#did he just eat blood. he just like me fr.

[wispcherry]

we don't have time to mourn him or lament the end of the world. grab that limp white boy like a wet noodle and get out of here.

[gojorgeous]

"creature of myth."

pairing: vampire!gojo x fem!human!reader summary: when you receive an offer of marriage from a mysterious wealthy lord, it’s too good a deal for your family to turn down. but nothing could be so perfect... right? content: MDNI (18+  ONLY), dark content, nsfw, gets dubcon/noncon in some spots, yandere behavior from gojo, implied death/k*lling of a character (not reader or gojo), arranged marriage, victorian au, plot that ends with porn lmao, spooky dooky vibes, blood, blood sucking/eating, praise, biting, unprotected sex, creampie, virgin!reader, discussion of virginity, cherry popping, pain, pet names (princess/love), reader is highkey clueless about sex, discussion of masturbation, ideas of masturbation as “sinful”, very minor religious themes, fated “mates”, gojo is highkey insane, coercion and manipulation, like SO much neck kissing, ooc gojo??? (had to alter his character to match a victorian vampire lord LMAO). a/n: PLEASE READ THE CONTENT WARNINGS. THERE IS DARK CONTENT AHEAD. is this a gojo fic or a twilight fic?? Going back to my roots fr fr. straight down to the “SAY IT, SAY IT”. this fic is also way too long my apologies bbs. i hope you like a hefty side of plot with your porn. parts of this fic feel way too cheesy to me but sometimes i eat that up, yk?? this fic was inspired by this amazing work by @rice5x ! and, finally, thank you all for the support on my most recent fics. i'm just getting back into being active on this blog and it's been amazing reading each and every comment/reblog/ask. they genuinely fill me with so much joy. keep them coming hehe. anyway, i hope you enjoy and remember, ALL AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED. credits: dividers by @cafekitsune. banner art by @ndsoda on twitter. wc: 11.6k (sowwy)

You remember perfectly the way your mother’s jaw dropped when Satoru Gojo proposed to you. You’d never seen the man, and you still hadn’t. He’d asked to marry you via messenger, a simple letter delivered by hand with a list of all the things he’d be willing to pay for your hand. Offers of money, land, protection, connection- anything so long as he got you. You’d thought it was a joke. Your father nearly took a shovel to the head of the poor messenger, thinking the letter was some kind of cruel prank, some sort of targeted disrespect. You’d only started to believe when you really looked- saw the Gojo crest embroidered on the man’s suit, the fine leather of his boots. If it was a prank, somebody had spent a great deal of money and effort to pull it off. 

You’d asked for proof nonetheless, and you’d gotten it. Documents signed and sealed with a well-known waxen crest, gifts that could only have been purchased by a wealthy lord. The one thing you never got was the lord himself. He refused to see you, to come down from his mysterious castle on the hill. It didn’t surprise you. He rarely deemed town worthy of his presence. He had a reputation as a recluse, as a man who only ever liked to see and never be seen. What little glimpses people got of him were usually through the dark window of his carriage. Still, his appearance preceded him. White hair, light eyes… “haunting” said those who had the luck to see him. Those who went to work for the lord tended to return… changed— if they returned at all. 

You accepted, of course. How could you not? You were a peasant family with no status or wealth to your name. The promises Lord Gojo had made would make your parents into aristocrats all on their own. But that left you wondering… why did he want you? You offered him no benefit. If anything, you sullied his bloodline. The question scratched at the back of your mind. It came to you while you ate breakfast, while you washed your clothes, while you weeded in the garden. Some part of you told you that you needed the answer before you ever stepped foot in that castle. You needed that answer, but you’d never get it. 

Your wedding wasn’t even a wedding- just a piece of paper that had already been signed and witnessed, once again delivered by a familiar messenger. You signed at your dining room table and… that was that. You were married. 

Later that night the carriages arrive. Men flood your home, all dressed in blue velvet, the Gojo crest embroidered on their chests. They seem puzzled when you tell them you’ve packed all your belongings into a measly three bags. 

You say a quick goodbye to your parents, drawing them into stiff embraces. You love them, and they love you, but you can’t bear to see their faces as they send you away to a man who couldn’t even show his face for your wedding. 

The carriage ride is somehow longer than you’d thought it would be- apparently, the castle’s size makes it seem deceptively close. The trip is rocky and twisty and altogether unpleasant as you steadily make your way toward the castle gates. By the time you reach them you think you’ve probably dozed in and out of consciousness at least half a dozen times. 

The castle is even more intimidating up close. Spires that swirl into the clouds, sculptures that stare, doors that look more suited to being locked than opened. It’s… terrifying. 

When you finally roll to a stop, you move for the door. When you swing it open you get your fair share of strange looks from your attendants and remember that you should have waited for the footman. Your face heats as you climb out anyway, unwilling to subject yourself to the further humiliation of waiting for assistance. 

Your feet hit gravel and all you can do is stare- up, up, up, to where the castle’s peaks disappear into the fog. When your eye flashes to a window on the east side of the manor you think you see a swaying curtain. You tuck your arms around yourself and shiver, but it’s not from the cold. 

You nearly stumble over your feet on your first step inside. The entrance hall is larger than your former house, with ceilings that stretch so high you can hardly make out the figures on the frescoes that adorn it. Silver and blue drape everywhere, the Gojo family colors. You swallow when you see a chair that is most definitely worth more than your family’s annual income. 

The floors are marble and when your worn heels clack against it, you only feel reminded that you don’t belong here. That question pricks in your mind again as you pass portraits of every Gojo heir to have lived in the last three hundred years. Why me? Why me? Why me? 

Your footman deposits you in your room, a place more lavish than you’ve ever seen. You have a four poster bed with a canopy of blue velvet, a window that overlooks a sprawling estate, and more square footage than you’ve ever dreamed of. 

“Pull this if you need any sort of assistance, ma’am.” 

You turn to see your footman referencing a silver cord at your bedside. You assume it’s one of those contraptions that rings a bell in the servants’ quarters. You try to hide your amazement- you’ve never seen one in real life before. 

You clear your throat and give your most ladylike nod. “Thank you, um-” you pause, your brow furrowing. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I asked your name.” 

Your footman appears stunned to silence, like he’d never expected you to care about his existence, much less his name. He recovers quickly, though, and forces a small smile. “Thomas, ma’am.”

You smile and it’s genuine. “Thank you, Thomas.”He bows and makes a beeline for the door, but you have one more question. “Oh, um, Thomas-” He freezes, turning slowly on his heel to face you. 

“Yes, my lady?” 

You cringe at the title. The sound of it creeps across your skin, foreign and… wrong. Why me? Why me? Why me?

You clear your throat again. “Do you know, um, well-” You shift, trying to word your question properly. “Do you know when I might see the Lord?” 

There is a pause, a moment of tension and silence, and then an answer. “No, my lady.”

Thomas does not stick around for more questioning. The door clicks shut behind him and then you're left with only the sound of retreating footsteps. 

You’re stunned to say the least, mouth still halfway open, more questions on the tip of your tongue. Should you seek him out? Was that proper? Would he come to you? Would he meet you for dinner, perhaps? Surely he would come to your room tonight to… consummate. Would that be the first time you lay eyes on him? When he’s over you? 

You sigh. There’s nothing much to be done about it now. You find your way to the bed and sit down hesitantly. It feels like a crime to rumple such primped and polished cotton. You do it anyway- it’s going to happen sometime, right? You fall back against the mattress and don’t fail to notice how utterly comfortable it is. The silvery patterns on your canopy swirl and bend together. You’re tired. You didn’t sleep much last night, anxious for the morning… and it’s only mid-afternoon now. You had time for a nap, right? Your eyes are closing before you can convince yourself it’s a bad idea and then you’re swept away into a world of warm darkness. 

You wake with a start. Your first thought is that it’s dark now. Your room is pitch black except for the stream of moonlight passing through your stupidly large window. Your mouth feels dry and your skin is cold, like you’ve just woken from a nightmare. If you have, you don’t remember it. Perhaps that’s a blessing. 

You sit up, combing a finger through your hair and laughing pitifully when you realize that you left your shoes on as you slept. You hope Thomas didn’t walk in to find you in yet another unladylike position. A glance at the foot of the bed reveals he might have. Your bags have arrived- all three of them. You eye them with a combination of longing and contempt. They don't match this place. They’re worn and used- everything here is shiny and new. Still, they’re all you have, and all you have left of your life before. All you have left of home. 

You stretch your arms above your head, nearly groaning at the burn in your muscles. The carriage ride did your body no favors and you suspect you’ll be sore for many days to come. 

You rise, no longer content to lie in bed. You’ve had your rest and, from the state of darkness outside, you suspect your new husband might be joining you soon. The thought twists a certain tightness into your gut, but you push it aside. If that was the price you paid for all he gave your family… then you’d pay it gladly. 

You start with candles, finding a box of matches at your bedside. You light every candelabra you can find. The room, the castle, seems so perpetually… black- like it soaks up every ray of light it touches. Even when you’ve finished it doesn’t feel like enough. You make a note to ask Thomas for more in the morning. 

You find a meal, carefully prepared and preserved, on a table near your dresser. Judging by the fact that it’s still warm, you conclude that it can’t be much past mid-evening. You originally intend to pick at the food as you unpack, but one bite has your mouth watering. It is the most delicious thing to ever touch your lips, complete with dessert waiting on the side. You clean your plate before moving onto your bags. 

You lay your clothes out on the bed. A few dresses, riding pants, undergarments, an assortment of ribbons and bows. At one time these items had been the finest things you owned- now you owned a castle. 

You find an armoire that looks like a master sculptor carved its edges and grab a dress, intending to hang it. Instead, your dress hits the floor when you part the doors to find the hangers already full. Your lips part. Luxury dresses of silk and satin line the rack, fading into some that appear more casual outfits of cotton and linen. You stretch a hand out, curious and utterly… amazed. To think your new husband had gone to all the effort… Your hand brushes purple silk and- 

“Do you like them?” 

You screech, jumping to face the voice at your back. It takes a moment for your eyes to find him, leaning casually against one post of your bed. Your breath is stolen for a second time. Snow white hair, piercingly blue eyes, pale soft skin… you know who he is even without looking at his dress, at the air of authority he claims. He’s your husband… and he is the most devastatingly beautiful thing you’ve ever seen. 

He laughs, then, and it’s a warmer sound than you’d thought it would be- rich and full. A sound that seeps into your bones and settles in your soul. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says, but the twinkle in his eyes makes you think that perhaps that’s a lie. 

Your heart pounds and your eyes flash to the door. It’s shut. You didn’t hear it open, nor did you hear it close behind him. You also didn’t hear footsteps, didn’t hear breaths, didn’t hear him. 

He follows your gaze and laughs again, though it sounds a bit… strained? 

“I have a habit of being unintentionally lightfooted. I apologize.” 

Your heart is still pounding but you find it in yourself to have some decorum. You snap your jaw shut and bow your head slightly in respect. “You must be Lord Gojo. Forgive me for my insolence.” 

There’s a beat, and then footsteps– ones you actually hear this time. You clench your jaw when he stops before you and then nearly gasp when he takes your hand and brings it to his lips. 

“Satoru, please,” he winks and you think you might stop breathing. “I am your husband after all.” 

You force yourself to nod, to swallow, to act normal. But how can you in the presence of a man that looks like… that? There’s something too unreal about him, too perfect. It’s almost… unsettling. 

“Of course… Satoru.” 

He straightens and shows you a close-lipped smile that digs a dimple into his left cheek. You have to look away to avoid stumbling over your own feet. 

“So, do you like them?” Your brows furrow- “The dresses,” he clarifies. 

“O-oh.” Your features relax into an easy smile. You turn back to your armoire, running a hand along another gown. You don’t think you’ve ever touched something so… finely made. “I like them very much. I don’t know how to thank you.” 

There’s a little chuckle as you turn to face him again and you have to steel yourself before you meet his eyes. He’s mesmerizing, too mesmerizing. You think you could probably lose yourself in those eyes forever… 

“No need to thank me. If they don’t fit, we’ll call for the seamstress in the morning.” 

You nod softly, still lost to the situation. There’s a beat of silence in which your husband does nothing but… look at you. His eyes roam freely and the hair on your arms stands under his gaze. He traces the lines of your nose and jaw and lingers on your pulse. Can he see just how fast your heart is pounding?

“Did you… get dinner?” It’s a stupid question, you know, but you don’t think you can bear another second of that look he’s giving you. “I fell asleep and found a plate. I hope I didn’t prevent a proper meal…” You trail off. Perhaps you shouldn’t have pointed out your own shortcoming? 

He gives you another smile and you swear he inches just a little closer. “You did no such thing. I’m… perfectly satisfied.” 

You nod, glad that he doesn’t seem upset at the very least. Your lips press together, unsure of what to do or say. You’ve never had a husband before. Wasn’t he supposed to just sort of… put you on the bed and… do it?

Your eyes flit to said bed and your husband must see because he hurries to continue. 

“Well, I’ll see you in the morning then, hm?” His eyes flit to your armoire and back again. “Wear the blue dress with the lace to breakfast, yeah? Been dying to see it on you.” He chuckles like he’s just told some sort of amusing joke.

Your brows furrow. That was… not the topic you’d been expecting. “You’re not…” You feel your cheeks heat and tighten your jaw. “Not staying the night?” 

His lashes lower a fraction and those eyes pierce you again. You don’t think you could move even if you wanted to, even with him prowling closer, each step eating up the space between you. He doesn’t stop until you’re nose to nose and you can feel his breath fanning over your cheeks. It’s cold somehow, chilling, and you shiver. He smirks. 

“Not tonight.” 

His head dips and for a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, but then he’s bypassing your mouth altogether and- his lips connect to your pulse. His mouth is cool, just like his breath, and you shiver uncontrollably under his touch. 

His touch is just a fleeting moment, just a wrinkle in time, and then he’s gone. His footsteps are quiet brushes on the hardwood and the creak of the door even seems tamed in his presence. 

“Goodnight,” is all he says, and then he’s gone. 

You climb into your bed an hour later wondering what in the world just happened. 

~  

You do wear the blue dress to breakfast and you can only gape in the mirror when you realize that it fits perfectly. It has you second-guessing yourself. Had you sent your measurements in advance and forgotten about it? No, you’d only sent a handful of pieces of information to the Lord prior to your marriage and you remembered all of them very clearly. Everything had gone through a messenger, everything had been clear and direct– you would have remembered sending your measurements– you didn’t. So had he just… guessed? 

That seemed impossible with how everything fit you like a glove, but it was the only explanation you had. The only one that made sense. 

When you join Satoru for breakfast it’s in a sitting room as lavishly decorated as the rest of the castle, but perhaps organized to be a bit more… liveable. He has no plate in front of him, only a tin cup that hides the contents of whatever he’s drinking. You assume coffee or juice. Perhaps he’s just not a breakfast person. 

“It fits!” he says. His hands clasp together in front of him and he smiles again, dimples and all. 

You nod and fight the heat that bubbles beneath your cheeks as you take your seat. “Yes, perfectly.”

A plate is set before you and a glance up reveals it’s Thomas serving your breakfast. You smile, hoping for some acknowledgement from him, for a small piece of comfort. Instead, you get his averted gaze and quick retreat. Your brows furrow, but before you can say anything, Satoru is back to speaking. 

“I hope Thomas treated you well yesterday?” 

You glance up, but Satoru’s eyes aren’t on you, they’re on your footman. His smile is bright, but it’s anything but friendly. You fight a shiver. 

You glance at Thomas. He’s perfectly still, perfectly straight, but you think you see a muscle clench in his jaw. You clear your throat. “Y-Yes. Thomas was very helpful.” When Satoru keeps staring the boy down you add, “-and very respectful.” 

That seems to satisfy. Satoru breaks his stare and some of the tension in the air instantly eases. He shoots you another dimpled smile, this one with a little more warmth. “Perfect.” 

There’s a beat and then he’s standing, draining whatever he has in his cup and then straightening his jacket. “Well, I have some work to do. I’ll see you for dinner?” He’s grinning again, like it’s so normal for a man to abandon his bride on their wedding night and then again the morning after. All you can do is nod. He chuckles. “See you then, princess.” And then he’s gone.

~

If this is to be your life you don't know how you will survive it. You spend the day milling about. Through the gardens, through the castle, through the stables. Thomas is never far behind, but any attempt at conversation is nipped in the bud by hit shortness. It’s like he fears coming too close. He’s never closer than a couple paces except when he has to bring you something, only to retreat again as soon as possible. The other servants barely pay you any mind apart from giving you a respectful greeting and then immediately averting their eyes. There is no work to be done, no guests to be had, no parties to plan… and no Satoru. You don’t see your husband once on tour around the grounds. You ask Thomas where his office is only for him to vaguely point out a window in the east tower. You don’t see so much as a ripple in the curtains. 

Dinner comes around at the pace of a snail. When it’s finally time to get dressed a lady’s maid whose name you don’t even catch arrives to help you lace your dress. As soon as your corset is deemed tight enough she’s back out the door with a curtsy. Thomas leads you to the dining room and your eyes roam the whole way. Even after having spent the whole day exploring, there are halls and corridors that you’ve yet to step foot in. 

The dining room is just as gorgeous as the rest of the place– filled with singular items that could feed entire families for years. Somehow, you think you’ve already grown accustomed to such things, since the only thing you truly care to look at is your husband. Satoru’s already seated, but he stands when you enter, looping around the table to pull a chair out for you. 

You give him your most genuine smile, accepting a kiss to your knuckles in greeting before you settle. “How was your day?” you ask as he takes his seat again. 

He chuckles. “Perfectly fine. And how was yours, princess?” Your nose crinkles. That’s the second time he’s called you that. Something about it feels wrong. You’re still getting used to being a lady. Princess feels even worse. 

“It was… good.”

You watch a perfect white brow arch in the candlelight. “Oh? Just good?” You don’t miss the way his eyes flicker to the corner– to Thomas. 

You hurry to elaborate. “Well, I just– I can’t help but feel as if there’s not much… use for me.” Servants flood in, some carrying wine, others carrying trays that hold more food than the both of you could ever possibly consume. 

That brow arches impossibly higher. “Use?” His lips crack into that smile again, but it’s tight this time. Too tight. “You have no use. You only enjoy yourself. Surely Thomas has told you that.” 

A plate of steaming food plops in front of you. Even its heavenly smell can’t quell the sudden dread in your gut. “Of course! Of course he did.” Your stomach twists and you decide that perhaps now is not the time to press the subject. “I’ll just… I’ll try riding tomorrow.” You hate riding, but it’s the first thing that comes to mind. 

Satoru’s smile thaws into something less menacing. “I’m sure you’ll enjoy that.” 

You nod eagerly. “I’m sure I will.” 

You grab your fork, eager for a new subject. From what you can tell, dinner is roast chicken and vegetables, though it’s the luxury version as everything seems to be. The spices are intoxicating and the green beans are even arranged in a pretty little pattern that makes them look too good to eat. You do anyway. The first bite nearly makes you moan, but you chew slowly, delicately, trying not to let your upbringing show.

It’s not until several bites later that you realize you’re the only one eating. A quick glance reveals your husband has no platter, no chicken or green beans. He’s only… watching you. You clear your throat, dabbing at your lips with a napkin. 

“You’re not… eating?”

That permanent smile grows a little wider and you can’t help but feel as if there’s something… menacing about it. “Ate before I came.” 

Your brows furrow. “Oh. Were you on the road?” 

You think you see something wild flash in his eyes. “No.” 

The rest of dinner passes slowly, almost painfully. Satoru doesn’t eat a bite, doesn’t even look enticed. You wonder how that’s possible when it smells like a spice bomb went off in the dining room. 

By the time you’ve cleared your plate you’ve discussed everything from the number of horses in the stables to kinds of crops grown on the estate. It’s comforting to know a little more about your new home, but it’s not enough. 

“Is there a library?” you ask. You’re on dessert now. It’s the best chocolate cake you’ve ever had and it takes everything in you to hold back a moan each time it touches your tongue. 

“Of course.” Your husband’s eyes flicker to Thomas again and you’re honestly starting to fear for the poor footman’s life. Everytime you ask a question it’s like Satoru is angry it hasn’t already been answered. “It’s yours to use as you please.” 

You smile lightly. “Perfect. Thank you.” 

He softens a bit at that. “Is there anything specific you wanted to read about?” 

You shrug. “The estate, I suppose. I should know my home’s history, no?”

His eyes get that wild look again, that sparkle that you know speaks to nothing good. “Oh, absolutely. I have some personal favorites to recommend. I’ll leave them aside for you?” 

You swallow and give him a shallow nod. “That would be perfect. Thank you.” 

He chuckles. “My pleasure.” 

When dessert is finally over, you stand slowly. Satoru’s not far behind you, saying he’ll walk you to your room. Your heart leaps at his words. Will he stay with you tonight? 

He offers you his arm in the hall and your mouth runs dry when you feel the corded muscle beneath his jacket. By the time you reach your room, you’re thinking of tugging him in behind you. His denial to stay with you last night was not only confusing, but… off putting. Nearly offensive. Did he not like how you looked? Did he think something was wrong with you? 

You muster all the courage you possess and force your lips apart. “Will you stay with me tonight?” 

His eyes spark again and you hold your breath. He presses closer. This is it, you think. His lips hover over yours, eyes glimmering in the candlelight. And then he dips his head, his mouth pressing to your pulse. 

“Not tonight,” he whispers– and then he’s gone. 

~

You wake suddenly. It’s the middle of the night, you gather. The light streaming through the window is weak enough to only be that of the moon. 

Your heart is pounding and your skin is slick with sweat despite the chill in your bones. A nightmare, you think. It must have been a nightmare. 

As you settle back into your sheets you swear you see a ripple in the darkness. You close your eyes. If your nightmare is real, you’d rather not see it coming.

~

The library is huge. It’s sprawling and smells of paper and leather and everytime Thomas lights a candle you flinch at the idea that one misplaced spark could end thousands of years of knowledge. 

The books Satoru left you are… perfect. Just what you were looking for. They’re all comprehensive volumes of the history of the estate, many of which reference each other. You’re stunned to see that several are written by very well-known authors of both the past and the present. You knew the Gojo family’s influence reached far, but not that far. You peruse the titles. The Gojos: A History, A History of the Gojo Crest, History of the Gojo Castle, Revisiting the Gojo Family: A Comprehensive History. Altogether you have well over a few thousand pages of information– but there’s one book that doesn’t fit with the rest. It’s relatively unassuming. A black cover with some sort of gold rune etched onto its front. When you flip to the title page it reads “Creatures of Myth and Where To Find Them”. Your brows furrow. You slide it to the side– must have gotten mixed in with the others, you think.

~

You ask Thomas to bring the books to your room. He does. Very respectfully. He sets them on your bedside table and then retreats like a kicked puppy with only a polite goodbye. You sigh. His behavior has only gotten stranger in the past few days. You think the servants’ coldness must have something to do with Satoru, but you can’t figure out why. Had he ordered them to stay away? Why would he? 

You decide it’s a question for another day and dive into your books. You spend hours, days, reading every chapter, page, and word. The pure amount of information is dizzying. Apparently this specific estate had been in the hands of the Gojo family since the eighth century (with several razings and consequential rebuilds). You also learn that Satoru was not only the most wealthy lord on the continent, but the most wealthy man. Even wealthier than the king apparently, though that fact was kept fairly under wraps to protect the crown’s ego. The estimates of your husband’s net worth made your head spin.

Satoru joins you for breakfast and dinner every day. You never see him eat a morsel. It’s… unsettling to say the least. It’s always just that tin cup, filled with something you could never quite see. You develop a pattern of waking in the night, too, with the overwhelming sense that something is watching you. Sometimes you could swear you feel the bed shift as you jerk awake. Each time you simply close your eyes and try your best to slow your heart, convinced your mind is playing tricks on you. 

Your days feel a little more productive with a book in your hands, but you’ve read them all three times over by the time a fortnight has passed. You find yourself packing them up to return to Thomas when a certain black cover catches your attention. You grab it from the pile and settle back into your seat. You’ve nothing better to do, right? 

You flip back the cover, revealing a familiar title. “Creatures of Myth and Where to Find Them”. You don’t recognize the author’s name. A quick scroll through the table of contents reveals nothing particularly interesting, but you pick a random chapter on ghouls and decide to start there. 

It’s fascinating. Nothing about the style is boring and the words fly by. Your silly little myth book is a page turner. By the time you notice the light has started dying you’ve read about ghosts, fairies, werewolves, and goblins– all of which have been a delightful little read. A glance at the clock reveals you have a half hour before dinner. One more chapter, you think. Your eyes skim the title. “Vampires [Vampyr]”. 

You skim the first paragraphs until your eyes settle on a line that catches your eye. 

“Contrary to popular belief, vampires are not always crazed blood-hungry monsters. Many live among humans quite comfortably and are able to avoid detection with a little well-placed effort.” 

You purse your lips. What a… terrifying thought. You skim a little further. 

“A vampire’s key characteristic is, of course, their desire and need to drink human blood as sustenance. However, a vampire can be spotted sooner if one is able to recognize their subtler traits. Vampires often have skin lacking any sort of flush. The lack of blood in their veins results in a sickly pallor, even after the most rigorous exercise. Their skin is also noticeably cold to the touch. At best, a vampire’s body will reach room temperature. Vampires can also be noted for their preternatural beauty. They will stand out as the most attractive person in any crowd. Finally, a vampire will have fangs. If one wishes to identify a vampire, one only needs a good look at their teeth”.

A chill settles over your skin. You flip ahead a few pages. 

“Vampires are unable to consume typical human food. Should they attempt to, their bodies will immediately reject any and all foreign substances.” 

Your stomach drops. You don’t want to think about why. You skip the rest of the paragraph. 

“Vampires possess several supernatural abilities that set them apart as a human’s predator rather than their equal. Vampires are known to move unnaturally fast and are notably light footed. If a vampire does not wish to be heard, they will not be. A vampire’s strength is inhuman, well over ten times that of the average man. They also have a penchant for darkness, an ability to hide away in the shadows that cannot be explained. Oftentimes they will seem to appear from thin air.”

You skip ahead again.

“Vampires have been known to take mates. Mates usually come in the form of another vampire, but in some cases a human has been chosen. Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly. Oftentimes, vampires make these decisions with haste, with little regard for whether or not the threat was real. A vampire will do everything in their power to please their mate, but have been known to forcibly restrain their mates in situations of unrequited feelings. Above all else, vampires wish to possess their mates. Two bonded vampires will sometimes spiral into gloriously destructive fits in their endless desire to protect and possess one another. A vampire bonded to a human will show an increasingly protective nature, often isolating their mate from others.”

Your heart pounds. A bead of sweat rolls down your back. You flip the pages, desperate– desperate for a piece of information that will save you from the thoughts spilling in your mind, from the thoughts you will do anything not to believe. You reach the “Where to Find Them” subsection and nearly gasp with relief. Surely, vampires do not pose as wealthy lords of Europe? 

“Vampires can be found everywhere. They do not exist in only one country or continent, but all over the world. Odds are that you have faced at least one vampire in your life, unknowingly or not. Some vampires choose to live solitary lives, surviving in the wilderness where human society will not attempt to tame their wild nature. Others choose to live among humans, some even existing in positions of very high authority.” 

No, no, no. This can’t be happening to you. It can’t be real. You’re dreaming, you’re having one of those nightmares again. You’re going to wake up any second. 

“One tale recounts a razing of the Gojo estate in the 12th century.” 

You’re panting, hyperventilating. This isn’t happening. 

“Soldiers of the enemy force recounted a singular man, the son and heir of the then Lord Gojo, taking out a minimum of 800 men. He was described as having his family’s characteristic white hair as well as blue eyes. Eyewitness accounts depict the Gojo heir as covered in blood and killing savagely and with inhuman strength.” 

No, no, no. 

“(See next page for only existing portrait)”

Your fingers tremble but you can’t stop them. There’s no way. It’s not possible. 

You flip the page and Satoru stares back at you. 

Knock! Knock! Knock!

You nearly scream. Your door rattles angrily, but you’re not sure you can answer it, not with the knowledge flooding your mind. The knocking continues. You run your hand over your face and smooth down your hair. You feel frazzled, dirty, despite not having moved from your chair all day. Another knock prompts you to set your book aside and stand. You do your best to compose yourself, to put on a straight face. You fail instantly when you pull back the door not to reveal your faithful attendant, not Thomas, but Satoru. 

You bite back a shriek and instead force a smile. You’re suddenly very aware of the blood pounding in you veins and of the fact that he most likely knows. 

“Hello,” he says, but his voice is lower than usually, more intense. 

You force a breath into your lungs. “Hello,” you answer, but it sounds more like a squeak than a greeting. 

Something flashes in his eyes, something familiar, something that is no longer interesting but rather terrifying. “Are you alright? You seem a little… flushed.” The concern on his face feels anything but genuine. 

“I’m fine,” you answer, but even you can tell that reply too quickly, too eagerly. You rush to cover it up. “Is it time for dinner? Where’s Thomas?” 

His lip twitches and you see a muscle in his jaw flex. “Thomas has… left us.” 

No. This wasn’t happening to you. There was no way this was happening to you. 

“He… what?” There’s an unmistakable wobble in your voice that only causes Satoru’s face to fall further. 

“It’s no matter. He’s gone. Now it’s just you and me, hm?” He chuckles and the sound rattles your bones. “In fact, I was thinking I’d cut down on the number of servants we have entirely…” 

You mind races with the memory of knowledge you wish you didn’t have. “Vampires are fiercely protective of their mates, bordering on obsession. Any person deemed a threat to their bond or their mate’s safety is usually disposed of quickly.”

You nearly stumble, but lean against the doorframe just in time. Your husband had disposed of a man, all because he brought you meals and books?

“What have you been up to today, princess?” The question breaks your trance just in time for you to see your husband’s eyes flicker behind you. 

You wet your lips. “Just some reading.” You plead that he doesn’t ask anything further. He does. 

“About the estate?” he asks. 

You nod and try to swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes.”

His smile returns and this time it’s not forced. “You got my books, then?” 

You try smiling back, but you’re fairly sure it looks more like a grimace. “Yes.”

“Anything interesting?” he presses.

This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening. Does he know? Does he know that you know? “Yes, of course. Lots.” 

He pauses and you see the debate and then the decision in his eyes. You think it’s the first time you’ve felt true terror when he meets your gaze again. “I think we should skip dinner tonight. It seems we have so much to discuss.”

You don’t even have the wherewithal to scream when he steps into you, forcing you back until he’s shutting your door behind him. He doesn’t stop there, though. He keeps pressing, keeps pushing until your knees hit the bed and you’re falling to the mattress. He crawls right after you.

“Who knew my little wife was such a reader? All those books in such a short time… You must be simply spilling with information.” 

You retreat across the mattress, squeaking when your back hits the headboard and his arms cage your waist. You’re trapped.

His hands find your hips and you’re all too aware of how cool his touch is. Even more so when he pulls you right into his lap.

“Satoru-” your voice is pitiful, breathless, and you’re ashamed to say it’s not just from the fear in your gut. He’s never been this close before, never touched you, held you like this. “Thomas-” 

“Don’t speak his name.” His face pulls into the first scowl you’ve ever seen and the sight is enough to root you to the spot. Never have you seen anything more frightening. A creature so beautiful, so perfectly angelic, filled with an insurmountable rage. It’s wrong. “He’s gone. He’ll never bother you again.” He’s closer now, his breath skating over your skin. It’s cool and now you know the reason why. 

You shake and tremble and you know– Thomas is dead. Your husband killed him– killed him for getting too close when all he did was stay at a distance. Satoru killed him. Killed him. 

He buries himself in your neck, his voice a near whine. “Thought I could put up with it, just so you’d have someone to take care of you…” He groans. “I was so wrong, princess. Couldn’t stand it. Couldn’t stand the way you smelled more like him than me…” 

You feel him melt against you then, relief washing over his body in a wave. “But he’s gone. And now it’s just you and me, hm? Just you and me…” He hums, like remembering that fact is all he’s ever needed.

He’s kissing your pulse again, now, and your heart is racing faster than ever. Your fingers curl into his shoulders. You should push him away, away, away. He’s a killer, of thousands no doubt. You’ve never felt at home here, never felt like you belonged. This is why. You’re not even the same species. He’s something else, something your hands were never meant to touch. 

Your mind screams at you to do go, to shove and kick at him and leave this place behind. Go, go, go your gut says… but you don’t. You can’t. It’s too… good. The feeling of his cool lips against your skin, of what you’re sure is his tongue prodding at your pulse… it’s intoxicating. He is intoxicating. How could anyone blame you for wanting more of someone, something, so divine? 

“Have you figured it out yet, love?” Your breath hitches and he chuckles, licking a long stripe up your neck, before he settles back at your pulse. Always your pulse. “I can feel those little gears turning. Tell me, what have they discovered?” 

He knows you know. But he’s going to make you say it. You swallow and feel his grip on you tighten. “You’re…” Your breaths come faster. You can’t. Not aloud. Aloud makes it too… real. 

“Yessss?” he prods. He’s licking at you again, all the way across your throat to find your other pulse-point. 

“You’re not…” Something sharps nicks at your skin and you bite your lip to hold back a whimper. 

“Go on, princess.” You think he’s just smelling you now, just burying his face as close to you as possible and taking you in. 

You close your eyes tightly, holding back tears. “Not human,” you breathe. A piece of you breaks with the admission.

He huffs a little laugh against your skin and pulls back to look you in the eye. “That’s good,” he purrs. “But I think you can be a little more specific, no?” His lips press to your chin, then the corner of your mouth, then down to your jaw… “Tell me.” 

Your lips wobble, muscles clenching tighter with each passing moment. You don’t want to say it, don’t want to speak it into existence, but you also don’t dare to disobey him. 

“You’re a…” You shake and tremble. He draws a line up your neck with the tip of his nose.

“Mhm?” 

You open your eyes, thinking this might be the last time you see. “Vampire.” 

He chuckles and you feel his teeth press to the skin of your neck. “That’s right, princess. So smart.” 

He smiles and you suddenly realize you’ve never seen his teeth before. Everytime he smiles at you it’s close-lipped and dimpled. But this… this is the smile of a predator– all white and pointy and fitted with a set of menacingly long fangs. You sob at the sight. 

“Shhhhh,” he coos. He has your chin in his hand, forcing you to truly look at him, to see him for what he is. “I won’t hurt you, love.” You want to believe him so badly it burns, but his laugh washes away any fire and turns it to ice. “Not unless you want me to.” He wiggles a brow like it’s just a little joke, like he’s not an actual fucking vampire that had his fangs over your neck just moments ago. 

“Satoru,” you beg. You’re not sure what you’re begging for. Release maybe? But, no, that’s not right. You don’t want him to let you go, not when you finally have him close after all this time. “Why did you pick me?” 

The question slips out. You hadn’t even been thinking about it, hadn’t even noticed it scratching at the walls of your mind, but it made its way out nonetheless.

His brow creases, but not in confusion. Moreso in… thoughtfulness. “Do you think about that a lot, princess?” 

You nod and you suddenly want him closer, want him to touch you everywhere, hold you like his life depends on it. You want him, no matter how horrible it might be. 

He nods and hums, kissing the tip of your nose lightly. “Well…” he says. His thumb swipes over your lips when he leans in to whisper in your ear. “At first I wanted you for this.” His head dips to your neck again and you feel the familiar brush of his lips against your throat. “You smell…” he chuckles. “Like heaven. Which is a place I’ll never get to on my own, so I had to bring my own little slice home, no?” He laughs again, a little louder this time, genuinely amused. “Went into town one day and caught your scent on the street. At first I thought I must be walking past the bakery, but, lo and behold, there was no baker in sight.” He’s still kissing at your pulse, worshiping it. “Went crazy, princess. Didn’t think I was going to be able to contain myself when I found you. Thought it might be quite the scene.” He huffs a laugh and you shiver, somehow both terrified and intoxicated. “But then I saw you–” he groans and something clenches deep at your center. “And I knew I needed more than just your blood. Needed you.” He’s rocking into you now, and your breath catches when you feel something firm against your backside. “Went to you in that little room you slept in every night. Watched you. Couldn’t stay away. Knew I had to have you.” You feel him smile against your skin. “After a week I couldn’t take it anymore. Sent you that letter, married you. Made you mine.” He groans again. “Then I met you and you were so pretty, princess. Already knew it, but hearin’ you talk to me, look at me.” Teeth graze your pulse. “Needed you more than ever. Almost took you right on the fucking floor in here while you were lookin’ at those dresses.” You whine when his hips roll into you again. “Oh, but I knew I couldn’t. You’re so fragile, love. Had to wait, had to make you feel safe, yeah? Spent all this time forcing myself to stay away, ‘fraid of what I might too if I was in your presence too long. Had to control myself. Had to make you realize you could trust me.” He panting, like he’s so pent up he can hardly sit still. “Do you trust me, princess?” 

Your brows scrunch. Say no, say no, say no a part of you screams. Run, run, run. You can’t. “Yes,” you breathe. 

You feel him smile again, feel the pleasure of submission. “Good girl.” 

You’re on your back. It happens so fast your eyes don’t even have time to gasp. You don’t see Satoru, but you feel him. Everywhere. His hands are roaming your body softly, sliding under buttons and laces and popping them off. Your dress loosens with every passing moment until Satoru reappears above you, diving straight for your neck again. “So good, princess. Let’s get you out of this dress, yeah?” 

