#doing that is just inviting spooky shit into your life

[veryintricaterituals]

Seen a few people talking about how Jim fearing curses is out of character... it's not, at all. It's a latinx thing, a cornerstone of our culture: "Yo no creo en las brujas, pero de que las hay, las hay" (I don't believe in witches, but they're out there) it pretty much means we don't fuck with spooky shit, we leave that to white people. Jim gets it, they get it...

I mean i'm jewish but if a priest told me, with his dying words, that something was cursed I would simply not take it, rip Stede but Jim and I are different

[gildedneon]

That Which I Cannot See

That Which I Cannot See - Part 2 - Diamonds in the Trees

Respectfully, you may not use my work, but you are welcome to share it. My work is only intended for those 18 and older as it contains explicit adult themes.

Summary: In this part of our story, Vessel invites you to a Halloween masquerade ball for a little game of cat and mouse.

Pairing: Vessel x Fem!Reader 

Tags: Hand stuff , mask play, concealed identity play, exhibitionism (sorta), sex in public spaces (privately), dub con, magical paint that won't throw off your Ph, dirty talk, and a bit of cardio.

Word Count: 5.6k(felt like way more but okay???)

A/N: I took my time with this one and had fun exploring new things. I didn't get to finish all of my ideas, so look for a bonus scene before part 3 comes out by end of year.

Part 1

Read on Ao3

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Warm water ran black as I washed my hands of the paint that now marked my neck. A near perfect recreation of Vessel’s work from that first night together. I was going for a goth macabre angel vibe. The mask I would be wearing would not be obscuring my vision this time, with cutouts to show off the smoky eye I had spent the past half hour perfecting. Strategically painted gold drips down my cheeks, running from my eyes. The perfect compliment to my gown.

Golden layers of fabric lay like feathers at the sleeves. Gold detailing trails down from the sweetheart neckline through the black cinched waist, layering into more feathering along the hips. My favorite part was the hidden pockets. I hated having to carry a purse with me and I didn’t want to be without my phone and lipstick. Layers and layers of panels of black tulle comprised the skirt. The separate panels would allow for infinite thigh slits, unrestricted movement, and access should the night take me there. A few taps on my phone and I was Facetiming Kallie to get her seal of approval while I started working on my hair. 

“Holy shit you look hot and spooky! Backup so I can see the dress.” Following her instructions, I give my skirts a little swish to and fro. 

“Thank you, thank you, I worked really hard to put this together and I am so proud. But I gotta finish my up-do.” Approaching the counter, I get to work on just that.

“I am honored to see your vision come to life. He’s gonna die when he sees you. Speaking of, how is he?” The look of nonchalance on my face sets her off before I can even respond.

“What’s going on? Like what’s up with you two?“You’ve been talking for weeks and he flies you across the pond for some fancy ass party, just so you guys can what? Casually go to the royal Halloween ball together? Is that really what you’re gonna sit here and tell me?” I wince but my lips quirk up at her teasing.

“Yeah, Kallie it is. What else would you like me to say? Why’s it gotta be more than that? I’m not trying to uproot my life. I like how things are... Why can’t it just be fun? It doesn’t have to be so serious.” I continue to wrangle my hair into some sort of abstract shape atop my head.

“You’re so right you’re soooo right. It’s so casual being flown overseas and casually put up in a whole ass suite with a very casual private driver.” 

“Say casual one more time…”

“Casual.” Rolling my eyes, I stifle my laugh, and continue jabbing pins into my mess of curls.

“One step at a time please. I just want to enjoy what I’ve got while I’ve got it. Live in the moment, you know?” Satisfied that my hair is contained, I dust gold powder over my body.

Her tone softens. “I just don’t want you settling for less than what you truly want. Dream a little. Have a little hope for the things you’re scared to want.” I slide a headband halo of gold spikes into place in front of my messy updo.

“Yeah yeah I know… But not tonight!” Fitting my mask to my face, I grin at my reflection. The mask covers from the tops of my cheeks, up to my hairline. Intricate feathering spans at my temples, and the gold dripping from underneath is exactly the look I wanted. 

“Soooo, how do I look?” Letting the gold gleam in the bathroom light as I show off for my best friend.

“Ooooo yes you look so fucking perfect! Take lots of pictures!! When is he picking you up?” 

“Well, he did offer to pick me up and ride together but then he also suggested we could arrive separately and ‘see what fate has in store for us this evening’.. Ya know? Make a little game out of it.” My hands gesture dramatically as I impersonate his voice.

“You’re a little too good at that impression ya know. Ooo so he has to hunt you down! Does he know what you’re wearing???” 

“Nope and I don’t know what he’s wearing either. We have to see if we can find each other. Oh shit what happens if we don’t? I didn’t think about it like that. How many people do you think will be there?” A tight feeling blossoms in my chest.

“Heyyy don’t psych yourself out. Trust the universe girl. There could be a million people there and I bet he’d find you.”

“Please don’t say something cheesy and cliche.” Cutting her off, I paint my lips a liquid gold.

“FINE. I won’t. But if it were me, you’d tell me that even if you never see him, you’re going to an amazing once in a lifetime event full of opportunity and your experience doesn’t need to rely on another person… You look stunning. Go have fun, don’t wait around. Do the things you want to do. Be safe, be slutty, and text me when you get back.” Laughing, I give myself a final look over in the mirror, blow her a kiss, and end the call.

Off I go to play with fate.

The ride there was surprisingly relaxing. Kallie was right. I just need to focus on myself and have fun no matter what. The tightness in my chest loosens briefly but takes a new shape as a masked valet helps me out of the car. People in all sorts of costumes stream from cars and into the estate looming before me. Shrugging on a false confidence, I follow suit.

Sipping my drink, I stroll the ornate rooms, taking in the sights of costumes both spooky and spicy. There are so many people. I don’t think I was fully aware of how much we were putting in fate’s hands. With this amount of guests, there was a very good chance the whole night could pass without us so much as being within 50 ft of one another. But oh well. This is about enjoying myself no matter what. I’ve been wandering for half an hour without the faintest idea of what his costume is. Music wafts from a not so distant room, and I follow it like a siren call. Weaving through the crowd, I make my way to the dance floor of a beautiful ballroom. Elegant dresses whirl past me. Someone taps my shoulder. A man with a harlequin type costume, bows slightly and extends a hand. He’s tall, but I don’t think he’s tall enough. Could it be? But the hand he offers me is not the one I had become so familiar with. Still, I take it and let him sweep me along to the resonating strings.

Consumed by the swirling colors and beautiful music, I’ve lost track of time. This must be my third partner. The music stops. My partner bows before me, stepping back. Sensation sweeps along my bare back, causing my skin to prickle and my neck to heat. Looking over my shoulder, I scan the masked faces, searching. Music starts anew and the beating of my heart intensifies. The music begins again but with a fresh intensity. Once again, I am twirling across the dance floor. My partner spins me out and another grabs my outstretched hand, twirling me into a suit of peacock blues and greens. He leads me in this new waltz. Just as I am getting comfortable with his flow, I’m spun out and into the hand of another. Each passing partner is a stranger. This pattern repeats as I lose myself in the music. 

A jolt shoots up my arm as I’m handed off to another. My eyes dart to the black painted hand holding mine. A flitting feeling awakens inside my chest. Dressed in black accented by the darkest red, this partner is a menacing sight to behold. Mostly because his mask is as unsettling as it is striking. The intricate blood red weavings that comprise it are hauntingly beautiful. The top shoots upwards into a cathedral crown. A black hood streams down, covering the rest of his head. The unsettling part is how not only are the eyes completely obscured, but two black skeleton hands rest atop where the eyes should be. In his signature style, the only part exposed is his mouth. He gives my hand a gentle squeeze and a smile spreads across my lips. White teeth flash in a monstrous grin against his painted skin. A shiver runs down my spine. He looks so inhuman with this facade. But his touch is familiar and grounding. The beat of my heart picks up as I acclimate, to my hand held in his, and to his hand resting low on my back, lower than others dared to go. Lower than would be considered polite. His touch, yet again, an intimate gesture for all to see.

He pulls me into focus, everything around us fading into the background. The distance between us has me aching for his full touch. Memories of our last night together flitter through my mind and heat rushes through me. He flashes me a wicked grin, as if he knows… and perhaps he does. He twirls me out and I am whisked away by another, and someone new is in his arms. 

A couple of partners later, the song comes to an end. I nod my thanks to the gentleman in front of me, and make my way to the refreshments, assuming Ves is on his way to me. But maybe he isn’t because now I’m stuck in the crowd, sipping my drink, and I can’t catch sight of him. I notice the orchestra packing up their instruments. How odd. Is the music really over so early in the night? What time is it? Before I can reach for my phone, that strange sensation prickles the back of my neck again. Turning my head, I see no trace of the red skeleton crown. Fingers skate across the bare skin of my upper back. I whip around, but he’s not there. Instinct guides me forward, making my way into the hall. Blood red coattails flutter around a corner. I hastily follow suit. 

Surprisingly the crowd has thinned. I skim the costumes, none are familiar. Turning down a corridor, my stomach tumbles at the sight of his mask staring at me. Cautiously, I make my way to him. 

Taking my hand in his, he lifts it to his mouth, placing a kiss along my knuckles. The faintest bit of gold gleams on his lips.

“Thank you for accompanying me this evening.” His voice is a breath of fresh air. 

“Thank you for bringing me. I’ve never been to a Halloween masquerade before. Especially not at a fancy estate.” Succumbing to the urge, I allow my fingers to trace the lines of his vest.

“I think I rather enjoy giving you new experiences” His purr rumbles through my fingertips.

“As do I... I hope there will be more. The costumes here are all so fantastic.” 

“Ah so I’m fantastic now?”

“Ha. Ha. Yours is more than fantastic but honestly it’s also a little scary.” 

“And is that not what you wanted?” He smirks.

“I did say that didn’t I…” I think back to that night in the dressing room. 

Do you want to be scared of me? Maybe a little. …maybe a lot

“I’m not used to seeing you look like this. It’s unsettling. You look like a stranger. A very ominous imposing stranger and that’s what is scary about it. But I’m into it because it’s you.”

“What about me makes it okay?” Placing an arm against the wall, he leans into me. The familiarity of his voice contrasts with the frightening facade. 

“I trust you. I feel safe with you.” And it’s true. I trust him with exploring things that are unfamiliar and out of my comfort zone. I trust him enough to feel safe even when I’m afraid and that excites me.

“Well trust that we are going to have fun tonight.” Suggestion rides on the lilt of his voice.

“I’m already having fun.” I tease, dancing my fingers along his shirt. A painted hand trails up my arm, tracing the blackened streaks running down my neck. Shivers ripple in his wake and I instinctively shift closer. My gaze is locked on his smirk. Desire curls inside of me as I remember the way his mouth felt against my neck.

“I still think about our first night together.” As if he read my mind. His wandering hand finds its way down to my hip, as he leans in closer. “What did I tell you? How I would remember the way you felt wrapped around my fingers.” His hand slides down from my hip, gripping the back of my thigh as he turns me. Pressing my back against the wall, with his thigh between my legs. “Because I have.”

“Do you remember the feel of me?” He asks, and the way his thigh moves against me has me shuddering. I nod and try to shift my hips, but he holds firm, not allowing an inch. I can feel myself pulsing against his thigh.

“I want to hear you say it.” Of course he does. 

“Yes” It comes out as a plea, one he obliges with the shift of his leg. The friction sends sparks shooting through me. 

“And what do you remember?” My thoughts are lost in the haze of lust.

“What?” He leans right into my ear, voice rumbling.

“How did I feel?” My eyes widen at his words. I feel my face warm.

“Ves, we’re at a party.” I hiss. Although that very fact fuels the flames more.

“And we’re enjoying ourselves. Don’t worry love, nobody is paying us any mind. All of these people are too worried about themselves. They might assume we are having an intimate conversation. And that is what we are having… is it not?” I nod and he shifts his leg against me in reward.

“As I was saying… Now do you still want more of me?” Clinging to him, I bob my head in affirmation.

“Maybe I’ll steal you away to someplace dark where no one will hear you scream.” I let out a shaky breath, as heat rushes through me. His head turns, our lips mere inches apart, sending my heart racing. Suddenly, a deep thrumming rattles through the hall. Both of us tilt our heads. 

“What is that?” I ask. His grip on me loosens as he leans back.

“Why don’t you go find out?”

“Are you not coming with me?” That creepy mask tilts along with his head. I feel his reasoning press against me before he pulls fully away from me.

“You run along ahead, I’ll find you later.” I straighten out my skirts, not ready for the fun to be over just yet.

“What if you don’t?” He shakes his head and his lips quirk up.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Exhaling my nervous breath, I give a slight smile and turn on my heel, hastily moving towards the source of the beat.

The ballroom has transformed since I was spinning under the golden chandeliers. Red and purple lighting fills the space with a spooky touch. A costumed DJ sits upon a small stage, laser lights flickering out around the setup. I slink my way through the pulsing crowd, finding comfortable spaces to stop and lose myself in the throbbing mass. I let the beat pulse through me as I roll my body with a rhythm that is my own. No worrying about how I look, just focusing on what feels good. Most everyone seems caught in their own trance. For a second, I miss Vessel. I imagine what it would be like to dance with him like this. Feel his hands on me, something I seem to be longing for tonight. I can almost feel his phantom touch, my body writhing into it. And then I let go of that thought and continue weaving through the crowd, finding the perfect spot. 

The beat drops and my attention snags on the woman in front of me dressed as a silver princess. She takes notice as well and our movements begin to sync, bringing us closer. I’m vaguely aware of the masked prince dancing behind her, watching us intently. A coy smile splays across her mouth as she closes the gap between us, things taking a more sensual turn. Like how my gaze flickers over her soft curves and lingers on her lips. Like the way the fabric of our gowns brush against each other, the space between us is ever shrinking. Her fingertips dance along my arm, I tentatively mirror her movements. The prince’s arm comes around her waist, pulling her back a bit, and I follow, leaning in to her. Our gaze darting between each other’s lips. Her eyelids flutter and a large hand wraps firmly around my throat. Another gripping my hip, pulling me back against a firm body. That familiar voice is in my ear “I don’t feel like sharing tonight, perhaps another time” His tone is playful but carries that now familiar edge of darkness.

His painted hand slides down my arm, grasping my hand in his. Bringing our joined hands to rest on my stomach, he pulls me flush against him. This wasn’t anything like dancing in college, with random dudes grinding themselves against you without so much as an acknowledging glance. I welcome the way his body holds mine as I move freely to the music. His hips move with me, matching my rhythm. The brief friction from the evidence of his arousal sends ripples of excitement through me. I let my head fall back against his chest and my free hand slides to his thigh. My grip tightens as I drag my hand up and down his leg. I feel the rumble of warning in his chest. But I’m having fun with this. I am fully signed up and on board for what I’m getting myself into. Slowly, I move our joined hands lower on my stomach, down, down, until my fingers dance over the apex of my thighs. His hand spasms over mine, as if to stop me, and for a second I wonder if he will. But then he gives my hand a firm nudge. My hand moves under his, providing just a taste of what I crave. No one can see, not that anyone is looking. Everyone is so engrossed in their own experience. Acting like we are alone in a sea of hundreds is thrilling. I can feel him grind against me and it makes me ache for more. There’s no way that touching myself through my dress is going to do much other than get me hot and bothered. He knows it too. My grip on his thigh flexes with the little waves of pleasure I manage to elicit. His left hand grips my hip harder. Each press of our bodies makes me ache to have him inside of me. His hold on my hip tightens to a painful degree. Holding me so still I can no longer dance. He lifts my hand and drags me from the ballroom.

Mindlessly, I let him lead me through hallways, the crowd thins out, and then we are outside on a spacious balcony. The cool air soothes my heated skin, as I look out at the gardens. His thumb brushes over my knuckles.

“Shall we continue our fun?” My head tilts in response.

“Let’s explore the maze. I bet I can find that dark place to drag you to where no one will hear you scream. Give me a bit of a head start.” My brows shoot up.

“You want me to come find you? Like hide and seek?”

“Oh you won’t need to find me. I’ll find you. And when I do, you might want to run.”

My brow furrows. Spooky costume or not, does he really expect me to run from him? Wouldn’t that be a little thrilling though? I wonder to myself and before I know it, he’s slipped down the stairs and sauntering off into the dark maze. I use these few minutes to study what I can of the maze’s layout. As if it will help me when I’m turned around inside.

Guided by a moonlit path, It’s a bit eerie how there’s no one around. I thought at least some people would be out here but aside from the few stragglers making out on benches near the entrance, I find myself alone. I’ve been wandering for a bit of time now. Oh god, what if I get lost? And I’m stuck out here for who knows how long? A prickle of awareness brings a rustling sound into sharp focus. Whipping around, there’s no one to be seen on the path. I must be getting jumpy being alone out here. I continue around the bend, pretty sure that somewhere up ahead there is an entrance to a hidden garden I had spied from the balcony. Despite my efforts, another rustling sound has goosebumps running along my arms. There’s an archway up ahead on the right, leading away from my destination. As I grow near I swear I see a glimpse of something in the shadowy alcove. My steps falter, tension gathers in the pit of my stomach. Okay maybe this is scarier than I gave him credit for. Steeling my nerves, I walk up to the archway. To my relief, the shadow was a fountain. Laughing, I stop to listen to its babbling stream. I register movement from out of the shadows and in that instant, fear reawakens, and I take off. Gathering my skirts, I run down the straight away, tiny branches clawing at the fabric of my skirt as I round the corner. I hear the growl of my name, a voice that's familiar but so foreign. Uncertainty grips my chest and propels me forward. 

There’s an archway coming up on the left. If my memory serves correct, this opens into one of the small gardens within the maze. That would give me a shot at losing the danger at my heels. My lungs are screaming for air as I round the bend, relief is brief as I am correct about the garden. I dart into one of the alcoves, pressing my back against a stone column. As I work to steady my breathing, I gather my skirts to stay out of view. With my back to the garden, all I can see is the sculpture and bench in this alcove. Over the roaring in my ears, I hear the crunch of gravel working its way around the space. My breathing begins to settle, and the crunching grows faint… then silent. I wait for what feels like an eternity, before peeking out around the column. All I see is the fountain in the middle and more alcoves lining the perimeter. There are two entrances from the maze. I figure my best bet is to go back the way I came and try and find my way out of this place. My heart is still beating faster than usual. I take a deep breath to steady myself and head towards the exit. Just as I am about to walk through the opening, strong arms grab me, pulling me back against a firm body. 

The scream I let out is instantly muffled by a large hand. I’m spun around and sent forward, back towards my hiding place. Squirming against the restraint, I try to move my arms but they are locked firmly in place by the arm wrapped around my waist. My wrists twist, swiping my claw like nails at anything I can grab. My captor pushes me with them, taking us into the alcove. Before the panic sets in, I am released. I stumble forward and whirl around, my hands instinctively coming up in defense. 

But I recognize that terrifying mask and towering physique. Fear dissolves, the embers of my desire stir awake in a consuming blaze. Anger joins the mix, my fists clench. I raise a hand, and just as I open my mouth to say whatever the hell it was that I was going to say, he crashes into me. His hand cradles the back of my head, the other pulls me flush against him as his mouth clashes with mine. It's messy and out of sync, but after a few beats my anger ebbs and liquid heat takes its place. His lips slow against mine, in an almost apologetic way. But I don’t need apologies for a game I’m delighting in. I grip the front of his vest, pulling our bodies impossibly closer. His teeth nip at my lower lip, my answering gasp grants his tongue entrance. Our tangled kiss deepens and my hold on him tightens in a silent plea. 

He steps into me, guiding me back until I feel the rough stone of the column against my skin once again. His hands push through tulle until I feel his warm touch against my thighs. Flinging the material to the side, he wastes no time, sliding a finger through my arousal and into my waiting heat. I moan into his mouth as he strokes me in a firm caress. His mouth pulls away, but only an inch. Little whimpers from my lips ghost across his own. He starts to slide a second finger inside of me and as I choke back a moan, he stops.

“I think you know better than that” He growls. I nod in agreement and make no attempts to diminish the sounds I make as he adds a second finger.

“I told you I would take you where no one could hear you scream. I also told you that I am not in the mood to share. No one’s coming.” I wasn’t sure if that was a promise or a threat.

I couldn’t help the way my thighs clenched around his hand, nor the sounds of his slick fingers. I’m not sure what I did to deserve him stopping suddenly, but the air left my lungs as he removed his hand from inside me and brought it to his mouth. Seemingly savoring the taste of me. Next thing I know, he’s setting me down on the bench. 

“Move those pretty skirts for me.” I hastily do as he says as he kneels before me. An eerie thrill shoots through me as I now stare at his mask. I think he’s staring between my legs but I can’t tell with those macabre skeleton hands so close to such an intimate part of me. His hand coasts below my knee, lifting my leg onto the bench, baring me completely. Thankful for the wooden slats behind me, I lean back, bracing myself as I feel his tongue’s first languid lap. The most elegant torture, to have him take his time devouring me, while I burn to be filled completely by him. When his fingers entered me once again, my back arched and I almost screamed at the satisfaction. But he and I both know it’s not enough. I’m too eager for more to allow myself to find release like this. Mustering what little self control I have at the moment, I push at his shoulder with my heeled foot. Reluctantly, he rocks back, his head tilting at an inquisitive angle. For a moment, I’m so distracted by the smear gold, black, and revealed skin around his mouth that I almost forget what I was going to request.

“Switch places with me.” Despite the mask, I swear his eyebrows shot up, and he oblidges. Offering a hand, painted black save for two fingers, my cheeks heat at the sight. He pulls me to my feet, my legs a little wobbly, but he ensures I’m steady before taking a seat. Now it’s my turn to kneel before him, grateful for my thick skirts and the smooth stone under us. My hands are quick to undo his pants, but he assists, pulling himself from the confines of his pants. My mouth falls open at the sight of his impressive and potentially intimidating length. God, I’m so impatient I almost jump him right there, but I will myself to slow down, to savor the feel of him as I take him in my hand, as I run my tongue up his length. Air hisses from between his teeth as I lick teasing stripes. I take him into my mouth. Hollowing my cheeks, I gently bob my head. Working to accommodate him into my too small mouth, saliva runs down to where I begin to work him with my hand. His heavy breathes and soft rumbling moans stroke my ego but are wearing my selfish patience thin. I’m delighted to return the favor, but I’m eager for what comes next. And it seems I’m not alone in that, as I feel his grip on my shoulder, pulling my mouth off of him with a wet pop. 

