eyes went wide at the sight; deep red roses were placed in the center of the coffee table and every accessible surface around the couch was adorned with beautifully flickering candles. Another note was on the table, your fingers fumbled with the edge of the card as you opened it: “Have a seat, take a sip, and press play.” You settled on the couch, noticing a glass of alluring red wine to the right of the roses. You took a few deep, fulfilling swigs of your drink before grabbing the TV remote. Your face twisted a bit, examining the glass in your hand, the flavor of wine different than the one you were used to. It was a special night after all, your thoughtful boyfriend must have wanted you to branch out this evening. Where is he, anyway? As you pressed play, you called out for him, only to be cut off by your own confusion as Satoru’s face appeared on your TV screen. You watched with perplexity as Satoru recentered his chair, smiled, relaxed his face, and then smiled again.

No…no, no, no. What is this? You were locked in place, the melodious sounds of Satoru’s voice cascaded out of your surround sound system. He looked different though, his eyes were dull and low, his voice monotonous–his alarming difference in demeanor sent a chill down your spine. Your groggy mind inferred that this must’ve been an accident. Maybe it was casted to the wrong TV. I shouldn’t be seeing this…these are Satoru’s video diaries. 

You so badly wanted to tear your eyes away from the screen, this seemed like such an invasion of privacy. But you were entranced, staring intently toward the TV, though you didn’t really have a choice, your body was completely numb now. 

“January 16th, 4:06 AM

I woke up drenched in the feeling of lethargy again—another night of only an hour’s worth of sleep. Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point…” you fought to keep your eyes open, to piece together what the hell was happening, until your body eventually succumbed to sleep.

When you finally came to, you were laid out on your bed, fully nude. Soft grunts lingered in the air as you worked your hardest to refocus your eyes, your head pounding. You shifted your weight onto your forearms, your neck straining as it felt like your brain was filled with lead, eyes searching your bedroom for the culprit of the moans. One glance to the left, a quick look to the right, before you stared straight ahead at the wall directly across from the bed. Your body lurched in fear as your heart sank, the source of the sounds now looking you dead in the eyes: The man you had been seeing for the past couple of months, gagged and tied to a chair, his bloodied face twisted up in agony. 

You tried to call out for him. Your feeble attempts to drag your heavy body closer in order to console him were interrupted as the room was suddenly illuminated with the streaming lights of a projector. Your movements halted as you shielded your eyes immediately, the bright interruption feeling like a flashbang to your sensitive head. 

“We didn’t get to finish my show and tell,” a voice spoke up from the dark corner. 

“Satoru?? Wha…what is going on?” you cried out, tears spilling from your eyes while your hands attempted to cover your modesty. You tried your hardest to sit upright, your head spinning, unsure if Satoru was the culprit or your savior. Your body felt like it was anchored to the floor, your head throbbing with every word that tore through your chest. 

“There’s no need for all that yelling, sweetheart,” Satoru grinned, crouching down next to you. You winced as his hand cupped the side of your face, his thumb brushing away the tears that trickled down your cheeks. 

Click

Metal cuffs clamped down on your wrists before you could even register what was happening. A million unanswered questions spun through the room as you frantically searched through his blue eyes, hoping to find any sort of insight into the torment he was inflicting upon the two of you. 

“This is what’s gonna happen, okay? I need you to listen to me.” His voice was sickeningly sweet, each syllable that left his lips more damning than the last as he dragged your limp body up the bed, securing your wrists to the headboard and angling your body toward the projected video on your wall. A crazed grin lit up his dull face as he raised his hand, pointing the remote toward the projector. “You’re gonna sit here and look all pretty f’me while you watch these tapes, and if you move, if you stop paying attention for even a second…” Your stomach churned at how gently he was able to give such vile instructions. He turned his attention towards your partner, the blade of a knife twirling through the slender fingers of his free hand, “...He’s dead. Understand, angel?” 

You nodded reluctantly, unable to do anything else but comply with his demands. Your head was spinning, trying to digest the fact that this was the same person who had paid your rent and entertained your rants after a hard day of work. You listened as his voice continued to drabble over the static of the projector, recalling how bland that day had been until he saw your face. How he must’ve dreamt of you because there was no way your beauty could exist outside of his imagination. To you, it had been a normal Tuesday afternoon. To him, it had been the start of the rest of his life. 

The longer you watched, the more the realization set in that the sweet gestures he presented to you were not out of the goodness of his heart, but from the darkness of his spirit, driven by his wanton lust. Your face was slack, eyes wide in horror. Disappointment crawled through your chest at your own naivety. How could I be so oblivious? So trusting? 

Satoru’s eyes bored into the side of your face as he sat beside you, his hands rubbing deep circles into your bare thighs, pure elation shooting through his veins at his sweet girl finally having a look into his mind. The look of terror that painted your beautiful face made his heart leap with joy. Satoru’s giddy demeanor dropped as pained grunts emerged from the tethered man against the wall. He stood, closing the distance between the two of them, his fist encircling your boyfriend’s throat. You began to protest, to plead with Satoru to leave him be, but the rage that filled his eyes made you shut your mouth. “Uh uh…eye’s on the screen, my love.” Your head snapped back toward the videos, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as the muffled wailing of your boyfriend filled the room. 

As the final video played, Satoru returned to your side, kneeling on the edge of the bed as he  stroked the back of your head and rubbed at your cheeks. “Can’t you see all that I’ve done for you?” He grabbed your face, digging his fingers deep into the space under your cheekbones, forcing your lips into a pucker. “You belong to me, my love.” A deep growl rumbled through his chest, “You look so fucking beautiful like this.” He leaned down and crashed his lips into yours, his hot tongue bullying its way through your tight lips. Small whines echoed through your mouth and into his, and Satoru greedily swallowed up your sounds with ease. Whimpers of protest came from the wall across from your bed, but they were quickly drowned out by the wet sounds of smacking lips and battling tongues.

He broke away, a thick trail of spit still connecting the two of you. Satoru released your cheeks with a gentle shove, throwing his leg over yours to straddle you. He dropped his head to your neck, his white hair brushing against your skin. You winced as he licked a thick line from your collarbone to your ear. “I finally get to have you,” he whispered, nipping at your flesh, “You ready to give yourself to me, princess?” Your eyes widened in horror, your gaze affixed towards your boyfriend, blood trickling from the fresh cuts on his cheeks. Your head shook side to side, tears brimming in your eyes once more as your thoughts raced through your mind, causing a traffic jam in your throat. “I…no, I can’t…he’s…” Satoru’s palm covered your mouth, a groan erupting from the back of his throat as his eyes rolled deep into his skull. He sat back, staring down at you, his free hand running its fingertips between your breasts. “This has nothing to do with him…It’s just me and you now, my love.” Your head snapped up to stare at your captor as the rough pads of his fingers brushed over your nipples. A stifled moan teased the back of your throat, an exasperated look of fear in your eyes as you stared up at Satoru.

Your cheeks flushed as you held his gaze. He grinned back down at you before rolling the hardened bud between his fingertips. Your chest arched toward him, a shameful hum dancing from your lips as he played with you. A deep laugh erupted from the blue-eyed man at your unintentional reaction, his head thrown back with pure joy as he continued to pull at your nipples. He leaned into your neck once more, his teeth grazing the outer shell of your ear. “I knew it,” he purred, “Knew you wanted me, too. You were just playing hard to get, isn’t that right?” You shook your head once more, your words constricted in your chest. “N-no…I never wanted you,” you retorted, head thrown to the side, attempting to distance yourself from him, but to no avail. The weight of him anchored your lower half to the mattress while your tethered wrists held you in place.

A deep chuckle rumbled through Satoru, “So if I feel your pussy, it won’t be absolutely soaked right now?” A pathetic whimper escaped your throat as you shook your head furiously. The rolling motion against your nipples halted and his hand trailed lower down your abdomen. “Hmm…let’s see then, shall we?” he taunted, tracing your skin before rubbing your folds and dipping into your core. “I knew it…you’re fucking drenched f’me, sweetheart.” He shoved two fingers in, shallowly teasing your hole before withdrawing, bringing his sopping digits between your faces, turning his wrist as the dim light of the room illuminated the wetness, making it glisten ever so slightly. He examined them before meeting your fearful gaze. “Why did you lie?” He sucked his middle digit into his mouth, his tongue lapping hungrily at your sweet juices as his eyes fluttered shut. A hum emanated from Satoru as his other soaked finger pushed past your lips, “Here, have a taste, pretty girl,” his long digit dancing around your tongue. “So fucking sweet. You have no idea how badly I’ve been craving this.” 

“I’ll ask you again, princess…Why’d you lie to me? I thought you were better than that,” he teased, an insincere pout twitching at his lips as he cradled your chin. Your body thrashed as his hands pawed down your body, plunging two fingers deep inside you again. Your back arched toward him, his knee between your legs was the only thing keeping you open for him. “I…It wasn’t..ahh!– I wasn’t lying…I–”. Your words fell on deaf ears as a wicked smile crept across Satoru’s face.

“Shhh…shhh my sweet girl, just lay back and enjoy,” he smirked as he crawled down your body, laying himself flat on the bed with his head nestled between your legs. Satoru’s body no longer shielded you from your boyfriend, your teary eyes darted across his face, a silent apology being sent his way. Small gasps escaped your lips as Satoru continued to pump into you, the tips of his curled fingers toying with your sweet spot. When you stared down at him, the look of pure desire peered back at you, the dampness between your legs skyrocketing at the sight. A scarlet dusting of shame brushed across your cheeks at your clear enjoyment of all this, even though it betrayed every natural instinct you had. His tongue darted out from between his lips, the tip circling your swollen clit as his fingers dipped in and out of you, his movements spurred on by his own desperation.

He was delirious, suckling against your clit while his fingers worked into you with fervor, moans and growls echoing through the room as he drank you in. You so badly wanted to break away, to console your boyfriend who had an unintentional front row seat to you falling apart on someone else’s tongue, but you couldn't bring yourself to stop him, his digits hitting spots inside you that you didn’t even know existed. Pleasure ripped through your body as a tightening sensation crept its way into your stomach. The rattling of your cuffs echoed through your bedroom as you fought against your restraints, desperately wanting to tangle your fingers in Satoru’s hair.

Your hips bucked toward his mouth, your body aching for release as your pelvis thrusted against his flattened tongue. You didn’t dare look away from Satoru, for you knew there was another set of eyes affixed upon the damning scene that was unfolding. He continued to hum and suck and pump into your core as you tightened around him, his slender fingers quickly coaxing your orgasm from your writhing body. Your eyes screwed shut as your gushy walls spasmed around his fingers, your release painting Satoru’s overly-eager face. He lapped at you some more, working you through your orgasm as he cleaned you up with his wickedly talented tongue. 

A deep growl broke through Satoru’s chest as he removed his head from between your legs, the back of his hand dragging across his chin, catching the last of your release before he licked you off of him. He sat upright, craning his neck to look over his shoulder, “Hope you were taking notes,” a smug grin on his face as he addressed your watching boyfriend. He redirected his attention to you. “Did so good f’me, angel. Dreamt of that for so long…” he grinned, his tongue darting out to trace along his lips, hoping there was still some of you coating his face “...I could do that all fuckin’ day.” 

Your shaking chest heaved as clarity settled into your mind. Satoru untethered your wrists from the headboard, shifting your body so that you were on your hands and knees, head positioned toward the wall your partner was leaning against. Strangled sounds rang from your boyfriend’s chest as you finally met his gaze. Humiliation prickling under your skin at the realization of what you had just done. But you had no time to dwell on it as Satoru repositioned himself on the bed.

“He’s gonna watch me destroy you, my sweet girl,” Satoru was kneeled behind you, lining himself up with your embarrassingly soaked entrance. He grasped your hips roughly, sinking into you in one fluid motion. You choked out a sob as you dropped your head in shame.

“You’re so pretty when you cry. He can’t help you…can’t save you. Go ‘head, keep cryin’ for him,” he cooed, his thrusts deep and slow inside of you. Jagged moans escaped your throat as the thick head of his cock brushed into your sweet spot. “He can’t make you feel as good as I do.”

He leaned down, reaching around to cradle your throat in his hand, squeezing tightly as he turned your head to the side, his sharp eyes running up and down your contorted face. “Can’t you see that you belong to me, how my poor heart aches for you? How badly I’ve needed you?” His thrusts were agonizingly slow but incredibly deep, the pressure in your tummy betraying your desire for this to stop. “That’s it, my love. Feel you clenching down on me…you’re getting off on this, aren’t ya?” His hips rocked deeper into you, the new depth had your hands clawing at the sheets of your bed as pleasure worked its way through your trembling body.

“He doesn’t treat you the way I do. He never will. No one is better for you than me, princess,” he seethes, his hand cupping your chin, holding your head up, “Now look in his eyes while I use you.” His pace picked up, pulling you back on to him with his anchored hand around your neck. A broken sob cut through your constricted throat as he fucked into you, the visceral sound of flesh smacking against flesh and whines and cries spun through the otherwise stiff air of your room. He palmed at the fat of your ass, pulling your body to meet his rough thrusts. A choked cry left your lips as you maintained eye contact with your boyfriend, crimson droplets running down his face, mimicking the pattern of your tears. You mouthed a silent “I’m sorry” to him before your eyes shut tightly, waves of sinful bliss pulsed through your body with every mean thrust of Satoru’s hips.

“Gettin’ so tight around me–f-fuuuck–you’re close, huh?” Your face contorted in shameful pleasure as you nodded, your back arching even more to take him deeper. “That’s it…c’mon, my love. Need you to cum on my cock,” Satoru begged, his voice airy as he got lost in your tight, sopping walls. “Show me how good I make you feel.” His words ricocheted around your head as the building pressure in your stomach finally snapped, your legs shaking violently as your orgasm ripped through your body, splattering onto Satoru’s thighs and the mattress below you. 

A few more strokes met your dripping center before Satoru bottomed out inside of you, thick ropes of his pearlescent seed painting your spasming walls. He finally released his tight grip around your throat, your head dropping immediately as indignity plagued your trembling frame. He pulled out, spreading your cheeks as he leaned down, an animalistic growl pulling from his chest as he watched his cum dribble out of your pussy. 

Satoru rubbed soothing circles into your lower back as you worked to regain your breath. “You’re mine,” he whispered. He unlatched the restraints from around your wrists, a coy smile tugging at the corners of his mouth at the purple bruises that marked your skin. He locked eyes with your boyfriend, a deranged smile dancing across his face as he reached for the discarded projector remote. 

Another familiar voice flooded through the speaker, but this time it wasn’t Satoru’s. “...We broke up a few weeks ago. No, no. Really, it’s okay. She was kind of a bitch anyway.” Your pupils widened as you stared back at the man you had just been feeling sorry for minutes ago, rage mixing into the vast sea of emotions you were already feeling while you watched a grainy video of him snaking his arm around another woman’s waist. The two of them were laughing outside of his house before she leaned in to kiss him. 

“My poor sweet girl.” Satoru’s hand brushed lightly against your cheeks, catching tears that you didn’t even realize had begun spilling out. “I didn’t want you to have to find out this way, but I didn’t have much of a choice, did I?”

There were a million other ways he could have broken the news to you, but that somehow wasn’t the most pressing issue at hand. 

“An eye for an eye, right?” The same haunting grin that you’d grown to know all too well spread across his face again, his blue eyes slicing into your ex-boyfriend’s. “I can’t believe that my entire world was in the hands of someone so undeserving…” he redirected his attention back to you and recaptured your cheeks in his hands. He leaned down to meet your gaze, unexpected softness replacing his usual sinister demeanor. “What do we do now, baby? It’s your call.”

Your pulse was ringing through your ears. “My call?” your voice was reduced to a whisper as you repeated it back to him. 

“I’m going to kill him either way, but I want you to tell me how.”

You pondered for a moment, still coming to terms with the chain of events that lead you to this one vengeful moment. 