You nod wordlessly, entranced. He finds your mouth as he rids you of your clothes. His tongue presses in and you flail against him, unsure of what to do, of how to handle the intrusion. The kiss is heavy, too heavy, but Satoru can’t seem to stop. He devours you as he gives up on laces and buttons and simply shreds your dress down the back. You tremble when the cold air hits your skin, when his cool fingers dust your collarbone. 

“I always forget how many damn layers they make you ladies wear,” he chuckles. His hands run beneath your shift, up across your bare thigh. You gasp at the touch. No one has even been so close to you before. You feel the threads of your corset snapping away, feel your breaths growing deeper. You tremble when he pulls your sleeve down past your shoulder and runs his mouth along the newly exposed skin. 

“Satoru,” you gasp, and your hand pulls at his flowing white shirt. 

He chuckles, pulling back just enough to see your face. “You wanna see me too?” You nod, lips parted and eyes glassy, and he laughs again. He lips dust over the corner of your mouth. “Alright.” 

His hands shift from you to himself, working at the laces on his chest. His movements are speedy, practiced, like he’s been lacing and unlacing shirts for hundreds of years. Your throat tightens when you realize that he has. 

You gasp when he reveals himself, when his shirt slides away to reveal an expanse of pale skin and carved muscle. You’ve never seen a man like this and seeing one this close up for the first time is nearly blinding. He’s art, you think- nothing less. 

“Touch me, princess,” he says. You can’t. You shouldn’t. He’s too beautiful, too perfect to be beneath your insignificant hands. “Need a little help?” he asks, and there’s a lilt in his voice that makes you sure he’s grinning. 

His hands find yours and bring them to his chest, running your palms over his collarbones, his pecs, down, down, down across his abs that you can feel each and every one… You whimper, watching your own fingers grope his skin. He pulls you lower, lower, lower, and you gasp when your fingertips brush the waistband of his pants. But then he’s laughing again and he’s throwing your arms over his shoulders and pulling you closer, kissing your neck like it pained him to be parted from your pulse for so long. 

“Not so fast,” he says, like he wasn’t the one nearly stuffing your hands down his pants. His hands are on your corset again. You can feel it dangling onto you by a thread, literally. All he needs is a couple more pulls and you’ll be bare. By the look he gives you, you can tell he’s 

thinking the same thing. “You touch me, now I touch you, yeah?” There’s a tug and a tear and then so much… cold. You’ve never realized how cold this castle is, not until you’re exposed to its elements fully. You’re naked. 

Satoru sits back on his knees and just watches. His gaze is searing, burning, despite the iciness of his being. It’s too much. Your hands move to cover yourself, to maintain some modicum of your dignity- 

“No.” Strong hands find your wrists and pry them apart. “Let me see you,” he says. His tongue darts out to lick his lips. 

Your jaw clenches and your frame shakes, but you do as he asks, letting your hands fall limply at your sides. There’s silence for many more moments and it seems to go on so long that you can only squeeze your eyes shut under his gaze. Surely he will turn you away now, get up and leave, tell you this was a mistake, tell you that you’re– 

“Beautiful,” he breathes. Your eyes snap open to find him already staring at you. “Beautiful,” he says again, and then he’s on you, lips at your pulse, hands on your skin. His touch is cool and you squeak at the chill that runs up your spine. You’re not sure it’s entirely from his temperature. 

His mouth seeks yours and he devours you. You feel as if he’s sucking your soul out through your lips. “Tell me you’ve never done this before,” he begs. “Tell me I’m the first to touch you.” 

You whine against his mouth, both aching for more and overwhelmed by what he’s already giving you. “Y-You’re the first,” you whisper. 

His groan is deep, primal. It rattles through your chest and you whimper when his hands dig into your waist hard enough to bruise. “Yes,” he breathes, and you shiver again. “Lie back, princess.” Your eyes widen, with anticipation or fear you’re not sure. Probably both. He chuckles. “Don’t worry. I’ll be gentle.” 

You pray he means that. “Just relax, love. Here, hold my hand.” His fingers find yours, twining them together. When you swallow, his eyes follow the bob of your throat. He leans back again and your body twitches when his free hand skims the skin of your thighs. His tongue darts out to wet his lips as he finds your knees and you gasp when he parts your legs, revealing you so completely to his gaze. The way he stares, like he’s committing you to memory, it’s nearly enough to make you snap your thighs shut, but a squeeze from his hand reminds you to relax, to trust. 

His palm skates up your thigh and settles near your hip, his fingertips inching closer to where you can feel an embarrassing throb. 

“Tell me, love. Have you ever touched yourself here?” His fingers dust low on your tummy- just low enough for you to catch his meaning, but not low enough to give you any relief. Your face heats and your teeth dig into the flesh of your cheek. You have, you have touched yourself there, but it’s the last thing you want to admit to your new husband. It’s shameful, it’s dirty, it’s- “Don’t think I’ll judge you, princess. Just wanna know.” 

You gulp down a breath. You should come clean. “Y-yes,” you stutter, and the sound of your voice so weak and helpless only makes you flush further. 

He chuckles and squeezes your hand again. “On the outside or the inside?” 

Your eyes widen. I-inside? You’d never considered that… “J-just the outside,” you answer. 

Your eyes grow even wider when his head rolls back and he moans straight up to the ceiling like your answer is heaven-sent. When he looks back to you his fangs are on full display. “Well, I think you and I are in for a little treat today, hm?” 

Your brow furrows and your lips part to ask him what he means– his fingers travel those last few inches down your tummy and find your clit. You squeak and jolt so violently that he presses a hand to your hip, holding you to the mattress. “Somebody’s sensitive,” he chuckles. He holds you still for a moment and then lets your hips go free. “Try to stay still. I promise it’ll feel good.”

You nod hopelessly, but this time you’re prepared for when he touches you again. Your muscles clench at the first touch, at the foreign sensation of a touch down there that wasn’t your own. But then it’s more. It’s languid, slow circles around a spot that you’ve never been able to pinpoint so well on your own. It’s heat building in your tummy that seeps through every vein and into every pore. It’s relaxation that you’ve never known, that has you melting into the mattress despite the chill of the touch. 

There’s a little huff of a laugh and then his voice. “Good girl. Feels nice, yeah?” You nod hesitantly and squeeze desperately at his hand, searching for an anchor. His head cocks to the side and you watch the smile slide across his lips. “It’s about to feel even nicer.” 

By the time you realize what he’s doing it’s far too late to stop him. His mouth closes around your cunt and you yelp, trying to wiggle away from the overwhelming sensation- but he’s got his freehand on your hip again and his grip is bruising, punishing, as he holds you in place. He licks a stripe through your folds and you find yourself jolting again, uselessly so against the pressure of his palm on your hip. “Stop that, princess.” Your heart drops at the admonishment until you feel his guiding touch. “Rock into me like this.” His hand rocks your hips into his mouth and the pressure of his tongue against your clit is so delicious that you whimper. “Good girl,” he says and your heart rises right back up. “Keep doing that, now.” You don’t dare defy him. You rock like he showed you, a little jerkily at first, and then you find a rhythm that has you seeing stars. “That’s it, love,” he says, and the sound is muffled against your cunt. “Here, put your hand in my hair.” He finds your wrist and guides you forward until your fingers are tangling in those snowy locks. They’re even softer than you’d imagined. “Good girl,” he whispers and suddenly he’s taking one last long lick and lifting his head to meet your eyes. “‘M gonna put my fingers in you now, princess.” Your chin wobbles. “It might hurt a little bit, but stay still, okay?” You can’t do anything but nod. 

His eyes return to your cunt and you can feel him prodding at your entrance, circling the hole as you clench in anticipation. “Relaaaaaax, love,” he says and you nod. A deep breath in through your nose and out through your mouth– 

You feel the exact moment he pushes into you and a whine of pain rips from your throat. Your walls clamp down like a vice, angry at the intrusion– but it’s already too late. There’s a beat of silence, of anticipation, and then he’s– laughing? 

Your brows furrow when you hear it, your head lifting to a sight that locks your limbs in shock. Satoru’s hand is lifted in front of his face, his pointer finger coated in– blood, you realize. Your blood. And he’s a fucking vampire. 

“Oh princess,” he coos, and the manic look in his eyes makes you tremble. “You really are perfect.” 

Things seem to slow as you watch him take his blood covered finger into his mouth. You’re sure you’ve never seen an expression more blissful, more lost to sensation. His eyes roll back and his body shivers, like he’s ascending to some higher plane. Maybe he is. 

When he pulls his finger from his mouth it’s completely licked clean. You hold your breath. He’s going to go for your neck now, right? He’s had a taste and now he’ll want more of it, all of it?

“Fuck,” is all he says. His mouth is back on your cunt so fast you don’t even see him move. 

Your mouth falls wide. It hurts, the way he is so desperately licking at you. You feel his finger again, pressing in, in, in, only to pull back and suddenly be joined by another. The stretch tears at you. You thrash and jolt, but Satoru doesn’t bother telling you to stop this time. His arm wraps over your hips, holding you in place. He seems immune to how hard your legs squeeze at his head or your hands pull at his hair. He’s lost. You can feel him licking, lapping, and prodding at you like you’re a fucking gold mine. He’s lost to desperation, to the need for more, more, more. Every so often he lifts his chin and you see his mouth smudged with a mixture of your wetness and your blood. He laps at his lips like an animal, dragging his thumb across his chin and sliding it into his mouth to make sure he gets every last drop. 

You’re not quite sure when the ravenous pain turns to a ravenous pleasure, when it turns from terrifying to downright delicious. You don’t notice your moans filling the air until Satoru joins you, groaning and whining into your cunt and telling you to keep going, to keep making those sounds. The hand you have buried in his hair doesn’t fight to push him away any longer, only to pull him into those now practiced rocks of your hips. His fingers thrust deep, curling into a spot that makes you feel so good and his mouth has found your clit again. He sucks your nerves lightly between his lips, tongue swirling in little circles. Your thighs start to shake. 

“Yes. Yes. Give it to me.” 

“S-Satoru–” you breathe. Warmth and tightness pool in your tummy, and you recognize it as your approaching orgasm, though you know this one will be far different than any you’ve ever managed to give yourself. Your body shakes and your breaths tremble and then– you fall over the edge, rocking your hips senselessly, losing all form of rhythm. Warmth tingles in your spine and seeps all the way down to your toes. You think you cry out, cry for your husband, cry for more, cry for less, but if you do you don’t hear it. All you hear is the pounding of your pulse, of pleasure throbbing in your veins until the world slowly seeps back in through the corners of your vision. 

Satoru is grinning. A speck of your blood clings to his chin and his fangs peek out from behind his lips. The sight makes your blood run a little colder. If any part of you doubted what he was before… well, there was no doubt any longer. 

There’s a shift between your legs, his hips slotting between them, and you’re suddenly snapped back to reality. From the look in his eyes, you’re not done. 

Frantic hands find his pants and he undoes each button with a quickness that is almost inhuman. You wonder if he could go even faster, if he’s holding back so as not to scare you. If he is, it isn’t working very well. Fear surges in your veins right alongside anticipation. 

“S-Satoru–”

“It’s alright, love.” His hand finds yours without his eyes ever looking up. His grip is just a little too firm, a little too cold. “Just stay still.” 

You whimper, but you don’t think he’s paying attention to that, and soon enough, neither are you. His pants slide down just past his hips, just enough. You gasp. 

You’ve never seen a man in the nude, never even dared to think about what it might look like, though it seemed you no longer had to guess. His hand wrapped around his shaft, giving one long and slow stroke that made his breath hiss through his fangs. The tip was flushed, angry, and leaking something that looked clear and sticky. You couldn’t help but notice it was a lot thicker than a finger, or even two. If his fingers had hurt…

He moves with that alarming quickness again, leaning down to hover over you, chests nearly pressed together. “Gonna take you now, princess. Gonna make you mine.” His eyes bore into yours, blue and shimmering with something wild. His hand presses into the mattress beside your head. “Stay still, now.”

It’s all the warning he gives you. You feel like you’re splitting– straight up the middle. You wail, hands flying out to claw at his back. It hurts. It hurts. 

“Satoru, p-please! It’s–” 

Lips catch yours– hungry, feral. The kiss is not gentle, not soothing. It shuts you up, it keeps you quiet, it keeps you still as you feel him sinking further, deeper into you. It’s too much, you try to say, but the poke of sharp teeth against your lips keeps you silent. Your hips jolt and wiggle trying desperately to escape the stretch but it’s no use. By the time he’s fully inside you, tears are streaking down your cheeks, fat and heavy. His lips break away and his eyes reappear. You shake when you see that none of the wildness has been tamed, that you’ve only just begun.

“Good girl,” he coos, and a cool finger traces a line across your jaw. “Took me so well.” You hold back a sob when his hips shift a little, testing, prodding. He must see the pinch of your eyes, the twist of your mouth, because he’s quick to comfort. “Just hold my hand, princess.” His hips rock in earnest this time and you whimper, squeezing down on his hand with all your might. You’re panting as he chuckles. “Breathe, love. Breathe. Soon you’ll be begging for more,” he laughs. It’s not long before he’s rocking into you sincerely, setting a pace that stretches you to the brink of breaking. At first it’s all you can do to grasp onto him, to bite your lips through the whimpers and hold his hand. And then it’s… more. It’s heat and warmth despite the coolness of his body on yours. It’s sensation and… pleasure. He laughs when the first moan slides past your lips, burying his face in your neck once again. You hear him at your ear, panting his hot breath across your skin. 

“Feel good, princess?” You nod, letting your hips rock against his as he showed you before. It feels good– it feels right. He chuckles, but there’s nothing light about the sound. “Wanna feel even better?” Something sharp pokes at the skin of your neck, hard enough to make you squeak, to make you freeze at what you know he wants. 

He pulls himself back, pressing his forehead to yours, searching your eyes with his. Something like a cruel smile dances on his mouth. “Just a taste, love. I promise it won’ hurt.” His tongue darts out and licks across your lips, his thrusts rocking just a bit faster. “You’ll feel s’ good an’ I’ll only take a little.” He laughs again and it sends a chill through your bones. “Promise.” He sounds breathless, like he’s struggling to restrain himself. The increase of his pace makes you whine and you squeeze his hand again. He buries himself back in your neck, panting. “Come on, love. Say yes. Say yes f’ me.” Your eyes glaze over. Your body justles with each new thrust. He’s desperate now, seeking a release that you don’t think is any kind you’re familiar with. “Yes, yes, yes,” he chants in your ear. You’re not sure when his words twist in your mind, when they settle on your tongue and push past your lips, but you know it feels so right when they do. 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

His fangs clamp around your pulse. You scream when the sting rips through you, violent and savage– but it only lasts a moment. Pain fades to… ecstasy. You feel his throat bobbing with each swallow, feel your blood seeping from your skin and onto his tongue. You’d thought it would feel slicing, draining, like the life was being sucked from you. It doesn’t. It feels wonderful. Heat spreads under your skin, emanating from your neck and down to your toes. It feels like breathing for the first time, like sugar being pumped into your veins. It feels like heaven. Your hand tangles in his hair, holding him close. You don’t want it to stop, not ever. You could die like this, have him suck every last drop of blood from your veins and thank him for it with your dying breath. 

He’s moaning now, hands curling into your hips while he fucks into you relentlessly. The pace is grueling and brutal. You know it should hurt but only feels perfect. Anything less would not be enough. Anything else would leave you wanting. You feel it building, feel that familiar twinge at your core. The ecstasy flooding through your veins has it coming faster, has you teetering on the edge in moments. 

“Satoru…” You hadn’t noticed how dizzy you felt until you tried to speak. You wonder why… “‘M gonna…” 

He fucks you harder, something menacing and deep rumbling in his chest. The sound makes you shiver, makes you whine, makes you come. 

Your body shakes and a cry rips from your throat, cunt clenching like a vice around him. Your eyes roll back, hands scraping trails down his back. Your thighs quake with the intensity, with the overwhelming senses of pleasure that erupt throughout your body. Every nerve is firing, every hair rising. It’s an unstoppable current, one that sweeps you away, helpless to its pull. 

His thrusts grow sloppy and untimed. His grip on your hips tightens, holding you in place while he makes you his. His teeth break from your neck and when you look up through blurry eyes you see his head thrown back, your blood streaming down his chin in thick little globs. You feel it when he cums, feel the thick ropes of it seeping into your womb, feel the way he keeps fucking you, pushing it deeper and deeper inside. He’s moaning, chanting your name like a prayer at the heavens. 

When the moment ends he slumps over you, eyes half lidded and tired. There’s a familiar grin on his lips, one that inspires both comfort and uneasiness in your gut. You can’t help but stare at him, at the blood that stains his chin and cheeks, that reddens his lips so beautifully. You want to reach out and touch him, touch his blood-soaked skin and see what it feels like, what it tastes like. What you taste like. 

His eyes slide to the side, finding your pulse again. You groan. Yes, you think. Please, yes. More. You don’t think you’ll ever get enough of that. Of his teeth in your flesh, of the euphoria flooding your veins. More, more, more, your mind chants. 

He chuckles lightly and shakes his head. “No, princess.” He raises a finger to trace the curve of your neck. “I took more than I should have…” His expression doesn’t tense with worry. His cheeks pull into a smile, those little dimples shining through. “But what can I say? You just taste so good.” Like he needs to emphasize his point, his tongue darts out to trace his lips, lapping up some of the remaining blood on his chin. “You taste like mine.”

You whine. More, more, more. It’s all you can think about. You lift an arm weakly. You want to pull him to your neck, to make him drink, to make him fill you with the heaven you had just moments ago. 

He catches your wrist and brings it to his lips, inhaling deeply. His lips split into another grin and you see his eyes spark again with the wildness you crave. 

“Not yet, princess.” he coos. “But soon.” His smile grows even wider, until those fangs are on full display, until you’re trembling again. “Forever,” he whispers.

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[mariasont]

Imagine this for me, feel free to ignore this but it’s rotting in my brain 💀 some fluffy Fem!BAU reader x Aaron Hotchner pretty please ��🏻

Reader and another member of the team enter a suspected unsub’s house, working in biochemistry and bio weapons🧬🔬🧪, reader accidentally triggers some alarm/security system and gets sprayed w an unknown substance😱🤯

(anthrax for angst/hurt comfort, aphrodisiac for smut…..or for fluff like a laughing gas??)

n reader has to get checked out by medics n in the back of the ambulance or the hospital (in context of laughing gas) with extremely concerned Aaron, and miss girl cannot hold it together, cracking jokes, giggling at herself, Aaron and nothing in particular, BLATANTLY flirting with Aaron (who wouldn’t let’s be fr) n he’s tryna keep his professionalism so bad but cracks n says something she wasn’t supposed to hear, she replies with something along the lines of

“take me out on a date first, sir.”

The side effects lasting the entire flight back too so the whole team gets to witness reader all snuggled up to Aaron, complimenting him, pulling full on smiles out of him, making him blush- AAAAH pls I’m rattling the bars of my cage thinking about it

PLEASE 🫠🫠I’m hanging out for some tooth-rotting fluff, once again feel free to ignore,

Happy writing 💜💜

DANGEROUS - A.H

a/n: LOLOLOL i loved this request thank you so much i hope this is what you were wanting <3

masterlist

pairings: aaron hotchner x fem!reader

warnings: reader being persistent asf, home girl isn't backing down for NOTHING

wc: 1.3k

"Where is she?"

Hotch's words sliced through the sterile air of the ER, stripped of kindness or patience, devoid of his usual restraint. His presence seemed to consume the hallway, his tie loose, his brow drawn, and his composure unraveled in ways only you could cause.

Morgan intercepted him before he got too far.

"Hotch—cool it. She's okay." Hotch's glare could've sent anyone else running, but Morgan held his ground. "I get it. You're worried. But barging in there all hot-headed? Not gonna help."

"She's under observation," Morgan continued before Hotch could push past him. "Doc says whatever she got hit with isn't dangerous--just... weird. A little chemical happy hour, let's say. She's harmless and giggly."

Hotch's brows furrowed together, pushing past Morgan and opening the door to find you sprawled in the hospital bed.

The sight of you sent his heart into a freefall. Your cheeks were flushed, your hair was a mess, and your eyelids drooped like you'd been awake for hours—but you were alive. He scanned you quickly, searching for injuries, bruises, something tangible to explain why it still felt like the world had tilted off its axis. When he came up empty, a small weight lifted from his shoulders, but the tightness in his chest wouldn't let go.

"Hotch." Your voice, soft and a little slurred, tugged him out of his own head. You blinked up lazily up at him, a sleepy, crooked smile spreading across your lips. "Hey, you."

He frowned, his steps eating the distance between you. "How do you feel? What did the doctors say?"

You giggled—giggled. "I feel fantabulous, boss man. Why're you always so serious? It's kind of cute, though. You're cute."

"Cute?" He blinked, startled, as if the word was foreign coming from you. His brow creased in confusion, though his eyes betrayed the faintest trace of relief. "You're in a hospital bed because of a biochemical exposure. Nothing about this is remotely cute."

"Okay, okay, Captain Grumpy Pants." You patted the bed beside you, and for a moment he just stared. "Sit down before you pop a blood vessel."

"What did that chemical do to you?"

Your laughter bubbled up--bright, unrestrained, and completely inappropriate given the circumstances. "I dunno! But it's great. Like... fun. You should try it. Loosen up, Aaron!"

The casual drop of his first name hit him like a slap in the face, and you caught the split second of surprise before he could smother it. Grinning wider, you leaned forward, eyes twinkling like you'd discovered his Achilles' heel.

"You worried about me, Aaron? That's sweet. And for the record, you wear stress well. Very rugged. Broody Hotchner."

Hotch's jaw tensed visibly, a muscle jumping beneath his skin as he tried--and failed--not to react. He was sure he liked the sound of his name rolling off your tongue entirely more than was appropriate. "You're not making any sense."

"And you don't smile enough," you countered easily. "You've got this whole tall, dark, and scowly thing going on, but when you smile? Oh, man. Broody Hotchner becomes downright irresistible."

He stared at you, mouth slightly open like he'd forgotten how to respond. The blush that crept up his neck and toward his ears betrayed him, though he looked anywhere but at you.

"Rugged and speechless?" Your grin spread wider. "Oh, this is definitely my new favorite hobby."

He said your name, low and clipped--a warning and a plea all wrapped into one.

You waved him off, giggling as you propped your chin in your hand, the faintest smirk tugging at your lips. "Oh, lighten up. Admit it—you like me. I'm the best part of your day."

Before he could even form a reply, the door creaked open, and Emily stepped in. "She's cleared to go. The jet's ready. You'll have to wrangle her out of here, though."

Hotch straightened immediately, thankful for the interruption. You, on the other hand, poured dramatically. "Aww, we were just getting to the good part."

"Let's go," Hotch muttered, ignoring Emily's obvious smirk as he grabbed your bag from the chair and stepped closer to the bed. When you didn't move, he gave you a look--a look you were all too familiar with. "Up."

"Look at you. So polite," you teased, sliding your hands into his as he helped you sit upright. 

Hotch didn't answer, just looped an arm under yours as he coaxed you to your feet. You swayed for a second--just enough to make him grab your other elbow. His movements were careful--surprisingly gentle for someone with such sharp edges. "Easy."

"You're just so reliable." You were leaning into his side more than you probably needed to. "See this is why I think you like me."

"You can think whatever you want as long as you keep walking."

Emily grinned as the two of you passed. "Smooth, Hotch. Real smooth."

--

The low rumble of the jet engines filled the cabin, but Hotch wasn't hearing any of it. All of his attention was on you--curled up on the seats, hands waving animatedly as you grinned at your captive audience, chatting nonstop like a queen addressing her subjects. Morgan and Reid were clearly enjoying the show.

"No, no, Spencer, you're not hearing me." You sat up with exaggerated effort, poking Reid's arm as if to emphasize your point. "If you combined your brain with Derek's charm, you'd be unstoppable. A super-agent. Like, Avengers level."

Reid's face flushed immediately, and Morgan barked out a laugh. "See, I told you, Pretty Boy—everyone's gotta have a little charm."

"I'm plenty charming," Spencer grumbled, though the small, amused smile gave away how he really felt.

Hotch leaned back in his seat, hands folded tightly in his lap, but his focus never left you. He was beyond exhausted, the weight of the last few hours settling heavy in his bones, but still, he refused to tear his eyes away. It wasn't rational, but the thought of looking away--even for a second--felt like it might undo having you here, safe and whole.

You noticed. Of course you did.

The pout that appeared on your face was immediate. "Hotch! You're all the way over there. That's too far."

He blinked, his heart stumbling for just a moment, your tone cracking through his carefully constructed walls. "I'm fine where I am."

"But I'm not," you whined, shifting toward the edge of your seat and looking far too pleased with yourself. "C'mon, boss man. Sit with me."

Morgan leaned into Reid with a grin. "She's relentless, man."

Hotch shot Morgan a quick glare before standing, crossing the cabin with deliberate strides. He lowered himself stiffly onto the seat next to you, his posture straight as a board. "Happy now?"

"Mm-hmm," you hummed, sliding closer and resting your head on his shoulder with hesitation.

He started to say your name, but you cut him off with a content sigh. "You're warm. Did anyone ever tell you you're like a human space heater? Very cozy, Hotchner."

Hotch swallowed. "You need to rest."

"I am resting. You're just really nice to lean on." You tilted your head up, peaking at him with half-lidded eyes. "You're handsome too. Did I mention that already? Like...impossibly handsome. It's a little unfair."

He froze. Completely and utterly froze. His hands hovered awkwardly over his knees, unsure of where to go as you snuggled closer, completely oblivious to the predicament you were putting him in. He could feel the team watching--Morgan's smirk, Emily's barely contained laughter, even Reid's curious glances--but none of them dare to say a word.

He said your name once again, this time softer, but you were already gone, eyes slipping shut, breath evening out as you dozed off against him.

Professional. He needed to be professional. He repeated the word in his head like a mantra, but with you pressed so contentedly against him, it felt like a losing battle.

And then he caught it--your perfume. Soft, faintly floral, and as familiar to him as the sound of your voice. It was the same scent he'd picked up in stolen moments: when you walked by his desk, leaving a hint of it behind, or leaned over his shoulder during a briefing. He'd grown used to it, let it blur into the background like everything else about you he shouldn't notice.

But now? Now it was inescapable, a subtle, dizzying distraction that tugged at what little composure he had left.

His chest tightened as an irrational thought hit him--what it would be like to have this forever. To breathe in your scent every morning instead of just in passing. To have you against him not as a fleeting accident but as a choice. He had no business entertaining these thoughts--thoughts of how easy it would be to have you like this all the time.

And that? That was dangerous.

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[dizzycoffee]

hihiiii can i ask for hc’s and maybe a small drabble for lucifer, lute, adam, and charlie with a (fem) reader who tends to unintentionally fluster them ?

— Lucifer, Lute, Adam, Charlie / Fem!Reader; Headcanons

*･゜ﾟ･*:.｡..｡.:*･ HEADCANONS ･*:.｡. .｡.:*･゜ﾟ･*

— Lucifer;

Intentional or not, he always wonders how you can be so smooth with your words / actions

He tries to reply with the same tone, but he always stumbles with his words

“You’re so cute when you stutter—” “STOP IT.”

Whenever you lightly tease him, he melts from both embarrassment and love

You chuckled softly upon seeing his already blushing face. “Aw, come on, don’t go shy on me already,” you teased, getting pleasantly surprised when you see the way his face reddens at your words. You truly don’t understand how your choice of words could affect him so much — but you weren’t really complaining.

You always laugh it off, but you definitely like the way he just begins to flush over your words

There are times that you forget that he's Lucifer, though. He'll catch you off guard yourself, saying something surprisingly smooth with that enticing voice of his, and he'll eat up every detail of your own flustered face

"Oh so this is how it feels to fluster, huh?"

Essentially, you both match each other's energy <3

— Lute;

my guilty pleasure fr

She'd totally try to cover her blush with frustration

At first, you used to think she hated being around you. Her face always turned red and judging by her scowl, you assumed it was because she was angry

The only reason you found out otherwise was because of Adam, who was brutally teasing Lute

"HAH, no way, your face is so red!" You were going down a hall when you heard Adam's taunting voice ring out. Before you could tune them out, another voice spoke up, "You heard her, who the hell says that so casually?" Oh, Lute was with him too. You paused for a moment, letting Adam reply. "Ooooh Lute, you look so cute with your hair pulled back!" he spoke in a mocking high-pitched tone, laughing right after when he heard Lute bark out, "Unlike you, she didn't sound annoying!" ... Wasn't that the compliment you told Lute earlier that day?

After that, you couldn't help but to stop by a bit more often during training, simply to converse a bit more

While you didn't understand how you can cause her to have that reaction, it didn't stop you from pushing forward

I mean, it just means she's not mad at you. And she also hasn't said anything about you needing to stop... you're sure it's fine!

It wasn't until one day she just yells "Why do you feel the need to torment me?!"

"I'm sorry... I just think you look so pretty when you blush."

She "reluctantly" asks you out on a date after that

— Adam;

guilty pleasure 2.0

Whenever you first catch him off guard, he goes silent for like,, a good minute

It takes a moment to register that his heart skipped a beat and his face began to burn from the blood that was rushing to his cheeks

After hanging out with you, he has to take a moment to sort of realize that someone genuinely makes him flustered and not the other way around

Initially, he's like "well no duh I'm blushing a bit, she's hot as fuck" but that later turns into him being like "she said my hair looks nice today, does that mean anything?? my face is burning, does she notice all of that?? is all of this on purpose??"

He'll call you (jokingly) an attention whore, which you're confused about and leaves him to explain...

Adam chuckled dryly, "You know... because you're, like, constantly flirting with me. That makes you an attention whore." He tried to keep his cool, he really did. But when all you could do was muster up an awkward smile and head tilt of confusion, he realized you genuinely didn't mean to actually fluster him. Fuck. "Don't take it to heart, sugar tits. I'm just joking!" he laughed it off.

After that "incident" he actually tries to match your energy

If you make him blush, he makes it his mission to see you at least giggle from his flirting

I think it's safe to say Adam sort of sucks at flirting because most of his "flirtatiousness" it just lewd comments and stuff

So it takes a while to actually make you blush from his words and not because he said something embarrassingly lewd

You still appreciate his efforts of course :)

— Charlie;

You are, by far, her biggest distraction

She'll be in the middle of trying to come up with lesson plans when you come up to her and say something like "but Charlie, I miss your kisses..."

Immediately folds for you

I'm positive she openly simps for you, no other way around it

"Isn't she just the cutest? She said I look so adorable with a bow tie! She's so considerate and so..." Charlie swooned as her words drifted off into a ran, face already flushed. Angel raised a brow, "Isn't it, like, the third time she makes you go red? You don't think you're sick or somethin'?" "And it's only the morning," Husk groaned behind the two.

The hotel residents are sick of it /hj

Something that they do appreciate it whenever you're able to calm Charlie down from going overboard. Whether it's with the lesson of the day or her going into a near breakdown over how the hotel isn't going how it's supposed to

While, yes, your words definitely have her giggling and kicking her feet, she mainly goes wild over your actions

The way you'll take her hands into yours, looking her in the eyes as you gently tell her "it'll all work out, just be patient."

She just can't imagine a world where you're not by her side, constantly making her heart flutter

She doesn't typically try to match your flirting, especially because she knows that you don't exactly mean to be flirty

But that doesn't stop her from complimenting you and your words/actions

"You really make my day with your words!"

[simpjaes]

ONE OF THE DAMNED GIRLS PT. 2 (P.SH)

Moving to a city with wild nights and charming days felt like the perfect choice in your head upon finishing college. Hours away from home, you accept a job at a local museum ironically placed dead between a large historic cathedral and a booming gothic nightclub. You were meant to curate the art, not be curated yourself by a local priest who found you with buckled knees outside of said goth club. ― part one | MINORS DNI

PAIRING ― vampire park sunghoon x afab reader  

WORDCOUNT ― 21.8k

CONTENT ―  modern vampire sunghoon, cathedral/chapel settings, blasphemous behavior, false holy facades, the main vampire trope i use is the act of drinking blood, luring, and living forever, heavy manipulation and toxic behaviors, mentions of reader being alt/goth

SIDE CHARACTERS―  jungwon as your very very best friend who has an installation at the museum (you guys are attached at the hip), jay as the hot bisexual bartender at the goth club, some goth guy named balor 

!WARNINGS! ― dubious consent (due to the act of mind manipulation), hunting and playing victim, a lot of blood: blood sucking, wounds/puncturing, menstruation in a sexual light, manipulation, near-death experiences, fainting, talk of death, acts of mind control/luring 

NOTE ― you must read part one to understand the story. anyway i did not mean to go in so deep with jungwon, i just really fucking adore him please forgive me. anyway, this is briefly edited. if you see a typo, shhhhhh, i don't wanna know.

tags under cut

smut tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic] ― big meat sunghoon, biting, A LOT OF BLOOD, sucking and drinking of blood obv, pussy eating (once while reader is menstruating, and another time where she isn’t), deep penetration, rough sex, unprotected sex bc like…he’s dead so lmfao, missionary, scratching, dirty talk, body worship, praise, jungwon is involved in a bit of an erotic situation but there is not smut involving him, 

other tags [ these tags refer to both parts of the fic]― depictions of death, anti-religious language, the act of dying including intense descriptions of the feeling, mentions of pimping and human trafficking, corrupt government, dead nuns, funerals

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

“My love, let me.” 

You sit up only to be eased back onto the soft mattress. Pillows plush against your head as Sunghoon dabs away at each puncture he’s left on you. 

“You know you can’t sit up so quickly, just rest and let me.” 

You’re littered with his bites by now and you only grow more and more enamored with the feeling of it. Or, perhaps you just enjoy the fact that he’s fixated on drinking from you. Multiple times a day, until your fingers and toes are numb, until you can barely stand without dropping to the floor. 

Enamored through all of it, really. With the way he bites so gently only to suck harder and harder until his fingers grip and pierce through your skin much like his teeth do. He’ll hold you so hard through it, forcing arousal to run through you every single time he goes for that artery in your thigh. You think that’s his favorite spot to bite, if the dozens of wounds there are anything to go by. Truly, you’re enamored with him, always wanting to give him more just so he stays with you longer. 

You seem to have lost yourself in the lust of it all. The fantasy, the desire. On the brink of insanity, you know you’ve grown obsessed with what Sunghoon does to you, and it’s to the point that you don’t question yourself like you normally would. Your desire for this is too strong, far too intimidating to doubt. 

But since that night, he always leaves you with blood against his lips. Aroused, frustrated, confused. Never once letting a hand stray too far, never letting his lips trace anywhere but to your wounds or new expanse of skin that needs to be bitten. 

For days now you’ve been here. You lay here one full day since you were supposed to be back at work too, just waiting for the moment Sunghoon will do more than just drink from you. Mostly for a confirmation. It feels like you’re forcing yourself to go missing for this alone and every night you lie awake in this room waiting, wanting more from him now than you think you ever have.

The room you're in now is lonely, though adorned nearly as beautiful as the one you were in the night Sunghoon stole you away. You know the place you want to be is just down the hall, but your legs won’t carry you there no matter how much you try. He’s rendered you bed ridden and you miss it there, with his silk sheets and candle lit walls. 

Then again, maybe it’s not the room at all that you miss. Maybe it’s just Sunghoon.

You can’t help but note that when he’s on you or next to you, there’s nowhere else you’d rather be. But when you’re alone, you feel your skin crawl with such immense anxiety that you nearly want to scream out for him to come back. Several times already you have called out for him mere moments after he’s left the room. It gives you hope in knowing that each time, he does return to you even if just for a moment. 

All of it is very arousing when he comes to you, but it’s killing you inside to know that he does nothing more than feed off of you. You get nothing out of it but his presence, and perhaps he expects that to be enough. It’s driving you insane to give everything you have to him so willingly, knowing he hasn’t offered anything back to you. 

The fact that you want this, you want him, and you want to be the only blood he craves? It’s a feeling you’ve had to accept, because trying to deny it at this point would only lead you down a more destructive path. As if the one you’re on now isn’t already killing you, if not physically, emotionally. You want to be the person lying in his bed again so badly. You want to show him that you’re no longer terrified. You want to give him equal arousal and interest. 

But he doesn’t offer it. No, he simply bites. 

“I can do it.” You say to him in a frustrated sigh. “I’m not helpless, you know.” 

He’s taken aback by the way you rip the gauze from his hands, sitting up and scooting away from him when you dip it into the bowl of alcohol. Your head spins at the act, but you push through the weakness anyway, knowing he doesn’t like the distance you’re creating between him and you. 

You don’t like the distance either, but it’s helpful to know he doesn’t ignore it. 

“I’m aware.” Sunghoon narrows his eyes at the way your heart is beating for him right now, taking the gauze back from you and gripping your arm to pull you back and against him. “Why are you being difficult?” 

He cleans a wound just under your jaw as he looks at you, waiting for you to answer him. You stare back as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, not wincing at all like you previously had when he lets the alcohol burn the swollen punctures.

“Hah, so you can’t read minds?” You confirm for yourself, though you had the suspicion that he couldn’t. “You just keep doing this–” You continue, trying not to sound as if you’re nagging. “And nothing else.”

He tilts his head as he moves the gauze to another part of your neck, knowing full well what it is you want. 