His mouth looks like he’s trying to find the words to speak, as I rise from the ground, holding my skirts out of the way, and climb into his lap, his hands coming to steady my hips. Without pause, I reach down and guide him to my slick entrance. I brace a hand on his shoulder as I sink down, enveloping him. A sound between a moan and a sob leaves my lips when he hits a spot deep inside me.

“Fuck, you feel better than I ever could have imagined” He grinds out. 

“So do you” I pant as I seat myself, twitches of pleasure jolt through me. As I acclimate, I search the skeleton hands for any sign of him. But I’m met with nothing but the frightening facade. In this moment, I wish I could see his eyes… ease biting thrill of the unknown. His thumbs stroke my hips, bringing me back to where we are connected. Shifting my focus to his mouth, I can’t help but smile at how ruined he looks. With his pale skin revealed under the smears of black and gold paint. Lord, I can only imagine what my own looks like. How anyone would know what we got up to with just one look at us. That thought sends a shiver through me. I rock my hips and start to move. I clutch at his shoulders as the stretch of him begins to consume me. My eyes flutter as I ride him. Playing with different angles, creating a rhythm that has me clamping down on him. Our moans dance in the air between us as we are lost in the feel of each other at last. His grip tightens until he is aiding in my rhythm, lifting and pulling at my hips. The push and drag of him inside of me drives me higher, my pace becoming more deliberate. I reach my hand down, fingers seeking out the spot to send me over the edge. Pleasure blinds me, hindering my necessary pace. As I falter, he takes over, gripping my hips as he lifts me up and down. Parts of my body are limp, the others taught as I spin closer and closer. And then I’m sobbing into his chest as fall over the edge. I collapse onto him as I shake and shiver around him. The subsiding shockwaves are both pleasurable and exhausting. 

“Take a moment, because I am not done with you yet” It sounds like a threat and a promise and instantly my body clenches around where he is still hard inside me. He laughs. “Do you think you can stand?” 

“Probably but why would I?” I wiggle my hips with a sigh. Gripping me, he rolls my hips once, twice, then pulls me off of him. I pout. He points at the sculpture in the alcove. I take a shaky step towards it, and he rises behind me. I begin to turn towards him, but he pulls my hips, bending me over. My hands fly out, catching myself on the ledge, and he nudges my feet apart.

“Sadly, there is not enough time left to this night to satiate my desires.” He parts my skirt and wastes no time sliding into the hilt.

“Now that I’ve had all of you, how could this ever be enough?” Each word punctuated with a thrust of his hips. My knees go weak from the pleasure and I tighten my hold on the statue as he picks up speed. Tears spring into my eyes at the onslaught of sensations. There is no space for words between the cries from my lips. I am at his mercy. One of his hands creeps between my legs, but if I have another orgasm here I think he would need to carry me from this garden. I drag his hand up to my chest instead and he works his hand beneath the fabric, teasing me with those skilled fingers. My legs tremble as I near my limit. My cries turn to borderline sobs. He slows for a few seconds and then sets a punishing pace. 

“Make no mistake. I am not done with you yet.” He growls. As his grip tightens, his thrusting becomes erratic. Just as my legs begin to buckle, he pulls out, spilling himself into the bushes. 

“Well… the night is still young.” I try to keep my voice even despite my labored breath. “Why don’t we go back to that lovely hotel you got me?” ---- ~Bonus chapter coming soon~

[hayanwulf]

Hi hello I hope you’re doing well! :)

I was going to prompt, for spooky season, another vampire Stephen? Maybe a continuation of the Ironstrange one if you’re interested?

(Though I might have already asked. I’m sorry if I have. I remember thinking about sending a prompt and I have no clue if I ever actually did)

Thank you for the well wishes. And, gee, aren’t you a lucky ducky, cause there’s a couple of strangefrost vamp!stephen prompts soon after yours in the queue.

Click here to read the first part of IronStrange Vamp!Stephen

The lust is going haywire, Stephen thought dryly as he came to.

His body felt oddly numb, and the urge to drink, to kill, pushed violently against the semblance of control and stability in his mind’s Sanctum even as his own rational thoughts tried to hold them back. He tried to open his eyes, and groaned at the bright lights that instantly filtered in through his eyes, squinting. He had a headache.

His head was splitting, and his body felt numb, and the lust was pushing its way up relentlessly, and Stephen felt like absolute shit.

The brightness of the room dulled a little, and Stephen tried to open his eyes again, finding a sterile looking ceiling above him. He also realized that he was laid out in a bed. Why was he in a bed? Better yet, where was he?

“Stephen?” A gentle voice called to him, a voice that Stephen was all too familiar with. He stilled, only now catching onto the sweet, inviting scent of blood just to his left.

Oh, Vishanti, he thought as he realized that Tony was not only sitting right next to him, but held one of Stephen’s hands in his hold. He turned to look at the genius, and found a pained look etched in his face. All the memories of what had happened returned to him.

The werewolf fight.

So much blood spilled.

So much blood lost.

And here he was, lying on a recovery bed with Vishanti knew how many wounds while his bloodlust raged inside his mind, rapidly fraying the control and discipline he had worked hard for years to establish. And right in front of him was the love of his life, the one who he had silently sworn to protect at all costs, smelling oh-so-delectable, completely unaware of just how much of a danger Stephen was to him.

Stephen hated himself for it. Would forever hate himself for it.

He swallowed, nervously licking the inside of his lips, and froze, his eyes widening.

If Stephen’s blood had been warm, it would’ve gone cold right at that moment.

His fangs were out.

Which meant his eyes must also be red.

Which meant his true identity was on full display for Tony, for his friend and the love of his life, for the hunter that sat not a foot away from Stephen.

He yanked his hand away from Tony’s grip and tried to stand up, because he needed to get away, he needed to run far far away and never show his face to this man again.

In reality, all he managed was a grunt and a pathetic crawl away from Tony, until he reached the other edge of the bed, wanting to topple himself off but simply having no energy left in his body whatsoever, nor the courage. His wounds tugged painfully, whatever medication was in his system not enough to curb the pain.

“Stephen, hey,” Tony stood up, raising his hands in a placating gesture. “It’s okay, you’ll be okay.”

“What..” Stephen asked in a shaky voice as he tried to prop himself up on elbows and miserably failed at that, even. “I’m.. I..” He tried to form words, but couldn’t find any. What did he even say? I’m sorry for deceiving? I never meant to lie?

I love you.

You smell delicious.

Each thought that flashed through his mind was even more appalling than the previous.

There was nothing, nothing that he could say to Tony.

“You bled a lot, Stephen,” Tony said carefully. “You need blood.”

Horror crept up Stephen’s spine as he realized what Tony meant, when the other man slowly climbed into the bed with him. His mind screamed at him to act on the chance. To pin the human down and drain him dry. And he couldn’t. He couldn’t. It took all of his willpower to not give in to the raging lust inside of him, to keep his control holding true, weak and frail as it was now.

“You need to leave,” Stephen pleaded, shaking his head in denial when Tony’s hand came to gently cup his face.

“No,” The genius declared, and then grabbed the back of Stephen’s head to pull him in until his face was buried in Tony’s neck. Stephen made a strange noise at the back of his throat when his senses were suddenly so full of Tony, the warmth of the genius’ body, the saccharine, tantalizing smell of his blood, the distinct scent of Tony which Stephen, at some point, had come to associate with home.

Stephen squeezed his eyes shut as his fangs itched fiercely, his instincts now a roaring voice inside of his head. His lips were practically touching the tender skin. It would be so, so easy to just give in, sink his fangs into that same skin which he had fantasized many a nights about caressing, kissing tenderly, worshiping.

“Please, Tony,” Stephen begged, wishing that the genius would just leave. He was teetering at the edge of his control. “I can’t hurt you. Please.”

At that, Tony pulled him away to look down at him. He wore a look similar to the pained expression Stephen had seen in his face when he had woken up.

“Stephen, you’re the last person on this planet who would hurt me.”

Stephen’s breath stuttered, tears falling from his eyes. How could Tony have so much trust in him? He did not understand.

“I.. I’m a vampire, Tony,” Stephen whispered in a broken voice, because maybe that would give Tony the wake-up call. Maybe now the genius would realize that this was all real and that he was hugging a vampire so damn close to his neck. That he needed to let go, run, and abandon Stephen for good.

Instead of doing any of that, Tony huffed and spoke in a dry voice, “Yeah, your eyes kind of gave it away. Or, I don’t know, the fact that you don’t have a heartbeat. I am mad at you about it by the way. But I’ll feel like an asshole if I yell at you when you’re looking like this.” He shoved Stephen’s face back into his neck, and when he spoke next, his voice was much softer. “So what you’re going to do now is feed on me, and we’ll figure out the rest later. I trust you. You won’t hurt me.”

Tears steadily streamed out of Stephen’s eyes as he pressed his nose into the soft skin, inhaling Tony’s natural scent, and the scent of the blood rushing just beneath. He didn’t know what he had done to earn such an absolute trust of this beautiful, impossible man, who never gave his trust away to just anyone.

Tony’s trust was not something to be taken lightly. It was an utterly precious thing. And so Stephen found all the fight leaving his body as he gave in to Tony’s demand.

He recalled years of training and discipline. He firmly clamped a tight vice around his bloodlust, his determination fueled further by his need to protect his precious love from himself. He would feed from Tony, but he would be the one in control throughout. He would stop when he had drunk a safe amount.

I will let myself be hurt before I ever hurt you, he silently vowed, and sank his teeth deep into Tony’s veins.

[redtsundere-writes]

hi! try this :) https://pin.it/7yDRk3alf

OOOOOOH I CAN COOK WITH THIS *puts on chef's hat*

Something small. 1367 words. I have no title lol.

“You have to live your life to the fullest, kiddo,” Kusakabe often told her that whenever they went to a mission together. As her mentor, he only wanted good things for her, specially since they worked in the same dangerous job. Even though she thought he was somewhat of a boring man, she really appreciated him.

“You have to come right now!” Utahime called her in the middle of the evening, as she was walking back home from a solo mission she just had.

“To where?” She wondered, maybe her best friend wanted to invite her to a party. It was Halloween after all.

“To Shibuya!”

On this spooky night, Shibuya transforms into a vibrant, pulsating carnival of chaos and color. The narrow streets, usually teeming with shoppers and commuters, are now a sea of people in costumes, each more outrageous and imaginative than the last. Neon lights, loud music and crazy energy. It would be a great night to party.

“Yeah, it would,” she thought disappointed when she arrived to the place to work. She didn't hate her job like most sorcerers do, but sometimes wished she had more time to relax. Hopping from one mission to another could be really stressful.

Apparently, almost every sorcerer was called to help in an emergency in Shibuya. Last time this happened was in Shinjuku, The Night Parade of a Hundred Demons. So, this was about to be big again. She held her sword tightly as she ran to the place she was supposed to meet her mentor.

“Long time no see, kiddo,” Kusakabe greeted.

“I'm 21,” she answered with a quick grin tugging her cheek.

“You are still a kid for me,” he scrambled her hair. “How is the other kid, your little sister?”

She hadn't seen Miwa in a while, due to her living in a different city for sorcery school, but they called and texted every day to make sure she was fine. Once Utahime hung up, she called her little sis to check if she was going as well. Apparently, her and some of her classmates were on their way in a bullet train.

“She is fine, so excited to see Gojo sensei in action,” she joked. “And who is the big fella?” She pointed at the giant panda behind Kusakabe.

“I'm Panda,” the puppet answered.

“No shit.”

Panda and Kusakabe explained that around 7:00 pm a curtain with a four-hundred meter radius is cast around Shibuya. The center of the curtain is at the Tokyo Department Store. It only traps non-sorcerers, making it, so civilians can enter but not exit. There were several teams making sure that no more civilians entered.

“Shoko is here,” Kusakabe said as they were walking around the dome.

Sadly, she had seen Shoko more than your sister, since she constantly got injured at missions. She remembered the good old days when she looked upon Shoko. Always looking cool and hanging out with Gojo Satoru and Geto Suguru, special grade sorcerers, meanwhile she hanged out with Ino, the guy has been friend-zoning you for the longest time.

“Ino is here as well,” Kusakabe smirked, looking at her to get her reaction.

“So what?” She blushed intensely by thinking about him.

She doesn't remember when she started liking him. There was that day when Ino invited her to watch a movie after class, and he fell asleep on her shoulder. He looked so cute sleeping with this mask falling slowly on his face. She didn't move an inch just to make sure he had a good nap.

She really liked him a lot, but he didn't felt the same. Ino constantly talked about his failed dates, completely oblivious that she was interested in him. That was a clear sign what he wasn't interested in her in that way, but she just stopped caring. She was just happy to be in his life as his friend.

“What do you mean 'so what'? I can see in your cheeks you are excited to see him,” Kusakabe teased her.

“Do you like Ino?” Panda asked her, curious about the topic.

“No.”

“Yes.” Kusakabe and her answered at the same time.

“Ugh! Fine! Yes, alright?” She finally accepted with her tomato face.

“You are very pretty, I bet you have a shot.” Panda gave you a hopeless thumbs up.

“Thanks, Panda.”

Walking around the perimeter, they crossed paths with the Zenin's Team, which whom they had a casual conversation about the plan and continued their way. As they continue their path, Kusakabe smirked when he saw Nanami's Team for afar.

“Look, your boyfriend is coming,” Kusakabe teased her, nudging her on the side.

She gasped softly when she saw his disheveled brown hair, shiny black eyes and jolly smile, and he chatted along with Megumi Fushiguro. Her pounded hard against her chest as they got closer. It was funny how even though they saw each constantly due to work, she felt the same every time her eyes landed on him.

“Kusakabe's team,” Nanami mentioned as he saw the team walking up to them.

Ino whipped his head to lay his eyes on her, stop talking mid-conversation with Megumi. She looked as pretty and professional as always. He gulped as he took a quick look at her luscious hair, big breasts and swaying hips. That's the only thing he could do since he knew he didn't stand a chance with a girl like her.

“Your crush?” Megumi quickly figured from his abrupt change of behavior. Ino shushed him, blushing intensely. “That confirms it,” Megumi didn't care much about his discovery.

“She doesn't know and doesn't have to know. We are just friends,” Ino tried to hide his feelings towards her.

“Whatever you say,” Megumi shrugged.

Everybody greeted each other as they met mid-way. Nanami and Kusakabe, the leaders of their respective teams, exchanged information about the situation. Ino and her exchanged greetings, pretending they were definitely not checking each other out. The situation was painfully obvious to Panda and Megumi.

“How are you doing? I heard from Shoko that you were in a mission earlier,” Ino asked her as smiley as usual.

“I was but finished earlier,” she answered as honest as usual. “Wow, she is so cool!” Ino thought. “How have you been?" she asked back.

"I am fine, doing my best, you know,” he said, staying as humble as he could. “He is so cute goddamnit!” she thought. "I just wished I wasn't working in Halloween night," he pouted.

"Same," she answered, crossing her arms disappointed. Ino started imagining her in many costumes. She would look cute as a cat, sexy as a with and hot as a demon. He shook his head to get rid of his naughty ideas.

"Hey Ino, can I ask you something?" Panda got closer to him, tired of hearing the dumb lovey doveys talk.

"What's up?" Ino asked as Panda pulled him to the side for a private convo.

"Do you like big or small breasts?" Panda asked him curiously, whispering. Ino blushed intensely and gulped hard at the dangerous question.

"Well… I always liked big breasts," Ino said, while peeking at her, she looked confused at the random private meeting.

Ino realized he didn't just like big breasts, he liked HER big breasts. He liked HER more than anything, but he was so afraid that she didn't like him back. It was silly to be afraid of that when they were about to do one of the most dangerous in the world.

“Stop fooling around, we are moving," Nanami scolded both teams. Ino pulled away from Panda to say “see ya later” to her.

"Maybe after this, we could watch a horror movie to celebrate our victory," Ino proposed his idea.

"Sounds good, I haven't gone to the cinema in a long time," she said excited.

"I meant at my house," Ino clarified with a determined look. She smiled.

"Sure."

Both teams continued their ways. Ino and her looked back at each other and smiled embarrassed as they caught themselves checking each other again. After losing each other from their respective sights, they focused back on the dangerous mission ahead of them. "After this, I'll finally confess," they thought.

[faint-kitten]

FK infodumping about Tony Stark in Midnight Suns (spoilers)

Tony.

Tony.

TONY.

Tony stark cannot stop being Tony in this fucking game. ||I taught him magic and his first instinct is to patent it and fucking sell it, and nepo hire me in to run the R&D Division.

I love this run of Tony Stark, because it's very much: Yeah he's a billionaire, he's trying, I know you're trying tony, and you don't get it. Everyone tolerates/likes him because they know he's trying and thinks he means well.

But he's a fucking billionaire. He's like when rich people just want's to be a little guy, hey I'm just a little guy like you! And then he just moves in and he's the worst.

Robbie and Peter start Shop because they want a place where they can get creative together without Know it all perfectionists leaning over their shoulders (Strange and Tony) and tony invites himself in, and proceeds to just run the little guys out because HE feels anxious and HE needs to feel like he's doing something. When you call him out, when Robbie calls out how he bought up a steel mill in his home town and just ruined everyone's jobs there because he never broke ground: Tony reveals he was in a pissing match with Oscorp, he bought it to beat oscorp, then found out the company was going under anyway and decided to cut his losses, and turn it into a PR spin. He fucking didn't know because it made his numbers go up, and everyone cheered, then he had a drink, and fucked off and assumed it would all be okay. He then apologizes saying he's trying to make up for it. This is AFTER telling Robbie and Peter that he liked making things as a kid and no one understood him and that's why he wants to be there. After literally being like: "pfft I can do this better, how hard could it be."

He joins the Midnight Suns and IMMEDIATELY takes over operations and muscles out Blade and Nico and Magik and robbie for control of day to day operations.

He's a fucking big rich prick, who just comes in and fucks it up without thinking about the little guys. He's so up his fucking ass.

There's so many little moments where they charactarize him as a rich guy who's just out of touch with normal ass people. It's so perfect. He can't process the world like everyone else, he can't imagine how they feel because he's so fucking rich and out of it, he can't fucking stop himself from just DOING Billionare shit.

We taught him how to do a little mysticism and he's like: "new department! new products! It's gonna be big. We'll sell it and you're gonna run it." Like, that's not why the Hunter taught you Magic. We didn't teach you magic for capitalism, we taught you because it's what we're fighting, we taught you because you're scared in a spooky house and you said you just wanted to understand, we fucking taught you because you had a mind and wanted to expand it, and were too embarressed to ask Doctor Strange. We taught you because for a BRIEF second you were a human being, and we wanted to help you and be your friend.

Like TONY we're trying to save the fucking world here. Magik invited me to limbo and I helped her with her trauma and she called me her friend. Robbie offered to let me crash on his couch, and meet his brother and hang out with him and Peter. Doctor Strange is learning to get over himself, and realize he's still worth something even if he isn't all knowing and all powerful. Blade and I discuss dealing with our darker halves and urges and made a pact to kill each other if we ever go bad, and he's trying to teach me there's more to life than "The hunt" the caretaker has drilled into my head.

Your idea of 'we're friends now' is making me head of a fucking department. Talking about taking what the Hunter taught you, and turning it into a project, a product, one of HUNDREDS of new ventures he can just piss money away on, get all excited about. One of hundreds of ventures he shits out a week in his excitement and like Peter fucking Molynuex you're pitching it and who fucking knows if it will actually go anywhere?

I love this game's approach to Tony even as it makes me hate him. Like what a way to sympathize with a human being, while also illustrating why rich people can't fundamentally be our friends. ||

The approach of: what if a Billionaire was sympathetic? He's just a little guy trying to do his best to undo his father's legacy, and he doesn't MEAN to hurt everyone's feelings step on the little guy and make billions. Can't you see he's trying soooo hard?

And the game's response is: "Great backstory, you're still a Billionaire."

Even if you turn him down and tell him that's not what magic is for he goes "Np I never take no for an answer :) " Like stop. You're the worst. (for the record, I am praising the game's take on tony, I think the writing, and acting, and themes they're working with are perfectly executed.)

[bullet-prooflove]

Past Mistakes - Part Twenty Two: Perfect - Mike Duarte x Reader (Feat: Joe Velasco)

Tagging: @mysoulisasunflower @resonmalvo @littleone65 @thesandbeneathmytoes @mydarkestsecretlol @evee87 @wooshwastaken @hearthockey @justreblogginfics @im-just-a-mississippi-girl @rosaliedepp @thatesqcrush @storiesofsvu @whateversomethingbruh @burningpeachpuppy @legit9thlunaticwarrior @kiwiithecrazybird @spooky-pomegranate @telepathay @weiwei0210 @spaghettificationandpretzels @plaidbooks @crazy4chickennuggets @kmc1989 @withakindheartx

Past Mistakes Series:

Part One: Try - Mike turns back up in your life after three years apart.

Part Two: Hope (NSFW) - Mike and you get reaquainted.

Part Three: California - Mike and you discuss the past.

Part Four: Favours - Mike asks Liv for a favour.

Part Five: Choices - Mike comes face to face with someone from his past.

Part Six: Truth Hurts - Mike begs you to tell him the truth about what happened three years ago.

Part Seven: Sharing - Mike and Joe have a conversation.

Part Eight: Buried - Mike discovers that McGrath’s misdeeds go far futher than he thought.

Part Nine: Complicated - Mike discusses moving forward.

Part 10: Feral - Mike returns to the apartment to find you’ve disappeared.

Part Eleven: Torture - You wake up in the basement.

Part Twelve: Fire - You and Joe discuss moving forward.

Part Thirteen: Lost Time - You and Mike get real on his porch.

Part Fourteen: Plan B - Mike always has a plan B.

Part Fifteen: Proud - Mike tells you how proud he is of what you’re doing.

Part Sixteen: Mattituck (NSFW) - You show Mike how much you love him.

Part Seventeen: Seven - Joe makes a discovery.

Part Eighteen: Patterns - Benson and Murphy discover the reality of McGrath’s misdeeds.

Part Nineteen: Mike & Nora - Joe learns the story of your relationship.

Part Twenty: Bad News - Joe calls Mike with bad news.

Part Twenty One: All The Way - You and Mike make a decision regarding your futures.

The only unofficial mail that Joe receives in his SVU pigeon hole are postcards from you. Today’s is of the Golden Gate Bridge in San Franisco, before that it was L.A and before that San Diego.

See you in Las Vegas! You’re written in your cursive scrawl. It arrives in an envelope with a hand drawn wedding invitation, something you’ve sketched on the back of a pink napkin. He can’t help but laugh because if there’s anything you and Mike aren’t, it’s conventional.

