#I suck at drawing benches I noticed

[animunitee]

I've barely finished the game one way and still know basically nothing about the lore, but if I know anything then it's that I really like this guy. Quirrel is just a good vibe. Generally Hollow Knight is such a vibe I love that game-

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[coffee-and-geto]

“WILL MY EXQUISITE MORTAL LET ME BE HER FIRST BITE?”

“I can’t give you an Edward Cullen but I can be the vampire of your fantasies. So will you accept me, my love?”

pairing: vampire! suguru geto x f!reader | kinkoctober m.list

summary: it is at tokyo university, during a foggy month of october, with a soft, chilling rain falling drearily, that autumn gloomily settles over all the students. you are a biology student — a true passion for you. but aside from the precious time you spend with your eye glued to a microscope, observing cells, your nightly dreams of a noble vampire whisking you away from this life to spiral with you in a bewitching dance — much like edward cullen would — seem to be coming true. especially when your new lab partner, suguru geto, appears to be anything but one of the common folk…

warnings: +18 MDNI, smut, nsfw, AU no curses, suguru and reader are students in biology, some scenes are inspired from the volume 1 of the twilight saga, dark academia vibes (kinda), fall mood, slight angst, gojo and choso makes an appearance, gojo is also a vampire, friends to lovers, suguru is a gentleman, human/vampire relationship, nightmare, mention of alcohol (it’s beer), blood sucking, handjob (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), cowgirl, overstimulation, sex (p in v), oral (f + m), blood kink (well, i think so...), voice kink.

wc: 10,759 (i’ve missed writing long fics haha)

A mortal life can be so dull, can’t it?

While vampires, they get to live eternally, without worrying about time or dying. Not only are they blessed with breathtaking beauty, but they’re also quick, with vision sharper than an eagle’s, and they remember forever what they read.

That would come in handy for many, wouldn’t it, dear reader?

Or maybe, having a vampire boyfriend, like in books and series? Is it always asking for too much…

“You’re reading Twilight?”

The question, almost whispered near your temple, makes you jump on the bench in the lecture hall where you’re sitting, and you nearly drop Volume 1 of your favorite vampire saga. His breath is icy, enough to send a chill of goosebumps over the entirety of your skin. At least, October’s biting wind has a rival…

You quickly look up at a student around your age, who sits in the seat next to you, a smirk stretching across his perfectly thin lips. The beauty of this stranger becomes blinding.

Is such supernatural beauty even allowed?

With long strands of black hair brushing his shoulders, alabaster skin, deep obsidian eyes, and a physique perfectly balanced between lean and muscular, your mouth falls open in indiscreet amazement. And he has probably noticed, as the corner of his mouth stretches even further.

He knows he’s beautiful. Is he using it to his advantage? You half hope he is.

“Yes,” you answer simply, your eyes still fixed on him as he pulls out his things. “You recognized it?”

He raises an amused eyebrow. “A classic of vampire literature, isn’t it? How could I not?”

His remark warms your heart in a strange way. “Oh, I don’t know. I rarely meet guys who’ve read the same books as me.” Your gaze drifts over the lower rows of the lecture hall. “I expected you to bring up the movies.”

“I did watch the movies, but I read the books first. You know what they say about that.” His velvety tone draws your attention, and surprisingly, his gaze remains fixed on you.

There’s this light that animates his irises — like a smile.

“Is that why you took biology classes?” he continues, breaking your silence. You furrow your brows. “I mean, it’s the place where Bella and Edward first meet, right?” He chuckles at your still-confused expression. “In a biology class,” he clarifies.

And he laughs when the lightbulb in your mind finally goes on.

His laugh is so soft, almost musical and enchanting. A lullaby that pleasantly tickles your ears, drawing you in.

“So, you like vampire stories? Perfect for October,” he adds.

You study the flawless features of his face and almost forget to answer him. “Uh, yes. It’s one of the first romances I read when I was young. I reread it every year, like a tradition.”

“Oh, then I’m dealing with a real fan! Maybe you’re waiting for your vampire?” His teasing tone stings, making your cheeks blush adorably.

“What? No, I never said that!” you protest.

Once again, he bursts out laughing, this time so openly that you can see all his perfectly aligned white teeth — one detail you can’t ignore.

His canines are slightly sharper than average. They have their charm, certainly, but that doesn’t stop the strange feeling that there’s nothing ordinary about him.

No, you’re not delusional enough to think he could actually be a vampire (that only happens in books, come on!), but still, why not imagine it? His beauty, however, remains anything but normal.

In the end, as you join in his contagious laughter, you can’t help but think that maybe this new October will be a little more special than the previous ones and a little less lonely.

~~~~

By the end of the day, you at least managed to get a name — Suguru Geto.

Does a man who monopolizes your attention also have to be blessed with such a lovely name?

“Nice day, isn’t it?”

The familiar tone tickles your ears the next day, but you don’t look up right away, preferring to wait for him to set down his things and prepare himself, just as you are, for the practical biology class (the one that usually takes place in the lab).

You lift your nose from yesterday’s book and glance at the window, where a thin stream of sunlight slips through the glass to warm the surface of the floor. “It’s rare for October,” you comment nonchalantly.

“Don’t sound too excited,” he replies sarcastically, quickly slipping on his white lab coat. His long strands of black hair brush against the pristine white fabric with elegance. “You don’t like the sun?” A mischievous smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as it twitches slightly.

“And you like it?” you retort, knotting your brows as your eyes rise to meet his.

“I hate it.”

You blink. “Didn’t you say it was a nice day?”

“I asked you if it was.” He chuckles softly. “If you’d breathe in something other than moldy paper…” He gestures at the yellowed pages of your book.

“Show some respect for my book.” You close it sharply and give Suguru’s shoulder a playful shove that barely registers, as if his muscles were made of stone.

“Good morning, class.” The voice of your professor cuts through just as you’re about to make a comment about it, and you quickly store your book in your bag.

For this biology class, a rather simple and classic experiment needs to be carried out in pairs using a microscope — a blood type test (ABO/Rh). Something fairly standard and easy to do. It reminds you of a scene from the first volume of the Twilight saga, and to say that you’re holding back from a mini-celebration would be an understatement, as everything seems perfect.

During the procedural steps of the experiment, you notice Suguru watching you, sitting on his wooden stool as you bring the needle close to the tip of your finger. “Aren’t you going to prick yourself?” you can’t help but ask.

Suguru shakes his head, swallowing. “I have a hard time with… blood.” He inhales and exhales lightly, as though something constricts him in his attempts.

“Oh, really?” You raise your eyebrows in surprise. “Are you hemophobic?”

“Let’s… go with that,” he replies, his tone almost so dry and flat that you wonder where his cheerfulness from earlier has gone.

“So, you’re not really phobic?” you press, which elicits a small sigh from him that you notice despite its subtlety.

“It’s complicated to explain,” he says, his gaze lowering to the lab table legs. “I’ll just do the experiment with you.”

“But it’s graded,” you murmur. “Wouldn’t you rather we—”

“I know. The professor is aware, don’t worry,” he assures you through clenched teeth, scooting his chair back slightly from you and clearing his throat to stifle the metallic sound of the chair legs scraping the floor.

Of course, this doesn’t escape your notice. You even have half a mind to ask if he’s okay, but he cuts you off right before you can, making you almost want to shake him. “I’ll help you analyze your blood type; just let me know when to add the anti-A drops and—”

But before he finishes, you’ve already pricked your finger, and a large drop of blood is forming. The reddish liquid rolls down your fingertip like a tear, and you quickly place drops on the microscope slides.

Suguru stands up abruptly, and for a second, you think he’s going to rush over to draw some drops for the test, but he grabs his things instead and bolts out of the lab without a word.

In the room, no one — neither students nor the professor — seems to pay any attention to him.

You’re the only one left frozen, with drops of blood still trickling down your hand.

Wait, what just happened?

~~~~

During the rest of the week that follows, Suguru doesn’t show up to any classes. Not even the biology ones.

Confusion continues to hang around you, almost preventing you from enjoying a good night's sleep. He who seemed so charming and welcoming at first now seems to have pulled away all of a sudden.

Did you upset him by biting him without warning? He probably didn’t like that, but wasn’t it him who was behaving so strangely? It’s almost like he has bipolar behavior.

Sitting at the base of a solitary tree in your university courtyard, you’ve settled in to enjoy the grayish weather and the beauty of the autumn leaves swirling down onto the green grass by the pathways.

What perfect weather to study.

Fine raindrops fall here and there, but nothing to damage your belongings, or perhaps just enough to help you forget your sad heart. Of course, you barely know Suguru. He’s a student as ordinary as a gemstone in a river of pebbles. As normal as the beauty of a model and that of the one who foolishly stole your heart in less than 2000 words (you’re about there, dear reader). You’re just a fool. He doesn’t represent much aside from being beautiful.

And potentially liking what you read.

And maybe you’re also disappointed at the thought of having believed in a friend (a rare one, because yes, you certainly don’t have any).

And the possibility of spending the best season in the company of someone who might appreciate the same autumnal atmosphere as you.

The cold wind blows, sweeping your hair from your face over your shoulder, doing the same with a few pages of the textbook lying on the grass. You hold your copy of the Twilight saga close, the only thing that still connects you to Suguru, who has been missing for almost a week.

Too bad…

~~~~

The following week, to your surprise, as you take your usual seat in the biology lecture hall in the early morning, Suguru Geto quickly descends the steps and sits on the opposite side of the room.

The moment he walked through the doors, your eyes locked onto him and didn’t waver, but of course, he didn’t glance at you even once. So maybe you can give him the benefit of the doubt — maybe he didn’t see you.

But that doesn’t seem to be enough.

Not when, at the end of the lecture, he walks right past you to leave the room, making it all too obvious that he’s purposely ignoring you. He practically escapes from the lecture hall, walking so quickly that he leaves the crowd of students behind him.

He must be mad at you.

Well, so be it.

That’s what you tell yourself.

What you keep telling yourself.

And you keep repeating it, even as he sits with other students, one girl in particular giggling with him during class. A pang tugs at your heart. The same smile, the same eyes, but now directed at another girl. And even other guys. But it’s even more unbearable when it’s another girl.

Too bad...

So you wait through the following days, secretly hoping he’ll come over to you, but nothing. Then one Friday, just as all hope seems to have evaporated, your biology professor makes an announcement that makes you sincerely want to marry her.

“My dear students, it’s finally time for me to evaluate you on what counts most for me before midterms, and that’s your ability to work on a project, which you’ll hand in after some time,” she announces, her tone lightly enthusiastic, as if giving extra work could raise her salary. “I’ve already paired you up, with each group working on a different topic. The pairs and topics are already posted on the list I’ve sent to your emails via the course Canvas page.”

Within seconds, everyone in the lecture hall has their eyes glued to their phones, checking who their partner is. Cheers echo around you, with some students celebrating their familiar partners, while others are less pleased.

In your case, it’s your jaw that does the work, practically hitting the floor.

Your name right there, alongside his — Suguru Geto.

He’s the first person you look for, and you can’t deny a slight thrill of satisfaction.

Lower down in the hall, Suguru sits frozen, holding his phone, his shoulders tensed, likely processing the news about his partner. He shifts slightly after a few moments, and you can predict his movements with surprising clarity. The instant he begins to turn in what seems like your direction, you quickly avert your gaze, avoiding any — direct or indirect — confrontation with him.

The bell finally rings, and the students start packing up, barely listening to your biology professor’s reminders about the project’s due date.

You don’t linger either, hastily grabbing your bag, stuffing in your laptop and other things, eager to escape the room and avoid crossing paths with Suguru.

Just as you reach the middle of the courtyard, where rain pours down in relentless sheets, your name is called out despite the strong wind biting at your cheeks and bending nearby trees. The rain falls harder by the second, driving most students to seek refuge indoors, away from the dark gray sky and the downpour increasing in force and volume.

Despite the fierce wind and unending rain, your name is called out a second time as panic seizes you. A conflict arises within you. It’s Suguru’s voice ringing out miraculously above the “storm,” yet you still need to find shelter.

You keep walking, determined not to turn back. Your clothes are soaked, your skin chilled to the bone, and your hair plastered to your face. But no, you won’t turn back.

This time, your name is called so loudly and from so close that you startle, your previously squinting eyes now wide open. “Are you crazy? It’s pouring like a storm!” Suguru exclaims, wrapping his hand around your wrist to pull you toward the empty gazebo to shelter you both. You protest, pulling your wrist back in vain, but you have to admit it: Suguru’s grip is as solid as stone.

Both of you, soaked to the bone, stand under the gazebo as Suguru wrings out his jet-black hair, then immediately turns to face your shivering form. "Are you okay?" he murmurs softly, just as thunder rumbles in the distance. But it’s easy to read his lips.

You nod, averting your gaze. “What do you want?”

Suguru furrows his brows. “Originally, to talk about the project. But at this point, to keep you from throwing yourself at the storm!”

His words are so sarcastic that the two of you end up staring stupidly into each other’s wide, rain-dampened eyes, as droplets patter against the gazebo roof.

Then you both burst out laughing.

It doesn’t take long before you’re doubled over, tears welling up as laughter fills the air. The deep breaths and cold, ragged gasps that freeze your lungs mean nothing compared to this absurdly amusing moment.

When the laughter finally subsides and you’ve caught your breath, Suguru clears his throat. “Anyway, can I ask why you decided to challenge this storm when I was calling out to you?”

“Ask yourself,” you retort, the laughter vanishing from your face. “Weren’t you the one who left me mid-experiment and has been ignoring me ever since?” You pause, trying to keep your growing feelings hidden, as warmth rises to your cheeks. To cover it, you add, “And besides, I don’t owe you anything. You told me you’d arranged things with the professor.”

Suguru blinks twice in quick succession. “Did… that hurt you?”

You frown. “What? No, we barely know each other. That’s not what—”

He murmurs your name as a gentle warning, sending a shiver down your spine, then takes a step closer, closing the distance between you. “Answer me. Did it hurt you?”

You purse your lips, feeling embarrassed, but remain in stubborn silence.

Suguru sighs, then lowers his head toward you until his forehead rests gently on your shoulder. “Forgive me.”

“...What?”

“Forgive me,” he repeats. “I understand my mistake. I knew that leaving without an explanation would hurt you. But I didn’t think it would be even worse if I didn’t come to talk to you afterward. I thought… maybe you didn’t want to talk to me anymore.” He lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours, and you’re left speechless at his words. “You have every right to be upset with me. It’s not fair.”

Suddenly, a clap of thunder booms, and you flinch in fright. Suguru instinctively places his hands around your elbows.

“Are you okay?”

You swallow, heart pounding. “Yes, I’m fine.” Suguru looks puzzled, his brow furrowing in response. “I mean,” you turn your face away, your cheeks aflame, “let’s just forget it happened. I’m not mad at you. Maybe I should have warned you I was about to prick my finger and—”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Suguru cuts you off softly, a worried crease forming between his brows. “It’s my fault. I wasn’t in the right mindset, and I panicked when I saw the blood. You have nothing to apologize for, please.” He uses the quiet moment to tuck a stray lock of hair that had fallen near your eyes behind your ear. “So… do you forgive me?”

Your eyes meet his again, and the warmth in them nearly overwhelms you. “...Yes.”

“Perfect. Thank you,” he whispers, grateful. Another silence lingers as he slowly releases his hold on your elbows. “So… are you up for the project?”

“As long as it doesn’t involve any more real blood,” you reply with a shy, half-smile.

“Promise, no more blood,” Suguru assures you, chuckling softly.

~~~~

“It’s actually pretty convenient.”

“Yeah, well, maybe not for our hands,” Suguru grumbles, grabbing a paper towel to wipe his fingers now stained red from the strawberry juice that’s seeped out.

“I actually like it,” you mumble, chewing on a strawberry used for your DNA extraction analysis — the topic of your shared project.

All of it comes from a strawberry, considering Suguru wasn’t keen on using mouth swabs, which was understandable.

“You’ve got juice all around your mouth,” he chuckles, amused by your bewildered and almost endearing expression. “Need some help?” He reaches out and gently wipes a red stain from the corner of your lips with his thumb.

You murmur a quick thank you, feeling your cheeks heat up slightly as he wipes his thumb with a tissue, then casually tucks it away in his pocket. With a quick glance at the clock on your living room wall, he comments, “You haven’t eaten dinner.”

“You mean we haven’t,” you correct him.

“No, I mean you haven’t,” he insists with that familiar little smirk. “And I’m suggesting we go out to eat.” He gets up from his chair in a fluid motion, heading toward the exit without waiting for a reply.

As he had intended, you soon find yourself seated at a cozy, discreet restaurant with soft, dim lighting. Suguru sits across from you, arms crossed over his chest, his torso leaning forward slightly.

“So? Did you decide?” he murmurs softly, a stray lock of his raven-black hair brushing his cheek, its tip just grazing his lips.

“Yes, I’ll go with this,” you show him, just as the server arrives to take your order with a polite smile. “What about you?”

“You didn’t choose a drink.”

“Oh, um, a Coke,” you reply, a bit caught off guard.

“Make that two Cokes, please,” he tells the server, who nods and leaves quietly. Suguru turns back to you. “I already paid the bill,” he adds as you open your mouth to speak.

“But you didn’t even know the price of what I’d order,” you protest, frowning.

“I left a tip just in case.” He grins.

Moments later, despite your ongoing complaints about his overly chivalrous gesture, the server places a steaming hot dish in front of you.

“Suguru…” you sigh.

“Eat,” he responds with his ever-present smirk, nudging the plate closer.

Seeing no other choice, you stab a piece of vegetable with your fork, chewing it with an exasperated pout.

Suguru’s grin widens until it reveals perfectly straight, white teeth, with canines just a bit sharper than average. If you let your imagination go, who wouldn’t think of a vampire? But you keep that thought to yourself and blink at Suguru, whose grin soon turns to laughter.

“What?” you ask, mouth still full.

“You look like an angry little chipmunk,” he laughs, covering his face with his hands to muffle his uncontrollable laughter as you swallow. His laugh is so warm, harmonious, and comforting that you can’t help but giggle along, wiping the corner of your mouth with a napkin.

“Stop,” you try to grumble, but the attempt only sharpens Suguru’s laugh, and soon both of you are swept up in uncontrollable laughter.

An hour later, you’ve finished your meal and your Coke — and even Suguru’s, who insisted he wasn’t hungry. It seemed odd, but his sincere smile reassured you. So you didn’t question it and asked him to wait outside while you made a quick stop in the restroom.

As you step out of the ladies’ room, two unfamiliar men block your way, stopping you from making a quick exit. You sigh discreetly, hesitant to say you’re in a hurry.

“Well, hey there, cutie,” growls one, a short, stocky guy.

“We saw you heading to the restroom all alone, thought you looked pretty cute,” adds his taller, leaner friend. “So if you’re interested, wanna spend the evening with us?”

Is this really Wario and Waluigi standing in front of you?

You swallow nervously. “Oh, sorry, I’m waiting for someone, so that won’t be possible,” you say politely, forcing a smile.

“Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

“My…” You search for the right words, even though the answer is obvious. “Friend.”

“Your friend?” the shorter man presses. “Maybe we could help you find him, huh? We’ve even got a nice car to take you in.” His smile reveals teeth stained dark by tobacco, sending a shiver of dread down your spine.

“I can find my own way, but thanks for the offer,” you say, taking a few steps to slip between the two men. “Have a good even—”

“Hold on there, not so fast!” the lean man cuts you off, any hint of friendliness gone in an instant. “Who said you could leave?”

The shorter man clicks his tongue in agreement, narrowing his eyes dangerously as your heartbeat races faster with panic. “Yeah! We need some company tonight, so you’re either coming with us, or else—”

“Or else what?”

Suguru’s hands rest firmly on your shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Suguru, you—” Just turning halfway and looking up, you recognize his unforgettable form, and your heart nearly stops.

“You okay, princess?” Suguru murmurs, his neck bent so close to your shoulder that he could practically nibble your neck or playfully bite your ear. One small nod from you is all he needs before he carefully releases you and positions his body as a shield between you and the two men.

Even from behind him, you can feel his chilling smile.

“Gentlemen, shall we continue this conversation outside?”

“Phew!” Suguru exhales, brushing off his hands as you both leave the restaurant ten minutes later.

“W-What happened to those two guys?” you can’t help but ask, trying not to shiver in the biting cold that hits you the second you step outside.

“Nothing special,” he answers vaguely, smoothly slipping off his sleek black leather jacket and draping it over your shoulders. It’s cold to the touch. “Put it on—I don’t want you catching a chill.” His minty breath brushes against your cheek.

“No need, really. It’s already very kind of you to—”

“Don’t thank me, alright?” Suguru opens the passenger side door of your car, gesturing for you to get in. And before you can protest, he hushes you. “Nope, I’m driving tonight.”

“Aren’t you overdoing the chivalry thing?” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest as you settle into the passenger seat while Suguru rests his hands on the wheel.

“Better too much than too little, right? You complaining, or am I imagining things?” he chuckles, and you sigh, rubbing your arms against the cold that his jacket doesn’t quite keep out. “You’re cold?”

You nod slightly, and he reaches for the heat controls at the same time you do, and for an instant, your hands brush against each other.

And a strange, unpleasant feeling washes over you.

Suguru pulls his hand back, looking tense and stiff, his gaze fixed intently on the road. You turn the heat up by yourself and sink into your seat.

“Your… hand’s freezing,” you murmur, daring only to glance at him with your eyes, not turning your head fully. “Are you sure you don’t want to take your jacket back?” He doesn’t answer.

The rest of the drive passes in silence, and you can’t shake the question of how a simple brush of hands turned the atmosphere so awkward. It feels as if the air has thickened, like molasses, making each breath slightly difficult.

Once you arrive in front of your house, you both step out of the car, and Suguru hands you your keys as you do.

“I’ll walk you to your door,” he murmurs, matching his pace to yours.

You don’t respond, pulling your house keys out, but you don’t pay attention to the porch steps and stumble. In the next second, you blink.

You didn’t fall.

Two strong arms, heavy and solid as iron, hold you firmly in place.

“You alright?” Suguru’s eyes are fixed on yours, his face far too close, so close that all it would take is for you to lean forward to kiss him.

“Y-Yeah, thanks,” you stammer, taken by surprise.

He steadies you back on your feet, his hand lingering around your waist to make sure you don’t stumble again.

Made of stone.

Suguru steps back, creating a respectable distance, while you fumble with your keys, your hands trembling slightly as you slip one into the lock.

“See you Monday?” you whisper, as though the night amplifies your voice.