“Nothing else?” He repeats in a sly question. “Is there more you want?”

You nod slightly, feeling the cold alcohol send a shiver across your skin, your head finally clearing of the dizziness just from sitting up.

“Name it.” 

Somehow, you lose the ability to ask for what you want. It feels silly to be mad that he hasn’t given you any sexual pleasure despite feeding off of you for days now. Is it insane that sex is all you want in return? Should you ask for financial compensation or something? 

“Ah.” He answers for you with an all-knowing smirk, his nostrils flaring as he inhales your scent. “You want pleasure, yes?”

“Do you not?” You ask simply, and he pulls back with the gauze to look at you dumbfounded. 

For a solid twenty seconds the two of you stare at each other before he’s dropping the gauze into the bowl and pulling you against him in full, turning your body so that your back is to his chest. His strong arms are still cold, but you feel warm enough against him like this.

“It pleases me to know you want it.” He smiles against the top of your head. “Unfortunately, I have other things to tend to.” He continues, pausing to hold you a bit closer. “I still have to feed, love, and I still need to maintain order here. I cannot just spread your legs every waking minute.” 

You’re not asking for him to fuck you every waking minute. It makes you feel as if he’s annoyed to even use such words regarding this. Still, your cheeks warm at his sweet voice. 

“As much as I’d like to.” 

Oh. Your cheeks aren’t just warm, they’re on fire at those words. You’d grasp at anything right now, despite feeling like an afterthought. You don’t like that you’re not a priority to him, even though he fucking feeds on you consistently. To the point you can’t even stand for a full minute without fucking fainting from blood loss. Still, you accept his words and try to think of the positives over the negatives. 

Unfortunately, you’ll never be satisfied with just his words and a mere ten seconds later you’re right back to questioning, doubting, and feeling upset. 

So he can feed this often, but not even slip a finger into you through it? 

Priorities. He has to feed, he said? Does he not already?! 

“Wait, Sunghoon, you do feed.” You argue. “On me.” 

He shakes his head at your ignorance of believing he’ll ever truly have enough of you. Even past death, he’ll never have enough. Which is precisely why you’re still breathing. 

“There are needs I have that you’ve yet to understand. You satiate the hunger, yes, but that is nothing more than a feeling, not a truth.” 

You try to comprehend his words but fall short. Only because that would mean–

“You’re becoming afraid again,” He comments on your heart rate. “Calm yourself, darling, the need within me is no fault of my own and I’ll continue to keep you from seeing the act take place.”

There’s silence from you as you try to calm yourself down. Of course he has to feed, but…is that not what he’s already been doing to you? Your heart isn’t racing from fear, it’s racing from–jealousy.

“So, mine isn’t enough?” You feel your heart shatter a bit when you voice it, knowing full well that for him to be full, he likely has to kill.

Why are you jealous? Well, if you’re so irresistible like he says you are, why does he hold back? Why are you still alive? Does your blood not taste as good as whoever else he’s been having at? Why does he keep you around, but no one else? Maybe they’re the ones who are irresistible, and you’re just a placeholder for if he can’t find his meal for the night. Maybe he’s just using you. 

“Hmm.” Sunghoon thinks hard at your question. “You’re feeling envious?” 

You don’t respond to him or the way he clocks your jealousy, and instead shake his grip off of you before grabbing the gauze yourself again.

He watches you take the material and dip it into the liquid, moving it down your legs and to the assault of wounds against your thigh. 

“You’re truly strange.” He licks his lips at the sight of your thighs, listening closely to the artery you have there, always so hungry for more but knowing he need not drink for the time being. After all, he’s just eaten. “Almost as unnatural as I am.” 

You have to force back a smile at the truth of his words though, softening at the way he compares you to him like the two of you fit together perfectly. The jealousy rages within you, but so does this strange adoration you have for him. 

“To think I don’t crave you? Have I not shown you already?” 

“Hmm, you might need to remind me.” You’re being playful now, trying to get what you want. Entirely thankful for the way he solves every problem you have with him in your head even if just for a moment.

You think you’ll always miss him on a deeper level than just sitting and speaking though.

“When can I leave the room?” You ask now, suddenly. “When can I come back to your room?” 

Sunghoon doesn’t fight his own smile, loving the way you stay of your own free will, even while upset with him for not giving you more than that single night of love making. 

“Not yet, love.” He mutters now, knowing that it’s not likely for you to be able to make it down the hallway without calling for his help, also knowing that he can’t give you what you want again so soon. 

“Oh.” You look at him, face falling. “Let me guess, because you have better shit to do.” 

“Still so envious.” He shakes his head with a laugh. “You’ll learn soon enough how I need you.” 

Just, not yet. 

After all, he drinks you until he has no choice but to stop. Multiple times a day, draining you until it’s near dangerous. The fact that you enjoy it drives him to do it more and more. 

You think it’s easy for him to utilize self-control around you? You think he doesn’t want to experience you in every way you can offer? With those pretty sounds you make? God, he misses the way your body hugged his cock so much. You’re out of your mind to think he’s holding out on you because he doesn’t want it. Because you're not good enough? Stupid, stupid girl. 

He needs it. He wants it. He’s fucking obsessed with what you do to him.

You’re truly not the only one trying to adjust to this situation. He has to be very careful with you, and having sex with you could very well break the resolve he’s forced into himself. A simple touch from you that feels too good could have him acting on a split second decision, drinking until you’re dead and cold, just like him. 

Essentially, he has to train himself to your scent and taste. Sure, he’s been fucking nearly every victim since his cock started working again, but it doesn’t change the fact that he’d rather it be you. In fact, the only reason he’s fucking them is to satiate the need to destroy everything that you are for his own desire of having you. 

The issue is that his drive to kill is insanely high, smelling you just down the hall makes every new victim taste better. It makes his cock fuck harder, it makes their bodies feel almost good enough for him to release. But they’re not you, and it’s rendering him unable to control himself. 

His recent victims? Oh, it ends so gruesomely. He feels overheated in the moment, drenched, fucking feral when he makes his kill. Wishing it was you, ignoring the scent of the person beneath him just to smell you from a different room. 

If he gets his hands on you when he’s in that state of mind again, you’ll be gone forever. That’s something Sunghoon wouldn’t be able to live with. Already he’s controlled himself through it once and that may very well have been the hardest thing he’s done in his life. He can’t promise that he can hold back again.

Until he can feed and fuck without feeling his instinct grab him by the throat, he cannot do more than small feedings with you. That alone is training all on its own, because every single time he feeds, he struggles not to take all of it. 

Bit by bit. Sunghoon has to take you piece by fucking piece. And your willingness to do it, entirely awake and aware, makes it all the more difficult. 

He can’t tell you this. Not yet, at least. You’d know the danger you’re in. Nor can he pretend like he will let you leave out of fear. He needs to keep this peace with you until he can truly enjoy you in a way that will ensure you’ll be alive and well after the fact.

And so, he changes the subject, grabbing you even tighter and hugging you in the way any modern boyfriend would. This. This is something he can handle.

“Are you bored of me carrying you across the room?” He asks. “Do you miss walking on your own two feet that much, if just to make it to my room?” He smiles now, making jokes with you that feel a bit dry when it hits your ears. 

“Are you implying that I’m a slut?” You laugh at his attempt to make you smile, slapping against his cold arm playfully. “That the only reason I want to leave this room is to come into yours and fuck you?” 

He shrugs from behind you, hugging tighter, wanting to be under your skin with that beating heart.

“Am I not right to assume? You little harlot.” 

Well, he got you there. 

And you laugh with him about it, living in your little fantasy world like this never has to end. Reality looms taller than Sunghoon does, unfortunately. 

He can feel your heart rate pick up when your laugh slows down. 

“But, Sunghoon, I can’t stay here for much longer like this.” You drop it on him like it’s the easiest thing in the world, and oh how he wishes you could just disappear with him. “I haven’t been home, my phone is there and I’m sure people have been calling.”

His eyes darken at your words as he pushes you from his grasp. Already you wish to leave? After complaining to him about what he doesn’t give you? Is that why you’re saying this right now? No sex means you’ll leave? 

Serves him right for not using the pull on you. He should have kept hold of your mind rather than relish in your willingness. 

“I’ve missed work already.” Your voice gets smaller as you watch him move from the bed and stand in front of you, the scent of cinnamon assaulting your nose along with his darkened and intimidating facial expression. “I– I’ll–come back. I promise.” You cower immediately.

Sunghoon shakes his head at you. 

“Did I not make myself clear?” He deepens his voice, unsure of how to handle his own internal panic. “Never have I let a commoner leave this cathedral alive and knowing the truth.” 

“Are you–threatening me?” You ask, scooting away from him and accidentally knocking over the bowl of alcohol with your foot. 

“Did you not just say you envy the others? Envy dying by my hand?” He questions you back, looming over you in an intimidating stance. Suddenly much, much taller than reality.  “Every time you’ve said you’d come back, you’ve done no such thing. Have I upset you this much?”

You frantically shake your head. 

“No, no!” You lift your hands in defense, reaching out to his towering figure. “I want to be here with you! You just said yourself that you have things to tend to, so do I! If I don’t show up at work, or at least have my phone, people will have the fucking cops out and looking for me!” 

Sunghoon softens, cinnamon air fading out within a second. He feels only slightly ashamed of his immediate outburst when all you can offer back to him is truth. Perhaps you’re the only one living in the real world, even if he’s been living in it for far, far, longer. 

You’ve pulled him into a fantasy, just like he has for you. He truly let himself forget that you’re no victim that’s meant to die. You can’t just disappear without question, and already it has been days. 

Still, you can’t just leave him. 

“I see.” He says, reaching down to grab at the hands you have clinging to his clothes in an attempt to calm himself more than you. “Shall I retrieve your device for you then?” 

You slowly nod, looking away from him and ignoring the fact that as much as you do want to be here with him, the fact that he just implied that you can never leave is a bit– um, intense. So, you don’t argue when you nod to him. If anything, to keep the peace.

“I’ll see to it that you have it in your hands by tonight. And in time, I’ll invite you back to my quarters.” Ending his sentence with a bribe to keep you here felt fitting, and he’s thankful for the way you accept it. 

You nod quicker now, entirely satisfied with his words when he steps back and away from you. 

“Now, please finish cleaning your wounds. I don’t want to taste infection in you.” 

Despite feeling better about it, wanting him still, those words hurt you. You feel insulted by the time he leaves you alone in the room. Like if you got an infection he’d simply lose interest in you, or perhaps end this love of your blood he has. 

He may even just go ahead and kill you if that were to happen.

It drives you to clean yourself twice over. Three times over. Unwilling to lose the feeling of someone biting you so gently, unwilling to die because your use to him has run out. And it feels like you clean yourself all day. To the point you’re probably making yourself more susceptible to infection rather than protecting yourself from it. 

And in this room, time doesn’t exist. There’s a window indicating where the sun is in the sky, but hours and minutes are meaningless. Only when the sun is up do you start counting, knowing that Sunghoon will only visit you during nightfall. 

You clean yourself for what you assume to be hours upon hours, all the way up until the sun falls and you hear the door creak open. You expect to see Sunghoon coming in for his routine of drinking from you, but instead, you find a pale-eyed nun rush to you with your phone and immediately leave after. 

A quick presence is gone within a moment, but you pay no mind as you look down at your phone. You’re thankful for the fact that it’s probably been on the charger all four days you’ve been gone. Considering, well, there’s no electricity this high up in the cathedral, you’ll have to save your battery as best as you can. 

So many missed calls. 

Even more missed texts. 

Dozens of emails. 

Jungwon.

In the morning after you left your apartment, he checked in with you. All throughout the day too. It wasn’t until that same night where his texts became frantic. A little, “i’m coming over, fuck you if you get mad at me for it.” followed by “are you mad at me? why won’t you respond?” 

You couldn’t help but chuckle at that.

Really though, it hurts your heart to have forgotten about him entirely during your time here. Reading through his texts, you see him fight with himself over your absence. Up until yesterday, where he texts you from the museum. 

A glaring “stopped by again today only to realize your apartment was unlocked this whole time. i’m with your boss now, we are calling the cops if you don’t respond within the next ten seconds.” 

A full day late, you respond quickly. 

You: wonnie!!! i’m sorry! I got sad and went home to see my mom. totally ignored my phone…and forgot to lock the door i guess

You: you know, hormones lol 

Immediate spam. Your phone vibrates aggressively back to back with his frantic texts. 

Wonnie: you have to be fucking JOKING

Wonnie: NOT A SINGLE WORD FROM YOU. YOU COULD HAVE CALLED WORK OR

SOMETHING FROM SOMEONE ELSE’S PHONE. I WAS AT YOUR PLACE EVERY DAY.

Wonnie: i CANNOT believe you!!!!!!!!!!!

Wonnie: your whole ass apartment was unlocked and you weren’t there! anyone could’ve walked right in!!!!! are you stupid or something? 

Wonnie: are you home now?

Wonnie: i’m so mad at you FUCK

Wonnie: i got so scared

Wonnie: im coming over

You panic. 

You: wait, i’m not home yet. I didn’t mean to stay so long, I promise ill be home soon and fill you in on everything. 

Wonnie: call your boss. 

Wonnie: ill deal with the cops, then im gonna be waiting outside of your apartment

Wonnie: don’t ever fucking do that shit again, been crying all morning

Wonnie: i hate you so much right now, im never talking to you again

Wonnie: get your stupid ass back home 

You smile fondly at his worry, but the smile is short lived as you know you probably can’t leave here. Not only from the fact that Sunghoon appears to be unwilling to let you leave but you…don’t want to.

Still, you do need to call your boss, and you make quick work of it. Sitting dissociated through the mindless scolding of your terrible lie of an excuse, and then the following call from the local police department. 

Arguably, speaking to the police was easier than knowing you’ll have to lie to Jungwon again. At least the police are aware that you’re a grown woman who can disappear if she wishes. Jungwon, on the other hand, requires a little more care and consideration. 

You’re tired by the time you lay your phone down, unable to keep your eyes open as you drift off. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Some time later, you wake to the same familiar scent of Sunghoon wafting from under your door. It doesn’t process yet in your brain that you’ve not smelled it since the night you wandered from your apartment. But now? Oh, it’s strong. 

It’s very, very strong. 

Your drowsy eyes look to the door as your legs carry you there, and out you go. Down the hallway, straight to those big doors, straight through those big doors.

The scent burns in your throat the moment you step inside, blurry eyes witnessing two figures right there on the floor. The only clear thing you can make out are his darkened narrowed eyes, only because your brain refuses to process the act taking place in front of you at first.

He looks…rabid. Hair is a mess, sticky and dripping with thick metallic liquid. 

Oh, it sounds so loud. The squelching and the smacking of skin. Your stomach drops, the pit inside of it flourishing with nothing short of rotted desire. 

Right there on the floor of his room lies a woman seemingly experiencing god. Sunghoon is moaning with his eye trained on your shocked figure. He ignores the woman’s aroused grasps against his arms to keep his eyes trained on you. And he just…smirks through it, licking his lips, rolling his eyes back only for them to fall right back to you.

The squelching rings in your ears as he moves faster, feverishly chasing a hunt he’s already got lying beneath him. Almost as if catching him in the act aroused him more than he already had been. Like he’s showing you how much more he’d prefer someone else over you. 

He moans your name inwardly again and again, as if to call you forward to him but your feet can no longer move as you process the act with each call of your name. 

He’s fucking her. He’s devouring her. 

Not you. Her. 

You can feel your heart shrivel at the act when you stumble back, a twisting pain in your chest that you feel silly over. You barely know Sunghoon, but somehow it feels like he’s given you more of himself than he has anyone else. He speaks that way to you, anyway. Always with the words of “I’ve never done this, until you.” 

That was a lie. You’re seeing it now with your own two eyes and you’re paying for believing that you, somehow, could be special. And the pain in your chest travels all throughout your body at the fact that you let this man bite you. You let him take and take until you could barely stand, until you could barely think, until you were right on the cusp of death. 

And you still want to do that for him. But now? He’s grown bored of you. Perhaps he intends to let this woman live too. Perhaps she’s silly enough to fall for a sweet vampire’s words too.

You stumble back more, forcing your legs to work with you rather than against you. It’s like your body has a mind of its own when he smells so welcoming. Cinnamon, spicy, sweet, painful cinnamon. Such a suffocating smell, easy to give in to and grow weak for. At least for you, that’s how it feels. 

When you force yourself to turn around, only to continue stumbling down the hallway, your eyes work against you now too. You knew it would happen though and it’s not something you can stop. The burn and blur of tears prickling at the corners, your throat scratchy and sore. 

You try to hold it in, feeling as if life is being suffocated out of you all the way down. Down, down, down. Past the nuns, past the beautiful and intricate interior, and straight out of the big front doors of the cathedral. 

No goodbyes. 

The breezy night air smacks you hard, forcing a sobbed breath out of you. You dry heave for a moment, squeezing your eyes shut so tight just to try and regain control of yourself and your emotions. The images behind your eyes flash back and forth. You’ve not just witnessed death, but the pleasure of death. Well, if he kills the woman, anyway. 

And you still can’t fathom it. The way you feel, the way you’re reacting, the intense desire for death if it means Sunghoon wants you that badly. Never would you have guessed that a feeling so deeply terrifying exists. But it does, you’re witnessing it overtake the deepest parts of you right now. 

Fuck, you didn’t want to leave but you did. And now here you are, freed from a grasp that you still want so badly. 

Your lungs burn and your chest hurts more than the swollen puncture wounds all over your body. Everything is burning. It’s too, too, hot inside of your skin right now and there’s nothing more you’d rather do than to crawl out of it and freeze. 

Still, you do your best to control the emotions within you. You take a short look around only to feel the head rush hit you now like it should have when you stood from your bed. Right, the blood in your body likely isn’t enough to keep you upright for long and you know you’ll likely not make it to your apartment in this state. 

But you try. Your eyes are out of focus and your legs are clumsy as you try to walk. Down the sidewalk you go, until–

“Woah, little lady.” 

You hear Balor’s voice echo in your ears. The sound of safety feeling so, so far away. 

You can’t even thank him for it because your vision blurs more at the feeling of big, leather clad arms holding you upright, and then– you’re out.

You’re not sure how much time has passed by the time you’re able to hold your eyes open again, but when you do, Jungwon is here and so is that hot bartender you forgot existed. And as you try to comprehend where you are, you learn very quickly that you’re in the back room of the club with concerned eyes focused on..not your face, your body.

“Let’s get you home.” Jungwon’s concerned voice settles in your ears, and only now do you feel his warm hands soothing you against your shoulders. 

“Or maybe a hospital?” Jay offers, also inspecting your skin and the weak state of your body as you try to sit up. 

“No, no. I’m okay, really.” You say, immediately starting to cry out. “Please, just take me home.” 

And so, home is where you go. Jay drives both you and Jungwon there with a kind voice and worried eyes. You see him make the attempt to hug you before leaving, but Jungwon is quick to stop him with a small shake of his head. 

“Let me know when you’re feeling better.” Is all Jay says when he leaves, which, you’re sure he didn’t intend to leave but of course, Jungwon. You can see that he wants to be the one here with you and he insisted to Jay that he’s got you. 

It heals your heart a little bit, but doesn’t change the fact that you’re embarrassed for not only Jungwon to be pulled into your mess, but Jay too? 

You’re humiliated. 

And by the time Jungwon has undressed and redressed you, ignoring the intense smell of alcohol against your skin for now, he’s immediately lying next to you, clinging to you really. 

 You’re aware of what he saw when he removed your clothes. You heard the breath he took in, you saw his confusion at how the clothes you had on were very much not from your closet. He’s going to ask, and you knew he would.

“You’re really cold.” He says in a cracked voice, gentle and sweet as he tries to warm you up. “You weren’t with your mom, were you?” 

You weakly shake your head. 

“You were with that guy you told me about before.” He says now, grabbing you tighter pretending he doesn’t know just how many wounds you have under your clothes. He can’t help but hold you tighter, even if it hurts you.

“What did he do to you?” 

Your throat starts to burn as you cry again. You can barely process what’s happened yourself and explaining it to someone else only feels that much harder. 

The pulsing in your head is too much, you can’t even think straight right now. 

“It was–” You try to calm down, breathing in deep but avoiding eye contact. “It was consensual, don’t worry.” 

Jungwon’s eyes narrow, staring at the deep bite marks on your neck. He’s quick to lift himself up, ripping your shirt up and off of you without so much as trying to be gentle. His panic is blatant and he’s entirely unable to hide how pissed off he is right now.

“No, it wasn't.” He dead-pans as he presents your own body to you, his voice coming out harsher than usual. “You’d be out of your fucking mind to think i believe that this was consensual.” 

He glares at the swollen marks, unsure as to what to do with himself. 

“Fuck,” He scoffs your name along with the curse, throwing his hands up. “Fucking look at them.”

You turn away from him now, wrapping your arms around yourself protectively in an attempt to not peer at what you wish you could have more of. You know what this looks like though, and you’re really trying to see things from his perspective. 

But…It’s hard after everything you’ve witnessed yourself. 

‘It was.” You say again. “I practically begged him to keep doing it.” 

Jungwon falls silent as he counts. 1, 2, 3, 13, 25, 56, 72, still more.

“I wasn’t going to come home, you know.” You sigh out at the silence of his counting. 

More silence. 

“Was gonna stay and never leave.” 

“What? Why?” He panics more at the admittance, dropping down over you and forcing your arms from yourself, trying to pretend he didn’t re-open some of your wounds by tearing your shirt off of you. 

You can hear your best friend crying at the way you hide from him, all bloodied and bruised, but you keep your eyes closed even tighter. All he can do is lend you the entire weight of his body, enveloping you in all of his warmth and care, using his entire body to shield you from even the air in your room. 

“What did he do?” Jungwon pleads for an answer with a cracked whisper. He needs context. Anything to explain the state of you right now.

“You wouldn’t understand.” 

“What did he do?” He presses again, voice only cracking more as he cries along with you. 

“It’s more so what he didn’t do.” 

Silence again. 

“What did he fucking do?” 

You take in a deep breath, sighing out against your best friend’s fluffy hair, humming at his warmth and how much you’ve missed it. 

There’s nothing you can say to make him understand, all you can do is try because hearing him like this is, arguably, just making it more painful.

“I just really liked him, and I guess he didn’t like me so much in the end.” 

Jungwon chooses to take that at face value, opting to not let you out of his sight from this moment forward if he can help it. At one point with you, he was worried about being too clingy. Truly, he was afraid he would annoy you by attaching himself. Never has he grown so close to a person so fast and never has he gained such comfort within someone else’s bubble like he does with you. The comfort is still there, but no longer does he give a single fuck about clinging too much. You clearly cling too.

If you cling enough to let a man abuse your body like that, you’ll be able to handle him clinging just as much, enough to care for you, and enough to not fucking leave your side. He’s not going anywhere, and there’s not a damn thing you can do about it.

After all, he’s not stupid, but he’s willing to act as dumb as you need him to if it means you’ll let him keep you within arms reach. In his head, there’s no way you fell into something with someone who could do this to you without reason, and it appears it’s not a question he’ll get a clear answer from you any time soon. 

It doesn’t matter if his installation will come to an end at some point. He can’t just leave you here when there’s some strange man running around biting the fuck out of people like a rabid dog. Abusing his best friend? No. He won’t have it and he doesn’t care if he has to force you to accept his protection.

He can’t do much for you, but he’s willing to at least be here with you. 

“Hey, it’s okay.” Jungwon soothes you, clinging tighter just to feel some of those reopened wounds bleed onto him. His voice is a stark reminder that there’s more to feel in your body than just pain. “I won’t let him near you again, okay?”

You nod, still crying as you cling back, trying to ignore the images in your head of Sunghoon. 

“Okay.” You lie, missing him too much already, the faint scent of cinnamon still in your nose. 

And you fall asleep like that. Warm. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You hate calling it an “escape.” You carried yourself out of that beautiful cathedral against your body begging you to stay. Still, even now with Jungwon clinging so warmly at night, you wish you had never left. 

Even the pain of seeing what Sunghoon does behind your back, the jealousy that came with it, you would have stayed if only to prove your worth to him. Being so close to death is exhilarating, and you find yourself feeling entirely empty and void of any emotion that brings joy because of it. 

This isn’t depression, nor is it simple envy. This sadness within you sinks lower than you thought possible, so deeply rooted within you that you feel death itself couldn’t even allow a safe escape. After all, if vampires are real, who's to say you won't end up as a tormented ghost forever searching for a man who can never die?

Damned if you live, damned if you die, so to say. You can’t have Sunghoon either way, you can only have him while suffering. 

And oh, how you miss the cold. You miss his cold. You miss the fear too. You miss the way he’d laugh with no breath against you and drink from your thighs like he needed more. You miss the way your wounds would pulse in pain and lend little reminders of the teeth that pierced them. Even now, they’re healing so well.

And it still hurts.

It hurts to know he said, while holding you, that he craves you. That he very much wants you but has things to tend to. The fact that he needed to tend to fucking other women while drenched in their blood? Things to tend to. 

Because to Sunghoon, real life women, breathing women, are minimized to things to tend to.

Fucking vampires. 

It’s been a week now since you left and it hasn’t gotten easier. During the week, Jungwon hasn’t so much as let you shower without the bathroom door open. You guess that’s fair. 

Still, it has only been a week. A week of everything moving fast, a week of Jungwon, a week of slow and dreadful acceptance, and a week of smelling nothing but faint, ever so slight, cinnamon. 

By now you know it’s him. Like he’s truly dug his claws into you and doesn’t intend to let you forget all that he took from you. Always that fucking smell, from the first night you met him until now. Yet he is nowhere to be seen, even when you stare at the cathedral after the sun goes down. 

No one has left. No one has gone inside. 

Part of you even found yourself worrying if he’s eaten. Hah. Funny.

Still, you’re forced to live in reality now. Nothing but healing wounds, meaningful days, and reminders that you let yourself fall as quickly and painfully as possible. 

You’re entirely dissociated, as if you’re gliding rather than walking, as if each day passes in a second rather than a twenty four hour time span, as if you’re truly empty now and not filled with the blood you thought meant so much. 

Somehow, you find comfort in the emptiness though. Jungwon fills the space as best he can too. He always accepts your rejections of going to update Jay at the club just to sit between your legs on the living room floor and try to make you laugh through silly faces riddled with concern.

You assume he’s in contact with Jay anyway, letting him know that you’re not quite dead yet. 

The days blur together now, up until two weeks pass, three weeks, four, five weeks.

Thankfully, by the fifth week, it’s gotten easier. Each day you just have to remind yourself that you can never forget Jungwon again like you did before. He’s the one who helped you through this, and to think you’d ever make him go through this again is insane. In fact, he’s the reason you finally feel good inside again. 

He’s like medicine, which is cringe and lame as fuck to say but it’s true. Internally, he’s made you feel better. Yet, right beside all those happy warm feelings lies everything else. Distress, sadness, anxiety. 

They still seep out of you too. Every night, really, after the daytime wears off and Jungwon runs out of things to distract you with.

“Why do you have to look at me like that?” Jungwon says sweetly, sprawled out on your bed in his pajamas as he watches you pace around your room. “I swear, it’s like everything I say to you goes through one ear and out the other.” 

You pause in your step, sad eyes reaching his face. 

“I already told you I’m not going home.” He repeats himself for what feels like the thousandth time to you. “I’m still getting paid, I have enough to last me if you let me stay here before finding work.”

After all, it’s not like Jungwon has anything to go back home to. Save for an annoying sister who probably wanted him to move the fuck out of her space anyway. He’s the last person on this earth to be afraid to up and move out with a near stranger.

You’re not so much a stranger to him though, and the need to be by your side far outweighs anything else right now. 

“Yeah, but, eventually.”

Never have you been one to worry about fleeting time. Never until you met that dead motherfucker. You worry about not what is happening, but what will happen. The inevitable. You no longer welcome it. 

It’s not death that brings the anxiety though, it’s just…the clock. 

With the ticking, the tocking, and the changing of seasons. Everything lasts both too long and not long enough. At this moment, the fear is Jungwon leaving at some point in your life. For any reason at all, really. 

He’s been by your side since you found your way back to him. A nuisance at times, yes, but you’re attached. To an unhealthy degree, you are fucking attached to him at the hip. He’s your only grounding force on this earth and you think he’s picking up on it. 

To the point he’s offered to drop his entire life an hour away just to stay for you. 

Yes, Jungwon recognizes how toxic and unhealthy the friendship has become, but he doesn’t know what else to do. He can’t just leave, nor does he want to. Even if he’s the one who leaves to get your mail, he’s the one who cooks, and he’s the one who holds you close at night, reminding you that time doesn’t have to mean a damn thing if you try hard enough to forget about the man who doesn’t experience it at all.

There’s no way you can get through a single day without him right now, and the thought of having to do it in the future scares you. 

You know it’s pathetic. You know you have no right to keep him in a box next to you as a comfort, you know he’s still got a life to live and romance to find. But…you hate it. 

“Eventually what?” He quirks a brow at you, having been concerned for you and the shift in your entire personality yet again tonight. You’ve changed for the worse, and it terrifies him to see you act so gone. 

“You’re gonna leave me here alone.” Your voice is small, cracking when you say it only because you hear the words ring in your ears. 

A pathetic whine, as if you’re speaking to someone else and not Jungwon. You’re not you anymore. No, you’ve become obsessed with the looping memories and feelings that took a mere four days to fall in love with. 

Addicted to emptiness but begging for Jungwon to forever be the crutch you stand on. 

You’re selfish and you have no fucking right to do this to him.

“Hey…” He rolls out of bed and steps up to you, easily putting a soothing hand against your shoulder. “Do you want me to stay?”

You nod. Knowing this same situation happens nearly every night. You panic, he soothes. You beg, he reminds you that he’s the one who offered in the first place. You ask him to stay, he confirms by asking you to let him.

And to him, he knows this is anything but a romantic partnership. You very much need someone here who is willing to play dumb but remain hyper aware. He wants to be this person for you because of his own selfish reasons too. 

It’s not all for you.

For one, he wants the girl back that he met last month. Secondly, he wants to see you learn and grow, because he knows you have a long and beautiful life ahead of you (and he better be fucking part of it.) And lastly, he’s never felt needed like this and there’s something in him that craves to be important too. 

It’s not too difficult for Jungwon to find people that’s important to him. Really, it never takes much. Perhaps someone held the door open for him, he’d probably jump in front of a bus for that person not two seconds later. But to feel just as important to someone else? 

He needs to be here with you. As toxic as it may seem to outsiders, Jungwon sees nothing wrong with being the person you need simply because you’re the person he needs too. 

“Then stop saying stupid shit.” He mopes now as he pulls you back to your bed and holds you much like he always does, trying to lighten the mood. “You’re always okay at work, but I swear the second we come home you’re falling apart.”

You freeze, falling apart instantly. 

“I wish you’d tell me what happened.” He says now, jumping into the typical routine of calming and soothing you. “I don’t know what to do when you get like this.”

You wish you would tell him too. 

But if he knew, that hope of ever seeing Sunghoon again would crumble. Already, Jungwon swears to you that he will never let this happen to you again. But you want it to, so, so badly. 

Even if you’re taking advantage of his care by letting him treat you like a child who can’t escape a tantrum, he really flipped his whole life because you chose to live in a crisis. 

You chose to do this to yourself and to Jungwon. 

Finally, you look up at him with your fingers gripping him.

“I ask so much from you.” You sniffle when you say it, immediately calming yourself and feeling like a fucking idiot for doing this. “I feel like I’m going insane.” 

He nods.

“You kind of are.” He confirms for you. “And you have to talk about it eventually, it’s just going to keep hurting if you don’t.”

He’s right. He’s always right. 

And like always, every single time you imagine how you’ll tell him, nothing in your brain can form a sentence. But you do try and by now, accustomed to your pain, you feel like something needs to be said before he grows tired of you too. 

“I don’t know why, but I wanted him to kill me so badly.” 

Saying it out loud doesn’t feel as good as you wanted it to, not with the way Jungwon’s face immediately contorts into panic.

“Wha-”

“But he wouldn’t do it.” You shake your head, refusing eye contact. “He’d do it to everyone else, but not to me.” 

“Wait, what?”

Maybe choosing to say that of all things was a mistake. After all, you did appear stumbling down the street near death already. Jungwon isn’t going to take what you’re saying lightly and you were stupid to believe otherwise.

“Have you ever smelled cinnamon?” You continue, trying to skew the conversation from his panic.

Jungwon is flipping his shit trying to make sense of your words. You wanted this guy to kill you? Well, he damn near fucking did and even now, while he’s not around, you’re practically dead already in terms of everything but breathing. And what the fuck do you mean he’d do it to everyone else?! 

Are you referring to an emotional death? Trying to make this shit sound poetic? Or did you really want to die? 

“What the fuck are you talking about?” Jungwon’s voice is stern but shaky. “Kill you how?” 

You shake your head.

“I don’t know.” You offer, knowing you’re just making it worse. “I wanted him to want me that badly.”

Jungwon drops his arms from you to pull back, dead-pan staring at you because he doesn’t know what to do or say to that. He forces himself to think of the reality of the situation. You’re just being poetic. You’re just being dramatic. 

He’s the same way when someone hurts him too, but still. Using such heavy words scares him, and he can’t just sit here and tell you it’ll be okay anymore. 

“But he doesn't.” Jungwon musters up the courage to say it, knowing you’re going to cry. “This weirdo literally tried to eat you alive, and he still doesn’t want you.” 

And you do cry again. 

“And now, you’re letting him kill you anyway?” Jungwon scoffs. “You’re begging me to stay here with you, just so I can watch you not even make an attempt to fucking get over it?” 

You know he’s telling you what you need to hear, doesn’t change the fact that you don’t want to hear it. The only thing you want to hear is Sunghoon and his lying words, telling you that Jungwon is full of shit. 

The worst part about it is that, it’s not even that you’re suicidal. You’re not. You like being alive. You’re just…you don’t know. You don’t fucking know why you wanted and still want Sunghoon to kill you.

Perhaps it’s because it would mean he needs you that much.

But he doesn’t need you, you’re not irresistible. 

And that hurts you. That man fucking slithered into your heart and made a nest there. You can’t get him out no matter how much you try. 

“He broke up with you. You were together for like, what? A few days?” Jungwon minimizes the situation unintentionally, panicking at the way a person he’s grown so close to has managed to be utterly fucking ripped apart by a singular man. “He broke up with you. That’s it. It’s time to stand up and move on, there’s better people out there that–”

“No.” You shake your head. “I broke up with him, I guess, if you can call it that.” 

Jungwon softens, tilting his head. Now he’s getting somewhere. 

“Why, then? Why did you break up with him when you didn’t want to?” Still, Jungwon is glad you chose to. Clearly you’re not as absent minded as you pretend to be. Seeing how littered your body was with pain, you knew you needed to leave, right? You weren’t really just going to let this guy wither you away, right?

“He was with someone else.” 

Jungwon shakes his head in pity. 

“What a scumbag. A total freak.” 

“But like, he needed to do it, I guess.” You try to explain without truly explaining. “I got mad and left because he was doing something he needed to do with someone that wasn’t me.” 

“He needed to cheat on you? Are you hearing yourself?” Jungwon questions, throwing his arms up. “He’s a nympho, babe, he probably manipulated the fuck out of you to make you think this way.”

And at that, you give up on talking about it. You feel too tired to continue. 

“I guess so.” You whisper out with a shrug, sniffling up the tears.

“He doesn’t deserve you. You can’t just…die for people.” Jungwon says, realizing that even he doesn’t follow his own advice. He’d probably die for you himself, but not because he craves it.

He’ll never understand why you wanted this man to “kill” you. In whatever way you meant, no one is worth owning that much of you. 

Jungwon hums though, knowing you’re tired now. He isn’t exactly being as soothing as he’d like to be right now but never has he seen a person act like this over a break up. Cheating hurts, of course, but you barely knew this guy. There’s no way there isn’t something else going on for you to say such insane fucking things. 

“You must’ve lost your damn mind to let someone do that to you.” Jungwon says against your hair, his soft voice not matching his words in the slightest. “I can’t believe you said that.”

“Me either.” You admit, feeling the insanity bubbling in your stomach and hating it. 

Still, the scent of cinnamon. 

“Do you smell it though?” You ask now, voice even weaker. 

Jungwon inhales deeply, releasing his breath with all of the frustration in his gut.

You feel it fan across your cheek warmly, minty, and you smile. 

“Cinnamon?” He asks, remembering your question from before. “Yeah, sometimes I can smell it.” 

You smile bigger now. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Another two weeks pass, only this time you are coming back to yourself. Which is strange, really. You were beginning to think you’d never feel like a person again after the first month passed. Then, within another few weeks you’re almost entirely back to yourself. 

You’re still a bit dissociated, which is likely due to the trauma of what you experienced and put yourself through but thankfully, the ticking-time spans you grew to hate forces itself now to be your new form of comfort. With each passing second, hour, day, and week, you’re slowly able to not forget, but accept and move on. 

Still, you know it’s going to fuck you up for years to come. You’ll always have the feeling of emptiness deep inside no matter how much the space shrinks. You have no choice now but to try and fill your life and time with things and people who matter to you. At least this way, you know that you matter too. 