It’s been six months since Duarte retired from the Gang Unit, he’d taken his Mustang and you on the road trip that you had always talked about. Joe’s got a drawer full of postcards from the two of you, he can’t explain how much each and everyone means to him. What the three of you had been through had created a bond that was forged in fire and blood, a connection that stretches over the distance.

He takes his pen and ticks yes on the RSVP section of the invitation before snapping a picture and sending it to you. You respond with a heart emoji almost immediately and Joe books his plane ticket the next day.

***

When Joe arrives in Las Vegas, it’s you that’s waiting for him at the airport.

The three of you had gotten close in the aftermath of the investigation. He’d visited you and Duarte a handful of times before the two of you departed. You'd had stayed up most of the night shooting the shit, it had gotten deep at some points.

Joe had found himself discussing his life in Juárez, how he’d been recruited into a gang, send to Fortworth to perform a hit, that he’d run away to New York when he couldn’t do it. He’d told you both his secrets and in turn you’d shared yours. You’ve both lived in the darkness, endured it the same way he had. It makes the difference being around people understand what it’s like to carry that.

"Mike’s picking up the marriage licence." You tell him at the airport. 

You look good, healthy. You move with a confidence he isn’t used to seeing in you, you’re more relaxed, more grounded these days.

When the three of you sit down for dinner Joe notices that Mike seems to smile a lot more, he laughs with his whole body instead of that wry, suppressed chuckle. He realises he’s seeing the man that Mrs Evaristo talked about, the one that was happy, in love.

The place you’ve chosen to get married is the Glass Gardens Chapel, a stunning indoor themed venue with plush living trees lining the aisle and a glass ceiling that resembles the sky. It’s beautiful, Joe has never seen anything like it.

A smirk plays across Mike’s features when he sees Joe’s reaction.

“Did you think we’d be getting married by Elvis?” He teases the other man as he adjusts the cuffs of his suit jacket.

“It is a Vegas wedding.” Joe shoots back before taking up his position alongside Mike, his hands clasped in front of him.

Mike clears his throat as they wait for the music to begin.

“Thank you for including me in this.” Joe says, straightening his spine. “It means a lot to me that you asked me to be a part of it.”

Mike inclines his head towards Joe.

“You helped make this happen.” Mike says quietly. “That night I was planning to run, you were right. We would have spent the rest of our lives looking over our shoulders, it would have killed her. Now she’s free and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her as happy as she is today.”

“Give it a few more minutes and I’m sure that’ll change.” Joe teases before he tilts his head towards the entrance.  

The music starts to play, and Joe recognises the song ‘Home’ by the Magnetic Zeroes. It’s perfect, he thinks as you appear in the doorway.

Absolutely perfect.

Love Mike Duarte? Don’t miss any of his stories by joining the taglist here.

Want more Mike? Check out his Masterlist here!

Interested in supporting me? Join my Patreon for Bonus Content!

Like My Work? - Why Not Buy Me A Coffee

[c-c-cherry]

Thank you wonderful @justanotherinterneruser for tagging me in this silly little challenge! To reiterate the rules: pick 10 of your fics and post the first line of each? Teeheehee...

So going through my works, I realized I have a whopping 55 of them?! It has been a long time on here I suppose. I decided to randomly generate by number to make it fun. I wonder if anyone following on here have been around for all of these? (lookin at you jojo era cause those are definitely the oldest on here)

1 - "Reigen should have waited for Mob to get off school when he got the call." (Good ol' Area Hysteria, mp100. Working steadily on this but life has decided to make me internet absent as of late.)

2- "Hey, Giorno." (The Stoooooooorm. jjba fellas will remember back when this fic was my 2020 Area Hysteria hahaha)

3- “Dude…is this like, our first Halloween together?” (Morioh's spooky swamp stories, jjba. Silly halloween fic for a silly halloween)

4- "Alphonse Elric?" (Heavy Lifting, fma. Very short but I had a lot of fun teehee)

5- "Lady Palutena?" (Wingless words, kiu. Cry I promise I'll finish this soon)

6- "…and then after giving me shit for dragging him over here even though these missions are his job, he insisted that I have no idea what I'm talking about …." (Live Wire, fma. As soon as I fall back into this fandom its over for all of you.)

7 - Gilbert Blythe did not want to be a farmer. (The Art of Being Alone. Any awae fans out there? No? Didn't think so.)

8 - "Fucking Farore, Twi," Legend breathed out, "You made it seem like your Hyrule was a wasteland." (Where The Heart Is, loz/lu. Most self-indulgent gift fic I wrote for my own giftee's pleasure)

9 - "Killua liked to think that he wasn’t affected by anything." (In the Moment, hxh. You guys don't understand I have so many ideas for this fandom. I just need time and a good rewatch)

10 - “Has anyone seen my shoulder armour?” (Heart on your Armour, loz/lu. Making twilight and time bond is forever my unguilty pleasure)

***

What I've learned from this is that I love to start my works with dialogue. Good habit or bad habit?

I got no one really to tag but I ask @jjadegreen to do this if you want toooo. I also invite anyone reading this to just go ahead and do it but TAG ME TAG MEEEE I WANNA SEEEEE

[obanaispy]

FINAL GIRL.

synopsis ! can you make it through the night with a slasher without wanting to screw him? gojo satoru makes it hard to answer that question immediately, doesn’t he?

characters ! gojo satoru + you

warnings ! mention of blood + hinting at knives + cursing + nsfw + murdorrr

a/n ! happy spooky season! i miss connecting with you all through our horniness. stay dark!

so. i’m guessing halloween is one of your favorite holidays, hm? yeah, i was right there with you. that was until i found myself locked in gojo satoru’s room, my friend's bloodied bodies scattered throughout his parents' third vacation home and him nowhere to be found. did he not understand how suspicious that looked?

a knock at the door pulled me out of my deep pool of thoughts, my hands immediately gripping my taser a bit harder. ��who.. who is it?” i asked out with a cracked tone, immediately mentally kicking myself. “y/n? holy fuck it’s— it’s me, gojo. please let me in dude i don’t know what the fuck happened”. scoffing, i moved closer to the door. “do you think i’m an idiot? you probably know better than anyone what the fuck happened”.

gojo let out an exasperated sigh before responding, “look. i know shit looks weird right now but.. why would i fucking kill everyone in MY parents house? these floors cost more than your life” he whined— causing me to let out a dry laugh. it was hard to suspect such an idiot of a man. it honestly felt like borderline bullying. finally untensing, i unlocked the door before pulling him in and locking it behind me. “you idiot! who did you invite that would—” my words got stuck in my throat. before i could even turn around, i felt cold, pointy metal pressing into my lower back. gojo chuckled lowly.

“god.. you probably would’ve made a great final girl.”

*insert sex*

fin.

a/n: i’m sorry to prank you all! i just wanted to write something silly and fun before october is over. if you guys want a pt.2 with actual smut.. i could be swayed. although, trust. it will be filthy.

[pearblossommina]

ToG Read-A-Long, Kingdom of Ash, day 2

Ch 7

Dorian

Spider

Is it bad that I kinda like the spider 😂

I just think it’s cute that she told him “you can’t pronounce my name” and then instantly had a human-pronounceable name ready to give him. Girl’s been working on her human-sona all her life and now she finally has an opportunity to unveil it.

Idk, I like spooky characters that are actually friends. Suriel vibes. Hopefully she doesn’t murder them all in their sleep.

Ch 8

Reading about Aelin getting tortured is going to break my feeble heart, I might actually be too soft to endure this, it’s gonna give me nightmares.

I don’t really know Connall that well, but it sucks that Maeve had him stab himself to death. I feel bad for Fenrys too! Like ugh. Emotional damage.

Ch 9

I need a small morsel of hope to cling to right now. I hate this.

Ch 10

Hey, remember when he proposed to you while you were in dragon form

Remember when you said you wanted to slow this down

And now this is happening

Mixed signals, Lysandra

He needs cuddles

That’s what he needs

If you wanna be with Aedion you gotta go get your dragon bod on and cuddle him up

Ch 11

I’m actually kinda surprised to hear Chaol’s father is the last stronghold against Erawan. I guess it makes sense, since he wasn’t too fond of his son serving the King of Adaran… but it just seems like all the villains should be in league with one another, doesn’t it?

If they’re gonna go where witches are - I wonder if we’ll get a sweet Dorian x Chaol reunion?

Probably not. Since I think they’re in two different places and Dorian wants to go into Morath.

But maybe the witches will be nice, and want to make out and join forces!

Ch 12

Fuck, Aelin. I’m broken too. It’s good she has some fight left in her. Very surreal to see her dead mom’s ghost come to comfort her.

Rowan and the others are on the way tho! They’re near enough to feel your fighting spirit! Keep hoping, keep fighting, because babe is on his way. And he’s bringing friends.

Ch 13

They found the Crochans! Do they want to join forces!

This old witch knows exactly who Manon is!

She’s family! And she’s very welcoming! Aw!

Ch 14

Omg ok shit just got real

I think I have too high of hopes for Manon “the child of peace who’s supposed to unite the witches.” She didn’t even try, lol. Just brutally murdered those two covens. I mean - it’s fine - they were kind of being aggressive and came at them first - and maybe it was a show of faith to the Crochan’s to fight and kill so many ironteeth, but! I’m team Dorian a little bit. Team, what if those wyverns were given love and good riders. Team, just because you were raised and trained to be evil doesn’t mean that’s all you’ll ever be.

My heart goes out to him, with that severed Yellowlegs head. He’s learning the hard way that witches can be just as breakable as human women.

Ch 15

“Cyrene slumped to the ground, eyes unseeing.”

Jesus, Dorian! Chill out!

I actually did like her, lol. It’s ok, I wasn’t that attached. Maybe she taught him a little bit about shapeshifting? In her final moment? Maybe Dorian can harness the ability to shapeshift and use that to get into Morath. As a mouse, or something.

And the thing with Manon. Idk. I guess I don’t really know what it means to unite the witches and bring peace. Because some of those witches are vile and violent and deserve to be brutally slaughtered, like Manon’s grandma, who’s pretty much never done anything to redeem herself. But then, other witches are pretty chill and cool once you get to know them. They’re people too, with hopes and dreams and feelings. So I feel like just inviting the Ironteeth here to the Crochan camp and killing them impressively is NOT the way to go about it. But idk if Manon knows any other ways.

Maybe Dorian can help her, but idk.

It’s good to see them talking to each other. Their relationship needs development, lol, so I’m happy to see them developing.

[fazfacts]

CR1TIKAL FNAF 4 GAMEPLAY AND COMMENTARY SENTENCE STARTERS!

❝ Obviously, this party is in celebration of those new animatronic parrots I keep seeing on TV. ❞

❝ Is that the Planters Peanuts’ mascot? ❞

❝ That’s not very nice. ❞

❝ I'm not scared now, I’m just crying. ❞

❝ Alright, whatever you say, sport. ❞

❝ There’s no need to cry. ❞

❝ There’s no need to cry, that golden gummy bear thing is with us. ❞

❝ Way to look on the bright side. ❞

❝ Goodness gracious, I have a feeling this one’s going to be spooky. ❞

❝ I’m coming, Daddy. ❞

❝ Am I some type of baby rhinoceros trying to impale things with my horn? ❞

❝ I think I now know the optimal strategy. ❞

*squeak*

❝ Oh my fucking goodness, it squeaks! ❞

❝ What kind of parents give their son a squeaky toy meant for the dogs? ❞

❝ Give me that, that’s going to [___]! ❞

❝ [___] looks like they’ve seen some universe-altering things in their life. ❞

❝ Checking right door for supernatural disturbances. ❞

❝ Investigating left door for bogies. ❞

❝ How are things in your neck of the woods? ❞

❝ Give me a report. Is everything in order? ❞

❝ Affirmative. ❞

❝ Was that a ghost, soldier? A demon? ❞

❝ Is everything okay over here? ❞

❝ Alright, if you say so. ❞

❝ Checking right doorway, watch my flank. ❞

❝ The squeaking wards off the evil spirits. ❞

❝ He’s the best comrade I could ever ask for. ❞

❝ Still no action in the closet. ❞

❝ Give me a sitrep. ❞

❝ Roger that. ❞

❝ Another paranormal phenomenon. ❞

❝ He’s not squeaking, something has gone awry! ❞

❝ He’s not [___], something has gone awry! ❞

❝ No squeaks. Shit, we’re in trouble now. ❞

❝ If he ain’t squeakin’, my ass starts leakin’. ❞

❝ Anything can happen now. ❞

❝ Oh, thank goodness! Thank heavens! ❞

❝ Oh, thank goodness! Thank heavens! A squeak! ❞

❝ Once he goes back to squeaking, my shit stops peeking...from my anus. ❞

❝ That’s how you fucking do it right there. ❞

❝ Is this your doing, you waffle with arms? ❞

❝ That’s my favorite spot on the couch, please get off. ❞

❝ I don’t understand these directions at all. ❞

❝ Well, this isn’t very hard. ❞

❝ He can’t do anything if I’m shining a fucking flashlight in his fucking face. ❞

❝ Is everything okay, though, comrade? ❞

❝ Squeak for me. ❞

❝ Shit, no squeaks this time. It’s not safe. ❞

❝ Let me check with my ally. ❞

❝ We’re back in business. ❞

❝ Nope, I guess the business is still closed. ❞ 

❝ Why the fuck did he squeak when it wasn’t safe? ❞

❝ Is he a turncoat? ❞

❝ He must have known there was a duck outside my door. ❞

❝ That kind of shit gets you outcasted. ❞

❝ I don’t know what to do in this situation. ❞

❝ All I can do is shine a flashlight and look around. ❞

❝ All I can do is shine a flashlight and look around. It’s not exactly the best type of defense or offense, really. ❞

❝ Is this what you wanted when you came to my room? ❞

❝ Sorry, I didn’t invite you, please get out. ❞

❝ Knock knock. Who’s there? Nobody. ❞

❝ No soliciting. ❞

❝ I’m not interested, thank you. ❞

❝ You must have been raised by the pirates. ❞

❝ I was raised by Tommy Pickles. ❞

❝ A baby’s gotta do what a baby’s gotta do. ❞

❝ I can open and close this door all night. ❞

❝ I can keep this flashlight shined all fucking night. ❞

❝ He’s fucking afraid of me now. ❞

❝ What are you doing? ❞

❝ I was playing with the dog. ❞

❝ How fucking rude. Unreal. ❞

[xsupersiren]

ITS SPOOKY SZN! 💀

Time to go do spooky bitch shit!!! 🕷️

Today I texted the girls and said I want to go get readings from a local shop. We need a girls night out and what better activities than witchy stuff? My friend just had a baby and needs some time to unwind and probably vent. My other friend is a total witchy babe.

Tbh, part of the reason I want to go get a reading is to see if the rumor is true about another friend. Some girl accused her of giving her a roofie. Normally, you don’t think your friend would ever do that. But… one night I went out with about 40 coworkers. She was my partner the way girls always partner up before going out to make sure someone is looking after them. Well, that night, someone drugged me.

So you see, that’s why I’m taking this accusation seriously. The common denominator is this friend of mine. I like that she’s controlling and manipulative and a little bit of a psychopath. I am too. But I would never roofie anyone. I really hope she wouldn’t either.

What she didn’t expect that night was that I would invite a date at the last minute. Matter of fact, I didn’t invite him until we were heading to the second venue. I got a drink with her while I waitied for him when we got there. I think that was when I was drugged. By her? Not sure. Thank god E was there. He was my guardian angel.

I’ve never been to this friend’s house but that night she insisted I go to her house. Two other friends offered to take me instead. She kept insisting. E ended up doing what I asked, which is to go home. He was the only person who listened to what I wanted. He delivered me to my family at my house and caught an Uber home. My knight in shining armor.

Since that day nearly two years ago, I’ve never been invited into her house. Not even when I dropped her off after going out. Not when I helped her deliver boxes to her house. I was never invited past the front gate.

Since then she’s become very possessive of me. Some say she has a crush on me but she’s never shown me that. Then again I’m a huge flirt naturally and don’t realize when others aren’t just being charming back.

She lives with her man who reminds me of my biological mom’s very functional methhead boyfriend. They have a party house. Always inviting other coworkers to party. She and I have been calling each other bestie for two years now and yet she has never invited me to her house… other than that night.

I don’t do illicit drugs. I know she does. I know she’s an alcoholic. I only drink on special occasions, never more than 3 drinks over the course of the night. Does this warrant a suspicion? Yes. I’m not into that stuff because my entire life I was exposed to addicts and I know you can’t trust them. But I trusted her. Everyone trusts her. Who she is at work is so different than who she is outside of work.

So, I’m going to go to the psychic and ask her what happened that night, what this friend’s intentions are, and if she had anything to do with this little girl getting roofied the other night.

Can’t get spookier than a rapist.

[briannapuppet]

Why I'm Spooky

Sleep

I usually fall asleep on purpose. You're not supposed to be able to fall asleep on purpose, but I had insomnia when I was a kid and I developed a hack for it:

I close my eyes and try to meditate, try to not think.

After a while, I hear words, usually phrases that don't mean anything to me.

When I hear a phrase, I focus on it and try to repeat that word back.

Usually, within about 5 repetitions of 2 and 3, I fall into a dream-rich sleep.

Since I was having such cool dreams and because my life sucked, I started to practice lucid dreaming and started to analyze my dreams.

I began to remember my dreams more and I noticed that every once in a while I had a particularly vivid dream that would come true - almost always about something geeky that only I was interested in. I also notice that sometimes I get déjà vu internally - like, I'm suddenly reminded of a dream or flashing back, but the real life thing is just a trigger.

Subconscious, Synchronicity, Déjà vu

I was happy to be able to sleep, but I thought my hack was weird and I didn't know how to interpret it.

I was doing Zen meditation at the time (had been put there by parents because I was a troubled youth; the people were smart and nice; I liked it a lot). The sensei encouraged us to try and quiet our minds. She said that when a thought came up, it was something from our subconscious or karma, and we should just let the thought happen.

The thing is, the thoughts that pop into my head often predict something happening or are somehow related to the outside world. Some psychologists call this synchronicity. Example:

I had stayed up all night watching Helluva Boss S1E8 on repeat, the one where Vortex invites Loona to Beelzebub's house party. Like, "It's so beautiful it makes me cry, and I'm watching it over and over again to cry-stim and process trauma." I got an urge to go to a certain chocolate-focused cafe I visit maybe 3 times a year. I found parking immediately. As I walked up to the cafe, I saw a Huskey with markings similar to Loona, and a heterochromatic German Shepherd who reminded me of Vortex (except Tex's eyes are a different colors because of an injury).

Something like this happens basically every day. I don't freak out about it anymore.

WTF

So, I need to have some kind of a religion or metaphysical belief just to figure out how to deal with this.

Most normies would call this magical thinking and start suspecting that I have schizophrenia. And, I did have two Grippy Socks vacations when I was a baby tran for intrusive thoughts, paranoia and restlessness. But, these were the result of my ex-partner gaslighting and invalidating my identity as a trans woman - as soon as I was away from my ex, I returned to normal. And when I was at the psychiatric hospitals, I met people who were way weirder than me and completely dysfunctional, like crazy person on the street guys. So I'm not that.

I've been on daily antipsychotics and I didn't like it. The standard "I don't like feeling mentally sluggish," but, also, weird heart sensations, and I feel like I get taken advantage of more easily because I'm too trusting. So it leads to some really bad situations for me! Now I have an as-needed that I take when I want my mind to quiet and to sleep.

For a long time, I worked under a skeptical Jungian model, like "The material world exists, but the brain is super powerful and can produce seemingly-magical effects, like predicting personally-meaningful events or reading your best friend's mind."

That wasn't what I believed. I believed in God and magic and shit, I prayed and meditated and tried to do the right thing, but I wasn't sure enough to make any life changes, I think Buddhists are too nihilistic for me, I don't fit in with Christians, and most other religions are ethnocentric. Even Wicca: at this point you have to be a second-generation white hippie to join, and they're all Beatles people 🤮.

Demonolatry

But then, I watched Hazbin Hotel and Helluva Boss, and I thought about life differently.

Like, what if the gods and demons are just people? Of course the shows are fictional works produced by hoomans like me, but what if they're right about what demons are like?

I had always assumed they'd all be kind of judgmental and domineering, and they would care what I believed because it mattered on a cosmic scale or something. But if (for example) Asmodeus was just a sexy geek whose special interest was sex, it's easy to imagine him as a benevolent person I'd want to know.

I knew about as much about demonology as any goth, and I had studies magic on and off. But I thought, "You know, I bet the reason demons, djinn, etc have a bad rap is because narcissistic blowhards keep trying to do contracts with them. Why would you want a contract with a demon? I'd rather just be friends with one, and I won't be prejudiced against it for being... whatever the fuck it is!"

The other thing about the Hellaverse that's meaningful for me is the moral message. It's great! Forgiveness is good, but so are boundaries, self-understanding, self-defense, and fun.

And so I started trying to get in touch with demons, assuming that if I was polite and had good boundaries that they might at least chat with me if they wanted. I didn't have any specific ritual, I just meditated, did yoga or art or sang, and called out to a few demons, trying to establish a dialogue.

I feel like it's been working. I've tried to get in touch with 5 in total, and 4 responded. I usually feel a sense of presence and I pick up images, words or thoughts that contain a narrative or message.

And then, after a lot of search crafting, I stumbled on the word "Demonolatry" as a description for what I'm doing and where my values are. I like almost everything that I've read so far, and I think it's a really nice group of ethical weirdos. It feels really liberating to have a religion that isn't about shame and guilt.

[horseshoegirl]

Set Me Alight: Part 2 - Abracadabra

📜Hey, All 💛I didn't intend for there to be a gap between this part and the last, but I had to take some time away. Unfortunately and sadly, my grandmother passed away two weeks ago. She had been ill for some time, and I had been helping to support her care at her home since I last posted.

Anyway, thank you all for the support on the first part!!! I love how you all have taken to Midge! I've changed the lineup a little bit as I decided to make this its own part! It's like I said, I'm just letting my mind take me where it wants to go for this one!

❗️+18, Strong Language, Enemies to Lovers, Original Female Character, Short OFC, Bradley Bradshaw x Natasha Trace, flashbacks to college, strong language, insecure Midge, Alcohol, Halloween, mentioning stereotypes and pranks (scaring someone). 

#3.6k Words

Part 1 | Masterlist | Part 3

*THAT Morning Four Years Ago*

It wasn't one of Natasha's brighter ideas. No, it was probably one of the most foolish things she could have ever come up with since deciding to come live with you. But you suppose, in the end, you understood why she wanted to do it. 