Satoru stood, sauntering over to your boyfriend, stooping down to his level while his hands hovered over his gag. “When I take this off, I don’t want to hear anything other than remorse come from that pathetic fuckin’ mouth of yours.” Your boyfriend’s eyes shifted towards you, then back to Satoru, as he nodded pitifully. The tie was pulled from his mouth. His words were broken, barely audible. “I’m -” he choked out. “I’m sorry, I -”

Your stomach lurched as a sharp smack met his cheek, the painful sound resonating through the room. “You can do better than that. You got one more try,” Satoru spat, his eyes burning into your ex-lover’s bloodied face as he wrapped his fist around his throat, jostling his head around in a fit of rage. 

“Satoru,” you hardly recognized your tone let alone the thoughts that were racing through your head. The last few hours of your life had been a blur. The words you heard earlier made perfect sense now, “Nothing feels real when you hit a certain point.” You were officially at that point. “Satoru, don’t. Let’s just end this.”

It was the first time you’d ever seen the silver-haired man look surprised. His eyebrow raised, a mix of curiosity and amusement glinting in his eye. “Tell me how,” he repeated. “I need to hear you say it.” 

You were in a dream. Nothing more than a figment of Satoru’s imagination, just like he had said. It was the only thing that made sense to you because there was no way any of this was actually happening. 

“Rip his heart out,” your voice emotionless as you gazed toward the blue-eyed man. Satoru groaned deeply, his dick twitching at the sound of your pretty voice speaking his dark language. The same depraved grin pulled at the edge of his lips as he looked back at your ex. 

“Well,” he smirked, “looks like it’s decided then…” Adoration swam through his ocean eyes as he looked back at you, “I knew I picked the right one.”

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.

Click

The lock of your front door unbolted as your bodies pushed through the door frame, giggling as four glasses of wine danced through your systems. Satoru wrapped his arms around your waist, pulling you into a deep, passionate kiss. “Happy anniversary, my love,” he mumbled against your lips. His hands grasped yours as he led you toward the couch. 

You nestled into the warmth of his chest, his arm secured around you while you gazed around the room. Your head spun from the wine-induced nostalgia that this day had inevitably brought on. You were still in the same apartment, only it belonged to both of you now. A blend of sentimental gifts decorated your bookshelf that the two of you had collected over the last year. A camcorder, pressed red roses, framed vacation photos, and the first set of diamond earrings he’d bought you stowed away in a heart-shaped jewelry box. But out of all of the memories that tied you together, there was one that stood out the most. 

“Should we open it?” you whispered, drawing lazy circles into his shoulder.

You didn’t have to see his face to feel his smirk. He knew his girl and he knew her well. He stood wordlessly, retrieving a jar from the highest shelf. He presented it to you, a smug grin gracing his ethereal features, the same look that was permanently etched into your brain the night he got it for you. 

“Be my guest, princess.” You unscrewed the lid, peering into the jar as the strong scent of formaldehyde tickled your nose. You smiled longingly into the container, the overwhelming feeling of love reverberating through your chest. There was something so beautifully poetic about Satoru’s limerence, the lengths at which he went to steal the heart of another in order to fully possess yours. 

author note: im so sorry for not posting my sweets,, i had the worst case of writer's block and i was actively trying to work on six different WIPs...i was losing my mind.

this was quite the heavy fic to write...i hope i didn't scare anyone away with it lol

alsoooo!! sending out the biggest thank you to @remlionheart for forcing me to finish this...my editor, my co-writer, the love of my life ♡ ⋆｡˚

© bratbby333 on tumblr. all rights reserved. please do no distribute. 2024.

[velvetcrimsonkisses]

Blind Gojo adjusting to his new life…

The fight against Sukuna took a lot from everybody. With everyone making sacrifices, it was only right Satoru did too. He wanted to win, he was the strongest right? He had to win, no matter what. Losing the six eyes was just the mere cost of winning the battle. It was worth it right?

Satoru believed he didn’t deserve to live, but he had too now for everyone who died. Ultimately, deciding to now live his life as Satoru Gojo and not "the strongest” anymore. Losing the six eyes initially lead to frustration and anger, as he tried to adjust to being blind. He felt useless for a while, not being as efficient as he was. But over time, this loss lead to his personal growth. Gojo developed a deeper sense of humility and empathy for others, finally understanding the struggles of those who are not as gifted as he once was.

It wasn’t until he met you that he started to feel a sense of normalcy. And here he was at almost 30 learning how to live as a human for the first time. You taught him what true genuine love was and you patiently taught him how to reciprocate it back to you. He learned how to express his feelings to you instead of bottling them up inside. You created a safe space for him where he could unveil the true side of himself. Trust and intimacy forming between you two. Both of you navigating the complexities of loving each other.

He also didn’t know exactly what you looked like, not that he cared. His other senses were still in top shape and keen allies to him. That’s why his hands are always on you, he could feel you. Feeling the warmth of your body against his fingertips, large cold hands always coming to your face. He liked tracing your bone structure with the pads of his fingers, caressing your cheeks, and especially savoring your lips against his own. With each caress, he discovered new assets of your beauty, not defined by your visual appearance but by the sensations that awakened within him.

He could also smell your scent. He knows when you walk into a room when the sweetness of your perfume fills his nostrils, causing it to twitch like a bunny. He buries his nose into your hair because he loves the fresh fragrance of your shampoo. He loves when you bake him all his favorite sweets, the aroma of brown sugar lingering on you makes you smell even sweeter.

The sound of your voice. Satoru could never get tired of it. For once in his life, Satoru found himself not being the talkative one in a relationship. He cherished all the words that would leave your lips, each word a symphony to his ears. In the mornings Satoru would always lay in bed until you woke up waiting for the sound of your voice to be the first thing he heard each day.

All these aspects combined Satoru knew he was finally living the life he finally dreamed of. Every touch, every word, every moment was filling his deepest desires. In your presence, he found the reason why he deserved to live. He found peace and joy, a sense of completeness that he had long yearned for all in one person.

Even though he couldn't see anymore he felt things he didn’t before. He made up his mind that he didn't want to waste any more time. Satoru was now certain that his blindness didn’t stop his ability to love or to commit fully to you and he was more than grateful that you showed him that. It wasn’t long before you both decided to marry.

“She’s perfect…” you utter softly, handing the baby gently into an anxious Satoru’s arms. He cradles the baby just like you taught him, careful to not get too excited and accidentally hurt her. The baby babbles as she feels the comforting warmth of her father.

“The little sounds she makes are my favorite thing to hear,” he says, poking the baby’s cheek. “Describe her again to me, will you?” Satoru looks up from the baby, trying to decipher where you were.

You walk over to join him on the couch. “Of course, she has your beautiful blue eyes…” You noticed Satoru smiling, still holding his daughter close to him. “And your white hair…” you continue, Satoru’s finger coming up to her head, feeling the softness in her hair.

You describe every detail you could about the little baby to Satoru. You tell him about how her eyes seem to gaze into his soul full of love, and the way her tiny nose wrinkles when she sleeps just like his. A lone tear falls down Satoru's face, filled with heartache knowing that he will never be able to see her with his own eyes.

In that vulnerable moment, you hold Satoru close, letting him know that you were there. He smiles at you as he feels your touch, sniffling. There was determination in Satoru’s eyes. He was going to cherish every moment with his family.

"I'll be there for both of you," Satoru whispers, his voice filled with quiet resolve. His words carry a promise.

Thank you @suguwife for this lovely idea and the discord server as well!

[whorelaud]

reader thinks rafe cancelled their new year's plans, nearly melting upon discovering the surprise he prepared for her

Despite always spending the new year’s eve with your boyfriend, the latter decided it would be a good choice to abandon the plans you thoroughly thought through halfway into your ploy, leaving you cluelessly staring into the void, as you reconsidered your whole life decisions in the middle of the diner. 

Had you known he’d cancel the dinner reservations, you would've saved yourself the embarrassment, and never showed up. It was humiliating, the smile fading off your lips the moment the receptionist informed you there was no history for the name of your reservation. He didn't even tell you, simply letting a random person at a restaurant break down the information for you. 

The drive back filled with your choked cries, mascara smudging the downside of your eye as tears welled nonstop, messing up your makeup base. You didn't even care at this point, ditching plans to hangout with his stupid friends? Mind you, ones whom he clearly stated he hated. Spending such an important day with them made you feel pathetic, like a fool, hence he knew how special this is for you.

You caught glimpse of the time upon your arrival, scoffing and kicking your shoes off when you noticed it was five till midnight, the realization that you were spending the year alone making your heart clench. You didn't need a man, you were going to order takeout, have a drink, turn on your favorite show, and waste the night away. On your own.  

Those were your plans, however, they were swiftly interrupted when you noticed the shredded confetti along with flower petals trailing a path to your room, as you followed it with haste, the said scene raising suspicions in your head. 

To your surprise, the lights suddenly turned on, as you were met with more confetti, jolting from your spot the moment it made a loud pop. You held your hand close to your heart, feeling it increase in pace as you took in your surroundings, the nicely decorated space earning a shuddered breath out of you. 

Your mouth gaped in awe, gaze eventually shifting to the person in charge of this mess, heart melting into a puddle when you caught sight of your boyfriend, grinning like a fool while he waited for a reaction, face immediately dropping when you didn't give one in response; not one that's pleasant, that's for sure. 

“What’s wrong, baby?” He questioned, halting when he walked in your direction, merely for you to step back. “Did I scare you? I’m sorry, I didn't mean to startle–” 

“You cancelled plans to do this?” You cut him off, words dripping with venom. 

“I– Do you not like it?” He hesitated to ask, lips parting with a shaky exhale. “I thought you would, I wanted it to be a surprise.” 

“This is stupid, Rafe. You should've at least told me, I wouldn't have gotten ready to humiliate myself! You call this a surprise?!” You wipe away your tears, mouth moving faster than your brain 

“I’m sorry, baby.” Rafe's voice dropped into a whisper, approaching you with haste, and cupping your face in his hands once he was within your presence. “It was selfish of me to not think it through, and not see it from your perspective. I thought it would be a nice surprise, ‘cause we always celebrate out.” 

You relaxed when Rafe embraced you in a hug, the smell of his musky cologne intoxicating your senses. He rubbed soothing circles to the blade of your shoulder, as comfortable silence heaved the chilly air. 

“Whatever,” You muffled, suppressing your smile as you sniffled, nuzzling your face in his chest. “That wasn't cool, I actually thought you were ditching me to hangout with Topper.”

“I would never,” he chuckled, the sound vibrating against your head. “I was busy preparing this for you.”

At that, your eyes roamed around the decorated room, giggling upon realizing the amount of effort he put into it. It was absolutely adorable, made your chest swell with joy, fully forgetting the reason you were upset. 

“Do you like it?” He cooed, tilting your head with the hands around your chin. 

“Mhm,” you hummed, scrunching your nose when he captured your lips in a kiss. “I’m still mad at you.” 

“Happy new year, baby.”

a/n happy new yr's mls <3 js sum nonsense to celebrate eheh!!

[bunji-enthusiast]

I had this in thought alot! (It's gory if you don't mind!)

Poppy playtime player becoming so hungry at this point that their losing their sanity and thinking of eating the corpses For survival so the rest has to hold player down from eating the corpses!

(I know its gory and so sorry if it made you uncomfortable)

𝐖𝐚𝐲 𝐃𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐖𝐞 𝐆𝐨

Sypnosis [The tempting smell of the corpses becomes more and more frequent, it eventually became too hard for you too ignore due to your increasing hunger. Luckily, you had some allies to help you resist it; even if forcibly.]

Characters [Kissy Missy, DogDay, Poppy, Doey The Doughman. (Seperate)]

Note || you didn’t make me uncomfortable at all! Don’t worry, but it’s a topic I tried to write with care. This shit is a very real thing that can happen, and should be treated with caution and respect.

Kissy Missy

You had never imagined it would come to this: an insatiable hunger gnawing at your gut, unrelenting as the hours passed. You, once a proud employee of Playtime Co., found yourself trapped in the eerie, decaying remnants of the factory, alongside strange, monstrous beings that had once been your colleagues. The stench of death lingered thick in the air, a heavy reminder of the atrocities committed during The Hour of Joy, but now it did more than just disgust you. Now, it tempted you.

At first, you fought against the gnawing cravings that threatened to overtake you. How could you—someone who had worked here—ever think of consuming the bodies of the very ones you had once known, even if they were twisted remnants of their former selves? And yet, each passing hour made it harder to resist, each sight of a fallen figure, each whiff of their decaying flesh, made your resolve falter. Hunger, once a mere inconvenience, became a ravenous beast clawing at your insides.

But you were not alone in this misery. Kissy Missy, who had once been just another experiment under Playtime Co.'s cruel reign, was there, always by your side. Tall and slender, her pink fur now marred by the scars of countless battles, she seemed almost... human in a way. Her blue bow and yellow hands stood out against her once pristine pink fur, now tattered from years of neglect and violence. She had been through her own trauma, the burns on her right side proof of that, yet she still managed to offer you a strange sense of comfort, a reminder that you weren't the only one left with so much lost.

You hated the hunger, but it was her presence that kept you from succumbing. Despite her own pain and injuries, she remained strong, acting as a barrier between you and the darkness threatening to overtake you.

Kissy's efforts were not subtle. She could see the desperation in your eyes as you edged closer to the corpses scattered around the facility, the lifeless remains of those who had been victims of the Prototype’s reign. She had already seen what the hunger could do to a person, and she would be damned if she allowed you to fall victim to it.

"Don’t," she would warn, her voice surprisingly gentle despite the fierceness that radiated from her. "Stay with me."

You hated that she had to intervene, to hold you back with both her force and concern. But you knew deep down that she was right. If she weren't there, you might have already given in, becoming something far worse than you already were. The hunger was more than just physical. It was a pull, a drive to consume the very thing that you had once been, the remnants of a life that had crumbled away into twisted, grotesque shapes.

Each time you got too close, her grip tightened around your arm, pulling you away from the gruesome temptation. There were moments, though, when you could feel your resistance weakening, when the hunger surged so strongly that it drowned out every other thought. At those times, she was not gentle. She would force you back, pushing you away from the remains, her sharp eyes filled with a mix of sorrow and fierce determination.

It was only then, in those moments, that you saw the lengths she was willing to go to keep you from crossing that line. The force she applied was not cruel but necessary. You were no longer yourself, a mere shell of who you once were. And she, though herself a victim of this cruel factory, refused to let you become something even worse.

"You’re not one of them," Kissy would say, her voice laced with a fierce protectiveness. "Don’t lose yourself."

There was something strange about the way she said it, as though she knew something deeper, something that had been lost to you. You were not just another victim of the Prototype’s horrific games—you were something else, something worth saving.

The hunger didn’t go away, not entirely. But you fought against it, clinging to the memory of who you used to be. And as each day passed, as each battle with your own cravings grew more intense, you realized that you weren’t alone in this anymore. Kissy Missy, despite her own pain, was there, holding you back from the abyss, keeping you tethered to whatever humanity you had left.

She would do anything to prevent you from falling, even if it meant pushing you to your breaking point. And in the end, you knew you owed her more than just your survival. She had become your anchor in a world that had long since drowned in darkness, guiding you through the factory’s nightmarish halls with a strength that you had long since lost.

But even then, there were moments when the hunger threatened to overtake you, and in those moments, you understood just how far Kissy Missy was willing to go to save you from yourself. She was more than just an ally; she was a reminder of the last shred of humanity that existed in this forsaken place.

Would you be able to resist the temptation forever? Could you both survive the horrors that awaited you in the depths of Playtime Co.? Only time would tell, but as long as Kissy Missy was there, you felt a sliver of hope that you might just find a way to escape the darkness together.

DogDay

You stagger through the cold, decaying corridors, your stomach gnawing at you with an unbearable hunger. It's been hours since you last found food, and your body is betraying you. The thought of cannibalism has been creeping into your mind, tempting you like a forbidden fruit. The idea repulses you, but with every passing hour, that same thought grows more and more alluring. Your lips are dry, your body weak, and every fiber of your being is screaming for sustenance. You grit your teeth, trying to push the urge down, but it rises again, a terrifying whisper in the back of your mind.

"Why not?" it asks, a cold voice that isn't your own. "What else is there? Food is food, isn't it?"

You stumble forward, your vision blurred from exhaustion. The floor beneath you seems to shift, as if the very foundation of this forsaken place is alive. You know you're being driven mad, but your hunger, that primal instinct, is overpowering. The walls seem to close in on you, their decay a reflection of your own deteriorating state of mind.