“Monday, yes,” Suguru replies with a nod that seems almost… robotic.

~~~~

Two weeks later, neither of you had brought up any details about what happened — whether it was about the two men at the restaurant, Suguru’s icy hands, or his iron-like grip (and at this point, calling it iron was putting it mildly).

Now that you’re friends, it didn’t take long before you both started spending most of your free time together during the week — at the library, in the university courtyard, and sometimes even at cafés.

Your weekends often revolved around working on the DNA extraction project with strawberries, even though using cheek cells seemed more and more tempting. Why? Well, it fit perfectly into the human biology lessons in your course — even if the strawberries did the trick.

Naturally, you started learning more about each other — hobbies, music tastes — and, of course, books.

If there was anything that held you back from finding Suguru’s behavior odd at times, it was that day he sat beside you after a Sunday you’d spent chatting the whole afternoon away about your favorite books without making any progress on your biology project.

From Anne of Green Gables to Twilight, Dracula, Wuthering Heights, or Kafka’s works (Letters to Milena in particular), Suguru had brought every single copy he’d bought that Sunday evening and read them all overnight — something you’d thought impossible to read in such a short time, but Suguru assured you he reads very quickly.

So you believed him.

How could you not, when he found the best way to make your heart race by reading what you loved and showing up ready to discuss it all with you?

If that was his intent, then Suguru was indeed every bit the gentleman he thought himself to be.

“By the way, there’s a frat party happening soon. Are you going to come?” Suguru asks, his head bent over a DNA Ethics Guide textbook.

You’re both in the university library, as silent as a vampire’s heart. Ah, now you’re a poet?

You stop rummaging through your pencil case and glance up at him. “I don’t really know anyone, so—”

“Well, I do, so are you coming?”

You laugh nervously. “No, I don’t want to just crash the party; it’ll be awkward and—”

“I’ll be there, so it won’t be crashing,” Suguru insists, a slight smile playing on his lips as he looks up at you.

The sight takes your breath away.

“Will you let me finish my sentences, for goodness’ sake?” you retort, your cheeks flushing. You lower your eyes to your pencil case to avoid responding.

But his hand finds yours, intertwining his fingers with yours to stop your movements. Your heart, already racing, skips a beat. “Come on, please? It’s not like I’m asking for a lot of favors.”

This time, it’s your whole body temperature that spikes — so much so that your hand, tangled with Suguru’s, becomes a little sweaty, and you gently pull it back toward you.

“I… I’ll think about it, okay?” you mumble, quickly rummaging to find your white-out for no reason and then using it on… absolutely nothing, really.

Because now you’ve forgotten what you were even looking for in your pencil case.

~~~~

“What about seven minutes in heaven?” Satoru Gojo proposes, a student with albino hair and cerulean blue eyes half-hidden behind useless round sunglasses, sporting a mischievous smirk.

“You suggest this every time!” Choso Kamo protests, the emo boy dressed in punk-style clothing, with messy black pigtails. He scrunches his nose in disapproval.

“But it’s the best,” Satoru counters.

The music blasts in every corner of the house where the frat party is taking place. Pink, blue, and fuchsia neon lights color the atmosphere, transforming every hue.

In one corner of the house, a circle has formed with Suguru’s friends. You all sit cross-legged, a few drinks nearby for refreshment, and you can’t help but think it’s one of the best ideas proposed since the beginning.

You’ve stuck close to Suguru since your arrival, which he couldn’t help but tease you about, provoking a blush that no one could see thanks to the neon lights. Plus, he kindly introduced you to his friends, all lovely and inclusive, never leaving you out. But if there was one goat — an animal very representative of him, by the way — among this flock of sheep, it was Satoru.

Outgoing by nature and quick to embrace any event that sparks even the slightest interest, he was the first to take you under his wing — all while Suguru watched cautiously — and show you everything you’d never dared to do at a party.

“What do you think of it, sweetheart?” Satoru whispers as the others debate the topic on their side (some for, others against).

You jump slightly, still not used to him addressing you with such open flirtation. “Um…” You clear your throat, squirming a little in your position. “I’ve heard of it, but what is it exactly?”

“You don’t know? Awww.” He leans in closer so that his lips reach your ear. “The goal of this game is to be locked in a room for seven minutes — a bedroom, a closet, whatever — and you can do whatever you want with the person who’s in there with you.” His breath is as cool as Suguru’s, and when Satoru pulls back, his face remains close to yours. His pale complexion reflects like an entity never seen before. “Clearer now, sweetheart?”

You swallow hard, nodding slowly. “And when you say they can do whatever they want… what does that include? Generally speaking, I mean,” you inquire, sensing a weighty gaze upon you but not knowing where it’s coming from.

Satoru closes the distance between you and wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Well, let’s just say most people kiss, sometimes make out,” Satoru confesses with a sly smile. His scent is as intoxicating as Suguru’s — just like his stone-like embrace. Satoru’s skin — especially his exposed forearms — feels like it’s at the same temperature as the ocean, yet it’s as if a warmth radiates from him regardless. “But…” he brings his lips close to your temple, making you shiver as your eyes scan around, briefly locking with Suguru’s intense gaze on you, “some people find time to go further, if you catch my drift.”

You choke on your own saliva at that moment, and Satoru bursts out laughing.

A few minutes later, a duo emerges from a broom closet, giggling like tipsy people, returning to the circle amid cheers from the others.

Satoru replaces the empty glass beer bottle to spin it in the center, pointing at his next victim — if you could say it like that, since you don’t seem very excited about the game.

And despite that, the wicked bottle stops, pointing its neck at you.

Goddamn it.

A knowing smile spreads across Satoru’s face — he glances mischievously in your direction before spinning the bottle again and quickly sitting back down.

With every turn, the speed used to spin it feels like this simple bottle holds a sentence. Your fate for the next seven minutes.

When it finally slows down and stops, to your greatest…

Relief?

… it points at Suguru.

Satoru pouts a little in disappointment and stands up along with both of you to escort you to the closet, amid cheers of encouragement from the group.

Suguru catches up with a few quick strides, just to whisper to you, “We don’t have to do anything if you’re not comfortable, okay? Just let me know because—”

Satoru cuts him off by shoving you tightly into the narrow broom closet and locking you inside. “And… the countdown begins!” he announces from the other side, his indistinct footsteps fading away.

The air is almost suffocating, the darkness plunging you into an atmosphere anything but reassuring, and especially the impossible closeness between you and Suguru becomes just unbearable.

Your breaths mingle, and when you try to shift positions, your chest brushes against Suguru’s, causing him to clench his jaw. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s… Let’s just say I’m not quite sure what to do here,” you admit, lifting your eyes to him, and God, he could devour you at that moment, the faint light at your feet bringing a tiny spark to your lost doe-like eyes.

“The others will get annoying if we don’t do anything,” Suguru huffs, rolling his eyes before shaking his head. “I guess Satoru explained it to you? We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, okay?” he insists, his tone soft and patient. He closes his eyes for a moment and inhales slightly.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, but I’m a little embarrassed,” you murmur. Then, those previous words start to tease you. “Would it bother you to do something?” you ask nonetheless.

“No, not really,” Suguru chuckles, his perfect teeth glimmering slightly in the darkness. “But we can pretend if you prefer.”

“Pretend?”

“Yeah, just…” Suddenly, he gently takes your wrists and presses them against the wooden wall of the closet, leaning toward your neck, “...pretend.”

You bite your lip to suppress any sound, but you desperately want to make one right now.

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispers just below your ear, near your pulse.

Your breathing has quickened, matching the beats of your heart, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “No.”

His lips descend to your neck, brushing against your skin, his breath caressing you to the point that you’re on the verge of breaking.

“S-Suguru…”

“Hmm?” He hums, slightly opening his mouth to let his teeth graze just above your trapezius. “Do you want me to stop?”

You shake your head, unable to speak, as if two hands were preventing you by squeezing you in the sweetest way.

That’s when he starts placing butterfly kisses on your neck and shoulders, as light as they are burning despite the icy temperature of his lips against your volcanic skin. “You have such soft, tender skin, princess,” Suguru murmurs in a breathy whisper, continuing his feather-light kisses that unintentionally make you emit a small hum revealing your inner turmoil. He chuckles softly, the sound so pleasant that it sends a pulse through your core. “If I were a vampire, I would have devoured you by now,” he teases ironically.

You freeze. “Suguru?” you whisper, your brows slightly furrowed.

“Princess?” he replies in the same tone, his lips moving down to your collarbone, dotting it with sweet, intoxicating kisses.

Unable to resist the temptation, Suguru discreetly slips out his tongue and licks a strip of your bare skin, which begins to unravel you — your mouth unable to hold back an adorable moan that drives Suguru wild.

His canines painfully extend from their gums, their tips so close to your soft, warm flesh, filled with blood he has never craved so much, but he knows he cannot. Yet it’s almost impossible for him to resist, not when your little rapid breaths tickle his shoulder, when you seem so small and vulnerable in his arms, and when your pulse races to the point that his ultra-developed hearing cannot ignore it as it usually does. So what is he to do? He inches closer and closer, his canines just millimeters away from sinking into your neck—

“Seven minutes are up!” Satoru announces as he inserts the key into the lock — just enough time for you both to pull away from each other and for Suguru’s painful canines to retreat back into his gums.

Your face has never been so warm in your life.

~~~~

That evening, after returning home without any issues, you collapsed onto your bed, alone, faced with the only thoughts occupying your mind — Suguru Geto.

Oh Lord.

If he hadn’t been real, this man would have been your fantasy day and night.

But after what happened in that infamous broom closet, you can no longer see Suguru the same way.

Not after he somehow showed you how he could desire you.

How he could protect you.

Your thoughts become tangled, and you can no longer distinguish what your brain imagines and what it remembers.

Between the two strange men in the restaurant who suddenly assaulted you and the feeling that everything spins like a black spiral, blinding you, or the man who faces you in the dark corridor of what seems to be a gothic mansion.

He extends his hand, and you step forward to take it. It’s pale, cold, and as hard as stone. It pulls you toward him, drawing you against him, his smooth white mask waiting to be removed.

So that’s what you do, your hands gently pulling at the mask to reveal what lies behind, but the face that emerges makes you want to scream.

Suguru’s head faces you, his canines protruding and stained with blood, along with the contours of his mouth.

You try to scream, to flee, to do anything, but your body seems no longer willing to respond to your brain, as if paralyzed — and Suguru only leans closer to sink his fangs into the soft, warm flesh of your neck before—

You wake up with a start, sitting halfway up in your bed, your body slick with cold sweat and your panicked eyes searching for Suguru as if it were a vital need.

It may sound crazy, but you need him.

You have to check.

~~~~

“Do you prefer scrambled, fried, or omelet eggs?”

In Suguru’s kitchen — decorated in a rather modern style with black and white furniture, but with a touch of vintage or gothic (anyway, you weren’t good at decorating, so whatever) — the smell of heating oil fills the air, eliciting a growl from your stomach.

“Scrambled, but well-cooked,” you reply as he hums and grabs three eggs to crack over the heated pan.

While his back is turned, you rise as casually as possible, trying not to look too suspicious as you pretend to peek at what he’s cooking. Suguru glances sideways at you but smiles slightly, tucking a rebellious strand of your hair behind your ear.

Since then, you haven’t talked about the frat party at all, as if nothing had happened, in fact. At least from Suguru’s side.

From your side, you can’t forget how he planted kisses on your neck, how he licked your collarbone until you moaned, and you realize that if he had continued without interruption, you would have surely agreed to go further, just as Satoru had mentioned.

You stop drifting into your thoughts and wrap your hand around the fridge handle, and Suguru turns his head towards you, knitting his brows.

“I want to drink water,” you say, opening the fridge to take a look, expecting to find jars or bottles of blood but…

…nothing.

Now that’s a bit disappointing.

There’s just nothing in Suguru’s fridge, aside from the door leading into its depths.

You turn to him, confused. “Why is your fridge empty?” you ask.

Suguru pauses for a moment before responding, his hands busy finishing your scrambled eggs. “I prefer to order food when I can.” His tone is neutral, neither cold nor dry, just lacking any openness to guess anything, which begins to irritate you.

“Not even water?”

“You ask so many questions,” Suguru sighs, a slight smile on his lips but with no malice.

“I’m just worried that my friend isn’t eating well or that he has an eating disorder,” you lie, your heart racing even more because how is it possible that, aside from the small box of eggs on the counter, he doesn’t even have water? “Do you drink tap water? It’s not very good for your health, you know—”

Suguru adds a pinch of salt to the well-cooked eggs in the pan using a small salt shaker and throws you another sideways glance, but without a smile this time. “Why are you panicking?” he suddenly asks, his voice rough and low.

“What? No, I’m not panicking, I—”

“Then why are your cheeks red? I can even hear your heartbeat racing,” he retorts, and you freeze slightly — because he’s speaking the truth, a truth that only you should be able to utter.

“It’s because of the heat in the kitchen and also because you’re avoiding my questions, Suguru,” you persist. “And what do you mean by ‘hearing’ my heartbeat, huh?”

Now it’s Suguru who looks taken aback. “Stop saying nonsense, you just sound silly. It’s an expression,” he justifies, the expression on his face twisted in a frustration you seem to understand.

He places your eggs on a plate and turns his head away from you. So you muster your courage, and to hell with it if you wet yourself.

“Suguru, I don’t know how to react now,” you admit, your voice low and uncertain. “You act so strangely sometimes that I have questions, but it seems so stupid that I feel like I’m going crazy…” A knot tightens in your throat.

Suguru turns to you, and his slightly harder gaze from a few seconds ago softens. “What are you thinking?” he murmurs, so softly and kindly that you feel he won’t judge you.

“I just… I sometimes feel like…” You look away, stepping back a little. “You don’t act like everyone else and…”

“And…?” Suguru presses, pulling a glass of water from the cupboard.

You feel your face turning as red as it did at the frat party and admit, raising your voice slightly due to uncontrollable embarrassment, “You look like a vampire, seriously!”

A silence follows.

Then Suguru turns to you. “Are you afraid of vampires?” He chuckles, teasing you.

“No, but you’re acting strangely and—”

“And so you think I’m a vampire?” he cuts you off, losing all trace of joy.

And now, he catches you off guard, making you stutter like never before. “No— well, yes, but— not really…”

“Well,” he mumbles, returning to your plate and glass to set them on the kitchen table, “who knows?”

Your complexion turns pale.

“Tell me, princess, if I were really a vampire — not a bad one, but a vampire nonetheless — would you accept me?” Suguru now approaches you quickly, cornering you against the wall behind you as you stupidly step back.

Only your frightened eyes meet his, and his obsidian gaze scrutinizes you. “It all depends on whether you want to kill me or harm me,” you breathe.

“And what if that weren’t my intention as a vampire, that I cherished you like Edward Cullen did with his Bella, hmm?” He takes your wrist to bring it to his lips and smells — but what scent? “That I love you and protect you?”

“You would drink blood… right?”

“Would you let me taste yours?” Suguru’s teeth hold your trembling wrist firmly as they hover just above your tendon, his gaze locked onto yours. “Just a sip, perhaps? It’s harmless.”

“I don’t know, Suguru… Are you a bad vampire?”

“No, darling, I would be the good vampire you would want me to be.” Suguru grins, releasing your wrist to cage you in his arms, his mouth too close to your neck, and his cool breath sending shivers all over your body. “May I?”

Your disoriented arms wrap around him, and you resign yourself to closing your eyes before nodding gently without knowing why.

“Are you sure, princess?” Suguru purrs in your ear. “It won’t hurt, I promise.”

“Go ahead,” you murmur, the blood pounding in your ears and your heart racing.

Suguru deliberately takes his time, planting a multitude of butterfly kisses on your skin, licking the area he undoubtedly wants to bite just to hear you pant softly in his ears.

He finally parts his lips, brushing his painful, protruding canines, ready to drink your blood.

Slowly, gently, and with the utmost delicacy, his fangs sink into the flesh of your neck.

You expected to feel pain, to scream, shout, and even struggle, but the only sensation is pleasure.

With every passing second, you feel a flow of blood circulating where Suguru bites you. It almost tickles, if you weren’t softly gasping and stifling whimpers.

It’s as if with each pull, a pulse of pleasure shoots directly to your core.

Until it becomes unbearable, your body writhing gently in any attempt at friction. Suguru feels it, of course, because after pulling his teeth from your flesh, he slightly straightens to admire you, your lips parted but in a pleading pout.

As for him, his lips hold the gulp of blood he just took from you, but he keeps his mouth tightly closed — because he knows the sight might disgust you. Then, a few long moments later, Suguru smiles at you, his long canines pristine once again.

You glance at your neck reflexively, and it’s as if he bit you without slicing your flesh. Your skin is smooth, with only two purplish holes visible. It looks like the wounds are in the process of healing.

Wonder fills you, and you wrap your arms around Suguru, who quickly does the same before you surprise him by kissing him directly.

His lips — despite their hard coldness — are soft against yours, moving slowly against your eager mouth, as desirous as you are.

Between kisses, you whisper, “How long have you desired my blood?”

“Since the first experience,” Suguru replies softly, his mouth devouring yours as you try to insert your tongue. “Not too far, my love, they’re sharp.” And you guess he’s talking about his teeth.

You pout. “I want you.”

Suguru presses his lips together, breaking the kiss. “Sure? I thought you were scared but I think I can control myself, and… don’t you want to ask me questions? It would be strange if you didn’t have any, after all.”

“We can do that later; I just want you right now,” you mumble, burying your face in his neck. “I’m I’m not afraid anymore.”

Suguru’s large hands slowly slide down your back and stop at your waist, gently gripping you. “So, you’re accepting me?”

You slightly turn your head toward him, your lips brushing against his jaw. “I’ve always dreamed of vampires — but they were still just dreams.”

Suguru exhales. “I can’t give you an Edward Cullen, but I can be the vampire of your fantasies. So will you accept me, my love?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

~~~~

“Ah— you’re teasing, Sugu—”

Muffled words reach your ears, but they are incomprehensible, as the vampire making you wet literally has his head buried between your legs, devouring your pussy like a starved man.

He lifts his head to look at you, and a smile lights up his features, his chin dripping with your wetness. “You can’t handle a little teasing, baby?” he coos, the tip of his tongue circling around your puffy clit in a torturous motion that makes you whine.

You pout, gasping when he pinches the little bud between his lips. “But I want you, now,” you insist.

“But I need to get you ready for me,” he responds, his hands placing themselves on your inner thighs to pin you against the mattress, laying you bare before him. He continues to wickedly tease you with the tip of his tongue against your clit and between your soaked folds.

“S’not fair,” you protest, your legs trembling softly on either side of his head like a little animal.

“Your beauty isn’t fair, that’s the point, yeah.” Suguru climbs over your body, one hand sneaking around your neck and the other sliding between your thighs to tease your dripping intimacy. He presses his mouth against your ear. “Do you know how badly I’ve struggled to not devour you?”

His whisper so close makes you gasp, as the sensation is far too pleasant and uncomfortable in the best way — breath as cold as it is warm, as he inserts a finger inside you.

“Hmm, baby?” You try to respond, but only a pathetic whimper escapes. He pushes his finger gently but surely deeper until he reaches your g-spot, and your back arches.

“Sugu,” you whine.

“You didn’t answer, princess,” he purrs, licking the shell of your ear. And he starts to pump his finger inside you, your walls clenching around his digit, warming his cold finger as he finger-fucks you in earnest. “Haven’t you seen how badly I was burning for you?”

“I— Not at the s-start,” you pant, bucking your hips toward his finger, and the more he whispers his dirty talk in your ear, the closer you feel yourself reaching your climax.

“Not at the start? And when we were in that broom closet? Weren’t you at my mercy like the little mortal that you are, almost whining because you have this dirty voice kink?” He adds another finger into your abused cunt, sinking his thick fingers to the hilt.

You squirm under him and try to respond. “M’sorry, Suguru, I just need you to—”

“To what, darling?” He pumps his fingers as teasingly as his voice, knuckle-deep and fast. “Tell me how badly you want to cum, can you do that for me?” Your sweet pussy squeezes his fingers, almost spasming because you need more, but he doesn’t allow you until you’re stretched enough to take him after that.

“I w-want to cum on— Hngh, please—” You throw your head back on the mattress, mouth agape from the unstoppable moans leaving your sweet lips. “C-Cum on your fingers, please.”

“That’s good, baby, you’re doing good,” he praises, kissing your ear, temple, cheek, and then lips. He drives his fingers deep into your depths and curls them just as you tighten around them, releasing the knot in your belly to let your juices flow.

His cold thumb joins your clit to rub gently until you ride your orgasm.

“Good job, baby, you did perfect.” Suguru straightens up, pulling his fingers from you to taste your fresh juices around his fingers while you watch with drooping eyelids and half-closed eyes. Suguru then leans in to kiss you, gently at first, knowing you’re still a little weak, then he inserts a bit of his tongue without ever crossing your teeth, fearing to hurt you.

You softly break the kiss and kiss his jaw, which makes him sigh softly. “Sugu? I have a question.”

He chuckles softly. “What did I tell you about questions?” He strokes your hair soothingly, laying down beside you. “But ask away.”

“Your entire body is cold, so it means that blood doesn’t flow through your veins, right?” you start.

“Right.”

“So, how can you be hard?” You slip a hand down his pants to palm his erection through the fabric. Your cute face almost makes his dead heart throb. “It’s funny, though,” you giggle.

“It’s hard to explain but, do you know how Edward made love to Bella?” Suguru asks, kissing your cheek as you unzip his pants.

“It wasn’t really described, but,” you pause, “was he hard?”

“Sure he was, like I am right now for you,” he mutters. Your palm wraps around his now free, throbbing erection, and your warmth electrifies a rush of pleasure through his cold flesh. You climb between his legs and lower your head so you can lap at his tip — dripping with his pre.

“Princess, be careful with—” He interrupts himself, letting out a groan to stifle a moan, which makes you laugh softly. “Tease,” he groans.

“Uh-huh.” You envelop his pale tip and suck gently, reducing Suguru to a panting and needy thing. Your fingers play with his balls, and he clenches his hands into fists, hissing between his teeth.

“Baby, be careful, you don’t know how badly I can hurt you if I don’t control at least how my body reacts to your touch, so don’t take me in your— Dear Lord,” he groans again. You see and feel the way he forces his hips to stay still against the matress to not pierce your palate with his length, much harder than usual. So you suck him slowly, carefully, not to surprise his body and give him the head you want him to feel — he even deserves it.

You withdraw his twitching dick from your mouth and grin, warming it up with your hands as he feels free to buck his hips and fuck your fist earnestly this time. “You’re so beautiful like this, aren’t you?” you praise, playing with his balls as he whines.

His long black hair sprawls across the immaculate sheets, his eyelids squinted and pleading, and his perfect lips slightly parted to let out the most divine sounds. Suguru is truly the vampire you’ve always fantasized about since your first reading on vampires.

“I’m close, sweetheart,” Suguru tells you, reaching out his arm to cup your chin and make you lift your eyes to his. “I want to cum inside you, if you would let me.” And God, how can you say no to that perfect immortal angel?

And so it is that you end up lying on the mattress, your belly exposed, your naked and heated body pressed against Suguru’s icy one, which you can’t wait to warm up.

He settles between your thighs, wrapping them around his waist before leaning down to pull you into his arms, shielding you with his stone muscles as your breasts gently crush against his cold chest, hardening your nipples, and he feels it — dragging one of his hands to it and pinching softly, just enough to make you whimper his name.

He presses his mouth against your ear again and whispers dirty words, “Ready to take my cock, princess? I won’t break you, promise. At least not yet.” And he brings his tip against your wet slit, pressing flesh against flesh to tease you until the end.

“You bast—” and he cuts you off with a kiss, pushing his tip to the very entrance of your delicious walls, ready to take him with every inch. You kiss him back, licking his lips eagerly.

“You’ll take it inch by inch, okay? It’s cold, so I need you to be comfortable with a suitable temperature,” Suguru warns you between heated kisses. “Ready?” He pulls his lips from yours to place them against your sensitive ear — on the way, he leaves a gentle hickey, enough to leave a reddish mark.

Tenderly, he sinks into you, the first inch greeted by your parted folds, greedy to take more of him.

“One inch,” Suguru says, waiting for you to adjust. “Is it alright down here?”

“Y-Yeah, I just need more, I want you whole.” You place your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, trying to ignore how you tighten around his dick when he whispers in your ear.

“Two inches,” he exhales then curses under his breath. “Fuck, you’re so wet, and how can you be this tight?” As he gently inserts the third and fourth inches, Suguru feels like he could crack at any moment, overwhelmed by the desire to bury himself deep inside your sweet, gorgeous pussy.

The fifth, sixth, and seventh inches are taken easily by your tightness, filling the room with your two uncontrollable gasps and the heat radiating from your body, which warms so much that when Suguru starts to fuck you gently at first, you think you might melt at any moment and see stars.

He rails into you so deep and fast that he curses under his breath. “Fuck, you’ve taken the eighth inch.” He groans at the same time as you, as you take him so well that he reaches the bottom, his tip kissing your g-spot even better than his fingers did earlier.

“Oh, fuck! S’too much, Sugu, and too deep,” you moan, and it only makes his dick throb harder than it was when you stroked him.

Because with every thrust or stroke, the two of you feel overwhelmed and overstimulated at the same time. He withdraws almost entirely to slam back into you, not too hard but enough for your toes to curl and you to cry out.

“I’m already close, Suguru, please, I wanna cum.” And Suguru chuckles softly, thrusting into you harder and faster than he was already doing. Now, his tip hits your sweet spot with every stroke, coaxing sounds from you that he dreams of hearing.

“Cum on this cock, baby, you can do it,” he coos in your ear, making you clench around him, intertwining your fingers with his. He takes one of your legs to lift it over his shoulder and buries himself deeper inside you, and you press a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming.

“I’m close, I’m gonna—” But you cry out again against your palm, cumming hard and loud on his dick, your velvety walls twitching and spasming as Suguru fucks you through your orgasm — your eyes shutting as you see stars.

As you come down from your high, Suguru slows his pace and stays inside you, lying down next to you. “You alright?”

And you nod feebly, throwing a leg over his waist to sit on him and take him deeper. You gently lower your head, admiring your juices flowing from your cunt. “Your turn now.”

And you ride him carefully, taking his hands in yours to place them on your hips, letting him lead the pace with you. “You’re beautiful,” Suguru murmurs, his obsidian eyes shining with devotion. He flutters them closed, humming, groaning, and sometimes whining when you bounce on him too well, and he’s about to cum.

You gently lay down on him as he lifts his hips in sync, gripping your waist to take over and help him cum — which he succeeds in doing, and the sensation is so surprising and pleasant that you moan softly along with him, your adorable faces scrunching up in pleasure.

His load is warm, neither cold nor hot. It’s as if you’ve warmed his dick so that it’s no longer cold.

Your cheek rests against the coolness of his muscular chest, and you sigh in relief. “You’re going to be very useful to me in the summer,” you giggle, placing gentle kisses along his neck.

“Whenever you want, my love.”