Your shared apartment off campus was ideal for this type of thing. Away from prying eyes, away from campus security and the head of the dorm rooms. It belonged to your Aunt, once a warehouse now completely renovated into an industrial apartment. So Space was never an issue and you had no neighbours, hence why she wanted you to stay here as you completed your fine arts degree - every college frat boy and popular girl's dream come to life. 

It was also probably one of the reasons why Nat came up with this idea, wanting to get you up and out of your studio long enough actually to meet people. If you weren't going to detach yourself from a paintbrush, from your school notes, she was going to take matters into her own hands and bring people to you.

Halloween became her perfect excuse to do just that.

When she broached the topic of throwing a party one night as you stood in front of a massive canvas, you immediately wanted to throw your painter's palette at her head. Take college and a party on a night where anyone had any excuse to dress up as who they wanted and drink whatever they wanted to spooky season-themed music and put them together?

A terrible idea. Plain and fucking simple.

 It warranted trouble and unnecessary drama. Drama you wanted no part in. These things always got out of hand without meaning, too, and you knew someone would manage to hook up in either one of your bedrooms or even the bathroom before the night was over. Or passed out drunk on the floor.

She didn't protest when you said no. In fact, she left it alone for the rest of the week.

Then came the subtle bribes. 

A cup of coffee in a new Halloween-themed mug was in her hands as she woke you up one morning to ensure you'd make it to class on time. When you came home from working at the campus art store, there was a new set of black and orange acrylic paints sitting on the kitchen island. She had even planned a Halloween movie night - Practical Magic and Rocky Horror and Beetlejuice - with all the fixings and morsels of candy you could eat.

She asked you again two weeks to the day. While you were slightly more willing to agree that it might be a nice idea, you were still cautious about having a party... particularly about who she would invite.

While she might have left her sorority after all that drama, Nat still had friends in that community she was close with. Friends, you were positive, talked shit about you behind your back without really knowing you. The question of why Nat would befriend someone like you was probably the main course for the dishing of gossip.

Bradley would also come, which you didn't mind whatsoever. You liked him, and he treated Nat well. But Bradley's presence would warrant an invitation to his friends - literally the entire football team. And their friends. And their girlfriends.

Your answer was the same. 

"Still no."

But the bribes didn't stop there. No, they extended into multiple drives to Party City while saying the two of you could go to the big art store on the corner of Brant Street - the one you always said you wanted to go to but never had the time. It was in the Amazon orders that showed up at the door, and it was in the pack of Lime White Claws she'd bring home from the liquor store. It was the playlist full of instrumental Halloween covers, almost always on repeat as the two of you studied together.

Nat had been conditioning you to give in all along, slowly wearing you down while she prepared for the eventual, forthcoming yes.

When you finally figured it out, you were mad. Mad that she would do something behind your back like this and think she could treat you like that. But it didn't last long. Instead, you came to the realization that maybe she had been missing the social interaction that came with living with a sorority. That she had been missing her friends. She was living here now, and despite your best efforts, she still needed to know this place was hers as much as it was yours. 

Maybe hosting a Halloween Party wouldn't be a bad thing after all?

The morning of the party, you had woken up early. Earlier than Nat. It was still dark out as you dragged the many boxes of supplies and decorations out into the living space. You had thrown a few pieces of rolled-up fabric over your shoulder and tossed them into the big armchair once you figured out what boxes held what decorations. The first box had the string lights the art department had loaned you, and when you opened it up, readying yourself to untangle the monstrosities, you had the surprise of your life: uncovering a realistic spider thrown into the mix. 

Curse the bloody art department for playing a prank on you. 

When Nat finally got up that morning, sunlight now streaming through the windows, she was welcomed to the sight of said lights having been strung along the ground, ready to be put up and hung from the wall. She had to step around carefully and through the wires, worried about stepping on a light bulb, as you had aligned them all with the wall sockets, already attempting to daisy chain the hell out of them.

"Maeve?"

"Over here!" you called out.

Nat followed your voice down the hall, only to find you standing on a ladder, plastering the stripe of LED lights into the edge of the wall and ceiling. The piles of fabric had been pooled on the top step, and she figured out you were attaching them at the same time as the lights, letting the material fall down the wall to create an interesting ambiance for tonight.

"This is..." she trailed off, looking at all the boxes and materials you'd spent your waking hours organizing. You turned on the ladder, holding on to the edges of a black piece of fabric.

"It's a lot, I know," you quickly answered her. "But you told me to go crazy with decorations, and I am an artist."

"It's not that..." she trailed off, reaching down to scoop a handful of spiders into her hand, letting them fall back into the box. "I'm just wondering if we should have started yesterday."

You placed your hands on your hips, eyeing her carefully. "We couldn't have. You had that test, and I had that art project to finish."

You may have gone overboard for a simple Halloween party. But you wanted this to be special... and you ever half-assed anything in your life if you could help it.

"We can manage, don't you think?" you tried to convince her, turning back to hook the piece of fabric in your hand into the ceiling. 

Nat reached into the back hem of her sleep shorts, finding her phone plastered up against the skin of her back. "Nope, I'm going to call in the cavalry."

"The cavalry?" you questioned aloud. The second you let the black fabric fall to the ground, you realized who she was talking about.

"Oh, no way!" you shouted out, immediately stepping down from your advantage point to stop her from sending that text. Already, Nat had stood in the process of writing out said message when you hit the floor. You cursed yourself for leaving out so many tripping hazards as you raced to stop her.

"As much as Bradley would help because you asked him to, all the other guys on the team are going to scoff and laugh and not see the worth in something like this!"

Nat only laughed at your protest, hitting send and holding her phone out of your reach as you lunged for it. "You clearly don't know them like I do."

"No, I don't," you argued back, trying to swipe at her phone, hoping once you managed to get it, you could hit resend on the message before Bradley saw it. "I'm a small geek of a person that doesn't do all the popular group shit. I'm not even in their league!"

"That's not true, and you know it!"

Nat used your height to her advantage, holding her phone high above her head, well out of your reach. You even tried to jump, but Nat quickly saw what you were attempting to do. "Maeve, stop it," she chided playfully but with an undercurrent of seriousness. "You always sell yourself short. Those guys aren't the judgmental jocks you think they are. You need to meet people! Mingle!"

Giving up on the battle for her phone, you dropped your hands to your hips, cocking your eyebrow. "Really? Sell myself short?"

Nat grimaced, dropping her hand. "Sorry, poor choice of words."

You weren't mad. Not really. Cause the second you dropped your hand, you lunged, successfully grabbing her wrist only to peel her phone out of her hand.

"Maeve!"

You knew each other's passwords, so getting into her phone wasn't an issue. But it was too late. As you went to swipe for the message, there, on her screen, was a reply from Bradley.

We'll be there after lunch <3

"Shit!" You shouted out, dropping your head back on your shoulders. With your eyes closed, you held out her phone, urging her to take it back. She stood there with an amused smile on her face, crossing her arms as she took you in. 

"It's not going to be that bad, Maeve." 

"You don't know that," you cried out. "I don't want our place to turn into some frat house blowout." 

"Frat house blowout? Really?" she laughed, taking her phone back from you. 

"You know what I mean." 

You finally opened your eyes hesitantly to see a soft expression across Nat's face. Her optimism was infectious, one of the many things that drew the two of you together as friends. It brought you back to that moment in time when the two of you realized that in that small corner of the library, you'd have to pull an all-nighter to get your assignment done. 

It was that same face staring back at you, wide and hopeful, asking you to trust her. 

"The football team isn't that bad. It's only Bradley's friends who are coming to help out. I promise they will behave and at the first sign of trouble, or the first art diss, they will have to answer to me, okay?" 

You bit your lip, working the soft flesh hard between your teeth. "The first art diss, I don't care, I'm unleashing my wrath." 

Nat punched the air dramatically, her eyes sparkling with excitement and sheer amusement. You shook your head, wondering if you were going to come to regret this. 

"Besides," she added causally. "A lot of them are single?" 

You grumbled out a string of words, stomping off as best you could with the lights in the direction of your room, willing whatever you needed to get through the rest of the day would grace you with its presence. 

Nat was still laughing when you slammed the door. 

—

"You got your costume ready?"

You smirked at her words, knocking her shoulder as she sat next to you on the couch. You teased out, "Wouldn't you like to know?"

All had been forgiven once you remerged from your room, realizing that maybe a little help wouldn't be such a bad thing. The feeling didn’t last long, though, your head now full of completing thoughts such as, “They are not going to like me,” and “They are going to fuck up your decorations so bad nobody is going to want to come back.”

Maybe your guests will get too drunk to notice.

Nat smiled at you, all toothy and wide. "Maeve! You spent hours at that sewing machine. And here you were, so against having a Halloween party. Come on... I know you... you're excited!"

Hiding your emerging grin, you shook your head, pinning another spider into the fake cobwebs. "It's an art cliche, according to your standards."

She pouted, handing you another handful of the tiny black things. "Just tell me, please?"

Cupping the creepy fake things into your hand, you regarded her sad expression with a shake of your head, knowing you'd have to give her a little bit of detail if you wanted to get out of this one without completely spoiling the surprise.

"It's orange and inspired by a piece of artwork. That's all I'm going to say on the matter."

Nat dramatically stopped her foot out of good fun, making you chuckle.

"You're the one who didn't want to take that bird art history course I recommended. The orange would have been a dead giveaway."

"If it's anything like the dress you helped me make for mine..."

You shushed her, handing her the cobweb so she could put it in one of the boxes next to the couch.

The two of you were trying to organize the decorations for what you wanted into boxes and spread them across the apartment to make it easier for the guys. The hallway to your bedrooms, the bathroom, the kitchen, the living space, everything save for the things you wanted to tape to the ceiling and the lights, all had multiple piles. 

After you finished with the cobwebs, the two of you decided to cut lengths of streamers and start taping them to the ceiling in intricate patterns. Standing on a ladder, you reached out for a couple at a time from Nat, who was handing them to you with ease. You had your earphones in as you worked, as did Nat, who routinely counted out the same lengths of black and orange streamer each time. 

She suddenly tapped you on the leg, and you twisted on the step, pulling out an earphone.

"I'm going to make sure the drinks are ready for when the team arrives."

You waved her off, pushing the tiny device back in, hearing nothing but music as you stretched to pin the end of the streamer up against the junction of the wall.

You worked for a little bit more, alternating between the orange and black material, hoping it would look like what you pictured inside your head when all was said and done. That was until you felt another tap on the outside of your thigh.

Twisting on the ladder, you half expected to see Nat handing you another cutting of orange streamer. Only, you came face to face with Bradley, way too close for comfort, a shit-eating across his face. You shrieked, and the action was enough to make you lose your footing on one of the higher steps. 

Unfortunately for you, you lost your grip on the side of the ladder, and you flailed out your arms in some last-ditch attempt to save yourself. Your eyes instinctively slammed themselves shut against your will, and no matter where you flung your arms out to grab onto something, your arms only cut through thin air.

It happened in a matter of seconds, and you were hopeless to do anything but fall. 

Awaiting the impact of the hard floor, you stocked up, bracing yourself for the pain. Instead, you were surprised when you hit a pair of soft, strong arms, your body being cradled sideways across a massive chest.

It took you a second to realize there was an actual hand gripping your waist. And another holding your legs. The grip is tight, and whosoever arms you in, they feel secure, protective even. You even go as far as to say the chest you're pressed against is also reassuring, the sensation of firm muscles beneath the fabric of his shirt expanding and contracting against your body grounding. 

With the knowledge you weren't going anywhere, nor were you falling to your demise, you opened your eyes up to the face of your timely saviour. But it wasn't the outline of his nose or the sharpness of his cheekbones that drew you in. It wasn't the colour of his hair or the smile stretching across his face either. It was, to a pair of eyes, the greenest shade you had ever seen.

His mouth was forming words, but you couldn't hear what he was saying over the music blasting in your ears. Panting hard, you shifted in his arms, leaning down so he'd set you back down on your feet gently. Your fingers trailed down his arms, feeling the strong muscles flexing underneath your touch as you regained your footing.

You pulled your earbuds from your ears, gasping out, "What?"

"He said I shouldn't kill one of our hosts," Bradley pipped up from behind you, fiddling with one of the remaining balls of the streamer.

There was a quip forming somewhere in the back of your mind, readying itself to be unleashed on Bradley. Something along the lines of, “You don’t say?” or the more vulgar, “What the fuck were you thinking scaring someone on a fucking ladder?” but they never came.

You were too entranced by the man currently standing in front of you, a self-assured smirk across his face.

“Thank you,” you managed to exhale instead. The man dramatically bowed, holding out his hand palm up in a grandiose gesture that reminded you of a gentleman from a period drama. Still leaning over, he lifted his head, the same smirk still plastered across his face.

“Jake Seresin,” he offered coyly. “Your saviour.”

You laughed softly, trying to stop the shake in your hand as you reached for his. “Saviour, huh? Are you in the business of saving women from falling off ladders?”

Jake's reply came with a twinkle in his eye and a soft squeeze of his hand, "Just the pretty ones."

Warmth spread across your cheeks, and embarrassment flooded your chest. You hoped the blush wasn’t too noticeable or that your pulse wasn't jumping out of your throat. 

“Oh, don’t fall for his charms, Maeve. I mean, he has some redeeming qualities, but Casanova here is hardly worth a catch,” Bradley remarked with a casual smile, catching the ball of streamer he tossed up only to throw it at Jake. 

Jake’s hand flew up, grabbing the flimsy material effortlessly somewhere behind you. Standing there, you couldn’t help but feel a flutter in your stomach as he brought his hand between the two of you, handing it to you. You took it without bothering to look at his hand.

“Maeve,” he rolled the name off his tongue. “You don’t hear that name that often. It’s that Irish?”

You opened your mouth to reply with something about how it literally meant, ‘she who intoxicates,’ when Nat suddenly turned on a speaker, the apartment literally sounding like something out of a nightclub to remixed Halloween music. She ran towards you, and Bob, Ruben, Javy, and Mickey were on her heels. The second she was within arm's distance, she hooked her arm through yours, calling out, “Shots!”

You shot Jake a desperate look, mouthing, “Help me,” as you let Nat drag you away from him. Jake chuckled, following the pair of you to the kitchen with Bradley making a grab for the hair on the back of his head, successfully pulling him into a headlock only to mess up his hair.

Nat let you go when the pair of you reached the counter, making for the tequila first before Bradley. As the others crowded your kitchen island in search of a drink, Jake placed a gentle hand on your back, guiding you to the empty side of the counter. He seemed at ease as he carefully swiped two tiny red solo cups from under Nat's nose as she started taking orders from the rest of the group and placed them down on the counter. 

Jake reached for the bottle of whiskey and held it out between the two of you. He shook the glass bottle, making the brown liquid slosh around.

"Wanna shot?"

You nodded once, watching admiringly as Jake expertly twisted the cap and poured out two shots into the tiny red cups. From behind his frame, you could see the pumpkin Nat and you had carved a few nights ago into a Jack Skellington face, silently judging you. Setting the bottle aside, he handed you one of the cups, and you fought with yourself not to fumble it.

He held his up as you let your hand remain frozen mid-air, a toast on his lips. But somebody shouted out, "Wait!" and Jake dropped his hand, turning to face them with a scowl. 

"Everyone get over here!" Nat yelled out, pulling you away from Jake by your arm again before you could even utter a thanks. She made sure everyone gathered around in a circle with their chosen drink in hand before she lifted her cup up high.

"Cheers!" she shouted. Everyone mocked her shout, lifting all the tiny cups up to hers. The plastic crunched as they touched, liquid sloshing over the sides. Your laugh echoed Nat's as your hand became soaked, and on the opposite side of the circle, your eyes caught Jake's as he grinned at the sight of you.

You smiled right back, never taking your eyes off him as your lips met the tiny rim of your red solo cup.

She doesn't hate him yet!

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-Lucky/Wickett/Em

Part 3: You're so Vain - In progress

[darlenefblog]

Just putting this out into the universe

I've been on edge all day. Early this morning I had a strange dream that only 1 piece makes sense. I spoke with my grown nephew last night about business so it makes sense he was in my dream this morning but in the dream he was only about 9 or 10.

In this dream I was in one room and the phone would ring, I'd poke my head around the corner and ask who it was. My nephew wouldn't say a word but hand me the phone. This happened a few times and I can't remember who was calling but it must not have been important stuff. The last call was my dead husband, dead 11 years now. I answered the phone "hello". I hear Michael clear as day say "Darlene" & I said "yep". Not happy to hear from him at all. In my dream he wasn't dead, so I was just pissed to hear from him. He said, "Help me I'm" and then it was white noise, static. When's the last time anyone heard that sound. I woke completely up and was not freaked so much as upset and angry that it had happened. It was about 5 so I decided to try and sleep a bit more. Before I could nod off I'll be damned if there wasn't a knock on my bedroom window, the one by my side of the bed. 3 knocks. I got up, opened the blinds, & of course there wasn't anyone there. Later I went out to check the screen & see if the wind could have knocked it into the glass & the answer is a huge no. WTF is going on. The last time he got through to me was when my dog died, our dog really. That pissed me off too, he ruffled my bangs, scared the shit out of me.

I believe that when we're in the in-between space, not asleep and not awake yet, is when we're vulnerable. Unable to move but our minds are alert; doctors call it sleep paralysis. There seems to be a thinness between here and there & it's easy for things to get through to us. Mostly people but my dog did bark to let me know she was in Heaven like I told her she would be. I've heard conversations that had nothing to do with me. I've heard many things; some were awful & scared the shit out of me. This has been happening to me off and on most of my life; my mother told me I was a spooky kid. Strange otherworld stuff just pisses me off these days, not much of it is too scary. There's no point in telling your doctor, there's always an excuse. Sleep deprivation, night terrors, wild imagination. So many people don't believe. I do.

And if you happen to hear or see anything strange my advice is to act like you don't. Don't acknowledge it or scream or in any way show you know what happened. I think it invites trouble.

[ficsforeren]

Shadow Kiss

Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader

Genre: Vampire AU, Roommates AU, Smut, Fluff, Comedy

Summary: Supernatural creatures don’t scare you, so when the cute neighbor who lives just across the hallway offers you a chance to move in for cheaper rent, you agree in a heartbeat–even when he consumes human blood on a daily basis and making thirst trap videos on TikTok for a living.

Warnings: vampire sex, drunk sex, sex in front of a mirror, blood sucking, unprotected sex, slight choking, swearing, alcohol consumption. 

Word Count: 18K (I'm sorry, he's such a diva in this fic, I had to include a lot of his crazy antics 💀)

I'm very proud to announce that this is my first collab with Nokky from @rainbuniart! Thank you for the amazing drawing, baby. I can't wait to see your Vampire Prince Eren fanart next 😍😍😍

Supernatural things don’t really scare you. Growing up in a family that tells urban legends and mystical myths as bedtime stories makes you feel somewhat reserved toward spooky stuff, to the point that you won’t even bat an eyelash during a jump scare at literally any scary movie out there. It’s not like you’ve seen any supernatural creatures with your own eyes but you believe in their existence, especially when you live in a town where freaky things happen on a daily basis.

You’re not sure about werewolves and zombies, but vampires do roam the earth the second the moon replaces the sun. It’s not merely a rumor anymore, it’s a fact. But they keep their presence a secret, trying to act as humanly as possible so they won’t gather unnecessary attention. And since no one has found any dead bodies with bite marks or severe blood loss, people don’t identify them as a threat. You perceive things similarly. As long as they don’t bother you, then you can coexist in peace. That’s what you believe.

So when you visit your neighbor in the middle of the night, the unbelievably hot guy who lives just across the hallway, you figure you’ll see him smiling back, maybe even offer you a cup of coffee out of courtesy. Now, you don’t usually barge into someone else’s apartment even when the front door is unlocked, but seeing how the two of you are already on a first-name basis, always greeting each other with a nod whenever your eyes make eye contact, you think to yourself, Yeah, he wouldn’t mind if I come in, would he? What’s the worst thing that could happen anyway? He’s too cute to be a serial killer. Which, you realize soon enough, was poor, terrible logic on your part.

But you twist open his doorknob with a click and invite yourself in.

So clearly, you did not expect to see him sitting bare-chested on the couch with his girlfriend’s legs hooked around his waist. Clearly, you did not expect to see his hand yanking at the roots of her hair, forcing her to expose the column of her neck and making her call his name in the most wanton moan you’ve ever heard in your life—even if you’ve had a fair share of watching porn movies (for, umm, research purposes). And you most clearly did not expect to see him sinking his canines deep into her skin, paying no mind to the hot, crimson liquid that taint her bare shoulder, and groaning in bliss as he relishes the taste of her blood.

So naturally, the only thing you can think of is:

Oh shit.

“Wait!” A hand finds its way to tangle around your wrist when you slip behind his front door to run back to your apartment. His icy cold skin makes you flinch in surprise but you keep your face still. As you turn around to see the owner, you’re greeted by a pair of red, glowing eyes. You remember precisely that your neighbor, who you assume is in his early twenties, has a pair of emeralds instead of rubies. But perhaps your mind is playing a trick on you because, by the time you blink, they change back to green, only this time, they look darker than the night.

His brunette hair is long enough to cascade down to his shoulders, seeming unbelievably soft and silky as it frames his strong cheekbones. His lips and cheeks are smeared with fresh blood, possibly from trying to wipe his mouth in a haste with the back of his hand. His fangs are no longer shown and although he seems breathless, you can tell he’s not breathing from how still his chest is moving (but you’re too distracted with the sight of how toned it is to care). And his abs… Let’s not talk about his abs, you mentally slap yourself, knowing that you could make a whole PowerPoint presentation to inform the world about how perfect they are. His black jeans are hanging dangerously low on his hips, unbuttoned but not yet unzipped, and it’s harder for you to not stare at his V-lines compared to the amount of blood that painted his lips.

Trying to act nonchalant, you simply ask, “Yes?”

“This isn’t what it looks like.”

“Oh, so you’re saying you're not a vampire who was drinking blood from your girlfriend’s neck a few seconds ago?”

He gapes, eyes growing wide, before, “Okay, then it is what it looks like.”

You retract your hand, giving him a formal nod. “Cool.”

“Cool?”

“Yeah, as in, no problem.” You nonchalantly shrug. “You've got a kink. I understand.”

“No, I mean—” He pinches the bridge of his nose, somewhat dizzy from your reaction. “Why are you so calm about this?”

Your forehead creases in confusion. “Would you rather have me freaking out and tell our landlord that you’ve been spilling a maiden’s blood on his carpet?”

“Well, no, but—” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Also, I’m a professional. I don’t leave stains.”