Just as you're about to give in to the temptation, a voice, soft yet commanding, cuts through the haze of your thoughts.

"Don't," DogDay says, his monotone voice a calm anchor in the storm that rages inside you. His words are a gentle plea, a reminder of the bond you share with him.

You turn to see him, his disfigured form standing in the shadowed corner of the hallway. His orange fur is a stark contrast to the darkness surrounding you, and despite his monstrous appearance, there's a sense of comfort in his presence. His body is a grotesque mockery of what it once was, bisected at the waist and held together with leather straps, yet his eyes, black and expressive, seem to convey nothing but concern for you.

"DogDay..." you mutter, your voice hoarse, as you struggle to stand. "I can't... I don't know how much longer I can hold on."

DogDay's head tilts slightly, as if he understands the torment you're going through. He knows. He's been there before, though perhaps in a different way. His stitched-together body speaks of an existence far more painful than yours could ever be. And yet, he chooses to help you, to guide you through this madness.

"I won't let you," DogDay says firmly, his voice barely above a whisper. "You can't. This isn't the way."

You can feel the weight of his words sink into you, and for a moment, you close your eyes, trying to push the hunger down again. But it lingers, gnawing at your insides. It's tempting, so tempting to give in.

But DogDay is here. He always has been.

You turn to him, and for the first time in what feels like forever, you take a step back. Not just from the hunger, but from the madness that has consumed you. You're not alone. DogDay is here, and though he can't move as freely as he once did, he is steadfast in his support.

The moment passes, but the hunger is still there, lurking beneath the surface. It's waiting for you to falter, to give in. But DogDay won't let that happen.

"Stay with me," he urges, his voice as steady as ever. "I know the darkness calls to you, but you're stronger than it. We just need to keep moving. Keep moving, and we'll find a way out."

You nod, wiping the sweat from your brow. The hunger doesn't go away, but for now, it's bearable. You can withstand it. With DogDay by your side, you will survive this.

As you walk together through the decaying corridors, the weight of the past still hanging heavily on your shoulders, you can't help but wonder just how far DogDay has come. He was once part of a group, the Smiling Critters, living in harmony with the experiments, but all of that changed during The Hour of Joy. The chaos, the bloodshed, it shattered everything. DogDay was left behind, a solitary figure in a world gone mad. Yet, through it all, he remained resilient, steadfast in his determination to help you.

"I was not always like this," DogDay says quietly, as if reading your thoughts. "I had a family once. A purpose. But that was taken from me, just like it was taken from everyone else."

His words hang in the air, heavy with grief and longing. You know the story, of course. The Smiling Critters' revolt against the Prototype, their deaths, and DogDay's subsequent imprisonment by CatNap. It was a tragic tale, one that left DogDay scarred in both body and mind. But despite it all, he chose to survive.

And now, he chooses to help you survive.

The thought is enough to steel your resolve. You can do this. You will not succumb to the darkness. Not while DogDay is here to keep you grounded.

The two of you move forward, one step at a time, the silence between you comfortable, yet filled with unspoken understanding. The hunger still claws at you, but for now, you resist. With DogDay by your side, you know you can make it through this.

Poppy

The atmosphere in the factory was suffocating. The low hum of machines, the distant clattering of metal, and the unsettling silence in between all gnawed at you. You'd been walking for hours now, your stomach growling like an angry beast inside of you, each hour dragging the hunger closer to the surface. There was a time when you’d had a deep hatred for the idea of cannibalism. But now? The thought didn’t seem so absurd. Every inch of your body ached with need. The edges of your vision blurred with hunger, but still, you resisted the impulse.

"You need to hold it together," you muttered to yourself, your voice hoarse and desperate. You couldn't let your mind go there, couldn’t let the gnawing hunger take you to such a dark place.

Then, out of the corner of your eye, you saw her—Poppy. A doll, yes, but one that seemed to hold some kind of strange power over you. She was small, porcelain skin cracked, but her eyes... her eyes were too real. Too alive. The crack running across her face only seemed to add to the unsettling, almost haunting nature of her presence. Yet she was there, watching over you, her concern evident even with her painted smile.

"Are you okay?" Poppy's voice, though childlike, held an unexpected firmness, as if she knew exactly what you were going through.

"Do I look okay?" you snapped, frustration bubbling to the surface. "I'm starving. I'm dying. And you're... just a doll. What could you possibly understand?"

Poppy didn't flinch. She merely tilted her head, her glassy blue eyes reflecting your pain in a way that only made the hunger worse. But there was something else behind those eyes. Understanding? Sympathy? It was hard to tell.

"I understand more than you think," she said quietly. "You don't want to go down that path. Trust me."

Her words held a strange weight. Despite her being a mere doll, she exuded a certain authority—like she was guiding you, almost protecting you from your own darkness. It was unnerving and, yet, comforting at the same time.

You stepped back, wiping your brow, but the hunger wouldn't let you go. It clawed at you, deep within, screaming to be fed. Your hand instinctively reached towards the nearest source of food—a small, half-eaten rat carcass lying in the shadows.

Before your fingers could wrap around it, Poppy's small, porcelain hand shot out. "No," she said sharply, her voice cutting through the fog in your mind. "I won't let you."

You froze, staring at her, confused. "What... what are you going to do about it? You're just a doll. What power do you have?"

Poppy's eyes narrowed. "I have more power than you think. And I will stop you."

Before you could process the words, Poppy was suddenly in front of you, her small hand placed firmly on your chest. You felt a strange warmth spread from the spot where her hand met your skin, and for a moment, the hunger seemed to ebb away, replaced by something else—something deeper. But just as quickly, the warmth was gone, replaced by a biting cold as Poppy stepped back.

"You don't understand," she said, her voice softer now. "I won't let you become like them. I won't let you become like... him."

You stared at her in confusion, your mind too clouded with hunger to process what she meant. You'd heard the whispers about the Prototype, the monster who twisted everything around him, but you couldn’t focus on that now. Not with the gnawing ache in your gut.

"I can't hold on much longer," you whispered. "I need food. Real food."

Poppy took a deep breath, her porcelain face still. She seemed to consider something before her eyes flickered to the side, as if she were contemplating an action. Then, with a sudden, sharp motion, she grabbed your wrist.

"You will not fall to this. Not while I’m here. Not while there’s a chance."

The intensity in her voice stunned you. You'd never expected a doll—a toy—to show such determination. But it was there. Her unwavering resolve was impossible to ignore.

"You don't understand," you said again, more urgently this time. "You can't stop me. You don't know what it’s like to be on the edge like this... to be so desperate."

Poppy's eyes softened, but her grip on your wrist tightened. "I do understand," she whispered. "I've seen the consequences of desperation. I've seen what it can turn you into. And I won't let you become that."

You looked into her eyes, seeing not a doll, but something much more complex. Something alive, struggling with the same darkness you were. She was just as broken as you, perhaps even more so, trapped in this hellish place for who knows how long.

"I will fight this," you rasped, voice trembling.

"You will fight this," Poppy repeated, as though reinforcing the promise to yourself. "I won't let you lose."

The hunger still gnawed at you, but there was something in Poppy's words—a lifeline. A chance. You weren’t sure if it was enough to save you, but you weren’t alone anymore. She had no power over your body, but in this twisted game of survival, she had become your tether. Your reminder of something you had long forgotten: humanity. You just had to hold on.

And for the first time in hours, you didn’t feel entirely alone.

Doey The Doughman

It had hours, maybe even more then a couple days—you couldn’t tell anymore. Time had become a blur, and the hunger gnawed at you with an intensity you could hardly describe. Your stomach was a hollow pit, and every hour that passed, the sensation grew worse. You hated it. You hated the very idea of what you were beginning to consider. But your options were running out.

The factory, once a place full of life and color, now stood desolate, a rotting carcass of what it had once been. Its walls, dim and cracked, seemed to close in on you with every passing moment. Your search for food had been fruitless, and what remained of the once-thriving operations was little more than discarded remnants of forgotten lives. Desperation had begun to seep into your thoughts, and with it, a temptation you never thought you would entertain.

Cannibalism. The idea lingered in the back of your mind like a whisper in the dark. You knew it was wrong, morally abhorrent, but the hunger—it was becoming unbearable. You couldn’t deny that the flesh of another being, even one of the toy creatures that had once roamed this place, might offer a solution. You didn’t want to think about it, but your body cried out for sustenance.

It was then that you heard the soft squish of footsteps approaching. You turned, blinking against the fading light, and saw him: Doey.

The dough-like creature was an oddity in this forsaken world. His body, made of multicolored, clay-like dough, seemed to shimmer in the dimness. His long arms—orange and yellow—hung at his sides, his short, stubby red legs moving with surprising speed. The blue bowler hat perched on his head was almost comical against his mismatched features, and his simple, expressive face, with a line for a mouth and two holes for eyes, always seemed to radiate an air of cheer, even in the darkest of times.

"Hey there," Doey’s voice was calm, but there was an undertone of concern that you couldn’t ignore. He could always tell when something was wrong, even if you hadn’t spoken a word.

You had never been one for speaking about your feelings, especially with a creature like Doey. You didn’t trust anyone—not after everything you’d been through. But there was something different about him. Something about his kindness, his willingness to help, even when it meant putting himself in danger.

"I know you're struggling," Doey said, his eyes narrowing as he read your expression. "But you have to resist it. You can’t let the hunger take control of you. Not like this."

You swallowed hard, feeling the knot in your throat tighten. "I don’t know if I can hold on much longer," you muttered, your voice barely a whisper.

Doey stepped closer, his large arms almost seeming to engulf you in their reach as he gently placed a hand on your shoulder. "I’m not going to let you fall into that darkness," he said firmly. "I promised you. I’ll help you resist, even if it means doing things you might not like."

You blinked, looking at the doughy figure in disbelief. "What are you talking about?"

Without warning, Doey’s expression shifted from that of a friendly companion to something far more serious. The playful demeanor that usually characterized his every move was gone, replaced by a cold determination. "I’m going to stop you if I have to," he said, his voice stern, yet full of understanding. "I won’t let you give in to it."

Your breath hitched, and for the first time, you felt a flicker of fear. It wasn’t from Doey himself, but from the fact that you knew, deep down, he was right. If you gave in, it wouldn’t just be your body that suffered—it would be your soul, too. But the temptation was so strong. It was almost impossible to push it away.

"Don’t make me do this," Doey warned, as if sensing your internal struggle. "You don’t want to go down that path."

The hunger inside you raged, a beast that tore at your insides. Your thoughts were clouded by the vision of the soft, tender flesh that could satiate you. You tried to push the thoughts away, but they clung to your mind like a shadow.

You took a step forward, your hands trembling as you gripped a nearby piece of metal, your mind flickering with the thought of using it, of ending the misery that had overtaken you.

"Don’t," Doey’s voice was sharp, his body blocking your path. "I will stop you, even if it means I have to restrain you."

He wasn’t threatening. He was determined. And in that moment, you knew he would do it.

You locked eyes with him, the weight of your internal battle becoming unbearable. The hunger had made you weak, both physically and mentally, but Doey was your anchor, a reminder of the better part of yourself. He wasn’t just a friend; he was a lifeline.

"Please," you whispered, the word escaping you before you could stop it. "I can’t—"

Doey didn’t give you a chance to finish. His long, orange arm shot out, grabbing you by the wrist with surprising force. "I won’t let you go there," he said softly, but with an unmistakable firmness. "You’re not alone in this. Not anymore."

For a moment, you struggled, but the strength in his grip was like nothing you had ever encountered. He wasn’t trying to hurt you—he was holding you, not with force, but with care.

"Just breathe," Doey said, guiding you to sit down on the cold concrete floor. "We’ll get through this. Together."

And for the first time in what felt like forever, you allowed yourself to lean into him. The hunger was still there, gnawing at the edges of your mind, but with Doey by your side, the battle didn’t seem so hopeless.

You weren’t alone.

And that, you realized, was more than you could have hoped for in a place like this.

[nottswitch]

— if you’ve been nice, you get…

───────────── 𝐧𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞. ─

summary: in the midst of the second wizarding war, you have to go into hiding at mattheo’s insistence – he knows his father will be looking for you. however, on christmas eve he pays you an unexpected yet very welcome visit

pairing: mattheo riddle x reader

cw: 18+ smut, established relationship, p in v, unprotected sex, slight breeding kink, creampie, nipple play, praise, cursing

wc: 1.6k

a/n: another ‘nice’ one with mattheo <3 i just love vulnerable and needy matty, what can i say.

⟡ navigation ; m.lists ; mattheo m.list ; kinkmas 2024

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The sounds of the winter night were barely existent as you gazed into the window, the empty plain shimmering underneath the silvery moon hanging in the sky. It had been a while – a long, long while since you’d seen any type of civilization, stuck in the middle of nowhere, between a dense, howling forest and a vast plain of nothingness. Your cabin wasn’t bad – Mattheo wouldn’t just shove you anywhere, he’d always make sure you had as much comfort as the situation would allow it. But the cozy bed felt empty without the weight of his body, the heat of the fireplace felt cold without his body’s warmth next to you, the herbal tea was bitter and disgustingly diluted with no one to share it with.

Christmas Eve was supposed to be fun, a celebration of joy in preparation for the big feast. Instead, you felt the ever-consuming numbness, a hole in your chest that couldn’t be filled without Mattheo’s presence in your life. It had been impossibly hard, your life a mere hollow existence with no curly head, no infuriatingly charming smirk, no endlessly dark eyes in sight. But you persevered – you knew Mattheo cared about your safety and was doing it simply out of love, the thought of which carried you through the dull sequence of days.

A sudden knock on the door jolted you out of your thoughts, your senses instantly alerted. Your hand was immediately on your wand as you crept towards the front door of the cabin, your footsteps light and quiet. A slight creak of the handle being turned, and your face was peeking out of the crack, along with the tip of your wand. Your eyes widened in disbelief, taking in a very familiar face that you hadn’t had the pleasure of seeing in at least two weeks. It couldn’t have been…?

“The place where we first kissed?”

“Third floor, behind the tapestry, your pretty little body pressed against the wall.”

Mattheo’s voice was as low as you remembered, slightly shaking from the excitement he was trying to contain within the bounds of his chest. Then, a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips, making that adorable dimple pop out in a way that made your heart flutter.

“Took you to a broom closet right after.”

A sigh escaped your lips, a smile spreading there – a reaction you could never help whenever he teased you. It really was him.

“Matty…”

“Shh, baby. Actions…”

The door was roughly yanked open, Mattheo’s eyes roaming all over your features, unmistakable desire and longing written all over his rugged yet still devilishly handsome face.

“Speak louder than words.”

The next moment, his lips were on yours, sliding, biting and sucking, his tongue easily slipping inside and claiming the warmth he’d been desperately craving for so, so long – two weeks without you seemed like two eternities. The sound of the door shutting and locking behind him was drowned out by your gasp, flowing into a moan as Mattheo’s hands glided over your body, one of them ending up firmly gripping your ass while the other one started eagerly kneading the flesh of your tits.

“Fuck, baby girl…” he whispered against your lips as he walked you back towards the couch, lowering you onto the plush surface and pressing you into the soft fabric. “Missed your perfect body so much.”

You couldn’t, and didn’t plan on holding back soft moans and whimpers as he started peppering kisses down your neck, his lips wet and messy from the kiss you had just shared, yet his movements were slow in contrast. He was savouring each and every inch of you, lifting up and tossing away your – actually, his – sweatshirt in the process, the barrier between your skin completely unnecessary. Mattheo hummed, the sound filled with shameless satisfaction, when he found out you weren’t wearing anything underneath.

“Waiting for me, huh?” he murmured, drinking in the sight of your perked up nipples for a good moment before lowering his head. His lips found the small mound, wrapping around it as his tongue swirled and lapped, lavishing your nipple with attention. Your fingers gently threaded through his messy, borderline wild curls, slightly damp from the snowflakes that landed there minutes ago. Mattheo’s eyes fluttered shut, his need for you increasing tenfold – the feeling of your stiff nipple in his mouth was a delightful mix with the dearly missed pressure of your nails on his scalp, sending small tingles of pleasure straight into his hardening cock.