And with this time spent away and healing, the scent has faded too. You can even go to work now without holding your breath or your eyes being forced to look at the source of the smell. In fact, you avoid taking even a glimpse of the looming cathedral. You don’t keep cinnamon in your apartment now either. You don’t take it with any of your beverages or food items, and you certainly shouldn’t be smelling it in the air anymore. 

Sometimes it’s still there though, turning your stomach in a way that’s both needy and sick. You still miss him and the feeling of ice, but you know better now. Why give up the ability to breathe without your throat burning? Why give up being a person that Jungwon actually wants to be around now? 

After all, you’ve started feeling so much better to the point that even he feels okay leaving you alone from time to time. Showers are back to being private, you can check your own mail, and a few times you were even able to go to work without him trying to force his way inside like his installation was still sitting on display. 

Which, it isn’t, by the way. Your boss had his name and face blacklisted, but still on most days he waltzed in like he owned the place. Every single time buckling the knees of your boss, every single time being allowed to stay. 

Thankfully, push came to shove and he landed himself a job there with you, his employment became official just today, actually. And as professional as the place was for you when you approached with your resume, it’s definitely not professional at all. They did pay Jungwon under the table several times just for doing shit you were supposed to be doing. 

The point is, even if Jungwon wasn’t able to make the effort to keep good on his word regarding moving into your apartment to stay beside you, he still likely would have pushed to at least work with you. 

Thankfully, he gets to do both those things. 

And despite the fact that he feels okay leaving you alone from time to time, there’s still an immense amount of anxiety about being away from you for too long. He knows that in time, it’ll pass and the two of you can live both near each other and apart, but for now? Might as well call him your husband because there’s no way in hell he’s gonna be doing his own thing without you. 

That leads to now. The same day Jungwon secured his employment, the same day you made it through without a single breakdown, the same night Jungwon needs to actually go back home to move his shit into this apartment with you.

“Come with me.” Jungwon comments, but you know it’s more of a demand. “You can meet my sister, just ignore if she makes jokes about us dating or something.”

You laugh. Genuinely, you laugh.

“Jokes? We both know you’re in love with me Jungwon. I’m just waiting for the ring at this point.” 

He laughs with a shrug, knowing he probably would marry you at this point, if just to protect you from all the people who wouldn’t care for you as much as he does. 

“Really though, come with me?” He asks again. “I’m still a little worried about leaving you here.”

“You’ll be back in the morning,” You start, trying to calm him down. You genuinely do feel okay right now. “I’ll just be sleeping the whole time, I'm tired anyway.”

Jungwon nods fondly, aware that it’s only practical that he make the move during the night hours. After all, his sister won’t be home otherwise and he does miss her. It’s true that you’ll probably just go to bed and he’ll be back before you even wake up tomorrow.

Still.

“You could just sleep in my old ro–”

“Wonnie.” You walk up to him and grab his face with both hands. “I’m fine.” 

He smiles at you, always loving the way you do your best to reassure him even through your worst breakdowns. You’re not breaking down right now though, and he can’t help but believe every word you say when you’re looking at him like this. 

“I swear to god if I come home and you so much as have a single bite mark on you, I’m burning this fucking city to the ground.” 

You roll your eyes, the memory stinging only a little bit. By now though, you’ve almost entirely forgotten how it felt in the first place. 

In fact, you’re shocked by the way you acted after leaving. So outside of yourself. Truly, you think you were going insane and Jungwon was right to confirm that for you. You’re lucky you had him here with you, because you likely would have ran right back into that fucking cathedral and–

Yeah. You would have done something dramatic. 

You didn’t though. And sure, you now know vampires exist or whatever but Sunghoon has not bothered you even once since you left. You hope he’s simply moved on so that your resolve doesn’t break. Jungwon worked so hard to make you feel better, and you worked just as hard. You can’t just feel bad that you don’t remember what Sunghoon’s fangs felt like against your skin.

If anything, you hope Sunghoon is freaked out by you leaving and knowing his secret. Maybe he thinks that if he tries to approach you again, you’ll tell everyone about what he is and what he did. Not that it would end with him in jail or anything. You’d probably end up in an asylum, actually, but still. 

And to Jungwon’s threats of arson, you simply pinch his cheek, being sure to sit your thumb right in his dimple. 

“Strictly no vampire kinks.” You smile at him, crossing both of your arms in front of yourself to create an X. 

“Good.” Jungwon nods back as he puts on his shoes and heads for the door. “Call me if you need anything, I’ll keep my volume turned up. You’ve got Jay’s number too, he can be here quickly if it’s an emergency.”

He feels content knowing that you’re about to be stuck with him for as long as he can manage. It’s just one short trip back home. A mere six or seven hours spent away while he packs the shit his sister probably “forgot” to box up for him, loading up the rented van, and then unloading it here. 

It’s just a short trip. You’ll be sleeping through it anyway. 

And when he’s gone, you feel tired. Keeping good on your promise of going to bed almost immediately. The feeling of being alone for the night is a bit uncomfortable, so sleep comes easy as a means to escape the inevitable over-thinking you’d probably do otherwise. 

No overthinking. 

It’s just a short trip. 

Jungwon will be back before you wake up. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Ah, to think it’s over. 

To think he’d leave you be? To think he wouldn’t be looming around every corner watching, waiting? If it weren’t for Jungwon, these weeks wouldn’t have passed so easily for you, that much is certain.

As if they were easy for you to get through at all. Jungwon, the very person who got you through it, was the reason he stayed away, the reason you were able to heal. 

Jungwon was the ward.

Was. 

Deep in your sleep it’s like your body knows. The same scent fills your nose just seconds after your sleep brain feels the goosebumps spread across your skin. Instantly, you wake up and back to insanity you go

You truly wake up. 

Your legs aren’t being carried by any force other than you own, and your mind is crisp and clear in your thoughts as you jump out of bed. 

Not walking, running to your apartment door. You swing open the door and don’t even look at him before slamming your entire weight against his chest and clinging like a lost child. You can feel the familiar cold fear filling your body, knowing that if he truly wanted to, he could kill you right now. 

All of the progress you made burns away within seconds. You’ve never felt so elated to ruin your own life. 

Even when he pushes you away, nothing at this moment could make you let him go. He’s here, he’s standing right there. Your fingers grip as he pushes you back in silence, stretching his garment out far beyond the bounds of which it was sewn to withstand. It rips, and still he shoves you further back from him all while stalking forward. 

Walking you back into your apartment, just to let the door slam behind him as he stands with a narrowed gaze fixated on you. 

You glance up at him only for a moment, loving the crazed look in his eye. Adoring that he must have missed you to appear so full of life like this. You can only compare his eyes now to the same eyes you saw when you ran away from him. 

As if they were burning on you. Or perhaps, for you? 

He’s dangerous, your body feels it instantly and all you can do is lean into it.

“That’s all it took for you to leave me?” Sunghoon bellows out in a spiteful voice, the sound sending pleasant shivers down your spine. “Had your blood boiling over some minx? I told you I didn’t want you witnessing it.” 

You soak in his voice like it’s your last supper, missing it so badly, adoring it even more. He speaks as if weeks haven’t passed, as if it’s a mere hour after you ran from him. You move forward to cling again, unable to think of words to say and opting to show how much you regret leaving through your actions.

Still, he pushes you away from him. A bit harder this time, to the point you almost topple over onto your back. You keep your balance only because it feels like you’re fucking floating just looking at him right now.

“I tried to pull you back to me, why did you fight it so hard?” He continues to fuss, as if he’s been thinking over and over again about all the words he wants to spit at you. Like he’s punishing you, and yet still struggling himself not to cling back. “Never has your aroma been so empty, so faint.”

You’re in shock but your body yearns for him, thankful to go back to square one. Like you’re special. Like you meant something enough to him that he’s here looking like he may give you what you’ve wanted all along. 

“Countless women. Countless men. Never you, and now you manage to hide from me?” His hand shoots to your neck, pushing you back further into your apartment. “How?” He grips dangerously tight as he continues to spew his breathless words. “You masked yourself with that– that floral boy, didn’t you?” 

You listen to his spiteful words like your favorite song, falling into each vibration of his vowels and consonants. Never has he spoken so much, and never have you heard his voice waver the way it is now. You can’t help but follow his movements with a smile on your face, swallowing through this tight grip on your throat. 

“You cannot fathom how hard it was to stop. Do you understand how much I want to fuck every last drop out of you? You should be thanking me.”

Oh, you’re so proud. So, so, fucking proud. The glee runs through you at his needy words, even if you know better. He’ll always feed on people who aren’t you, and he’ll always probably fuck them too. 

But does he show up at their house? Does he grow frustrated with them like this too? 

“Did you kill her when you were done?” You ask out through his choking hand, so confident that it makes him freeze on the spot.

He’s genuinely shocked that you’re not scared. You’re not intimidated. You don’t feel bad. No, you feel proud of being hunted. Like you take enjoyment out of his suffering, much like he does for you. 

On his part, it’s not intentional. You have to suffer to be next to him. 

Never has a person made him suffer too though. Fucking never would he have allowed it. God, he’s infatuated with you, utterly obsessed.

“Of course I killed her.” Sunghoon admits with his brow rising up, feeding into your ecstatic reaction of his death grip on you, only gripping tighter now. “Does that please you?” 

You’ve never been happier. 

And he moans out at the way you shyly nod, seemingly experiencing euphoria at his admittance of murder. Oh, if only you knew how good you smelled that night. Blood pumping for him, blood boiling in emotion for him. The woman didn’t last more than a minute after you left him. He couldn’t resist at that point. 

Seeing you, smelling you, fucking someone who he wished could have been you. 

He’s not prepared at all for this, for you. So willing, wanting what he’s trying to avoid doing to you.

That’s why he’s here though. Unprepared, but unable to resist any longer. He has pulled and pulled, every single day trying to lure you back to him against your will. He thought he was going to have to take you tonight against your wishes. 

But your eyes are sparkling for him. 

“No one’s heart has ever beat quite like yours when looking at me.” Sunghoon whispers now, falling and spiraling into this moment with you, losing his composure entirely. “So loud, each pump fucking gushes.”

“And I'll chase it every time.” He continues to ramble in a way that sounds like he’s in physical pain, like the amount of time you’ve stayed away from him genuinely hurts him. 

You still can’t respond though, your words are caught up in your throat right where his hand squeezes and you couldn’t even if you wanted to. He knows it too, and he didn’t intend to let you answer anyway because genuinely, he’s fucking losing himself. 

His hungry lips chase forward near instant after saying those words to you, not biting, just kissing. Tasting you rather than the blood that drives him. 

Because for some reason, that’s what he craves right now. 

“I beg.” He cries out against your tongue, relishing in the feeling of your life clutched in his hands, not even sure himself of what he’s begging for.

“Sunghoon,” You choke out his name with a gentle voice, pulling back from his bruising lips and throwing your arms up around his shoulders. “I bet you could smell my heart shatter too.” 

He moans at the strained words first and the out of body experience you lend to him second. His soul is always trapped within this dead skin, but you ascend him. 

Here, standing with his hands on your throat, you hold him? You say sly, mocking words? Oh, he can give you the world. He can give you anything you want. He can be whatever you want. Never has a person had this hold on him, and never could another person be able to do what you do. 

He can’t just let you go. He tried already. He’s supposed to be the one with the ability to hunt, lure, and pull. How is it that you do it to him? Your blood alone does it. The fact that all you need to do is exist within the same city and he’s ripping his bedroom walls apart wanting to get at you? He needs you. 

No. You’re not going anywhere this time. He’ll give up the taste of your sweet blood if he has to. The taste of your wet tongue is enough to satiate him by this point. The feeling of your neck beneath his hands, your pretty eyes urging him to strangle the life out of you.

He’d do it too. All you’d have to do is ask. He would do anything for you at this moment, no matter the cost. He will take anything you offer.

“Oh–” He groans first, licking his lips. “I could almost taste it.” His eyes darken more, somehow, as he leads you through the apartment. All the way until that same gaze causes your legs to buckle. He can’t help it by this point, after all, he knew coming here would end up this way.

There’s no self control when his hands release your neck, your buckled legs forcing you to fall against the floor, and he gladly topples with you. His hands immediately shoot to either side of your head, holding himself up just so he can dip down and inhale you. 

Fuck, he missed the way your skin smells more than he remembers. And trust, missing you was a daunting experience for him before he got here.

He inhales all over you, again and again. He trails his nose against both sides of your neck, up your cheek, into your hair, down to your neck again.

“So delicious.” He moans mindlessly. “Never have I missed someone so terribly.” 

“You were with someone else.” You continue your confident scolding with a scoff, only because of the way he’s losing himself on you. This is all you could ever want and reminding him of why you left feels elating. 

“My love,” He starts, speaking right up against your ear as one of his hands trails from your cheek to your waist. “My loyalty to your life is what I offered.”

Goddamn the confidence running through you smells stronger than anything he’s ever experienced. As if you didn’t already drive him to do things he never once considered. Oh, now? With you like this? He would die ten times more for you and you alone, if he could, anyway. 

“Do you not recognize that I would have drained you to death, if I didn’t want you here with me?” 

He lifts his head now, looking at you with so much adoration. 

“You’re not a simple meal, when will you understand that?”

And when you snicker at his desperate praise, he cannot fucking control the feelings within him.

“Your little floral friend is going to be devastated,” He admits with a rumbled voice, alluding to the inevitability of him coming here tonight. “You’ve begged me for this, and now I’m begging you.” 

You pause, feeling the butterflies in your stomach release in a deep breath. 

“Die for me.” Sunghoon whispers, dragging that same wandering hand straight between your legs and dipping into the wet heat he’s been missing so badly. No blood, just thick, hot, wet slick. “I beg.” 

You can barely comprehend his words through that ice cold feeling of his fingers pressing into you. He hums in the silence, looking straight into your eyes with the question. He’s very aware of the weight behind it too. 

“My love, please.” He continues, losing composure by the seconds as he feels how warm your wet walls are hugging his fingers. “Not in a thousand years have I wanted someone more than you.”

He continues pressing his fingers in, moaning himself at how good it feels, only to feel your moan fan against his cheeks in turn. It’s something that drives him only further from the self-control he fought so hard to keep. That warm breath represents the life within you that he intends to snuff out. If at all, to keep  you forever. 

“And not for a thousand years more–” He’s starting to babble, his once clear thoughts racing at being surrounded by everything that is you. “Please.” 

And his fingers only quicken with his thoughts, rendering you unable to answer even if you tried. The idea and confirmation in his head of not truly killing you drives him wild. It would be death, nonetheless, but not true death. For weeks he has suffered over the thoughts, always telling himself that he would never fate someone to a death such as his own. 

But you, oh you. The sublime blood within you pulled him harder than he believes he pulled you. Never in his thousands of years has he experienced such a thing, nor did he know such blood existed within a person. It drives him to feel for you. To adore you. To be entirely enamored with the fact that you have shattered him from within at both the thought of losing your blood, but wanting to take all of it. 

Still, he craves the taste of you to such an extent that you truly will die tonight, whether it’s against your will or not. It’s too late for him to reason with himself, feeling your walls wrapped around his fingers, seeing you act so mischievous towards his antics from before. At this point, just a blink of time compared to how long he’s lived, the decision is clearer than anything he thinks he’s ever had to choose. 

If he can’t have all of your blood, you’ll waste it on a death not nearly as beautiful as he can offer. 

If he can have all of your blood, perhaps he doesn’t have to lose you along with it. After all, it’s not just the blood at this point that makes him feel like a blood-drunk beast. No, no, no. It’s everything that is you. Your skin, the secretions of your body, the way your hands grip and the way your eyes blink. Blood-drunk, yes, but more so just drunk on you.

He can settle without the breath and without the blood if you’re willing to share meals with him for the remainder of time this earth has in the universe. 

Sunghoon’s mind is racing at the thought. Working too fast for him to focus on everything at once, but he tries. Tucking his fingers deep, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck and inhaling as deeply as he can. 

You’re feeling like you’re on top of the world in the way he falls apart on you, unable to comprehend that this is actually happening. Every word he’s said to you rings in your ears as if it were spoken in a language you can’t understand. With his fingers working you open, with his lips on your skin rather than his fangs…

You feel…different. Like he feels differently. 

And you can’t stop yourself from basking in the thought that he killed that woman. What was once jealousy that he didn’t want you enough to kill you has twisted and morphed into the thought that he kept you alive because he couldn’t stand not having you.

Every whispered word confirms it, and still you can’t comprehend fully what it is he’s trying to say. 

So, you focus and try to comprehend the feeling in your body that he’s offering instead. You have yearned for this cold within you. Missed it so badly you went insane. 

To think you’d ever truly get over him is arguably more insane than wanting him to kill you at all.

“Did you hear me?” He whispers against your ear, shoulders shifting with each plunge of his fingers, other hand clinging to your waist so tightly, almost pulling you to him. “You could be beside me,” He moves his lips across your neck, resting his lips against the moan you let out. “Forever.”

Oh, it clicks. 

And just as it clicks, he can hear your heart rate gushing the same blood he intends to take from you in full. Gushing, rushing through each vein and valve within you. Oh, he could truly devour you whole with how you’ve deprived him of this. He could leave not a trace of you left for the world to remember, but no. That would be worse than the beheadings that haunt his nightly visions. 

The sound of it rushing through you, god, it makes him feel like a mad man. He can’t help but prevent your timid answers in the midst of red hot desire. He pulls his hand out of you, spreading his palm against your healed thighs instead and spreads your legs out wide from under him. 

He’s quick to move down. No kissing, no biting, nothing like what he wants to do. He needs to satiate his desire somehow, and he doesn’t want to waste a single drop of your blood until the time comes. 

And when he pulls your sleep-shorts and panties off of you, he’s immediately licking a languid stripe up your glistening cunt. He remembers how it looked in red, the thought sending his body into overdrive at the taste of you now compared to that night. 

Still so sweet. Almost as good as the blood. Ah, it serves as a reminder that perhaps he can give up the blood after taking it from you. This alone is enough. So creamy, so slippery. 

Yes, yes. A confirmation. It’s you, not just your blood. It’s you he won’t live without. Your mind, your voice, the wet you spill, the cum you’ll let him fuck out of you. 

It’s always you. 

And he hums into it, licking into you as far as his tongue can manage. He braces both hands on your thighs just to spread them further, skewing his head to reach deeper, deeper, fucking deeper. Tasting you, smelling you, utterly obsessed with you. 

All you can do is shoot your hands down, forever waiting to feel his teeth sink into you but only feeling pleasure. So much pleasure. All of his freezing body parts just send consistent shivers up and down your spine. It’s like you can feel him under your skin when he does this, even with his hair tangled in your fingers as if you’re appreciating him for all of it. 

It’s so good. With the way he doesn’t need to breathe. He keeps his tongue in you, and even still you feel as if you don’t need your clit stimulated at all with the way he’s working his mouth so aggressively. And it’s good with the way his fingernails dig into your skin not yet enough to cause blood, unlike before. Good with the way he hums into you through it all, the same way he did when he’d feed on you.

Ah, it’s just, it’s good. It’s dreamy. All of it feels like a fantasy up until he does pull back. 

You look down in time with him looking up, those pretty eyes no longer looming and dark. Still crazed to an extent but you know they’re for you. 

“Sunghoon,” You whisper out, watching him closely with the way his eyes roll back at even hearing his name on your tongue so prettily. “Why aren’t you feeding?” 

You feel his fingernails leave more half moon shapes in your skin at the question. His eyes open in a half-lidded stare at you now, lips falling slack.

He looks so pretty, with the wet coating of his plush and pretty lips, your hands still tangled in his hair. 

He still just looks at you. He doesn’t breathe, doesn’t blink, and doesn’t answer. 

“You’re so quiet now.” You comment, feeling shy with the way he stares at you rather than your open pussy right in front of his mouth. “Say something.”

And within a single blink, his face is right up against yours, one hand still keeping your leg spread open, the other pinching your chin as he continues to stare.

“Let me have you.” 

You hear his words clearly this time, breath caught in your throat up until he kisses it out of you. He breathes you in deeply, trying to drown himself in all that is your life before what he will inevitably do. 

“Let me.” He pleads again, his eyebrows falling as if he’s in genuine pain to say it. 

Your arms reach around his neck, staring at him with so much confirmation in your eyes. You’d let him have anything he wants. Anything. 

And he groans at you, releasing your chin just to reach down to get his length out, appearing as though looking at you like this alone is enough to make him crumble to dust. He’s been aching this whole time too, since before he even left the cathedral. Borderline edging himself from both the pleasure of your body wrapped around him and the pleasure within you that would satiate his hunger just for a moment. 

He misses the feeling of you so badly. The warmth, the slide, the way you cling to him like nothing he could do would scare you. 

Just….one last time, he wants to feel warm. 

And he chases for the heat inside of you, sliding in without breaking eye contact, without waiting, without savoring it. 

It knocks the breath out of you again, forgetting just how cold it is when he settles in deep. So fucking deep. 

You wince in pain before moaning out to him, whispering his name in a drawn out sigh.

“Ah, my love,” He groans at your reaction, his hips immediately moving. “My pretty, pretty, love.”  Your walls hug him so perfectly, taking every inch with just a tiny wince.  “Will you still sound so lovely?”

You don’t understand the question, but you nod to him, wanting nothing more in this moment than to prove your worth to him. To please him. 

Such an insane woman, he thinks. Letting him take you and have you in whatever way he wishes. Whether living or dead, he truly believes every mindless nod you give to him. It’s clear, you’re just as deeply infatuated with him as he is with you.

Both of you would give and take happily, no matter what it is. 

And fuck he can feel your living pulse against him with each fast and torturous thrust, snapping his hips so quickly into you. He can’t help but fuck hard and with purpose. Slamming in and out with echoed slaps and mindless groans. 

Everything that you are could end him in an instant and all you can do is moan out for more. 

Oh, he gives it. Of course he does. He will give you anything. Everything. 

And it only becomes harder to resist when he kisses against your lips again, swallowing each moan of his name, exhaling it back out to you with the sound of your name. A mantra of two people, facing only death together and loving every heart-wrenching second of it. 

The cold within you flourishes with each sound in his throat, you squeeze around him, your legs hug against him, your arms wrap tightly against his neck as he kisses you. Your body can’t withstand the speed of his cock slamming into you for much longer without coming undone.

And he doesn’t stop, seemingly never growing tired. Up until he feels your body clench entirely around him, he clings back at you at the feeling, whispering handsome words and proud promises. 

“Already?” He grunted out first, hearing your blood rush and your muscles tense. “Ah, can hear it rushing through you, let it go, love.” 

And you do, you let it go despite wanting it to last longer. So, so much longer. 

He lends you a choked and inward groan at the way you react to his relentless thrusts, flexing his abs and pointing his cock as deeply into you as he can reach. And for the second time, Sunghoon feels the warmth of you spill over him. Prettier than the blood, your voice so, so, sexy choking out a string of curses just for his ears to adore.

“There you go.” He coos through it with his own groans, savoring every squeeze and squelch, adoring the sounds you make for him. 

And as he watches, he can’t help the feeling inside of him. Your heart is beating so fast through the pleasure only he can offer you, and he keeps doing it. Fucking you through the orgasm only to not stop after the fact either. 

It’ll be the last time he’ll ever feel heat like this on him. He can fuck any and every victim, but none will feel as good as you. Partially because you aren’t being manipulated, he has no hold on your mind right now. You’re not gripping and moaning because you’re in a daze, you’re doing it because you fucking want it.

God, having sex for the sake of sex is something he hasn’t done in a long time before you. Enjoying in the pleasure, fucking suffering through all of it. Truly, for him, if this is the last time your body will be warm, he’s going to take his goddamn time making sure you’re well aware of just how good you could have it if you let him keep you forever. Cold and dead, he’ll still love the feeling of your body.

So much that still, even with your orgasm dripping all over him, he pushes and he pushes. Thinking only of how he plans to drain you in more ways than once tonight. He can hold off for as long as he can with his own pleasure, because this alone is fucking bliss.

And he doesn’t care if he’s knocking the breath out of you, only because he knows that soon enough, you’ll never have to worry about breathing again.

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

You’re unsure as to how long Sunghoon has been lying with you like this, but you were able to get a bit of rest against him. Even with your fingers feeling like ice wrapped up in his, you feel safe and at home here. 

Not because you are at home, but because he’s here with you. 

The night outside your window tells you that you’ve not been sleeping for long, but you can barely recall coming to your bedroom at all with him. He must have carried you here and cuddled himself up against you. 

You stir in his grasp, peeking an eye up at him. 

“You’ve rested enough?” Sunghoon smiles at you with saddened eyes, his pupils still blown and hair an absolute mess.  

You shift against him, turning to face him entirely. 

As he looks at you, all he can do is remind himself that he’s never considered fating someone with this curse until finding you. With your pretty jealous words and your intense need to have him take you out of this world all together. Never has he given the chance for another person to know him so deeply and have them react with only fondness and desire. 

This is his chance, isn’t it? To find forever? 

As monstrous as he is, he does still have desire. The feeling of loneliness isn’t meant to be grown accustomed to. For him at least. All of his fellow vampires have companions, and he swore he’d never do that to another person. 

Perhaps it’s because many of the vampires he has mingled with took their companions by force. He could see the disdain in their eyes, and that’s not something he thinks he could live with. But you don’t look at him like that. You slept soundly next to a man wanting to kill you. Actively struggling not to do it with each and every breath you take. 

And oh, since the start of his curse, the need to taste that last famed drop lured him to every meal he’s feasted on up until now. Such a delicious flavor, truly the best sensation running down his throat. To have you offer that last little sip to him? Ah, fuck.

 The feeling in his stomach flutters at the thought of turning someone for the first time. Knowing that someone will be you. Knowing that you wouldn’t be a companion filled with resentment and agony at your new life. 

It’s electrifying. Like his heart could beat again at any second because you truly make him feel like he’s never experienced death at all. Despite being surrounded by it, despite experiencing it himself, despite taking lives daily for thousands of years. 

It’s amazing to him, to love someone so much he’s willing to fate them with eternal thirst, congealed blood, glitter and gold, beautiful and ugly, accidental lures before intentional ones. 

Death.

Vile, cold, damp skin. Safe light of the moon, dust in the sun. The only threat is that of life itself.

Light. Sharp pointed dogwood stakes. Beheadings. 

But…a companion.

The life he could live with you, oh the joy that runs through him is far too beautiful. The forever life. Eternity. Living through it all, far surpassing the roaches and bacteria of this earth. With you. 

So many things you’ve forced him to understand. Loneliness, despair, want, need, envy. It’s been so long since he’s entertained petty mortal feelings, but you forced them into him and out of him. The only need he’s grown accustomed to was hunger and thirst. Never love, or warmth, or want. 

Oh, forever. The two of you could starve after draining every living soul. All it takes is for him to take that last gush of blood from you. 

Without the lure. Without the manipulation. 

Never would he perform the rite without your pleasant voice telling him to. Never would he want to spend eternity with a woman so luring who would want nothing more than to be the blade slicing through the bone in his neck. 

That legendary, utterly delicious, last drop of blood that he’s tasted so many times before. It’s different this time only because the blood isn’t for him and him alone now. He has to share it, and it pains him to know that none would taste quite like yours. 

The hardest part would be controlling his instinct of swallowing it instantly, rendering you dead and unmoving for the eternity he wishes to have you. 

A new feeling. 

Anxiety. 

Your death would be slow, a cold and dreary one, but it wouldn’t be lonely. He’d make sure you feel so good through it. He wouldn’t spill a drop. You’d be clean, avoiding a gruesome death otherwise. 

And time would be against him, because upon taking that last drop, he’d barely be able to savor it before continuing the rite. A final sip that he can’t even swallow. A final sip that must be fed to you. Blood leaving your veins only to slide down into your emptied stomach through dead lips.

There, a final exhale, and then forever inhales. 

You’d look so beautiful dying next to him. He’d hold you through it. 

Is fate so dreary in a moment like that? Where is he feeling something akin to love for the first time in lifetime after lifetime? Is he selfish to need you so badly? 

“You could have it all.” He inhales the words at your drowsy face nearing sleep again. The silence you lended after his last comment kept him in his head, and now he wants out of it. 

He hugs against you so tightly, trying to keep you awake despite knowing he likely fucked you too long and too hard.  Still, he wants to encourage a life with him for you. 

“I can give it all to you.”

You’re silent at his words as you listen to him. You soak them into your sleepy head and smile.

“Sunghoo-”

“I beg of you.” He answers for you, grabbing your face tightly and landing an immediate kiss against your lips. A deep kiss, one that…oh. He’s crying. 

You feel the cold wet hit your cheeks as he kisses. He does it before you can even move your own lips against him, but you do start to kiss him back. Your brows furrow in concern at this new emotion he’s showing to you, but your handles are gentle when you caress his cheeks through it. 

“Die for me.” He whispers through the kiss, trying not to let you pull back at the words. He knows now that you heard them loud and clear.

Oh.

Why is there nothing in this world that you want more?

“It’ll only hurt for a little while.” He tries to make it sound pretty with his soothing whispers, not yet realizing that he hasn’t cried in several centuries. “You’ll come back.”

“Are you asking me to–?” You breathe out for him, once, twice, and then never finish what you were trying to ask simply because he makes himself very clear.

“You can be like me, my love.” 

Your body pulses in fear, but the adrenaline hits you in all the right spots as you break eye contact to cling instead, this time shoving your nose up and against his neck. Wanting nothing more than this dead skin, needing nothing more than a man who wants to kill you. 

But Sunghoon doesn’t want to end you, no. He wants to keep you forever. 

And forever is different with Sunghoon. It’s never ending. 

Are you even prepared to never see an end? With the man whispering so sweetly to you? Absolutely. 

Would a split second decision like this ruin your life forever? What's forever anyway? When you have many lives to ruin and many more to deem a success if you choose to go with him. 

Die. Only to live forever? 

You nod once, then you shake your head. His arms wrap around you tightly at your indecisiveness. He’s content enough just knowing you’re considering it and truly, he’s trying to be patient. Waiting and well aware that the question is likely the hardest decision you’ll ever need to make. 

“I’ll beg again and again.” He whispers, feeling your panicked lips try to calm your breathing against his neck. Still, you’re clinging to him tightly and it makes him feel…happy. “I cannot fathom a death for you that’s not this. Forever gone from me.” 

You shake your head again, but then…you nod. 

“Will it hurt?” You ask, feeling your heart rate threaten to kill you before Sunghoon even gets the chance himself. 

“Tremendously.” He chuckles at the ignorance, though even he barely remembers the pain himself these days.

 “Only for a little while, darling. I told you.” He licks his lips, anticipating the blood running through you to run through him soon. The hunger is almost overcoming him now and if you don’t agree, he very well may end up killing you regardless.

And the thought pains him. 

If there was ever a time to hold himself back, it’s now.

“Don’t die without me here with you. Now or ever.” He continues in a sweet voice, trying to control the wavering breaks his throat is trying to force out of him. 

“Can I…” You stop yourself, squeezing your eyes shut. “Can I have a minute to think?” 

“Oh course,” He smiles to hide his frustration, pulling you back by your shoulders and sitting himself up against your bed. “But, the sun rises in three hours, and that’s three hours of fighting my urge to do it without your confirmation.”

You pause, finding comfort in the fact that he’s willing to suffer through your inevitable acceptance. There’s no way you’ll end up saying no to him, only because of how badly it hurt when you walked away from him. It rotted within you for weeks, and even when you thought you were better…all he had to do was stand outside your door to have you running to be in his arms.

What’s a bad decision when you could have lifetimes to make up for it? Even if said decision is what gives you those lifetimes. He’s asking for you to stay with him. To be with him. Isn’t that what you want?

But to die…

And you only cling to him through the fear, hoping he can save you from what he’s offering. He’s the comfort and the ultimate end. 

Or, perhaps, the ultimate beginning.

You’re not sure. You only found out vampires are real like two months ago. It’s not exactly something you can comprehend so quickly, but it is something you know you want more than anything if it means you can be next to Sunghoon. 

“Will it ease your fear if I talk about what it’s like to be me?” Sunghoon offers both a reason to give you insight, as well as distract his own mind during this moment of distress.

You nod immediately, hugging yourself so tightly to his side and trying to keep your nose up and against him simply because that brings you the most comfort. Smelling the faint cinnamon, feeling him against you. 

“I’m the first of my family to reside here, but I’ve been here for thirty years. Commoners aren’t aware as I try to remain hidden save for when I need to hunt.” He starts, continuing after hearing the way your heart calms. “But, city officials know very well who I am, and where I come from.” 

You listen, trying to take in his words as truth rather than fantasy. 

“I was born in seventeen thirty eight, overseas. Every few hundred years I’ll relocate simply because it becomes boring watching the same country grow and be destroyed. I ran from many wars, have lived many lives.” 

Oh. Okay.

“I know every language. I’ve lived every life you can imagine, worked every job you can think of to rid myself of boredom.” 

“So you weren’t always pretending to be a priest?” You try to make light of the fear within you, almost, somehow, wanting to snort at his choice of current lifestyle. 

“Ah, no.” He chuckles for you, rolling his eyes at how you mock him in the face of your own death. “I was a banker before this, I despised it. Only lasted about seven years before relocating here.”

A pause, you hear him chuckle. 

“I really despise numbers.”

In the calmness of his voice, within his gentle grasp, you feel comfortable. 

“Did you come for the cathedral?” 

He nods, holding you against him even tighter.

“History is protected, whether it be land, buildings, or people. It felt fitting to be a priest if I was to stumble inside parading as a drunken man needing a place to stay.” 

“How did you become, uh, what did she call you? Master?”

“Ah,” Another scoffed chuckle at your ignorance. “Did you believe them to be alive?” 

You freeze, body stiffening at the shock. They were fucking dead?! This whole time?!

“I slept in a cathedral full of fucking vampires?!” 

“You did.” He smiles. “But they are very well aware of what’s mine.”

He loves the way your face looks when you process words. He is more aware than you think of how insane all of this must sound to you. Yet, still, he has never truly lied to you. 

“They needed an order, so I brought that order. Thus, Master.” He smiles as he motions towards himself with you still in his grasp, as if he’s playfully boasting his own intelligence over the vampire-nuns. 

You pull back to look at him, feeling a bit calmer now in the way he describes countless lives and knowledge. You can’t experience any of that with the life you have right now. In fifty to sixty years you’ll be in an urn on your mother’s fireplace. 

Why would you want that when you could be in a bed with silk sheets? Or perhaps by then you’ll be able to travel elsewhere with Sunghoon, finding new beds with even softer sheets.

And only now do you realize that Sunghoon didn’t put you in danger at all. In fact, he knew he was dangerous and forced you to live. Even when you asked him to kill you. He…

Oh. Wow.

“Now, what is it, you think, that made you so special in regards to that woman you found me with? What is it, love? What do you believe kept me from ending your life to sustain my own?” And goddamn does it feel good to finally say it. Sunghoon loves the feeling of the words coming out of his mouth, finally spilling it all to you and seeing you only react with cheeky curiosity. 

“Why is that? Can you tell me?”

You’re silent as you think of his questions, unable to answer at all.  

“No…” You breathe out, knowing he can feel the hot breath against him only because his hand squeezes your waist. 

“I suppose after how long I’ve wandered this earth, even I am left with curiosities and questions too.” He smiles when he says it, thankful to know he hasn’t yet experienced everything there is. “I’d like to know why you have this hold on me too, darling.”

“Maybe it’s because I want it?” 

“Perhaps, yes. If you didn’t I likely would have savored every ounce of you already and for that, I should be thankful.” 

He shifts now, pressing you down against your bed and hovering over you with dark and sparkling eyes. His lips immediately go to your neck with the hunger he feels. Talking isn’t enough anymore. Holding you isn’t enough. He hasn’t eaten in days, and the fact that he could hold off even until now is strange to him. 

“Unlike many, you do not seek death–” He drags his lips against your skin, relishing in it. “You exist alongside it happily, you welcome it.” He continues to talk, his teeth now retracting against your skin and leaving little swollen scratches with each drag. “Perhaps had I not chosen to be a priest during this lifetime, you’d have already said yes.” 

“A singer? A dancer? Anything you wish for, I’ll become.” He smiles when he feels the goosebumps plump up under his teeth, and it’s so, so, hard not to bite. “So, won’t you stay? “

He listens so closely to your heart and breathing, nearly moaning at the need for it. 

“Watching you wither to death by anything other than my own teeth would surely have me seekinga dogwood.” 

Ah, so the fantasy movies and novels aren’t all wrong? So strange, truly, that he lives in a cathedral of crosses made from the very wood that could kill him. 

“We could be anything, go anywhere, dine on meals you merely taste but never need.”

He nods his head against your skin, hoping you’ll nod along with him, knowing that you will. 

“You could be mine, forever.” 

You’ve accepted him already, you just haven’t said so yet. He doesn’t mind sweet talking you though, reminding you of everything he can and will provide.

And to you, every single word he mutters is pretty, and everything you could ever need or want is right here. 

“I could be yours, forever.”

“I think–” You breathe out, hands now reaching up to scratch through his hair. “there is nothing I could want more than this.”

And the moment he gets that final word of confirmation out to you, he bites. The words you mutter drive him to it. He couldn’t even kiss you in appreciation simply because his instinct takes over. He lets go. 

Finally, he can let go. 

The need to control himself is no longer here, and it feels astounding. 

The sting is deep and it rings within you so loudly that you could hear the puncture vibrate your brain. Your ears burn at the direct puncture, and already you can feel his hands bracing you through it. As if he knows he’s never bitten you so deep in your pulse point like this. 