~~~~

“I often come here to hunt,” Suguru explains, parting branches in the forest to make it easier for you to pass.

You skillfully slip through and take his hand in yours to warm it up, smiling as you take in the view he’s sharing: a vast plain overlooked by tall, sturdy trees, sinuous riverbanks, and a large waterfall a bit further on, peeking out where your eyes meet the river paths.

“It’s beautiful, Suguru,” you whisper, fluttering your eyes closed as he squeezes your hand.

“Doesn’t it?” He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you affectionately against him. “There’s never anyone here, just beasts. That way, I won’t have any humans to kill,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss on your temple.

“Is it like in Twilight?” you ask, giggling. “But you don’t have brown eyes.”

“No, it’s not the same,” he corrects you. “As long as I have blood, I have no problem. Human or not, it’s really just a matter of taste. It’s sweeter, you know.”

“Do you have a little sweet tooth?” you tease, getting on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek as he steps away from you to bend down so you can climb onto his back.

“Not really, that’s more Satoru,” he laughs, gripping your thighs as you hop onto his back.

“Aha! I knew he was like you; you’re both just as weird as each other,” you snicker, proud to have solved another mystery.

Suguru bursts into laughter, as if your laughter is that of a little child who is also proud of themselves. “Yeah, and he studies physics, you know. He’s not very sharp in school, but physics is really his thing.” He takes a breath — an unnecessary one, since he doesn’t need to breathe; he just does it out of habit to avoid alarming humans — and glances at you discreetly. “Ready?”

You nod, and without further ado, Suguru begins his run.

He runs fast, of course; he’s a vampire.

But so fast, in fact, that you barely feel him taking steps. It’s as if he’s flying across the ground, the wind whipping against your faces. Every now and then, you lower your head, fearing that branches might slice your head off, but Suguru usually warns you when you can admire the scenery whizzing by faster than a car would allow.

When he finally stops, it’s to drop you off on a hill that takes your breath away.

The same one from your favorite book.

The hill is lush with small green grasses, dotted with tiny purple flowers like in a paradisiacal autumn meadow.

“It’s… It’s…” you stammer, amazed by the surprise he just gave you as he carefully sets you down on the ground, making sure you don’t stumble from the peculiar journey.

“For you,” Suguru adds, settling down on the grass as he waits for you to join him.

“Suguru, how did you…?” you trail off, sitting on the grass with an otherworldly appearance.

“I practically live here, to be honest,” he replies, planting little kisses on your neck and collarbone. “I hunt and feed here. And when I’m not feeling well…” He caresses your skin with the tip of his nose, tracing a path to your chest to bury his face there and sigh, his eyelids shut. “...I used to come here. But I don’t need to anymore.”

A smile curls your lips up. Your fingers gently stroke his jet-black hair. “You should turn me one day, you know? That way, I could come hunt with you and—”

“Not a chance,” he mumbles, pressing his ear against your heart. “I don’t want to lose this little heart. It’s mine.”

You huff. “You sound like Edward, seriously…”

“I would never abandon you, that’s for sure, but as for your transformation, it’s far from today.” Suguru places yet another kiss on your chest and then moves down to your belly, trying to find a sensitive spot to tickle you with his perfect touch.

“So I’ll go see Satoru,” you threaten, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Him? He’ll devour you whole without a second thought. I was the one holding him back during the frat party,” Suguru informs you with a little laugh.

“E-Excuse me?”

And it’s under Suguru’s amused laughter that you promise never to approach the albino — as much from afar as up close.

a/n: okay, i literally have missed the kinkoctober because of this fic :/ i hope at least you guys will enjoy it <3 (i’m so tiiiiired, tho). but tbh, it was fun to write since it was really during this month that the fic is so it’s like i’m living it :))

next → curse hunter! toji !!

tags: @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422 @whathappenedtobeenhappy-blog @drippymcdrippison @koshhin @cybersomn1a @sanemistar

@ssetsuka @monokaix

[thebettybook]

The hunter who reached for the star

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Characters: OPLA (One Piece Live Action) Roronoa Zoro x Straw-Hat-Crew-Member!gn!reader. This fic is written in Zoro’s point of view

Summary: Reader gets an idea to draw portraits of the Straw Hat crew. While the other crew members make the portrait sessions fun and chaotic, Zoro takes it as a chance to spend more time with Reader

Warnings: Mild cursing from Zoro. Sanji cheekily references the “draw me like one of your French girls” line from Titanic for laughs. Other than that, all fluff

Strawbetty’s notes: Y’all were so sweet with my OPLA Zoro crush headcanons post so here’s a oneshot as my thanks :)🫶

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Zoro sat at the far right end of the tiny dining table in the Going Merry’s kitchen. Despite being surrounded by his fellow Straw Hats, Zoro had his eyes closed and his arms loosely crossed in front of his torso.

Like at most mealtimes, the other crew members were far too engaged in their lively chatter and harmless bickering to notice that Zoro was trying to sleep.

Instead of dozing off, Zoro could only think about the conversation he had with you last night—how the two of you, both unable to fall asleep, gazed up at the stars.

Every word, every sensation, replayed in his mind—from the midnight waves that lulled the ship to the way his name softly rolled off your tongue like a siren’s song—

“Zoro.”

He heard you call his name at the table, pulling him from his recollections. His thin, dark eyelashes fluttered, but he didn’t crack his eyes open. He was too tired to do so.

“Zoroooo!” Luffy stretched his neck from his seat at the head of the table to the end of the table where Zoro sat. The captain didn't hesitate to place his mouth right next to Zoro's left ear. “WAKE UP!”

Zoro’s eyebrows furrowed just a bit as Luffy’s voice pierced his ears. The stoic swordsman opened his eyes, his brown orbs glittering with annoyance. “I’m awake.”

Luffy cackled before snapping his head back in place and turning his attention back to his breakfast of potato bacon soup with a loaf of bread.

“Good morning, Zoro,” your smile, albeit sheepish, eased Zoro’s fatigue a bit. “We were talking about how it would be nice to have official portraits of ourselves, so I offered to draw everyone’s portraits after we all finish eating.”

“I’ll practice my poses!” Usopp chimed in, comically pursing his lips and sucking in his cheekbones to appear like a model. “You know what I always say, if I didn’t join this crew, I would’ve been a model by now.”

“Sure you would’ve,” Zoro couldn’t help but respond with his usual sarcasm, earning him an offended look amped up for dramatics from Usopp.

“Would you like to have your portrait drawn, too, Zoro?” You leaned forward with your elbows resting on the table, giving him a hopeful smile.

Even though Zoro didn’t really care for having his portrait done, and even though he would usually say “no” at any given chance to anyone concerning anything, there was no way Zoro could say “no” to you.

Plus, you drawing his portrait would mean the two of you would get to spend more quality time together. No way would Zoro pass up that chance.

“Mm,” Zoro answered, his voice rumbling an octave lower due to his drowsiness. “I’ll go last.”

Despite Zoro’s nonchalant attitude, his heartbeat quickened when he saw your smile widen.

— — — — —

The setting you chose was a blue-and-white-striped seating area between two rectangular ivory windows in the main room that provided the area with ample lighting from the sun outside.

Zoro watched you pull up a chair a few feet away in front of the seating area for you to sit on while you would draw your portraits. As you placed your drawing papers and pencils on the pool table next to you, Zoro made his way to the far corner of the room to rest on a cushioned bench underneath a circular window.

With one leg propped up, Zoro shifted to get comfortable on the bench and rested his left arm across his torso.

Finally. Zoro shut his eyes, but his ears couldn't shut out the voices of everyone around him.

The first person you drew was Luffy, who would ask you a fleet of questions like “What do you think we’re gonna see at the next island?” or “Wanna know about the craziest dream I had last night?”.

As much as Zoro was (endearingly) used to Luffy’s enthusiasm by now, Zoro contemplated leaving to get some peace and quiet in his own room. He was about to open his eyes and do so before he heard your laugh.

“Luffy! Stop changing your face!” You giggled at how Luffy stretched his mouth out a mile wide.

“What? I’m trying to give you the biggest smile I can!” Luffy’s words jumbled together with his mouth still wide open, only making you laugh more.

That melodic laugh of yours was one Zoro could listen to all day and night no matter how tired he was. He continued to sit on the bench, but his eyes were now open and fixed on you and the rest of the crew around you.

The next person you drew was Usopp, who kept twisting and turning his face and body in hopes of looking like a supermodel.

“Just relax, Usopp,” you chuckled, putting your pencil down.

“I can’t relax,” Usopp threw his head back dramatically. “I’m Usopp, Supermodel of the Seven Seas. Make sure to get both of my good sides.”

Pfft. Zoro let out an amused huff under his breath at the same time you rolled your eyes at Usopp, who simply shot you a cheesy grin.

After Usopp was Sanji, who took off his pink chef’s apron from making brunch to don his usual black suit blazer over a striped blue dress shirt and black pants.

The first thing Sanji did was lay sideways on the couch with his body facing towards you. He propped an elbow up and rested the side of his head on his palm.

“Draw me like one of your French girls,” the cheeky chef winked at you, snickering at his own playfulness that betrayed his flirty facade.

“If you say that again, I’m throwing you overboard with nothing to save you but a door to float on,” you threatened, but you couldn’t help but cackle.

Your portrait session with Sanji couldn’t end soon enough. Zoro felt his usual mild annoyance towards the cook grow as he watched you and Sanji exchange popular references like they were your and Sanji’s inside jokes.

Luckily for Zoro, in a matter of minutes, you finished Sanji’s portrait and began drawing Nami. The Straw Hat’s navigator sat straight with perfect posture, and donned a sincere smile that softened her usual serious expression.

While Luffy, Usopp, and Sanji already had their portraits done, they stayed to hang out. The three of them pulled up chairs to the pool table, each taking one of your extra drawing papers and pencils to draw something of their own.

Luffy and Usopp’s eyes were fixed on their papers. Zoro guessed with a small smile that Luffy was probably drawing something food-related while Usopp was probably drawing himself.

Sanji, on the other hand, had his gaze fixed on Nami. Sanji was skilled and swift with his pencil strokes as he was with a chef’s knife, and anyone who looked at him at that moment would see a smile of genuine admiration on his face as he studied Nami.

Zoro turned his attention from the others back to you. He noted the way your gaze would shift between your paper and Nami as you sketched her.

He also noticed the slight pout your lips formed when you were completely in your element, focused on capturing the subject onto your paper.

The six of you fell into comfortable silence, and Zoro chose not to make any large movements as he basked in the warmth of the afternoon sun that glimmered into the room through the windows.

It was a rare moment like this where the entire crew was together in one room, not laughing or bickering or talking, but simply enjoying each other’s presence.

— — — — —

Zoro didn’t hesitate to get off the bench and make his way over to you once you handed Nami her portrait. He rotated one of his arms, trying to get out any kinks from his shoulder blades.

Unfortunately for Zoro, Sanji was the first to notice him.

“Looks like someone didn’t get enough beauty sleep in time for his portrait,” Sanji teased, earning a mild glare from Zoro.

The rest of the crew chortled in good nature, and before Zoro could respond with a biting comeback, you blurted out, “Zoro always looks good, though.”

Zoro barely had time to register what you just said, even when you covered your mouth with your hand in embarrassment.

Sanji, Usopp, and Nami quickly displayed all-knowing smirks on their faces, while Luffy piped up, “Sanji, I’m hungry and I wanna eat a snack.”

Zoro subtly sucked in the inside of his right cheek to stop himself from smiling at your statement right then and there. If he smiled, he’d never hear the end of it from the others.

“Ok, everyone who’s had their portraits done, out,” you turned your back to the crew, fumbling with your pencils and papers on the pool table. “And yes, go eat snacks or something.”

“Ok!” Nami, Usopp, Sanji, and Luffy all saluted you at the same time. The first three shared a mischievous look before all four of them skedaddled out of the room.

Once they all left, Zoro’s lips eased into the smallest of soft smiles as he made his way to stand next to you.

Zoro couldn’t decide between saying “Hey” or “What’s up?” to sound cool now that the two of you were alone, so he bent down slightly, peering at the portraits you drew of Luffy, Usopp, and Sanji that they had forgotten to take with them.

Zoro didn’t know much about art, nor did he have much of an eye for it, but even he could tell you were good at it. His eyes followed the charcoal lines of the three crew members’ features—Luffy’s scar, Usopp’s dimples, and Sanji’s stubble—and how perfectly you captured them on paper.

“Nice,” Zoro murmured. His eyes moved up from the portraits to you, only to find your eyes already on him.

“Thanks,” you gave him a grateful smile, fiddling with the pencil between your fingers.

“Where do you want me to be?” Zoro straightened up, but his eyes never left yours.

“You can sit right there between the windows,” you broke his gaze and pointed to the spot.

Zoro nodded, going over to the seating area between the two windows. He removed his three swords from the leather strap at his hips to sit down.

Instead of placing his swords to the side or on the floor, Zoro wrapped his right arm around his swords, his bicep flexing as he did so.

In his natural sitting position, Zoro sat up straight, his posture perfect from years of training as a swordsman. However, he wanted to appear casual, so he rested his left leg over his right and put his left hand in his pant pocket.

“Can you draw my swords, too?” Zoro’s eyes flicked back to yours.

“Yeah, of course,” you smiled, plopping down onto your chair with a blank piece of paper and your pencil ready.

Zoro then noticed the charcoal pencil smudges that caked your fingertips. He realized that throughout all the portrait sessions, you never once took a break.

He cleared his throat. “You should take a break.”

“What for?” Your eyebrows lifted in confusion.

“Just noticed you haven’t taken a break since you began drawing us,” Zoro stated. His tone came out flat but the way his eyes softened at you conveyed his care. “Go drink some water, or wash your hands, or something.”

Zoro didn’t realize that he probably sounded more blunt than he meant to, but your eyes only flew down to your hands.

“I’m good, but thank you for thinking of me,” you cracked a huge smile. “Actually, wanna hear a fun fact about me?”

Zoro nodded. He found himself curious that you didn’t wipe away or wash off the pencil smudges on your hands yet.

“I like keeping pencil smudges on my fingers until I’m done with a drawing or an art project,” you gently rubbed one of your fingertips, but the charcoal smudges remained. “It’s like marks that show I put my best effort into what I drew.”

“I get it,” Zoro glanced down at his left palm, which had hardened over the years from calluses he gained from swordsman training. “That’s how I feel about my calluses.”

He couldn’t contain a chuckle when you leaned forward in your seat, your eyes widening with intrigue as he held out his left palm to you.

The skin of his palm was rough, battered with Zoro’s badges of honor that were his calluses. He never really looked at his calluses much, but the way you marveled at them like the stars you marveled at last night made Zoro’s chest puff up a bit with pride.

“Very cool,” you grinned, leaning back in your seat. “Are you ready to get your portrait drawn, Roronoa Zoro with the cool hand calluses?”

An easy laugh escaped Zoro’s lips as he sat up a bit and repositioned his hands to his former pose. “Yep.”

You turned your focus to your paper and pencil, and your head tilted downwards a bit as you brought your pencil down to the paper.

Before you could begin your sketching, Zoro racked his brain for anything witty or funny to say, not wanting to waste the opportunity of having this alone time with you.

“Don’t get my bad side,” Zoro joked, but his words accidentally came out as serious with the stoic expression he kept for his portrait pose.

“You don’t even have a bad side,” you murmured without hesitation, your eyes still fixed on the paper as you began drawing him.

Zoro’s lips broke into the widest grin he had on all day. He turned his head to the right in an effort to hide his flustered expression, but he couldn’t stop his eyes from turning upwards and his eyebrows from lifting.

“Shit,” Zoro mumbled as low as he could, but his growing smile and movements utterly betrayed him.

“Ack, Zoro! Don’t move!” You grumbled at him.

Zoro hid his face in his right shoulder. Both of his shoulders shook as he let out a hearty laugh.

“I’ll never get your portrait done at this rate,” you huffed.

“Good,” Zoro replied with nonchalant defiance. He turned his face back towards you, peeking at you from underneath his eyelashes as you turned your gaze back to your paper.

Zoro’s eyes first saw how the sunlight hit your face, how the gold flecks of light saturated your irises and illuminated every imperfection on your face he thought was perfect.

If Zoro could draw half as well as you could, he wouldn’t hesitate to draw you right then and there.

He wasn’t the artist, but here he was, studying you—taking in every upward quirk of your lips, every back-and-forth of your gaze from your paper to him, every movement you made—and trying his best to capture them all with the sharp pencil that was his memory.

It was only the two of you in the room, and you were only a few feet away in front of him, but Zoro couldn’t help but feel that you were so far away from him.

With the comfortable silence between you two, Zoro’s mind filled with the conversation he had with you last night.

— — — — —

“That’s Orion’s Belt,” you had pointed up to a constellation made of three stars last night. “Those three bright stars.”

Zoro turned his eyes up to follow your finger. “Who’s Orion?”

“Supposedly a demigod huntsman who passed and was placed up in the stars,” you hummed. “Wait, you’re kinda like Orion! With being a former pirate HUNTER and having THREE swords.”

Zoro brought his gaze back down from the stars to you.

“That’s a reach,” he scoffed. Zoro took a leisurely step back, the wooden floorboard of the Going Merry creaking a bit under the weight of his boots.

A crooked smirk glimmered on his face as he reached his hand up to the direction of Orion to humor you. “Literally.”

You chuckled, playfully nudging his shoulder. “Really? I thought there wasn’t anything Roronoa Zoro couldn’t do. Even reach for the stars.”

He wasn’t one to care for fluffy words or compliments, but your comment—and the way you spoke with such faith and confidence in him—sparked meteor showers in Zoro’s heart.

Zoro tried to avoid touching the back of his ears, which grew as hot as the stars. He shifted his body to rest his palms against the polished wooden railing of the Going Merry.

“Why do people like looking at things that are far away?” His eyebrows furrowed up at the stars in an attempt to change the subject.

“I think it’s because since the stars are so far away, all anyone can do is look at them and try to draw them,” you gazed up at the sky. “To capture that moment of seeing something that feels so far away from you but is so beautiful that you can’t help but want it near you.”

— — — — —

Zoro remembered not really understanding your words last night about people’s fascination with stars.

He didn’t get why people would yearn for something they couldn’t have.

Now, watching you as you drew him in daylight, Zoro understood what you meant.

You were physically near him a lot, bright and warm like a star he found himself wanting to get closer to, only to be reminded of the possibility that seemed as wide as a light-year that you might not feel the same.

He was lucky and he wasn’t. He could admire you up close but he had to keep his romantic feelings for you at bay.

Wait, scratch that.

Zoro was never one to believe in luck.

At his core, he was one to never back down from a challenge—to fight for what he wanted.

He didn’t know how you felt about him other than you regarded him as a close friend like he did with you, so there was a possibility he could get rejected.

Thus, Zoro’s pride from not wanting to get hurt prevented him from outright asking you right then and there if you liked him, too.

For now, Zoro would fight his pride with every chance he could get to spend more time with you—to build up his courage to confess his feelings to you someday.

To reach for the star.

And if that meant moving and messing up during this portrait session to lengthen his time with you, he’d do it again and again.

Zoro bided his time before he decided to part his lips.

“Beautiful,” he mumbled.

“What is?” You inquired, not stopping your hand with the pencil.