“I’m always waiting for you,” you managed to whisper, your voice trembling from the sensations his skillful tongue was bringing you. Mattheo hummed again, pulling away just to attach his lips to your other nipple. His hands were now on your hips, playing with the waistband of your sweatpants, fingers dipping underneath to caress your soft skin.

“Good girl,” he muttered, his voice muffled by the fullness of your breast in his mouth. “My good girl.”

The praise echoed in your lower abdomen, anticipation starting to coil like a spring. You’d been missing his touch, his hands, his everything for weeks – two weeks, basically, ages – and you could barely hold on, your thighs clenching around his waist. Mattheo chuckled lightly, feeling the pressure around him tightening, and he just knew you wanted him as much as he wanted you. This knowledge only served to heighten his arousal, his hips starting to grind into you at a slow, sensual pace. His cock throbbed in his jeans, eager to be freed and slip inside of you that very moment.

Reluctantly detaching himself from your tits, Mattheo took off his own shirt, pressing his torso against yours right after. The contact of your skin against his made you shiver, your hands sliding down to roam all over his chest and abs. His body felt so familiar, so right to the touch, and you couldn’t wrap your head around the fact that somehow, you managed to survive without feeling it every single day. You didn’t want to – if you could, you’d spend every waking moment with him glued to your side.

“You’re driving me crazy, love,” Mattheo hissed against the skin of your neck, his lips going back to covering it with sloppy, open-mouthed kisses. He finally pulled your sweatpants down, discarding them onto the floor along with your underwear, his jeans and boxers joining them in a second. Without any more barriers between you, you could feel the heat of his cock against your dripping center, your entrance already squeezing at the excitement of what was to come.

“I want you, baby,” you nearly moaned out, feeling his hands grabbing your thighs to spread them further apart.

“Want you too, sweet girl,” he answered, his lips moving up, along your jawline, before finding yours again. As he kissed you, passion blending in with tenderness and affection, his fingers closed around the base of his length, his aching tip teasing through your folds. “Gonna make you feel so good… Gonna fill you all up…”

With that, he pushed inside, his cock stretching you out in a way that you missed so much. You moaned into his mouth, clutching at his back – you knew you were going to leave scratch marks, and Mattheo also knew he was going to wear them with pride. He started moving, his tip prodding at your cervix, the slight pain quickly overridden with pleasure. Your naked bodies were completely tangled together, the couch creaking slightly under the steady movements of your sweaty forms. The faint glow of the fireplace casted flickering shadows onto your faces, your eyes connected in a loving, yearning stare-off.

Your hand came up to cradle Mattheo’s cheek, tracing soft circles into his skin as your eyes momentarily closed, savouring each moment of closeness you could get from him. Your lips parted in quiet whines and moans, Mattheo’s cock hitting all the right spots inside of you to bring you closer and closer to the long-awaited edge. A small smile graced his expression as he took in the sight of you, flushed and lost in bliss – just like he wanted you, like he always wanted you, not a hint of worry on your pretty face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice ever so slightly hoarse, his own pleasure building up and up and up with each deep, slow thrust. “You close, baby?”

You could only nod, your stomach starting to flutter at the anticipation of being pushed over the edge.

“Come on, love. Cum for me,” he gently urged you. He craved to see you come undone underneath him, the longing he’d been wallowing in tugging at his chest – he couldn’t imagine leaving you after this, even though he knew he had to; unfortunately, he didn’t have much time. “Cum for me, like a good girl…”

And you did. The wave of pleasure wasn’t sudden – it was warm and sweet, carrying you into the joyful world where only the two of you existed, Mattheo’s name falling from your lips a soft caress in his ear. It took his entire restraint not to fall over with you, his grunts growing a bit louder as he rode out your orgasm, his whole body buzzing, getting ready for his own.

“Gonna fill you up now, baby,” he breathlessly whispered, his dampened forehead resting against yours, his movements getting sloppier. “Gonna leave you something to remember me, yeah?”

You gave him another small nod, your form still trembling in the aftershocks of your peak. One more push, and Mattheo was spilling deep into you, the heat of his seed warming you up from the inside. He stayed there for a few moments, catching his breath, his hands mindlessly skimming over the soft skin of your hips.

“I love you,” you murmured, looking up at him with your half-lidded eyes, unbridled affection swimming in their depths. Mattheo let out a chuckle, his adoring gaze meeting yours.

“Love you too, baby girl,” he echoed, a soft kiss landing on your forehead. “Merry Christmas Eve.”

[that-one-malereader-enthusiast]

𝐈𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐫𝐞 • 𝐈𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞

╰┈➤ 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐑𝐨𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐉𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚 𝐑𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐢𝐭

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

𝐋𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐭 𝐱 𝐌𝐚𝐥𝐞 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 || inspo: @nickgoesinsane the post !!!

⟩ » Part One « | Part Two ⟨

cw : MDNI - S1 Lestat, flirting, suggestive content, top male reader, goofy male reader, bagged the baddie by being autistic aesthetic, mentions of sexual interactions, slight Louis jealousy, one-shot.

Thinking of how Lestat would so leisurely find his way onto your leg, his body pressed against yours almost similar to how a feline would greet another. How he would lean his head over as you'd whisper to him what others only wish they could hear.

Ears perking up at the melodic laughter from the blonde beauty himself. His hand having to cover his lips as to stifle his own joy, afraid he wouldn't be able to stop himself. Your mere words brought him joy, a rare feeling when it didn't come from either spiting others or showing off his many 'talents'.

You spoiled the man rotten from your presence alone.

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

Lestat had become absolutely enthralled with you.

Beforehand, he'd peered his way into your mind and saw you as nothing more than a simpleton who genuinely happened to stumble into a bar. Like a lost puppy, you seemed almost shy, scrambling for help in your mind as the bustling room seemed like a cry out of your comfort zone.

Oh how absolutely wrong he was.

By the time he'd occupied a seat next to you, the blonde man barely had enough time to introduce himself before you perked up and did so first. You were a bit of a motor-mouth, but a smooth one at that. Lestat seemed only partially annoyed as he practically got your life's story before saying a measly five words.

You were the perfect target for a good night, to sate both his needs of hunger. A gluttonous lust he'd have sprung on Louis if the man wasn't so tied up in his own family affairs at the moment. It couldn't have been laid out any better. You were alone, having moved from further down south to try and set up business, but you were lost and passing by.

You had no family or friends worried about you, you weren't of a high enough status to be searched for if gone for more than a day, and better yet, all your belongings were currently on you as you'd been trying to find a place to stay for the night.

Lestat did have to silence you for the moment as you rambled about your current situation. His nimble fingers seemed to caress your jaw, thumb place against your lips. "For such a handsome face, you speak more than you can breathe. Though I can't blame you, having to go through such a harrowing journey with no one willing to help you?"

You seemed to smirk behind his finger, a laugh leaving your slightly chapped lips. "Well, what can I say pretty boy? You simply took my breath away the moment you sat next to lil' ol' me."

Lestat was a bit surprised to say the least as you seemed openly okay with complimenting him in such a way. Many men, caucasian or colored, seemed to keep to themselves or explore behind closed doors. You? Your mind was open and unafraid, bold to say the least—though there wasn't a single degrading thought to behold at that moment, even as the conversation continued.

"Perhaps I could provide you a place for the night? I highly doubt you'd be willing to march to your destination after such a strenuous journey here, pauvre chiot..." Lestat removed his hand, one now tapping against the bar while the other lingered against your open thigh.

"That's mighty sweet of you! So, how could this poor country boy ever repay you for such a kind gesture mista..." You droned on, hoping he'd fill the space in order to finally introduce himself.

"Lestat, Lestat de Lioncourt," he practically purred out.

"Pretty name for an even prettier face. Ya' don't sound like you're from here yourself mister Lestat. Got a story of your own to tell?" You'd now seem almost infatuated with this man who'd barely begin to speak to you, much less offer a place to stay. In the back of your mind, you knew that it was a ploy to sleep with you, maybe even take some of your belongings, but the man seemed much too proper and seemed to hold himself to a higher standing than to be a petty thief.

"Oh, but would you rather I bother you with something more than a story, mon cher?"

"Maybe, but only if you explain what you just said. Sounded somthin' like you were callin' me a cherry. Not to disappoint you, but ain't the first time I've been called a fruit, I'll tell ya that." That seemed to get a genuine chuckle from Lestat, making the smile on your lips widen.

The blonde individual shook his head as his laughter died down. "It seems you are not familiar with the tongue I speak in. Just as it seems you are just as unfamiliar with the French quarter as well."

"I wouldn't mind becoming familiar, whether it be with your tongue or otherwise," you quipped. "I can do much more than yappin' yer ear off, but I do enjoy your voice much more than hearing my own. Wanna get out of this joint? Doesn't seem much like your style Lestat."

If it was an excuse to finally get you alone, he'd take it. As if you were already mesmerized by the devil in disguise, the two of you left the establishment and into the darkness of the night.

Even though you spoke to an extent that would annoy any congressman who'd have told debate against you, Lestat seemed to grow fond of the conversation, as well as the praises you seemed to give. You followed him willingly, though it wasn't much of a surprise to Lestat. There were people that simply swooned over him via their first meeting, but you were different.

Yes, you were charismatic, a bit awkward, and yes, a chatterbox, but your sudden infatuation with Lestat was odd to him. He couldn't see any current thoughts that were of the sexual variety, just genuine curiosity.

So he amused you with a short tale of his own travels, walking side by side in no direction in particular. He was simply biding time before eventually giving your life an end. Though he couldn't have imagined that an hour later, he would be settled in an empty field laying in the grass with you, laughing his heart.

"Chéri, how would he have even gotten his head stuck in such a place?"

"Beats me! Believe me, I called him shithead plenty of times, I just didn't think he'd take it in such a literal sense. Look, and that cow? I felt even worse for her." You ended as you recounted a story from your hometown. "You also keep calling me chair? Are you being funny? Look, you can sit on me, all you had to do was ask honestly—"

"Mon Dieu, you will be the end of me," Lestat wheezed out before sitting up. "I have not laughed like this in a very long time." Rubbing his jaw, he could barely feel an ebbing of aching in his cheeks from how hard he'd smiled before, his stomach tending from how tickled he'd become. "And no, I am not poking fun at you mon cher. Your humor isn't the least bit boring unlike some unruly men I've come into contact with. I assumed you simply had lines to try and...take off with me."

Your face flushed at the idea. "Well, you were also laying it on thick yourself Lestat. Didn't know if you wanted to help me or...somethin' else. I mean, I'm flattered, surprised too. What's a pretty thing like yourself doin without someone on your hip. I mean—you're proper as hell, a real gentleman if anything. A flirt too, charming, handsome, cute, radiant even. You're a diamond compared to the dull coin I am."

Lestat seemed even more surprised at the compliments he was getting, yet you seemed to neglect your own self worth. "Even coins are valuable, dull, dirty, or not. Why do you put yourself down so?"

There was a cloud of despair in your mind for a moment before a sad smile appeared upon your face. "Today could be my last for all I know. I haven't made a name for myself here, and if I were to disappear tonight well...what mark would I have made? You know me as this country bumpkin ya met at the bar? You'll forget about me tomorrow as if I never existed."

You weren't wrong, Lestat had planned to simply get rid of you then and there, but now you'd peaked his interest. "If...you were given the opportunity, to achieve what you'd like, would you take it?"

"No questions asked."

"Even if you had to make a deal with the devil himself?"

"I'd ask him to throw in beaut like yourself, I'd be all in."

Lestat felt a grin appear on his lips at your mere words. "You don't have much hesitation do you?"

"I've got nothing to lose. Go big or go home, right?"

"Indeed Mon cher."

Suddenly Lestat pounced, smashing his lips against yours in an almost bruising strength. You took it as a sign, knowing that tonight would mostly likely end in the two of you sleeping together. His tongue slipped into your mouth, now fighting for control as your own hands came to hold his waist. The kiss was heated, abit sloppy, and by the time Lestat pulled away, you were breathless and flushed down the neck. The moonlight gave way to his silhouette as he stayed hovered above your face.

"Are ya sure you want this Lestat? I've been told I'm a lot to handle."

"You've been so bold and quite forward all night, don't tell me you're getting shy now," a grin appeared on Lestats' face, his fangs peeking from behind his slightly swollen lips.

"Don't say I didn't warn you.."

♡ ͎. ｡˚ 　　°

Lestat seemed to stare at the headboard of the bed, almost lost in thought as just as he felt breathless. He only snapped back to reality as he felt a warm breath and kiss against his bare shoulder.

"You still with me Lestat?" Your voice was much softer, tender as you nuzzled against the nape of the others neck, the sheets covering both of your lower halves as your body hovered above his.

Blinking, the blonde seemingly loosened his grip on both the pillow and the sheet beneath him. He'd slept with others who also seemed full of themselves, but now the tables had turned. He was practically filled to the brim with your sheer girth alone, pressing against his more sensitive places. His tongue ran over his lips, lapping up the leftover drops of blood that filled his throat mere moments ago.

"I told you we could have gone slow...you're not hurtn' are you?"

Lestat was taken aback by your demeanor. Not many people seemed to care for his well-being, especially during sexual escapades such as these. "Mon cher, do you often become this worried about those you sleep with?"

"Couldn't say. You're...the first," your face completely bloomed at the sudden confession.

Lestat however was completely dumbfounded. You did not act like a virgin in bed. He would have never assumed it was your first time, not with the way you completely ravished his body by the time the two of you made it through the front door. Your touch like silk, finding every weak spot and milking it for all its worth.

A groan left the blonde's lips as you'd shifted, though he knew you'd be slightly dazed and possibly inebriated as you were unaware that he'd fed from you tonight. "Dieux, you must be humoring me again, no?" Even peering into your mind once again, he had seen the truth, and knew that you spoke of no jokes.

You made a small noise, but shook your head as you buried your face within Lestats' neck, kissing his warm skin and even up to his jaw. "I hope I'm not disappointin' ya..."

"Merde..."

Lestat didn't expect you to be a literal bucking bronco, but he couldn't deny how you made him feel. Physically, it was as if you were bringing heaven up on his flesh, every touch, flick, lick, almost other worldly. Emotionally...he didn't understand. By daylight you'd be dead, he was sure of it, that he'd have his fun and dispose of you before morning.

Though at the moment it didn't seem as if you were out of energy. A bit sluggish yes, but a certain part of you was ready for more. "Lestat..'" Muttering against his skin, your hips rutted upwards, making a heavenly noise leave the man below you. "You can be on top this time if you want..."

♡ ͎. ｡˚ 　　°

Three months ago, Lestat questioned his morality, though it wasn't the first time he did so. He always entertained Louis and even then, the humans around him weren't much worth the time or space when it came down to their needs or wants— whether it was self loathing, craving of sex, the need for food, or the wanting of home to go back to. They were all the same. It was the same with everyone he'd stumbled upon.

"Another round of drinks for the booth Chéri!"

Lestat found himself sitting on your leg, practically draped over you like a coat, his head tilted against yours. The spoils of laughter and joy you'd brought him within such little time was uncalled for, but granted, he never imagined someone like you would stumble into his life alongside Louis.

He saw no need to change you, though his eyes were set on someone else for such an event. You knew of his secret, and kept it to yourself. The nights where he'd come to see you, having dealt with racist snobs or uninteresting people, you were there to cleanse his boredom.

Though the two of you slept with each other quite often, you would never let him leave without pampering him after. And Lestat enjoyed every minute of it. Your sweet words, the true sincerity that you felt for him, that you loved him. Though it was hard to tell with Lestat if he felt that same way, or if he just adored you like any other human he might keep for entertainment.

Within the last few months the two of you had become business partners, having made a nightclub out of an old townhouse set to be demolished. Many strings had been pulled to get things up and running, but even then it happened to be a successful mission for both men. There was music, dancers, singers, all sorts of entertainers that came in to perform, and many people paid top dollar to come in.

Even Lestat had days where he'd perform on stage. To say he loved to peacock was an understatement.

This nightly job was as thrilling and fun as your nights in the town. Unfortunately, you were a horrible driver. Lestat had never been so unnerved about someone driving, and you? "A better lover than a driver I suppose?"

"I believe so ma chérie, I believe so..." It's safe to say that Lestat would be driving you around while you'd stay being his passenger princess.