But the intention behind it somehow feels better than anything you’ve ever experienced. This is what you were jealous of and now you can only agree with your past self. There was good reason to be jealous of feeling this from him. Except, unlike that woman, he’s holding you through it. He’s grunting against your neck and swallowing large portions of your blood as the seconds pass. Losing himself with you. Almost as if he’s dying with you.

And he drinks, and drinks, and drinks, to the point your toes are feeling the sleep overtake them, then your legs, all the way up and down your body until your fingers are too weak to keep gripping against the locks of hair on the back of his neck.

You feel his fingers soothe you through the weakness when he pulls back, keeping his promise of not wasting a single drop. There is no blood smeared on him, only a trace of it on his inner lips as he watches your weakened expressions. 

He isn’t intentionally draining you so quickly, but…fuck. The blood. That glorious scent and taste was already too much to bear, but now? Knowing he gets all of it save for the best and final sip? He genuinely can’t help it. Controlling himself now after how long he’s held back? 

Darling, you asked for this. 

And his body reacts in aroused euphoria. Already he feels an orgasm bubble up just witnessing you die for him. Even then, he barely feels the heightened pleasure because the mind, dead or not, simply cannot comprehend the pure potent pleasure he’s experiencing.

He spills out all over himself, while you spill out for him. Your life, your very being. 

How can he not be terribly, horrifyingly, utterly stupendously in love with you? 

“My love, the light in your eyes will come back soon.” He smiles as he watches what happens to you through this, and then throws his head back in manic pleasure with a deep and animalistic moan. Arguably, even his eyes hold more life than yours right now. 

So, so beautiful. 

You’re too weak to speak, but you shake your head. Nothing is a pain to lose, nothing except him. 

And you find comfort in the way he sinks his teeth right back into those puncture marks. Sucking more and more out of you with a content smile on his face. He doesn’t think he could ever feel happier, knowing you’re giving him everything, and he wants nothing more than to return the favor to you.

Oh, how he wishes it were you sucking the life out of his veins. You’d be so gentle, you’d look so pretty losing your mind like he is right now. 

You continue to feel your body grow numb, up to the point that your heart rate slows at the loss of blood. To the point you can tell he’s sucking harder and harder just to get more. You feel a weight shift inside of your body, it writhes and chokes every inch of your innards. 

Shrivelling, spiraling, cramping. 

If you could curl in on yourself right now, you would, but you’re too weak even for that. You can’t even twitch a finger against Sunghoon at this moment as you feel everything within you dehydrate and search for life. 

It hurts. 

Badly. So badly that at this moment, you can’t remember a single thing that has ever felt good. In fact, everything is painful. Life is painful and horrifyingly full of things that will hurt you. But–Sunghoon is here. That much, you still recognize. Even through the pain, and even through the twisting inside of you, he remains constant. He’s soothing you through it well past the comprehension of your dying brain. 

You can’t shiver at the loss of warmth, but you do try to take a breath. Working your weak body to near exhaustion just at the act of trying to expand your lungs. And oh, you can’t even open your eyes at the way the last breath doesn’t come. You must have lost it already. 

And then, darkness. 

Nothing. 

And it feels like this for an eternity. Nothing to see, nothing to feel, nothing to fear or love. 

Absolutely fucking nothing. And to think humanity has built governments off promised afterlifes? To think anything ever mattered in the first place? The emptiness soothes and relieves your still working soul, wisping in the darkness for eternities more it seems. 

To the point names and faces leave you, and all you can think, feel, or hear is that of unfilled space and pure, deafening, silence. You cannot feel content, or peace, or happiness here. You just feel nothing. And it truly feels good to be nothing. 

Until there's warmth. You feel it somewhere hugging you, or perhaps inside of you? Do you even have a body to hold warmth now within this vast void of darkness? Why do you hear…?

Feelings come back to you tenfold. Seemingly experiencing everything you’ve ever felt and lived through all at once. That deafening silence becomes louder, louder, louder, until– it flourishes in the pit of your belly.

So much chaos within you. Swirling and bubbling in such a way that it fucking blooms in this darkness. You feel like you’re burning, freezing, dying, living, fucking drowning all at once. 

That flourish forces the nothingness out of you. As comfortable as this place is, there is nothing and you want something. You need something. You crave…something.

A little dribble running down your throat leaving a trail of warm, blooming heat. As if you just swallowed a sun-ray itself. Only now can you feel your body again enough to know where the heat is coming from. It blossoms within you, increasing each sense within your body tenfold. 

It doesn’t hurt. 

Only now do you recognize that it’s silent again, as if you were slammed into a wall by the force of the god you now know does not exist. You feel yourself restrict under skin, you feel cold, you feel…heavy. 

And the silence is still too loud to be so restricted. You miss the sounds of what you must have unintentionally listened to every waking moment of your life. The only true soundtrack of a living, loving, and heat-radiating being. 

No heart-beat. No whirring of blood. No rumbling in your stomach. Nothing.

And yet still, it doesn’t hurt. 

Just a bouquet in the pits in your belly. Your precious life, all summed up in that single diluted sip of blood. 

And somehow, someway, you regain your strength faster than it took for you to lose it. You open your eyes on instinct and the world is glowing. Sunghoon is glowing. As lifeless as you are, and as empty as your brain is at this moment, you reach out to him immediately.

But he has yet to let go of you since all of this started. He stayed. He held you, just like he said he would. 

“Did it hurt badly?” Sunghoon calls out to you, helping your mind awaken again. 

He barely remembers the pain he went through when it happened to him. Truly, pain is so temporary, so meaningless to indulge but, the curiosity still sits with him. 

After watching you for upwards of two hours to both die and come back to life, he can’t help but wonder if it was anything like what he experienced. 

Even with that curiosity though, seeing you open your eyes for the first time in your new life fills Sunghoon with overwhelming glee. To the point he feels like a child, wanting to ask so many questions, thoughts shifting from this, to that, up until all his thoughts run together and all he can do is squeeze you in his grasp. 

He’d have pulled down the stars if he could just so it could be your first view of the afterlife with him. But alas, he couldn’t step away even for a moment. He needed to be with you, not just for your sake, but his own. 

You’re cold now, but oh, the blood within him could satiate him for hundreds of years. It’s gone from you now, and he fears not missing it. Not when you’re here. Not when you chose to be here with him. 

You weakly nod to him, amazed at being able to do it again. Already the pain you’d previously felt feels like a long lost memory as you stare back at him. 

“I’m sorry.” He smiles through the apology, unable to pretend he means the words at all. “I didn’t intend to drain you so quickly. My poor love, you must have felt miserable.” 

You nod again, feeling him so tightly against you.

Only just realizing that he’s holding you. Your body, it’s coming back to you. You can feel sensations again. 

“I feel–” Your voice cracks with a dry throat and you inhale.

On instinct, you try to exhale but your throat just gets drier and drier. 

“I–”

Sunghoon coos, shushing you with a gentle kiss. Lending you his own saliva because if there’s one thing he can remember, it’s the act of learning how to…not breathe. 

“Slowly, love, slowly.” He smiles when he pulls back, watching you swallow around his gift and instantly droop your eyes again. 

“You’ve only just died and you have all the time in this world to speak, no need to do it now.” 

And he’s right. You’re spinning, yet balanced. Fuzzy yet smooth. You are everything and nothing at this moment with your glowing after-death aroma. Sunghoon smiles, cradling the back of your head. 

Finally, he’s gotten to drink you in full. No true death, and he feels more elated than he ever expected. Almost lulled to sleep at the scent of you disappearing. Never will he taste your blood again, but you. He has you now. Knowing you had a taste at all is enough. Knowing that he has broken for you enough to beg you.

To beg you to die for him just to be with him on a level deeper than thirst. 

Never once has he wanted someone like this.

And never once had he expected you to agree with him. 

The moment is sweet with him, and still you’ve yet to comprehend the truth reality of your life now. You know at least, that it could take longer than you’d have had previously to figure it out. You did this to be with someone, and that someone is right here next to you. Smiling, clinging, seemingly ecstatic to know he’s no longer alone. 

A forever companion, truly this time. 

And as sweet as the moment is, time still moves even after becoming ageless. 

“The sun will rise soon,” Sunghoon hums at your reluctant gaze at the window. “Shall we go home?”

You would nod. Truly, you would, if it weren’t for that suffocating scent entering your nose. 

Roses? No, tulips?

Lavender? 

Your belly pangs, a dry and itchy feeling overtaking your entire being. To the point that Sunghoon clinging to you can’t even calm the itch. The world stops at the scent, so strong and sweet. 

Sunghoon smells it too though, and he knows. He’s experienced it time and time again, though he’s long since learned how to control it, clearly. He purses his lips in frustration. You’ve only just come back, and he’d very much like to get you home with him so that you can learn and grow accustomed to this life. You need to realize that you haven’t even experienced the hardest part yet. 

Disappearing. 

After all, his intention was to hunt for you, teach you, comfort you. There’s so much to do now that the deed is done, and he hadn’t prepared for interruptions such as this.

Unfortunately, he knows very well the thirst. You won’t be able to control it, especially considering he knows this scent too. He has to force himself to try and lend you alluring words, but they seem to go through one ear and out the other. 

Your brain is empty at the scent. 

“Ah, what a turn of events.” He tics his tongue with a smile. “I smell him too.”

Your eyes do not reach Sunghoon at all, but he understands. Even with the jealousy in his gut. 

A key clicking into a lock, a turn of the knob. The sound is amplified in your ears along with the scent. 

“Wake up and help me unload all this shit!” 

Oh, what a shame. 

You really loved Jungwon. 

“Can you smell it flowing through him?” Sunghoon smiles at the light in your eye now, endeared by the way scent ignites you entirely. As envious of Jungwon as he is to hold certain parts of you when he couldn’t do it himself, seeing the way you react arouses him beyond belief. 

Your first feeling of thirst. 

“Shall I greet him?” 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

Jungwon peers at the stoic figure that appeared from your bedroom. His first thought is that he’s going to kick your fucking ass because number one, this better not be who he thinks it is. And number two–

There is no number two. A mere three seconds after stepping into his new home with you, his mind goes fuzzy. Thinking only of you, of needing to see you, of needing to make sure you’re okay. 

He wants to know if you slept well, and if you were able to have any sweet dreams without him here. 

“Jungwon, I take it?” Sunghoon lends him a lively smile, impressed by the pull you unintentionally lay on the guy. 

“Ah, yeah.” Jungwon weakly scratches the back of his neck before feeling his body move on its own. “Where is she? I need to see her.” 

It’s a pity, really, but Sunghoon has seen it time and time again with his own victims. A weak mind, one that is easily broken and even easier to lure. It’s kind of cute really, seeing how breathing humans cling to what balances them. 

He almost feels bad for taking you from Jungwon, but he doesn't only because he hates that he has to see you drink from someone you were attached to. He knows it’ll hurt you when you realize, and he no longer wants to see you hurt after witnessing your death.

As beautiful as it was. 

Jungwon truly chases you, stepping through the apartment and dropping everything in his hands without care. He heads straight to your room, swallowed in a somber smile and a welcome scent. One that he doesn’t know is death.

“Wonnie.” You rasp sweetly. “Come here.” 

There’s no reluctance within him, even upon hearing Sunghoon close the door behind him and lock it. Even when the man looms at the door, watching, narrowing his eyes at you in jealousy. 

You ignore it as you grow enamored with Jungwon at this moment. Is this what his life smells like? So pretty, it truly fits him. 

And it drowns out all of your thoughts. The flowers, like a fresh spring day with no worry. You think it’s your favorite smell in the world as you inhale him with each step he takes toward you. 

For Jungwon, even upon feeling you grip his shirt, pulling him closer than he’s ever been to you without the excuse of comfort, he pays no mind. He missed this bubble he shared with you, the single night with his sister almost felt like agony to be away from you.

After all, the love he holds for you is truly deeper than romance. There is no need for any physicality between the two of you, yet…he welcomes it at this moment. In fact, he’s entirely aroused, stiffening in his pants at the sheer blissful anxiety your uncanny smile and shining eyes lend to him. 

Did you truly miss him so much? 

“You look so pretty…” He trails off, closing his eyes as he feels you caress his warm cheeks. “Your hands are so cold, let me—ah” 

You’ve never felt an instinct quite like this. You could truly hear it, the pulse of his heart. You can still smell his sweet scent, and you truly weren’t in control of your own body when you gripped him, lifted, and sank your teeth right against his pulse point. 

Jungwon moans at the bite, drifting off entirely at first contact. 

All while Sunghoon continues to loom. Watching with weight in his pants. The way you bite so messily, spilling blood and wasting it as it trickles down Jungwon’s throat. The small sounds your mouth makes as you suck has him throbbing non-stop, to the point he almost needs to hold onto something just to keep from jumping on you, just to keep from tasting Jungwon himself.

And, oh, his pretty love, you have so much to adapt to. 

It appears he does as well. 

As he watches the furrow of your brows at the first taste falling to that of relief and pleasure as you drink, and you drink, and you drink, until–

Sunghoon smirks now, quirking his brow at how you stop yourself before he needs to step in and separate the two of you. In all honesty, he was unsure if he’d be able to give in and stop you either. After all, killing Jungwon now would prove easier than letting him live.

The fact that you stopped yourself though. Perhaps your mind grew more stubborn and strong-willed through death. He nearly cannot believe that you aren’t draining the man dry right now. 

And you aren’t even sure yourself why you do. The feeling in your gut is full and satiated, but the grip Jungwon has on you only grows more and more limp. You love the way he clings as much as the taste, and even through his slumber, he clinged so tight. 

Not so much now though, and that scared you. So, you let go. 

If only because truly, you do love Jungwon. Enough to no longer pull him into your messes despite forcing him to become one at this moment. What’s even more scary is though, even with all of the endearment you held towards him in life, the feeling is only amplified now. These new bitter and floral scents pulsing through him makes you want to protect him from any leech wanting to drink it out of him.

Even if you’re the leech. 

Ah, he tasted like honey suckle, and it dropped down your throat like honey too. Warm, gentle, pretty. Just like him. 

And you have to continue to keep yourself from sinking your teeth into him. Your stomach is greedy, wanting more, but too in love with the life he has and willingly wanted to share with you as a best friend and forever comfort. 

Forever for Jungwon is nothing but a moment to you now, but it’s one you hope he enjoys, at least. 

And when you hold him against you, so weak and sound asleep, you look at Sunghoon. The tears fall so, so, cold against your cheeks. The heightened senses within you become overwhelming with the horrifying silence and intense smell of floral blood wafting through your nose. 

“Much like you, he won’t remember. You lured him deeply, love, did you know that? He was asleep from the moment he saw you.” 

You pause, nodding as the tears continue to fall. 

“Brilliant.” He compliments now, moving to hold you as you cling to Jungwon. 

“Sunghoon, did my blood taste like that?” 

Sunghoon kisses you once, sucking Jungwon’s blood from your tongue. 

“Ah,” He chokes. “Absolutely not.”

You pause at his scrunched nose. 

“You were much sweeter.” He whispers sweetly, fondly, tilting his head to kiss against you again, licking the mess of Jungwon’s blood from your lips, chin, and neck. Still, he chokes it down. “I’ll miss it.”

“What did it taste like?” Your weak and dry voice falters repeatedly, but you need to speak right now.

“You tell me.” 

You only slightly remember the flavor as you were brought back. Warm, blooming, spicy, sickeningly sweet. 

“I have never tasted anything compared to it…” 

“Exactly.” Sunghoon smiles, inhaling deeply and lending no breath against your skin when he scrapes his teeth there. “Like the sun.” He hums, nosing down to your neck and inhaling again, arms only slightly trying to push Jungwon out of your grasp. “Like the one thing that could get me killed.” 

You cling tightly to your best friend though, not wanting any more harm to come to him. Still, you stare at Sunghoon’s sweet words, finding yourself smiling at all that is to be gained rather than lost. 

Your life. The light outside, the light in your eyes, the warmth. 

Not Jungwon though. 

“You don’t intend to leave him be, no?” Sunghoon furrows a brow at how your face rises for him, but falls instantly at inhaling Jungwon’s blood. 

You frantically shake your head. 

“We’ll figure something out, love.” He says now, looking away from you and doing his best to ignore the envy that fills him time and time again when this floral-boy is near. 

He told you he’d do anything for you, give anything to you. 

If that includes Jungwon….

Ah, always so fucking stubborn. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

The sun rises and falls. 

Repeatedly, for months. 

Jungwon wakes himself with the warm sun hitting his face, the bed just as warm from his own body heat. He loves this space, and adores the way that even if it’s only him, he never feels lonely with that pretty smell in the air. 

Every morning when he wakes up, and every night before he goes to bed.

The shock of learning the inevitable still hurts him from time to time, but still, he smiles with that dimple you threatened you’d steal right off his face if he chose not to show it to you. 

His hand reaches to his neck, the single wound you gave him and apologized profusely for after. It’s healed well.

And when his phone vibrates in the middle of the day, he wonders why you’re awake. 

You: wonnie

Wonnie: wat

You: come over

Wonnie: was wondering why you were trying so hard. nearly suffocated this morning. 

You: and you were fighting it? asshole

Wonnie: be over in a few, stinky

And as strange as it is, Sunghoon doesn’t mind that you wouldn’t let Jungwon go. After several conversations needing reassurance that you’re not trying to spend your forever elsewhere, anyway.

Really, to think you’d die for him but want someone else? Sunghoon truly is insane, but so are you. 

And it works. 

Because Jungwon loves insanity, even if he hates Sunghoon with a passion. Even if he can only see you with Sunghoon in the room too. Even if you’re dead. 

You’re still his best friend, and he doesn’t mind helping you disappear as long as it’s not from him. 

・・・・・・・・・・・・・・

not me accidentally making this a sunghoon ft.jungwon fic. 

Fanart by @a-the-na 🖤🖤🖤🖤

[merakiui]

dayum that Red Riding Hood reply was so good Mera like fr got me hungry for wolf Jade and hunter Floyd yummyyy but what if the roles were opposite like Jade being the Hunter and Floyd the Big Bad Wolf? mmmm crumbs of malicious Furoido

BIG, BAD WOLF FLOYD………. 😵‍💫 malicious wolf who was perhaps moments from slaughtering your poor grandmother, but you managed to arrive just in time. Whacking him over the head with your basket or maybe you’ve even got a weapon and are ready to use it to drive this intruder off!! Floyd who immediately loses interest in eating your grandmother and sets his sights on you, the cute human who’s now triggered his prey drive after you’ve dared him to come and get you. Not a very smart move, Little Red. >:) no one can outrun a wolf, especially one that’s starving.

Floyd’s impressed you even managed to get as far as you did; you even managed to catch his cheek with your blade, if only because he got too close when he tackled you to the ground. But now you’re without your weapon, wrists pinned above your head, and even though you’re struggling beneath him, kicking out desperately, it doesn’t deter the wolf. >_< squeezing your eyes shut when he leans in, bracing yourself for the tear of his teeth as he rips into you with reckless abandon. Poor Little Red, shaking and whimpering in fear,,, you’ve even turned your head away, baring your neck for him. Did defeat turn you all mushy and hopeless already? That’s boring. :/

You feel his warm breath ghosting over your skin, prickling it with unease, but the teeth and the pain never come. Instead, that wicked grin of his shifts and, rather than chewing you out like a squeak toy, he presses a soft kiss to your neck. Your eyes flick open, dragging over his face to assess his intentions. You’d do anything to avoid death and escape, so if this wolf wants what you think he does…

Dub-con where you hope to satisfy the wolf (and maybe tire him out enough) so that you can escape. Filthy, sloppy sex on the forest floor, getting all tacky and gross in the grass. >:) maybe he’s even a little sweet, cradling your cheek in a big hand or moving your arms so that you can cling to him and mark his back up with scratches. <3 allowing him to drill into you until you’re sobbing from the pleasure, struggling with your words in between shivery breaths. This wolf who is so enamored with all of you… how soft you are when you’re laid mostly bare on your pretty, red cloak, how sweet you taste on his tongue, how fragile you are when he hits that spot deep inside you that has you crying and begging him to slow down or else he’ll break you.

You’re waiting for your moment to run, but is that ever going to come? You honestly can’t think he’s that stupid, right? Floyd sees through you and suddenly the missionary sex isn’t so soft anymore. Flipping you over so he can fuck into you doggy style, forcing you onto your hands as his brutal pace leaves you knock-kneed and scrabbling for purchase amongst the wildflowers and berry bushes. Dub-con shifts into non-con when you realize he isn’t going to give you that chance, not when his knot is insistently pressing against your pussy so forcefully. You beg him to stop because surely that will never fit, but you choke on the rest of that plea when it finally pops inside you and he muffles his grunt in your shoulder, his razored teeth having sunk into the soft flesh……. orz orz it’s the warm trail of blood trickling down your arm that keeps you grounded, and if it weren’t for his iron grip on your hips, claws digging into your skin and leaving marks, you’d have collapsed by now. Filled to the brim with cum, connected for far too long, and you think this might be worse than being eaten.

Once his knot has gone down and he slides out, he’ll carry you back to his den and keep you safe from that pesky hunter who likes to get in the way of his work. :D then you can live happily ever after together! You, Floyd, and a litter of pups!!!! >w<

Of course, not if hunter Jade has anything to say about it. :) he mounts all of his kills, viciously proud, and his aim is immaculate. Once he has you in his sights, you’re as good as dead. Only maybe this job is a little more complicated because who knew his brother was the one who knocked up the village sweetheart he’s been eyeing!!! The beast everyone wants him to bring down. Unfortunately, Floyd isn’t much of a monster. The real monster lies in wait in the middle of the village, inside a quaint cottage, always wearing that kind smile of his. :)

[woongisi]

Bite Me, Bite You // Park Sunghoon

vers!vampire!Park Sunghoon (sub heavy) x vers!fem!Reader // SMUT

WC// 5.4k

Synopsis// Your hot neighbor in your new town is a vampire. You each have a lot to learn, about both each other and the world around you.

Warnings// smut obviously, bloodplay, blood drinking, biting, usage of "good boy" and "ma'am", intoxication (outside of intercourse), piv intercourse with no protection (pls wrap it before you tap it y'all)

Authors Note// It's MY vampire mythos and i can do what I want with it!!! No but fr I hope this is decent. I'm worried the quality went down as i wrote.... anyways, I am back.

------------

About 3 years ago, you decided to move to the historic district of a nearby city. You lived in a big city before that and eventually, the noise and danger of living somewhere so urban got to you. The historic district was quiet and charming—every building comprised of brick and mortar, boasting an ornate gothic revival style architecture. Every time you stepped outside you felt like you'd been transported back in time, walking down the cobblestone roads that had tripped you time and time again. You never did get sick of it. How could you? The narrow streets and wafting scents of fresh pastries always soothed you. You were never a morning person, and yet you found yourself waking up early many days just so you could watch the golden sunlight wash over the towering roof and steeple of the church just down the way. On some autumn mornings, you were lucky enough to catch the borderline unearthly fog that hung heavy on the town.

At some point over the years, you came to accept that your neighbor, Sunghoon, was a vampire. The day you moved in he had helped you move your furniture in, bracing it high so that he wouldn't mar the original hardwood floors of your home. You had a suspicion he'd been yelled at one too many times for doing exactly that. When all was said and done you invited him to sit on the porch with you for a while. You asked him how long he'd lived in these parts to which he claimed it was longer than you can imagine. You made a quick quip about how it couldn't possibly be that long, he looked far too young. He only chuckled a bit in response, flashing a toothy smile. A toothy smile that possessed some exceptionally sharp canine teeth.

The night you found out Sunghoon was an honest-to-god vampire, you'd stayed out far too late. You were a bit too drunk, and he was your designated guardian on such nights. He never drank alcohol, and now that you'd thought about it, you'd never seen him drink anything unless it was in an opaque water bottle containing what he claimed was a secret. Stumbling through your doorway, you threw yourself on the couch with a groan. Sunghoon followed shortly after, taking a detour to the fridge to get you a cold glass of water. He helped you sit up, handing you the water. Noticing that you were really struggling with getting it to your mouth, Sunghoon had taken your chin between his pointer and thumb, using his other hand to take your own and bring the glass to your lips.

“Slow.” He murmured. “If you keep trying to chug it like that, you'll make yourself nauseous.”

“Are you flirting with me!?” You slurred, alluding to the somewhat sensual grasp he had on you.

“Do you want me to be?” He cocked his head to the side with a smirk.

You thought about it for a moment but lost your train of thought before you could reply. You gestured for Sunghoon to take the water away from you.

“Hey! I know what you are.” You whisper-yelled. “You're a vampire. I know it!”

“Are we in Twilight or something?” His face twisted in faux disgust. Ah, here goes nothing. “You aren't wrong though.”

You shouted in triumph, smacking his shoulder playfully. That was until your face dropped. A… vampire…? You spent the next hour interrogating him.

“Is that why you never eat?”

“Mhm.”

“Ok, well… why can I see your reflection?”

“Modern mirrors aren't backed with silver anymore.”

“Then why have we been going out in the sun for the last year!?”

“That whole thing is just a myth. We’re more sensitive to the sun, but it won't kill us.”

“Hm.”

You made Sunghoon promise he wouldn't try to feed on you, which he complied easily. He asserted that you could discuss this whole thing in the morning when you weren't so wasted. You nodded wearily, yawning dramatically. With that, he helped you to your bed, telling you to keep laying on your side lest you throw up and drown yourself. In no more than a couple of minutes from the moment your head hit the pillow, your consciousness faded and lulled you to sleep.

Come the present day, you found yourself curled up in your bed with Sunghoon at your side. It was supposed to simply be platonic, watching movies and hanging out, but that line has become blurred at some point. You hadn't kissed or anything of that sort, but things had certainly progressed ambiguously. Neither of you cared much to work out what you were to each other. You only knew you loved the feeling of his cold skin against yours, which was comparatively blazing. You did seem to get suspiciously warmer when he was around.

At some point or another, he'd practically moved in with you. You weren't sure when only that he didn't seem to go home anymore. You didn't mind. Oftentimes he slept on your couch, or more like rested. He didn't actually need to sleep. Sometimes, though, you let him in your bed. More often than not you'd wake up to the smell of breakfast wafting through the house, or the scent of fresh puff pastries from down the road. You figured Sunghoon’s unexpected cooking prowess came from his many many years of life experience. It was nice to spend your days and nights with him.

Lately, you had taken note of how Sunghoon’s eyes seemed to linger on you more than usual. Frankly, it made you nervous. Even if you ignored the whole vampire situation. Sunghoon was undeniably attractive, and he was right next to you. Even when you weren't looking at him, you could sense him boring a hole into the side of your head. His eyes were always dark. The deep brown color of his irises bordered on black, glossy and reflecting everything he looked at. You tried to avoid maintaining eye contact with him most of the time, knowing you could get lost in his intoxicating gaze. You'd studied the fine sculpt of his face many times before. His nose was rather large, with a remarkably straight bridge that never failed to impress you. The tip of it pointed upward so very slightly, you wouldn't have noticed it if he were simply some stranger passing you on the street. Your favorite thing about him had to be his moles. He had 6 that you knew of. The most prominent ones rested under his right eye and on the leftmost side of the bridge of his nose. One was above his left nostril, another by his lip, and the faintest of all was just above the left portion of his upper lip. The only one you know of that wasn't on his face was about halfway down his neck.

Truthfully, you wanted nothing more than to pounce on him. Months of flirty remarks and fleeting touches were beginning to build up. This particular day you were both making subtle moves. His hand inching ever so slightly toward your inner thigh. Your hand gradually sliding up his chest. You couldn't forget to acknowledge the silky smooth muttering in your ear. That was it. You couldn't wait any longer.

“Sunghoon…” You took your bottom lip between your teeth.

Sunghoon turned his head to look at you, though he was blatantly staring at your lips.

“If you say no, pretend this didn't happen. Can… Can I kiss you?”

His thick brows turned upward in surprise. The shock soon morphed into a devious grin.

“I thought you'd never ask. You may.”

Without so much as another word, you shifted to straddle his hips, ensuring you had him stuck in place against the headboard. Your eyes flitted between Sunghoon’s dark eyes and plush lips briefly before you cupped the side of his face and took his lips into your own. The kiss was hungry, desperate from months of tension. Sunghoon’s hands came to rest on your hips with a harsh grip.

His hands roamed the shape of your body at his discretion, eagerly as if he was trying to memorize every part of you. Sunghoon peppered kisses from your forehead down to your ankles which landed him on the floor, kneeling. He grasped your wrist, turning it over so he could kiss your pulse point.

“I know when you first found out about me, you made me promise not to feed… Of course, you can say no but please, please can I bite you?”

Your lips pursed in a small frown but admittedly the idea didn't scare you so badly as it once did.

“It doesn't hurt that badly. I swear. It… yeah. It doesn't hurt that badly.”

His eyes had begun to well up with tears. He was desperate, truly. It was hard for you to process how badly he seemed to want you. Ever since you met him he'd wondered about the taste of your warm blood.

“Please? Just your wrist?” Sunghoon whimpered. “Just need to taste you.”

You hesitated for a minute, staring into his wet pleading eyes. Fuck it.

“Fine. But if I tell you to stop then you better.”

“I will, I promise. You trust me, don't you?”

You nodded, letting Sunghoon grasp your hand. He remained on the floor with his legs folded neatly underneath him. Soft, slow kisses peppered the inner side of your wrist. Sunghoon whispered a thank-you against your skin before opening his mouth wide and sinking his fangs into your wrist, right into a prominent vein.

“Ow, shit!” You winced and resisted your instinct to pull your arm out of his grasp. The pain was sharp, nearing an icy cold, but it didn't last long before a red-hot warmth began to spread outward, originating from the point of his bite.

Sunghoon looked undeniably hot like this. Eyes squinted to the point of almost being closed. Upon releasing his teeth from you, he whispered small words of gratitude between laps of the flowing blood. This was quite interesting, you thought, given you spent your life thinking vampires would suck blood up through their teeth like straws. This was… sexier. The way he had to nip and suck at your already bruising skin in order to drink.

“Sunghoon,” You called softly. “Enough.”

He swiveled his head to look up at you, ceasing his ministrations in an instant and pressing firmly on your puncture wounds with his thumb to stop the bleeding. The way he looked at you like you were the most divine meal known to humanity made your stomach twist, especially with the way your blood stained his lips and dribbled down the form of his chin. Motioning to get off his knees and onto the bed instead, you were shocking yourself with your own decisions.

“Kiss me.”

Sunghoon paused.

“Don't you want me to, you know, rinse my mouth out?”

“Hmm… No.”

“Oh, shit.”

At that, Sunghoon wasted no time in positioning himself back on the bed. Much like you were in the beginning, you settled your legs on either side of his hips. There was a new spark in his eyes, increasingly desperate and intrigued. A chill ran down your spine with the metallic tang that quickly overtook your taste buds once you pulled Sunghoon back into a kiss. This, you thought, had to be the most taboo thing you'd ever done.

“You're something special, you know that?” Sunghoon growled between kisses. This he meant. He had been intimate with humans before, provided how long he'd been around it would be odd if he hadn't. However, many of them never let him get even close to this point. Being with you now had his mind growing foggy and heavy with lust. The curiosity of how much more he could get away with rattled through his thoughts.

The coiling sensation of need in the pit of your stomach was starting to become too intense for you to ignore much longer. Experimentally, you took the initiative to rock your hips back and forth just a bit. Sunghoon tensed up beneath you with a barely audible noise of surprise. The toothy smirk that followed felt like it was about enough to make you pass out on the spot. You felt a thrill of pleasure and power over him upon increasing the pace, your hips rolling in circles. His breathing quickened and his hands moved to grip your hips, his grip tight and unyielding. You knew just based on how pliant he'd become that he was at your mercy, and you were absolutely thriving.

“I never took you as the submissive type, Sunghoon.”

“Ah, the more you know. I- I never took myself as it either.”

The initially jarring flavor of your blood against your tongue had started to become less disconcerting. Something about the moral implications of what you were engaging in set a churning fire in your stomach. Much to Sunghoon’s dismay, you ceased your movements though his disappointment didn’t last long.

“Want you to touch me,” You muttered against his lips. He hesitated for a moment, surprised by the sudden request, before happily agreeing. His hands roamed your body shakily, exploring every contour. You felt a warmth spread through you at his touch, despite his skin being so cold. Sunghoon’s hands came to grasp at your chest, absentmindedly rubbing gentle circles around your nipples with his thumbs. You hadn't bothered to wear a bra tonight, your blouse being the only enduring barrier between him and your bare chest. Your hands came to rest with one tangling into his jet-black locks of hair and the other on the small of his back. Sunghoon tucked his head into the space between your head and shoulder, nipping at your neck lightly. Just enough to cause a pleasurable yet painful sensation.

You took a moment to collect your thoughts whilst Sunghoon continued his musings. As dazed as you were starting to feel, you felt some semblance of peace. The man you'd been lusting over for so long was here with you, with the last slivers of fading sunlight illuminating your forms. His body felt so right against yours. His innate coldness melding with your burning heat created the perfect temperature balance. You came back to your senses at a particularly high whine from Sunghoon and a tug at the hem of your shorts.

“Yes, Hoon?”

“May I touch you here, too?”

His fingertips ghosted over your groin. You nodded. Now, with his glossy eyes staring at you hazily, you could take proper note of the dribbles of drying blood around his mouth. After repositioning so that your back was against Sunghoon’s chest, you untied the strings of your black paperbag-styled pants and slipped out of them easily to reveal your underwear. They were relatively basic, bright red and soft material, though a thin band of white lace at the waistband added some visual intrigue. A satisfied smirk crossed Sunghoon’s face, did you wear these specifically for him?

One of his limber fingers dragged up and down the vaguely discernible form of your cunt, applying just enough pressure to make your breath catch in your throat. Your head tipped back, eyes fluttering shut to allow you to savor the moment. None of his movements were particularly special, it was only the fact it was Sunghoon that was sending shockwaves through your body. Sunghoon stopped only to hook his fingers through the bands of your panties and tear them off with ease. This prompted a gasp of surprise from you.

“Swear I'll get you new ones,” He sighed. “Though I have a feeling from this point onward you won't be needing them when you're around me.”

There wasn't ample time to process before Sunghoon returned his hand to its previous locale. With one quick motion, he gathered your arousal on his fingertips and landed an exceptionally light slap on your clit.

“Oh hell, Sunghoon, give me some warning.” You whimpered but melted against his touch regardless.

Rubbing slow circles against you, he issued a glaringly insincere apology, noting that with how slick you were already you didn't seem to find it unenjoyable. He spread your hole open with his pointer and index fingers, allowing him to rub and prod with his middle finger. He'd only inserted down to his second knuckle, teasing you wordlessly.

“More- Please more, promise I can handle it.”

“As you wish.”

“Are we in The Princess Diaries n-”

Your chiding was cut short by Sunghoon sinking two fingers into you, forming what resembled the sign language for ‘ILY’ with his hand. Resisting how you clenched around his digits, he took a moment to stretch and familiarize himself with the contours of your insides.

“You're so warm, love. Feels amazing.”

With your prompting and guidance, he soon found a pace that suited both of you, his fingers thrusting in and out tactfully and curling just before his pull outwards each time. You'd started to tremble with the added joy of his free hand groping at your tits through the material of your sleep shirt. Every time Sunghoon pumped inward, his palm hit firmly against your clit and added another intoxicating layer to the increasing pleasure filling your core.

Sunghoon was gaining from this too. Your subconscious jerks and wriggles provided consistent enough friction against his cock, which strained painfully against his pants, were enough to leave him hungering for more. It had been some time now since he'd last been intimate with anybody. He found he could seduce pretty much anyone he desired through his odd appeal, but he never found that to be any fun. It was far more interesting to let things develop naturally, the chase, even if it meant waiting longer than he wanted. It was always more fulfilling this way. He had all the time in the world to make it happen regardless.

Breathing in Sunghoon’s scent, and what you suspected were pheromones, you found yourself approaching your climax swiftly. You directed him to stop, much to his surprise.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asked softly. “Do you want to stop?”

You shook your head, watching with intrigue when Sunghoon removed his fingers from your hole and mindlessly licked his fingers. Damn.

“You're doing amazingly, but… I'd like to suck you off if you're up to it. I'm curious about this submissive side of you.”

Before you knew it you were sitting with your knees folded beneath you at the end of the bed. Sunghoon grabbed his long discarded coat and folded it neatly for you to rest on, guarding your knees from the unforgiving hardwood flooring. Sunghoon unfastened the top 3 buttons of his white undershirt which revealed a tantalizing view of his collarbones and the majority of his chest. You had seen him in rather tight-fitting tank tops before but seeing his bare skin made you feel faint.

You cupped the form of Sunghoon’s cock that pressed through the black gabardine fabric of his pants which pulled a low groan out of him. At some point, he lost track of the last time someone else touched him in such a manner but this, he thought, made it well worth the wait. You were growing too eager to keep it up for long though. One of your hands slid up beneath his shirt which sent a shiver up his spine, the other fumbling to undo the silver pants button and pull down the zipper. You found your gaze fixated on the wet patch forming on his white boxer briefs. Hell, he really was enjoying this. Deciding you were too impatient to remove things any further, Sunghoon pushed the waistband of his pants down enough to allow you to pull his underwear down to his thighs.