“A star,” Zoro didn’t hesitate to answer, knowing his reply was so bizarre it would get your attention.

And it did, as your eyebrows scrunched together and your head flew to the sides to look for a star outside the windows or one that miraculously appeared near you and Zoro somehow.

“Which one? And where?”

A genuine chuckle escaped from his lips, turning your eyes back to his. He hoped his next words would anchor your attention on him.

“The one right in front of me.”

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[loveinhawkins]

The Championship Game of 1985 is only a quarter of the way done, and Eddie is already certain that it’s not going to be a Hawkins victory.

It kinda blows, honestly. It’s boring, like correctly guessing the ending of a movie five minutes in.

And yeah, sue him, maybe high school basketball is a legitimate source of entertainment—he can admit that in the safety of his own head, at least.

Take, for example, the first game of the ‘83 tournament, when a timeout was called with only seconds remaining: the Tigers’ last hope of winning was to miraculously sink a shot with the fraction of time they had left. The tension in the air was palpable as the team formed a huddle—Eddie couldn’t hear anything apart from students chanting, but he stood on his tiptoes and found a gap in the crowd, just in time to read Steve Harrington’s lips: “I’ll make it.”

And he had—with a goddamn stunning full-court jump shot, too, the ball falling through the net just before the buzzer sounded.

Like, come on. Eddie would only admit it under pain of death, but that definitely rivals the intensity of any worthy campaign.

But he can see none of that excitement now. The Tigers have had few opportunities to even get the ball, and whenever they do, Billy Hargrove seems to have taken it upon himself to hog the damn thing, like it’s a symbol of his masculinity.

Of course, he loses the ball—again—and his nostrils flare with anger.

Maybe that’s why Eddie notices it. He’s checked out of paying attention to the game itself, instead focusing on the jaded expressions of Hargrove’s teammates.

As the ball makes its way down center court, Eddie’s eyes are instead drawn to Steve Harrington. He looks pissed, wiping sweat off his forehead and shouting what looks like some pretty choice words at Hargrove’s back.

Hargrove doesn’t seem to acknowledge it, but for just a moment he goes completely still, and all Eddie can think is danger.

It’s covert, the way it’s all done. Hargrove’s move is quick and calculated; he steps far enough away afterwards that it looks like the whole thing is the fault of a rival player.

But Eddie sees the subtle shove. Sees Steve lose his footing.

He goes down hard.

Winces ripple through the audience. Eddie hears Robin Buckley from band suck air through her teeth, then ramble, “Shit, do you think it’s really bad? Beth Wildfire, on my soccer team, her bone, like, came out of her whole knee, you could see it, must’ve been six inches—”

It doesn’t look like anything as gory as that has happened; Steve is already up, and from the redness of his face, it initially seems as if the only thing that’s been hurt is his pride.

But as Eddie sidles to the end of the front row, within earshot of the bench, he sees that Steve can’t put his weight on one ankle, sees the telling way he grits his teeth while speaking.

“I can keep going,” he says, even as Jason Carver’s getting pulled up to replace him.

The coach barely spares Steve a glance, clapping Carver on the shoulder as he jogs onto the court.

“Get someone to take you over to the nurse.”

Steve’s spine goes rigid. “But I can—”

“Look, I don’t have time for this.” The coach finally looks at Steve directly, pointing a stern finger at his chest. “You’re benched, Harrington.”

Steve visibly deflates. He opens his mouth, but no words come out, and then he glances to the side, as if suddenly aware that he’s drawing attention to himself.

This time, when his teeth clench, Eddie thinks that it’s more from embarrassment than pain.

“Whatever,” Steve mutters, and he limps out of the hall—close enough that he clips Eddie by the shoulder as he goes.

Eddie doesn’t know that he’s made a decision until he’s already moving, stepping to the side.

He turns and heads for the exit.

There’s a jeering call from the bench: Mark Lewinsky.

“Aw, what are you gonna do, Munson? Nurse him back to health?”

Obscene moaning noises, punctuated with laughter.

Eddie rolls his eyes.

He finds Steve in the corridor, bracing himself with a hand against the wall. There’s a couple of pictures on the floor, class photos taken for the yearbook that had been pinned up; Steve must have inadvertently torn them down as he grappled for balance.

“Go away, Munson,” he says without looking. “Go back to the game.”

“I’ve kinda lost interest,” Eddie says lightly. He manages to watch Steve take one painful step before he simply can’t do it anymore—stepping forward, he says, “Christ, Harrington, here.”

Steve jolts away from his hand. “Fuck off, I don’t need—”

“Well, fuck you too, then,” Eddie snaps. Something’s burning in his chest, a sudden and fierce hurt. “Jesus Christ. You know what I am isn’t fucking catching, right?”

He shocks himself by saying it.

In the silence that follows all he can think is that, for once, his dad was right: he never did learn how to shut his damn mouth.

Steve’s staring at him, pressing his back against the wall like it’s the one thing keeping him upright.

“That’s—that’s not why—” He breaks off, looks completely lost.

Somewhere within Eddie’s own mortification, he takes pity on him.

He sniffs, tries to act nonchalant. “Don’t hurt yourself, man.”

“No, I—I didn’t mean…” Steve sighs. “I’m sorry. That’s not—I just meant—” He pushes off from the wall again, wobbles until his hand finds purchase. “Just meant I can do it myself.”

Eddie feels his heart rate slow. He tilts his head. Re-examines Steve’s posture: the set to his jaw, the pained determination.

Years ago, Eddie broke his wrist at the fair, thanks to an awkward crash while on the bumper cars. It was the first summer that staying at Wayne’s had become a permanent thing, and Eddie had hidden his wrist beneath the folds of his too-large leather jacket, but Wayne met him off the ride and immediately noticed (“Chrissake, Ed. I’m not mad, kid. Just… lemme help you?”).

Eddie tried to stay silent as he got wrapped into a splint, because anything else felt like admitting to something.

Felt shameful.

“Yeah, you can,” Eddie says, shrugging. He pauses. Takes a chance. “Doesn’t mean you have to, though.”

He moves forward again—slower this time. Offers his hand.

Steve takes it.

“For the record,” he says, grunting as he shifts his weight, “I could’ve kept playing. Like, I’ve had worse.”

Yeah, Eddie thinks, you sure have.

Steve clearly hasn’t sensed that Eddie’s thoughts have gone to how messed up his face was last winter, because he keeps talking.

“Anyway. My own damn fault.” A rueful grin. “Didn’t plant my feet.”

“Don’t,” Eddie says. “You don’t have to… I saw. I saw Hargrove, man.”

Steve scoffs quietly. “Yeah, of course you did.”

“Shit, Harrington, way to make me sound like a stalker.”

“No, it’s just—” Steve shakes his head. “Just typical, that’s all. Remember when the fire alarm went off, last spring? You were the only one who noticed Debbie Lyons was missing.”

“Uh, so?”

Steve smiles. “So… you notice things.”

Eddie doesn’t know what to say.

But he gives it a try as they round another corner.

“What the fuck is Hargrove’s problem with you, dude?”

Steve chuckles wryly. “I’m really annoying.”

“Yeah, fair enough,” Eddie says, grinning when Steve manages to elbow him in the ribs. “But not, like, ‘intentionally injure’ levels of annoying. He threw the game, too.”

“Huh?”

Eddie fixes Steve with a pointed look. “Took out one of our best players.”

Steve rolls his eyes, but still looks undeniably pleased. “Shuddup.” He sobers in the space of taking another step and says, “With Hargrove, it’s… there’s bigger things than basketball, y’know?”

Eddie hears the just drop it underneath what’s spoken. He nods.

They’re almost at the nurse’s office when Steve sighs. “S’not exactly how I pictured it.”

“Hmm?”

“My last game.” Steve winces slightly as they inch closer to the door; Eddie tries to take more of his weight. “Had it in my head that I’d win, go out on a high.”

Eddie’s staring down the prospect of repeating senior year again—he knows all about having ideas in your head that don’t quite pan out.

“Life isn’t like a movie, Harrington,” he says.

It comes out perhaps more fond than he intended.

For some reason, Steve starts laughing like he’s heard something downright hilarious. “Yeah, gonna have to agree to disagree on that one, Munson.”

In the nurse’s office, they find out Steve’s probably got a bad sprain rather than a fracture (“See? I totally could’ve kept playing,” Steve insists), but that he should get it checked out at the hospital, just in case.

Ice pack in one hand, Steve makes a call on the office phone, with what sounds like a morbidly curious teen on the other end: “No, dude, there’s no blood—can you be normal for, like, two seconds and put your mom on? Thank you.”

As Steve hangs up, Eddie is very aware that the right time to leave was probably five minutes ago.

He stays put.

“This was supposed to be my last game, too,” he says.

“Was?”

Eddie clicks his tongue. “Well. S’not confirmed yet, haven’t had my last test results back. But uh, it’s kinda like the game.” He nods in the direction that they came, towards the basketball court. “I already know which way it’s gonna go.”

There’s no judgement in Steve’s eyes. “Sorry. Must’ve been boring to watch.”

Eddie smiles. “Nah, you’re good.”

He doesn’t say that, in his eyes, Steve’s single-handedly given the school almost all of its memorable basketball moments. That his secret favourite one isn’t even a Tigers victory: there was a game when Steve was poised to take the winning shot, and a kid from Connersville fainted.

In the few seconds of confusion, Steve could’ve still taken the shot. He could’ve won.

But as soon as he realised what was going on, he refused to.

To Eddie, that says more about him than any triumph ever could.

The phone rings again; the nurse is letting a Mrs Henderson in at the front of the school to pick up Steve.

“Guess that’s my cue,” Eddie says, because there’s only so many people allowed in the office at one time.

“See you, Munson. Um, thanks, by the way. Hope next year’s championship is, uh, better.”

There’s something in the way he says it, like even while still in the building, he’s drifting away, high school in his rear view mirror.

Oh, Eddie thinks wistfully, you’re already halfway outta here, aren’t you?

Goddamnit. I might actually miss you, Steve Harrington. You and your stupid hair.

“Hmm, can’t see myself going to watch next year.”

“Oh, yeah? How come?”

Eddie lingers in the doorway. Maybe it’s the fact that in a few weeks they’re never gonna see each other again. Maybe that helps him say it. Makes him a little braver.

He’s never learned to shut his damn mouth.

“My favourite player’s leaving,” he says.

And sure, he leaves barely a second later; he’s not that brave.

But he stays just long enough to catch Steve’s smile: startled, pleased, and perhaps just a little shy—like he’s made the winning shot after all.

[devildom-moss]

Signs of Affection (kiss)

Part 2 of this request (Lucifer, Leviathan, Diavolo, Barbatos, and Simeon)

(Mammon x gn!MC) (Satan x gn!MC) (Asmodeus x gn!MC) (Belphegor x gn!MC) (Solomon x gn!MC)

(Suggestive)

Word Count: +4,100 (we aren't going to talk about the size difference between these shorts okay?)

Mammon

“Geez, that sucked. Two hours of silent studyin’ for an F? I got a different F for that guy: a big ‘fuck you,’” Mammon grumbled to himself with his hands folded behind his head as he walked out of his mandatory extra lessons – or rather, they could have been classified as lessons if he had actually learned anything. Instead, Mammon spent the first 5 minutes trying to read one paragraph four times and the next 3 minutes trying to read the following paragraph before he became acutely aware that the supervising professor for today was watching him. He was clearly disappointed and judgmental of Mammon’s ongoing failure to turn the page. For the rest of his lesson, Mammon alternated between daydreaming about you – twisting your image in his head into a variety of different scenarios from innocent dates to the most depraved acts – and counting how many times he could spot the first letter of your name on the page. At least with the latter, it looked like he was reading.

“Mammon! How was delinquent rehab?” you teased him from your spot on the bench outside of the class.

Mammon shrieked and jumped. “W-what the fuck are ya doin’ here?!”

“MAMMON!” The supervisor poked his head out of the door. “Stop yelling in the hall and go home before I decide to keep you for another hour.”

“Sorry, that was my fault, Professor Amy. I startled him.” You stood up and bowed slightly, hoping the astronomy – and somehow, simultaneously, art – professor would go easy on Mammon if you took the heat.

“Oh, it’s you.” You were right to hope; Amy’s tone instantly softened. “If you’re on your way home, please take this loudmouth with you.”

“Who ya callin’ a loudmouth, man?” Mammon growled. You cupped your hand over his mouth; better late than never.

“Yes, I’ll be on my way now. I was just waiting for Mammon to finish his lessons.”

“Does being an idiot pay off after all?” Amy mused aloud – mostly to annoy the muzzled Mammon. “Very well. Be safe on your way home.”

“Alright, thank you, sir.” You smiled at him and began to drag Mammon down the hall. You only uncovered his mouth once the professor had gone back inside, and you were safely out of earshot.

“’Thank you, sir,’” Mammon mocked you. “Fuck was all that? You ain’t fuckin’ that teacher now are ya?”

“No, you pervert. It’s called being polite. You’d probably get in less trouble if you tried it with a few of your professors.”

“What’cha doin’ bein’ all polite to him for, anyway? Guy’s not even a good teacher, and he clearly has a human kink. Just stay away from him.”

“I almost never talk to him outside of our classes.” You rolled your eyes at Mammon. His jealousy had been excessive recently. As a slight punishment, you decided to tease him. “And why do you know so much about human kinks that you can recognize it in someone else?”

“Shuddup. It ain’t like that!”

“Like what?”

“I don’t have a human kink or nothing,” Mammon yelled. His cheeks burned, and he blurted out, “it’s only you.”

“Sorry, what was that?” you teased, biting back your smile.

“I didn’t say shit. Forget it.” Mammon crossed his arms as he picked up his speed just enough to walk ahead of you, hoping to avoid showing you the blush that stained his face.

“Okay, Mammon.” You dropped it, allowing him a bit of his dignity.

You both walked in silence for a minute until, finally, Mammon slowed down and started to walk beside you again. His blush had calmed. He glanced to the side briefly, trying not to draw your attention, but you noticed and smiled at him. Why do ya always look so cute ‘n happy when you’re walkin’ home with me, huh? What gives? Mammon wondered. If something as simple as walking home could make you smile like that, you were going to start charming demons left and right, and Mammon had no intention of sharing any more of you than he had to. That’s why he was so annoyed by you being nice to that professor. Just thinking about the way that demon’s face softened around you was pissing him off.

Suddenly, Mammon remembered what you had said, and his cheeks reignited in a faint blush. Nervous and masking his shyness with aggression, Mammon asked, “Hey, were ya serious about that back there – about just waitin’ for me to get out?”

“Yeah, of course I was.”

“For real? Ya waited two whole hours?”

“For my favorite hole? Yeah.” You smirked.

“Shuddup!” Mammon’s face burned. “Now who’s bein’ a perv?!”

“At least we’re even.” You smiled sweetly, as if you hadn’t just said something so vulgar – on a public street, no less.

Mammon stopped in his tracks, confidence surging in him. You stopped and looked back, confused. He grinned. “Ya must really love the Great Mammon, huh?”

“Sure do,” you readily agreed.

“I knew it!” Mammon pronounced – as if the occasional doubt had never wandered into his head. While he still had the courage to act, Mammon grabbed the sides of your face and quickly placed a kiss on your cheek. He whispered in your ear, “Thanks for bein’ so sweet to me, MC.”

Before you could register what had just happened, Mammon took off running towards the House of Lamentation. He pulled out his phone, skillfully dodging random obstacles and other demons as he appeared to start typing something. Seconds later, your D.D.D. buzzed.

Mammon: First one home gets a real kiss from the loser. Deal?

You laughed and stared down the street, watching as Mammon increased the distance between you. There was no way you were going to catch up to him.

MC: Deal. 💛

Satan

Satan was utterly thrilled when he found out the library had finally received the book that he requested two months ago. He insisted upon checking it out immediately after class, and since you had studying to do anyway, you went along with him.

With his new book acquired, Satan joined you at the small table you had settled into and began to read. However, his attention’s lifespan was uncharacteristically short despite his initial excitement. Satan’s eyes wandered away from the page, drifting up to you. Each time he tried to refocus on the book, his gaze punished him for a failure to indulge himself by lingering on you.

Few things enticed Satan more than you – especially when you got that serious look on your face. He had tried to keep reading too many times to keep track of, and now he couldn’t bear to tear his eyes away from you again. So, he just sat there, watching you read over your notes, recopying the most relevant points on a fresh sheet of paper. You were being so diligent.

One of the awful things about demons is that the alarm bells that go off in your head when you think someone is watching you are stronger and scarier when that someone is a powerful demon – and the fear your innate human senses created under the predatory gaze of a demon like Satan, whose sin was a destructive and devastating wrath, was intense. It sent a shiver up your spine, and when you looked up to find Satan’s eyes locked on your face, you jumped in your seat slightly. He didn’t need to look so hungry.

“Please stop staring, Satan.” You looked away, trying to turn your attention back to your studies.

“You don't want me to stare at you?” Satan got out of his seat across the table and took the spot right next to you. He propped his chin up in his hand and stared at you up close, eyeing you up and down with a smug grin on his face. “I want to. What's the problem?"

“It’s a bit distracting to have your eyes on me.” That was at least mostly true. There was no need to mention he was also turning you on in public. “I’d rather you not just stare at me.”

“Is that all?” Satan laughed. “You don’t want me to just stare? Very well.”

Satan leaned in, slowly shutting his eyes, and kissed your cheek. His warm lips lingered on your skin and his hot breath tickled. You could feel another chill run up your spine when his eyes fluttered back open. Even when he pulled back, his mouth hovered just over your cheek.

Another set of eyes landed on you. From a few aisles away, another library regular was stunned in their spot, mortified to have witnessed the Avatar of Wrath kissing a human in the library – not that they hadn’t seen worse. They gave you an awkward wave before turning and walking in the opposite direction, abandoning the book they had been searching for.

“Satan,” you chided him.

“What?” Satan hummed, inching closer to your ear, and whispered, “Do you still want more?”

“Someone saw.” You felt a bit guilty about it, too. Their embarrassment matched yours; in fact, it may have been even worse. “Why did you kiss me?”

“I wanted to. And who cares if someone saw? What are they going to do about a kiss on the cheek? It’s fine.” Satan placed another kiss on your cheek before returning to whisper seductively in your ear, “Besides, we’ve done worse. Don’t act so shy and innocent now. Do you need a reminder of all the things we’ve done – or perhaps you’d prefer a physical demonstration?”

What did you do to deserve this? You were just trying to study.

Asmodeus

“You weren’t waiting too long for moi, were you?” Asmo rushed to the table that you had grabbed when you arrived. He had a grin on his lips, but that charming smile was a cover for the guilt and anxiety he felt about being fifteen minutes late for your date. He couldn’t figure out which pair of socks to wear to complement his boots and skirt – and in the end, he just ended up pulling on a pair of lace stockings. Usually, Asmo didn’t care if he was a little late, but the idea of leaving you all alone in a demon-infested night café didn’t sit well with him.

“I would have happily waited much longer – especially when you show up, looking this cute.” You smiled at him sweetly, and every inch of Asmo’s body burned.

“Ooh, you little charmer.” Asmo giggled. “Did you order yet?”

“Of course not; I wanted to wait for you.”

“Such an obedient human,” Asmo teased, leaning over the table and resting his chin on his hand. He stared at you affectionately.

“I’ve never been called that in my life.” You laughed, and that only made Asmo happier to have said it.

“Want me to go up and order? Just tell me what you want – other than me, of course.” Asmo got to his feet and waited patiently for you to relay your order. With a smile and a wink, Asmo booped your nose. “Excellent. Now make sure to enjoy the view.”

Before you could question him, Asmo spun around and walked toward the register. Each step was a deliberate effort to draw your attention to his legs and ass. Oh. That view. Asmo was a hopeless flirt, but he was awfully sweet, too. Besides, you couldn’t deny that it was a good view.

Unfortunately, as Asmo returned from placing the order, he was faced with the irritating realization that he was not the only view in the café. He caught a handful of demons leering at you – and one of them appeared to be approaching. Not on Asmo’s expensive, crystal watch. He hurried back to the table just in time to cut off the tall demon, placing his delicate hand over your shoulder possessively. With a haunting smile, Asmo stared them down. He announced – more to the other demon than to you, “I’m back, hun. Did you miss me?”

A shiver ran up the demon’s spine, and their eyes went wide. They weren’t about to square up with Asmodeus over a human – not after all the rumors they had heard about bloodlust being stronger in lust demons than those ruled by wrath. The demon awkwardly tried to escape by blurting out, “enjoy your date.”

The demon scurried away quickly, and you looked up at Asmo just in time for his menacing aura to dissipate. “That was weird, right?”

“Some people just can’t act right around cuties.” Asmo dismissed your worry with a lighthearted laugh.

“So, you get that a lot?”

“Sometimes, but I don’t mean me.” Asmo leaned down to whisper in your ear, “You’re so cute it’s drawing attention.”

“I’m not as cute as you, though.” You smiled. “Now, sit down with me.”

“Actually, I was hoping we could snap a few pictures first. Do you mind?”

“Sure, I guess.” You shrugged and started to stand, but Asmo used his hand that was still resting on your shoulder to push you back down into your seat.

“No need to get up,” Asmo cooed. He took a step back and leaned over your chair so he could get right next to your face and drape his arms over you. “This position is perfect.”

Asmo snapped a few pictures. With each one, he seemed to get closer until his cheek was pressed to yours affectionately. He asked you to make a half heart with your hand and completed it with his own. Then, catching you off guard, Asmo kissed your cheek tenderly, waiting a few seconds before finally snapping a picture. He immediately pulled his phone back and stood up to discreetly examine the photo. The shit-eating grin on his face spoke for itself. He was all too pleased with it.

“What was that?” You scoffed. You probably should have anticipated that level of physical affection from Asmo, but sometimes, he still surprised you.

“Hmm? Isn’t it obvious?” Asmo looked down at you, innocently tilting his head. “I had to mark my territory.”

“What?” Your eyes widened. Sure, Asmo was always teasing you and flirting, but you hadn’t quite expected that answer. Asmo giggled and bent over, getting indecently close to your neck.

“I had to mark you,” he repeated in a low, seductive tone. “Would you rather I leave a hickey on your neck right now instead? I’d be happy to.”

“Just be a good boy and sit down.” You sighed. It wasn’t that embarrassing, but all you could do was imagine Lucifer’s voice scolding you for indulging Asmo too much in public.

“Ooh, I do want to be your good boy. Okay.” Asmo grinned, biting back the urge to call you one of a myriad of unacceptable titles, and returned to his seat across from you. He pulled his phone out and started messing with it. “See, I’m behaving.”

You laughed. Something told you that he was not, in fact, behaving. It only took a few minutes of mindless chatting while he continued tapping away at his phone – a habit you were so accustomed to that it usually didn’t strike you as rude – for your suspicion to be confirmed.