Louis watched on from the other side of the half circle booth he sat in, his eyes narrowing at you as you practically wore Lestat, and the man let you. He couldn't understand what was so special about you. In his eyes, you were the same as him, maybe a little less.

Even as you'd been introduced to Louis, the two of you had never met eye to eye. Maybe it was because Lestat seemed to visit him just slightly less often than he did before you showed up. Maybe it was because he barely went out with Louis anymore because he was too busy riding you. With a glass in hand, Louis stared you down as you whispered something with Lestats' ear. He couldn't help but to wonder, seriously, what do you see in that guy?

Lestat stifled a laugh as he pressed the back of his own hand against his mouth. His piercing gaze seemed to shift over to Louis as his thoughts spoke much louder than others. The blonde couldn't help but to grin, pulling you in closer.

"He makes me laugh!"

"Hm?"

"Nothing ma très chère."

__________________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

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more fics from interview with the vampire » IWTV Masterlist

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Like, Comment, Or Reblog. || A/N: Thank you for reading! Any comments or notes help motivate me to post more often like this! Unfortunately I tend to overthink lots of my writings, which lead to me not posting or becoming unmotivated. This was written out as an imagine but I got carried away! Hope you all enjoyed! Will maybe edit and clean it up later!

[connorsui]

Eternity in Your Embrace

Astarion x reader

Genre/warnings: fluff, Angst (only because of dramatic astarion) with a Happy Ending (he loves u) Synopsis: Astarion finds himself overwhelmed by the depth of his love and longing for you whose presence is the light that guides him through the darkness of his past.

Note: I wanted a devoted astarion who only wants you and only you ....that's the only reason why I made this

w.c: 1,263

Astarion misses you. He misses you like the night sky misses the stars—dim and hollow, waiting for that spark to light his world again. You are his everything, his moon and sun, his salvation from the eternal darkness he was condemned to. He would give up a thousand lifetimes if it meant spending just one more moment with you. The mere thought of your absence claws at the hollow cavity where his heart should be, and he aches with the knowledge that without you, he is nothing.

He misses you. He misses the way your presence calms the storm inside him, the way your laugh ignites a warmth he thought long lost. The scent of you—soft and familiar, a delicate blend of jasmine and honeysuckle with a hint of fresh morning dew—lingers in the air long after you’ve left, driving him to the brink of madness. It's a fragrance that haunts him in the quiet hours of the night, pulling at his very being, urging him to find you, to hold you, to breathe you in until he's lost in you.

He misses the way your laughter dances through the air, light and melodic, like the tinkling of silver bells. It’s a sound that could chase away the darkest of thoughts, filling him with a joy he never believed he could feel again. He aches to hear it, to be the reason for that laughter, to see your eyes crinkle at the corners as your lips curve into a smile. Your laugh is contagious, and though it often bubbles out at the most unexpected times, he treasures every moment of it, for it is the music that plays in his soul.

Astarion misses the way you move, the graceful tilt of your head when you're deep in thought, the way your fingers brush absentmindedly against your lips as you read. He even misses your little quirks, the way you wrinkle your nose when you're concentrating, the soft hum of a tune that escapes your lips when you're content. It's the way you flick your hair over your shoulder when you're feeling confident, the way you chew on the end of your quill when you're pondering a particularly difficult passage in your studies. Every little detail of you is etched into his mind, a tapestry of memories that he clings to in your absence.

He is nothing without you, and he knows it all too well.

The soft sound of the door opening gently pulls him from his thoughts. He glances up from the journal in his hands, the one he’s been scribbling in, trying to capture the essence of his feelings for you. But words fail him. How can he possibly put into ink the depth of his love, the intensity of his need for you?

And there you are, standing in the doorway, bathed in the soft glow of the dying sun. His breath catches in his throat as he takes in the sight of you, your hair slightly tousled from the day’s activities, your eyes warm and inviting as they meet his.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you ask, a teasing smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

He can feel his heart—or what remains of it—flutter in his chest. You’ve always had this effect on him, ever since the moment he first laid eyes on you. He feels like a fool, standing there, staring at you like some lovesick mortal, but he doesn’t care. Because in this moment, nothing else matters but you.

“You are the very breath I take,” he murmurs, the words spilling from his lips before he can stop them. His voice is low, filled with a vulnerability he rarely lets himself show. But with you, he is unguarded, stripped bare of all pretenses. “By Gods in this life and the next, I would forever call myself your husband.”

You blush, a lovely shade of pink that spreads across your cheeks, and it only makes him love you more. He steps closer to you, his hands reaching out to cup your face, his thumbs brushing lightly over your flushed skin. Your eyes flutter closed at the contact, and he takes the moment to drink you in, to memorize every detail of your face, from the curve of your lips to the way your lashes rest against your cheeks.

He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. “I would give up everything for you,” he whispers, his voice trembling with the weight of his confession. “My past, my future, everything. Just to be with you, always.”

You smile softly at his words, your hands coming up to rest on his chest, over the place where his heart would beat if he were still alive. “And I would choose you, Astarion,” you say, your voice steady and full of love. “In every lifetime, in every world, I would always choose you.”

The words are a balm to his soul, soothing the jagged edges of his insecurities and fears. He closes the distance between you, capturing your lips in a kiss that is both gentle and fierce. It’s a kiss that speaks of promises, of a love that will transcend time and space. A love that will survive even the darkest of nights.

When you finally pull away, both of you breathing heavily, he can’t help the smile that spreads across his face. You return it, your eyes shining with happiness, and he feels something in his chest tighten, a swell of emotion so powerful it almost brings him to his knees.

“Come here, let’s sit for a while,” you say, breaking the moment with a soft invitation.

He laughs, the sound rich and full of life, and he wonders how he ever managed to live without you. “Anything for you, my love,” he says, taking your hand in his and guiding you to the couch.

And as you sit together, side by side, he can’t help but think that he would follow you to the ends of the earth, to the very edges of the universe, just to be with you. Because with you, he has found something he never thought he would—a reason to live, a reason to fight, a reason to hope.

And in that moment, as you lean against him, resting your head on his shoulder, he realizes that this is all he has ever wanted. A life with you. A love that will never fade, never die. A love that will last beyond the stars, beyond time itself.

By Gods, in this life and the next, he would forever call himself yours.

Like damn sweetie I barely arrive home and u telling me u love me? ....I love you too

[ivesambrose]

PAC: WHAT WILL BRING YOU JOY

Something we all could use a little more of 💕

To book a personal reading with me DM or email me at ivesambrose@gmail.com

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Picture 1

You may have felt a sense of helplessness of late. As though certain events and circumstances have genuinely been out of your control. Might have gone through some betrayals that led to certain necessary endings or have been dealing with loss that may have impacted your mental health too. Certain things have been necessary and whether you're fully aware of it or not, you do feel lighter. You will feel much lighter in the coming months eventually. For most of you, I'm seeing dancing, performance arts as well as a retreat to somewhere open and green will bring you joy. You really really need to fill your lungs with fresh air. Some of you have been on the edge or rather anxious and sleepless too. You need to breathe. Being around or tending to animals will bring you joy too. Learning about health and wellness will also do you well. Some of you will find joy in painting with water colors or taking quiet walks late at night (stay safe please) some of you could also use a swim or take up swimming for yourself. You need to pause and appreciate the things you don't really pay attention to. Maybe even listen to your subconscious more and block the external noise out this could also mean decluttering your room and/or surroundings as well.

Picture 2

You may have felt out of place or felt as though you have lacked community or resources for yourself. You're very protective of yourself and your energy as well as whatever you've accumulated by yourself be it in matters of wealth or any other accolades. You have a creative fire within you that is supposed to burn bright enough to illuminate the way without burning you out. Writing, communicating, journaling, learning, nurturing yourself and others will bring you joy. Celebrate yourself and the smallest wins in your life. Your thoughts, ideas, words, your voice especially and your mere presence is immensely powerful and this mere gift that you possses will inevitably turn your life around when you least expect it. Explore the world ahead, you do posses the ability to manifest it. The only reason you think it's denied to you is because you're afraid of taking the leap of faith. But rest assured, when time comes, it will feel right and you wouldn't have to overthink it. Till then, work on channeling your emotions into something creative that feels meditative at the same time. You don't require external validation for this. Learn to regulate your nervous system and self soothe too. You may also end up being a part of or building a community of people who feel like family too.

Picture 3

You may have felt severely isolated and it's not a new emotion, it's been lingering on and off for quiet some time. You've gained necessary wisdom however and learned to feel safe and welcome in your own company. You've likely also felt extremely defensive and at wits end with the people you've encountered as well. You're craving change and will invite a major one soon enough. For you, self expression of any form be it experimenting with your aesthetic or even transforming yourself completely be it your physical body, the way you look or the way you see the world will bring you joy. Some of you are also born entertainers some of you might really be into makeup or cosplay too. Others of you simply need to blatantly romanticize your existence and life for your own sake, treat it as cinema and watch your plot unfold. You're meant to make an impact of some sort, use your influence well and wisely. You have massive will power and perseverance. But that doesn't mean you need to treat every day like an active battle field that you need to survive. Some of you need to know that, even if the past feels familiar you can't live there if you seek to expand your horizons. The world is waiting for you as much as you're waiting for the world. Erase the mental and emotional distance you have put between you and what you desire.

[yeostinys]

My Dear Darling

Chapter 4

Pairing: Frat OT8!ATEEZ x Female Reader

Genre: Eventual Smut 18+, Fluff, Angst, Polyamorous Relationship!

Notes: NonIdol!AU, CollegeAU. Alcohol consumption, Explicit language. So so so much fluff. Lots of Wooyoung in this chapter. Polyamorous Relationship, (if you are not into that just pls ignore)

Word Count: 5.7k

Synopsis: The boys have a typical frat boy convo gushing over you. You spend the night and morning taking care of your lovely 8 boyfriends

previous >>> next chapter

———————————————————————

Wooyoung rubs his lips in a smirk as you hastily push him out of the bathroom. He could feel the curious gazes of a few partygoers looking him down the hallway, but he merely scoffed to himself, reveling in the triumphant thrill of the moment. As he made his way back to the basement area of the house, he smiled to himself at the memory of your sweet lips and the warmth of your breath lingering vividly in his mind.

He plopped down onto the plush leather couch, sinking into its softness, the smug expression firmly etched on his face. He could still picture your flustered expression—the way your cheeks flushed when he teased you. He licked his lips absentmindedly, adjusting himself on the couch and clearing his throat, trying to shake off the thoughts of you.

“Where’s Y/N?” Seonghwa’s voice broke through his reverie, an eyebrow arched in curiosity as he scrutinized Wooyoung.

“Ah, she ran into Jia upstairs,” Wooyoung replied with a casual wave of his hand, feigning indifference, even though his heart raced at the mere mention of your name.

“Wooyoung, why the fuck are you hard” Yeosang teases with a straight face, pointing at his pants. The boys quickly whip their heads in Wooyoung’s direction, and burst of laughter and scoffs fill the room. Wooyoung rolls his eyes in response and brings his hands down to shield himself, laughing at the sudden call out.

“Shut the fuck up, did you kiss her?!” Mingi whined, his voice a blend of excitement and disbelief. Wooyoung couldn't suppress the grin that spread across his face. He paused for a moment, letting the tension build before leaning back into the couch with a satisfied sigh.

“I didn’t only kiss her. We fucken made out in the bathroom,” he declared, a triumphant glint in his eye.

“Already?! Fuck- I really thought I was going to be the first one to make out with Y/N,” Yeosang pouted, crossing his arms as he leaned against the pool table, feigning annoyance.

Wooyoung lifted his chin, a proud smile playing on his lips as he brought his finger to his mouth in a mock gesture of contemplation.

“Hmm, hate to break it to you, Yeo. It was me.” He shrugged playfully, laughter bubbling forth, reveling in his victory.

“Actually, Woo,” The boys turned to see Yunho leaning casually against the wall, a cocky grin plastered on his face. “I hate to break it to you... I actually got a taste of Y/N’s lips yesterday on the kitchen counter. So technically, I got the first make out with her.”

“WHAT?!” The room erupted in disbelief, the boys exchanging wide-eyed glances filled with shock and an undercurrent of admiration. A wave of joy washed over them as they realized how you were slowly adjusting to their presence, embracing the warmth of their camaraderie and allowing yourself to engage in more physical closeness.

“I’m going to find Y/N,” Yeosang declared, a determined gleam in his eyes as he pushed himself off the table, eager to seek you out. But before he could make a dash for it, Hongjoong swiftly grabbed the back of his hoodie, yanking him back with an amused grin.

“Calm down, doberman. She’s with her friend right now,” he chided, the room bursting into laughter at the playful banter.

———

*Knock Knock*

“Y/N? It’s Jia! I’m back!” Her voice was muffled, but the urgency in her tone pierced through the bathroom door. You hurriedly opened it just a crack, your heart racing, and reached out for the sanitary pad she held out.

“Thank you, Jia. I’ll change and come right out,” you replied, trying to sound casual, but the flush on your cheeks betrayed you. You quickly closed the door, leaning against it for a moment to catch your breath. You ripped open the packaging and put on the pad, even though you most definitely didn’t need it.

As you turned to the mirror, a wave of embarrassment washed over you. Your eyes drifted to your neck, and your breath caught in your throat. There, vivid and undeniable, was a red flushed mark Wooyoung had left during your heated make out session.

(Fuck) You mentally cursed to yourself. You bring your hair forward to cover the mark, hoping it would be enough to hide the evidence of your private indiscretion. After a few moments of frantic adjustment, you took a deep breath and opened the bathroom door.

Jia was waiting just outside, her hands on her hips and a worried expression on her face. “Are you okay, Y/N?!” she asked, her eyes searching yours for any sign of distress. You smile at your best friend and nod, trying to project confidence despite the swirling chaos in your mind.

“Yeah, I’m fine!” you replied, perhaps a little too quickly.

“Okay! Well, wait for me!” Jia exclaimed, suddenly bursting with energy. She shuffled past you, making a beeline for the bathroom. “I need to take a serious piss! Then we’ll go take a shot together!”

You chuckled softly, grateful for her lightheartedness. As she settled in, you leaned against the doorframe, a mixture of excitement and anxiety coursing through you.

———

For the next thirty minutes, Jia is glued to your side in the chaotic house. The air is thick with laughter, chatter, and the unmistakable scent of spilled beer. The walls pulse with the heavy bass of music blaring from a speaker in the corner, shaking the very foundation of the house.

“Come on! Let’s dance!” Jia shouts, her voice cutting through the noise as she pulls you into the crowd. You can’t help but laugh at her infectious energy as she twirls, her hair flying around her like a wild halo. Her joy is palpable, and it’s hard not to get swept up in her enthusiasm.

You glance at the makeshift bar set up on the kitchen counter, where bottles of liquor stand at attention beside a punch bowl that looks suspiciously like it was mixed by someone who had already had too many. Jia has been passing you shot, after shot, even though you’re still accompanied by the mixed drink in your hand. You’ve been discreetly pouring the shots into the sink, careful not to let her catch on.

Amidst the chaos, you treasure this moment with her. She’s been your best friend for eight strong years, and the thought of hiding your relationship with ATZ from her feels like a betrayal. Maybe you should consider opening up to her about your relationship with ATZ… (I should still talk about it with the boys first before anything.) You thought to yourself. As Jia pulls you closer to the dance floor, you can’t help but admire how carefree she is, lost in the rhythm. You surrender to the chaos, letting the rhythm guide you. Jia spotted a familiar figure across the crowded room, her eyes lighting up as she caught sight of Wonho. A playful smile spread across her face, and without a moment's hesitation, she began to sway toward him, her movements fluid and carefree. She turned her head and flashed you a wide grin, a mischievous wink accompanying her expression and in an instant, he swept her away.

You couldn’t help but laugh, waving her off with a sense of warmth. The energy around you was electric, pulsating with the rhythm of the beat as you lost yourself in the music, swaying to the melody and soaking in the vibrant atmosphere. The lights flickered overhead, casting playful shadows that danced alongside you, each pulse of the bass urging you to let go and enjoy the moment.

Suddenly, you felt a strong arm slide around your waist, pulling you back against a warm, familiar presence. Panic flared for an instant as you whipped around, your heart racing, only to come face-to-face with the very same smug grin that had lingered in your mind since the bathroom encounter.