A shaky sigh rattled Sunghoon’s body, relishing in the feeling of his cock finally being freed and slapping against his stomach. The tip was glistening, swollen, and came to rest just a little ways beneath his naval. Yet there was one overarching surprise. A piercing below his glans, a barbell made of what you assumed to be black stainless steel or titanium. Sunghoon seemed to notice you staring and shifted slightly.

“I can take it out if it's off-putting.”

“No,” You felt your cheeks flush deeper if that was even possible. “I'm curious. I think… I think that it suits you well.”

Sunghoon sighed and made a small noise of acceptance. You told him not to touch you unless instructed, moving one hand to caress the smooth skin of his inner thigh. You could feel him tense beneath your touch. Taking his shaft into your grasp, you rubbed small circles to his tip before taking a few lazy strokes to spread his precum down the entire length. Cracking a somewhat wicked smirk, you looked up at Sunghoon, letting spit run down your chin onto his cock. Maintaining eye contact all the while, trying to ignore how his dewy eyes made your stomach churn. Finally connecting your lips to the head of his length made Sunghoon jump, his hand flying forward to cup your cheek but stopping just before making contact, choosing obedience instead. A little pinch to the thigh conveyed your approval.

His girth sat comfortably in your mouth, pleasantly heavy against your tongue. Sunghoon wasn't all that veiny, though the defined underside of his shaft made up for it in your eyes. While it made no difference when it came to sensation, he had two small moles dotted along his cock which in some odd way you found sort of cute. You were glad to learn he had moles below his neck after all.

Taking your time, you peppered feather-light kisses down his shaft, sometimes allowing more time for you to prod at the slit of his tip with your tongue. You eventually fit the entirety of him in your mouth. Despite your field of view only consisting of Sunghoon’s lower abdomen, the sounds of him panting and trying to suppress moans painted a perfectly vivid scene in your mind. You started to bob your head up and down, lending extra attention to his piercing, moving it around tactfully with your tongue. Every movement pulled muted cries from Sunghoon as he did his best not to chase the pleasure with bucking hips.

Figuring he'd been behaving aptly, you grasped Sunghoon's hand and let him card his fingers through your soft hair. Finally, you felt you were beginning to break him down wholly. Once he began to beg, you cupped his balls in the palm of your hand. Damn. They were quite large, you mused to yourself, rather even.

“Shit- Please! Please, please!”

You removed your mouth from his cock for just long enough to mess with him.

“Please what?” You giggled. “Use your words.”

Knowing exactly what he wanted, you didn't grant him any time to reply, taking his entire length back down your throat in one fell sweep. A shocked moan tore through Sunghoon’s throat, accidentally yanking your hair harshly.

“Mmph, gonna cum-” His breath caught harshly in his chest. “So close, don't stop, please!”

Just before he'd have tumbled over the edge to his orgasm, you completely removed yourself from him. Sunghoon's eyes shot open, and you swore there were tears in his eyes. He let out a pathetic whine and demanded to know why you quit when he was so close.

“We aren't done yet. We aren't done yet and I want every drop of cum you've been storing for god knows how long.”

Yeah, Sunghoon was sure now. You were going to be the end of him.

“Come on, Hoonie, let me take care of you.”

Sunghoon nodded meekly, heeding your command to settle near the headboard, leaning his back against it. He had discarded the rest of his clothing in the process, save for the tight fitting white tank he'd worn under all his layers.

“So,” Your hands wandered to his toned triceps. “You've been hiding all this?”

“Been saving it for you, baby.” Sunghoon tried to maintain his suave exterior, but you knew better than that now. Even then, the uncertain laugh he let out after told all.

Crawling onto his lap, your knees settled on either side of his hips. You took Sunghoon's cock in your hand again, keeping him in place so you could slowly rub yourself against him, the warmth of your folds making him shiver. His arm raised to wrap around the small of your back before dropping back into place, something that didn't go unnoticed by you. Despite not having said anything for a while he seemed to have kept your previous command in mind.

“Hmm. Aren't you obedient?”

“Yes, ma-” He stuttered. “Yes…”

You cocked an eyebrow and urged him to say what he was going to say to begin with. With a whine he commented that you were mean… though that wasn't stopping him.

“Yes, ma'am.” Sunghoon's eyes fluttered closed for only a second’s time before he locked eyes with you, intensely and with pupils blown wide. “Yes, ma'am. I wanna be so good for you.”

“Christ…” Your voice came out barely above a whisper. “Alright. You can touch, love, but don't you even think about cumming until I tell you to. Ok?”

Sunghoon was quick to agree to your conditions and wasted no time in getting his grip on your soft skin. Lining his length up with your hole, you gradually sunk down until your hips were flush with his. You stayed still for a few moments, claiming it was to let Sunghoon get accustomed to being inside you, but truthfully you needed the time to become situated with how well he filled you.

Brushing his jet black hair away from his eyes, you felt pretty confident that you were the only thing in the world to Sunghoon at that moment.

Nothing could've properly prepared you for the first few movements, the drag of his cock against your walls made you gasp. His piercings added just enough friction for you to notice the difference. Sunghoon didn't seem to be in much better shape given his ironclad grip on you.

It didn't take long for you to start feeling greedy, bouncing up and down progressively quicker. Everything was just too good. The stretch of your walls, the borderline soft cries from the man under you. Yet you had an idea… one you intended to act on.

“Hoonie,” You purred with an almost teasing tone and tapped your neck. “Want to bite me, hm? Before you ask, I'm sure.”

Sunghoon looked at you as if you'd lost your mind entirely. After making you confirm once again he eagerly accepted your offer. He pulled you closer to him, pressed against his chest. Nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, Sunghoon left small kitten licks on the skin above your artery.

With little warning, his pointed fangs pierced your skin once more. This time the sensation was much more intense, causing you to clench harshly around Sunghoon’s cock which elicited a sharp whine from him. Like anticipated, the stinging pain was swiftly replaced with burning heat. Your mind grew hazy with warm waves of pleasure which Sunghoon would later explain to be an effect of his saliva.

“Damnit, Hoon… S-Shit that feels good.”

Sunghoon could only muster up a pathetic sob in response, too overwhelmed by the pleasure. You felt whatever blood he didn't manage to lap up trail down your neck and through every curve of your chest. Every day you spent with Sunghoon seemed to be a day of discovery for you, tonight was certainly no different.

Upon clearing the fog over your conscience enough to think straight, your hand snaked into Sunghoon’s hair, granting silent permission for him to keep drinking. You made sure he was alright before taking a deep breath and lifting your hips up. Sunghoon's whole body jolted when you dropped down, unexpected only to him as he had been so preoccupied with your neck.

“Just relax, dear, I've got you. Promise. Ok?”

Sunghoon let the tension drop from his shoulders at your words. As new as this whole submissive deal was to him, he felt inclined to trust you and lessen his control. Each bounce on his cock melted his mind so deliciously. You sensed he likely couldn't last much longer, which you knew in part was entirely your fault for teasing him so much, though you didn't find it to be an issue. You were as desperate as he was in truth.

Rather quickly, calculated moves devolved into the both of you moaning against one another. The times where his hips happened to snap up to near yours at just the right moment were easily becoming your favorite. Sunghoon pulled himself away just enough to meet your eyes, his own brimming with overwhelmed tears.

“C-Can I cum this time? Please?”

You cocked your head to the side expectantly.

“Please… ma’am? I think I've been so good, I’ll-”

You cut off his sentence with a kiss. Something about the sheer desperation laced throughout his voice was enough to bring you to your edge, you thought it would be fun to deny him again… but you had more days to come. For now, you didn't want to hold it anymore.

“Yes, Hoonie, you may. Good boy.”

At that, Sunghoon pulled you in tightly, slamming the whole length of his cock as deep inside of you as anatomically possible. Like music, his choked moans and sobs fell graciously upon your ears. Sunghoon’s cum filled you in quick gushes and whatever couldn't fit leaked down his shaft.

Freeing one of your hands, you reached down to rub your clit in tight circles, sending you over to your climax. Sunghoon was able to pull himself together enough to assist you in riding it out and in turn shoving his cum deeper inside of you. You were confident this was the most intense feeling you'd ever experienced by far, and you saw yourself getting addicted to it… not that you minded an excuse to fuck a man this unbelievably fine.

Well over a few moments were spent in total silence besides the heavy breathing and lingering whimpers from your exhausted frames.

“Come on,” you pulled off Sunghoon as much as you hated losing the full feeling of being full of him. “Gotta pee. You too.”

You crawled off the bed and started for the restroom before noticing a distinct lack of footsteps behind you. Sunghoon was sat on the edge of the bed, messing with his nails absentmindedly.

“Sunghoon? You ok?”

“Just… happy, I think. I'm not used to- nevermind.”

You decided you weren't going to pry, urging him to his feet. Once he was in front of you, you softly squished his cheeks together before simply holding his face and smiling. Despite everything you had just done with him and how he was still bloody, sweaty, and fully naked you could only think about how strikingly soft and kind his smile was. The way his eyes crinkled shut and fangs peeked out made your heart swell, especially in this moment.

Sunghoon bent down to place a kiss on your forehead.

“Alright, let's go get washed up.”

It seemed to you that Sunghoon couldn't keep his eyes off of you. When you wiped each others faces clean with warm cloths, got in cozy pajamas, and clamored back in to bed after removing the soiled sheets, he was only watching you. It was a feeling that he couldn't quite place, but he felt like he could watch you this way forever.

Sunghoon wrapped his body around yours, enjoying the warmth of your back against his chest. When your hand found his, interlocking your fingers, he almost felt like he could faint.

“Thank you.”

Behind his spent tone was a tenderness you had never picked up in the time you've known him.

“For what, Hoon?”

“Indulging me, I guess.” He giggled. “For welcoming me into your home all this time and hopefully seeing me for more than my astonishingly good looks.”

You chose to ignore the self-glaze for now. The moment was too precious to consider messing with him now. The room and bedsheets too cozy.

“You don't have to thank me. I think I should be thanking you for helping me navigate through life in an entirely new town. Keeping me company.”

“I…”

“You don't have to say anything more, Sunghoon.”

“I'd be content to lay here like this with you for the rest of time. However long that may be.”

[lustfulslxt]

hi hi! "local" anon here, and i just had a rlly good idea that ik you will deliver perfectly.

matt "accidently" sends reader a d pick and she's all flustered but just doesn't say anything, until like the next day when they all like go out to dinner and everyone's in their own conversation. she just brings it up like, "so what was that pic you sent last night?" and he knows EXACTLY what she's talking about, but is all like "huh? what?"

but then, later that night, she ends up sending a risky pic of her own and then he just texts her saying to like 'come over immediately' or he's coming over to her house and then yk what!!

again, i love your writing and i know you will NOT disappoint with this!! Love you ! 😘

Take The Risk - Matt Sturniolo

warnings : spicy pics and smuttt

a/n : finally!! am i right?? pls look the other way if this is shit, like actually fr.. lmaoooo

—

“This is actually impossible. I’m gonna die of old age before I finish this thing.” I groan to myself, letting my head fall forward onto the table.

It’s been weeks of me staring at all of these pieces, all the exact same, aside from the shape. I’m determined to complete it. I lift my head up, an irregular piece slowly falling from my forehead.

“Who came up with this shit? Why are they so against me?” I ask no one in particular, seeing as I’m completely alone.

I’m convinced whoever created this was just trying to spite me. I can never back of out a challenge, they had to have known that. It’s been hours since I first sat down to work on it today, I am bored out of my mind, but I still can’t put the pieces down. Just as I’m about to toss my head back and cry from frustration, I realize I only have five pieces left. I jump forward, laying them all out in front of me, studying their pattern and the way they could all fit together. It takes maybe another ten minutes before I finally get it.

The last asymmetrical piece, snaps into place, completing the array of silver configuration. Twenty two days, six hundred fifty four pieces later. There she sits, in all her glory. Silver (Krypt), the hardest jigsaw puzzle to solve. This puzzle has no pictures, instead, it simply consists of hundreds of silver pieces, with a circular center and surrounding pieces making the finished jigsaw a plain rectangle. I put my blood, sweat, and tears into this thing.

“Never back down, never what?!” I exclaim, jumping up from my seated position, only now realizing how bad my posture is from the ache in my back. I reach my hand around, holding my back as I groan, “Fuck.”

Straightening up, I grab my phone and immediately snap a picture of the completed puzzle. I just have to show Matt, he’s going to be thrilled. I send the photo to him on snapchat, then head to my kitchen. I grab a bottle of water and a bag of chips to snack on, then go upstairs to relax in my bedroom. Once I put my show on the TV, I notice a notification from Matt.

Matty B

NO WAY YOU FINISHED IT

Me

I DID

Matty B

only took you a month lmao

Me

BYE

it was hard asf 👹

Matty B

me too

Me

UM EXCUSE ME

Matty B

whattt

myb

Me

🌚 you can’t just say that then b like ‘mY bAd’

Matty B

i didn’t mean it

Me

oh

Matty B

congrats on finishing the puzzle tho

now i don’t have to listen to you complaining about the creator being against you

Me

blocked.

Matty B

LMFAO

bro. i was joke

Me

awesome to hear bro

I roll away from my phone, grabbing my chips to eat while I watch TV. An hour goes by, before I make my way to the bathroom. I wash my face and brush my teeth, then strip into my pajamas to finally go to sleep. Walking back into my room, I grab my phone to check one last time. As I plug my charger into it, I notice a snapchat from Matt. Upon opening it, my jaw drops.

There, on my screen, is a picture of a dick. Matt’s dick; fully erect, veins dancing alongside it, the tip pink with dribbles of precum. His hand sits at the base, unintentionally giving me a visual comparison of the size, and boy, it’s something. I can’t help but lick my lips at the sight, before snapping out of it and realizing my best friend just sent me a picture of his cock.

I’m at a loss for words. I can’t even think properly, far from being able to articulate a response. So, I just lock my phone and lay down. Yet, every time I close my eyes, I see his dick staring back at me, begging to be touched. I can feel the arousal building in me, my walls now clenching around nothing. Tossing and turning, attempting to ignore the growing desire, I deeply sigh. It’s going to be a long night.

-

I look at my phone screen, observing myself in my front camera. I’m currently about to walk into the restaurant where I’m having dinner with Matt, Nick, Chris, Nate, and Madi. I haven’t addressed the picture Matt sent me yesterday, and he hasn’t brought it up either, but it’s still lingering in my mind.

Putting my phone away, I lock my car and strut towards the entrance of the restaurant. Upon entering, a hostess greets me and directs to the table where my friends reside.

“Y/N!” Nate cheers, causing the rest of them to look over at me, smiles appearing on all of their faces.

“Hey guys, sorry I’m a little late.” I apologize, scooting in next to Matt.

“You’re all good, I ordered your drink already.” Matt informs me, “They should be coming around shortly.”

I smile, “Thanks, Matty.”

Within five minutes, we all receive our drinks and order our food. While waiting on our meals, we resume light conversation. However, I cannot stop thinking about the picture Matt sent me. Every time I look at him, I feel my heart beat faster and my breath gets caught in my throat. Are we just going to forget about it? Is that what he expects? I can’t just forget.

As the other four indulge in their own conversations, I notice Matt is silent, so I use this as my chance to confront him about it.

“Matt?” I call out, loud enough for him to hear me, yet quiet enough so the others don’t.

His directs his attention to me, softly humming in response as his eyebrows raise, expectantly.

“Um, about yesterday..” I trail off, attempting to read his body language.

I see him slightly tense up, clearing his throat as he looks at me, feigning confusion, “What?”

I give him a pointed look, “That picture you sent last night.”

He looks around as if trying to rack his brain, his eyebrows furrowing as he shrugs, “What are you talking about?”

I sigh, coming to a realization that I’m going to get nowhere with this. He knows what I’m talking about. I know he knows, I can see it all over him. Two can play at that game.

I clearly my throat and shake my head, “Actually nothing, forget about it.”

For the rest of the evening, we don’t speak on that topic again. We all just enjoy our food and the company of each other.

After dinner, I arrive home and immediately head to the bathroom for a shower. The entire night, my mind has been stuck on Matthew, wishing we talked about it, longing for more. We’ve never been anything other than friends, but he lit something in me, a fire that I can’t seem to put out. Should I call him over it? Should I do what he did to me?

After getting dressed in nothing but a black lingerie set, I sit in front of my bedroom mirror. I do look good, but should I really do this? Just take a picture and send it? I give myself another once over, before deciding to turn around and lean forward, snapping a quick photo.

I don’t know how much time has passed as I sit there, staring at my screen. My fingers hover over the picture, unsure of what to say, or if I should say anything at all. Taking a deep breath, I full send, then quickly put my phone down, suddenly ridden with more anxiety as I anticipate his response.

Hopefully I’m not reading more into this situation than what it is. Surely Matt is just playing hard to get. If he didn’t mean to send the picture, he would’ve just said that, right? I try to convince myself that he’s just being a tease, but the more I think about it, the more the pit in my stomach grows. After what feels like forever, I reach for my phone and my immediately face falls.

Opened 12 minutes ago.

Before I can even think a single thought, knocks on my front door sound throughout the silent atmosphere. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I grab my black silk robe and slip it on while walking towards the door. Peeking through the peephole, I see Matt standing there, looking antsy. I freeze, my hand stuck on the doorknob, unable to complete the motion of turning it. I toss my head back, taking a deep breath, before pulling the door open. His eyes light up once he sees me, his gaze flickering over my figure before he makes his way inside.

Within seconds, his lips are on mine, needy and desperate. Taking a few seconds to get over the initial shock, my lips move against his, my hands looping around his neck as his hands pull me in closer by my waist. Without removing his lips from mine, he kicks the door shut and walks me backwards, towards my couch.

As soon as my legs hit the side, he pulls back and asks, “Is this okay?”

I eagerly nod, “More than okay.”

A small grin pulls to his lips before they’re back on mine, kissing me with so much hunger. His hands grope at every one of my curves, squeezing and kneading my skin. His hands suddenly grab my robe, pulling it down my arms and letting it fall behind me, before he pulls away and takes in my appearance once again. He licks his lips and tugs his bottom lip between his teeth, and I can see the bulge stiffening in his pants.

“Fuck, you’re so fine.” He groans, pulling me back into him.

His hands forcefully grab my face and he slams his lips onto mine once again, pulling our bodies flush together. My hands tread through his hair, tugging as he turns my head to the side and moves his mouth to work down my jaw to my neck. His breath is hot against my skin, his tongue licking and his teeth biting. I can feel my arousal pool in between my legs, and I have to squeeze them together to relieve the tension. His hands travel down to my ass, tightly squeezing and massaging it, only making me more wet as I let out a soft moan.

He pulls away and rests his forehead on mine, “What do you want, baby?”

I lick my lips, letting out a breath, “You. I want you, Matt.”

Instantly, he pulls his shirt off and comes back to me, pressing his lips on mine again. I reach behind my back, unhooking my bra and letting it fall down my arms and onto the floor. His hands immediately make their way to my boobs, and I’m melting in his palms. He grips them tenderly yet firm, pulling more moans from me. He leans forward and takes one of my nipples in his mouth, sucking on it as he pinches the opposite one.

The desire in me grows stronger with every touch he graces me with. He knows what he’s doing, and I’m weak in the knees because of it. Kissing me with so much passion and lust, his fingers slip into the waistband of my bottoms, pulling them down with ease, only breaking the kiss to fully remove them. My hands tug at his pants, wanting him to take those off as well, which he does, along with his boxers. We’re left standing, completely naked, and hungry for one another.

He places a couple of soft kisses against my lips, before quickly spinning me around and bending me over the side of the couch. His hands travel down my back, applying just the right amount of pressure, causing me to clench in anticipation. His fingers dig into the skin of my ass, jiggling it, and gripping it with enough strength to surely leave bruises. One of his hands breaks away from me, only to come right back with extreme speed and force. I yelp, jerking forward at the feeling of his hand colliding with my bare skin, a moan soon following as he rubs the place he smacked.

“Just wanna make you feel good, baby.” He whispers against my ear, his fingers trailing between my legs, running over my core.

I let out a whimper, pushing back against his hand for more, but his other hand places a firm hold on my back, keeping me in place. His fingers run through my folds, becoming slick with my wetness, causing him to let out a groan. His fingertips rub my clit in slow and soft circles, adding more pressure and speed with every second, leaving me quivering with moans.

“Mm, such a good girl.” He praises, sinking two fingers into my entrance, ripping a loud moan from my mouth.

“Just wanna be a good girl for you.” I find myself saying in between the whimpers of pleasure.

His pace increases, his fingers pumping in and out of me while his other hand runs up and down my back. I could feel the orgasm building so quickly, begging for release. His hand moves from my back, and starts tracing circles onto my clit once more, his fingers inside me going even faster. My legs start shaking and I’m now putting all my weight onto the couch, way too weak to stand on my own.

“So wet.” Matt mumbles in delight at the sound of his fingers in my juices, “Bet you taste so good.”

“F-fuck, feels so good.” I moan, shuddering as he increases his speed even more. “Gon-gonna cum.”

“Let go, baby.”

His fast movements and the sound of his raspy voice fuel my orgasm, my climax falling upon me quickly. I clench around his fingers, letting myself go and cum all over his hands. He continues finger fucking me, letting me ride out my high. He removes his hands from me and I look back in time to see him sucking all of my juices off of his fingers. The sight alone had me clenching again, eager for more.

“I knew it.” He moans against his fingers, “Taste like I could eat you forever.”

I stand back up on shaky legs, turning to face him and pulling him into a deep kiss, our tongues intertwining and exploring each other’s mouth. His hand comes up to my throat, gently squeezing it, pulling me closer, before pulling us apart altogether.

“We’re not done yet, my sweet girl.” He smirks against my lips, turning me back around and laying me over the couch once again.

He wraps his hand around his dick, stroking it a few times, then runs it through my folds, causing me to shake from the sensitivity. Without a word, he places one hand on my lower back and slowly slides himself in my entrance.

A high pitched moan falls from my lips as he groans, tossing his head back, “Fuck. Been wanting this forever, baby. Feel better than I’ve ever imagined.”

I pull my bottom lip between my teeth, sliding backwards to take all of him in me. He moans loudly, tightly gripping my hips. He holds me in place as he starts thrusting, digging deeper into me with every pump. His strokes get faster and harder, our skin slapping together as I become a moaning mess. My whole body shakes with every movement of his, my face buried into the sofa, muffling my sounds as he fucks me. My legs tremble as he hits exactly where I need him, and I instantly begin clenching around him.

His hand wraps around my hair in a makeshift ponytail and tugs my head back, “I wanna hear your pretty moans, baby. You like the way I fuck you?”

“Mmm, yes. I love it-” I sound out, breathless from the pleasure. “You fuck me s-so good.”

His thrusts quicken and his grip on my hip tightens. The knot in my stomach continues growing, proving my statement to be true. I’ve never been fucked like this, and I can’t help but think about how I’m so glad I sent him that picture.

“Fuck, baby. You feel so good wrapped around my cock, taking me so well. My good girl.” He moans, his hips sputtering.

The pressure in my stomach becomes too much and it’s hard holding it in, my hands gripping the cushions beneath me. He leans forward, his hands intertwining with mine as his lips trail open mouth kisses up and down my back. I can’t help the moans that keep pouring from my mouth, feeling nothing but pure bliss.

“I can feel you clenching around me.” He whispers in my ear, “Cum on my cock, so I can fill you up, pretty girl.”

With that, I let go. My entire body shakes as pornographic moans fall from my lips, my pussy clenching around him so tightly. His strokes become erratic and his moans and groans are louder than before. He quickens his pace as he chases his high, instantly filling me up with a loud raspy moan emitting from his mouth. He continues thrusting into me, pushing his cum deeper. He leans back, standing up straight as we both catch our breaths. His hands find my back once again, softly massaging it. He pulls out, my legs twitching from the stimulation. His hands move down to my ass, gently squeezing it, before he helps me up.

“How are you feeling?” He asks, turning me to face him, keeping his hands around my waist for support.

“Like we should’ve done that a long time ago.” I grin, still breathless.

“We can always make up for lost time.” He grins, placing his forehead on mine.

I nod as we both laugh before he places a few kisses on my cheeks and lips. His hand grabs mine and he pulls me even more into him, capturing my lips in a deep but loving kiss.

“Let’s take a shower, so I can clean you up.” He suggests.

My face heats up and I nod once more, following him upstairs as he never lets my hand go.

Our friendship just changed entirely and I can’t wait for what’s in store for us, because I know it’s going to be euphoric.

—

a/n : tadaaa!!! ugh i hope this wasn’t shit, it’s been forever :((( lmk what you think! requests are closed bc i have wayyy too many that i need to catch up on, but i’m hoping i can get back into it! love uu <333

[selfishdoll]

❛ IM SORRY...❜

Oh, tell me what you're willing to do? | Kiss it, kiss it better, baby ⁺ 𓂋 𓈒 ♡ KISS IT BETTER

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 SUMMARY.

you’re sick of choso being late for dates.. unfortunately he knows the perfect way to make it all better.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 CONTENT WARNING.

mdni, reader is petty fr <3, oral (fem receiving), overstimulation, groveling choso (lowkey), fingering, multiple orgasms, pet names, praise, etc.

ཐིཋྀ ⊹ 𓈒 NOTE.

on my munch choso agenda & he seems like the type to eat pussy to make it up to you. unedited, please excuse typos & grammar mistakes.

He was late. Again. For the third time. Your blood boiled within you, ass planted on your couch when it should be in your boyfriend’s car; on the way to your favorite restaurant. But no, Kamo Choso decided to ignore his alarm, and your many texts plus phone calls; to only answer them about thirty minutes after the time you two were supposed to be there.

Despite how remorseful he was on the phone, you were still a bit pissed; something he sensed easily.

With a soft grumble to yourself you rose from the couch, padding over to your bedroom. Your good mood was gone, you wanted nothing more than to lay in bed and watch some tv. Nothing Choso did would fix his mistake this time.

Entering the bedroom you sat at your vanity, beginning to remove your jewerly. First your rings, bracelet, and whilst working on your necklace you heard your front door open; causing your eyes to roll.

“(Y/N)?” Choso called, fiddling with his keys for a moment, shoulders faltering when you didn’t reply. Yeah, he knew he screwed up bad. Taking a breath he kicked his shoes off, waltzing over to your bedroom and peeking in to see you wiping your mascara away with a wipe. “I’m sorry for being late, we can still go.”

You didn’t answer, not even bothering to look at him as you continued to wipe away the minor makeup. Choso leaned against your doorframe, lips pressed into a thin line as he attempted to search for the words to change your mind. You were always so stubborn when you got like this, something he found cute until it was directed at him.

His thoughts trailed away the moment he heard your chair push out, watching you stand and waltz over to your closet; refusing to acknowledge him. You searched through your clothes for a moment before settling on a simple nightgown, moving backwards to your bed and sitting down. You leaned over, attempting to unclasp the anklet you wore, grumbling when it proved difficult given your nails. Finally fed up you sat up, extending your leg to Choso.

“Finally acknowledging me?”

“Just take off my anklet.” You mumbled, glancing away from him. The man gave a soft sound of disbelief mixed with amusement, moving closer and grabbing your leg. He pressed it against his chest, fingers fiddling with the gold plated jewelry of his name for a moment before his fingers trailed across your skin.

“You know I didn’t mean to oversleep.”

“Mhm.”

“And I’m really sorry too.” Choso claimed, watching your cross your arms and slowly nod. The man smiled a bit, leaning down to press a kiss to your ankle, feeling you twitch. That was enough motivation, lowering the kisses until they hit your inner thigh, watching you finally glance at him. “Choso..” You spoke, attempting to pull your leg away, only for his grip to tighten on your ankle. Your breath hitched as his free hand began to push your dress up to your stomach, lowering until he rested on his knees. “Choso.” You called out again, hissing the moment you felt his lips press against your covered slit.

“Lemme make it up to you princess. Show you how sorry I really am.”

Choso’s fingers caught on the band of your panties, pulling them down and off your body, hands grabbing the inside of your thighs to spread you wider. The man wasted no time in driving his thick tongue up your slit, fingers digging into your flesh to assure you didn’t move an inch. Lapping at your sex, shifting between teasing your entrance and tracing your sensitive bud; continuing to grip you with each twitch of your thighs.

Your resolve was melting away, struggling to keep your moans at bay. You wanted to be mad at him, even if it was an honest mistake. You wanted to be petty and ignore him. But, he was just so damn good with his tongue. A messy eater that left you shaking and trembling with each careful swipe of his wicked muscle. You bit your palm, legs closing around his head as your eyes pinched close; widening the moment two fingers entered you, curling against your spongy walls. Your hand flew to his hair, his messy black tresses being pulled in a tight grip.

“Choso—!”

“There it is..” The man murmured, pulling back from your cunt; thumb quickly replacing his tongue on your clit. His digits thrusted and scissored inside you, furiously rubbing circles on the bud— all while his heavy lidded eyes stared up at you. “That’s it.. Not as mad as you were before, huh?”

You whimpered as his fingers went deeper, all the way down to the knuckle as wet squelches erupted from between your legs. You wanted to defend your case, maybe curse him out too— instead you could only moan and shake, losing yourself in the pleasurable apology.

Choso gave a knowing smile, enjoying the way your previously irritated expression melted into nothing but pure ecstasy. He would give a proper apology later but now, this would do.

“Can’t even speak.. that’s okay, she’s talking enough for you.” The man spoke, removing his thumb to go right back to sucking and lapping at your swollen button; unfazed as your thighs continued to close around his head. Your hips rose, grinding into his face as the band in your stomach tightened and tightened.

His name fell from your lips in a dazed mantra, eyes glazed over before you broke; a high pitched cry escaping you as you came— tainting his face in your mess. Your legs shook, greedily sucking up air as you attempted to come down from the high; all while he continued to suck and thrust his fingers inside you.

Soon enough the sensitivity became too much, hand sliding from his hair to push at his forehead— whining as the pleasure teetered on painful. Choso didn’t let up however, quickening his fingers all while sucking your poor bud raw. Tears of overstimulation trailed down your hot cheeks, head twisting back and forth as you tried to somehow run from the pleasure. You only got an inch away before he was releasing your thigh to instead lay his heavy arm across your lower stomach; holding you there.

“Cho—Choso.. please fuck—! I forgive you.. fuck I can’t—“ Whimpers escaped you, the pushes against his forehead becoming weak as your hips rose into his face. Your were making such a mess of yourself, him, and your blankets; something you couldn’t give a damn about at the moment.

Your stomach clenched harder than before, both hands gripping his hair as your back arched; his name exiting your throat incoherently, creaming all over his face and fingers.

You sniffled and breathed heavy, blurry eyes watching Choso slowly pull away from you after lapping all your juices up. He crawled over your tired body, fingers finding your cheeks to turn you, capturing your lips in a nasty, wet kiss. Your hand lazily grasped his arm, blinking heavily, hissing when his thigh brushed between your legs.

“Hurts, Choso..” You spoke softly, pulling back to breathe. The man chuckled at your words, leaning down to kiss your wet cheek.

“I know. I’ll be gentle next time.” A lie. One you both knew.

His strong arms reached under you, pulling you into him as he laid on his side. “I am really sorry for sleeping through my alarm, I know how much you wanted to go.”

You shook your head slowly, smiling at your lover tenderly. “No. You worked the night shift, I have to be a little more understanding.” You spoke, fingers trailing his arm to which Choso smiled back. The two of you shared another sweet kiss, hands brushing across the other’s form.

“How about we order in?”

“Sounds perfect.”

[redvexillum]

@crackrodent...YOU. AGAIN? But in all seriousness, thanks for challenging me. I've never written about an irredeemable main character before...or torture.

TAGS/WARNINGS: m/m, non-con, blackmail, drug use, tom is a psychopath/pervert but this is also hell so like not surprising, s☆unding, mutilati☆n, an☆l penetration, bottom!val, fr☆ttage, pins in c☆ck, blood as lube, b☆ndage, s☆x toy, no comfort, ☆verstimulation, begging, crying, torment, dead dove: do not eat, psychological, val had a really bad time, writer took a huge liberty of her head canon on tom trench, sadist!tom, s☆xual torture, unhinged!tom, dark, crack treated seriously, all the characters in this story are in hell because they are incredibly awful and despicable mofos, not kinktober or flufftober just horror

🙏 please mind your mental health before you read 🙏

Worthless. Trash. Nobody.

Tom Trench had heard it all, every demeaning spiteful word carved into his soul like jagged shards of glass. Back when he was alive, those words clung to him, branding him as an outsider, a weirdo – a man too peculiar for the world.  

His tastes, his quirks, all things he embraced were sneered at, laughed off, cast aside. He didn’t belong. He was an outsider lurking at the edges of every group, too strange to fit in, too proud to bend. But even then, buried under layers of bitterness and rejection, he had a dream. 

A dream to stand before the world, larger than life, bathed in the spotlight. His magnificent hair slicked back in perfection; his smile wide as fans would bow to his feet.  

Fame. Riches. Accolades.  

He had pictured it all, the roar of approval swelling in his ears as eyes would be all on him – he would be a star.  

The world would see him as a somebody.  

But life, cruel and fickle, dealt him a dog’s death.  

Scorned. Forgotten. Alone.  

His dreamed withered, trampled by those who never saw him for anything more than the peculiar man in the corner.  

He died as nothing. 

And it burned.  

Yet here, in Hell, things were different. Down here, he mattered. Hell didn’t care about quirks or strangeness; Hell embraced it. And Tom, with his gas mask forever fused to his face like a grotesque second skin, had found something he’d never had before: recognition. 

Tom Trench.  

The name burned brighter than the flames licking the underworld. He was co-host of 666 News, one of the most-watched shows in Hell. Here, they knew him. He had status. All eyes were on him, on Tom Trench.  

A somebody. He was a somebody.  

At least, that was what he told himself every time the camera crew or makeup artist glanced at him with blank indifference, their eyes flickering over him as if he were nothing more than an inconvenience.  

“Uhm, sir,” his assistant’s hesitant voice broke through his thoughts, her hands fidgeting nervously at her sides. “We’re ready for you.” 

Tom’s jaws clenched. That damn look again, the one that screamed she forgot my name.

Again.  

“It’s Tom,” he bit out, his voice a sharp, jagged edge.  

Her eyes widened, the fake forced smile twitching on her lips. “Right, of course, Tom.” She repeated it like she had to convince herself, taking a shaky step back. “You’re ready for the stage.” 

Her gaze slid past him almost immediately, gravitating toward his co-host, that bitch, Katie Killjoy. It was always the same – her and everyone else – eyes trailing longingly toward Killjoy, as if Tom were just a mere shadow in her spotlight. He could see it in the way his assistant’s lips curled into something softer when she looked at Killjoy, how her body relaxed as if being near her was a privilege.  

Tom forced his fury down, letting it simmer beneath the surface. Killjoy was a co-host, just like Tom. That was all.Nothing more. Yet, as the two of them sat side by side in front of the camera, the venomous reality slapped him across the face with every word that left her smug lips.  

She humiliated him. She did it effortlessly, tossing insults like they were second nature. A scalding cup of coffee spilled “accidentally” onto his lap, her sharp laughter ringing out as he flinched from the heat. Then came the string expletives, words flung at him like daggers in front of millions. The denizens of Hell loved it. They adore her viciousness, drank in her venom as if it were sweet wine.  

Her ratings soared.  

And Tom? He sat there, swallowing the bitter, sour taste of bile that surfaced from his rage, that threatened to choke him as they all laughed at him, never with him. Even in Hell, where he had clawed his way into a position of recognition, he was still just a stepping stone for someone like Killjoy. She was the woman everyone adored, while he remained the pathetic afterthought.  

The air was thick with whispers, swirling around the room like vultures circling a dying beast. They weren’t subtle – the gossip, the sidelong glances, the smiles aimed at her. The world of entertainment was all about her, the extravagant life she paraded in front of Hell’s masses, basking in the endless attention. And every second, his spotlight dimmed just a little more.  

Tom could feel it slipping away, like sand through his clenched fingers. His hand tightened into a fist, knuckles white as he fought to keep control, then slowly loosened. He had to breathe. But with every breath, memories came rushing back.  

Horrible memories.  

Scrubbing floors under the sneers of radio stars who barely acknowledged his existence. A janitor. A nobody. The disgusted glances, the whispers behind his back, the way they treated him like he was nothing. He had clawed his way up from that pit of humiliation, only to find himself teetering on the edge once more.  

But with the anger came something else. Something dark. Something...delicious. The perverse satisfaction that had always come when he exacted his revenge. Oh, how sweet it was to see the terror in their eyes before their blood painted the walls, before their lives were extinguished so easily as they had tried to snuff out his.  

The thought made him giddy, almost light-headed. That bitch, Killjoy...How he longed to wrap his hands around her throat, feel the delicate bones snap beneath his fingers, rip her trachea out and leave her lifeless body dangling in front of his house – strung up by her cunt. 

It was only a fantasy. For now.  

“...and back to you, Tom,” came that sickenly sweet voice, dripping with condescension. Katie Killjoy flashed her blood-red smile, her ghastly pale face stretching unnaturally, her long neck bent at an angle that made her look more like a grotesque puppet than a woman.  

Tom blinked, snapping out of his dark thoughts. He cleared his throat, fumbling to gather the papers in front of him. His voice was just about to break the silence when– 

The world tilted. His body hit the floor hard.  

Killjoy had shoved him.  