Your D.D.D. buzzed with an alert from Asmo’s Devilgram. He posted the picture of him kissing your cheek with a pink heart emoji covering your face – for the sake of your privacy. That was decent of him. You smiled softly, certain that Asmo was watching you. It already had over 6k likes by the time you scrolled down to read the caption: Ugh. My date is so cute that they’re attracting all sorts of attention. No one else deserves to see that cute face tonight but moi~ What do you think, everyone, should I mark them for myself?  

Asmo was spared a playful lecture when his name was called at the counter. You got up to help him carry the drinks and food back to your table. The barista seemed to be staring at you, but when Asmo put his finger up to his lips, they got flustered and looked away, returning to their work. Covering your face in the picture served another purpose: Asmo was hiding the gloss mark he left on your cheek. You didn’t need to know about it yet.

Belphegor

Belphie was lucky that you had chosen to sit in the back of the lecture hall where he could comfortably lean up against your shoulder and fall asleep without immediate repercussions. At least he was polite enough to nap on the shoulder for your non-dominant hand so you could continue to take notes as you listened to the lecture. Occasionally, you glanced down at his sleeping face; he looked so sweet, peaceful, and adorable.

The clock ticked down the few remaining minutes of the lecture, which was your cue to begin the wake-up process. Although Belphegor seldom cared what his brothers or the professor thought about him using you as a pillow during class, you found that it was easier to just wake him up before the complaints came rolling in. You set your pen down, pet Belphie gently, and whispered his name so that only he would hear you. A soft moan left him, and he nuzzled into your arm before leisurely opening his eyes with a content smile.

“Good morning, MC.” Belphie whispered into your ear.

Reluctantly, Belphegor forced himself upright and away from the warmth of your body just in time for the lecture to be dismissed. The professor and other students gathered their things and collectively made their way towards the doors. You, however, waited on Belphegor to shake off his nap and get to his feet.

“C’mon, MC. Catch up,” Mammon shouted from the front of the class.

“Give us a second,” you replied at a lower volume.

“Man, you two are so slow. I ain’t waitin’ around forever.” Mammon groaned and made his way slowly towards the door.

“He would know slow,” Belphie muttered just loud enough for you to hear as he stood up.

“Belphie,” you chided him, but your tone went ignored.

“Hey, can I borrow your notes later? Maybe we could review together.” There was a soft, sweet neediness in Belphie’s voice.

“Didn’t you catch the lecture in your sleep like you usually do?” Sometimes Belphie’s ability to remember things that happened around him while he was asleep creeped you out. He was like an unassuming monitoring device if he wanted to be.

“Indulge me.” Belphie knocked his shoulder against yours playfully.

“I always do, don’t I?” You sighed. That was the unfortunate effect he had on you: you always found yourself spoiling him, even when he didn’t deserve it – or rather, especially when he didn’t.

You were just about to walk into the hall when Belphie grabbed your hand and pulled you back into the classroom before the others spotted you. He played with your hand, caressing you with his thumbs. His cheeks were stained light pink as his eyes flitted from your hand to your face.

“What’s the matter, Bel?”

Belphie closed the distance between you, springing forward to kiss your cheek. The sudden movement surprised you, but it wasn’t especially shocking; Belphegor had always been physically affectionate. He inched closer, causing his hot breath to ghost over your skin. His lips curved into a precious grin as he whispered in your ear: “Thank you for always spoiling me.”

The honey-sweet tone of Belphie’s voice was undercut by a sharp yell from the corner of the room. “I saw that.”

It was Solomon. He stopped shoving his books into his bag to glare at the back of Belphegor’s head. Unfortunately for Solomon, Belphie wasn’t bothered; he simply rolled his eyes and shrugged.

“Cool shit, bro.” Belphie replied in a condescending tone and lifted his arm up in the air to flip Solomon off. You watched Solomon’s jaw drop slightly as he physically recoiled. Sometimes Solomon forgot how rude Belphegor could be. It was hard not to laugh, but you really shouldn’t encourage his bad behavior by laughing. “Come on, MC. Let’s go.”

Belphie grabbed your arm and dragged you into the hall. He was attached, and he had no intention of letting you go anytime soon. In fact, he planned to stay glued to your side until his desire for your attention was fully satisfied.

Solomon

The warmth of Solomon’s hands as he caressed your cheek was nothing compared to the warmth of his praise and your own pride swelling in your chest. Solomon hummed, “You did such a good job.”

You had successfully used a heating spell on the first try, evidenced by the warmth in Solomon’s previously cold hands. It had been a while since you got a spell that Solomon taught you perfect right away – let alone one that required you to manipulate another person’s body (and you could worry about the ethical dilemma involved with that later). Neither of you had expected you to raise his body temperature at such an ideal rate and stop at the perfect temperature. Of course, Solomon trusted you not to hurt him, but he was impressed by your control. He wanted to test you further.

“Excellent. Let’s try something similar.” Solomon began to search his shelves for the right ingredients. He continued to talk as he scanned, “I want to see if you can cool down an external object with the same level of control. If you can do it, I’ll reward you.”

“Bring it on,” you accepted. Solomon offered you plenty of praise when you did well, but he so rarely gave you an actual reward for your work. It was exciting to imagine what you could earn. Maybe he would teach you a cool, secret spell or give you a magical item. But more motivating than a reward was the idea of making Solomon proud.

“That’s my apprentice – so eager,” he mused, grabbing a bottle of glowing red liquid.

“Oh, but no home cooking as a reward,” you added, sparing your future self from potential suffering.

Solomon whipped his head around with a pout before returning to his search. He found a beaker and brought everything to his desk. By then, the pout had reshaped itself into a smirk. “I didn’t have cooking in mind when I offered you a reward, so it looks like we have a deal.”

Solomon poured plain water and the glowing red liquid into the beaker. They failed to mix. You asked, “What do I have to do?”

It was simple – or at least that was what Solomon said. All you had to do was cool the contents of the container between 32 to 36 degrees below the freezing point of water. If the red substance dipped under 36 degrees below the freezing point of water, it would become unstable. If you failed, the ice and glass would break open. Solomon didn’t tell you anything about the red substance or what “unstable” meant for it. All you knew was that you had a four-degree margin of error.

“And you’re sure it’s safe?”

“I wouldn’t put my favorite apprentice in danger for a game, would I?”

With that reassurance, you focused your magic into the beaker. As the water slowly solidified, the red liquid became concentrated at the center until it was encased in ice. You just had to keep lowering it until something felt right. You stopped and nodded. Solomon inspected the beaker.

“A beautiful job,” Solomon praised you.

“Really? What did I do though?”

“I’ll tell you once the ice melts,” Solomon waved off your curiosity. “For now, it’s time for your reward. Close your eyes.”

You did as he instructed and listened to him moving about the room. His presence got closer until you could feel his warmth. He placed a soft kiss on your cheek, causing your eyes to shoot open and your face to burn. Solomon chuckled at your response.

“I could feel your cheeks getting warm. Did I embarrass you?”

“No. I was just surprised.”

“Really?” Solomon leaned in and kissed your cheek again. “I don’t know. Your face burns under my lips.”

“You’re a terrible teacher,” you retorted. That wasn’t what you were expecting, of course he flustered you.

“Oh? That can’t possibly be true. My adorable apprentice seems to be doing quite well,” Solomon laughed, all too pleased with his successful attempt to tease you. “You learn so quickly. Should we try something even harder? Think you can handle it?”

There was a seductive tint to his words, and you narrowed your eyes at Solomon. “Same shady reward system? Pass.”

“Nope,” Solomon leaned close, trying to entice you. How were you just now noticing how sweet he smelled? Was he wearing perfume or cologne today? You didn’t have time to linger on the thought. Solomon dropped his voice, and through a wicked smirk, he added, “even shadier. If you succeed, I’ll do whatever you ask for a full day.”

“And if I fail?” you asked cautiously.

“I get to punish you.”

(gift version - Beelzebub, Thirteen, Raphael, Mephistopheles)

A/N: These ones got really flirty. . . oh well. Uhm, leave me nice comments or something. I don't know. I feel like I'm forgetting to say something. . .

[star-suh]

The Jock and The Horny.

Choi Jongho x Male Reader.

cw: college au, top jongho, katoptronophilia, size kink, uniform kink, sweat kink, blowjob, cum eating, facial, hickeys, shower sex, exhibitionism, cruising(?), established relationship, pwp, reader is a bit taller than jongho.

an: here's the part II

—

jongho is one of the top football players of the university and his boyfriend y/n was always supporting him, screaming when he scores a goal. the thing is that everytime y/n sees jongho in his uniform the little pervert gets aroused, he loves how his boyfriend's bulge swings as if he was freeballing. 

the football game had already ended and all the players were in the locker room changing and bathing, the smell of sweat and musk filling the place. 

“hey jongho? you are not going to shower, you stinky ass?” one of the players mocked, drawing some laughs from the rest of the players. “of course i'm gonna shower but after everyone else is gone, i don't want to make you all feel bad when you see me naked” he blurted out. the whole room was busy laughing at the joke that no one noticed a figure entering the room and hiding itself.

“ok see you in the next game mr. big dick” they all waved goodbye while jongho was sitting half naked, with a towel wrapped around his waist.

“you can come out now. everyone's gone” he spoke. “fuck you smell so good” was the only thing y/n said before jumping on his boyfriend and eating his mouth with a desperate kiss.

y/n's hands were exploring every part of jongho's body feeling all the sweat of his body “you looked so fucking hot while you were playing” said the horny guy while jongho's mouth was leaving dark spots on his neck.

a big tent can be seen under the towel covering jongho's bottom half “someone's eager” he whispered, sending shivers down y/n's neck.

the shower was on, the water falling and splashing everywhere when it falls on the bodies of the pair of lovers. jongho is slamming himself inside y/n's tight hole while he is standing, hands against the walls. “you fuck me so good jongho” blurted out the bottom. “and you take me so well too” complimented the top.

y/n was getting railed dumb by jongho, the tip of his cock reaching that sensitive spot every time it enters. “so deep~” slurred y/n, his insides squeezing jongho's cock. “i like how you choke my dick” the smaller grabbed the taller's chin, turning his head so they could make out. a mix of water and saliva dripping down their intertwined tongues. 

later y/n knelt down and started sucking jongho's cock, moving his tongue up and down, licking every vein and then his balls, putting each one of them in his mouth. all that while jongho was moaning and saying things like how good of a cocksucker y/n is.

“that's right my boy leave it nice and wet” spoke jongho while slapping gently y/n's cheek and then making him suck his thumb. jongho turned off the shower, then he made y/n stand up and open his ass, letting jongho see his delicious hole "i can't believe that all this is mine. just for me" and with two strong spanks, jongho put all his cock in at once, getting a big moan from the bottom.

jongho lifted y/n with his strong arms folding him in a cannonball position and railed him like there was no tomorrow. “fucking shit jongho.. i.. i think you might break me if you keep fucking me like this” he pleaded.

“perfect” it's the only thing coming out of the top's mouth accelerating his pace. jongho walked while still fucking the taller until reaching where there was a mirror, grabbing y/n by his chin and forcing him to look into the mirror. 

his cheeks, ears and the back of his neck were tinted pink, it was embarrassing for him to see how that thick piece of his boyfriend entered and left his greedy hole.

jongho pulls out and went to bring a bench, positioning it in front of the mirror and commanded his boyfriend to ride him, all while jongho looked at the mirror. the mere idea of looking at his boyfriend taking him makes him so horny. 

“it feels bigger” moaned y/n feeling the cock throbbing inside him. “it's because you're so hot” murmured his boyfriend.

after some spankings and the constant riding y/n was getting ready to cum “i'm gonna cum” he blurted out. “try to shoot it directly in my mouth. come on score a goal” he teases rubbing y/n's balls with one hand while playing with his right nipple with the other. “fuck” cried the bottom trying to aim straight at his boyfriend's open mouth to fill it with his thick warm semen.

after riding his high y/n stared at jongho while he licked clean the rest of the semen that landed on his chest and chin “yummy” he said smacking his lips and licking them.

y/n knelt down again while his lover was stroking his cock very hard and fast “get ready to receive my seed on your pretty face”, moan after moan jongho finally came painting the face behind him in white, the gooey cum covering y/n's lashes and dripping down his cheeks “a masterpiece” laughed the top rubbing the tip of his cock on y/n's lips as a sign for him to open up and lick him clean.

“now let's shower for real” y/n grabbed jongho and went straight to the showers again, both started kissing again not realizing that all this time there was someone hiding in the showers with a rock hard thing between his legs.

[honeipie]

SEVEN

shoto todoroki x fem!reader

synopsis: you recognize his hair, his eyes, even his demeanor. but damn, you can’t remember his name.

song inspo: seven by taylor swift

author’s note: let’s also just pretend he got his scar at eight so it works with the song!

DAY 1

“i like your hair!”

shoto jumped in his spot from under the jungle gym not expecting anyone to find him. its not like you were trying to find him. you had just been trying to find places to put your treasure (sticks and mulch) then stumbled across the boy.

“sorry! didn’t mean to scare you but your kind of in my ship”

shoto looked around confused.

“this is a playground”

you huffed moving your body from the play structure going underneath with him.

“you don’t have much of an imagination do you? every time i come to the park i play pirates. and this is where i hide my buried treasure” you held your hand out with a smile “i’m l/n y/n, but just call me y/n!”

the first thing shoto noticed about you was the two bottom teeth you were missing. next was the overalls you were wearing accented with cute patches. he hesitantly placed his hand in yours.

“todoroki shoto”

“cool name! i think i’ll call you sho”

you sat crisscross next to him with a tilt of your head “so why are you down here anyway? kids usually play up there” you pointed above where you could hear laughter and the pounding of shoes hitting the metal. shoto shrugged looking down at his fingers.

“i’m not good at playing” he mumbled picking at his perfectly white sneakers.

enji would be extremely busy for the next three months trying to achieve that number one hero spot. it sucked up enough of his time to the point where he couldn’t train shoto like he was before. rei now had a mission to get her son out of the house as much as she could before enji came back to his regular routine.

“yeah i could tell” you sniffed a bit drawing some shapes in the mulch “but i could show you how! i mean we are friends now. i know your name and everything”

he was about to respond before a woman called out your name.

“i gotta go, but you’ll be here tomorrow right?”

shoto nodded, watching as you crawled out of the confined space “see you later sho!”

he sat there eyebrows scrunched together after the interaction.

DAY 2

“sho! are you here?” you asked laying flat on the metal to look underneath. there he was in the same spot as yesterday inspecting one of the sticks. his head lifted as you came down sitting across from him.

“are you ready to learn how to play?”

“uhm”

“you’re ready. i can tell” you shifted some of the mulch around into piles “so these over here is all my treasure. you don’t have any yet because you’re a new pirate. you get it?”

shoto shrugged at your words looking at his empty spaces “i think so..”

you peaked out of the entrance of the bottom “c’mere!” shoto crawled up next to you looking out “which one of your mom?”

shoto squinted then pointed to a woman far off sitting on a bench “she’s over there”

you nodded looking over at him with the same big grin from yesterday “that’s perfect! you see all the treasure that’s near her?” you pointed out the rocks laying near her feet.

“they’re rocks”

“yeah but when we play we pretend that it’s treasure okay?”

shoto nodded along attempting to get the gist of this.

“so we’re gonna have a plan so we can get your first pile of treasure. you can distract her while i take some of the treasure real quick! can you do that?”

“i think so. this is kind of like the hero missions my dad goes on. they make plans like this”

your eyes sparkled looking over at him “your dad is a hero? that’s so cool!”

“he’s not”

with that you shook your head starting to crawl out of the hole “let’s do this!” shoto climbed out slowly after you going all the way over to his mom.

“shoto?” rei shut the book she had been reading and held her hands out for him “are you alright?”

“i’m okay” out of the corner of his eye he noticed you go behind her to get the rocks you had been talking about.

“well did you need something? are you ready to leave?”

“no, i’m just supposed to be distracting you”

rei squinted her eyes in confused until she noticed you come from behind her proudly holding up the rocks “we got the treasure sho! now run!” you booked it back to the hiding spot with a delayed shoto right behind.

when the two of you sat back down you counted the rocks and split them between you evenly “not bad for your first heist! just next time when you’re being the distraction, don’t let them know you’re distracting them okay?”

“okay”

DAY 14

“sho!” you squealed excitedly swinging yourself underneath. shoto no longer flinched when he heard your voice. for the past two weeks he’s gotten used to your presence, and has been learning different games from you each day “guess what my mom said?”

“what?”

“you can come to the creek with us! it’s this really cool place fifteen minutes from here. just ask your mom if you can go! she can go with us to make sure you’re okay and talk to my mom so she’s not bored!”

shoto crawled out of the space and walked over to his mom with you bouncing behind him. rei smiled when she saw the two of you approaching her. deep down all she wanted to see was her kids be happy, and when shoto was with you, he was.

“mom? y/n’s mom said i can go to the creek with them. you can come too”

“please miss rei! it’s gonna be so fun!” you begged taking both of her hands in a plea. this made the woman chuckle.

“if you want to go then let me get my things”

“yay! cmon sho” you took his hand in yours getting a head start.

shoto didn’t mind you taking his hand or guiding him wherever you wanted to go. because where ever you went, he wanted to follow.

“here it is!” you stood on one of the rocks with your arms reached out. water flowed gently through the creek, glittering every time the sunlight hit it the right way “isn’t it pretty?” you asked reaching down to put your hand through the water. shoto leaned down to do the same thing.

“it is”

DAY 28

“you’re my best friend”

you blurted out of absolutely nowhere.

both you and shoto had taken your shoes off to dip your feet into the creek. he blinked at your words trying to decide how to respond.

“you’re my only friend”

this made you smile and gently knock your shoulder into him.

“that makes me the best doesn’t it?”

his head tilted when you said that giving him something to think about.

“it does”

you gently kicked your feet up getting some water on your calves.

“as my best friend, can i tell you something? but you can’t tell anyone else okay?”

“why are you telling me?”

“cause that’s what best friends do. they trust each other like that”

shoto wasn’t trusted with things. he was told what he should be doing, and he did it. so when he heard that you trusted in him, something inside him shifted. he relaxed his shoulders which always seemed to be tense.

“you can trust me”

you let out a sigh, picking at some of the dirt on your shorts.

“kids at school don’t really like me. i try to make friends, but i guess they don’t think i have cool clothes, or ideas.. or whatever”

for the first time shoto saw that light in your eyes fade, and he didn’t like that.

“why would they think that? you’re the coolest person i know” he watched as the smile started to creep back onto your face “and i really like your clothes. they don’t make a person cool or not. my dad has cool clothes and he sucks”

this made you burst out laughing, which made shoto grin.

“you’re funny sho”

DAY 57

“maybe your house is haunted. that’s why your dad’s such a jerk” you explained hopping to the next rock in front of you. shoto jumped onto the one that you were just on.

“you think the haunted house is making him hate me?”

you stepped back onto land with a sigh.

“you’re right that doesn’t make sense.. well what if you came and lived with me! we could play pirates everyday and read stories every night”

that did sound promising. being able to live in a home that wasn’t his.

but he couldn’t.

“i don’t want to leave my mom alone with him”

“that- that makes sense” you crossed your arms frustrated at the situation. not long after your confession, shoto let you in about his father and how horrible he actually was. you could see how it would affect him some days. the way he would lay his head against the trunk of the tree. bags growing under his eyes which isn’t normal for a kid his age.

“ugh! everything is just so stupid!” you picked up a rock about the size of you whole hand and slammed it into the water resulting in a small splash.

“that was tiny”

“well it still helped! you try” you handed him a rock that was a little bigger “say something that make you mad and throw it in really hard”

shoto stood there looking at his rock before he started to reel it back.

“i hate my father!” the rock made a bigger splash then yours making the both of you laugh.

“nice one sho!” you went to pick up another big rock this time going to throw it yourself “the kids in my school are mean!”

“i want to play with my siblings!”

“i want to have nice clothes!”

the two of you continued to toss rocks into the creek, each of you stating something that just wasn’t right in you’re lives.

prime seven year old activity.

your threw rocks until the two of your small chests were heaving up and down.

“do you feel any different?”

“no”

“yeah, me either”

DAY 74

“did you know that the moon is 238,900 miles away?”

“of course i did”

you were currently reading out of your book on planets with shoto sitting right next to you peering over at the pages. you turned to him with a big smile.

“no you didn’t!”

“yeah i didn’t”

you laughed at his new, and growing, sense of humor. shoto pointed to a little doodle in the corner with a speech bubble.

“i love you to the moon and back. what’s that supposed to mean”

“it means you love someone a whole bunch”

“oh,” he turned to you “do you love me?”

“mhm! best friends love each other. that’s just how it works” you shrugged flipping the page “but i don’t just love you to the moon. i love you to.. saturn!” you pointed out your favorite planet to him.

“what’s the difference?”

“saturn is 912 million miles away. that’s a lot more than the moon” you let him sit with the new information as you reread all of the facts on the page.

“do you think we can go to saturn one day?”

“i sure hope so! maybe we can find some aliens up there. see what kind of stuff they do for fun”

shoto’s face scrunched up when you said that.

“aliens aren’t real”

“yes they are!”

“no..”

DAY 91

you walked towards the creek holding a box full of beads and string. you pushed past one last tree to find shoto already sitting there, feet in the water. that had been his favorite thing to do since he was introduced to this place.

“hey sho” you said sitting down next to him placing the box in between.

“hi” his eyes watched as you took off your own shoes and socks. there was a small, rare frown on your face as you dipped your feet in “what’s wrong?”

you pursed your lips out shifting them to one side, and then another “i have to go back to school tomorrow. summer break is over”

“oh” he had gotten so accustomed to his new routine that he hadn’t even thought about you leaving “are you sad about going back to school?”

“yeah”

“is it because the kids aren’t nice?”

“.. yeah”

you went to reach for the box unclipping the sides. taking off the lid, he noticed many colorful and differently shaped beads. plus string that could’ve been at least two feet long.

“what’s that for”

“i wanted to make friendship bracelets so we don’t forget about each other. i can show you how to make it. hold your wrist out”

you unwinded the ball of string while shoto extended his arm to you. carefully, you measured the size of his wrist then cut it. right before you could cut your own shoto took the scissors and the string.

“i can do yours” he gently grabbed your wrist going to cut the string at the right length. in all honesty he had made bracelets one time before with fuyumi, but he wasn’t going to mention it and take away your want to teach him.

“don’t you think it’d be cool if we went to the same school?”

“it would be nice,” shoto placed the scissors down “but my dad would never let me go to school. well, one that isn’t UA”

you looked up at the mention of the hero school “you want to go to UA? that’s so cool! you’re gonna be the number one hero and i’m going to brag to everyone that he’s my best friend” you showed him how you were going to pattern your beads, but he could do them however he wanted.