Your eyes drift down to the carpeted floor underneath him, stained by a few droplets of crimson. “Sure, you don’t.”

The man, catching your gaze, turns flustered. “That was from last night. I was in a hurry.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“I haven’t spilled anything today.”

“Congratulations, I’m impressed.” You clap your hands twice, face blank. “Well anyway, I guess I owe you an apology. I didn’t mean to sneak into your apartment without permission and disturb your…” You scratch your cheek, attempting to find the right word. “Late night snacking time—”

“Oh, God.” He rubs his palm over his face but before he can protest any further, his lover is calling him from the inside of his room.

“Eren, baby, come back to me. I haven’t cummed yet.”

You stare flatly at him, trying not to look as judgmental as possible but most likely failing terribly at it. “She sounds nice.”

He mirrors the look on your face. “Yeah, well, she tastes nice.”

“Ugh, too much info there, buddy.”

“No, I mean, her blood, not her—” You’re not sure whether vampires can blush but this one surely seems like he can. “Why did you even come here again?”

“Oh, that’s right.” You recall. “This is completely cliche and I wish I could provide a better excuse but I was making coffee and I ran out of sugar. Do you have some I can borrow? And maybe some cream?”

“Seriously?” It’s supposed to be a sarcastic response, but when he sees you nodding your head, he adds, “Do I look like I drink coffee in my spare time?”

“You spend eternity without drinking coffee?” You gasp, laying a hand on your heart. “I feel sorry for you.”

“Leave. Please.”

***

On the next evening, you find yourself crossing the hallway and knocking on his apartment door again. Knowing how patience has never been one of your virtues, you spin his doorknob after your third knock. Like last night, it’s unlocked with a click so you invite yourself in, calling his name.

“Jaeger, are you here—”

“I really need to fix that stupid lock.”

The sound of his voice startles you when he suddenly walks into view, but not as much as the sight of him with a towel hanging around his neck. His long dark hair is pushed back, dripping water to his bare chest. You know you shouldn’t look but that’s exactly what you’re doing, following those droplets as they slide down his navel, soaking the towel he has wrapped around his waist.

He notices you’re staring and he lets you take as much time as you want to marvel at his body. When you come back to your senses, bringing your eyes back to his face, he tosses you a small smirk, “So, how was it?”

“How—“ You clear your throat. “How was what?”

“The experience of running your virgin eyes over my god-like abs.”

You cough once but other than that, you succeed at keeping yourself reticent and unfazed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“So, you’re fine seeing me with human blood on my face but completely left in shock when I’m half-naked?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You sound like a robot with the vocabulary of a toddler.

“You do know us vampires can tell when you’re lying, right? We can hear your heartbeat.”

Fantastic. “Oh, yeah, that’s right.” If acting nonchalant doesn’t work, it’s time to bite back with sarcasm—that’s always been your motto. “Because you totally heard me walking into your apartment last night.”

“That—” He clears his throat. “I was… distracted.”

“You mean you were too horny to notice.”

“You—” He let out a harsh breath, perhaps a habit he invented to make him seem more human? “Are you going to visit me every day? ‘Cause I’m gonna have to file a complaint if you are.”

“Can’t I greet my neighbor?” You sweetly ask, batting your eyelashes.

He snorts loudly but walks away, throwing himself on the couch. “Seriously, why aren’t you surprised about this?”

“About you being a vampire? Or about your God awful taste in women?”

“Yeah?” He mocks back, making a face. “As if your boyfriend Armin Arlert is any better.” When he sees you tuck your chin, seemingly mortified, he snickers. “Enlighten me, Princess. How does it feel to have a lover that can only last for one minute during—”

“Okay, I’ll take my words back. Everything. Can we move on, please?” You try to yank yourself back to your normal state, even when you feel downright ashamed. “So, this vampire thing. How long have you been a vampire?”

“Long enough.”

“How old were you when you first turned?”

“Young enough.”

“How often do you drink human blood?“

“Often enough.”

You glare at him, earning a sly grin in return. “You’re not taking me seriously, are you?”

He sends you the best solemn expression he can manage, even when his lips are itching to form a smirk. “Serious enough.”

“Right, okay, I’m leaving. Have fun being an asshole for eternity.”

But the second you pivot in your heels, Eren is already on the other side of the room. His superhuman speed startles you, almost knocking you off your balance. Closing the front door, Eren leans his back against it. “Now, now,” he croons, tilting his head, “You come in as you please, uninvited. You don’t think I’ll let you go just like that, do you?”

You raise an eyebrow in question. “What do you want?”

“I think it’s something that we both want.” He steps closer, his husky voice turning smooth and alluring. “You know what I’m talking about, right?”

You gulp, suddenly becoming nervous. He’s an arms reach away, and then closer, and closer until you can feel his cold fingers tracing against your cheekbone. He lifts your face, locking his striking green eyes with yours and you swear, you see them glow.

“I’m—” You can feel your breathing stutter. “I’m not giving you my blood.”

“But it’s not blood that I want from you.” His eyes are hooded, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “I’ve been thinking about this lately, so much that I could barely think about anything else.”

Your heart is a ticking bomb inside your chest. “A-about what?”

He pulls back his lips, showcasing a pair of white fangs that petrifies you at once. He dives his head, the tip of his canines grazing against the supple skin of your neck before he shifts closer to your ear and he whispers.

“About our rent. Do you want to move in together so we can split the rental fee?”

***

It’s both ridiculous and dumb, his offer to move in together for cheaper rent, so it’s even more ridiculous and dumb when you agree to it. Several reasons make sense, actually—at least, to you anyway: 1) your neighbor may be a vampire but he’s super hot and although that doesn’t make everything okay, it does make his offer sound incredibly tempting, 2) your landlord is going to raise the rent in the following two months, 3) your part-time job’s salary can only cover so much of your living cost and you have no savings whatsoever, 4) if you can ignore the fact that he brings random girls at night for midnight snacks, he becomes much, much more attractive.

Of course, there are risks to think about as well. Sharing a place with another person can be a hassle, so you can only imagine how problematic it would be to share your home with a vampire. What if he loses control? What if he gets too thirsty and starts drinking from you instead?

You swallow hard. The thought of it is actually kind of… sexy.

Armin. You mentally slap yourself in the head. You have a boyfriend, you idiot. Stop having a crush on your damn neighbor.

But it's not like there is anything serious going on with Armin, is it? You guys were just lab partners in high school, went on a couple of dates, had a terribly awkward first kiss, had a heavy make-out session with him ejaculating under one minute when you dry-humped him on the couch of your living room and that’s it. You like him, he likes you, but yeah, nothing serious.

“My apartment or yours?” You ask Eren after a week has passed by, the second he opens his door for you. “Your apartment is bigger, but mine is cleaner.”

“Whatever you want, Princess,” he smirks, leaning against the doorframe as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I don’t mind as long as we can split the fee.”

“Yeah, why is that? You’re running out of money?”

His smirk instantly falters. It takes him a few seconds before he answers in chagrin, "Yeah."

"You've been alive for what, centuries? And you're still broke?"

Your judging tone makes him tighten his jaws. “Well, it’s not exactly easy for vampires to get a job these days.”

“You literally have superhuman skills.”

“Well, you guys have technology!” He throws his hands in the air, absolutely disgusted with the word by the sight of it. “And the Internet! Sure, I can run pretty fast, I have super hearing and super strength—hell, I can see in the dark too but these fucking technologies can do literally everything I’m capable of—and everything I’m not capable of—with only a few clicks! Do you think that’s fair? For me, an eight hundred-year-old vampire, to be pushed aside like this by a goddamn remote? And what is that thing you guys do on your phones where you dance to random songs and do things like taking off your shirt— ”

“You mean TikTok?”

“YES!” He exclaims dramatically with his head thrown back. “I fucking hate that thing! Back in my days, we needed to use flattery and gold and gifts to win a lady’s heart—not me, though, have you seen this face?” His cocky smirk returns for a few seconds to make a point before he starts raging again. “But look at them now! They just took off their clothes and they got hundreds of girls saying, Mmm, Daddy, spit in my mouth and call me a whore—how is that fair?! I also want to spit in a girl’s mouth and call her a whore without having her file a restraining order against me!”

Never in your life would you have thought that you’d see a vampire complaining about TikTok’s thirst traps with his cheeks puffing out in anger, but here you are. “Do you need a hug?”

He’s still pouting but he weakly shrugs. “Yeah, okay.”

“There, there.” You give him a pat on his back as he leans down so you can reach his height. “I’ll teach you how to make a thirst trap video someday, how about that?”

He nods like a child. “Promise?”

“Promise.” You pull away, squeezing his shoulders. “Don’t worry, you’ll get through this. So, about moving in together. Shall we talk about house rules and stuff?”

“Sure, but before that,” he sweetly smiles, opening his door wider for you. “Come in. I won’t bite.”

It’s something about him using that poor choice of words with that teasing smirk on his face that makes your stomach feel uneasy but you nod and let yourself in. As he closes the door, he adds, “Unless that's what you’re into.”

“Getting my blood drunk by a vampire?” You scoff, trying to steady your racing heart though he can probably tell already. “Why would it be something I’m into?”

“Well, my ladies surely enjoyed it,” he chuckles and you secretly think to yourself, yeah because you’re fucking hot, that’s why, but you keep yourself ignorant on the outside. “But if you’re ever curious,” he coos, eyes gleaming as he snatches a hair tie from his wrist, pushes his bangs back with one hand, and ties his hair up messily in a bun. “I’m down anytime you want.”

You shudder, but from disgust or excitement, you’re not sure. “Thanks, but no thanks. So, house rules?”

***

It turns out to be shockingly easy to share an apartment with an undead creature of the night. Your source of information regarding vampires is from the collection of your young adult supernatural novels, ranging from something serious like Interview with The Vampire to something mediocre like The Vampire Diaries, and something absolutely ridiculous and downright outrageous like Twilight. So it’s not really surprising when your first assumption of vampires are dead people who look unusually pale but strikingly attractive, have constant frowns on their faces as they brood over literally everything that’s happening as if they’re constipated all the time (they’re not since vampires don’t have that bodily function anymore) and kill people in their spare time by sucking their blood dry.

But Eren isn’t like that at all. At one point, you have to remind yourself that he’s a vampire who's lived for 845 years and not a brat going through puberty.

Because Eren isn’t pale, his skin is tan as if he was kissed by the sun when he has been hiding from it his whole life. It’s smooth, unscarred, and almost golden under the fluorescent light of your apartment.

He’s not heartless either. He cried (he wouldn’t admit it but he did) when he watched Hachiko, even when the dog owner was still alive and well. He kept shouting to the screen, “Bad shit is going to happen. Bad shit is going to happen to the dog—look how cute that dog is—look just how fucking cute he is—he doesn’t deserve any pain—if this dog dies by the end of the movie, I will combust!" By the end of the movie when the dog died (oops spoiler alert), Eren was bawling his eyes out, coughing and choking and everything. At one point, he even said, “Fuck, I feel like I’m about to throw up my intestines.”

“Chill, dude. It's just a movie.”

“THEY SAID IT WAS BASED ON A TRUE STORY, YOU COLD-BLOODED WITCH!”

So the thought of him killing someone by sucking their blood dry? Seems very unlikely.

And he’s not broody or angry all the time. Yes, Eren has quite a temper, but he’s extremely playful and annoyingly mischievous. He keeps his stock of blood in empty bottles of red wine and places them inside the fridge with a handwritten note that says: “It’s really just wine, Princess. I bought some as a housewarming gift. Come take a sip.” You did, once, out of curiosity, and from that day on you promised yourself that you would never trust his words ever again for as long as you live.

Being a monster, he should’ve been the cause of people’s fear, but in reality, Eren gets startled easily by a lot of things—even the things that shouldn’t scare a baby. You will never forget the day when a loud crash came thundering from his room, two seconds before he came barging into yours, screaming, “THERE’S A COCKROACH FLYING IN MY ROOM!”

“And what did you do?”

“I THREW THE TV AT IT BUT THAT FUCKING THING STILL LIVES!”

“What?! But that’s our TV!”

“IT WAS FLYING TO MY FACE AND I PANICKED—WHAT THE FUCK WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?!”

Even a butterfly that sneaks in from the window makes him jump on his feet. It was cute the first two times it happened, but seeing how he keeps on throwing random things—your phone, included—to keep the bugs away, you probably should start adding another house rule.

Speaking about rules, they’re pretty basic. It’s settled that you’ll both do your cleaning separately. No borrowing things without permission, no spending too much time in the bathroom because although he doesn’t need to go to the toilet, Eren enjoys drawing himself a warm bubble bath for hours. He'd do the most cliche things too, like putting Michael Bublé’s songs on speaker, taking a sip of his ‘red wine’ and calling it the perfect “Bublé Bath.” Now, you might think he would look fancy when he does it. His beautiful long hair grazing his shoulders; the colorful bubbles (yes, he’s using rainbow bath bombs) doing a poor, poor job at hiding his God-like body; his tongue running across his lower lip to wipe the blood before it dribbles down his chin, maybe even a sight of his fangs peeking out behind his devilish smirk. H-O-T. But it turns out that’s not the case.

Imagine walking into the bathroom to find a vampire chilling inside your tub, his legs draping on the edge, his fist curling in the air as if he was holding an invisible microphone in his hand. He'd have his eyes closed as he belted out his high notes, passionately singing, "Let me go homeeeeeeee" as if he was auditioning for a lead role in Mamma Mia. This is what you have to deal with every Sunday morning.

And you’re fine with him bringing girls over to your place as long as he does his midnight snacking in his own room. You were against it at first, but then you figure that you’re going to have Armin in your room from time to time too (your date night is cheaper this way) so you really don’t have the right to forbid him.

But man, if only you could take your words back.

Because when Eren said his ladies surely enjoyed it when he drank from them, you didn’t think that they would enjoy it this much. And you didn’t think that drinking blood from a human equals having sex with them all night long.

The sound of “Aah, yes, fuck me just like that,” and “Bite me again, Eren, please, I want you to bite me just as hard as you fuck me,” can be heard coming endlessly from his bedroom whenever he brings a girl over—sometimes even two at the same time. You have to plug your AirPods into your ears to tone down your suffering, blasting the volume to the max until you can literally feel your ears turn deaf. Even when you’ve pulled your pillow over your head, you can still hear them. Your apartment has excellent sound-proofed walls so your neighbors don’t really hear the loud screeches they’re making, but for you who sleeps in your bed just across the living room? A living hell.

Fortunately, it doesn’t happen every day. It doesn’t happen every week, even, since he always keeps some stocks of blood in the fridge.

“Did you take this blood from those girls?” You grimaced one night, as you opened your refrigerator to slide in your leftover and noticed three huge bottles of red wine filled up to the brim.

He laughed, waving a hand. “Of course not, stupid. How could I even do that in the first place? I bought some blood bags from the hospital, obviously.” He was sitting on the couch before but when he delivered his next line, he suddenly stood behind you, lips hovering dangerously close to your ear. “And just in case you’re wondering,” you could feel his smirk grazing your earlobe. “I only drink directly when I want to have sex.”

The heat was spreading almost immediately to your cheeks so you hid it by throwing a punch to his stomach, which he easily dodged. “Still,” you complained, “There’s blood in my fridge.”

“Hey, I never complain when you keep your celery juice in there.” He scrunched his nose in disgust. “I don’t eat or drink human foods, but who the fuck drinks celery juice?”

***

Eren is also quite passionate and it shows whenever he talks about something that he likes or intrigues him. It’s nice to have someone to fill the silence, moving from one random topic to another, never letting an awkward pause stretch out for too long. But he can also be exceptionally annoying when you have some paperwork to do and he’s bothering you because he’s bored out of his mind. He’ll start pestering you with questions—unimportant questions—like, “If you only have one eye, are you blinking or winking?” Or “Why is it that when you are sleeping it’s called drool but when you are awake it’s called spit?” And the stupidest of them all, “Why did Superman wear his briefs on the outside of his tights?”

And you’ll eventually start to lose it, throw a pillow to his face and yell, “GET OUT OF MY ROOM!”

But by the end of the day, it’s really fun to have him around. Not just because you can secretly enjoy the sight of him coming out of your shared bathroom with only a towel hanging low around his hips, but also because he’s a vampire and you can spend your time doing actual research about it.

“So,” you began one day after the sun had sunk below the horizon and he crawled out of his room with the biggest bird’s nest on his head. You had a romance novel on your lap, your fingers running through the pages. “Are you like an actual vampire or are you the romanticized, somewhat gay vampire they usually depict in books?”

“Well, I’ve been with a few men before but I still prefer women better.” He took a seat beside you on the couch, laying his feet on the coffee table. You kind of just stared at him, not exactly judging his words, just… bewildered. Noticing the look on your face, he added, “When you’ve lived for a century, you gotta learn how to keep things interesting, even if that means having a dick in your mouth.”

“That’s…” You swallowed. “Not exactly something I want to imagine.”

"You've never had a dick in your mouth? That's sad."

"I meant, imagining you."

"Oh." His devilish smirk returned. “You should, though. Try picturing me with your boyfriend Armin for a sec. Don’t we look cute together?” You had to look away when he wiggled his eyebrows at you. You just had to. “Actually, I don’t care what their biological sex, gender, or gender identity is,” Eren shrugged. “As long as they’re pretty and not hairy, I’ll sleep with them.”

“You’re okay with all genders but you can’t handle pubic hair?”

“No, I meant, hairy. Like a werewolf.”

“You’ve slept with a werewolf?!” You gaped. “I didn’t know they even existed!”

“Yep, not doing that again.” He shuddered at the memory. “I had fur in my butthole because of that.”

“You know there are things you can share, and there are things you should bring to your grave. That last one is the latter.”

“Sorry, can’t do that. You see, I don’t have a grave.”

He didn’t have one, true, but you were so tempted in making one for him right then. “So, these vampire books you said you read,” Eren went back to the previous topic after cackling for a whole ten seconds at the aggravated look on your face. “How do they depict us exactly?”

“You’ve never read one?”

“Have you ever read any books about humans written by vampires?”

“Fair point. Well, it said that vampires couldn’t see themselves in the mirror.”

“Myth,” he replied, leaning his head against the couch. “I can see myself in the mirror and I like seeing myself just as much as you do whenever I come out of the bathroom.”

You almost choked on the cinnamon cookie you just ate. “Excuse me?!” You coughed, eyes starting to get a little teary. “Who said I like looking at you?”

“You don’t?” The way his eyes twinkled made you a little bit weak. A puckish grin grew apparent on his face. “You sure about that?”

You cleared your throat, flipping another page of your book. “Next question,” you continued, ignoring the soft laugh he emitted. “Do garlic, holy water, and silver scare you?”

“They don’t scare me,” he clicked his tongue, vexed by the way you composed your words. “I just don’t like them.”

“Right, so that’s a yes. Do you have to be invited in to be able to enter someone’s home?”

He ground his jaw, bitterly muttering, “Yes.”

“Can you read someone’s thoughts?”

“No, but I can tell how they’re feeling through their heartbeat.” His eyes were boring into yours, lips curving upward. “Like you, for example. I can tell that whenever I’m around you, your heartbeat runs just a little bit faster.”

You glanced away, rubbing your nose. “No, it doesn’t.”

“Ah,” he showcased his perfect marbled teeth as he grinned knowingly. “Just like that. Your heartbeat is increasing again. Are you lying to me, Princess?”

“You’re so annoying, you know that?”

“It’s part of my charm.”

“Speaking of that,” you immediately said, knowing it was the perfect chance to avert his attention to another topic. “Can you charm someone?”

“With these looks?” He gestured to his entire body. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”

“I’m being serious.”

“So am I.” But when you started scowling at him, he added, “But if you’re talking about mind compulsion, yes, I am able to do that. I can erase and alter people’s memories, even controlling them only by making eye contact.”

“That sounds pretty convenient.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t like doing it.” The sudden change in his attitude left you frowning. He seemed pensive as he fixed his gaze on the ceiling. “I’ve done that many times in the past and I didn’t—” He released a sharp breath, as if talking about it reminded him of something that he loathed about himself. “I hated it.”

You tilted your head to the side, curiosity gnawing at your chest. “What… did you do exactly? If you don’t mind answering.”

His jaw tightened, seemingly conflicted for a couple of seconds before he forced himself to smile. “I do mind, actually.”

“Oh, umm… Sorry.” Eren, like everybody else, had secrets he wished he could keep to himself. And that was fine, you should respect his privacy. But seeing how he had no problems sharing everything else with you made you wonder even more, even slightly worried. Did he trick people to give him their blood? You mused. No, if he only did that, he wouldn’t look this distraught. A hint of dread crawled up your skin. What if he did… something worse? What if he—

“What are you brooding about?” He lightly nudged you with his elbow, tittering. “Relax, I’m not gonna use compulsion on you. Hypnotizing someone to get what I want just doesn’t sit right with me. I want to feel a connection, you know?”

You could tell how much he wanted you both to act casual, pretending like he didn’t say anything weird. Deciding to honor his privacy, you dismissed the matter for now and went back to your regular teasing. “So doing one night stands with vampire groupies is the perfect way to earn that connection, I suppose?”

He had his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he grew both irked and amused at your comeback. “You really know how to attack someone’s pride, huh?”

“Part of my charm,” you mimicked him with a nod. “Okay, next question. Can you die with a wooden stake piercing your heart?”

He rolled his eyes. “Everybody dies with a stake in—what is this, an interrogation?”

“Do churches—”

“Okay, Princess.” He closed your book, his smile stretching widely but it wasn’t enough to reach his eyes. “I think that’s enough. My turn now.”

You furrowed your eyebrows, not entirely pleased with the way he just suddenly changed the direction of your conversation. “What do you want to know?” You indulged him anyway.

He tilted his head, propping his elbow on his thigh, fingers tapping against his cheek as he rested his chin on his palm. Gazing at you intensely, he asked, “Are you a virgin?”

It didn’t take even a split second for your cheeks to turn warm. “T-that’s—What kind of question is that—”

“Ah, so you are.” His smile grew a bit larger, but you weren’t sure whether he was entertained, aroused, or just excited to mock you about it. “Is that why you’ve been staring at me a lot lately? Because you’re curious?”

“For the last time,” you emphasized, though your heart was hammering against your rib cages. “I wasn’t looking at you. I never—”

“You’re adorable when you lie,” he snickered, a lopsided grin painting his face. “Your heartbeat sounds like you just did a marathon. Are you okay?”

You threw your book at him, successfully wiping the smirk on his goddamn perfect face before you raced back to your room.

“Ah, she’s really cute.” Was the last thing you heard him say before you slammed your bedroom door behind you.