Laughter erupted. Hers, shrill and wicked, echoed by the snickers of the camera crew. His ass was planted on the cold studio floor, his notes scattered like the worthless thoughts they were, fluttering around him like discarded dreams.  

Words that had meant something – his words – now crushed underfoot, ground into the dirt like they weren’t even worth reading aloud.  

He sat there, frozen, the uselessness of it all swallowing him whole. Every time she shoved him, every time she spat venom in his direction, each moment she treated him like a worthless bug, something deep inside of him broke apart just a little more.  

Tom had always considered himself patient. He had always prided himself on being able to bide his time, to let the insults roll off his back, knowing that, when the time came, he would take care of his problems in...unorthodox ways. But now, the anger simmering just beneath the surface was growing hotter, more volatile, like magma threatening to erupt from the depths of his soul. Until, one day... 

One day... 

He... 

He laughed.  

The sound was hollow, echoing off the cracked walls of his dingy one-room apartment. The flickering lights barely illuminated the Hell critters scuttling through the walls, the electricity only working half the time – if that.  

He sat on the edge of his sagging bed, a wild itch spreading across his face. That damn gas mask. The curse that had fused it to his skin, forever making him a monster and incapable of showing a wide range of emotions. His fingers dug beneath the edges, nails scraping at his own flesh, tearing at the seams, trying to rip it off. But no matter how hard he clawed, it wouldn’t budge.  

The mask was a reminder. It was a part of him now, just like the hatred that grew and festered inside. No matter how much he wanted to tear it away; to rip off the facade and scream at the world, it clung to him. Just like the memories.  

The mask was a reminder – a cruel, suffocating reminder of his own stupidity. His fatal mistake. He hadn’t set the gas mask properly that night, hadn’t secured the mask tight enough before he drugged his victims – no – enemies. In his eagerness to play with them, he got careless. He remembered the sudden burn in his lungs, the bitter, acrid fumes filling his throat, choking him on his own vomit. The last thing he felt before death claimed him was the searing shame of his own failure.  

And now, that same mask – the mask that failed to protect him in life – was fused to his flesh in death. A permanent scar, a mockery from Hell itself. A joke, courtesy of the damn Lord, who seemed to take twisted pleasure in reminding Tom of his fall from grace. The mask clung to his skin, melded into his very being, a symbol of his downfall.  

It was as if Hell itself were looking down on him, laughing at him, calling him...  

Worthless.  

Trash.  

Nobody.  

Just like her. Just like Killjoy.  

His hands trembled, raw and bloodied from his earlier attempts to rip the mask off, to tear away the part of himself that was forever tainted by his failure. Shreds of skin hung loosely from his face, sticky with blood that dripped steadily onto his pants. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered.  

As he bowed his head low, his eyes caught sight of the pristine white card – the invitation to a party tonight, an exclusive event for Hell’s celebrities to mingle and gloat.  

They hadn’t even bothered to invite him.  

He had stolen the invitation, filched it from Killjoy’s purse when she wasn’t looking. He’d rifled through her things countless times, savouring the small victories of taking what was hers. Knowing your enemy was critical, after all.  

His gaze drifted toward the small shrine in the corner of his apartment – a twisted, obsessive display of trinkets he had stolen from her like a scavenging magpie. A half-used tube of lipstick, condom wrappers, a mini bullet vibrator, a cheap pen. All arranged neatly, each item a piece of her that he kept close. A constant reminder of the enemy.  

But even as he looked at the shrine, something darker stirred within him. His cock twitched at the memory of the hot-pink vibrator, the way he had rubbed it against himself, imagining it was tainted with her disgusting touch. The fantasy that she hadn’t cleaned it properly before discarding it. He had gotten hard thinking about it, the idea of licking it clean crossing his mind more than once. But he couldn’t. The mask wouldn’t allow it. The thin slits were just wide enough for a straw, nothing more.  

Blood oozed down his hands as he stood, but the pain was distant, drowned out by the fury simmering inside him. His eyes lingered on the stolen items as dark glee radiated within him. She would be at the party tonight. She never missed a chance to flaunt herself, to show off to the world how perfect she was. This would be his chance – the perfect opportunity to ruin her in every possible way.  

His rage bubbled up, hotter and hotter, until it consumed every thought, every fibre of his being. The anger had always been there, simmering just below the surface, but now it boiled over. All he could think about, all he could imagine, was fucking her lifeless throat in the ultimate act of triumph. The way he had done to others in the past. The thought made his cock throb, the desire so strong it nearly consumed him.  

But in Hell, killing wasn’t as easy as it had been in life. Here, death was temporary, a mere inconvenience. Killing her would be too easy, too quick. No, what he wanted – what he needed – was to humiliate her. To break her, to strip away her power, piece by piece, until she was nothing more than a quivering, broken shell below him.  

After all, she always called him a...what was it again? 

Ah, yes, a limp-dick jackass.  

A small chuckle escaped him. It was only polite to prove her wrong, wasn’t it? His hand drifted down to the front of his pants, clutching the throbbing erection straining against the fabric. His throat bobbed as he swallowed hard, desire thrumming through him. He hadn’t fucked anyone since coming to Hell – hadn't indulged in his darker urges because it required a specific set of circumstances to...perform.  

But tonight? 

Tonight, would be different. 

The thought of forcing her to choke on his cock, to make her gag and squirm as he held her down, made his blood pound with sick anticipation. He could already picture her tear-streaked face, the horror in her eyes. Fuck. He was going to make Killjoy his bitch tonight.  

Hell was a beautiful place. There were substances here, powerful enough to bend even the strongest wills, to strip away control and leave a person at the mercy of their darkest desires. Tom had nearly drained his entire bank account to get his hands on a potent love potion, an almost magical concoction that would ensure his plans went off without a hitch. He patted the vial in his pocket, his fingers brushing against the mini camcorder tucked safely in the other  

He would record everything. His glory, his victory.  

Tonight, Katie Killjoy would regret ever crossing him.  

He had realized belatedly that tonight's party was a costume party. He quickly went to the bargain store and purchased a costume that was the cheapest in stock.  

The costume was a joke, a cheap, pathetic imitation of the infamous Angel Dust – a popular porn star known for his exaggerated style and body. Tom stood in front of his cracked mirror, smearing pink glitter around his eyes to imitate the porn star’s extra set of eyes.  

His fingers clumsily mussed his hair forward to mimic Angel’s wild hairstyle, and he stuffed clumps of fluff into the front of his shirt, attempting to simulate the porn star’s chest fluff.  

But it was a miserable failure. The glitter clung to his sweat-slicked skin, making his gas mask look even more ugly, and the fluff drooped awkwardly, highlighting his lack of finesse. He looked nothing like Angel Dust, not even a distant shadow. He looked like one of the coked-up sinners that haunted Hell’s back alleys - dirty, unhinged, and desperate.  

It didn’t matter. The costume wasn’t for mingling or fitting in. He had a purpose tonight, a goal far glorious than simply attending a party for clout.  

The moment he stepped into the club, the assault on his senses was immediate. The air was thick with the stench of alcohol, cloying perfume, and the unmistakable musk of sex. Strobe lights flickered wildly, casting shifting shadows across the room, while the pounding music reverberated through the building, vibrating in his chest like a second heartbeat.  

Bodies writhed together in an unholy dance – mass orgies on the dance floor, groups of sinners tangled in a mess of limbs and moans. Some engaged in conversation, but the real action was the chaotic display of hedonistic desires playing right in front of him.  

Tom had never belonged to this world. Never been invited to these kinds of exclusive gatherings. But tonight was different. He had to be here, even if he stole the invitation. He belonged among the rich and powerful, didn’t he? He wasn’t just anyone; he was Tom Trench, co-host of 666 News, one of the most-watched channels in Hell’s entire pentagram.  

He mattered.  

Or at least, that’s what he told himself as he stepped deeper into the fray, heart pounding in time with the music, head swimming with thoughts of what he was about to do.  

“Like fuck, I can’t believe I lost that fucking invitation!” Killjoy’s shrill voice cut through the din like a knife, and Tom’s heart nearly leapt out of his chest. He froze, scanning the crowd, his pulse racing as he spotted her near the bar, surrounded by a gaggle of sycophants in miniskirts and plunging tops, all hanging on her every word. She was in her element, laughing cruelly, her lips smeared with that garish red lipstick she always wore.  

Without thinking, Tom ducked behind a couple in the midst of dry humping, their bodies pressed together, tongues tangled in an intense display of public lust. The sinner’s underwear was yanked down, their exposed cunt rubbing shamelessly against their partner’s thigh. It was disgusting, but it provided just enough cover for Tom to hide, pulling out his phone to pretend he was preoccupied. It was an old, outdated piece of junk – still paying it off, of course – but it gave him an excuse to eavesdrop without looking suspicious. 

“Like, the fucking bitch at the door gave me such a hard time just because I didn’t have my invitation on me! But you know what I told her?” Killjoy’s voice dripped with sadistic glee, her laugh high and piercing as her entourage leaned in. “I told her if she didn’t get me in, I’d get my buddies to fuck her! Hahaha!” She snorted as she placed her fingers against her chest. “And trust me, that bitch nearly killed herself after the last time they did!” 

The surrounding women cackled, their laughter cruel and shrill, tears of mirth streaming down their perfectly made-up faces. They clung to her every word, validating her, admiring her. Tom’s stomach churned with a mix of bitter envy and anger.  

He knew exactly who she was talking about – the girl at the door was her assistant. The poor girl had always looked frazzled, terrified, constantly on edge around Killjoy. He’d heard about the incident when the assistant accidentally spilled a latte on Killjoy’s suit. It had been hilarious at the time, watching Killjoy’s face turn an unnatural shade of red, her eyes blazing with fury.  

But he hadn’t known the full story. He hadn’t known just how far Killjoy’s cruelty had gone, punishing her assistant in ways too vile to even imagine. Her assistant wasn’t an animal, but Killjoy was. The standards were held different for bitches like her.  

A sense of delight buzzed in his veins. Killjoy, always so perfect, always so untouchable, reduced to tears. Black mascara running down her pale cheeks as her carefully constructed mask of control shattered.  

The weight of the drug in his pocket felt heavier with each passing moment. His fingers twitched, itching to take action, to make his fantasy a reality. He could already see it – the way she’d crumble, the way her pristine image would be ripped apart in front of everyone. He’d tear that tight little nurse outfit right off her, make her scream, make her sob, until she was nothing but a broken shell of herself. His cock stirred again at the thought, the heat of his anger blending with a delirious sense of arousal.  

Tonight, he’d make her remember his name.  

He’d make her fear it.  

As Tom surveyed the area, he noticed the almost empty drink in her hand, and he could almost see the perfect opportunity forming in his mind. The bar was just steps away from her – so easy, so simple. He could order her a drink, instruct the bartender to hand it over, and watch as his plan unfolded. He could already imagine her glossy lips parting, taking a sip, and then– 

His thoughts were shattered by a sudden invasive pressure – fingers pressed right up against his asshole. Tom jolted, spinning around in shock, his body stiffening as he came face-to-face with someone far more dangerous than he’d anticipated.  

Valentino.  

The moth demon towered over him, dressed in his usual flamboyant attire, pink smoke curling lazily from his pipe held between his lips. The scent of his hung heavy in the air, wrapping around them, the haze seeming to draw Tom deeper into his humiliation.  

“Angel!” Valentino’s voice slithered through the noise, loud enough to grab the attention of the surrounding sinners. His hand still lingered near Tom’s rear, possessive, like he owned everything in his reach.  

“It-it’s Tom, sir,” Tom stammered, the earlier confidence draining from him like the smoke from Valentino’s pipe. He felt small. Insignificant. The weight of Valentino’s presence crushed his resolve.  

“What?” Valentino’s eyes narrowed, peering through his pink sunglasses as he bent lower, inspecting Tom’s face. A look of disgust flashed across his features. “Ugh, fuck, you’re an ugly thing, aren’t you?” He sneered, his lips curling before a soft gag escaped his throat. “Didn’t the invitation say sexy costumes?” Valentino turned to one of the curvaceous sinners by his side, her barely there bikini leaving little to the imagination. She gave a playful smile, batting her long lashes as she nodded.  

Tom’s heart thundered in his chest, a chaotic mix of fear, awe, and admiration. Valentino – one of the Vees, one of the most powerful Overlords in Hell – was standing right before him. His earlier scheme to ruin Killjoy seemed to fade like smoke, replaced with a sharp, aching desire.  

He wanted to be them. 

The Vees were somebody.  

They were the apex, the ones everyone else either feared or envied.  

And Tom? Tom was just another face in the crowd. Just another nobody.  

“I-uh-” he stammered, his mouth dry, eyes wide as another stunning beauty approached Valentino, draping herself over his other arm. Tom could barely think straight. His heart raced, not just from fear, but from longing. If he could impress Valentino, cozy up to him, maybe he could be more. Maybe he could become the sole host of 666 News, instead of living in Killjoy’s shadow. The Vees controlled every channel in the Pentagram; if anyone had the power to make him a somebody, it was them.  

But Valentino wasn’t interested. Before Tom could finish his pitiful attempt at flattery, Valentino raised a hand, cutting him off with a look of pure indifferent. “Who are you?” Valentino asked, the question hanging in the air, icy and rhetorical. Tom’s mouth opened, but no sound came. He didn’t have a chance to answer before Valentino’s lips curled into a sneer, his voice dripping with contempt. “You’re some nobody.” 

The words hit like a slap to the face. Valentino’s posture oozed arrogance, his hips jutting out in lazy dominance. “Run along now,” he drawled, waving Tom off like a bug he’d grown tired of swatting.  

“You’re dismissed.” 

The two girls at his sides giggled, their eyes dancing with malicious amusement. They didn’t see him as anything more than a joke, a small man playing dress-up, trying to fit into a world that didn’t want him. Their laughter stabbed at Tom’s pride, each giggle a reminder of his insignificance. His fists clenched, nails digging into his palms as he tried to steady his breathing, but it felt like his chest was collapsing in on itself.  

His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, everything warped. His vision blurred, and suddenly, he wasn’t in the club anymore. He wasn’t under the judgmental gaze of Valentino and his entourage. No, he was somewhere else – somewhere familiar yet distant, like a half-forgotten dream. A memory surged forward, unbidden, like a hidden shard of glass surfacing from the depth of murky water.  

The memory, once a distant blur, came rushing back with brutal clarity, its edges sharper than a razor, slicing through his mind. Tom could see it – his brown, ratty, tattered shows, the leather peeling away like his last shred of dignity. Each step left bits of himself behind, dirt smeared across pristine floors that were never meant for the likes of him. His hands trembled, rubbing together compulsively, desperate, as if he could conjure up a miracle if just tried hard enough.  

Back then, he had been a janitor at a radio station. His cousin, always grinning with false hope, had promised him that if he worked hard enough, kept his head down, and grinded, maybe – just maybe – they'd give him a shot at stardom. A chance to be somebody.  

But that chance never came.  

Instead, he was left cleaning up after the real stars, scrubbing their messes while they laughed in the spotlight. His heart raced, a bitter rhythm that beat against the weight of the world collapsing around him.  

The Great Depression was in full swing – people starving, families dying in the streets. But Tom? No, Tom was going to be fine. He had been told to believe in the American dream. He had been told that hard work would pay off.  

So, every day, despite the mocking laughter, despite the whispers behind his back, he pushed forward. He had banked everything – his life, his hope – on the promise that effort would make him rise above the filth of the working class.  

But it was all a lie.  

“You’re dismissed,” his cousin had said, not even sparing a single glance up from his newspaper.  

Those two words echoed through his skull, twisting his stomach in knots. Those words were his ticket to eternal damnation, his invitation to the gutter. The world crumbled around him as they shattered the fragile dream he had clung to for so long. 

Those two words broke him.  

He had walked out into the street, the stench of death and rot filling the air. Those two words had stripped him of his humanity, left him hollow, a walking corpse, just another forgotten piece of garbage.  

He had stood over his cousin’s broken body, blood bubbling from the man’s lips, his last words choking on the truth that had haunted Tom his entire life: you’ll always be a nobody. Useless. Trash. 

Tom had once considered himself patient. A man who could endure. But now? As the anger from Killjoy’s mocking laughter seared into him, as Valentino’s cold dismissal stabbed through his chest, the final thread of sanity snapped.  

Valentino was long gone, already surrounded by his entourage. However, Tom stood there, giggling – a high-pitched, manic sound that rattled though his skull, masked by the pounding bass of the music.  

It was funny, wasn’t it? How life continued to fuck him, even in death. Every twist, every turn, the universe seemed to take pleasure in making him its joke. Always at the bottom, always overlooked, always discarded.  

His fingers brushed against the drug in his pocket, the weight of it pressing against his side like a reminder of what he could still do. His eyes, once burning with rage at Killjoy, shifted now. Slowly, they turned toward the tall, lanky figure lounging on a couch as if he owned the entire damn club. Valentino, with his heart-shaped glasses and that broad, sickening grin. His tongue flicked out, licking at the women draped over him like accessories, his arrogance oozing out from every pore.  

Valentino sat there like a king, surrounded by whores, drenched in the illusion of power. To him, everyone else was just a shadow, a worthless nobody.  

Just like Tom.  

It was disturbingly easy, how effortlessly Tom managed to slip the entire brew of the drug into Valentino’s drink. A drop or two was all it was supposed to take, but he didn’t care for caution. He dumped the whole flask, watching the light pink hue dissolve without a second thought. Maybe Valentino thought no one in Hell had the guts to spike his drink. Or maybe the Overlord was too arrogant to even consider the possibility.  

When Tom approached with the glass, Valentino barely spared him a glance, eyes glazed over with disdain as he reached for the drink. He gulped it down in one, not bothering to acknowledge Tom’s existence. But soon, his expression changed. Slowly, his head began to sway, and the surrounding whores giggled nervously, their hands caressing his arms as if their touch could stabilize him.  

Tom moved closer, stepping into the Overlord’s line of sight. Valentino’s eyes struggled to focus, a strange mix of clouding and desire clouding his features. “Angel!” he cried out, his voice slurring as his arms looped around Tom’s waist.  

It was laughably easy to guide Valentino into one of the club’s private rooms, the kind reserved for hard-core BDSM plays. Tom locked the door behind them, a metallic click that echoed through the dim room. Chains and leather straps adorned the walls, while flickering flames cast ominous shadows across the cold stone floor, licking the walls with an eerie glow. It was the perfect setting for what Tom had in mind.  

Valentino, completely unaware, had already begun undressing, his clothes falling in a careless heap on the floor. “Angel, baby,” he groaned, his voice heavy with lust and delirium. “I’ve been wanting to fuck your tight ass for weeks...how dare you make me wait, you ungrateful fucking whore.” His words slurred, muting the malicious tone. His body collapsed onto the bed with a graceless thud.  

Tom’s stomach twisted with a dark, sick pleasure. He didn’t care about the sex of his victims, never had. The only thing that mattered was that they were helpless. Weak. Prone. His arousal surged as Valentino lay before him, drugged and limp, a pitiful sight. His breath quickened, his pants already tightening around the hardness that pressed painfully against the fabric.  

Without a word, Tom moved to the restraints hanging on the walls, fingers brushing over the cold leather. He wanted to grin, to laugh, but the mask that had fused to his face, mocking hi for all eternity, prevented it.  

No matter.  

His actions spoke for him.  

Stripping out of the gaudy Angel Dust costume, he began to tie Valentino’s arms together with practised ease. He bound them tightly to the hook above the bed, pulling just enough to leave the Overlord’s body slightly suspended. Valentino’s lilac-shaded cock twitched pathetically with each touch, though it hung limp, his mind lost in the overwhelming effects of the drug.  

The apothecary had warned Tom – one drop was enough to drive a demon into mindless heat, to have them writhing in desperation. But a full vial? Tom’s pulse quickened, a thrill racing through him. He was going to find out.  

Valentino’s pink drool dribbled slowly from his parted lips, his head hanging uselessly as his arms stretched above him. The once-powerful Overlord now reduced to a puppet, limp and helpless. Tom’s breath hitched, his hand flying to his own hardened cock, slick with pre-cum as he gripped it tightly.  

Flashes of old memories flooded his mind – victims, squirming in panic, tied up in his gas-filled room. The smell of fear, the way their eyes widened when they saw him in his gas mask, breathing heavily as he watched them. The way they begged for mercy, their words cut off as the gas took over, silencing them just as they had silenced him when they mocked, dismissed, and belittled him.  

Those were the glory days.  

Short, fleeting, but glorious, nonetheless.  

And now? Now, here he was again, a nobody with the power to make someone else feel the same helplessness he had endured for far too long. Valentino would suffer, not through fear but through humiliation. He would be just another victim in Tom’s long line of revenge.  

“Augh,” Valentino moaned, his voice thick with lust and confusion as his cock slowly stiffened, pink drool spilling from his slack mouth, rolling down his chest in a glistening trail. His body, once the epitome of control and power, now hung limp, betrayed by the very pleasure coursing through him.  

Tom set the camcorder up at the foot of the bed, his movements methodical, driven by the sick sense of satisfaction. This recording – this proof – would be his victory. Even if it didn’t serve a purpose beyond his own personal gratification, he knew that watching Valentino’s humiliation again and again would feed him, satiate his hunger, for a very long time.  

Slowly, he stripped off his clothes, his cock hard and throbbing, standing proud as he climbed onto the bed. The feeling of control, of domination, filled him, and it was intoxicating.  

It was magnificently glorious.  

“So, who’s the powerless, weak nobody now?” Tom sneered, his voice low as he hovered above Valentino, his cock bobbing just in front of the Overlord’s face. The rush of power was exhilarating, a heady feeling that made him feel invincible.  

But then, Valentino stirred, his body twitching before a sputter of laughter escaped his lips, deep and mocking. Tom’s confidence wavered as Valentino’s grating laugh pierced through his triumph, hitting the nerves like nails on a chalkboard.  

“What the fuck is this?” Valentino squinted up at tom, a wide, sloppy grin spreading across his face. “Angel, when did your dick get so tiny?” His laughter grew louder, more malicious. “Unless...is that your pinky finger I’m seeing?” He leaned forward as if trying to get a closer look at Tom’s erect cock, eyes sparkling with cruel amusement.  

Shame and embarrassment coursed through Tom as he stumbled backward, his breath catching in his throat. He glanced down at Valentino’s half-hard cock, massive even in its lips state, and a wave of humiliation crashed over him. Five times bigger, Tom thought, feeling the sting of comparison tear at his earlier bravado. His own erection faltered, the shame creeping in like poison, each pulse of Valentino’s laughter eroding at his fragile sense of ego and power.  

Clenching his fists until his nails dug into his palms, Tom fought to steady himself. “Size isn’t everything,” he spat bitterly, but the words tasted hollow. Valentino groaned, his head lolling from side to side as more saliva dribbled from his lips, the effects of the drug thickening in his veins. His cock, now fully erect, throbbed, pre-cum leaking in thick ropes down his shaft.  

“Fuck,” Valentino slurred, his voice barely coherent as his body twitched, trying to regain control. “What the fuck is going on?” His arms, bound above him, were the only thing keeping him from collapsing entirely, his strength drained by the overwhelming pleasure and the drug burning through him.  

Tom’s gaze flicked toward the drawer by the bed. His fingers grazed over the various sex toys within. His eyes landed on a thin metal rod with a circular-shaped handle at the end, its surfaced pocked with rust and decay. He had seen it used in some of the darker porn he’d watched – sounding, they called it. A flutter of amusement pulsed within him as he pulled it out, running his thumb over the rough, ridged surface.  

“Let’s just stop that little leak of yours, Val,” Tom muttered, his tone mockingly sweet as he returned to the bed. “I can call you that, right?” Valentino only groaned, lost in his delirium, and Tom chuckled darkly. The drug had Valentino completely at his mercy, his once-mighty form reduced to a quivering, incoherent mess.  

Tom’s fingers trailed down the length of Valentino’s shaft, feeling the heat radiating from it, the way it pulsed under his touch. The second his skin made contact; Valentino screamed – an animalistic sound that bounced off the wall. His hips jerked upward, pre-cum splattering everywhere, coating Tom’s hand and chest in sticky droplets.  

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Valentino cursed, his voice breaking as his body writhed in overstimulation, muscles tensing and flexing uncontrollably. His thighs quivered, his breaths coming in short, ragged gasps. The sound of his whimpers – those small, pathetic cries – sent a shiver down Tom’s spine. He had never seen someone so powerful reduced to this, lost in a haze of pleasure so intense it bordered on agony.  

With a sadistic thrill pumping in his veins, Tom gripped Valentino’s cock in one hand, holding it steady. Valentino hissed at the contact, his body arching as if trying to escape the sensation. Unexpectedly, Tom positioned Valentino’s cock, the gaping slit already covered with pre-cum.  

And then, without hesitation, Tom drove the metal rod in, all at once.  

The scream that tore from Valentino’s throat was primal, a raw howl that reverberated off the stone walls. His body convulsed violently, arms straining against the restraints as he thrashed in pain. Blood mixed with the clear fluid, dripping in thick rivulets from the slit of his cock, staining the sheet below them.  

As Tom shoved the metal sounding deeper with brutal force, he disregarded the way Valentino’s cock strained and trembled under the intrusion. The tension, the sickening resistance of flesh yielding and ripping to cold steel, sent a thrill through Tom’s spine.  

Valentino’s pure, pained cries echoed like music to his ears, and for the first time in ages, Tom felt a rush of arousal so fierce it made him light-headed. His body thrummed with sadistic excitement, the sound of his own hissing breaths the only counterpoint to Valentino’s sobbing gasps.  

Tom’s hips jerked forward in short, uncontrolled strokes, his cock twitching as he focused solely on driving the sounding to its limit, down to the very hilt. His eyes roved over the sight with a ravenous hunger, his lips parting in a soft groan of pleasure as crimson droplets continued to well up from Valentino’s tip, the blood slowly trailing down the length of his shaft like delicate ribbons decorating a sacrificial altar. The contrast of the vivid red against the pale lilac skin was picturesque – it was art. 

Panting heavily, he finally released the device, sitting back on his heels as he admired his handiwork. Valentino’s face was a portrait of agony – tears streaming freely down his flushed cheeks, mixing with the pink drool that spilled from his slack mouth. His hips jerked in weak, pathetic thrusts, as though his body still sought relief despite the pain, fucking the air with an almost automatic, broken rhythm.  

“F-fuck...fuck...” Valentino’s voice cracked, a barely coherent string of words that failed to form any real protest. His expression was glazed, trapped somewhere between torment and lust, his mind a shattered mess.  

The sight of the powerful Overlord reduced to this wreck of a man – a trembling, crying, pathetic mess at Tom's mercy – sent a dark wave of satisfaction within him. His cock, already aching, hardened even more, throbbed in time with his racing heart.  

Without thinking, Tom’s hand flew to his shaft, gripping it tight as he began to stroke with wild desperation. His moans mixed with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet, obscene noise heightening his arousal. His gaze stayed on Valentino’s cock, still leaking blood in profuse streams, the tip a monstrous, crimson, puffy spectacle that fuelled the fire roaring in Tom’s gut  

Faster.  

Harder.  

His breath hitched, muscles tensing as the coil in his stomach tightened, winding tighter and tighter until it was almost unbearable. He could feel it – the edge drawing closer, and with a growl, he pushed himself to his feet, staggering forward to position himself above Valentino’s tear-streaked face.  

“You should know this routine, Val. You fucking love money shots,” Tom growled through gritted teeth, his hand a blur as he pumped his cock furiously. The slick sound of his strokes filled the room, building with every desperate gasp.  

His mind went white-hot as the climax finally crashed into him. With a pure, unfiltered, guttural moan, Tom let his head fall back, hips jerking as ropes of thick, hot cum shot from him, painting Valentino’s face in sticky white streaks. The droplets splattered across his cheeks, some landing on his pink-tinted glasses, smearing across the lenses like a filthy mark of ownership.  

But it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.  

Tom stood there for a moment, chest heaving, his hand still loosely wrapped around his cock, but the hunger in him refused to face. His cock still twitched, still begged for more. He wasn’t done yet. He couldn’t be done. Not with Valentino laid out before him like this, vulnerable and broken. This was an opportunity too good to waste – a chance to push Valentino past the edge of despair and into true ruin.  

He turned toward the nearby box of toys again. His eyes, scanning the contents, glittering with sadistic glee as they fell upon a box of sharp acupuncture pins. Ideas blossomed in his mind, twisted, fragile, and beautiful. He grabbed them without hesitation, already envisioning the next stage of pleasure.  

When he stood and looked back, his grin only widened. Valentino was trembling, his body spasming uncontrollably as thick white cum, tinged with red streaks, leaked from the tip of his still-throbbing cock. The sight of it sent a rush of heat through Tom’s veins – Valentino had come despite it all, despite the pain.  

The bastard had found release, however fleeting.  

“Fucking hell, Val...you already came?” Tom muttered, amusement lacing his words as he stalked closer. But no matter – it wasn’t over yet. The drug coursing through Valentino’s veins would ensure that he stayed rock-hard, no matter how much he came. His body wouldn’t stop, wouldn’t find release, not until every drop of that drug was purged from his system.  

And Tom planned to take full advantage of that.  

Sitting back in front of Valentino, Tom let a slow, dark hum escape him, the haunting melody echoing a distant memory from his past. Valentino’s broken murmurs finally reached his ears, soft, slurred words that barely made sense. “Please...no more...please,” followed by a hoarse, trembling, “it fucking hurts.” 

Tom’s breath grew ragged, his heart hammering in his chest as excitement spread through his veins like wildfire. After years of being stepped on, spat on, and treated as less than nothing, here, presently, with Valentino sobbing and powerless before him, Tom had never felt so alive, so untouchable, dominant.  

“Val, you’re disappointing me,” Tom taunted, his voice dripping with mock sympathy as his fingers hovered over the sharp pin. The beaded end reflected from the dim light, each end adorned with a bright array of blues, reds, and yellows. Slowly, almost reverently, he positioned the pointed end against the side of Valentino’s shaft, savouring the way the soft skin quivered beneath his touch.  

Then, mercilessly, he pushed.  

The pointed edge pierced the delicate flesh easily, sinking in like a hot knife through butter. 

“Ah-ah-ahhhhhhh!” Valentino’s scream tore through the room, his body convulsing weakly, as if trying to escape the pain. But it was futile – the drug coursing through his veins kept him paralyzed, a prisoner to his own body, left to writhe under Tom’s sadistic whims.  

Tom’s high-pitched giggles burst out as he pushed the pin further, watching intently as the sharp glinting metal disappeared, blood welling up around the wound before spilling into crimson rivulets down Valentino’s cock.  

The bead rested at the base, nestled against the taut skin, a small, bright mark of Tom’s handiwork – his – ah – gift. Valentino’s agony was palpable, his cries a broken record that sent shivers of pleasure down Tom’s spine. 

“We’ll play a little game, Val,” Tom purred, his voice low and dripping with dark intent. His cock throbbed, standing fully erect, aching for release again as he admired the sight before him. Valentino’s tear-streaked face, the faint glimmer of cum still clinging to the rose-tinted lenses of his glasses – it was a masterpiece of suffering.  

“Tell me what my name is, and I’ll stop decorating your cock,” he groaned, his gaze fixating on the sounding protruding from Valentino’s urethra, the tip slowly oozing out fresh blood.  

Valentino’s breath hitched as his swollen, tear-filled eyes flicked up toward Tom, but his mind was a haze of torment. “I...I don’t know...” His voice was broken, his words thick and heavy, each syllable a struggle to form as his tongue lolled out between each breath.  

“Well, that’s a shame,” Tom replied brightly, a cruel smirk tugging at his lips. Without hesitation, he reached for another pin, this time a bright blue one. With practised ease, he slid it into Valentino’s flesh, revelling in the fresh wave of agonized cries that filled the warm, musky air. The cries fuelled Tom, his hand drifting back to his own cock, stroking slowly, deliberately, as he watched Valentino’s face contort in suffering.  

“I - fuck...Paul?” Valentino sobbed, weakly thrashing against the binds. His body trembled like a leaf in the wind.  

“Wrong again,” Tom whispered, voice drenched with satisfaction. His arousal mounted with every scream; every helpless sob, Valentino gave. It was intoxicating, the way each pin drove Valentino further into the depths of agony. “Ah, fuck...” Tom groaned, his grip tightening around his cock as he pushed the next pin in, his mind lost in the perverse pleasure of it all.  

It was almost tragic – really, how easily Valentino had forgotten his name, as if the pain had burned away every memory. Tom’s gaze darkened as he picked up the last pin in the small pouch, a red one this time, and drove it deep into the only remaining space into Valentino’s shaft.  

The result was hauntingly beautiful. The pins, bright beads of colour, embedded deep into his bleeding cock, turned the once-proud organ into something...festive. The crimson blood oozed from the wounds, staining Valentino’s balls and the sheets beneath him in a macabre display.  

“For being such a good boy, how about I reward you, Val?” Tom cooed, his voice sickly sweet, his heart beating frantically as he heard the faint, hoarse whispers of “no” spilling from Valentino’s lips. But Tom had already made up his mind. His eyes couldn’t tear away from the oversized sparkly pink dildo standing proudly by the bedside table.  

It was a monstrosity, the size of Valentino’s forearm, a brutal weapon of destruction that could easily tear someone apart. The girth alone was enough to ruin anyone permanently.  

Straining, Tom grasped the oversized dildo, the artificial scent of manufactured plastic sharp in his nostrils. With a firm shove of Valentino’s shoulder, his body was forced forward. Valentino hissed in agony as his raw, bloodied cock made contact with the rough bedsheet, another strangled cry of desperation filling the room.  

“Please...no more,” Valentino whimpered, his voice a broken whisper lost to the air.  

Tom, unmoved, set the dildo down on the bed beside them. He leaned over, pressing a finger to Valentino’s trembling lips, shushing him softly. Without warning, he gripped Valentino’s narrow waist, lifting his limp, rag-doll body off the bed. He positioned Valentino’s trembling form over the massive toy, resting the tip of the monstrous cock right against Valentino’s tight ring of muscle.  

“Fuck, no! No!” Valentino’s cries were frantic now, his voice hoarse with panic. “I’ll do whatever you want, anything – please, I’ll give you anything, just – please,” his spittle flew, and drool leaked into a stringy goop of mess.  

But Tom didn’t care. His mind was lost in the ecstasy of the moment, the thrill of control that made his pulse quicken and his cock throb. The sight of Valentino’s body trembling on the brink of being impaled, the helplessness in his eyes, only heightened Tom’s desire. His urge to stroke himself into oblivion gnawed at him, but he forced himself to savour this moment.  

With deliberate calm, Tom stood behind Valentino, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder as though he were offering comfort. He took a slow, deep breath, leaning close. “Relax, Val...it’ll feel good,” he whispered, pressing the side of his face with Valentino’s. “For me, that is,” he finished with a cruel laugh, before he suddenly slammed Valentino down onto the dildo.  

The reaction was immediate. Valentino’s screams were ripped from his throat, his voice breaking into a guttural wheeze as his body convulsed in agony. His ass, unprepared and unable to accommodate the sheer size of the dildo, stretched obscenely around it. Tom’s grip on Valentino’s hips was unrelenting as he forced him lower, ignoring the frantic, incoherent pleas spilling from his lips. Valentino begged, over and over, but Tom’s focus never wavered.  

Slowly, inch by agonizing inch, Valentino’s body was pushed further down, the monstrous toy rearranging his insides. Tom shivered with sick satisfaction as he watched the bulge begin to form in Valentino’s lower belly, the outline of the dildo distending his thin frame. The sight was glorious, obscene, the kind of thing that made Tom’s cock throb with unbearable need.  

With a hoarse, broken cry, Valentino’s cock spasmed violently. A messy burst of semen erupting from the tip, spraying onto the sheets as his lolled backward in a mix of unbearable pain and cruelly forced pleasure. His entire body shook, trembling like a newborn calf, but still, Tom paid no mind to his suffering. His only focus was on forcing Valentino to take the full length of the dildo, every, damning inch.  

“Aren’t I such a generous partner, Val?” Tom’s voice was light, almost teasing, as Valentino’s body finally sank to the hilt, his entire lower half impaled on the dildo. “You told me my cock wasn’t enough for you, so I got you something better. Aren’t you grateful?”  

“Anything,” Valentino muttered weakly, tears streaming down his cheeks, his voice barely a whisper. “I’ll tell you anything...anything...” His words were slurred, trembling, lost in the haze of agony and fear. His lower half was a horrific mess of blood and cum, staining both his skin and the bedsheets.  

Tom scoffed, shaking his head. “Sure, Val. Tell me something...something no one else knows.” He knelt down in front of Valentino, his cock hard and leaking, pressing the length of it against Valentino’s mutilated, beaded shaft. Valentino let out a sharp hiss of pain, the movement sending a fresh wave of agony through him as Tom slowly rubbed his cock along Valentino’s smearing the mix of blood and cum across his skin.  

Gripping the sounding still embedded in Valentino’s urethra, Tome began to move it with a slow, deliberate motions, tugging it up and down as Valentino’s sobs grew louder, more pitiful. “Go on,” Tom panted, his breath hitching as he felt the edge of his cock brush against the smooth end of the beaded tip. “Tell me...” he moaned, his eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure build inside him, the sensation of Valentino’s mutilated, swollen shaft heightening every stroke.  