“do you want to go to UA? maybe we could be heroes together”

you thought about it as you slid a purple bead onto your bracelet “i don’t think so. my quirk isn’t really hero-like” shoto decided not to ask about your quirk, because he simply didn’t care. his whole life had been centered around quirks and didn’t want to talk about it further if you didn’t push.

the two of you spent the rest of the time talking. about school, and about the games you’ve played. right until you tied the bracelet securely on his wrist. it all white beads on it along with his name in the middle. complete opposite of yours, which looked like a rainbow puked on your wrist.

“that should be tight enough! but shake your arm around just in case” shoto shook his arm gently and you shook your head “no, you’ve gotta really shake it. like this” you wildly waved your arm over your head. it was enough to hear the jingle of the beads, yet they were still secure.

over these past three months shoto had decided to embrace your personality instead of fighting it. so he raised his arm up and shook it like yours. the boy got a little too committed to the bit and accidentally knocked himself beside the head with his arm.

“sho! you okay?” even with concerns in mind, you couldn’t help but giggle seeing him rub his head.

“that freakin’ hurt!”

you burst out in laughter which made him huff out in annoyance “i’m sorry! i just can’t help it-” you leaned backwards and ended up hitting your head on one of the tree trunks “ugh!”

shoto’s eyes widened and he reached over to help “you okay?” he asked but you heard a quiver in his voice. you looked up from your laugh to see a smile on his face and a small shake from his body.

he was laughing.

“i’ll be okay, but let’s not forget who did it first!” you huffed making him laugh more. smiling you cleaned up the rest of your beads. an alarm went off on your watch making your smile quickly fade “i gotta go now. my mom wants to get home to get ready for tomorrow”

shoto didn’t know what he was feeling, but it wasn’t good. his only friend was leaving. the only one who didn’t care about his quirk, or his dad. the only one who let him be himself whether he was being clueless, or a know-it-all.

the only person who saw him.

he opened his mouth to say a couple of words, but he was cut off feeling your arms wrap around him tightly.

“i’m gonna miss you” you mumbled into his shoulder. with reluctance, but care, he went to wrap his arms around you.

“me too,” he let out a quiet sigh letting his shoulders relax “do you think i���ll see you again?”

you were quiet, which had him spiraling. what if you didn’t want to see him again? what if this was all some big ruse and you didn’t actually like him. all this time, wasted just to-

“yeah i do. because i get that feeling people get. riiiight here!” you pulled away placing one hand in the middle of his chest. shoto’s brows scrunched together.

“my diaphragm?”

“what is that? no! i mean my gut!”

“yeah well you’re a little high”

“nuh uh!” you noticed the tiny smile that you had come to know “you’re messing with me” he chuckled as you got up and grabbed your things. another alarm sounded from your watch indicating that you really had to go “bye shoto. i’ll see you later okay?”

he watched as you walked away from the creek, and in part, away from him.

“okay, see you later”

DAY 3650

“mom i’m just gonna go really quick. i haven’t been in what three months?” you were walking from your school down to the old creek that you used to go to. you didn’t go there as frequently as you used to but it was still a good spot when you needed serenity “i’ll do my homework there and i’ll see you later.. bye love you” you hung up the phone right as you passed the playground.

kids yelling to each other from each side of the jungle gym. it had been majorly renovated since the last time you were on it. new slides and monkey bars, but they never changed the little cubby that you used to crawl into with an old friend.

you picked back up on your walk letting the memories come back to you one by one. the trees were a lot thicker than they were back then. harder to push aside without getting all scratched up.

the sound of rushing water could be heard from where you stood. you knew you were close.

“shit..” you mumbled noticing a cut you got on your calf. you hobbled closer to the creek with your eyes still down on the cut. which led you right into him.

you knocked into his back almost falling but his reflexes wouldn’t do that to you. he had his hand securely on your arm helping you stand in an upright position.

“thank you! i’m really sorry for bumping into you. i just got this cut and i wasn’t to focused on what was ahead of me” after fixing your clothes you finally looked up at your savior. your very familiar savior.

two different colored eyes. one side of his hair red and the other side white. you wouldn’t be able to forget those features. not even if you tried. the only thing that was new was a burn patch on one side of his face. you tried not to linger to much on that though.

by now he had let go of your arm placing his one hand back into his pocket “don’t worry about it. i should be going anyways” he grabbed his bag from under a nearby tree. as he walked away you felt a twisting in your stomach. you weren’t letting him get away again.

“i think i might know you” shoto stopped in his place turning back towards you “from.. when we were younger. my name is y/n, i used to come here with a friend who looked exactly like you. i’m sorry i just- i can’t remember your name”

his face didn’t move which made you more nervous each passing second.

“i’m sorry if you’re not him. it’s just that you two look so similar”

“my name is shoto. and i am familiar with you as well y/n"

"so formal" you chuckled quietly looking down at his uniform "you got in"

he looked down noticing that he was still wearing his school uniform.

"i did. what about you? did you try to apply?"

you shook your head laughing at his question "me? a hero? hell no. i don't have a hero quirk and i've come to terms with that. plus i don't think i'd want to do that for the rest of my life anyways. no offense" you went to sit down on a nearby rock near the creek. shoto still stood there stoic, and awkward "do you still have to go? if not it'd be nice to sit and catch up.. only if you want though"

shoto didn't look like it, but he was going through a whirlwind of emotions all at once. he had come here once a month since his first year. part of him just wanting a hidden space to think, the other part wondering if you'd ever pop up again. it was stupid to think that after ten years you'd randomly show up and you'd become best friends again, but here you were. sitting right across from him and offering a seat, and there was no way he wasn't going to take it.

taglist! @sagejin 🫶🏾

lmk if you want to be added

[the-masked-ram]

Sweet and Sour- Part One

CW: SFW, Slow burn, Eventual NSFW, Tags will change with each installment, Fem!reader, sassy reader, opposites attract

A/N: I am taking some liberties with Kaji and the Wind Breaker world with as much as we know about it. This is kind of canon divergent but not an AU

Kaji first met you when the sun was setting. Music was blaring in his ears, a sucker pressed firmly in between his teeth and cheek, and he was frowning down at his scuffed-up knuckles. That damned cat was far more trouble than it was worth. He pursed his lips; it was going to get fucking hurt one day. That thought, the thought that a part of the town that cared for him and accepted him and gave him purpose, might get hurt and wither like a dying flower caused a vicious twisting sensation in his chest.

---

He huffed and shook his head, pushing that feeling away. It was his job to make sure none of that happened. Even now that he was only in Bofurin and no longer in Furin, even though he was too old to truly be part of the school, it didn’t matter. Everyone who was ever once part of Bofurin never stopped. Not until they were forced to.

His gaze dragged along the park he’d found himself in, alone after a long day of patrols. He was still considered a cornerstone in Bofurin, but he was certain one day someone would take his place and that day he would need to find something outside that world that would carry him. Kaji just wasn’t sure what the resting beast inside of him would accept. He’d only known violence, he’d just found a way to channel it for good.

Only one bench had an opening, but you sat on the other side. He hesitated, uncertain, he didn’t want to be bothered now. But then he noticed the orange glow glinting off your headset, the gentle nod of your chin as you bobbed it in time with whatever music you were listening to while your fingers dug around a tin of candy.

His gaze slipped away from you, intending to avoid drawing your attention. He dropped onto the farthest edge of the seat, twirling the stick of the sucker so the candy rolled its welcoming sweetness against his tongue. Your head hadn’t even shifted in his direction.

It was strange, being part of Bofurin meant never getting a moment of peace. Something Kaji usually thrived in, he liked the noise, the rowdiness, even if he didn’t show it. Yet, it also meant when he needed a moment, just a second, to himself so he could think things over it was near impossible to find it. With a town member so close he imagined that you would start thanking him, making his spine stiffen and his hackles raise until something vulgar, and defensive came from his mouth, even if he tried to soften the blow of his words it never quite worked. You didn’t though.

In fact… Kaji tilted his head as he leaned back against the bench, eyes roving over you discreetly, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen you before. He wasn’t necessarily good with names, but he wasn’t terrible with faces. He was certain he’d remember yours too. You gave no acknowledgement of his presence though and there was something about it, something about you being there, smiling as you nodded along with your music, sucking on ume sour candy, and staring across at the sparkling horizon. Your silence was comforting, was welcoming without needing anything to be said, it was different, and Ren liked it.

“Here,” you said, holding out a bandage.

There was a piece of him, so small, that wanted to ask your name. It made his skin itch and his teeth grind with nerves, but he pushed it down. He was never the one to talk first. He didn’t want to encourage that. He’d rather be left alone right now; he was bothered enough by the others in Bofurin.

He looked down at the damage to his hand once again and sighed, soaking in the last of the warm rays against his jacket. A shadow fell in front of him, and he startled, looking up with his fist clenching in preparation.

“Don’t be an idiot,” you narrowed your eyes and tilted your head, challenging him.

Your headset was down around your neck and your cheek bulged with the candy. He scowled.

“Don’t need it,” he huffed, as he shifted his headset away from his ears.

“It’s just a damned scrape,” he grumbled, fighting to soften his voice. “I’ve had worse.”

“I’m sure you have, still… even the smallest thing can get worse. A scrape can get infected,” you said persistently and knelt down, ripping open the package and taking his hand in yours.

Instantly Kaji moved to pull back, but your fingers tightened, and you fixed him with a glare that had him freezing up. Not even Kotoha could do that to him. Your touch was delicate though even with the furrow to your brow as you pressed the bandage into place causing your face to morph into a pleased smile.

“Don’t be dumb, keep that on,” you said as you stood and dusted yourself, only to turn and leave.

Kaji could do nothing more than blink, a light flush burned his cheeks, and he couldn’t tear his eyes away from you as you walked away before the sun set completely. He definitely would have remembered you. Who the hell were you?

[myseungsunglove]

All you had to do was ask | Lmh

Pairing: Lee know x Reader 

Warnings: Smut, you won’t find any plot here 

Word Count:  2.6k

𖠫Summary: Some days you just can’t stop staring at Lee Know. Something about the way he moves draws you in and makes you ache in ways that should be embarrassing. Today, in one of the practice rooms of all places, you’re just bold enough to finally do something about it. 

✎A/N✎: I don’t know where this came from. It just popped into my head and begged to be written. Here you are. Hope you enjoy my totally and completely pure thoughts. 

◠ ◡ ◠᭚ιαᵕ̈

「© November 3,  2023 by mysweethannie」

Smut warnings: piv sex, unprotected sex (maybe don’t do this one, folks), semi-public sex

“You know, if you would actually fuck me instead of with your eyes, maybe you wouldn’t feel the need to stare so much,” Lee Know snarks, jolting you out of one of your shameless staring sessions. 

You couldn’t help yourself sometimes. During dance practice, Lee Know was often dripping with sweat and you couldn’t keep your mind from wandering. When he rudely interrupted your train of thought, you were contemplating what the sweat running down his thick neck would taste like and what those thick thighs would feel like between your legs, bringing you to the sweetest release.  

“Or maybe,” you deadpan, looking him in the eyes. “I’d  stare more because then I’d know what it’s like to have your dick inside me.”

If the other guys had been around, you would have held your tongue, but they’d all left an hour ago and Lee Know had stayed behind to help perfect your dance. 

You hold his gaze, not daring to look away and you notice the barely imperceptible jaw clench from Lee Know before his eyes rake over you, as he processes what you said. You can see him considering your words, his tongue poking out of his mouth to run over his bottom lip and immediately pulling it in between his teeth, subconsciously biting it in contemplation. 

“Do you want me inside you?” he asks, slowly walking towards where you’re seated on the cushioned bench of the practice room. 

Your cheeks heat up, the warmth spreading down your neck all the way down your body. The moment Lee Know sits down beside you, his thick thighs pressing against yours, your brain short circuits but thankfully your legs spring into action. You stand and move  away to give yourself some separation before your body has an opportunity to betray you. 

He doesn’t let you get far, grabbing your wrist, pulling you back toward him. He guides you to stand between his legs, boxing you in with his thighs. 

“Don’t get shy now, jagiya,” he teases, a smirk appearing on his stupid handsome face.

He grabs one of your legs, running his hand along your thigh and brings your knee to settle on the outside of his leg. You don’t resist the contact but instead, follow his lead and place the other knee on the other side of him, effectively straddling him. It’s not exactly the daydream he rudely interrupted, but it’s close enough to make you want to internally combust. 

He guides you to settle on his lap, and immediately your aching core is met with his hard bulge. And from the feel of it, he is big. 

“Fuck,” you breathe out, your hands linking together behind his neck as you try not to grind against him. His hands are hot on the skin of your hips, holding you firmly against him. 

“We could, you know,” he says, looking into your eyes. His eyes are piercing and serious. He pokes his tongue between his teeth and you can’t help but want to suck it between your soft pink lips, absolutely devouring him and pulling a sweet moan from his throat. 

Your brows knit together in confusion at his words, not following his insinuation. 

“We could fuck,” he supplies frankly when he realizes you don’t understand. “Maybe you aren’t the only one with a staring problem. I’d be lying if I said I’ve never thought about fucking you senseless right here in this room,” he admits. “The idea that I could be the sole reason you're dripping with sweat and panting… hmmmm,” he swallows thickly before he continues. “Though I do wonder if you could take me. It’d be a tight fit if that pussy is as tight and warm as I’ve imagined.” 

You can’t believe his audacity, but his words spur on your movements, your hips moving against him. Lee Know’s hands slip under your shirt to your bare back, guiding the movement of your hips against his. Goosebumps erupt across your skin, the pads of his fingers dancing along your now overly heated skin.

You run your hands along his firm chest and down his bicep, grabbing him by the wrist and bringing it in front of you. You hold his hand momentarily as you admire the veins that run along his arm and hand, your hips still mindlessly rutting against him. You momentarily think about sucking his fingers into your mouth, but your aching cunt has different ideas. You clench around nothing just thinking about him being inside of you. 

Lee Know watches you closely as you place his hand on your stomach underneath your shirt, and inch his fingers just into the waistband of your shorts. From there, the next move will be his to take. 

Leaning forward, you whisper into his ear. “How about you make sure I can take you then,” you challenge, nipping at him slightly before soothing the bite with your tongue. 

He moans obscenely, deep and guttural, and his hand pushes into your shorts. His fingers cup your heat as his palm presses firmly against your clit. You're already wet when he runs his fingers along the hem of your underwear and pulls them to the side, his thick fingers immediately coming in contact with your wet folds, swiping between them greedily and circling your opening. 

“I knew you had a slutty side,” he growls, as he slips his middle finger inside you while simultaneously crashing his lips against yours in a messy and tongue tangling kiss. His tongue prods at yours in the same way his thick digit explores your cunt, his ring finger sliding in beside the first and scissoring you open, causing you to moan into his mouth. 

As if trying to prove him right, you grind your hips against his hand desperately, the heel pressing deliciously against your clit with each tiny movement, allowing a jolt of pleasure to course through you. 

“More,” you pant, your fingers digging into his shoulders, “Please,” you beg between heavy breaths.

He tilts his head curiously, smirking at you. 

“Kitten sure is needy isn’t she?” he teases, but obliges your request, slipping a third finger into you, pulling a sinful sound from your lips. One you didn’t even know you were capable of uttering.

His plump lips find your pulse point and he plants an open mouth kiss there, happy to leave a trail of wet kisses along your neck and jawline. Each time your hips undulate against him, you're reminded of the sizable cock that is hiding in his sweats. Without giving yourself a minute to second guess it, you slip your hand into his gray sweatpants finding that he is wearing no underwear at all. 

“Who’s the slut now?” you smirk at him as your dainty hand wraps around his cock. 

You were right, big doesn’t even begin to describe Lee Know’s dick. He feels hot and heavy in your hand as you squeeze him, running your hand up and down his shaft languidly so that you feel every ridge and vein. His head falls back against the wall at your ministrations and it’s your turn to kiss along his neck, moving up behind his ear and sucking a small mark there. 

“Mine,” you groan in his ear, squeezing his cock with a slow stroke, running your thumb over his warm tip, precum already seeping from him. 

You stroke him again, causing his breath to hitch in his throat momentarily. “Take your pants… “Fuck. Off. Take em off, now,” he tries to demand but it comes out sounding more like begging. His fingers slip out of you and he pushes you away a little. 

You take the hint, release his cock, and stand, quickly shedding your shorts and underwear. He lifts his hips and you yank his sweats down past his knees. He kicks them off in a rush as you lay eyes on his cock for the first time and man is it pretty, standing tall and proud, the tip an angry red and leaking steadily. The red reminds you of the shade his ears turn when he gets particularly embarrassed in front of the members. He pulls his legs up onto the bench, leaning back on his hands and holds your gaze without hesitation. 

“Fuck,” you moan, sounding absolutely fucked out and he hasn’t even gotten inside you yet. “I’m gonna suck that pretty thing dry next time, but right now,” you say, moving to straddle him, “I need it filling me up,” you moan, aligning the tip with your entrance and sliding down on him slowly, not giving him the opportunity to argue one way or the other. 

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you breathe, eyes squeezing shut, as you inch down onto him. It’s slow moving at first as you take slow, deep breaths, allowing your walls to clench and unclench, letting him in bit by bit until you realize you're pressed against his balls, his cock fully sheathed inside you. 

“That’s the idea, sweetheart,” he speaks for the first time in a minute. 

You open your eyes to see a shit eating grin on his face. “Take it for a ride,” he teases, moving his hips up into you, the tip of his cock pressing that soft spot inside you, causing your legs to quiver slightly. “And next time, if you’re sucking me, I’m definitely getting a taste of this pretty pussy,” he says, looking down between you where your bodies connect. 

You can’t help but look down too, a small gasp slipping between your lips as your eyes land on the place where you are now intimately connected with Lee Know. 

You lift yourself up slowly, his cock slick with your arousal as it reveals itself, only to lower yourself down quickly, punching the breath out of you both as you grind against him, your hands gripping his shoulders fiercely as you ride him just like he suggested. 

He wraps his arms around your waist and up your back, pressing your bodies close together as your movements quicken. Your clit meets his pelvic bone with each thrust forward, and you can feel Lee Know’s hot breath against your neck, your name falling from his lips like a desperate prayer as you fuck yourself on him. 

In a completely brainless moment, he reaches behind his neck and pulls his shirt over his shoulders, tossing it to the side. Desperate to have him pressed against you in earnest, you do the same, your need to feel close to him dominating any rational thought in your brain and forgetting that you are in a very public place where you could be discovered at any time. 

“You’re definitely more than a slut,” he utters the minute he sees you bare before him. There is a hint of teasing in his voice before he continues. “You’re fucking beautiful,” he moans, his lips kissing along your clavical and down between the valley of your breast. 

You lean back to allow him better access to you, your hands landing on the bench behind you as you continue to ride him relentlessly, that knot in you tightening quicker with each erratic movement. His arms are wrapped around your waist as he helps support you, his lips latching onto one of your nipples and biting down gently before sucking the nub between his plush lips. 

“Lee Know,” you breathe, your chest heaving as your hips start to slow, completely overwhelmed with pleasure. 

He pushes you back onto the cushioned bench, slipping out of you momentarily, causing your head to spin. Quickly, he is hovering over your body, his hand wrapped around his cock as he guides it back into you. Your body arches against him, and he presses your bodies together, his lips finding yours in a slow, sensual kiss. His tongue moves slowly against yours, in much the same way that his hips move into you. 

Each time he bottoms out, he presses himself against you, creating a delicious friction on your clit that leaves you chasing after that electric feeling that it creates. 

The knot that had been building before, quickly returns, your legs closing in around Lee Know’s hips in an effort to keep him as close and as deep as possible. Your hands are wrapped around his neck, holding on for dear life as his movements begin to get sloppy and more erratic. 

“Make me cum,” you moan. Beg. “Fuck, Please!” you cry with one particularly sharp thrust. 

He renews his efforts with your begging. 

“All you had to do was ask, jagiya,” he smirks down at you, leaning back and grabbing your hips, crashing them together once maybe twice before his fingers reach between you and press hard against your clit, rubbing circles around it. 

That’s all it takes for your walls to descend upon him, fluttering wildly against his hard length, a burst of white pleasure lighting up behind your eyes. Your body quivers as you border on overstimulation from the pleasure. Just as your release ebbs, Lee Know presses himself firmly against you with one heavy thrust, and releases into you, pulling a cry from your lips as your orgasm renews and your legs shake wildly. A weak laugh falls from you as you try to escape the overwhelming pleasure, pushing against Lee Knows chest, but he keeps you pinned beneath him as he empties into you. You find your gravity in each other, your lips meeting once more. 

“Fuck,” you say, exhausted as your arms fall on the bench above your head, your chest heaving dramatically with each breath. 

“Yes,” Lee Know smirks down at you. “Yes we did.” 

You shake your head at him and slap his chest playfully, and he catches your wrist in his hand pulling you close to him for a searing kiss. 

“Let’s get the hell out of here. I’ve got a lot more I’d like to do to you if you’re willing,” he offers, standing and bending over to grab his sweats from where they had been shucked and forgotten earlier. 

“Oh I’m willing,” you laugh as you sit up and grab for your discarded clothes, slipping everything back on. You’re hot and sticky, red and breathing heavy, but to an outsider that could all just be dance practice. “I’m definitely gonna want a shower,” you grimace as you feel his cum leaking out of you as you move to stand. 

He chuckles low as he side eyes you. 

“I can help with that too,” he smiles teasingly at you. 

You hold his gaze. “Maybe then you can show me what that pretty mouth can do.” 

“Bet,” he agrees, seriously. “My mouth will be the only one you ever want again, jagiya,” he adds as you head for the door of the practice room. 

You turn around and kiss him hard as his hands grab your hips and hold you close to him. 

“Too late for that,” you smile against his lips. “These lips are mine and mine alone,” you growl possessively, and he reaches down and gives your ass a firm squeeze. 

“All you had to do was ask, jagiya,” he smiles at you, slipping his hand into yours and pulling you out of the room, eager to get you home and have his way with you. 

[hydrngea]

before the party

request : omg I was looking through your blog and I saw you listen to Rauw Alejandro, who is one of my current obsessions! Can I request an imagine with Rafe where the reader is listening to Rauw while getting ready for a party and he just loves watching her sing along and dance to the songs without having any idea what they mean?

a/n : i’m so glad i got this request bc i’ve been so into rauw lately!!! hope you guys enjoy this kinda smutty fic 🫣 this is a repost bc for tumblr was being annoying w it!

notes / summary : rafe didn’t realize your spanish playlist had such horny lyrics. reader is spanish speaking, but i left race/ethnicity to interpretation! pls be 18+ when reading!!

——-

rafe remembers absolutely nothing from high school spanish.

well, with seniora baldwin as a teacher for four years in a row, there’s no way he remember more than two percent of what he learned.

kinda ironic that his girlfriend is fluent in the language.

there’s no reason for him to be annoyed that you speak spanish. your knowledge comes with a bunch of perks.- acting as a free translator during deals down in florida and mexico. makes navigating vacations much easier too.

there’s one thing though; he can’t understand for the life of him what you’re saying when you start speaking it. or in this case, when you’re singing it.

your voice echos from the bathroom into your shared bedroom while you sing along to your playlist which is mostly consisted of some latin party music. b

rafe walks into the restroom to grab some hair gel when he finds shaking your hips and dancing along as you draw on your eyeliner in the mirror.

he lets out a chuckle, panning his eyes over your figure. “what’s he saying about the party?”

your reflection tenses at his question, and a flush begins to pool over the face of your skin.