***

For a vampire, Eren’s presence is as blinding as the sun, always managing to lift your mood whenever you’re too stressed out about your college assignments or drained from your part-time job. Of course, he’s also the cause of your stress more often than not, but whenever you get into a fight with him—usually because he’s so disorganized and you’re too obsessive to keep everything in order—it doesn’t last long and it always ends up with him making you the best dinner you’ve ever had to compensate for his actions, even when he’s not the one at fault.

Eren doesn’t consume human food but he makes the best cuisine you’ve ever tasted in your life. And the sight of him wearing your apron with his bangs tied to the side using your hairclip is really, really something to behold—which is weird because that obviously doesn’t scream sexy in any way, or masculine even, but it never fails to make your stomach somersault in delight.

“Dinner is served, Milady,” he says, laying down a plate of Spaghetti Aglio e Olio in front of you, making you gawk at the sight. “And it’s special because it contains a lot of garlic—seriously, like a lot. I had to put some gloves on and everything.”

“You’re an angel.” You nearly cry and it’s not an exaggeration. “I can’t believe you did all of this for me.”

“Well, I haven’t really thanked you for covering my rent last month so…”

“It’s fine, you can pay me back later.” You take a hold of your fork, moistening your lips in anticipation, and wasting not a second longer before you dig in. When the cheese melts inside your mouth, you almost moan in joy. “Oh my God, this is so good. I love you.”

He chuckles, suddenly standing behind you, leaning forward so he’s right next to your ear. “Yeah? How much?”

You raise your silver spoon in the air and he immediately leaps to the other side of the kitchen, startled and terrified out of his mind. “Hey, that’s not cool!” He barks. “I thought we'd talked about this!”

Rolling your eyes at him, you take another spoonful of the dish. “Man, you should really make a job out of this,” you comment. He only cooks whenever he feels sorry for you for going through a hard day—whether it was because of him or something else—but if that’s what it takes to have this magnificent cuisine enter your mouth, you don’t mind suffering more often.

“I really should, huh?” He takes a seat on the kitchen counter, his legs dangling a few inches in the air. He ties his hair up in a bun like he always does, with a few strands of his baby hair falling to his temple. “I’m really running low on money.”

“I thought vampires were supposed to be rich and, like, noble.”

“You’re confusing us with Aristocrats.” He grieves. “I used to be filthy rich, actually.”

“And now, you’re like this. What happened? Did you get robbed?” You chuckle to yourself but he’s not laughing. He’s doing that thing again where he turns pensive, his lips squeezed tight as if he was trying to keep his thoughts away from morphing into words. “Sorry, that wasn’t funny.”

“It was kinda funny.” His little smile returns, albeit a bit forced and awkward. “Do you think I can get a night shift at a restaurant downtown?”

“Oh, I actually know a place. I’ll take you there tomorrow.”

“Like on a date?”

You almost drop your fork. “Why do you have to make everything weird?”

His cheeky grin is contagious but you’ve become a master of handling your expression. “I just like seeing you turn all flustered,” he confesses. “Have I told you how cute you are?”

“Today? Not yet,” you mutter as you munch on your food. “Yesterday? Approximately two hundred and thirty-five times.”

“Then I’ll try to break another record today.” He throws you a wink.

“Shut up and let me eat in peace, please.”

***

“Eren.”

“Yes, baby?”

“Stop it.”

“Stop what?”

“Stop posting a goddamn selfie every ten minutes!” You almost throw your phone to his face but since it’ll be a waste, you decide to throw your shoe instead. “I didn’t teach you how to use Instagram for this!”

Eren easily dodges every single thing you’re flinging at him. “Didn’t you tell me to promote my cooking skill? That’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“How does this—” You show your phone’s screen to him, almost smacking him in the face with how fast and hard you’re doing it. You slide your thumb over his Instagram feeds, showing more than fifty different pictures of his close-up face (and he just made that account two days ago, Jesus Christ). “—promote your cooking skill?!”

“But, look,” he guides you, clasping his hand around yours so you’re both holding your phone. He taps from one picture to another. “This is me holding a spatula. This is me boiling water and this is me pouring barbecue sauce—”

“Oh my God.” You almost yank every hair out of your head—or out of his head. “I follow more than four hundred people and all I can see on my timeline is your damn selfies!”

“Correction, my damn cute selfies.” He pecks your cheek. “You’re welcome, Princess.”

But all jokes aside, it actually works. His adorable (and hot) selfies—no matter how bad you hate to admit it—are attracting more followers each day that by the time a week has passed by, he has gained more followers than you have (and you’ve had your account for three years, shame on you).

And in the following two months, he gets his first endorsement deal.

“I can’t believe this,” you say, gaping as you stare over his shoulder to take a glimpse at his phone’s screen, shamelessly reading his direct messages. He’s getting an offer to become a brand ambassador for this little bakery that has a cover photo of a lady with chubby cheeks baking cupcakes. “I can’t believe there are people crazy enough to hire you.”

“Hey, privacy!” He immediately stands up from the couch, covering his screen with his palm. “I could’ve been sending nudes!”

“You’re sending nudes?”

“Well, not my nudes.” He rolls his eyes.

“How is that any better?!”

“Look, I’m busy. I got a gig.” He grins proudly. “I’m on my way to becoming a celebrity, babe. Do you want my autograph now before it’s too late? I could sign your bra if you want. I mean, I’m totally down if you want me to sign your tits, but if you ever think that could be awkward—”

You smack his head with a spatula.

***

“What are you doing?”

You question the vampire the second you push open your bathroom door, catching him in the middle of lifting his shirt in a slow, sensuous manner as he casts a sexy smirk at his camera. He sighs at your presence, yanking his white wifebeater back down before he picks up his phone. “I’m making a thirst trap,” he explains, not even sparing you a glance. “People have been begging me to join TikTok so I made one last week and now I’m trying to reach a thousand followers by Sunday. I only need about a hundred more.”

“By making thirst trap videos?” It’s more like a statement than a question. The disgust in your voice is apparent but he plays ignorant.

"Obviously,” Eren says, tapping his thumb against his screen. Snickering, he adds, “They call me Daddy now.”

“God.”

“I won’t call myself a God, but,” he chuckles, hurling a flirtatious wink. “If that's how you think of me, sure. Also, what do you know about OnlyFans? They want me to make one too.”

“Kill me. Just kill me now and end my suffering. Please.”

“Stop being so dramatic.” He snorts. “Hey, recommend me a song for my thirst trap. I want one that makes me look like I’m the filthiest whore in town.”

“You already look like the filthiest whore in town.”

“Aaw.” He’s flattered. He’s actually flattered. “Thanks, babe. You too.” He puckers his lips, making a kissy face. “Now, enough with the praise. Let’s go back to this. I’m thinking about using Britney’s Gimme More but—”

“Oh my God, Ren, a cockroach!” You point a finger at the marbled floor, shouting as dramatically as possible.

“FUCK—WHERE?!” The second he’s distracted—yelping like a little girl—you jump on your feet, snatching away his phone. “Hey, what are you—”

Dashing toward the front door, you shout back, “I’M BURNING DOWN YOUR PHONE!”

“WHAT—GET BACK HERE!”

***

It’s your first date night after passing nearly half a year without contacting Armin due to him going overseas for his student exchange program, and now that he’s back, you’re nervous for various reasons.

First, you haven’t told Armin you’ve been sharing a place with a guy.

Second, you certainly haven’t told him that this guy is a vampire.

Third, you absolutely in any way cannot tell him that you’ve been secretly crushing on this guy while your boyfriend was away studying.

And last but not least, you know that if anything happens tonight, whether it ends up with you fighting with Armin or finally losing your virginity to him, Eren can hear every single thing.

So you barge into his room, hand laying on the front of his bedroom door as you push it open. “Eren.”

Like always, he’s laying idly on his bed, head almost dangling on the edge of it with his smartphone in his hands. “Yes, baby?”

You sigh, rubbing your temple. “How many times should I tell you? Don’t call me that.”

“You’re not my baby anymore?” He fakes a loud gasp. “I am shocked.”

“Armin is coming over tonight.”

His movements stop abruptly. “I didn’t realize you were still with him.”

“Of course, I am. Why wouldn’t I be? He’s been nothing but sweet to me.”

His eyes lose the mischievous spark he usually displays in them. “And yet, you keep drooling over my body. Can’t say I’m not hurt.”

“I never—” You exhale loudly, throwing your head back. “I’m not going to have this conversation again. He’s coming over tonight to have dinner—”

“But you’re a shitty cook.”

“By dinner, I mean take-outs,” you admit your defeat. “Anyway, I came here to ask you a favor.”

“Princess,” he calls, turning over to his stomach so he can face you without having to see you upside down. “I know I said I wanted to make things interesting, but having a threesome with you and Armin? So suddenly like this? Don’t you think it’s gonna be a little awkward between us? I barely know the dude. You should at least tell me what kind of person he is, whether he likes action movies or romantic ones, whether he blames someone else when he farts—I need to know him before I have his dick in my mouth.”

Talking to him gives you headaches, you should’ve really come prepared. “Are you done?”

“Do you still want me to continue? Okay, well—”

“Shut up, please for the love of God, shut up.” You know you should take your leave before he starts yapping again. “Look, that super hearing thing you have? Can you turn it off just for one night?”

“Sure thing. Click,” he says, snapping his fingers near his ear. “Done. Now I’m deaf.”

You flatly stare at him. “I’m serious.”

“Whaaaaat? I can’t heaaaaar youuuu.”

“Eren!”

He groans loudly, rolling his eyes. “Well, it’s not like my ears have on-and-off buttons I can just switch, okay? What do you want from me?”

He’s right, there’s nothing you can do. “Then, can you leave the apartment for the night?”

He opens his mouth wide, hand going to his chest. “You’re kicking me out of my own apartment? This is heresy!”

“Eren, please!” Great, now you’re stomping your feet like a child. “I just really need some privacy for tonight.”

“Oh, you’re gonna get laid, aren’t you?” He raves mockingly, but his eyes are somewhat cold. “Seriously? With that guy? I think you could do so much better, Princess.”

Vexed, you jeer back, “Yeah? And who do you have in mind? You?”

You’re not sure whether it’s your words or the way you say them that makes his blood boil but his eyes suddenly turn darker, almost glowering at you. It only happens for a second or two before he switches back to his happy-go-lucky self, so you’re not sure if you even see that clearly.

“Well, it’s not my business, is it?” He casually chirps, smiling at you again although something still feels off. “Don’t worry, I won’t eavesdrop on you two. I have a lot of kinks but voyeurism isn’t one of those. You won’t even notice I’m here.”

“You…” Something feels really off with the way he’s acting. It’s like he’s visibly upset but trying to act nonchalant about it at the same time. “You’re sure?”

“You have my words.”

“Okay then.” Whatever it is, you figure you can deal with that later as you’re running out of time for your date. “Well, I’m gonna go take a shower.”

As you shut the door behind you, turmoil starts to fill your chest.

***

Your date with Armin is going well. It’s going so well, even, that you end up lying on your bed, perfectly naked, lips swollen from his kisses. He's hovering above you, both breathless and speechless at the sight of your curves, his sapphire eyes shifting from one spot of your skin to another.

And unfortunately for you, he is also clueless.

Armin has a packet of condoms in his hand, and no matter how embarrassing it is for you, you already have your legs spread on the bed, waiting for him to… well, do whatever it is he’s supposed to do. You always thought that it was okay for you to be clueless about sex because guys usually take the lead, right?

Wrong.

“Okay, wait, let me just—” Armin’s fingers are trembling due to anxiety. His poor, innocent mind cannot handle being so painfully turned on and awkwardly embarrassed at the same time. Your boyfriend has always been awkward with literally everything, which kind of makes him adorable but it does not come as cute—not in the slightest—when he’s doing the exact opposite of what he's supposed to do. Somewhere deep in his mind, he probably knows that he’s supposed to tear apart the package sexily with his teeth, put the condom on within seconds, and thrust into you as painlessly as possible. But in reality, what’s currently happening is he's trying to catch the condom that flew out in the air after he managed to tear the packet apart with his shaky fingers. He then progresses to try putting on the condom for approximately fifteen minutes while flinching several times when he accidentally slaps the elastic band against his cock.

The whole thing is a fucking disaster (no pun intended) and all the passion, desire, and arousal that you once felt swirling in your stomach vanish in an instant. And when you thought things couldn’t get any worse, it does, because being a virgin himself, Armin doesn’t really know where to, for the lack of better words, put it in.

“Armin?”

“Y-yeah?”

“That’s my asshole.”

So with a reassuring (fake) smile, you lay a hand on his chest and gently push him backward, trying not to wince in shame when you suggest, “Maybe we should stop and try again some other time?”

You two dress back into your clothes in silence and after you escort him to your front door, Armin tries to kiss you at the same time you’re leaning in for a friendly hug so it ends up with him knocking his teeth against your forehead.

When he’s gone, you close the front door with a sigh, pressing your spine against the wooden surface as you soothe the pain on your temple away with your fingertips. It doesn’t take long before Eren peeks his head from behind his door. Noticing you’re alone, he steps into the living room, leaning against the wall just a couple of meters away from where you’re standing.

“So,” he begins, acting casual with his hands neatly tucked inside the pocket of his jeans. “How was the date with—” He suddenly bursts out laughing, one hand holding his stomach as he nearly tumbles down to the floor, cackling like a mad man. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have eavesdropped but holy fuck, did he really put it in the wrong hole? Oh God, this shit is just beyond me, man.”

With your shoulders slumped forward, you walk back into your room, trying to gather back the pieces of dignity you have left.

***

“You know what I should do?” Eren asks with a game controller in his hand. To stop him from making fun of you and your terrible incident with your boyfriend, you’ve borrowed a PlayStation from your cousin. Even though he claimed that he despised technology, Eren is actually brilliant when he puts his mind to it. It doesn’t take more than two hours for him to master the game, already adapting to every button of the controller, even manages to land a few high scores in the last ten minutes. He used to prefer to live in the old school way, but that soon changed after your influence.

“Pray to God for forgiveness so He won’t send you to hell?” You offer, as you take a seat next to him on the carpeted floor, crossing your legs with your eyes staring idly at the screen.

“Cute, but no.” He clicks some buttons aggressively, trying to reach yet another high score. “I should become a historian. I mean, I’ve seen things happen with my own eyes—the first world war, the second world war, the worst of all: the birth of Donald Trump. Hell, I was even besties with Jesus at one point.” He sneaks a glance, but seeing no reaction coming from you, he juts out his lower lip in disappointment. “It’s cruel that you don’t indulge me with my jokes these days.”

“Oh, you want me to respond? I thought you just liked hearing yourself talk.”

“Heeeeeey,” he hisses, leering at you. “I know you’re hurt that your boyfriend tried to butt-fuck you but don’t throw this all on me.”

Oh my God. “Right, then let’s try this.” You have no choice but to please him this way before he destroys whatever is left of your pride. You do a quick search on your phone, throwing a random question from what you found in the article. “Who led our country in 1950?”

“Easy. The guy with the bald head. No, wait, is it the skinny one with the huge mole on his neck?”

“Name, genius. I need a name.” You exhale in exasperation.

“Oh, I got it! The one with the annoying high-pitched voice!”

“How the hell am I supposed to know?”

“Well, how the hell am I supposed to remember shits that happened seventy years ago?”

You give him a look, eyes staring at him lifelessly. “You’re right, you should totally apply for the job. You’ll nail it.”

***

“I can’t believe this.”

“Saying that multiple times won’t really change anything, Princess.”

“I can’t believe this,” you repeat, this time while standing up from the couch, slamming your fashion magazine down to the table. “I can’t believe our air conditioner broke when it’s nearly forty degrees outside! Aren’t you hot?!”

“Am I hot—” He snorts, flipping a page of his novel. Yes, it is actually quite bizarre that he spends his spare time reading. “What kind of question is that? Of course, I’m hot. Haven’t you seen the number of views my thirst trap videos got in one night?”

“Ugh, God!” You plop back into your seat, throwing your head back in vexation. “What are you even reading?”

“That vampire book you talked about the other day.”

“Which one?”

“The one that’s interesting.”

“Oh, Interview with The Vampire?”

“No.” The way he rolls his eyes as if he’s disgusted with your guess is beyond you. “Twilight.”

“Oh my God, stay away from me.”

“What—this is actually good!”

“These vampires sparkle under the sun—aren’t you, at the very least, offended? Because I’m human and I’m livid.”

“That’s what makes it interesting, actually,” he retorts, eyes moving back and forth as he reads through a passage. “They’re so different from us in real life, so it’s like seeing through a new perspective. I’m Team Jacob, by the way. I know I said I wouldn’t bang another werewolf but Jacob can, like, get it.”

“Good Lord.” You palm the side of your face. “You’re more than eight hundred years old but you have the taste of a teenage girl going through puberty. I’m ashamed of knowing you.”

“You’re just cranky because of the weather.”

“I’m literally dying.” You can feel sweat drenching your back, all the way to your shirt and you just took a shower twenty minutes ago. “You’re lucky you’re immune to temperature changes.”

“Then wanna sit on my lap?”

Your ears must be playing tricks on you. “Excuse me?”

Eren sighs, closes his book, and throws it away to the side. Turning to you, he repeats slowly, dragging out every syllable. “Do. you. want. to. sit. on. my. lap?”

You send him a blank stare, annoyed. “I heard you, asshole. I’m not an idiot. I’m just shocked at your offer. You’re really going all out in harassing me these days, huh?”

“What—” He throws his hands in the air, exasperated. “I’m a vampire, remember? I have cold skin. Here,” he takes one of your hands, sliding it down his shirt as if it’s nothing, and presses it against his stomach. “Can you feel it?”

All the blood rushes to your face, making you feel lightheaded but also conscious of how his skin feels underneath your palm. It is cold, though not as cold as he’d made a big deal out of it. It’s like the room temperature during the spring, at most. But compared to how sizzling it is right now, his skin is nice to the touch, relaxing even.

But all that thought just goes straight out of the window when he shifts on his seat and you can feel his abs muscles contracting.

“Whoa,” he stops, looking at you. “Are you okay? Your heartbeat is insane.”

You smack him on the head and try to suffocate him with your cushion. It doesn’t work since he doesn’t breathe, but at least it can stop him from seeing how flustered you are.

But when another day passes by and your landlord is still taking his sweet time trying to find a cheap handyman to repair your AC, you decide to take on his offer. You know it’s weird for roommates to cuddle but, as you try to reason within yourself, you will be sitting on the-sexiest-man-you’ve-ever-witnessed-with-your-eyes’ lap, your back pressing against his (hopefully) bare chest, and snuggle close until your body heat is no longer screaming at you in agony. You don’t really see any problem with this. After all, you have been imagining how it would feel like to sit on his lap every time he does that manspreading thing on your couch.

So, really, what’s there to lose?

“Okay,” you begin, standing in front of him in an already awkward posture. “So, how can we do this without being weird about it?”

Eren tilts his face up, leaning his back against the couch, phone in his hand. “Do what?”

“Do…” You fiddle with the hem of your shirt. “You know, what you offered me yesterday.”

“Hmm?” He raises his eyebrow in question, but the way one side of his lips curves upward betrays his act. “I forgot. What exactly did I offer you?”

“You’re seriously going to make me say this out loud?”

“Princess, I’m clueless.” His smirk grows wider, his voice dripping with allure. “Please. Enlighten me.”

He’s toying with you, that’s for sure. And no matter how much you want to feel those arms around you, there’s no way you’re gonna let him degrade you like this. “Fine, then forget it,” you sulk, turning around on your heels with your cheeks puffed out but Eren laughs in the most innocent way when he’s clearly nothing like that in reality. Calling your name in a sing-song voice, he circles his fingers around your wrist and tugs you back until you tumble down to his lap.

“You’re never honest,” he says, his velvety voice suddenly only a whisper away. His arms are tied securely around your waist, pulling you close until you can do nothing but lay your back against his chest. “But you’re cute so I forgive you.”

You can’t form a word, too busy trying to compose yourself. You can’t hear his heartbeat—since he’s the creature of the undead, obviously—but you assume with the proximity you’re being, you would’ve definitely heard it if he had one.

You didn’t notice it before but now that you’re sitting on his lap, your palm pressed against his thigh for stability, you realize that he’s wearing black ripped jeans with holes that are oh so terribly distracting. If you dare to move your finger, you’ll be able to trace the smooth skin at the inner part of his thigh.

You gulp hard.

You can hear him snickering behind you. “Thinking something dirty?”

It feels like you almost swallowed your tongue. “What—no!” Flapping your hands in panic, you almost fall from his lap but his fast reflex won’t let you. He embraces you tighter, causing you to fall back to his chest with a small oof.

“Relax, I’m just messing with you,” he chuckles lowly, his lips grazing against your earlobe. “This is nice. We should do this more often. You fit perfectly in my arms.” He says his line sincerely with no trace of humor or teasing in it, which effectively makes you curl your toes in bashfulness.

“You’re gonna have a heart attack if you keep your heart rate going like that, Princess,” he titters.

“Yeah, well,” you try to push him away by pushing your palm against his cheek. “Unlike you, I don’t spend my time snuggling with the opposite sex, so of course I’m nervous.”

“You’re sure it’s not because of me?”

“Absolutely. In fact, I’d most likely have a bigger reaction if Armin was the one holding me instead.”

The way he suddenly goes stiff intrigues you, but you don’t dwell on it. “Is that so?” He simply retorts back, his tone suddenly turns cold and it makes you feel queasy.

“So, uhh…” Your breathing tatters when he becomes mute, only the sound of the ticking clock on the wall can be heard. “Wanna watch a movie?”

He only hums, placing his chin on top of your head. Since he’s always so talkative, it gets really tense when he’s quiet. “Did I offend you or something?” You question.

“I don’t know, did you?”

“I wouldn’t have asked if I knew.”

“Then let’s just leave it at that.” Seeing how you keep fumbling with the remote in your hand, he snatches it away and proceeds to switch the channels. “We’re watching Twilight.”

“Nooooooo, not again!”

But his arm, as he raises it high in the air, is longer than yours so you can’t steal back the remote no matter how hard you try. And as you jump up and down, shifting back and forth on his lap, Eren warns, “I don’t know if you’re doing this on purpose, but if you keep doing that, I’m gonna get a hard-on.”

You immediately stay still, hands tucked neatly on your lap, chest thundering. “You—Why—” You shake your head, flushed. “How can you say things like that?”

“Things like what?”

“Sexual things like that.” The more you reveal your thoughts, the more you turn sheepish. “Don’t you have any shame?”

“What, I can’t be honest?” He snorts. “I didn’t mean to harass you or anything. Just letting you know in advance. It’s completely a guy thing.”