“Hey, pretty,” Wooyoung murmured, leaning closer, his grip tightening slightly on your waist, pulling you closer towards him. A sigh of relief escaped you, and you playfully swatted his shoulder, feigning annoyance.

“Fuck Woo, you scared me,” you said, half-laughing, half-exasperated. He chuckled, the sound low and inviting, and leaned in to whisper a quick,

“Sorry,” his breath warm against your ear. Without another word, Wooyoung began to move, his body swaying charismatically to the beat of the music that pulsed through the room. The rhythm enveloped you both, and as he held onto your waist, you felt a wave of confidence wash over you. Encouraged by his presence, you began to move against him, letting the music guide your movements, each sway and shift bringing you closer together in an intoxicating dance that felt both thrilling and electric. You don’t care about the unlikely stares people may be giving you two as you move with Wooyoung. Everyone around you is too intoxicated and infatuated with their own lives. Leaving you carefree. You notice at the corner of your eye, the rest of ATZ made their way towards you and Wooyoung on the dance floor. Their high energy filled the house as they all began to dance skillfully and taking their turns moving with you.

As the night deepened, the lively atmosphere of the gathering drew you and ATZ into the kitchen, where the scent of snacks mingled with laughter. Half of the boys were unmistakably intoxicated, swaying on their feet and erupting into fits of giggles over seemingly random thoughts. The air was thick with a sense of camaraderie and carefree joy.

“Alright, it’s time to head home,” Hongjoong declared, his voice a bit slurred but filled with authority. He and Seonghwa took charge, attempting to wrangle the more inebriated members of the group. You watched as they gathered the staggering figures, their laughter echoing against the kitchen walls, a chorus of drunken revelry.

Stepping out into the cool night air, you felt Wooyoung’s arm casually drape over your shoulders. He leaned in close, a grin plastered across his face, his eyes gleaming with mischief. You couldn’t help but giggle in return, warmth spreading across your cheeks.

“Are you drunk, baby?” Wooyoung teased, laughter bubbling in his voice. You shook your head vigorously, a smile dancing on your lips.

“No, I just had a really fun time with you guys,” you replied, the sincerity of your words shining through the playful banter.

The walk to the ATZ house was a mix of lighthearted laughter and nonsensical chatter from the intoxicated boys, their voices rising and falling like the gentle breeze that swept through the night. With each step, the cool air seemed to sober them slightly, but their spirits remained high, buoyed by the camaraderie of the evening.

When you finally reached the front door of the ATZ house, the sight was almost comical. Hongjoong and Seonghwa struggled to keep Yeosang and Mingi upright, their attempts drawing laughter from Jongho and Wooyoung, who were busy trying to prevent Yunho’s tall figure from tripping over his own feet. San wobbled behind you, giggling uncontrollably at the chaos unfolding in front of him, and you couldn’t help but smile at the endearing mess of it all. Suddenly, San brushed past you, his hand casually touching your waist with an exaggerated flourish.

“Sorry, Y/N-ie~” he slurred, his cheeks flushed and eyes sparkling with mischief. Your heart raced at his unexpected gesture, and a soft laugh escaped your lips. Clearly, he was quite drunk. As he stumbled forward, his shoulder caught against the doorframe, sending you into a fit of quiet laughter.

In a split second, you watched in mild panic as San teetered, about to lose his balance. Without thinking, you rushed forward to catch him, your hands gripping his arm just as his larger figure fell against you. The two of you tumbled back, hitting the near by wall. His body trapping you.

The dimly lit hallway felt impossibly narrow as you stumbled backward, your head colliding sharply with the unforgiving wall. A yelp escaped your lips, a reflexive reaction to the pain, but it was quickly overshadowed by the sudden, chaotic tumble of San crashing down on you.

“Y—Y/N! Are you okay!?” His voice, slurred and heavy with intoxication, broke through the haze. San’s hands instinctively cupped your cheeks, his gaze searching yours with a mix of concern and confusion. His touch was warm, and the worry etched on his face caught you off guard, causing your heart to flutter unexpectedly.

His fingers moved to the back of your head, gently patting your hair as he pouted. You couldn’t suppress a small smile, amusement bubbling up despite the awkward situation. But then, just as quickly, his expression shifted. The pout deepened, and a single tear spilled down his cheek, glistening in the dim light.

“Why am I always hurting you…” he murmured, his voice a soft tremor of sorrow. Your eyes widen at the sudden switch in his mood. Before you could respond, his head slumped onto your shoulder, burying his face into the crook of your neck. You gasp at his suddenly closeness.

“S—San?” you whispered, the surprise evident in your voice.

“I’m sorry…” he mumbled, his words muffled against your skin, a confession filled with remorse.

“Sannie… it’s okay… I’m okay,” you replied soothingly, your fingers gently threading through his soft hair. You stood there for a moment, contemplating your next move. San’s tall frame leaned heavily against you, restricting any attempt to shift.

As if the universe had decided to intervene, a familiar voice called out, cutting through the tension. “Y/N?” Wooyoung’s voice echoed down the hall.

“Over here…” you responded quietly, not wanting to disrupt the fragile moment. Wooyoung appeared at the edge of your vision, and you could see the corners of his mouth twitch as he struggled to contain a laugh at the sight of you two.

“Woo, please! I think he’s asleep,” you urged, waving him over urgently. “Hurry, he’s slipping!” You felt the panic rise as San’s body began to lean dangerously, and Wooyoung sprang into action, securing San’s arm over his shoulder.

“Alright, let’s go, Sannie,” Wooyoung whispered, a mix of amusement and determination in his voice as he began to navigate the staircase. You followed closely behind, unable to suppress a giggle at the absurdity of the situation.

“Holy shit, San, you muscled up so much. You’re fucken heavvvvyyyy!” Wooyoung whined, his grunts echoing as he heaved San upward, inch by inch.

“Urrrrggghhh—Y/N?” San groaned, stirring slightly as he registered the movement around him.

“I’m your bestie, Wooyoung,” Wooyoung shot back sarcastically, barely containing a laugh.

“Where’s Y/NNNNN~” San whined, his body starting to tilt away from Wooyoung’s grip. Your heart raced as you quickly moved to San’s side, wrapping an arm around his waist to steady him.

“I’m right here, San,” you said softly, offering reassurance as you held him close.

San tilted his head towards you, his flushed cheeks glowing even in the low light. His eyes, barely open, locked onto yours, and a small smile spreads across his face.

“Y/N~ I was looking for you~” he giggled, the sound pure and infectious.

You exchanged a glance with Wooyoung, both of you sharing a moment of disbelief before erupting into quiet laughter, the kind that echoed softly in the empty hallway, tinged with warmth and affection.

Finally reaching San’s room, you and Wooyoung maneuver carefully to lay him gently on the bed. The moment San’s body sinks into the mattress, both of you let out a collective sigh of relief, the tension of the night’s chaos starting to dissipate. Wooyoung adjusts San’s position, rolling him slightly onto his side, and then throws a blanket over him.

He glances around the small room, his eyes landing on the trash can in the corner. With a swift motion, he grabs it and places it right by San’s face, ensuring it’s within easy reach should he need it. You can’t help but smile at Wooyoung’s thoughtful gesture.

“Finally,” Wooyoung exhales, turning to you with a relieved smile that lights up his features.

“Let’s go,” he whispers, reaching for your hand. You clasp his fingers tightly as you both quietly slip out of the room, the hallway dimly lit and serene. As you step into the quiet corridor, Wooyoung’s voice breaks the stillness.

“Stay here tonight. It’s already getting late.” He takes your purse from your hand, which you’d been clutching onto since you’ve entered their house.

“It’s okay, I’ll just call an Uber,” you reply, already fishing your phone out of your pocket.

Wooyoung’s expression shifts in disbelief. “You must think I’m stupid if you think I’m going to allow that,” he hisses, snatching your phone from your grip before you can unlock it. You pout in response, your playful defiance only making him chuckle.

In a surprising moment, he leans in and plants a quick kiss on your lips. The unexpected warmth sends a jolt of happiness through you, and you gasp, smiling wide as you playfully swat his shoulder.

“Come on, I’ll take you to the spare room,” he says, intertwining his fingers with yours as he begins to lead you down the hallway.

“Can I… just stay in your room tonight?” you ask softly, halting in your tracks. Wooyoung stops and raises an eyebrow, a teasing glint in his eyes.

“Hm, someone’s feeling naughty?” he quips, reaching for your waist and effortlessly throwing you over his shoulder. You let out a quiet surprised yelp. Trying to contain your laughter bubbling up as you hang on.

He strides toward his room, the door swinging open before he quickly shuts it behind him, the sound echoing in the cozy space.

“Woo! I’m not trying to do anything yet!” you giggle, tapping his shoulder playfully to signal him to let you down. “I just didn’t want to be alone,” you add with a mock pout as he finally places you back on the floor.

“I know, I know. I’m just teasing, baby,” Wooyoung replies softly, his gaze lingering on you as he cups your face. For a moment, you both stand in silence, soaking in the peace that feels like a welcome reprieve after the night’s chaos.

Then, leaning in, he presses a warm kiss to your lips, and you feel a flutter of warmth spread through you. “I’ll bring you some face wipes and clothes to change into,” he whispers against your lips before stealing one last soft kiss and turning to leave.

You watch him go, feeling a rush of affection as the door clicks shut behind him, leaving you in the quiet comfort of his room. You stepped softly into Wooyoung's room, the air filled with the faint scent of his cologne. You made your way to his bed, sinking into the plush mattress that seemed to envelop you in warmth. Your gaze wandered around the space, taking in the carefully arranged yet slightly chaotic collection of items: clothes draped over a chair, shoes scattered on the floor, and a desk cluttered with notes and trinkets. Framed photographs adorned the walls and the nightstand, capturing joyful moments of him with his family. A smile tugged at your lips as you recognized the love radiating from those images.

A moment later, Wooyoung returned with a pack of face wipes and a cup of water. “Here you go,” he hands them to you and headed toward his closet. As you began to wipe away your makeup, you could hear the rustle of fabric and the soft clink of hangers. He emerged moments later, holding one of his oversized t-shirts and a pair of shorts.

“Here,” he said, locking eyes with you, a teasing glint in his gaze.

“Can you turn around so I can change?” you asked playfully.

“No,” he replied, laughter bubbling in his voice. You scoffed, trying to mask your embarrassment as he smirked at you, then finally turned to face the wall. With quick movements, you slipped into his clothes, the fabric soft and oversized, engulfing you in his scent.

“Okay, I’m done,” you announced, feeling a mix of nervousness and excitement. He turned back to you and smirks.

“Ooh, you look sexy in my clothes,” he teased, leaning against the wall, his smile wide and infectious.

You rolled your eyes, attempting to maintain an air of nonchalance, but you could feel the warmth creeping up your cheeks. Wooyoung was definitely the boldest of the group, never hesitating to voice his feelings.

Feigning indifference, you began to gather your hair into a messy bun, focusing on anything but him. But he was already at your side, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close. His gaze was intense as he studied your features, each detail seemingly etched into his mind. When his eyes drifted down to your neck, they widened in surprise.

“Did I do that?” he asked, gently turning your head to examine the faint red mark lingering on your skin.

“Who else could’ve done it?” you shot back, sarcasm lacing your words.

“Hm, I don’t know. Maybe Yunho did yesterday on the kitchen counter?” Wooyoung teased, brushing his thumb over the mark. You gasped, caught off guard by his sudden revelation.

“He told you that?!” you hissed, mortified.

“He told all of us,” he giggled, a mischievous glint in his eye. You sighed, shaking your head. Typical boy conversations. You should have felt embarrassed, but amusement washed over you instead.

“This is from you, Woo. I saw it once you left the bathroom,” you replied, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Hmm, that’s good,” he said with a smirk.

“Come on, let’s go to bed,” he said, leading you toward the mattress. You plopped down, your heart racing as you caught him lifting his shirt. Heat flooded your cheeks.

“Oh, sorry, I can’t sleep with a shirt on…” he said casually.

“I—It’s okay,” you stuttered, sinking deeper into the mattress, your pulse quickening. Wooyoung tossed his shirt to the corner of the room, leaving him in nothing but shorts and a gold chain that glinted in the soft light. He plopped down next to you, a playful smile on his face.

“Come here,” he whispered, opening his arm. Hesitating for a moment, you scooted closer, a wave of comfort washing over you as you nestled into his embrace. You exhaled in satisfaction, feeling safe and warm against his chest. Wooyoung chuckled, tightening his hold, and together, you closed your eyes, drifting toward sleep.

“Wooyoung?” you whispered after a while.

“Hmmm?” He hummed, his eyes still closed.

“When did you start liking me?” You began to fiddle with his necklace, feeling the weight of the moment. Wooyoung shifted, his face aligning with yours, a soft smile playing on his lips.

“You want to know?” he asked, his voice teasing yet sincere.

You nodded, your curiosity piqued.

“As cliché as it sounds, I fell for you at first sight,” he confessed, his expression earnest. “With no conversation or interaction. But the moment I saw you, I knew I wanted you to be mine.” He chuckled softly, rubbing his nose against yours, and you couldn’t help but giggle in response.

“Really?” you asked, wide-eyed.

“Mhmm.” He tucked a stray hair behind your ear, admiring your face as if it were a masterpiece. “I know I have a reputation for being a flirt, but I’m just nice to everyone, and they take it the wrong way. But I seriously, seriously only like you,” he declared, his voice steady and warm as he hugged you tighter.

At Wooyoung's confession, a warmth spread through your chest, making your heart swell with emotion. His words lingered in the air, wrapping around you like a soft blanket, filling you with a sense of belonging that felt almost surreal. You glanced up at him, your eyes shimmering with unspoken feelings, but he seemed lost in his own world, a contented smile on his lips.

As the gentle rhythm of his breathing filled the room, you felt a wave of tranquility wash over you. The atmosphere was cocooned in warmth and safety. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a golden hue across his features, illuminating the relaxed lines of his face, and you couldn’t help but admire him.

With each passing moment, your eyelids grew heavier, the comforting weight of sleep pulling you down. You nestled deeper into his embrace, savoring the feeling of his strong arms wrapped protectively around you. The scent of his cologne, a mix of warmth and spice, enveloped you, adding to your sense of comfort.

As you surrendered to the heaviness in your limbs, you allowed yourself to drift into a peaceful slumber. The world outside faded away, leaving only the sound of Wooyoung’s soft breathing—a steady, soothing cadence that lulled you into a state of blissful rest.

———

The morning sun poured into Wooyoung’s room, its golden rays breaking through the curtains, casting a warm glow over everything it touched. You stirred awake, your body instinctively familiar with this early hour. As you turned, your gaze landed on Wooyoung, who lay beside you, deeply asleep, his arm draped over your waist. His tousled hair framed his face, and you couldn’t help but smile at the sight of him, peaceful and serene.

You stretched your arms above your head, feeling the pleasant pull of your muscles. Wooyoung shifted slightly at your movement, letting out a soft groan before instinctively cuddling closer, burying his face into your side. You chuckled softly, the sound escaping your lips before you could stifle it. "Woo~ I need to use the bathroom," you murmured, trying to extricate yourself from his embrace.

He whined in protest, tightening his hold on you. His breath warm tickled against your skin as he nuzzled deeper into you.

You giggled again, a light, airy sound that filled the room. “Come on, I really need to go!”

He looked up at you with sleepy eyes, a playful smirk on his lips. “Should we go make out in there instead?” he suggested, leaning in to place soft kisses along your neck, igniting a flutter of laughter from you.

“Stop~” you squealed, trying to wriggle free. Finally, after a playful struggle, you managed to slip from his grasp and make your way to the bathroom.

After taking care of business, you brush your teeth with a spare toothbrush. You felt a sense of vitality wash over you. Instead of heading back to the cozy confines of Wooyoung’s room, you found yourself wandering into the kitchen, drawn by the promise of breakfast. As you opened the fridge, the sight of it reminded you of the boys' antics from the night before. You could already imagine their groans of hangover misery.