Valentino could only sob harder, his body trembling uncontrollably as Tom’s cruel, taunting touch brought him closer to the edge of madness. Tom’s breath quickened, his moans becoming louder, more guttural, as he lost himself in the feel of Valentino’s bloodied flesh pressed right up again him.  

“We-we’re planning to a-attack the Princess of Hell’s hotel next w-week,” Valentino stuttered, his voice trembling with fear and pain. “W-we have an army...ngh...equipped with...hah...” His words faltered as Tom recklessly pulled the sounding halfway out of his cock, before thrusting it back in with a sickening squelch. Valentino gasped, choking on his words as a thick bubble of blood oozed from the tip. “A-angelic s-steel,” he finally managed to wheeze, his mouth hanging open, drool and snot mingling and dribbling down his chin.  

Tom’s hand paused. The words barely registered – he couldn’t care less about some redemption hotel. It held absolutely zero interest to him. Still, this was information the Vees clearly kept close to their chest, and it might be useful later. He could figure out how to capitalize on it later tonight. For now, his gaze fell back on Valentino’s wrecked face, streaked with tears and fluids, eyes wide in terror and agony. The moment of truth was upon him.  

It was time to burst through the cocoon of suffocating oppression, and chase his own glorious release.  

With a sharp, brutal yank, Tom pulled the sounding free. Valentino’s body convulsed, a violent spasm wracking him and his pained moans barely audible.  

Tom groaned, feeling his own need swell within him. He gripped both their cocks, pressing them together, his hand sliding up and down their lengths as he ground against Valentino’s swollen, purple shaft.  

Valentino let out another broken sob as the pin buried in his cock shifted, the pressure causing his member to turn an even deeper shade of purple. His cock pulsed painfully as Tom quickened his pace, chasing the edge of his orgasm.  

“Oh fuck...fuck,” Tom panted, the wet squelching sound of their cocks sliding together filling the room alongside Valentino’s pitiful, broken whimpers. With one final hard thrust, Tom let out a low, guttural moan, his body seizing in pleasure as thick ropes of cum erupted from his cock, painting Valentino’s limp, bloodied body. His seed splattered across Valentino’s sweat-slick chest, mixing with the blood and cum staining his swollen cock.  

Panting heavily, Tom finally collapsed backward, his body spent, his cock softening as the heady, addicting sensation of pleasure washed over him. He hadn’t felt this kind of pure, unadulterated pleasure in decades. His body felt light, like a weight had been lifted from his soul.  

He glanced down at Valentino’s face – his red eyes were blown wide open, but they had lost all focus, glazed over in shock and exhaustion. His tongue hung limply from the side of his mouth, his body completely still, suspended from the ceiling by the ropes binding him. Even now, after countless brutal releases, Valentino’s cock remained comically hard, the veins bulging angrily against his abused skin.  

It looked like the moth Overlord had finally reached his breaking point. Valentino was hanging their unconscious, barely breathing, his body slack and lifeless. Tom couldn’t help the satisfied smile that tugged at his lips.  

Valentino made such a handsome, tragic painting like this – strung up, covered in a mixture of blood and cum. Tom took a long moment to admire the scene, grateful he had captured every beautiful detail with his camcorder. This was a memory he would savour for a very long time.  

It was a show he would watch over and over again.  

With a final glance at Valentino’s broken, beautiful form, Tom took his time getting dressed, slipping his shirt back on as he pocketed the camcorder. As he exited the room, he could still hear the pulsing beat of music from the club. No one would notice what had transpired – everyone was far too lost in their own indulgence, high and drunk, as the sound of moans and cries of ecstasy filled the air from the mass orgy happening just down the hall.  

Tom slipped his hands into his pockets, humming a small, contented tune as he left the clubroom, felling more alive than he had...ever.  

Once the haze of his high started to fade, his mind sharpened, and he remembered the information Valentino had spilled. Taking out a burner phone, Tom extracted the audio of Valentino’s confession, his broken voice detailing the Vees’ plans to attack the hotel. With a smirk, he sent the audio file to the head of Voxtek with a brief message: 

“It would be a shame if this got leaked to the public.” 

It didn’t take long. Within seconds, a reply appeared on his phone from the head-honcho himself: 

“Name your price.” 

Tom stared at the neat, blocky text on the screen, his mind racing with unlimited potential. He knew the power the Overlords held – one wrong move, and they could easily snuff him out like a flickering candle. But if he played his cards right, if he handled this just carefully enough... 

A small, manic laugh bubbled up from his throat, his fingers digging into his mask – his face – as the realization hit him.  

Finally.  

Finally.  

Finally. 

He was going to be a somebody. 

Follow #vexitober 2024 to read my questionable kink/fluff stories!

End Note: This was by far the darkest piece of fanfiction I've written with explicit sexual violence. I generally stay away from writing this genre because it is emotionally draining and I wasn't sure if I could write it well - or handle it with care.

The main point of this story isn't for sexual gratification - it was about Tom who had been beaten down all his life and finally found some semblance of control and power through the act of despicable sexual acts/torture. I wanted to convey that feeling and my intention is not to fetishize it.

All in all, it was a cathartic experience to write someone crazy and unhinged and let my imagination let loose.

[inkedells]

dub/non-con joel x f!reader drabble? sorry if this is too much i just need some toxic asf joel rn 😵‍💫

A/N: HUGEEE CW!! intense non-con featuring joel. he says and does a lot of alarming things here. there's blood and guns and toxicity in general. last warning, DEAD DOVE DO NOT EAT!!!!

mdni!!! fr guys. | requests open but replies not guaranteed.

You moaned.

And you shouldn’t have, because you didn’t want this. Or at least you thought you didn’t; You did scream when Joel removed his gun from the confines of his belt, proceeding to hold the gun to your temple as his other hand yanked your jeans down to your knees and began playing with your pussy. “Better start enjoying yourself darlin’, because I’m takin’ my sweet, sweet time.”

And you did attempt to bite his hand when it found its way to your jaw, prying it open with his fingers and gripping it like a handle. “Go ahead,” he laughed, “Try telling me to stop now.” 

And yes, you stomped on his foot the minute he decided you just made way too much fuckin’ noise and shoved you downwards until your knees buckled, hands twisting in your hair as he pushed your face against his confined dick, using your face the same way a teenage boy would fuck his mattress. “Look a’you. Reduced to my fuck toy.”

His consequent smirk made your blood boil.

But, now, with his gun in your mouth as he fucked you deep and hard and fast, you felt wetness rolling down your inner thigh, and you worried it was your arousal. He’ll know I'm enjoying myself.

You didn’t know it was your blood dripping from your pussy, an effect of his brutal pace and unrelenting desire to feel himself bulge in your belly, until Joel swiped a finger through the blood to show you before bringing it to his own mouth.

“See, baby? I’m a gentleman, I clean up the messes I leave behind.” 

-

-

-

if you enjoyed please remember to like and especially reblog! it's sososo appreciated!

[tamas-love]

（ 제목 ）THINKING ABOUT.. BEST-FRIEND!SUNOO.

PRESENT.⠀⟡​⠀best friend sunoo thoughts.

（ 선우 ） — pairing = fem!reader x best-friend!sunoo ୨୧ warning = none, just cutie sunoo and charms~ ୨୧ no count.

a/n : for my pookie @uoalirie BUT also for anon !! instead of a one-shot i just did points.. remember to reblog, like, and ask for more!!

click me! ↓

best-friend!sunoo who you first met in the hallway on your way to class, he asked you where the music room was--and since you were on your way there he followed you. best-friend!sunoo who began to sit with you at lunch because you two had the same schedules, sometimes buying you snacks from the vending machine. best-friend!sunoo who always went to the nail salon with you just to sit there and talk the whole time you're getting your nails done, as well as being the one who picks your nail design. best-friend!sunoo who you told all your crushes about and he rated them on a 1-10 scale. best-friend!sunoo who was also your wingman and always tried to get you with your crushes if he thought they were good enough for you. best-friend!sunoo who you had study session with that lasted til late at night and early in the morning, and when you two realized the time you'd quickly get to bed and join in an (platonic) snuggle together, listening to asmr to fall asleep. best-friend!sunoo who you gossiped with on the way to school/class, and when the tea was right behind you sunoo would scream "fuck no!" and run off with you. best-friend!sunoo who took you to the rooftop at lunch after your boyfriend broke up with you because he knew you didn't want to cry in front of people, and always offered you tissues and his hoodie for your comfort. best-friend!sunoo who helped you dye your hair blonde after you got over the breakup, and to not make you feel embarrassed for showing up at school blonde, he'd dye his own to match yours (secretly to surprise you). best-friend!sunoo who sat with you on the coach bus on your way to the field trip destination so you could sit by the window and cuddle his arm comfortably, as well as so you two could eat (big backs) and watch dramas. best-friend!sunoo who (even though he's a boy) kept a few pads in his bag just in case you have an emergency, and when blood leaks through your skirt he always wraps his sweater around your waist to cover it up. best-friend!sunoo who had his wallet on him at ALL times when he was around you, knowing that when an ice cream truck pops up you two are running like biggies. (the only biggie here is ME for that shaved ice i'm running fr) best-friend!sunoo who, for prom, set you up with his homeboy who you liked and scored you a date. after prom, sunoo saw you two in the hall making out and quickly minded his business instead of butting in to get you home.. "yeah.. he'll get her home." he brushed it off, running away (not wanting to deal with ALLAT love.) best-friend!sunoo who you came to, sobbing your tears out after seeing a sad puppy story. in which, he had to comfort you and tell you that it's not real because why the fuck was the dog talking?? (your dumbass believed it) best-friend!sunoo who you went to the mall with, skipping around stores and buying all the matching pajamas. best-friend!sunoo who, one day, invited you over to his house on the day of your birthday and surprised you with a big birthday party after ignoring you and acting annoyed with you the whole day. of course, you were crying in the school bathroom after he ignored you so to make up, he fed you cake and let you open your presents. best-friend!sunoo who you graduated with at the top of your grade, you being the valedictorian and sunoo being salutatorian, and even while you two were going to two seperate colleges, still managed to be the ultimate power duo and meet up every weekend!

© tamas-love on tumblr, © tamas-love on wattpad ㅤㅤ𓈒ㅤㅤ𓈒 taglist open.⠀⦂ ⠀@nheyri , @uoalirie , @moonpri , @minaz-luv

[biibini]

Could you possibly write hcs for Mizu properly introducing reader to her adoptive father for the first time??? I'm curious as to how that would play out :3

modern!mizu x reader meets eiji for the first time

tags: modern mizu, mizu & reader in relationship, meeting the parents trope, meeting the parent?, eiji is mizu’s adopted father, kohama is staged around the pacific northwest, heidi shindo &blood-soaked chiaki mentioned, TW: m*k*o, author needs to eat before she writes

a/n: ok for some reason i cant edit my drafts on my phone bc of gifs :( ima get thru these asks fr,, hope yall like the show references teehee

when u and modern!mizu first got together, u guys figured u would take it slow

it was mizu’s first relationship out of a toxic one

and u didn’t mind the slow pace

going on dates, hanging out, relaxing together

it was a blast

until one day u guys were out downtown, having a lil cafe date

and one of eiji’s clients recognized mizu as u hopped on the back of her motorcycle, zooming off to get lunch

modern!mizu ends up getting an unexpected phone call from her adopted dad

they keep in touch every few days

but she had just called him yesterday

Mizu was lying on her bed, scrolling through her phone. Her homework lies on her desk, ready to be done.

She groans in frustration and gently throws the phone down.

Ok, enough scrolling. Let’s get shit done-

Her phone starts to vibrate. Mizu flips the phone to spot the contact name “Swordfather”. The contact name is paired with a 0.5 selfie of him winning against Mizu. It continued to vibrate on Mizu's bed.

That’s odd. I just called him yesterday.

“Hey dad, whats up?”, Mizu answer.

“Who’s in the back of your bike?”, he yells into the phone.

“How- who- what are you talking-“

“Mr. Shindo come to me earlier today.” He starts, stern and loud, “He say he saw you with girl behind you on bike.”

Mr. Shindo was a regular at Eiji’s Repair Shop ever since Mizu was young. A man with temper and sass, he only trusted Eiji with his services. But with sass came a lot of gossip. Mizu wouldn’t believe the amount of drama happening the neighborhood if it wasn’t for Mr.Shindo’s loud mouth.

“Ok dad, I know it’s a girl but-“

“And he say he saw you hold hands! And drive off?!”, Eiji yelled with concern.

Mizu never really heard him this loud. There was the occasional disagreement and arguments about the Sunday game or who’s cooking for dinner. It was just banter at the most.

When Mizu told him about Mikio and why she left him & all his problems, he stayed calm and silent. Not many words were said when she admitted everything he did during the relationship. But it was comforting to know that her adopted dad was there, quietly listening to her sobs at the dining table.

“I know it’s not a guy but-“

“Guy, girl I do no care. Who is she?”

Mizu was stunned. Yeah, her dad’s English wasn’t the best but his words hit deep. The only time he pulled out the “I don’t care” in her lifetime was a foul customer.

A man by the name of Chiaki was on his knees close to closing hours, begging on his knees for Eiji to fix his motorcycle in hopes to make it faster. After constant days of his begging and pleading during open & closing, Eiji took it into his shop. After countless days of watching her dad attempt to fix the customer’s bike, Chiaki started criticizing and called him an “decrepit old man unable to fix shit”. Mizu wanted to rock his shit but her dad stopped her before she could.

“I may be old, but I do no care. Leave with your piece of shit you call a bike.”, Eiji said as Chiaki sped off, flipping the bird as he sent off.

"Mizu? You there?, Eiji asks. Mizu snaps back to reality.

"Yeah?"

"You tired of guys now, ha?"

Mizu scoffed, laughing at the unexpected response. She hears a hearty chuckle through the phone.

"Yeah yeah.", Mizu sighs in relief, "She's my girlfriend. Her name is Y/N.", Mizu answered, a blush blooming on her face.

"Ah good. Next time you come home, bring her. I'll make my barbeque special.", Eiji says lightheartedly.

Mizu's eyes lit up. It had been a while since she visited home. And to be greeted with the smell of her dad's honey BBQ baby back ribs and juicy prime rib? Yeah, she was sold.

"I will. I'll let you know when I'll visit."

"And Mizu?"

"Yes, Dad?"

"She take good care of you?", he asks in a concerned tone.

MIzu smiles, knowing the slow burn of confusion, hatred, and rage he witnessed over the many years. He was present during her silent middle school self, her angsty & stubborn teenage years, and her confused & rage-filled self during her previous relationship.

She looks at the wall where a photobooth strip of you two hung. It was during one of your exploring the city dates when you two found a vintage photo booth. A little dusty but it did the job of capturing you two together.

"Yes. Yes, she does, dad."

later that week, u get a text msg from mizu asking if u are free for the weekend

thinking it was another weekend date, u clear out ur schedule

and then she texts u its ab coming home w her for the weekend and see her dad

this was kinda out of nowhere

it rlly threw u off

it has been a few months now...

so yk what

maybe it is time u say hi

that friday u get on her motorcycle and ride to her hometown

its only an hr out but seeing the change from a college town to a smaller town felt like another world

You feel the motorcycle slow down as you head towards the exit. The wind calms down as you pass by the welcome sign to Kohama. As you go down the exit, you look out. Down below is a winding path to the seaside town. The town hangs next to a cliff. From your point of view, you could spot the deep blue ocean shimmers as Mizu takes you down the road.

She goes at a slower pace, taking in the familiar sights she left behind: the tall pine trees, a long coastline as far as the eye can see, and boulders scattering the beaches every once in a while. She rolls up to a stop sign and lifts her visor up.

"Smells like home."

You mimic her motions, lifting yours as well. The faint scent of sea salt mixed with the cool breeze from the ocean.

With both of you refreshed, Mizu continued along the path towards the middle of town.

u guys roll into her neighborhood

the houses share a similar bungalow-style

only changing in shades of color

however, something caught ur eye

well

more like ur nose

the smell of sweet barbeque caught ur attention

mizu immediately knew it was her dad cooking it up

meeting modern!mizu’s dad aka swordfather was a lil awkward

when u first arrived, he was busy in the back barbecuing and taking care of the dinner tonight

so u didnt meet him until u fully entered the house

hes busy in the back barbequing

and he does see u but the only thing he knows ab u is that ur dating his daughter

“Dad?”, Mizu calls through the house. You follow her footsteps down the hallway. She then opens the backdoor at the end, the midday shining into the hallway.

The sun blinds you for a second. You see a growing backyard with bushes aligning the fence. Tucked in the corner lied a storage shed surrounded by bikes and a few spare tires. Next to the shed is a grill in use, smoke coming out of the vent.

“I’m here Mizu.” An elderly voice called, his back facing you.

He turns around, a faint pout on his face. His eyes squinting from the harsh midday sun.

“You bring girlfriend?”

Mizu grins at her dad’s comment. She looks back at you and softly grabs your hand, pulling you next to her.

“This is Y/N.”

You smiled, waving at Mizu’s father. You know he’s not a bad guy, just a badass through Mizu’s stories of back home. However, you’re still anxious underneath your pleasing demeanor.

“Hi, it’s nice to meet you.”

You look up to meet his gaze. Old, tired eyes stare back. Stern but not mean or cruel. Amiable. You could only wonder how much wisdom he has behind those eyes.

“Nice to meet you. I am Eiji.”

He waves back, awkwardly smiling as he tends to the grill. The interaction had a striking similarity to when you first met Mizu: cordial, dry, and a little awkward.

Like father, like daughter, you suppose.

after introducing urself, mizu lets eiji cook

(LET HIM COOK ‼️‼️)

when ur making sides together in the kitchen, he gets a glimpse of how u guys act together

and he watches u help mizu make the sides like mac & cheese, baked potatoes, biscuits, and stir fried green beans

typically, he would be helping her cook

but seeing u help her mix the macaroni

and mizu helping u cut the green beans

hes a proud man and feels safe knowing mizu is ok

when mizu pops into the bathroom, he checks in on the cooking

You put on the red and blue mitts and carefully place the mac and cheese into the oven. You feel the fiery heat of the oven against your forearms.

“How is cooking going?”

You close the oven and look behind to find Eiji. You nod in response.

“It’s going good! We’re almost done.”, you say as you move to the side. He gets a view of your work with Mizu: a plate of stir fried garlic string beans with crispy fried onions, a stack of baked potatoes along with bowls of toppings portioned by Mizu, Red Lobster cheddar bay biscuits, and the max and cheese that’s currently baking.

“Thank you for inviting me over and letting me stay.”, you say politely as you put the mittens away.

He nods back, a small smile forming around his lips.

The conversation falls short. A silence fills the air.

For a little too long.

It’s almost uncomfortable to breath, let alone talk, in the kitchen.

“Ribs are almost done. Please help set tables with me.”

You follow his request and help him with the plates and utensils.

“You know,”, You look up from the dinner table, giving Eiji your attention. “I did not know Mizu would bring girlfriend back.”

He chuckled as he looked back at you. You hear the emphasis on “girl” and laughed along. After hearing about Mizu’s previous relationship during the beginning of your relationship, you started to understand her ways.

And now, you understood why Eiji was awkward earlier in the day. When Mizu first met you, it was anxiousness meeting you. For Eiji, it was out of concern from Mizu’s past.

“Yeah, I’m probably not what you expected.”, you tease.

A hearty laugh comes out of Eiji. You feel the heaviness in the room lifts.

“But I’ll be here for her. I plan to, don’t worry.”, you reassure him. As serious as you sound, it was all true.

He hums in agreement. He puts down the final fork and walks over to the stir-fried green beans. His fingers reach for a string bean and tastes your cooking.

“Mm. You are honest.”, he pauses as he takes another bite. “You also make mean green beans.”

You snort, the compliment catching you off guard.

“Mean green beans?”, you question. You take a bean from the plate.

He nods.

Mean green beans…

while u and eiji are having a moment,

modern!mizu is listening to all of this go down

she tries not to smile when she comes back into the kitchen

but on the inside, she’s relieving hes getting along with u

once u and mizu help set the food on the table, its feasting time

ik for a fact that those baby back ribs are dangerously juicy

practically ripping off the bone

and with that honey bbq sauce???

and not to mention the prime rib??????

perfectly cooked

super tender

u can literally taste thyme, rosemary, and garlic with every juicy bite

(i shouldnt be writing this while im hungry)

u all enjoy a delicious dinner

afterwards, modern!mizu would give u a detailed tour of her childhood home

her fencing trophies lined up in the living room

and hallway

and bedroom

eiji didnt always say it but he was proud

if u couldnt tell already

when u guys went out to the backyard, u spot eiji working on a motorcycle in the shed

its not the biggest shed

but a closer look inside painted a pic of who he was

him on a motorcycle w his friends when he was much younger

a framed pic of a lil mizu on her scooter with him on a motorcycle, both vehicles with matching colors

the grand opening of eiji’s car shop

young mizu at the beach nearby

another of teenage mizu holding her keys and next to a blue 2004 toyota camry

u laughed and pointed it out

eiji chuckling along w u and describing the picture as mizu’s first drive after getting her license at age 16

she looks so much younger but u giggle at the scowl

on the other hand, modern!mizu is kinda embarrassed from her high school self

as crazy and insane and stubborn as she was, it was a big moment for her and for eiji

her girl could finally drive

and she got her first taste of freedom

did she cringe as u stared and laughed at how different she looked? yeah

but at least eiji isnt reminicising alone

[mikuustuff]

☆°.DABI HEADCANONS.°☆

[Song 4 the mood] --- some silly hcs of my bbg to start off my blog<33

_They get more intresting as you continue to read lmao

_Warnings- swearing, blood tears

☆Doesn't like spicy food, burns his throat and sour stuff is 10x more horrible, he has a raging sweet tooth tho!

☆LOVES peppermint (+flavoured stuff) it soothes his throats internal burns

☆Likes to sleep butt naked, absolutely no tops and his trousers are like a trap for his legs, he's laying in bed with shorts/boxers only

☆VERY picky eater (doesn't eat fruit hates citrus stuff but likes vegetables, Enji prolly ate them alot to keep fit which influenced Touya to follow thru)

☆Doesn't laugh at other ppls jokes, maybe a snort or gruff with a smirk

-defo snickers a lot tho when it comes to insults from him or hearing ppl give someone else a good insult

-BUT especially after his reveal and feeling less constipated of his personal life and identity he HOLLERS

-he's finally being loud and clear and WANTS to be heard

-If he hears smth funny he will bellow a loud ass laugh especially if he's the one making a joke, he's rolling all over the ground giggling and will give ppl dirty looks for not laughing along with him

-Girliest giggles while scrolling thru Enji hate twitter meme posts at like 4am

☆horrible sleep schedule, NEVER knows what time it is

☆Really doesn't give a shit abt anyth (thats not apart of his 'scheme' anyway)

-but sometimes if he's interested enuff he'll become all competitive and try to open up on you getting all cocky

-SUPER salty when he loses he's a silent sulker and will most likely berate u for it (sore ahh loser)

-SOOO SMUG IF HE WINS THO will all of a sudden mention a bet u two never made so now ur in debt to him for smth, its usually rly tame tho like if he's too lazy to get himself a drink he's been craving so now ur his little errand runner

☆100% watched those "real or fake?!" Cake videos with his siblings when they were younger

-Would throw massive hissy fits if shoto gets one right and he doesn't

-shoto is like a baby so bro is probably drooling and pointing at the screen cooing happily that he's copying his big bro touya while his role model is actually fucking seething

☆Because of this shoto prolly tried to copy touya a lot as a baby, saw big bro as a role model and made all the same decisions as him especially since touya is the only other kid with a fire quirk

☆BIG CRYBABY (after revealed identity) he's finally free he's no longer emotionally constipated, happy sad angry doesn't matter there is blood spilling from his scars but its always with a smile cause that's how he always was as a kid too, he doesn't know why he does that himself but it's actually because he can't cry, his body doesn't allow him to express his emotions properly however he can still smile

☆doesn't feel pain anywhere, uses that to his advantage a lot...

☆However he's still a whiny baby, gets stomach aches a lot prolly, his burns always itch and always has a migraine, will let EVERYONE know as an excuse for them to stfu or do shit for him, however if he's feeling especially vulnerable when feeling rly sick he's quiet and fidgety cause as a kid it was probably seen as a weakness that he would want to hide from Enji so he could train

☆Has travel/motion sickness (js like me fr), will vomit after watching a 3D Movie he's that pathetic, roller coasters r a big nono makes him dizzy js looking at them

☆ALWAYS stays up thru every movie, never once falls asleep on the couch even as a kid he gets stupid fomo over anyth (prolly bcs of Enji and shoto training)

☆He stims a lot when he gets excited/overstimulated/annoyed (kinda canon?)  Mostly his feet

☆HE DID NOT PLAN HIS DANCE, he was so into the moment and was so excited and full of emotion he just busted out moves and started dancing from sheer joy to finally be recognised once again (he stimmed lmao)

☆Bcs of his feet stims he defo was a random tiptoe walker as a kid and sometimes randomly does it as an adult

☆HUGE SENSORY ISSUE WITH SOCKS I've never seen bro wear any anyways?? Everyone in the LoV saw his feet when he wore his church shoes in s2 so wearing his big fancy boots is a great way to hide his free grippers

☆Bac to food he prolly rly likes plain food, pass him mac n cheese or any plain/tomato sauce pasta and he's happily chomping away with that big ass mouth, loves potatoes dishes he likes the mushy stuff, because of his big jaw eventho he hates fish he LOVES his chicken and beef and bites at the bone, turns into a rabbid animal sometimes

☆SO shit at shooter games, can't aim and just doesn't have the energy to get competitive over it, low key stresses him out

-however he LOVES anything that was on the Wii that he played as a kid cause he knows what he's doing, him fuyumi and natsuo all have a 3DS and got the same games to play with each other

-few years later he's now an adult with a distaste for ps5 and pcs but tenko gives him a random hacked 3DS extra he had cause dabi was complaining abt being bored when they had to lay low after some risky missions

-and he. went. feral.

-A shooter game on the 3DS? He knows what he's doing

-Defo showed off the cool trick to play as luigi in Mario bros but liked mario more cause ONCE enji said mario was 'cool'

-Always mained bowser (cause...yk Enji parallels) in Mario kart from childhood tho as an adult hes a dry bones guy, he's a nintendo>Sega baby does not know sonic nor gives a fuck

-knows quite a bit abt pokemon because fuyu had a hyperfixation on it and relaxes in animal crossing new leaf since that was natsus fav game cause he was the youngest and sucked at the harder ones, touya played a lot with them both

-but his favourite..is cooking mama 1-3 HES SO GOOD AT IT?? Just enuff chill and competitiveness, however gets weird ass whiplashes if he misses up (rarley) when mama has those fire eyes when shes angry...sounds familiar to a certain someone...

-also has a special memory of Rei trying the game and touya makes fun of his mama cause she sucked and ends up teaching her how to play and she actually gets rly good..as a kid it made him happy and proud...

-absolutely destroyed his dad in any wii sports games tho, 4 sure bowling/that samurai sword thingy is his goat (ifykyk)

-Sure he hates all the other consoles but he thinks the switch is alright, defo thought of natsu when acnh came out and the other pokemon games for fuyu

-SUPER salty no cooking mama games were made tho

☆whole heartedly believe he'd be a mamas boy if they found touya at 16 or if the incident at 13 didn't happen, would have time to mature (and yk don't miss like 3 super important years of actual development then living alone after said missed development) he would learn to see that appeasing enji was something he'd learn to resent and hate

☆Likes spiders, let's them crawl om him before flicking them off with a bored expression but if he finds out someone's scared of them he will start spooking them with the spider or ridicule them abt thier irrational fear to smth so small and inferior

-He was scared of them as a kid but during his ig...runaway Arc? (That we have no canon actual mentions of? Ig apart from the anime laptop scenes?) He found them around the places he'd sleep in for shelter so he kinda grew accustomed to them, so now knowing he overcame a fear so small he kinda likes to flaunt around his conquered fear and make fun of those still scared of them cause he's childish and thinks he's sooo great for getting over smth childish

☆surprisingly cares abt his nails? Doesn't like getting grime in them and screams internally when he sees toga a chronic nail biter chomp away at her nails mindlessly, he hates it it just irks him

☆Ik I said he'd be a picky eater, but I think in his runaway arc and first joining the LoV he became used to eating ANYTHING, raw, burnt, out of date he didn't care anymore food is food, give dude a freshly pink torn chicken wing and he'd silently eat it while watching some endeavour clip

-His obsession was so bad sometimes when he was this age that he'd forget to eat or sleep some days, hence getting him into his habit of eating anything and forcing himself out of his picky eater era

-Fortunately after joining the LoV and the whole liberation fight he went back to being his picky eater princess brat appetite back

☆Reported any endeavour praised videos, would try to dox endeavour fans and harass them, would block anyone that would disagree with him, had MULTIPLE accs cause he's js that extra, 100% used like 1 or 2 acts to back up another acc that got into a fight to look like ppl were on his side cause he's js that much of a petty baby, would be mean to literally any media (cause like let's be fr he watched other shit on that YouTube laptop) and would silently have a guilty pleasure watching creepypasta vids and speedpaints, knows all thier lore and was a victim to the slenderman family trope thing, prolly idolised the edgy teens that turn into psychomurderers ig as he starts to peice his new identity and yk...actually murdering ppl...but who cares??? mention eyeless Jack and his eyes will secretly sparkle in 90s anime style fashion, let bro rant abt it...

☆Speaking of which, if he were to ever doodle he'd so have some sort of low effort chibi 90s anime/scene emo kid art style, dude defo has an emo D carved/flamed on random abandoned buildings, was also a kid obsessed with that one S doodle

☆He's a pretty light sleeper, he never got much sleep as a kid and would prolly try to imitate enjis rly bad hero sleep schedule, after the hospital arc he defo is a sleepy guy but again can't sleep since he's on the streets, however after joining LoV he gets a little better at sleeping, before he was a silent guy but now he's js like his 13 Yr old self snoring LOUDLY but will 100% deny it, still a light sleeper but a little less worse than what it was

MY HC W ME/READER IG HEH😈(self indulgent cause I can)

☆He doesn't care much for music, will remember those old nightcore songs and doesn't mind heavy metal and rock but it kinda gives him a headache so he doesn't rly go out of his way to listen to anyth, u will NOT catch bro jamming to some random pop song, maybe after his reveal ull get a sentence or two from a popular old song from like avril lavene and a foot step to a rhythm but again not much care, however dude wouldn't mind listening to my background animal crossing playlist, he'd defo love the rain sf versions and would prolly help him sleep, the rain is a super big comfort to him it's like his white noise, his favourite is 1AM in acnl cause...idk it js is dont fight me on it

☆WORSE night terrors, is a victim of sleep paralysis, sleeping on the streets defo did a huge number on this dude, if we're talking abt being a potential partner he'd calm down and gently pull u towards him to hold it'll help him feel grounded, makes him feel safe knowing someone is sleeping next to him in general like he slept next to natsuo, when he was a kid natsuo would be too tired and a heavy sleeper to rly know abt touya waking up in sweats which didn't help when he was younger(natsuo is not like his big bro he is a DEEP sleeper) so if ur there with him hugging him whispering a word or two of reassurance(don't start blabbering he'll get annoyed he's prone to headaches especially when ur trying to be some saint) so he'll find comfort in u, best believe he's getting a good rest

Hope u enjoyed!!<33 I love yapping --- DO NOT STEAL/REPOST

[Wait the self-indulgent hcs were low key fun might make more lol]

•Don't copy/steal/repost•

[rosie-darling]

notes from whitepine episode 4!! bolded are my important thoughts

0:06 "i could scream and you both would be dead"

vi as a young genius (young enough to not be able to leave the house without an adult but old/clever enough to understand redstone)

2:01 "a button that can only be pressed if a condition is met"

3:44 ivory being comfortable around vi despite all the stuff about leniency and blackmail :)

3:56 i gotta be so fr. the redstone on the floor looked like blood when serapter walked in ALSO serapter suspect because he knows secret passages????? "i gave him the runaround" HOW

4:35 vi's little jumps of excitement 😭

4:49 he's so scary help "look a little happier" is craaaazy

6:16, 6:27, 6:49, 7:00, 18:47 - the detective watching ivory >:(

8:46 something about the way he says "yeah, the boring meetings" doesn't sit right with me like i trust pyro so much but …… hmm

10:32 he's havin a panakatak :( /ref

11:42 "i'll pay!" my SWEETHEART :(

12:08 "have you taken your break at all today?" and "don't work yourself to death over this job"

12:53 smth about the assumption that wild = scary "probably getting ready to mangle us or something" + mysti's cause of death, the camera angle from above that makes it seem like he's being watched, and "i've heard how protective mother bears are of their children that they'll like.. kill anything" - and !! "i wasn't sure if it was dead so i shot it a few more times just to reassure myself" - were the extra wounds to mysti done for the same reason?

13:27 izzy looking at zolister and then her food like his story makes her sick - i really really wonder what connections she has!!!

14:26 "i'm not just here for your dad's blessing" as in. for marriage???

14:50 izzy seems really baffled by him idk

15:50 the first pretty thing vi takes ivory to is the factory "my dad owns it" is crazy. and "there's no way people didn't die while building it"

16:11 am i going nuts or was that the sound of a train - generally that whole sequence felt like a flashback-inducing thing idk

17:00 vi just seems so happy to have a friend 😭

17:40 "we own this field" yes we know your dad is rich vi

17:51 there's no way that shed is uninhabited

19:10 i've heard the "bormethius stole the cot" theory but what about a "bormethius snatched the bag to get ivory to come to the art room" theory [the sound design here is SO good!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!]

20:43 ok hear me out. we suspect bormethius has a track record of stealing. i reckon he snatched the bag AND the cot - so, if he sees zam looking for him (while staying hidden, because he's not mentioned again), he can pretty easily extrapolate that ivy went to HIS room. ergo, he could steal something from zam's room and frame ivory so she's under even more scrutiny

22:17 could this be something to do with pyro? i know the obvious reason is overtiredness but pyro also was doing that….

23:31 why are we covering for ash………………. also "did you eat something spoiled" or POISONED???

ok i think i got everything. this episode was HEAVY on the analysis asjhdskhf

[just-null]

i have come here to personally thank you for giving me more than i asked for 🙏🏻 i am utterly grateful like IDJFKDKKFODOD 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️ it made me so happy the last doodle has my heart he is so cute i will eat him

also there is a DROUGHT out there for us noritoshi fans like im living on CRUMBS its insane and omg dont even talk to me abt how it feels like to be a kashimo and ino lover (altho they are getting a bit more love now) my nori is still underrated :/ sooo hence im asking ur hand in friendship and in exchange i promise to share my hcs with you abt nori my sweet lil meow meow we're in this together 💪🏻💪🏻

also since its October, do you think he likes horror movies? i feel like he can withstand gory movies but its the jumpscares that get him and he wont tell u he's scared when u watch one with jumpscares owkfkdkd imagine him hiding his face against ur shoulder or something 😭😭😭 (i used to do that with my dad when we watched horror movies and i used to be like im not scared😤😤 when he asked if i was lmfao thats where this hc stemmed from)

N. NORITOSHI HIDING IN YOUR SHOULDER OR SUPPRESSING HIS REACTIONS TO THE JUMPSCARES....... WAS IT AN INVOLUNTARY REACTION TO USE YOU TO HIDE??????? WAS IT BUILT UP TRUST????? DID HE GROW USED TO HOLDING ONTO YOU WHEN HE GETS SURPRISED BECAUSE HE WANTS TO MAKE SURE HE HAS HIS VALUABLES SAFE????????? WAS IT A MOMENT WHERE HIS MIND JUST INSTINCTIVELY GRABBED THE FIRST THING HE WANTED TO PROTECT/BE PROTECTED BY???????? OH MY FUCK.

he's probably used to gore and gritty stuff like that since he sees it often being a jujutsu sorcerer and all. not to mention his technique is literally blood. maybe he's desensitized to gore films, the most you'll get from him is a disgusted scowl.

BUT DID YOU SEE HOW QUICK HIS EYE OPENED WHEN HANAMI SHOWED UP BEHIND HIM. YOURE SO FUCKING FR ABT JUMPSCARES. Noritoshi is that guy who wouldn't scream or yelp but gasp really loudly and jump out of his skin.

i feel like they get him most in horror because of the music building up anticipation. if its one of those fake outs where the jumpscare comes a bit after, he's fucked UP. It makes him instantly miffed, as he tries to regain his composure. He swears he's not usually like this, it got him by surprise is all..!

Noritoshi is the type that'd only watch a horror movie if the story is rich and complex. He's the type of guy to like open endings that make you think.. if it's a guilty pleasure movie where all the protags make stupid decisions, he gets annoyed right off the bat.

He's groaning and complaining about how imbecile the characters are, but would still watch it with you because you personally invited him. If he's lucky you could fall asleep on his shoulder or [insert movie cliche here] how could he pass that up? But Noritoshi wouldn't be able to focus on you if he gets twice as annoyed because its a bad movie + jumpscares. it still startles him, but the movie is so terrible, he's embarrassed it got him, especially in front of you!!!

if you get involved and you tell him to quiet down, Noritoshi would shift his focus towards you. like that awkward guy who thinks he's being smooth and lowkey about how he cuddles up next to you. He wants to be the tough guy who's shoulder you can hide in, and he is!! just not.. with jumpscares.......