“No, it’s not just that. You always flirt with me—calling me baby or princess, telling me how I look cute all the time when you don’t even mean it—“

You’re interrupted with a loud sigh accompanied by an impatient groan. “Turn around. Look at me,” he orders and his tone is irrefutable. When you turn slightly, making eye contact, Eren has his eyebrows furrowed, almost glaring at you. “I know you’re gullible, and I know you’re dense when it comes to things like this but I swear to God, if you don’t start taking a hint, I’m gonna have to push you against the wall and kiss you to prove my point.”

You’re dizzy and nauseous, your stomach is flipping like crazy and you’re conflicted between believing him or laughing at him because although he looks dead serious right now, you can’t help but wonder what if, after you give in to your feelings, he sends you that signature cheeky grin of his to reveal he’s just joking all along? You’re not even brave enough to imagine, even when the vivid image of him pushing you against the wall, his knee slipping between your legs while he brings your wrists over your head and holding them still with one hand is enough to keep you awake for hours.

So you decide to take the easy path. “Okay.”

He blinks. “Okay?”

“Okay.” You shrug, acting casual. It’s a miracle that you don’t stutter when you deliver the next line. “You told me to take a hint, that’s what I’m doing.”

He raises one of his eyebrows, confused. “Just like that? You’re not gonna say anything more? Or do anything about it?”

“Nope.”

Slowly, there’s a shift in his expression. He shakes his head in amusement, tongue protruding against the inside of his cheek. “You really are something else.”

Surprisingly enough, he leaves it at that. Though it’s somehow uncomfortable, you follow his lead and just keep your eyes glued to your TV screen as he chooses his movie.

You have no interest in watching Twilight—absolutely nothing, zilch, zip, nada!—so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when your eyelids start to become heavy in the first thirteen minutes of the show. You would’ve fallen asleep way sooner though, if you weren’t too distracted with the way he laid his hand on your thigh, sometimes unconsciously rubbing or squeezing it with his palm when he got a little bit bored with the scene, causing your breath to get hitched in your throat.

The room’s temperature is still hot even when it’s in the middle of the night, successfully making your bangs stick to your temple. But you feel relaxed as you listen to Eren quietly humming something to himself. Soft, melodious sound is resonating from his chest directly to your ear and you begin to drift away, floating into your dreamland.

***

“Hey, wake up. It’s almost morning.”

Your bleary eyes are greeted by the dim light of the room. The TV in front of you has already been switched off so the only thing that can be heard in your apartment is the buzzing sound coming from your fridge and the faint ticking clock.

“What time is it?” You rub your eyes, not aware that you’re still sitting on his lap, with your spine leaning against his chest. It’s until you feel his arms loosening around your waist that you begin to think, oh fuck, what have I done?

You immediately jump off his lap, tripping over your feet but manage to hold your balance by placing a hand on the coffee table. “Why didn’t you wake me?” You screech, face aflame. “You kept holding me in that position all night?”

“Yeah.” He stretches his arms above his head, cracking his neck. “I would've waited until you woke up by yourself, but you know, the sun is about to rise.”

You’re still pretty much flabbergasted by the whole thing. “You really should’ve woken me up.”

“Well, you seemed like you were having the best sleep you’ve ever had.” He stares at you with mischief in his eyes. “Did it feel that good being in my arms, Princess?”

You’re about to explode. “Okay, wow, look what time it is.” You try to look at your wrist and mentally slap yourself harder when you realize you’re not wearing a goddamn watch. “A-anyway, you really should go back to your room before it’s too late.”

He chuckles at your stupid antics before he stands up from the couch. Ruffling your hair once and making a mess out of your strands, he heads back to his room. As he slides open his door, he spares you a glance over his shoulder. “Hey.”

“What?”

“You kept calling my name in your sleep. What were you dreaming about?”

Whether it’s true or he’s just flirting with you to get your reaction, you don’t want to know. “Just go to your room!”

***

A few moments after the sun sinks below the horizon, Eren comes out of his room with bleary eyes and his shoulders sagging forward.

“Good morning, Princess,” you joke, your hands busy mixing coffee powder, sugar, and milk to make your own version of Dalgona coffee. Eren scratches the back of his head, his eyes are barely open as he heads to the kitchen, not even sparing you a glance. When he opens the fridge, he groans loudly, noticing that he forgot to restock his red wine. He slams the door with a loud huff, drags his body to the dining table, and sits down with his cheek pressed against the table. Seeing how you’re not paying him any attention, he groans again, louder and whinier this time.

“Okay, what?” You ask, leaning your back against the counter, a cup of coffee in your hand.

“I’m thirsty,” he grumbles, jutting out his lower lip.

“Then drink.”

“I don’t have any money left to buy even a bag of blood. Why do they have to make it so fucking expensive?” He grouses, pouting. “I mean, I can always steal one but I’m scared of being caught.”

“Scared of being caught? You, with your superhuman speed and strength?”

“Well, they have those security cameras installed all over the place! I don’t want to get arrested or worse, go viral!” You resist the temptation to roll your eyes at his nonsense. “These fucking technologies, man, I swear to God, they’ll be the death of me someday.”

“Then just go outside. Our town is filled with walking blood bags.”

He groans again, now pressing his forehead against the table. “Man, the effort I have to make just to survive. I’m so done with drinking blood from slutty girls. They’re bitter.” He sticks out his tongue in disgust at the memory.

“Yeah, why is that? Why do you only drink from them?”

“Because they’re the only ones who’ll agree in a heartbeat.” His voice is muffled as his lips are brushing against the surface. “Also the sex isn’t too bad if you can ignore how annoyingly loud they are.”

“Trust me, I’ve tried.” You grimace at the flashback. It really has been a while since he brought one of them back to his room and you were ecstatic about it, knowing you were the only girl he had been giving his attention to. “Why don’t you just compel someone to give their blood? You can erase their memories too after you’re done with them.”

“I’ve told you, I don’t like doing that. It makes me feel like a monster.”

It’s cute, you suppose, the way he tries his best to defy his nature. “Then…” You tap your fingers against the mug, somehow feeling timid. “Why don’t you try being in a relationship with someone? I’m sure they’ll be willing to give you their blood if they like you that way.”

“Yeah? With who?”

“I don’t know, like…” Your cheeks grow hot, bringing your face down to conceal your eyes with your bangs. “Maybe just someone you like.”

“Are you volunteering?”

The way he suddenly has you backed against the counter, trapping you inside his arms, and whispering seductively with his lips almost grazing your own makes you jump on your feet. Your mug slips off your fingers, crashing to pieces when it hits the marbled floor.

“Careful!” Eren holds you by the waist, stopping you just a split second away from stepping on the broken glasses. You realize your hands are fisting against the back of his shirt, embracing him for support without knowing. You pull away immediately, clearing your throat.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you,” he says, letting you go. “I mean I did, but not like this.”

You sigh. “It’s okay, just step away. I need to clean this up.” He tries to help but you won’t let him, as having him in such proximity is only going to blind your senses, unable to function properly. Even just thinking about the way his strong arm fits the curve of your waist a few seconds before already makes you lose focus that you end up cutting your finger with a shard of glass.

He catches the little surprised yelp that escapes your lips and immediately bends down to check on you. “See, this is why I told you to let me clean up instead,” he complains, carrying you to the sink and drenching your finger with running water. “Let me see.” With a hold around your wrist, you can barely do anything but let him examine your cut thoroughly. “Well, it’s not deep but it’s… still…”

Noticing how he trails off, you look up to check on his face, catching how his green eyes are now glowing a bit brighter. His lips are parted as if in awe from the way droplets of blood seep from your fingertip, trickling down to your palm.

“Eren…?”

His eyes start to change color, drifting back and forth from your face to the tear on your skin. You know where this is going but when he brings your hand closer to his lips, his tongue darting out to lick the blood off the lines of your palm, you nearly collapse to the floor.

“Eren, wait—” You hiss, cheeks reddening as you try to retract your hand but his hold is firm on your wrist. He licks his way up before he brings your fingertip inside his mouth. Eren has his eyes closed, a moan almost tumbles off his lip when the coppery taste taints his tongue. He sucks on the wound, wanting to taste more, to rip your skin apart with his teeth and—

“Eren!”

He jolts awake, his irises turning back from scarlet to viridian the second he witnesses the dread that paints your face. His fangs are drawn out but he immediately retracts them before you get a detailed look, his face flushed as he takes a step back.

“Sorry—” He looks away, rubbing his nape with shaky fingers. “I didn’t mean to—shit, I really have to go—I need to drink—” and when you blink your eyes again, he has vanished from your sight.

With your heart thundering inside your rib cages, you lean back against the kitchen counter, your legs trembling underneath your weight.

That was close. So fucking close.

There’s fear growing inside you but it’s not from the memory of him with his fangs extended like the true monster that he was. You’re not scared of him, you’re scared of yourself because you know you want him. Even when you've seen his true form, you still want him and you want him in any way possible. You want him to belong to you, to be with you, to be desperate for your touch, your blood, your presence, your everything, just as much as you are about him.

You bury your face in your palms. I am so fucked.

***

Hours turn into days and days turn into months, and before you know it, it has been a year since he moved into your apartment. The friendship that blooms between you feels nice and you want to keep it that way but it’s getting tough when he keeps on bringing random girls in skimpy dresses back to his room. You used to be furious by how loud they were being, but now you’re pretty much angry just from imagining him being with someone else. And it doesn’t even have to be sexual—just picturing him bonding with another person, even when it’s not as strong as what you two have, already aggravates you so much.

The thoughts of him keep revolving in your head no matter how hard you try to push them away. It even puts your relationship with Armin in jeopardy, as you can barely pay him any attention. It doesn’t surprise you at all when he decides to break things off, saying something cliche like, “I think we’re better off as friends,” and “It’s not you, it’s me,” which in normal circumstances will piss the hell out of you but when that happens, you simply reply with, “You’re right. Let’s be friends.” And there are no hard feelings—no feelings at all, even, which is weird considering you were only a month away from having your first anniversary with him.

Now that Armin is out of the picture, you can finally bring all of your attention back to Eren. But the more you think about it, the more you’re not sure about the whole thing. He’s a vampire, isn’t he? What future do you expect to have with him? Let’s say you date him and things go well with your relationship, and then what? He’s going to stay young with that cute, boyish look on his face and you’re gonna be all wrinkled and gross, how are you ever going to be able to stand that? What if he wants someone prettier than you? What if he gets bored?

Or maybe it’s just lust you’re feeling. You don’t love him, you’re just physically attracted to him. That’s right. Strictly physical.

And yet, as you see him dressed handsomely in a black button-down shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows—him running a hand through his thick, luscious hair as he ties it up to showcase his temple, your mind screams: fuck.

And when he smiles at you, placing a plate filled with the exact dish he knows you love down to the dining table while saying, “I went ahead and did some research about you. I was about to buy you some presents but I thought it would feel more personal if I cooked something for you so,” and stopping to gaze at you with tender eyes before he adds, “Happy birthday, Princess.” You think to yourself: Jesus fucking Christ, just marry me already.

Eren goes all the way with everything, from placing scented candles on the table, playing soft music in the background, even escorting you to your seat, pulling your chair back for you, and setting down a napkin on your lap. It’s too much for your poor brain to comprehend, and your chest is suffocating from all the feelings swirling behind it. Eren looks so beautiful—almost goddamn ethereal, even—in that shirt and those black khaki pants, sporting that sexy man bun. It almost feels unreal to have someone like him standing before you in the dim light of your apartment. He looks like he belongs in one of those romantic renaissance paintings that they display in the museum.

“You’re not hungry?” He asks when a few seconds have passed by and you haven’t munched at your food like a caveman (because that’s what you usually do).

“I’m—you—” You splutter, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves before you try again. “You look nice.”

You can already tell that he’s about to say something along the line of “But, baby, I always look nice.” So when he just softly smiles back and thanks you about it, telling you how you look just as nice when you know you look like a storm just hit you, you’re pretty much lost for words.

“You seem exhausted,” he comments, frowning in concern. “Hard day at work?”

You can’t trust yourself that you won’t start rambling nonsense again while answering his question so you decide to just reply to him with a feeble nod.

“Why are you so nervous?” He laughs, eyes turning into a beautiful pair of crescents. “Your heartbeat is going through the roof again.”

You loathe yourself for being so transparent. “I’m nervous because you’re suddenly being so nice to me. I can’t help but think you have a hidden agenda or something.” That’s a lie. A complete lie.

And you’re sure he knows it too. “And what if I do?” He challenges, raising an eyebrow seductively. “What kind of a hidden agenda do you think I have for you?”

Why is it so fucking hot in here?! “I don’t know…” You start fiddling with the fingers you have placed on your lap. “Drinking my blood, maybe?”

His expression is a mystery to you, even when his smirk seems familiar. “And would you be okay if that’s true?”

You can’t answer but fortunately for you, Eren lets out a chuckle, telling you that he was simply making a joke. You force yourself to laugh but it sounds like a wheeze so you stop before it gets even more humiliating.

Eren walks to your seat with a bottle of wine in his hands, sliding down the glass to your side as he smoothly offers, “Wine, Milady? It’s not blood, I swear.” And you believe him because this time, the liquid seems more ruby than crimson.

“You really need to relax.” Eren leans his back against the edge of the table, raising the glass of his usual red wine in the air before he clanks it gently against yours. “To the cutest, sweetest roommate in the world.”

You immediately take a sip to hide the flush that blooms on your face, flinching when the burning, mildly bitter flavor hits your tongue. You’ve never drunk any alcohol in your life and although this first experience feels rather unpleasant, you keep chugging more of it down your system.

“Does it taste good?” He questions, secretly smiling to himself as he witnesses how fast you’re drinking the whole glass down. You shake your head in response, which earns another laugh from him.

You’re not sure whether it’s because it’s your first time drinking alcohol or you just have a low tolerance when it comes to it, but you can feel yourself getting both lightheaded and drowsy not long after. Eren, who takes notice of that, moves you to the couch so you can rest more comfortably. “I better take this away,” he tells you, circling his lean fingers around your wine glass but you stop him.

“No,” you say, eyes a little bit unfocused as you push him away. “I’m fine. Pour me some more.”

“Don’t you think it’s enough?”

“Just another glass, Jaeger, don’t be a bitch about it.”

Your words stun him for a second before he chuckles. “Damn. All right, just don’t blame me for it,” he states as he pours you another one.

“I have a question for you,” you coo as he takes a seat on the coffee table, facing you. “What were you like in the past?”

He freezes, taken aback but collects his composure within seconds. “Why the sudden interest?”

“No reason. It’s just you’ve never really told me about yourself.”

“I thought I’ve told you enough. I even told you about my dick size.”

“Which I never asked.”

“But you were curious.”

You try your best not to get sidetracked. “When I asked you about mind compulsion,” you slur out your words. The alcohol in your system makes you feel brazen. “You looked like you’ve done something in the past. Something… awful.”

You don’t notice the way his hold around his glass tightens at your guess. “Well, they don’t call me a monster for no reason,” he keeps his voice light even when he feels something churning inside his chest. “I did something, yes, but… I promise you I won’t do that again.”

You can sense it again. That feeling where he seems like he wants to say everything but he’s too scared to do so. Reaching out to pat his hand, you assure him, “Eren, you know I won’t judge, right? What you did in the past wouldn’t change the way I think about you.”

His smile is melancholic, eyes dull with sadness. “I just don’t want you to be afraid of me.”

“Afraid of you?” You tease him. “Ren, you’re a six feet tall vampire who’s afraid of cockroaches and makes thirst trap videos as a hobby. There’s literally no way I could be scared of you.”

Your laughter is a delightful symphony in his ear but for the first time, he doesn’t have the energy to mirror you. Your laughter subsides at his reaction, and you slide your fingers past his wrist to tangle around him. “You don’t have to keep everything to yourself,” you utter. “Eren, if you’re in pain, tell me. If you need help, let me know. If you want someone to listen to you, I would love to do so. And if you want someone to accept you for who you are—for who you truly are—not just a vampire but also the person you were before, I will be that for you.” You disentangle your hand from him just to brush a stray lock that falls out of his bun, tucking it behind his ear. “You’re not alone, okay?”

Eren watches you in silence, his lips parted but his tongue can’t shape the words, not when you’re smiling so delicately like this. There’s gratitude welling up inside him, as well as joy and the affection he holds for you, but there’s also fear. What he did in the past was… something he was sure you weren’t ready to hear. He’s afraid that your thoughts about him would change despite your promise. He wants to tell you the truth. He’s dying for you to know every part of him and the past he’s been trying to hide, but… He’s terrified.

He chews on his lower lip, contemplating. “Would you… believe me if I told you I was a prince?”

You blink. “You were?”If you weren’t intoxicated, you would’ve laughed.

“Yeah. Seems very unlikely, doesn’t it, with the way I’m behaving now?” He chuckled sheepishly. “But I was, eight hundred years ago. Before I was turned into… this.” He casts his gaze downward, looking at his palm and remembering the first night where he had warm blood staining his hands and his own fangs puncturing his lip. “I came from a place called Paradis. We were the strongest kingdom on the continent for decades, ruling over four others. I was their second prince.” He’s better at concealing his emotions this time, and with alcohol fogging your thoughts, you fail to notice the way he has his other hand clenching into a fist, his nails digging hard enough to leave marks on his palm. “It’s a boring story, though,” he says, playfully bumping his shoulder against yours. “I don’t want to put you to sleep. We still have a birthday to celebrate.”

“I wish to know more, actually,” you chuckle, swirling your wine inside your glass before you take a sip. “Eren Jaeger, The Second Prince of Paradis. Has a nice ring to it. Did people announce your title like that when you stepped into the room?”

Eren’s eyes widen as the ghosts from his past come alive in his head. Those voices he’s been trying to silence, those faces he’s been trying to forget, they’re all revived at once.

Look at him. Eren Jaeger, The Devil of Paradis.

A disgrace. A filthy half-blood. He should’ve died, just like that witch.

No. We should kill him.

“Yeah,” Eren swallows. “Yeah, they called me like that all the time.” He brings the tip of his glass to his lips, gulping down a thick amount of blood to distract himself.

Oblivious to what he’s feeling, you move toward another topic. “Does everyone’s blood taste the same to you?”

“It differs,” he answers. “But only faintly. I’m not that picky about it.”

“And how does it feel having your blood sucked by a vampire?”

“You’re asking the wrong guy.” He sways his head from side to side, chuckling lightly. “I mean, of course, I can have my blood drunk by another vampire but I’m not that kinky. I know some vampires who are into that kind of shit though.”

“Well, by the sound of your girls screaming like they were giving birth, it’s either very painful or very…” The sight of him staring at you intently, taking in your features, nearly throws you off tracks. “Pleasurable.”

There’s an awkward pause and silence hangs around to fill the space. The voices inside his head gradually turn into whispers, drowned by the curiosity that builds up within him. You’re being transparent, every emotion, every desire you usually kept hidden is now showing vividly on your face. He doesn’t intend to be cruel, but if this serves as a chance for him to know how you truly feel about him, then he will take advantage of it. “How come you’re asking me these questions?” He asks.

“Because that’s all I’ve been thinking about,” you confess, feeling braver with each second passing by. “And it’s not just about you drinking my blood, but more about you entirely. You know what I mean?”

Eren places his glass down on the table, leaning towards you. If his heart was beating, it would be pounding right now. “Not sure, but I’m all ears.”

“I… just…” It’s getting harder to speak when he’s so close, you can start locating every tiny mole he has on his face and his neck. The small one near his Adam’s apple is the one that distracts you the most. “I just think we’re compatible with each other, you know? And I’ve never enjoyed someone’s company this much before. You’re funny, you’re smart, and you’re both endearing and so freaking annoying at the same time—how is that possible?”

But Eren isn’t laughing. His eyes are deep and dark, raking over your profiles with so much intensity but when he swats the bangs out of your eyes, his touch is tender. “What else? Tell me more.”

You lean closer to his touch like how a kitten would, making him gulp slightly at the sight. “I get so vexed whenever you spend your time with someone else. I know I have no right to be jealous since we’re just friends but I can’t help it.” You exhale, rubbing the side of your face with your palm. “It’s so fucking tiring to think about you this much when I can’t have you.”

You’re so lost in your own thoughts that when Eren reaches out a hand to touch your face, you jump in surprise, spilling wine all over your blouse. “Shit, this is my favorite shirt,” you whine, hastily settling down your glass on the table. “Can you get me some tissues?”

But what he does is lift your body with both of his arms and carry you to the bathroom. You cling onto him with a yelp, trying to keep yourself away from falling even though you’re sure he’s perfectly able to hold your weight.

Eren places you down on the bathroom counter, your fingers gripping at the edge of your sink. Sitting up straight, you begin to feel conscious of your surroundings. “What are you doing?”

“It’s your favorite shirt, right? We need to wash the stain before it sticks,” He explains, his fingers going to your collar. You nearly stop breathing when he asks for permission to undress you, “May I?”

You swallow the lump in your throat before you offer him a weak nod. “Yes.”

He takes time unbuttoning your shirt one by one when you know he can rip it apart easily with one finger. He’s so gentle, his touches are paper-thin but whenever his icy fingertips make slight contact with your skin, it sends electricity to every inch of your body.

When he manages to untangle the clothing from your body, you’re only left in your bra and your white satin lace cami top. You can tell he tries to be polite by not staring at your exposed skin, and instead, focusing on fixing your blouse. He drags it over to the sink, drenching it with water.

“Where did you place the detergent again?” He asks, reaching up over your head to check on the top cabinet and he’s so fucking close that you can see the movement of his Adam’s apple as he speaks. And it’s really, really tempting to just lean over and—

Eren flinches when he feels you sinking your face in the crook of his neck, mapping your lips on his skin and breathing in his scent. You don’t know what vampires usually smell like but Eren reminds you of summer even when you’re not sure what summer smells like. It’s funny how you’re not making sense, even in your own thoughts.

Pushing you away by the shoulders, Eren’s eyes gleam in a way you’ve never seen before. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I…” You can’t form a word—you can’t even form a thought as you’re too busy staring at his lips, musing over how smooth they look, how thrilling they must feel against your own. And perhaps he’s thinking the same thing about yours too because when you lean in for a taste, he meets you halfway.

The kiss feels warm and it doesn’t make any sense, because the rest of his body is icy cold but as you press your mouth against his, all you can think about is how his lips are hot and soft, so fucking soft and delightful and maybe it’s just your mind playing tricks on you but you don’t care.