Determined to help, you decided on making Beef Short Rib Soup, a classic remedy that would surely bring them back to life. As you moved around the kitchen, chopping vegetables and seasoning the meat, you felt a serene comfort in the rhythmic motions. The scent of the simmering broth enveloped you, and you lost track of time, relishing the moment.

Suddenly, strong arms wrapped around your waist, pulling you back against a firm chest. You gasped softly at the unexpected embrace and turned to see Seonghwa, his face still adorned with sleep. His hair fell over his forehead, framing his gentle features, and that smile of his—so perfect and disarming—made your heart skip a beat.

“Good morning, pretty,” he said, his voice raspy with sleep, sending a shiver down your spine.

“Good morning, Hwa,” you replied, a giggle escaping as he pulled you into a warm embrace. He rocked you gently, as if savoring the moment, and you melted into him, feeling utterly content.

“You didn’t have to cook, Y/N,” he said as he pulled away, his expression softening even more.

You shook your head, a smile brightening your face. “No, I wanted to. I hope you don’t mind I used what I found in the fridge,” you hastily added, suddenly feeling a bit shy.

“No, no, we don’t mind at all. Thank you, though,” Seonghwa said, a genuine smile lighting up his features as he ruffled your hair affectionately.

“Do you need help?” he asked, glancing around the kitchen, taking in the scattered ingredients and simmering pot.

“Hmm, no, I’m basically finished. Just waiting on the rice to finishing cook,” you replied, moving to grab some plates and utensils. Seonghwa turned towards you with a soft grin.

“Okay, I’ll go wake everyone up.” Before you could respond, he leaned in and planted a quick, unexpected kiss on your cheek. Your eyes widened in surprise, a warm flush creeping up your cheeks as you turned your head to face him, a soft smile spreading across your lips. He winked at you, his laughter echoing as he dashed up the stairs.

You took a moment to collect yourself, still tingling from the kiss, before focusing on the task at hand. The aroma of breakfast filled the air as you began plating the food, carefully arranging the steaming soup into nine bowls, each portion equally generous. With a satisfied nod, you moved towards the coffee machine, the gentle gurgle of brewing coffee providing a comforting backdrop. You watched intently as the rich, dark liquid flowed into the mug, filling your senses with warmth. Once the machine beeped, you leaned against the counter, taking a sip and savoring the bittersweet taste. Just then, Seonghwa returned downstairs, a sigh escaping his lips.

“Well, I tried to wake them up. Let’s just see who actually listens,” he chuckled, making his way towards you. You smiled, the warmth in your chest spreading further at his lighthearted demeanor.

“Do you want some coffee?” you asked, lifting your mug to your lips once more. Seonghwa shook his head, stepping closer and wrapping his arms around your waist, drawing you nearer. He gently lifted your mug and set it on the counter behind you. He studies your facial features for a while.

“Is it okay if I kiss you?” His voice was soft, almost shy. You felt your heart race at the question, and without hesitation, you nodded. A tender smile spread across his face as he leaned in, pressing his lips against yours in the softest kiss you’d ever experienced. Butterflies danced in your stomach, and you melted against him as he cupped your face with one hand, deepening the kiss ever so slightly before pulling back. His thumb brushed over your cheek in a tender gesture.

“Can I get a morning kiss too?” a voice interrupted from the kitchen doorway, breaking the spell. You turned to see Jongho, looking adorably disheveled, his hair a mess, hiding in his hoodie and his eyes squinted against the brightness of the morning.

“Good morning, Jongho” you greeted, unable to suppress a giggle at his sleepy state. He shuffled over, trying to maintain a serious expression but failing as a small smile tugged at his lips.

“Good morning, darling,” he replied, his voice still thick with sleep. You pouted your lips playfully and tiptoed up to him, watching as a blush crept across his cheeks. Despite his efforts to appear composed, he leaned down and pressed a quick peck to your lips, making you smile wider.

As you released him, you took his hand and led him to the table, where you settled him beside Seonghwa. One by one, the other boys began trickling down the stairs, all looking equally exhausted from the night before. Each of them paused as they passed by you, planting quick kisses on your forehead or cheek, leaving you blushing and smiling at their affectionate gestures.

“Is San still asleep?” Seonghwa asked the group, glancing around. The boys shrugged, too preoccupied with their breakfast to offer much help.

“I’ll go check on him, keep eating” you insisted, raising from your seat.

You made your way upstairs, knocking lightly on San’s door. When there was no answer, you twisted the knob and stepped inside.

“San? Come eat. I made breakfast,” you called softly, but as you entered the room, San was nowhere to be found. You get distracted, finding yourself looking around his room. Your gaze drifted to his desk, where a photo caught your attention: it was from your middle school graduation, the two of you beaming with joy. A rush of nostalgia flooded over you, warmth spreading through your chest.

“What are you doing in my room?” The sudden voice made you jump, and you whipped around, a wave of heat rushing to your cheeks. Standing before you was San, fresh from the shower, his hair damp and tousled, his bare chest glistening slightly in the morning light. He wore only a white towel around his waist, and you couldn’t help but admire the sight for a moment longer than you intended.

“O-oh, um. I just wanted to tell you to come eat,” you stammered, quickly averting your gaze to the floor, your heart racing. San closed the door behind him, and your eyes widened at the sound.

“Okay, let me change—” he began, but you interjected hastily.

“Ah, let me go out so you can change!” You felt flustered, not wanting to intrude.

“No, stay. I’ll be quick. We can go together,” he replied, walking past you to his closet. You couldn’t help but steal a glance at his back, noticing the way his shoulders were broad and strong. (Y/N, chill) you scolded yourself internally, turning away to focus on the door.

“Should I take my time to change so you can stare longer?” San teased, his voice light as he pulled a T-shirt over his head.

“N-No…” you muttered, still facing the door, leaning your forehead against the wood and closing your eyes, trying to steady your racing heart.

“You okay, baby?” His deep chuckle sent a shiver down your spine, and you opened your eyes to find him fully clothed, watching you with an amused expression. You felt your face heat up as you nodded, wondering if he remembered the moments from the night before. Drunk San was sweet and clingy, a side of him that made your heart swell, while sober San was a mystery, his cool demeanor both intimidating and alluring.

“Let’s go eat,” he said, reaching for your hand and intertwining your fingers. You let him lead you downstairs, your heart fluttering with every step.

end of chapter 4…

Next chapter

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Author’s commentary: Goddamn there was so much damn fluff in this chapter🤭. Please, I promise the build up will be worth it iykwim. Thank you all so much for the support! Comment or message me to be apart of the taglist! Scream in my ask box to fangirl! lots of loveeee <3

taglist:

@georgeanabanana @jaytheatiny @mxnsxngie @spenceatiny18 @sanhwalvr @highkeyinlovewithhanjisung @joongscheese @therealcuppicake @velvetskize @hongjoongtime117 @jintastic-yuyu @meiguessss @sookacc @starygw3n @dimeb29 @mingtinysworld @sweetinsaniiity @pixie0627 @uninterested-ghost @ghostlovesworld @tigerlillytaffy @stay-tiny-things @xdinarymango @huachengsbestie01 @wooyoungsbrat @woohwastuff @vtyb23 @bambbiisworld @hwxbibi @cherryynoir @katykatmeow @laviedemamere @wyrated @sparda1234

[yandere-sins]

Just saw your greek god works and they're top notch! Could you do something with yan Apollo? There's just soooo much stuff to work with with him... Thanks!

Thank you for requesting!! I love writing about them ^-^

»»———————— ♡ ————————««

Very little could speak more about your skills than a personal invite to present them at Olympus.

The morning Apollo arrived in his golden chariot was an exceptionally bright one. Naturally, because his body emanated the rays of sun that broke through your window, his radiant smile widening on his youthful face the second you stepped out of your hut. Your mother was crying—tears of joy as you realized when she hugged you tightly, telling you how proud she was. Even your father seemed choked up when he told you you were special.

So, as you finally stood before the handsome stranger, the god whose shrine you visited regularly, you were utterly speechless, overcome with emotions you couldn't place. You could only listen as he spoke to you, his voice silken like the soft breeze on a summer's day yet as cheerful as the anticipation for an exciting festival.

"I want you to play," he made his intentions known, his hand falling to the side of your head, letting a lock of hair glide through the gaps in his fingers. His touch was warm and gentle, beyond anything you expected an immortal to feel like. "For us, for me."

"It would be an honor," you honestly muttered back after your mother urged you with a slight push, reminding you not to be rude to the god who was blessing you with such good fortune. Most people were honored in war, because of their devotion to their deity, in the pursuit of knowledge, or in death. To be chosen solely for your lyre play was rare, and you felt overwhelmed with gratitude, tears filling your eyes.

Apollo smiled, promising to come back in a mere three days time. Not enough to memorize all the songs you wanted to play, but while your parents packed you a small bag with the essentials and exempted you from your duties on their farm while making sure you were fed and clean, you kept practicing your craft until your fingers were raw and bloody. Apollo had assured you that there was no perfection in music. Still, you wouldn't have been able to endure the shame of hitting the wrong note to a song everyone knew—even the gods. And so you practiced, day and night, until finally, it was time to leave.

That morning was colder yet auspicious. So many burdens weighed on your shoulders—your performance, bringing honor to your family and yourself, the payment you heard your parents whisper about. There had always been food on the table for your big family, but you noticed their excitement when they talked about the boon that the gods would give you for performing well. You gulped nervously as you fiddled with the newly strung lyre in your hand when, with loud neighs and the warmth of a sunny day washing over you, Apollo arrived. When he smiled at you, you couldn't help but grin back, excited for this day, his brilliant mood instantly captivating yours.

You bid your parents farewell as they wished you a good performance and safe travels. They waved after you as the heavenly chariot took off into the morning sky, announcing another beautiful day. You got to stand close to the sun god as he performed his duty, chatting carefreely about how excited he was to hear you play and how everyone was expecting you eagerly. It made you nervous, but being close to him, his arm around you to keep you secured, Apollo's presence made your worries simply melt away. You could have never seen yourself as his equal, but he didn't make you feel any less than a friend.

He took his time cruising you through the sky, showed you the magnificent temples of the gods, let you taste the richest grapes the land had to offer, and took you to places that most humans wouldn't see in the span of multiple lifetimes. Always with a hand outstretched to help you step down from or into his chariot, and watchful eyes looking out for you. You learned a lot that day, the excursion long but magical, especially with a god by your side as your guide. To him, it must have been boring stuff that he saw every day, but to you, it became the most incredible day of your life very quickly.

Until you were brought before the entrance to the Olymp, that is.

Chariot parked, you could still feel Apollo standing behind you, protectively but encouragingly. His frame towered massively next to you, cutting you off from the human world behind his radiant form. The sun was setting, leaving you with a chill. But perhaps you were only imagining it, your performance anxiety rising. His warm hand gently pressed into the small of your back, urging you with determination to step ahead and face the rest of the pantheon of gods that had collected, to play them the songs you had come for.

With weak knees, you took one step in front of the other, Apollo always by your side. He ensured you wouldn't falter as all eyes in the grand hall seemed to turn towards you the moment you stepped through the entrance. There were all kinds of eyes—wise and godly and mythical. But you were more surprised by the human ones, tired ones, downright exhausted ones that raised to watch you. Their presence felt out of place, but then again, so did yours. However, there was something deeply unsettling in the dullness of their eyes, the sloppy movements as they walked around the hall, seemingly without vigor, their stares the only reaction to your arrival contrasting starkly with the boisterous and booming voices of the immortals greeting you.

"Apollo, is this your new charge?" a faun asked, curiously eyeing you and your lyre. "Your new songbird, eh?"

Apollo laughed, waving off the comments from all sides as he moved you forward, guiding you through gods and servants alike, their hands reaching out, touching you, admiring you. You couldn't help but startle at the different sensations of these touches—cold, sharp, unnatural. It made you cling to Apollo more, his presence way more comforting, and although he had grown in size—appearing mighty godly now—he made sure that his arm stayed around you like a shield.

One dull-eyed human after another tried to serve you food and drinks that you declined respectfully. It was hard enough to keep up with the pressure, and you didn't have the stomach for any kind of intake—at least not until you were done. And with Apollo's urging, you didn't stick around to talk to them or even watch them, although you felt their eyes drill into your back.

You were led to the seats at the very top of the grand hall, guided to the ones at the side which were vividly red with golden threads. Sitting down on them was like sinking into a cloud as Apollo helped you up, lowering you down gently. The surrounding lounges and pillows on the floor were quickly filled with eager eyes looking up at you, waiting for your play just like your patron god had promised them. You couldn't help but look around, cross eyes with some of the nymphs and minor goddesses and gods that you probably had heard from but were never educated on properly.

But the gathered gods were easily recognizable by their trademarks—Dionysus, Athena, Aphrodite, and Artemis, just to name a few of them—and you were surprised to see them keeping one or more humans by their sides, looking very different from the ones you had seen before. These ones were clothed and prepared with great care, love, and devotion to their god. Their cheeks were plump, and they smiled when their patron spoke to them, albeit hesitantly. However, the unsettling feeling you got from the dull-eyed ones before didn't vanish as you watched these devoted humans. Something about their posture and expressions didn't match the festivities. They looked uncomfortable, and some of them even sad.

"It is time," Apollo spoke softly beside you, his voice gentle but intent. This was his party, and you were the special performance; of course, he didn't want you to be distracted and unable to play. His touch tore you out of your observations. It drew your attention back to him, strong fingers wrapping around your shoulders, squeezing you encouragely, but it was almost a little hurtful. You nodded, thankful he didn't make you look incompetent in front of everyone, and his grip softened in satisfaction, although it didn't disappear. Still, you couldn't help the anxiety from rising, your mouth dry, and your fingers jittery. Even when you tried to calm yourself, you couldn't entirely focus, panic rising inside you.

Now that you had come so far, you couldn't fail.

A hearty and a beautiful laugh rang out from your side, Dionysus and Aphrodite exchanging knowing looks before the goddess handed one of her humans a golden chalice and encouraged them to get up. "Go," she chimed, and her stunningly beautiful charge sauntered their way over to you, handing you the chalice. They were undeniably beautiful, even when clothed in the simplest garments. But their gaze was unblinking as they handed over the cup. "Don't," they hissed sharply in a whisper, their eyes flitting to Apollo for just a second, and you felt his fingers dig into your skin before the human left you again, trotting quickly and without a detour back to Aphrodite's side. The goddess patted their head before returning her attention to you, gesturing for you to drink. "To your nerves, you ray of sunshine," Dionysus laughed merrily, and everyone raised their chalices in a toast.

You nervously crossed eyes with the human that brought you the drink, seeing their expression hardening in a deep frown unbecoming of their beauty. Then you looked to Apollo, his own cup raised to his lips, but he had yet to drink from it. He observed you from the corners of his eyes, smiling when he noticed you looking back. "It's just a little bit of wine," he reassured you, assuming you were unsure if it was okay to drink.

You nodded, feeling pressured not to refuse the gods' hospitality, and raised the chalice to your mouth to take a tentative sip. It wasn't more than two gulps before you set it down, letting it be taken away by a nymph that sat at your feet. Immediately, the tension became lighter, your worries melting away, especially when Apollo drew you closer to his body, his warmth seeping into you. He steadied you for your play, letting you lean on him as much as you needed. With all the pressure and anxiety you had felt, you had almost forgotten that playing the lyre was fun. That you enjoyed doing it, and practiced hard enough to even perform before the gods. With the first chord echoing through the hall, all the tension finally left your body.

It was glorious.

Gods and humans alike sang along to the well-known songs you had picked; they listened when you added nuances to your play, and some of them got cozy with each other, cuddling and kissing as you presented them with the romantic notes everyone adored. By the time your hands were tired, fingers roughed up by the strings, and your concentration fading, everyone was in awe and satisfied with your performance, gods clapping their hands and cheering at you as you finished.

However, you immediately looked up at Apollo, greeted by his radiant smile beaming down at you. His hand raised to pat your head as he announced you as the magnificent talent of the night. The relief mixing with pride swelled in your chest, heating your cheeks as you took some humble bows, smothered in the cheers. Another cup was handed to you, and after performing for so long, you were glad to wet your throat.