“he’s saying…things.” you drag your response while you clean up your eyeliner.

“sure.” rafe rolls his eyes before exiting into the bedroom, pulling out his phone from his pocket.

he sits down onto the bench in front of your bed and searches up “party” by rauw translation. he clicks the first link and starts reading the translated lyrics line by line.

he has to hold in the laugh that grows in his throat while he takes in the absolutely vile lyrics.

“i’ll smack that ass” he repeats outloud, and the music from the speaker immediately pauses as you push your head out the doorway with a confused look on you face.

“what?”

rafe almsot chokes at the next lyric, eye widening and brows lifting. he gets up and walks towards you while reading it out, “that booty is for me to use.”

you relax once it clicks in your mind that he’s reading off something, letting out an annoyed sigh before stepping back in front of the mirror.

you notice rafes hand approaching the backside of your skirt from the reflection of the mirror and you swat at it before he can touch it.

“uh uh! vamos a llegar tarde a la fiesta por tu culpa!”

rafe blinks at you in confusion. you turn around, facing him “it’s your fault we’ll be late to the party.” you reiterate so he can understand.

“i didn’t realize this rauw guy sung such horny songs, baby.”

you roll your eyes, unpausing the music on your phone and resuming with patting on your blush. “well, if you’d learned spanish by now you would’ve known.”

rafe gets closer behind you, putting a hand on your hip and forcing you to turn around and face face him. your back leans against the edge of the vanity and you set down your compact onto the counter.

“you’re going to ruin my clothes!” you squirm as his hands begin to run over your bare thighs, trailing up under your skirt.

he leans forward to bring his lips to your neck, pressing kisses down to your collarbone “i don’t care.”

“rafe,” you shudder when his lips reach the top of your breast, sucking hard enough to leave a mark.

he shushes you, his breath grazing over your skin while he starts pulling down your bottoms.

you lean your head back which allows him greater exposure to your skin, giving into his actions.

“we need to make this-“ a gasp cuts off your words, two fingers slipping up your entrance and hitting deep against your walls. you wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and use them to keep you steady while he plunges them in and out and a deteriorating pattern, slowly cracking down on the tension in your body.

“you like that, y/n/n?” he questions as he quickens his pace, thumb grazing over your nub. rafe’s lips catch yours in a hard embrace, and he swallows the moan that falls from your throat. you tighten your grip on his biceps and arch against his fingers, enjoying the sensation of his slender digits pumping into your core.

a familiar burning feeling forms in your abdomen, and your begin to writhe on-top of the counter, bucking your hips up to meet the him as he curls his fingers inside you.

you let out another moan into his collarbone and he smirks, pulling his fingers out right before you cross the edge. “baby, please-“ you cry but he retreats from you, walking away while lapping at the wetness left on his fingers with concerning nonchalance.

rafe shrugs, walking out of the bathroom into where he came from. “we’re gonna be late to the party,”

he abandons you on the vanity with your skirt pooled on the tile floor, your chest heaving and wetness dripping down you leg into your calves.

you can’t help but let out a small laugh.

of course rafe would do this—he loves teasing and making sure that you know who you belong to, even though he knows he has no competition.

——-

taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!) : @maybankslover @mrsstarkey1 @a-aexotic @penny4yourthoughts @poguesworld @tee-swizzle @sangytv

masterlist / recent fic

[zmediaoutlet]

"So how was it?" Dean says.

Sam squints at him. Crazy-bright day, light reflecting off every car, bouncing back from the license plate frame on the Buick in front of them. "How was what?"

He gets a significant look but then there's a honk and Dean waves irritably at the guy behind them, moves forward a half car-length like that means something. Sam said they should've just taken 87 instead of the state highway, but apparently that wouldn't have been as good a drive, so here they are, bumper to bumper. Some accident they can't see up ahead.

"Dean," Sam says, when they're essentially parked again. "How was what?"

Dean stretches back, knees spread wide around the steering wheel. "Uh, let's see," he says, and sucks his lower lip like he's really thinking. "The tonsil hockey? The tongue tango? The vertical v-grab—"

"You're the worst," Sam says, loudly, and Dean grins whitely out at the traffic. Relaxed. Probably more relaxed now that Sam feels blood rising in his cheeks, like he really did something. The dick. They roll forward another few feet and Sam braces his elbow on the open window, looking out at the growing green, the budding trees. Springtime in upstate New York, not the worst it could be.

"Sarah seemed like she'd be good at it," Dean says. Sam rolls his eyes, smacks vaguely to his left, catches leather jacket. Dean swats his hand away. "Hey, that ain't a dig. I admire a chick who'll really go for it. And, buddy, the way she was looking at you."

Sometimes it's like he thinks Sam's blind. Like, the only reason is that he doesn't notice. He sucks the inside of his cheek, squints out at the random field out past the highway. Cows, in the distance. "She was good at it," he says, finally. Soft where it counted, confident in the way that a lot of gorgeous girls are. Curving into his body but not limp or just opening her mouth for it and waiting for him to be done. Her tongue tasted like earl grey tea. He can taste it now, and rubs his fingers over his mouth.

Dean's been quiet, letting off the brake and rolling forward a carlength at a time. "You want to…" he starts, but what goes there? They weren't going to stay. They never were. Even an extra day didn't make sense, because what was going to happen—Sam taking the open invite, letting himself try, knowing that in the motel across town Dean was cooling his heels with motel porn and a takeout pizza, waiting for Sam to shoot his load so they'd be ready to pack up and leave the state? No, that wasn't going to happen. Not fair to Sarah, no matter if Sam explained the score, and it wasn't fair to Sam, and it wasn't fair, either, to…

More honking, somewhere behind them. They check the rearview at the same time, annoyed, and Dean mutters, "Like that helps?"

Sam turns on his side of the bench, putting his back to the window. Dean glances at him and then looks back out at the cars, frowning. "What do you think I'm missing?" Sam says. "With this stuff. Perfume? Long hair?"

"Perfume I can do, but I draw the line at wearing a wig for you," Dean says. Sam huffs and Dean glances over at him again, smiling. Kind of smiling anyway. "Not trying to—to be weird about it, or pick a fight or anything, Sammy. I just know you wanted…" He shakes his head, slouches back on the bench with two fingers hooked low on the steering wheel. "I don't want you to be—missing anything. I know, we got a job, and it's important. I'm not, like, trying to get you to move into a two-bedroom in New Paltz. I just don't want you to hate this any more than you do already."

Traffic judders to a halt again. Sam nods, looks out at the blinding chrome. His eyes smart. He sniffs, and drags his hand over his face, and then leans over the bench seat and gets his hand on Dean's jaw and turns his face and kisses him. Dean's lips startle open and Sam closes his eyes and licks in, pressing deep, Dean's hand gripping his jacket and Dean's breath filling his mouth. Coffee, salt. Sam tips so his forehead's against Dean's, their noses brushing. "Don't worry about what I'm missing," Sam says.

Dean's knuckles against his chest. He breathes in, shaky.

Honking. Dean takes a quick deep breath and pulls back, doesn't look at Sam. Traffic opening maybe, a little, ahead. They slide forward a car-length and then another. "Might make it to Allentown before dark after all," he says. His ear's pink. Sam sits back into the corner of the bench and smiles at the side of his head. "Shut up," Dean says, and Sam smiles out the window instead, the grown-grass verge starting to blur as they pick up speed. He wasn't going to say a thing.

[kiwwia-wiwwia]

We'll Be Alright - Matt Murdock x Pregnant!Reader

A/N: Takes place post- s3 so i can do whatever i want hehe. The oh-so-overdone pregnancy trope with lots of fluff and hurt/comfort. I didn't proofread this and honestly I kinda hate it but whatever. NO USE OF Y/N because i hate it.

Series warnings: Discussion of vomit, blood, medical procedures, pain, mentions of miscarriage, pretty much all the pregnancy stuff.

Word Count: 1.2k

Part 1

Matt sighed as he waited for the elevator, anxious to get home to you. You’d called him earlier and told him that Ellison had sent you home early from work, claiming you looked dead on your feet. You’d been overworking yourself recently at The Bulletin and Matt had noticed the toll it was taking on your physical wellbeing. You were exhausted and often felt nauseous, although he knew you were trying to hide it. The elevator finally arrived and he stepped in, hitting the button of his floor and listening impatiently to your heartbeat above him as the elevator ascended. He made his way down the hall and paused when he heard an unusual sound coming from his apartment. He tilted his head in concern when he heard a soft groan leave your mouth, quickly moving towards the door of your shared apartment.

The door was unlocked, despite him constantly getting on you about locking the door when you were home alone. He made a mental note to bring it up again later. He set down his keys and cane on the bench by the door and made his way towards where you were in the bathroom. “Sweetheart?” He called out, alerting him to your presence. He heard you swear under your breath before you shuffled around on the floor. He cocked a brow at that. Why were you on the floor? “I’m home, is everything alright?" He paused, listening as you whimpered quietly in response. "You don’t sound great,” he said softly against the bathroom door. Another discontented noise left your mouth as the door swung open, revealing your form slumped over the toilet bowl.

“Threw up,” you bluntly stated. Your hands gripped the toilet as you gagged, leaning forward. “Might do it again. Ellison made me go home because I almost puked on him, which would’ve been bad. But I gotta finish-” You gagged again and Matt could hear the way your stomach was churning angrily. “-Gotta finish the article,” you mumbled miserably. Matt hummed sadly, settling down next to you on the floor. 

“Love, don’t worry about that right now. You’re obviously not doing well, maybe you need a break from work, hmm?” He traced his fingers over your arm, earning a pleased sigh. The bliss was abruptly cut short as you violently retched and emptied the contents of your stomach. Matt winced at the sound, drawing your hair away from your face with one hand and rubbing your back with the other. The scent of your tears mixed with the sour smell of your bile, a horrid concoction in his nose. You sighed and flushed the toilet, the scent gradually receding as you shakily got up to wash your face. “I don’t know what’s going on,” you sniffled. “My back hurts and I’m nauseous and my boobs are sore, I can hardly stay awake, and-” you stopped, your entire body going rigid. Matt shot up next to you and cupped your face in his hands. “What? Sweetheart, what is it? What’s wrong?”

You let out a shaky exhale and silently pushed past him, entering the living room with panic evident in your gait. Matt confusedly followed you, concern flooding his body. You fumbled around the couch until you found your phone, quickly tapping through your health app. Your eyes widened and you sucked in a sharp breath. Matt was only becoming more and more alarmed at your silence and he tentatively reached out to put a hand on your shoulder. You glanced at him, his face asking you a silent question. “I’m late,” you whispered. “I’m two weeks late, Matt. Oh my god.” His eyes widened as he realized what you were saying. “Do you think you’re…?”

You shrugged helplessly. “It would make sense. Fuck, Matt. I don’t…” you took a shuddering breath, tears pricking your eyes. Matt wrapped his arms around you, anchoring you to reality. He could hear your heart hammering in your chest, your unspoken fears consuming you. “We’ll be okay, love,” he murmured into your hair. “We’ll figure it out. We’ll be alright.”

The two of you stood there for a long time, quiet sniffles escaping as you pressed yourself against him and he trailed his fingers comfortingly up and down your spine.

-*-*-

“Fuck.”

The two of you were seated on the couch, three pregnancy tests displayed in front of you on the coffee table. All three had that god-awful word that you’d feared since college, too many scares embedding this reaction in your mind.

Pregnant.

Matt exhaled loudly, his mind obviously racing. “Okay. This is okay. We… we didn’t expect this so soon.” Your head whipped in his direction and you snorted involuntarily. He tilted his head, one brow raised in confusion. “What?” You shook your head, an amused smile ghosting  your face. “So soon? Were you planning on having children with me, Mr. Murdock?” He flushed at your words and you laughed again, the tension in the room slowly dissipating. “I mean, you moved in with me, didn’t you? You couldn’t have done that without some kind of thought about the future.” You hummed in response, leaning against him. “I thought about it, yeah. Just…” you chuckled softly. “Like you said, not so soon.” The two of you sat there silently for a moment before you remembered something and gasped, smacking him on the knee.

“Matthew.”

“What? What did I do?”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “Do you know what day it is?” 

He stared at you, confusion etched across his features. “...Thursday?” His eyes widened in realization. “Oh my god. It’s Thai food Thursday.” You nodded sagely. “The time-honored tradition of Thai food Thursday mustn’t be forsaken on this day.” Matt snorted, causing you to break character and giggle. He groaned dramatically as he stood, reaching out a hand to haul you up with him. You sighed and looked down, placing a hand on your abdomen. “Let’s hope pad see-ew is something you like, little nugget. Because honestly, that’s the only food that doesn’t make me want to puke at the thought of it.” Matt’s hand joined yours, his thumb gently sweeping over your knuckles. 

He knelt in front of you, the expression on his face soft and reverent as he spoke. “I’ll make you a deal,” he whispered into your belly. You smiled softly. “If you let your mother eat her beloved Thai food without puking,” he continued, “I’ll tell you about how she tripped up the stairs after our first date when you’re old enough to laugh at her with me.” You gasped in mock offense as he smirked up at you, mischief coloring his features. “Matthew!” You scolded, earning a bark of laughter from him. “I did not trip. I just- you were-” you sputtered in exasperation, playfully smacking him on the head. “That’s cheating,” you mumbled. “You can’t bribe our unborn child with tales of my misfortune.”

He grinned as he stood, pressing a quick kiss into your hair. “Not even if it means you can have pad see-ew?” You shook your head with an amused huff. This is how things were supposed to be. You and Matt bantering, laughing and poking fun at each other. You’d be alright. After all, there was no one you’d rather be doing this with.

A/N: Thank you for reading! Again, definitely not my best work but I promise it'll get better with more installments. I plan on having this series show reader and Matt throughout the pregnancy, labor/delivery, and with the newborn. Of course, it wouldn't be exciting without some angst in there, so look forward to that :) like and reblog so I know I'm not just screaming into the void

[yeoosaangg]

៹ TOUCH MY BODY || KINKTOBER ─ DAY 9

➛ PAIRING:: SEO CHANGBIN × FEM!READER

➛ NOW PLAYING:: TOUCH MY BODY — MARIAH CAREY

⤷ ❝I JUST WANNA MAKE YOU FEEL LIKE YOU NEVER DID.❞

➛ GENRE:: ESTABLISHED RELATIONSHIP, NON-IDOL!AU, SMUT

➛ WARNINGS:: BODY WORSHIP, FINGERING, PRAISE, SEMI-PUBLIC SEX

── ⋆ ⋆ ── 𔘓 ── ⋆ ⋆ ──

Your boyfriend hums, inspecting your outfit.

Y/n: I think if I get this in black, it'd look more fitting.

He scoffs, pulling you in for a kiss.

Changbin: You're crazy for thinking such things, darling. You're beautiful in every color.

You giggle, running back into the dressing room.

Y/n: Thank you, Binnie.

He sits down on the soft chair, waiting for the next dress. He's going to buy everything for you, he just likes when you show off for him.

He hears you whine and perks up when you call his name.

Changbin: Yeah, baby?

Y/n: The zipper's hard to pull up on this dress. Can you help me?

He carefully opens the dressing room door and slips inside.

Changbin: Wow! You look gorgeous.

Y/n: I don't think so. The yellow makes my tummy more noticeable.

He rolls his eyes. It's getting ridiculous how much you're putting yourself down when you rival a goddess' beauty.

Changbin: Stop being so mean to yourself, baby. I love everything about you and more. Do I need to give you a reminder?

You suck in a breath when he starts to kiss the space between your neck and shoulder. His big arms wrap around your body, feeling you up wherever he can touch.

You lean into his chest, head resting against his broad shoulder.

Y/n: What if- Mm- What if we get caught?

Changbin: Don't worry about that, love. Right now, this is all about you and your beautiful body.

He removes the dress, letting it pool around your ankles. He sits on the bench and pulls you to sit on his lap.

Changbin: Never take your eyes off the mirror. I want you to see how gorgeous you can truly get.

He spreads your legs, rubbing your clit through your panties. You hum, his finger drawing circles as a wet patch forms from your arousal.

Changbin: Want to know what I see everytime I look at you? I see a woman that isn't afraid to speak her mind even if people hate her for it.

He pushes the thin fabric to the side, his finger sliding up and down your folds. You bite on your bottom lip, whimpering as quietly as you could.

He shoves a finger inside of you, pumping slowly.

Changbin: When other women tried their hardest to come in between us, you shut them down and staked your claim. You never once let them make you feel inferior.

He adds another finger, increasing his pace.

Changbin: I don't get why whenever you're with me, you repeat those awful things they tell you. Have I ever made you feel that way?

You shake your head. He's done nothing but love and cherish your existence.

Changbin: Then why, my love? Why do you keep saying such mean things about your body? You are the most gorgeous woman I've ever got the pleasure to meet.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head, hand covering your mouth as you clench around his fingers. He doesn't stop until your orgasm hits you hard.

Changbin: Look at yourself, baby. This is when I find you the most beautiful. When you let your guard down and let me take care of you, worship your existence.

He pulls his fingers out and licks your juices clean. You catch your breath, clenching on nothing at the sight.

He pulls his pants down just enough for his cock to spring out. He aligns himself and slides inside slowly, the stretch making you shiver with pleasure.

His hand is still covering your mouth, muffling your quiet moans. He guides your hips up and down, slowly fucking up into your pussy.

Changbin: The look on your face tells me you love it when I talk about your beauty. Need me to reassure you how much I love you? I'll gladly be here to do so.

You steady yourself, bouncing on his cock a little faster. He looks down in between you, loving the way his cock disappears into your swollen cunt.

All for him.

The sound of your ass hitting his pelvis can be heard, but you don't care. You love the way he makes you feel, the way he loves you.

He never fails to remind you of how beautiful you are.

Changbin: So perfect, baby. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise. The only thing that matters is you. My love for you is real and forever will be.

You watch him from the mirror. He's smiling at you fucking yourself on his thick cock. He isn't doing this for his pleasure, but yours.

Y/n: I love you, Seo Changbin.

His smile widens, grabbing your hips amd slamming into you.

Changbin: I love you more, angel.

You both cum at the same time, covering your mouth as your juices run down to his balls.

Changbin: So fucking stunning, baby.

You stay sitting on his cock, legs twitching from the intense orgasm you just had.

Y/n: So... Get the dress?

He laughs, kissing you on the cheek multiple times. He finds you so adorable, even if your face was flushed out from getting fucked by him.

Changbin: I'm buying you everything, love.

He helps you up, dick sliding out. You grab your purse and hand him tissues. He cleans you both up, helping you into your original clothes.

Y/n: Thanks for everything, Binne. I'm sorry for always needing to be reassured.

Changbin: Nothing to apologize for, darling. I love telling you how much I love you. Even if it means I gotta fuck some sense into you with my-

You kiss him to shut him up.

He smiles, pulling you close to him.

Y/n: Let's go home, babe.

Changbin: Good thinking. I hate when you have to hold back your pretty sounds.

Y/n: And who's fault is that? Always fucking me in public.

Changbin: Can't help it. You're perfectly mine and I love appreciating you.

You giggle, feeling giddy from his words.

You know, without a doubt, that this is the man you're going to marry one day.

═══

a/n: he's slowly climbing the ranks... i already bias danceracha, imagine adding changbin to the mix? i'll forever be delusional !!! thank you for reading ‹𝟹

[bbobpul]

being with you doesn't feel like drowning — lmk

PAIRING. bff!mark lee x bff!reader SUMMARY. reader tries to confess to mark in hopes that their feeling will disappear once they let it out of their chest. GENRE. angst, unrequited love, best friends to strangers, reunion W/C. 3.4k NOTE. i love boygenius so it's mandatory to listen to cool about it while reading FOR THE FEELS (0.0)!→ my other works

certain people from our youth leave an indelible mark on us, whether they are senior role models, acquaintances who brighten our days, or individuals who meant so much but eventually drifted apart. their presence, guidance, and impact shape our experiences and stay with us long after we part ways, reminding us of the significance of human connections and the lasting effects they have on our lives.

surely one of the saddest experiences but the best stories to tell.

mark lee is undoubtedly an incredibly lovable person. many people who know him would agree wholeheartedly. he embodies kindness and provides a comforting presence that draws people towards him. mark is like a ray of sunshine, approachable and warm.

in my personal experience, he has been a significant source of support during my college journey. his friendly demeanor attracts people, and many individuals wish to befriend him. some are too shy to approach him directly, so they often approach me as a way to connect with him, like a bridge to his vibrant social circle.

when i first entered high school, i had certain expectations of what mark lee might be like based on stereotypical characters from tv shows—cocky and popular. however, i quickly discovered that mark was different. despite any changes that high school brought, he remained the same kid i had grown up with.

i vividly remember the times when he would run to me for support when kids from our neighborhood were being mean to him. he trusted me enough to confide in me when his first crush rejected him, not knowing that i was also on the verge of tears myself. mark lee is someone who is so easy to love, and that's what makes him incredibly difficult to forget.

his genuine and vulnerable nature, his loyalty and trust in our friendship, have left a lasting impression on me. mark's authenticity and ability to connect on a deeper level are what set him apart. despite the ups and downs, he remains a constant presence in my life, a person i hold dear in my heart.

i consider myself incredibly fortunate to have been noticed by mark in a way that felt truly special, surpassing the attention he gave to others he met during high school. it was a privilege that should have brought me immense gratitude, yet i couldn't help but harbor a conflicting desire for something more. in my heart, i battled with feelings of self-doubt and yearning, torn between appreciating the unique connection we shared and longing for a deeper bond that seemed just out of reach.

sitting on the benches near the school gates with my friend donghyuck, i couldn't contain the overwhelming emotions within me any longer. "i really love him, hyuck. so much," i confessed, my voice filled with a mixture of vulnerability and excitement. it was a quiet moment between the two of us, as we had been dismissed early from school due to our lazy professor. as we waited for mark, who had some errands to run, i seized the opportunity to confide in donghyuck, trusting him with my deepest feelings and hoping for some guidance or understanding in return.

his response took me aback. "that sucks, man," he said, his words carrying a sense of sympathy. i stared at him in disbelief, hoping for some encouragement or guidance, but his straightforward suggestion caught me off guard. "just tell him," he continued, his voice laced with conviction. "it probably will disappear once you get your feelings off your chest."

"it won't. i know it won't work," i replied, my voice tinged with a sense of resignation. i recalled my previous attempts to convey my feelings to mark, even if it was in a lighthearted manner, and the lingering affection that persisted throughout the years. graduation was approaching, yet this feeling had taken root long before i even set foot in the halls of our school.

as the weight of my unrequited feelings continued to burden me, i added another layer of complexity to the situation. "i also can't tell him right now," i confessed, a hint of frustration evident in my voice. "he's apparently involved with this girl from stem."

"did he tell you that?" he asked, his voice filled with skepticism.

"no," i replied, realizing that i had simply heard it through the grapevine without any confirmation from mark himself.

"then it's not true," hyuck asserted, his words resonating with a sense of certainty. i looked at him, a glimmer of hope flickering within me.

"you are his best friend, y/n," he continued, his voice gentle yet matter-of-fact. "if he likes someone, you'll be the first one he'll talk to. sadly." his words struck a chord, emphasizing the closeness of my friendship with mark and the trust we shared.

hyuck's words resonated deeply within me, stirring a newfound determination. "try, y/n," he urged, his voice filled with encouragement.

and try, i would. i made up my mind to release the weight of my unspoken emotions, regardless of whether or not mark would reciprocate my feelings. it was no longer about seeking validation or hoping for a specific outcome. instead, it was about freeing myself from the burden of unexpressed affection, allowing my heart to find solace in the act of honesty. i realized that true liberation lay in the courage to let my emotions be known, even if it meant accepting the possibility of unrequited love.

as fate would have it, just as i resolved to confront my feelings and open myself up to vulnerability, the universe seemed to conspire in its own mischievous way. "y/n," a familiar voice called out, capturing my attention. there he was, mark lee, waving at me with an infectious smile adorning his face.

my heart skipped a beat as a mixture of excitement and nervousness coursed through me. it was as if the universe was testing my newfound resolve, presenting me with an opportunity to seize the moment. with a deep breath, i mustered the courage to meet his gaze, ready to embark on a journey that would reveal the truth of my emotions and pave the way for whatever lay ahead.

"hey, man," mark greeted donghyuck with a warm smile before his attention shifted towards me. his eyes locked with mine, and he uttered those words that sent a surge of anticipation through me, "let's go home?"

his invitation caught me off guard, my heart fluttering at the thought of spending more time with him. it's not like this is the first time we are walking home together. without hesitation, i nodded, my own smile mirroring his. "sure, let's go," i replied, unable to conceal the excitement bubbling within me.

as we bid farewell to donghyuck at the school gates, mark and i ventured further into the outside world. the sun gently kissed our faces as we strolled side by side, our footsteps creating a harmonious rhythm. in that moment, mark's words washed over me, his voice filled with a warmth and sincerity that melted my heart.

"let's just walk, hmm?" he suggested, his eyes twinkling with a hint of playfulness. "i didn't see you much today, so i want to spend more time with you." it was a simple request, but it held profound meaning for me. this was the side of mark that had always made me swoon—the one who sought my company, who cherished our moments together. the tenderness in his words enveloped me, igniting a sense of belonging and significance.

as we walked side by side, heading towards home, i couldn't help but wonder if this would be the moment to gather my courage and express what had been weighing on my heart. it was a chance to lay bare my feelings and discover where our paths might converge. with each step, the anticipation grew, filling the air with a mix of hope, apprehension, and the promise of a newfound chapter in our intertwined lives.

as if synchronized by an invisible thread connecting our hearts, the words escaped our lips simultaneously, "i want to tell you something." a moment of lighthearted surprise passed between us before a shared smile graced our faces.

with a gentle nod, i urged mark to speak first, my curiosity piqued and a warmth of anticipation spreading within me. i wanted to hear what he had to say, to immerse myself in his world of thoughts and emotions.

"hmm, i'm sure you already heard about the rumors," my heart sank as mark began to speak, his words hit me like a wave of disconnection, momentarily distancing us. despite my own hopes, i forced myself to listen, desperately clinging to the possibility that he would deny it.

"and before you scold me, i'm sorry, okay?" he interjected, a touch of remorse coloring his words. "i'm sorry for not telling you first. it's just that you've been so busy with your debate stuff. but yes, the rumors are true." his words were filled with a sense of happiness, but inside, i felt a pang of sadness. i wanted to push my own feelings aside, to let him speak and find solace in his words, even if it meant disregarding my own desires and wishes.

in the brief silence that followed mark's confession, my mind raced to process the reality of his words. one, two, three seconds passed as i grappled with a mix of emotions. however, before i could fully retreat into my thoughts, mark's voice broke through the haze, calling my name and snapping me back to reality.

"that's cool, mark," i managed to say, mustering a tone of enthusiasm, despite the conflicting emotions swirling within me. his smile widened, and for a fleeting moment, i allowed myself to believe that i had successfully masked my true feelings. in that instant, his happiness became my focus, setting aside my own desires to ensure his joy remained undisturbed.

"what was it that you wanted to say?" mark inquired, his curiosity urging me to share my thoughts.

"ah," i stammered, desperately searching for words to divert the conversation. "you know, i just wanted to mention that my debate commitments have been overwhelming lately, and i feel like i need some rest." i fabricated an explanation, my mind struggling to conjure up plausible details. but as the words left my lips, my thoughts turned into a blank canvas, drained of any creative energy. mark continued speaking, presumably attempting to uplift my spirits, but his words became distant and muffled as my focus waned.

lost in my own internal turmoil, i unknowingly made my way inside my house, the outside world fading into the background. the weight of my unspoken truth settled heavily upon my shoulders, leaving me to contemplate the consequences of my silence and the disconnection i felt in that moment.

the vibration of my phone jolted me back to reality. retrieving it from my pocket, i discovered a message from mark. the words on the screen were like a lifeline, a gentle reminder of his unwavering support.

from mark

you will do great, i just know. there's nothing you can't do, y/n.

lying on my bed, i attempted to convince myself that everything was okay, that i could handle this situation with composure. it was just a simple crush, i reassured myself, something that could be dismissed and forgotten. i resolved to force myself to let go, to erase the thoughts of him from my mind.

deep down, i yearned for him to kindly leave my thoughts, to release his hold on my heart. with these conflicting emotions swirling within me, i drifted off to sleep that night, whispering to myself that one day, perhaps, i would forget about it, though uncertain if that day would ever truly arrive.

as ten years elapsed, bringing us to the present, the time had come for our high school reunion, an event i had initially considered skipping. donghyuck, however, was relentless in his insistence that i attend. inwardly, i grappled with my own reservations, questioning the root of my hesitation. after all, they were just old friends, right? well, except for mark. but it had been a decade since we last saw each other, and i reminded myself that everything had changed. including my feelings.

with a deep breath, i resolved to face the reunion head-on. it was an opportunity to reconnect with familiar faces and witness the transformations that time had wrought upon us all. i steeled myself, ready to navigate the evening with a newfound sense of confidence, curious to see how the passage of years had molded us into the individuals we had become. and in the back of my mind, a flicker of anticipation remained, wondering what the encounter with mark, the person who once held my heart, would bring.

as i arrived at the reunion, i was greeted by the familiar voice of donghyuck. a smile crossed my lips as i took in his playful remark. "y/n!" he exclaimed, his playful tone resonating in the air. "wow, you smell successful." it was a lighthearted comment, one that instantly brought back a flood of memories and reminded me of the bond we shared. i couldn't deny that i missed him, our friendship, and the easy banter we once had.

donghyuck then reminded me of the gathering, informing me that everyone was already seated and eagerly awaiting our arrival. it was a gentle nudge to set aside any remaining hesitations and fully embrace the moment. with a renewed sense of excitement, i followed donghyuck, ready to reunite with old friends and embark on a journey of reminiscence and rediscovery.

amidst the flurry of greetings from both familiar and unfamiliar faces, a part of me remained focused on one person. as i exchanged pleasantries and engaged in small talk, my heart quietly longed for the presence of that one individual. amongst the laughter and conversations that filled the room, i found myself eagerly awaiting the moment when our paths would cross once again.

time seemed to stretch as i scanned the room, searching for that familiar face that held so much significance in my life. each passing moment heightened the anticipation, the longing growing stronger with every passing second. it was as if the reunion revolved around the hope of reconnecting with this particular person, and i couldn't deny the depth of emotion that coursed through me.

in the midst of the gathering, surrounded by old memories and new conversations, i patiently held onto the belief that this encounter held the potential to reignite a flame that had flickered in my heart for years.

"hey, y/n." the sound of my name, uttered in a familiar voice, sent a shiver down my spine. i turned around, my heart racing, and there he was—the man i had loved for years and spent a decade trying to forget. as my gaze met his, i couldn't help but notice the changes that time had wrought upon him. he exuded a sense of maturity, yet his smile remained as captivating as ever, instantly evoking memories of our shared youth.

in that moment, a flood of emotions washed over me, overwhelming yet undeniably familiar. it was as if time stood still, and the weight of our past connection resurfaced with an undeniable intensity. the years apart seemed to fade away as we stood face to face, and i found myself drawn back to a time when his presence had filled my world with warmth and excitement.

as we locked eyes, an unspoken language passed between us, encapsulating a history of shared experiences and unspoken feelings. the passage of time had only deepened the significance of our connection, and in that instant, i couldn't help but wonder if the lingering embers of our past love had the potential to reignite into something more.

"it's nice to see you again," he said, his words carrying a hint of longing, as if he had missed me deeply. the sincerity in his voice echoed through my being, reigniting the familiarity of our connection.

"wanna catch up outside?" he asked, his eyes flickering towards the serene seaside just beyond the venue, as if beckoning us to a place where we could find solace in each other's company.

a surge of anticipation swept over me, my heart yearning for a chance to reconnect and unravel the mysteries of the past decade. "mark, it's so nice to see you here," i replied, a genuine smile playing on my lips. "sure, let's go."

with each step we took towards the peaceful seaside, it felt as if we were embarking on a journey to rediscover the unspoken words and unfulfilled promises of our youth. the possibilities lay open before us, as the waves whispered tales of past memories and the sea breeze carried the promise of a shared future.

"you suddenly disappeared after we graduated, why is that?" he asked

"i'm sorry, mark. something personal came up that we had to move." i answered and then silence engulfed us.

"how have you been?" i asked, my voice filled with genuine curiosity and a touch of apprehension. his response held the power to shape the course of our conversation, and i braced myself for the unexpected.

a faint smile graced his lips, revealing a glimmer of excitement and anticipation. it was a smile reminiscent of a child eager to share a significant achievement with their parents—a smile that hinted at something significant he wanted to convey. i couldn't help but notice the contrast between his current demeanor and the person i was ten years ago. back then, i would have approached this moment with unguarded optimism, but the passage of time had taught me to temper my expectations, shielding myself from potential hurt.

deep down, i acknowledged that there was a part of me prepared for disappointment, a defense mechanism against the potential pain that might follow. however, despite the self-imposed caution, i couldn't deny the flicker of hope that ignited within me, yearning for a connection that transcended the confines of time.

"i'm getting married in december," he said, his words cutting through the air with a bittersweet tone. his smile remained, but it was now tinged with a mixture of joy and sadness. "i'm so glad to see you today, y/n. you could be a part of my big day."

those words hit me like a wave, crashing against the fragile walls i had built to protect myself. the shards of my shattered heart from ten years ago seemed to reassemble, piercing me once more. the pain i thought i had long left behind resurfaced with an intensity i never anticipated.

the conflicting emotions within me waged a silent battle. on one hand, i wanted to be genuinely happy for him, to embrace the joy of his upcoming union. but on the other, a deep ache echoed within my soul, a longing for a different outcome, for a future where our paths intertwined.

as i absorbed the weight of his announcement, i mustered a smile, my voice trembling slightly. "congratulations, mark. i'm truly honored that you would consider me to be a part of your special day." behind my polite words, i hid the remnants of a broken heart, the realization that the pain of unrequited love had found its way back to me once again.

"and it's really nice to see how good you're doing. how far you've come. i am so proud of you, mark."

a heavy sigh escaped my lips as i grappled with the weight of my emotions. in that moment, i yearned to be selfish, to put my own desires and feelings first. but deep down, i knew the truth—i never had any rights to claim. i had been living in the shadows of unrequited love, forever playing the role of the understanding friend, while my heart silently yearned for something more.

method acting had become my expertise, allowing me to wear a mask of indifference, concealing the turmoil that raged within me. i mastered the art of pretending, adept at hiding the fact that being in his presence felt like a constant struggle to keep my head above water. i told him it was nice to see how well he was doing, but beneath the surface, the truth lingered, like an unspoken ache.

in the depths of my soul, i acknowledged the bitterness that threatened to consume me. it was a bitter truth that whispered in the recesses of my mind—i still loved him, and witnessing his happiness with someone else was a constant reminder of what i could never have. but i couldn't allow those feelings to tarnish the moments we shared, so i continued to play the role of the supportive friend, my true emotions concealed beneath the facade.

[ken-dom]

Make You Worse

Henry Letham x afab!reader

2.1k words

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Summary: Henry doesn't want someone to fix him.

Author’s notes: I've been promising Henry smut for a while, so to everyone who asked for it, here it is and I hope it suits! This was hugely inspired by a conversation with @silverlynx87, supported by @heresthestorymorningglory and @webbo0 who read my first draft, and then beta read by my husband. Thank you to everyone on Goosecord who has been excited for this, I hope it is worth the wait!

Warnings/content: NSFW, blood, biting, bruisng, intentional cigarette burn, cum play, oral (Henry giving), kind of rough sex

‘You don’t wanna do that.’

Henry didn’t look at you when he gave you his warning, glancing around as though he didn’t want anyone else to notice you’d tried to touch him with tenderness.

‘Yes, I do.’ You kept your hand over his, your knee pressed to his thigh, and your voice even as you turned to him. 

His jaw twitched at the warmth of your gaze on him, and he dared to steal a quick glance.

‘No,’ he repeated firmly, ‘you don’t.’

He shifted away so abruptly then, your hand dropped into the space that suddenly appeared between you.

‘Why not?’ you pressed, sliding a few inches along the bench to give him space.

Henry took his time before answering you, nodding his head as though he were thinking through a long list of possible responses. In the end, he looked you dead in the eye and settled on a counter question. ‘You’re not afraid of me?’

‘No. Why would I be?’ You furrowed your brow with a bewildered smile, excitement bubbling beneath it. ‘Is there something I should be afraid of?’

Long strands of greasy hair fell over Henry’s eyes as he hung his head and huffed out a heavy breath. ‘Maybe. You don’t know me like I know me.’

‘I’d like to.’

‘Well, then you really would be afraid.’ Bouncing his leg nervously, Henry looked up, glancing around skittishly.

‘No one else needs to know, if that’s what bothers you. I won’t judge you, Henry.’

‘You won’t judge me?’ he spat.

‘No. I won’t judge you.’

Another incredulous huff. ‘You can’t fix me, you know.’

You smiled. ‘I don’t have any intention of fixing you.’

Henry smirked. This was new, and he couldn’t deny it was getting kind of interesting. Exciting, even.

‘Then what exactly do you want to do?’

‘I want to make you worse,’ you shrugged casually.

The air shifted between you immediately then, and Henry groaned, ‘Kiss me.’

Your eyes widened as though you might have imagined the neediness lacing his weak command, and while you hesitated, he impatiently repeated it; ‘Fuckin’ kiss me!’

You pushed forward, lips crashing onto his, and his long fingers immediately pushed into your hair, possessive and intense. He tasted like cigarettes and not much else; you wondered when he’d eaten a proper meal last, but the thought was fleeting, melting away when his tongue pushed entirely between your lips and forced itself against yours. As you were getting into his rhythm, he shifted his head and bit down hard on your lip, drawing blood, then lapping at it so softly the change of pace was jarring.

He pulled away then, leaving your head spinning and his own chest heaving.

His leg began to bounce again, and you bit your lip, sucking at the blood he’d drawn, patiently waiting to hear whatever he was thinking. You did that more than he knew, hung on his every word, fascinated with the way his mind worked.

‘You wanna… come back to mine?’ 

He didn’t look at you as he asked, and his voice cracked the way it might if he were about to cry, but no tears fell.

‘Yeah,’ you agreed simply, and he shook his head again in disbelief, wiping your blood from his lips and examining it on the back of his hand.

‘You want the real me?’

‘Yeah.’

****

The moment his door clicked shut he was on you, hands grabbing at your clothes and teeth sinking into the crook of your neck, almost sharp enough to draw blood there, too. 

The cigarette between his fingers smouldered, threatening to set your sweater alight, but somewhere between sucking at your throat and hastily lifting your clothes over your head, he remembered it and offered it to you. 

‘I don’t smoke,’ you panted, pulling him back to you.

It wasn’t what he was offering though. He knew you didn’t smoke. He’d paid enough attention to you to know that small fact, but he shouldn’t have assumed you knew what he actually wanted you to do with the remainder of his cigarette. Why would you? He’d have to try it another way.

‘Touch me,’ he breathed, and you slipped a hand between your bodies, palm sliding eagerly over the bulge in his trousers.

Jaw dropping, he buried his face against your shoulder, humming against your clothes at the delicious friction of you rubbing him through the fabric. He lifted an arm, pulling up the sleeve with his free hand and passing himself what remained of the cigarette.

The hiss he let out as he pressed the burning end into his pale forearm was pure relief, and it made your core clench. Henry bucked his hips into your touch as the searing pain reached its peak, feeling his cock leak and twitch against your palm.

He wondered what it would take for him to cum now he’d already used up one of his favourite tricks. Perhaps just the knowledge that you’d witnessed it and stayed would be enough.

You were still massaging his cock, and although weak at the knees, he stopped grinding against your touch and lifted his head. His eyes were cloudy and half closed as he slurred, ‘Y-you still want me?’ His breath was hot against your throat and his voice hazy with the thrill he’d just chased. ‘Now you know I’m a freak?’

‘More than ever.’

Henry’s blood boiled.

He spun you around, throwing you down onto the bed behind him and crawling over you as though he were possessed, tearing your clothes away and sliding down your shivering body to dip his head between your thighs and get a taste of you, lapping at your clit and thrusting a long finger inside so eagerly it made you jolt.

He moaned when he registers just how wet you were for him. Soaked, even when you knew he wanted to be hurt, that he might want to hurt you. Knowing that you didn’t need him to hold back on his darkest thoughts to get you aroused. Quite the opposite, and in turn that made his cock ache with desire.

His moans vibrated through your core, and your hands flew down to fist desperately in his hair. He seemed to like that, too, groaning against you with every tug of those soft strands. So you tugged harder, and he moaned louder, and the heat pooling at your core grew hotter. It was building so quickly, the heat in your gut and the sparks between your thighs, that you thought you wouldn’t last another minute like this.

But you felt cold in the sudden absence of his mouth when he moved up to face you, his handsome chin shiny with your slick. You let out a whine of protest, but his finger was still pumping fast inside you, curling against the spot you needed it most over and over until it was almost unbearable.

‘Wanna fuck you now,’ he mumbled in your ear, delighted with the way you were writhing under his touch and the lewd, wet sound his finger was making inside you.

‘Please-’ you begged, and before you’d even finished that one simple word, his lithe hips were between your legs, freeing his cock burying inside you.

He didn’t bother undressing properly, kicking his legs free of his trousers and underwear, with one sock still on and the other dropping from his foot.

Your back arched as he stretched you on his cock, hips snapping hard and relentless, hip bones driving sharp into your thighs. 

‘That was so hot,’ you managed, breathless, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer.

It had been obvious you’d liked it, you wouldn’t be soaked like this if you hadn’t, wouldn’t be digging your heels into his back to spur him on, but Henry still let out a guttural little moan to hear you confirm it.

Perhaps next time you’d let him burn you while he has his hand down your trousers, maybe he could bring you to orgasm at the exact moment you scream out from the pain. He wondered if you’d like that. The way he liked it.

‘Take it off?’ you begged, pulling at his jacket and bringing him back to the present. ‘Wanna see you-’

He nodded hurriedly, too overcome with the idea of hurting you to form words, hips stuttering as he shrugged off his jacket and pulled his sweater over his head, ruffling his hair a little more.

The moment your hands were against his skin, you clawed your nails in, harsh and sharp, leaving crescents around his shoulder blades and scraping all the way down to his waist, relishing in the contours of every rib you dragged over along the way.

As you stung a deep trail of fresh red lines into his pale flesh, Henry gasped as though what you were actually giving him was a soothing massage.

He squeezed his eyes shut, and you knew he was close, that he was trying to figure out what would tip him over the edge.

‘What do you need?’ you asked in a whisper, and instead of answering, he slid himself out, kneeling back on his heels between your trembling thighs. 

You whimpered weakly, your core throbbing and hot and so painfully close to release, only to be left cold and empty and untouched as Henry’s eyes raked over you as though he were admiring a work of art — his own, one he was proud of. 

He leant down to drag his fingers roughly through your folds, dipping inside far too briefly to collect your slick, chuckling as you shuddered, and then wrapped his coated fingers around his leaking cock, pumping frantically as he watched you, breathless and flushed and desperate beneath him.

Your gaze wandered to the marks on his body; there were plenty of other cigarette burns that you couldn’t help wondering about. Were they from previous encounters? Had he scared them off the way he thought he would scare you off?

You landed on the fresh wound he’d inflicted in the centre of his left forearm, the small, slightly swollen circle still glowing red, that would eventually fade into a scar like all the others. But first, you could make the memory last.

You pulled his arm closer, and he collapsed over you, watching carefully to see what you would do to help bring him off. You pressed your lips gently to it first, and Henry hissed, feeling a swell of arousal.

A drawn out, strangled moan ripped from his throat when your eyes met his and your tongue slipped out between your lips to circle slowly around the burn, sparks of pleasure-pain sending heat rushing to his core, spilling his release over your chest and stomach in thick spurts.

‘Fuck… fuck-’ he panted, sliding down to lick up his mess in sloppy, needy laps.

He was moaning into it, tongue painting patterns against your skin with his seed, and then his head was between your thighs again, mixing your slick with his own, focussing entirely on your pleasure.

‘Fuck!’ you cried, squirming under his intense ministrations, his hands pressed to your hips in a bruising grip to hold you down. You hoped it would bruise; another work of art that would linger on your body, something you hoped he’d come back to admire, and to recreate.

Henry was good with his tongue. He’d been a needy kisser, which, as it turned out, made for exceptional skills between your thighs. Only a few precise flicks of his tongue he had your back arching off the bed, fingers tugging at his hair again as wave after wave of pleasure flooded your body and his name slipped from your lips like a prayer.

Henry dragged another orgasm out of you before he resurfaced, satisfied and slightly dazed. He laid beside you, smirking to himself as he found and lit a cigarette.

‘You know,’ he mumbled, as he exhaled a long stream of smoke, ‘someone once said to me it’s worth sticking around because there’s just too much goddamn beauty. And I think I understand what that means now.’

You knew he didn’t mean you specifically. You could sense he was attracted to you, but what you’d just shared hadn’t simply been about attraction. It had been about him using your bodies as a canvas, painting you with your blood, his seed, his bites and bruises, marking him with your nails and the cigarette he’d burned into his arm while you pleasured him. 

The beauty was in the act, and the way he was able to share it with you. It was in the way he had felt able to open up and it hadn’t scared you away.

You were still here, after all.