Most of the night was spent talking to eager fans of music, letting them play your lyre, and hearing their own songs. Drinks would be passed to you, food almost shoved into your mouth by the merry folks, and you laughed along with them over their silliness. You felt lighter than ever before, so caught up in the moment and with the alcohol only adding towards the sense of mirth. The mystics were as playful and cheery as they had always been described, but you knew it would only be for that night, so you enjoyed their company.

Apollo wouldn't leave your side even as gods approached him, congratulating him for finding such a treasure amongst the humans and asking if he'd let them "take" you for their celebrations sometimes. You didn't get to hear his answers as your attention was drawn away by humans joining in with the conversations, telling you about their boons and how they were accepted into Olympus. They were all extraordinary people, and you felt quite small next to them. But they didn't make you feel unwelcome in their midst, and you were glad to hear about their experiences. Nymphs would braid everyone's hair, decorating them with flowers, fauns were playing around, everything seemed like the perfect idylle that all humans imagined the lives of gods to be.

"You shouldn't agree if they ask you to stay," the human beside you suddenly whispered. She was a cute, dainty woman, a follower of Artemis clothed in silver and pelts. Immediately, her hair was yanked back as one of the nymphs hissed at her. You caught the words 'insolent' and 'behave', but others crowded around you so fast, talking over the two and asking you questions as that woman was taken away, so you were forced to shift your attention.

It wasn't until you felt a warm hand graze over your back that you looked up at Apollo again, his gaze very gentle. He seemed satisfied with how the evening went. He might have even held some affection for you after the performance, which put him in good graces with everyone. Relief flooded your senses, and you bit back a yawn as exhaustion suddenly crashed into you, taking hold in your body.

"Are you tired?" he asked, and suddenly, you couldn't hold back the signs in front of him. You had kept it together so well, but you figured that playing for hours, talking for even longer, and drinking the sweet, fruity wine was coming back to haunt you now. Leaning into his comforting touch, you gave him a small nod and he understood, standing up and helping you get to your feet.

There were lots of disappointed aws and ohs at the announcement of your departure, nymphs and fauns seeing you off and waving after you as Apollo brought you back to his chariot, your legs even weaker now than when you entered the Olymp full of anxiety. No human came to see you off, but you barely registered that in your tired mind. Instead, you put on a smile and waved back at everyone after getting on the chariot.

"Did you have fun?" Apollo asked as he urged his horses to go. The night had long set, yet you two moved across the sky like a shooting star in the darkness.

"A lot," you confirmed. "This was an amazing experience; I am very grateful to you for this opportunity! Although it makes me sad that it is already over."

You could hear your own words slurred by the intoxication and exhaustion, yet you managed to form a tired smile for him. Apollo stepped closer, helping you stay upright as he urged his horses forward before returning your smile.

"It doesn't have to end," he hummed cheerfully, not a hint of tiredness in his demeanor. "You could play for us every night. Party with everyone, be merry. Would you like that?"

You chuckled at his suggestion but shook your head as you looked out into the night sky, stars passing you by at a speed that made them look like the shooting stars.

"It was a lot of fun, but I got to go home. My parents need my help on the farm, even if I love playing the lyre."

Apollo hummed thoughtfully, and you felt closer and closer to sleep as his warmth enveloped you. You only realized you had dozed off when you felt the soft thud of the chariot landing beneath your feet, followed by two hands guiding you off it. Your eyes fluttered open, but you were too tired to really do much but let yourself be picked up, nuzzling your face into Apollo's comforting warmth.

His steps were less gentle than his touches, his hold on you bouncy as if he was in a rush. The sounds around you turned from the peaceful night wind passing you by into complete silence, only his steps echoing as they hit marble floors. A rush of coldness threatened to envelop you, but Apollo pulled you closer to him, not letting the cold get near. You felt something reach out for you again, like the gods had, curious and uncaring of your privacy. It didn't feel familiar, your senses slowly reawakening, but something inside you seemed to want to keep you dormant for a while longer.

However, the feeling was interrupted when you were laid down into the softest cushions, with Apollo's warmth brushing over your head as you felt his weight dip the mattress you were on top of. Even with your drowsy mind, you knew you weren't in your own bed, concern rising. "Where are we?" you sighed, stretching your neck to receive more of his incredibly comforting warmth while a shiver ran down your spine. Why was it so unusually cold in this place, or had you just gotten too used to having Apollo's warmth around you that you only realized the shift in temperature now?

"Home," he answered your question, and you pried your eyes open, looking at the blurry, radiant form of the god sitting by your bedside. Then, slowly, every movement paired with so much discomfort, you let your head fall to the side, looking around at the vast darkness surrounding you. Not even Apollo's light could banish the pitch-black shadows all around you, and no sound penetrated the room.

" 's not my home..." you mumbled, brows furrowing, your deduction taking an awful lot of time. This place felt weird compared to all the wonderful ones you had visited. If this was his home, you had imagined it to be bright and beautiful, a golden palace of light and warmth. But instead, you feared for your little toes as the shadows seemed to reach out, wanting some of your warmth instead of giving it to you.

"It is now," he reassured you, sounding unusually stern even though his hand caressed you gently, brushing away your hair and cupping your cheek to turn your head towards him again.

"But my parents..."

"They knew the price they'd pay in this trade."

Leaning down, Apollo connected his forehead with yours, the depth of his eyes impalpable, especially in your muddled brain. You couldn't read him well, but he seemed... satisfied? He didn't seem to be ridden by confusion or worry like you were; rather, he was confident and calm. Something stirred in you, a sense of anxiety, but it was beaten down by a sweet-tasting tiredness immediately.

"Welcome home," he muttered, kissing your temples. "Catch some sleep so you can fulfill your duties to me tomorrow with the same brilliance as you did today. I'll be right here, making sure you are well-rested for your next performance, Sunshine."

"Duties?" you mumbled, already getting lulled back to sleep with his warmth now enveloping you like a blanket. You didn't hear his answer, even when you saw his lips move. Perhaps Apollo sang to you rather than spoke about what you wanted to know, but you wouldn't know.

You were plunged into the darkness of uncertainty, but even when you opened your eyes again, all that awaited you were more shadows that seemed to reach out for you. A sense of panic and unease spread throughout you, the uncertainty turning you into more of a wreck than you already felt after waking up with a splitting headache and no idea where you were.

It was no wonder that you immediately ran to Apollo when his light lit up the room. He gently wiped the tears from your face and assured you everything would be alright before pushing your lyre into your hands. You didn't even remember bringing it back from the Olymp, but he didn't seem to mind your carelessness.

"Now, play," he asked, and you gulped. You were barely awake, your fingers still hurt, and you were in an unfamiliar place that gave you the creeps.

"Here?" you asked, unsure as you looked around the depressing, dark room.

"Exactly here. Brighten up our home for me, will you? It's been too long since someone made it bearable to stay here. You won't disappoint me, right?"

"How... how did they do it? Will my playing be enough?"

"We'll see," Apollo said, gripping your arms tensely, his eyes glazing over with impatience.

"And if not?" you asked anxiously, unsure if a song could disperse the discomfort that seemed to reign in this home.

This time, Apollo hesitated, mouth opening briefly before his lips turned into a gentle smile. "Don't disappoint me, Sunshine. I can't stand this darkness and silence in my home anymore, and your parents assured me of how much life you could bring to any place. Seeing you perform before the gods, I immediately knew you could do it. You'll make this place a home again, one for us to live happily for the rest of our time. And if not..."

Letting go of your arms, Apollo stood up, turning around and heading for the door at the far side of the room. You wanted to follow him as the shadows lapped at you, but you felt glued to the floor, frozen in fear. With Apollo opening the door, you watched as the clouds passed by right outside, a complete drop into nothingness spreading out in front of this house, the chariot parked on seemingly no ground just outside of reach.

"If not, you'll learn what happened to the person before you that disappointed me," Apollo explained, not even pointing outside and towards the ground to make his crypticness make sense. "Play," he demanded. "Turn this place back into a home. Our home, Sunshine."

And with dread etched into your face, you strung the chords.

[ninikrumbs]

Somewhere in the multiverse

jjk men x fem reader. Suguru. Satoru. Kento. Hiromi.

"Need something, baby?"

The tone of his voice light and indulgent as it always was, not minding the happy distraction your presence brings.

Your head peaks from the doorway, a hesitant smile on your face as you watch you boyfriend work in his home office.

Shaking your head at his questioning haze, your cross the distance between you. He smiles fondly, realizing your intention, twisting his rolling chair a bit to the side to make space for you.

"Come here, pretty girl." He says when you draw near, pulling you down to plop down on his lap, arms immediately finding a home on your waist.

His familiar warmth and smell envelopes your senses imbuing your body with the affection and comfort you always craved from him. The contented noises you let out as you snuggle in the crook of his neck makes him chuckle in amusement, his gentle fingers tracing slow comforting circles down your back. "So my girl's just needy for me?"

You hum in response, looking absolutely cozy with your eyes closed, nose nuzzling his neck as you breath him in, hands resting on his chest.

His hands teasingly wander down your back to give your bum a light squeeze, not enough to startle you from you perfect position but enough to make you grumble, "Not that kind of needy."

With you lips right next to his neck, your breath tickles his skin. He huffs a laugh, "Oh, my bad. "

Not a hint of remorse in his voice though. His hands changes it course up to you hair, gently threading through it, making your eyes droop. You feel him press a kiss on the top of your head before resting his chin on it.

This is where you belong, you thought. At peace in his arms, away from the cruel horrors of the world even for just a moment. And you're r sure he shares you sentiment with how constantly he tries to shield you from the sometimes brutal realities he has to face.

If he could create a world where you would only know joy and happiness, he would. But Alas the monsters in this world constantly grow like weeds. The best he could do was to make sure they could never get to you. Not in this life or the next.

He hears you whisper his name and mumbling something he incoherent.

"What was that?"

"I said I feel bad for a version of me out there who doesn't have you."

He pulls away just a bit to look at your face, he wonders where you get such sudden and weird ideas yet he humors you regardless, "You don't have to worry your pretty little head about it."

"Why not?"

"Because," He raises your palm to his lips, placing a kiss filled with devotion, "I refuse to believe that there's a world where I don't have you. Any version of me won't allow it."

He says it with such conviction that it sounded like a fact, not an opinion or a thought and it makes you want to believe him.

Seemingly satisfied with his answer, you press youself flush against him once more, finding solace in his words and the beating heart underneath your hands.

"Now sleep, I'll wake you up once im done working some we can eat dinner together."

Your eyes flutter shut again and you fall asleep to the steady rhythm of his heart.

The next time you open your eyes it was to the dark cold ceiling of your bedroom. Your hands reach to the side, - searching, hoping, wishing -heart dropping as you merely felt the bitter emptiness of your comforter.

Sitting up on your bed, you look out of your window. The city lights blurred as hot tears clouded you vision. They fall rapidly down your cheeks, faster than you could wipe them away with your fists. Your throat clogging up with such gut wrenching emotion as you barely held back your sobs.

Your lips trembles, smiling bitterly, memories of another life running though the back of your head, "You're such a liar, you big dummy."

Suguru. Satoru. Kento. Hiromi.

a/n: should I make a happy part 2?

[38riku]

𝐁𝐃𝐀𝐘 𝐕𝐎𝐈𝐂𝐄𝐋𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐓.𝟑 ˗ˏˋ ꒰ 🎂 ꒱ ˎˊ˗

includes pomefiore (separately). no warnings. fluff. i should've did this by dorm but i didn't think i'd make more than one part.

read part one. part two.

𝐕𝐈𝐋 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐄𝐍𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐓

you've come to wish me a happy birthday? heh, as you should. come, sing my praises now that my beauty has been tempered by another year of age.

it isn't unordinary for Vil to receive compliments. he's cemented himself in the limelight and his adoring fans never fail to comment on his beauty and talent.

so, when he jokingly (not so jokingly) asked you to sing his praises, he expected a sarcastic "your perfection is unattainable" or something along those lines.

but, of course, you managed to surprise him.

"you deserve everything your heart desires." what a cheesy line. it was a staple in romance movies that hasn't seemed to die out despite its repetition. he now knows why, albeit because it came from your lips and not that of someone just doing their job.

"and as your beauty matures each and every year, may your tenacity strengthen and elegant vigor continue to shine brightly."

Vil clicked his tongue, a ghost of a smile creeping on his face as he did his best to maintain his composure.

"I almost feel guilty that such heartfelt words are directed towards me and not a lover of yours."

You laughed, as if the thought of a lover was unbelievable. If only you were aware of the many admirers after your tender heart, would you still find it amusing?

"Don't be silly Vil. You're the fairest of them all, the only one worthy of these words."

You had him stumped. The way you said such things as if they held little to no weight.

For a moment, being the fairest of them all wasn't appealing. He is the fairest in your eyes, which amounted to more than you could ever imagine.

𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐊 𝐇𝐔𝐍𝐓

merci! your dulcet tones are the greatest gift I could receive. you may consider your sentiments most appreciated.

rook was satisfied with your simple 'happy birthday' although it wasn't so simple to him. your smile was blinding, genuine glee filling your eyes as you greeted him with more joy than usual. to think the day of his birth elicited such excitement.

"i hope you like your present."

"any gift from you is a priceless treasure my dear. the mere fact that your thoughts were captivated by me makes my heart flutter."

he adored your flustered expression but wasn't interested in teasing you too much today. opening the large box, he audibly gasped at the sight. "you've truly outdone yourself. i am undeserving of such a magnificent piece."

he inspected the hat, humming in satisfaction at the handiwork and embroidery. a small chuckled fell from his lips as he heard your gentle sigh of relief.

walking toward you, he removed his usual hat and placed it on your head, wearing the new one it its stead. "we make a magnificent pair, do we not? even with a piece as fine as this my beauty is lackluster to yours."

"it's your birthday rook. i should be the one complementing you, not the other way around."

he laughed at that. your compassion and generosity made his heart soar to heights unknown.

"your beauty deserves to be appreciated no matter the occasion. your presence alone fills me with comfort. you have a voice that is sweeter than the chase of a hunt. i am inclined to speak on your physical appearance, but, I am unsure that you'd be able to handle such honeyed words."

after all the time you've known one another you still weren't used to his flattery. it's not his fault, you were positively stunning in every aspect of the word.

it's his day of celebration after all, and he'll spend it as he sees fit. surely you will allow him to fawn over you? he can't think of a better way to spend his birthday.

𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐋 𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐑

you, ah, you want to celebrate my birthday? s-sorry, I'm not used to hearing that from anyone other than close family. thanks.

"tada! happy birthday!"

you removed your hands from his eyes, moving to stand in front of him with a knowing smile. "a feast fit for the birthday boy. well, a meal, since it's just the two of us."

yes, just the two of you. that's probably why his usually strict house warden was a bit more lenient with him missing an etiquette lesson.

hopefully he didn't think it was something more than two friends sharing a meal. that's all there is to it, right?

"thanks! this looks amazing."

"remember that takeout i shared with you and the guys not too long ago? it's the same place. i figured since you liked it so much we can try more stuff!"

golly, weren't you just a ball of sunshine. if he was to thank ace and deuce for anything (which isn't much) meeting you would be top on the list.

he couldn't remember the last time he was able to enjoy the simple pleasures in life like cheeseburgers, chicken tenders, fries, onion rings; but boy was it the most fulfilling meal of his life.

spending the evening with someone close to him, eating, joking around, and enjoying each other's company. you might not think it's much, but, the time you shared cured his home sickness, even for a little while.

it was his first time celebrating his birthday away from home after all.

"one more surprise." you place a finger on your lips, winking, before disappearing in the kitchen.

in your absence, he did his best to calm his beating heart. you laid it on thick and didn't even know it! don't you know where he's from, a meal is a way to a man's heart?

did you know that? was this a cover for blatantly pursuing him? no, there's no way, just wishful thinking on his end.

his thoughts came to a halt as you reappeared with a singular piece of pie in your hands and a candle. placing it in front of him, you quickly lit it, and ushered him to make a wish.

usually, he wishes for the same thing every year, but, just this once, he wished for something utterly selfish. something that, when he blowed the candle, he looked toward you sheepishly, denying to tell you because it "wouldn't come true."

one day it'll come true. one day, he'll be the apple of your eye, and sweep you off your feet.

© 2024 — 38riku. Do not copy or repost or plagiarize my work. All Rights Reserved.