You breathe heavily through your nose, yanking at the collar of his shirt so he’s closer to you than he’s ever been. You tilt your head slightly, angling your face so you can meld your lips deeper against his. He instinctively reacts by holding the side of your face, his fingers slipping between your strands, his tips curling around your nape.

He kisses better than any man you’ve ever been with and you’re sure he’s better than any man you’ll ever date in the future. Eren knows what he’s doing. Even when he’s caught by surprise, his lips are dancing against yours so sensually that they leave you melting in his arms.

Sliding your hand up to his chest, you can tell how his skin stands in contrast to the warmth of his mouth and it makes you shiver. Your breathing rags as you moan into his mouth, letting him taste the alcohol that lingers inside yours. You trace your tongue along the puncture of his fang that’s still retracted, almost as normal as a human’s but something inside you tells you it’s not going to stay that long if you continue with this. Anticipation builds up fast inside you. There’s absolutely no way you’re going to stop what you’re doing.

But Eren is surprisingly more chivalrous than he looks. He pulls away, giving you a few inches of space to break the attraction. It’s not enough, your mind is still heavily clouded by the thoughts of him, so you reach up to kiss him again, catching his lower lip between yours.

“No, wait,” he vocalizes, his voice sounding breathy even when his lungs no longer function in the way they used to. He circles his fingers around your wrists, holding them down against the counter so you won’t be able to move.

“Let me just kiss you,” you plead, eyes dazed and desperate. “Please.”

His chuckles are soft, almost inaudible. “You’re drunk.”

“I’m not, I swear.” It’s horribly embarrassing how much you crave his touch as if losing physical contact with him causes you madness. “Hold up your fingers and ask me to count them. I’ll guess it right, trust me, so can you just—” You try to move your hand to pull him close but his grip around your wrist is stronger than your strength. “Eren—”

“Look, I want this just as much as you do—” He cuts his line short and continues it sharply with a groan when he feels your knee sliding between his legs, giving him the friction that he needs. “Fuck. I probably want this more than you do, but—” He loses control for a split second, re-attaching his mouth to yours with so much fervor, tongues desperate to taste one another. The way you whimper against him makes him groan, his hand gliding down your thigh and spreading your legs apart so he can fit himself between them.

It’s when his fangs suddenly puncture your lips, drawing a hint of blood and making you cry out in surprise that he wakes up from his reverie. He pushes himself away immediately to the other side of the room. You almost topple forward from suddenly losing his body to lean on, only managing to keep your balance at the last second by gripping at the edge of the counter.

Eren turns around, facing the bathroom tiles as he leans one hand against the wall while his other one covers his mouth. He curses under his breath, loathing how he nearly lets the monster inside of him take control of his body.

“Eren?”

“Sorry, let me just—“ His shoulders are shaking, trying his best to soothe the thirst that overwhelmed him earlier. His canines feel burning. “They’ll go back in a minute.”

“No.” You jump down from the counter, moving to his spot with careful steps. “Let me see them.”

He shakes his head, unable to find the courage to face you. “Stay away.”

“I want to see them.” You place your hand on his shoulder, caressing him gently until he finally submits to your touch.

You only ever saw him with his fangs retracted twice in your life but even then, it was always too dark and too fast for you to see him properly. But now… Now you can take your time.

God, he’s gorgeous.

His eyes, as they peer into you in concern and the uncertainty that he might hurt you, are radiant, glowing like ambers in the dark of the night. But instead of jade green, they shine luminously in crimson, so strikingly beautiful that you can barely look at anywhere else. His fangs are now twice their usual size but he can still hide them behind his lips if needed. It’s the way they become frighteningly sharp that sends a shiver down your spine but you brave yourself enough to reach out to him.

“Can I… touch them?” You hesitantly ask. Eren looks conflicted by the question but soon gives you a timid nod. He parts his mouth slightly so you can trace your fingertip along his cuspid. It feels like a knife splitting your skin, making you flinch in surprise.

He hastily pulls back, terrified at the thought of hurting you. “S-sorry—”

“Do it with me.”

“What?”

You take a deep breath, your heart rate soaring. “I want you to drink from me.”

“You’re being insane—”

“Please.” You lay a hand on his chest, inclining your head and pushing back your hair to expose more skin of your throat. He feasts on the sight of the pulsating vein that paints the side of your neck, his blood boiling with need. “Just try, Eren…”

The glimmer in his eyes shows that he’s yearning to fulfill your wish but he cups your cheek again, fighting back his raging desire to consume you. “You’re sure about this?”

“Yes.”

“You’re gonna regret this in the morning.”

“I won’t.” Your fingers find home in his waves, pacifying him with your tender touch. “I’ve been wanting this for a long time and—”

A high-pitched yelp that flees from your lips cuts your sentence short and you have to muffle the rest of your scream by mouthing against the fabric that covers his shoulder. Eren doesn’t waste any second after he hears your confession. His canines are prickling against the skin under your jaw, just between the earlobe and the collarbone. It hurts when he sinks them—so, so badly—that tears begin to form almost instantly behind your closed lids.

Eren suddenly lets you go, his ruby eyes widening as he gazes at the way blood is gushing through his bite mark. “Fuck,” he says, “How can you taste so—” and he dives in again, moaning rather loudly when the warmth of your blood fills his mouth, swallowing a big gulp each time. “So fucking good,” he murmurs in pleasure, tightening his hold desperately around your waist as if you’re the thread that keeps him alive.

“Wait—Ah!” You’re being pushed back, your body squeezed between the tiles and the muscles of his chest. The key-shaped pendant he wears above his heart is digging into your skin. He lands one hand against the wall as he sinks his face deeper in the crook of your neck. You fall weak, your fingers fisting the back of his shirt, twisting and pulling until the fabric slides off his shoulders.

The pain only stays for a few seconds before a rush of endorphin seeps into your skin, running through your veins and pumping euphoria to every inch of your body. You begin to relax, eyes becoming half-lidded as you go into a trance, your heartbeat slowing down. You’ve never done any methamphetamine in your life but you imagine that it must feel somewhat like this.

“Eren…” You breathe out, feeling a little bit lightheaded. The strap of your camisole is falling off your shoulder while his shirt is pooling around his elbows. You can feel your knees slowly giving out under your weight and you claw against his back, your fingers gliding against the muscles underneath his shoulder blades as you try to maintain your balance. “Eren, I… I can’t stand…”

He breaks away only to haul you up so you can wrap your legs around his waist, and wind your arms around his neck. He carries you back to the bathroom counter, placing you down on the same spot as before, your legs dangling in the air.

“Better?” He rubs comforting circles with his thumb along your cheekbone, analyzing your expression. You nod, your gaze going down to focus on his fangs again. Your blood paints his lips. Some of it trickles down his chin. He’s a monster, he truly is, but his eyes, though they are now scarlet and flickering like torches, are tender and patient.

He slides his hand down to the hem of your camisole, fingers rubbing against the fabric as he peppers soft kisses along your jawline. “Is this one your favorite too?”

“Huh?” You’re having the hardest time trying to focus. “Oh… No, not really.”

“Well, then,” his lips are still sucking bruises on your neck when he rips both of your camisole and your bra with one flick of his hand, exposing your bare chest to the cold air.

Jolting in surprise, you squeak out his name but you’re silenced with another kiss, one that is so consuming, so deep, so wild that you nearly sob against his mouth. The taste of copper makes you frown in discomfort but the knot starts to loosen when his tongue darts out to meet you in a messy kiss.

His hand goes down to your breast, cupping the side while he runs his thumb along your sensitive bud. You rake your nails against his back in response, aching for more. His other hand is tracing the curve of your waist, going down to your hips before he tears your skirt away. He tosses the clothing somewhere across the room, following your previous ones.

“Tell me if you want to stop,” he reminds you, hooking his hands at the back of your knees before he pulls your legs forward. Pressing his hardness against the wetness of your lingerie, you both let out a whine.

“Fuck,” he hisses. “Want you so bad, Princess.”

“Me too,” you keen, circling your legs around his waist for stability. “Don’t stop, please,” you murmur against his ear, robbing a low groan from the back of his throat.

It’s unfair that he’s still fully clothed while you’re almost nude. You tug on his shirt and Eren helps you toss it to the floor. You roam your lips to every inch of his bare skin, your lipstick staining the front of his chiseled chest before you mouth against his shoulder.

Eren licks along the wound of his previous bite, emitting a sinful moan when your blood sparks ecstasy in his mouth. His fingers are tentatively rubbing you over your lingerie and you beg with your lips muffled by the skin that covers his collarbone. “Take it off. Just take it off, please—“

You can feel a tiny laugh reverberating from his chest from how desperate you’re being but you don’t care. You really are that desperate.

Eren is more than willing to comply, sliding your lingerie down your thighs and you help him push it off your legs completely. You guide his palm to your heat, breathing out his name in a soft moan when his fingers promptly slide between your folds, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit. His mouth finds its way down the valley of your breasts and he goes lower and lower until he has his head between your legs.

You nibble at your lip in anticipation when he presses open-mouthed kisses on the inner part of your thigh. Eren makes sure he has his eyes fixed on yours when he dips his fangs into your supple skin, making you quiver with the sensation. The second bite isn’t as shocking as before and you’re so aroused by the little mmm that escapes him. He drinks from your thigh, his tongue flicking over the wound before he sinks his teeth again, maintaining his gaze on yours all the while. “Sweet…” His moans are so sexy and obscene, you feel like you can listen to them forever. “You taste so fucking sweet, Princess.”

“God, Eren.” You’re going insane, you can feel it. “I want you. I want you in me. I want you all over me.”

And he probably is too because he’s abandoning all of his self-control at once. The way he sucks bruises on your skin, lapping at the trail of blood that painted your body is almost animalistic, raw passion mixed with lust and uncontrollable desire. He drags his mouth to your center, tongue darting out to lap at your folds this time. Your hand goes straight to his head, slipping your fingers between the strands before you tug on his bun. He grunts a little when he feels you yanking at his roots, his hair tie sliding off until his strands fall loose, brushing against his shoulders.

You rock your hips against his mouth, his eyes glowing even brighter, filled with lust. He retracts his fangs just so he can suckle on your clit, abusing the same spot with his expert tongue. You taste even sweeter than your blood, intoxicating him to his bones.

“Come back to me,” you plead. “I need you.”

He returns to his feet and unbuckles his belt in a hurry, his mouth finding purchase on yours again. He pushes his jeans and briefs down just low enough to release himself from his confinement. You can feel his tip grazing against your clit before he glides his length down your folds, pulling you by the legs so you’re almost lying down on the counter with your upper back pressed against the mirror behind you.

His eyes are hooded but they speak reassurance when they bore into yours. “I’ll be gentle.”

Now that it finally sinks you’re going to do this for the first time, your lustful desire quickly changes into jitters. You nod, permitting him to proceed.

The feeling of him stretching you little by little is excruciating and he can tell that too, hissing, “Fuck, you’re so tight,” as his eyebrows adjoin in the middle. Unable to handle the pain, you reach out a hand to stop him but he grabs your wrist and plunges his teeth into your skin.

Another jolt of pain sends tremors all over your body before the rush of endorphin hits you like a wave, gradually reducing your pain until you’re in haze again, blissful even, but also even more aroused than before.

“You’re okay?” He licks the blood that trails down your arm before he presses a lingering kiss against your veins. “Are you still in pain?”

You’re breathing hard but you can feel your heartbeat slowing. “No. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He brushes his smile against your forehead before he returns to position. “Let’s start slow, okay?”

“No…” You push your body forward, tangling your arms around his neck. “Don’t hold back.” You lean close to his ear, kissing his shell once before you whisper, “I want you to fuck me, Ren.”

His grip on your thigh tightens, his mouth colliding with yours in a frantic kiss. “I’m gonna move,” Eren gives his final warning before he rams his hips forward, filling you up so deep, you swear you can feel him in your stomach.

Even when he said he was going to be gentle with you, he’s doing the exact opposite. Or maybe he is going gentle, which only makes you wonder how wild he can be once he stops caring about your safety. The thought of him losing control of his mind as he pounds into you senselessly makes you shudder, your walls closing hard around his length.

“My God.” The feeling of your heat enveloping him—squeezing around him—makes him drop his temple on your shoulder, dissolving him into a groaning mess. “You are driving me insane, do you know that?”

“I can take it.” You hold his face, caressing his sharp jawline with trembling fingers. “It’s not painful anymore, so please, just… Do whatever you want with me.”

“But I’ll break you.” Although his eyes speak like he wants nothing but to grant your wish.

You let your tongue slide up from his chin to his lower lip, stopping just to whisper, “Then break me apart, I don’t care,” before you crash his mouth with yours again.

Eren’s thrust is both deep and hard, knocking your breath with each drive of his hips as he holds you by your waist, nails clawing into the skin. Maybe it’s because there’s still a trace of endorphin in your body that heightens all your senses and washes all your pain away because everything feels so unbelievably good. His touches, his kisses, his thrusts, and the way he moves his hips faster and faster until you can’t properly breathe—everything feels amazing.

And his voice—God, his voice—the way he moans and grunts against your ear, or when he sprouts expletives while he buries his face deep in the crook of your neck, lips scorching hot against your skin, makes you think fuck, why did I waste a fucking year doing nothing when I can have him like—

You’re interrupted from finishing your thought when Eren suddenly pulls out of you, making you whimper from the loss. He turns you around, forcing you to land on your feet again with your stomach pressed against the edge of the counter. You place both hands on the marbled surface as he pulls your hips closer to him, pressing his hardness against your behind as he glues his chest to your spine.

“Come here, look,” he says, holding you by the jaws and elevating your face just enough so you can gaze directly into the mirror. He shifts his hand, now holding back your bangs so your eyes are reflected perfectly. “Look how beautiful you are,” he purrs right next to your ear, the tip of his nose brushing against your jawline.

It’s both embarrassing and arousing to see yourself being held domineeringly by him, the curves of your body fit his perfectly even from behind. Your lips are bruised and swollen, blood smears messily around your neck, your wrist, your thigh even on your hips from the way he trailed his coated fingers along the skin.

Eren raises two of his blood-smeared fingers to your lips, mixing your lipstick with your own blood before he slowly drags his fingers away, painting blurred lines of crimson on your cheek. He sighs at the sight, eyes half-lidded as they glow brighter. “If I’m a monster,” he says, voice low and breathy, “Then you’re a fucking goddess.”

You shiver as you avert your gaze, ashamed of how sultry you look in the mirror and how sinful his gaze is as they rake over your body. He presses close, completing the dip of your spine with his chest like a matching puzzle. His fingers curl around the front of your neck, forcing you to look at your reflection once more as he licks a stripe up your wound. “We look good together, don’t you think?”

You’re panting hard, chest heaving up and down with each breath you take. “Eren…” You long for him to fill you again like before. “Please, just—"

He glides his hand down between your legs, teasing your cunt with small touches but strong and fast enough to make you quiver. “So sensitive too,” he chuckles, nipping slightly at your earlobe. “You’re so fucking cute.”

Before you can retort anything back, he pushes the head of his cock into your heat again, agonizingly slowly at first but slams the rest of it with one snap of his hips.

“I’ve thought about this—about us. I’ve been thinking about you so much, it scares me,” he confesses, with low groans interrupting his lines. He thrusts steadily into you, his cock rubbing deliciously against your walls. “You’re driving me crazy with that face of yours. Your lips, your voice—whenever you call my name, whenever you pout after losing an argument—the way you secretly stare at me wherever I go—ah, fuck—”

“I don’t—” You gasp, thighs trembling under your weight. He wraps an arm along your stomach, holding you still while he pushes in deeper. “I never—”

“And the way you lie just like now,” He chuckles, kissing the middle of your shoulder blades. “Fuck, you’re so cute—so fucking cute that it pisses me off whenever you talk about Armin when we both know he can’t satisfy you the way I do—he doesn’t understand you—doesn’t get your stupid jokes—” He begins to fall out of rhythm, hips moving faster with each thrust. “He doesn’t deserve you—I deserve you.”

You catch the sight of your reflection, noticing how he sometimes throws his head back in pleasure, his strong hands gripping the sides of your waist as he rolls his hips, again and again, thrusting into you until you can only cry out his name and nothing more. It’s too obscene, too erotic for your eyes to witness, and when he locks his gaze with yours in the mirror, you nearly faint.

“E-Eren—” You reach out a hand behind you, trying to find him for support but he holds your wrist against your spine, pumping into you with strong strokes. He leaves you with no option but to press the side of your face against the marble countertop, your mouth parting in a silent scream.

The sounds of his groans and your whimpers echo through the bathroom walls, along with the sound of your skin slapping against his. His teeth prickling against your shoulder, his eyes drifting back to the mirror to see how you look underneath him. He sinks his fangs deep into you one more time, making various sounds of pleasure as he drinks your blood.

“Ren—”

“Cum,” he orders, growling against your skin. “Come on, baby, I need you to cum on my cock." The sensation of his thrust, his fingers slightly choking you as he holds you by your neck, and the amount of endorphin that washes over you soon drives you to your release. You mewl out his name, clenching tightly around him. "Mmm, yeah, fuck, just like that—" Eren lets out a guttural moan with his head thrown back in pleasure. He's not giving you a chance to ride your orgasm slowly as he continues ramming his length into you. "Perfect. You're so fucking perfect, Princess. Feel so good around my cock—”

A train of expletives tumbles from his mouth as he embraces you closer, feeling every shake that you emit directly with his body. You’re not sure if it’s from the loss of blood or everything else combined, but your vision starts to blur and suddenly your world turns black.

***

When you wake up, you’re lying down on your bed, staring at the ceiling you’ve seen a million times with your eyes barely open. You’re still pretty much in a haze, not sure if you’re still floating inside your dream or you’ve returned to reality. It’s until your door opens with a click that you can start to differentiate.

“Ah, you’re awake.” He peeks inside through the door holding your favorite mug, already dressed back in his favorite black tee and matching jeans. “I was wondering when you’d wake up. Can I come in?”

He walks in without needing an answer and, weirdly, he doesn’t seem nervous or awkward. Unlike you whose blood is rushing fast to your face, your heart thrashing wildly inside your rib cages. A flashback comes in like an unstoppable train and you almost reach out a hand to your neck, wanting to know if his bite marks are still there.

The way he acts is so natural that you begin to wonder whether all that happened was simply your imagination. But when you try to move your body, jolts of pain run like electricity to your bones, and you freeze. It feels like somebody is trying to crack your head open, tearing your body apart. You fall back to the bed, weak and enervated.

“You all right?” He immediately rushes to your side, sitting on the edge of the bed before he gathers your face in his hands. He observes you closely, looking for signs of discomfort. “Be careful, okay? You lost a lot of blood, so I wouldn’t move too much if I were you. I brought you some coconut water. Here,” he places the mug down on your nightstand. “And some supplements too. They’ll help with your blood loss. I’ll cook some fish and eggs for dinner later.”

You can only nod, too tired to even speak. His eyes begin to soften, his fingers reaching out to caress the strands of your hair. “I guess I went a bit overboard, I’m sorry.”

“A bit…?” You croak out.

“I’m sorry,” he repeats, unable to stop a smile from forming on his face. “I tried so hard not to but you were so cute.” He leans closer, his lips hovering above yours but he rethinks his decision before he closes the gap. He moves to bestow a gentle kiss on your forehead instead. “You should go back to sleep,” he murmurs against your skin. “Call me when you need help. I’ll be right outside.”

He doesn’t spare you a glance as he stands up from the bed, but the way he trips on his feet once makes you realize that oh, maybe he’s embarrassed about all of this too.

“Eren.”

He stops in his tracks, glancing over his shoulder as he lays a hand on your doorframe. “Yeah?”

“Where does this leave us?”

His face turns stern. Spinning over to face you, he questions further. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” you pause, wetting your lip in anxiety. “Do you want us to pretend it didn’t happen?”

His eyes darken, seemingly upset. “Do you?”

“I… Uhh…” Your heart is beating so fast that you feel nauseous. “I don’t, but—”

“Then don’t suggest something like that,” he sighs, walking back to your bed again. He kneels on the floor so you’re eye-to-eye, squeezing your hand with his larger one. “Don’t scare me, okay? I finally have you where I want you.”

You look away, attempting to hide your flustered face. “But then, what are we now?”

“I don’t care what we are. I just want us to keep doing this.”

“Doing what, having sex? Drinking my blood?”

“No, idiot.” He rolls his eyes. “I mean, yes, of course, that too. Plenty of that. But what I meant was I want to continue to have this kind of relationship with you. Just the two of us living together, making fun of each other, or spending hours watching re-runs of your stupid TV shows.”

“They’re not stupid.”

“They’re stupid. I only watch them because of you. You are my favorite show.” He winks to break the tension and you blurt out laughing, shoving him playfully by the shoulder. But when your giggle starts to fade, Eren leans in to cup your cheek, smiling softly. “I just want to spend more time with you, as long as you’d let me. So can we have that? Please?”

“I…” You’re so captivated by his features. The perfect shape of his lips is the one that steals your attention away. “I guess…”

“You guess?” He scrunches up his nose cutely like a child. “You’re playing hard to get again? Really? After all the begging you did in the bathroom?” Seeing you turn flustered only makes him want to tease you even harder. “What was it that you said? God, Eren, I want you. I want you in me. I want you all over me—“

“Okay, shut up, geez!” You slap a hand against his mouth, steam practically coming out of your ears. “Yes, we can have that. I’d… love to have that actually.”

Kissing your inner palm, he lovingly smiles against your skin, appreciating your honesty. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, Princess?”

***

A/N:

There will be a prequel for this fic, called BEFORE DAWN, which will flesh out more details on Eren's background story when he was a royalty 845 years ago. It will be a tragic love story between a prince and his servant, and how he ended up being turned into a monster at the end.

Click here if you want to be added to my taglist!

If you haven't read the other story I made for Vampire Eren called MIDNIGHT BITE, you can check it out here.

SUPER MASSIVE THANKS to Nokky and Sandra for being my first readers. I love you girls so soooo much ❤️❤️❤️

Also, this is a rewrite of my old NCT fic called Love Bites so if it feels familiar, you know why hehe

Tagging:

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[gyllenhaalstories]

SHADOW SPEAKING — (VAMPIRE!)JAKE 🧛‍♂️🩸

summary: why is fake vampire!jake not invited to parties? because he sucks the life out of them.

warnings: alcohol consumption & tipsy (borderline mean daddy!)jake, curse words, some descriptions of spooky things, established sugar daddy/sugar baby relationship, smut (use of the petname kitten, daddy kink, teasing, praise kink, finger sucking, public sex, biting kink, temperature play, fingering, bathroom/mirror sex, edging, penetration, creampie, forced orgasms). 18+ NO MINORS.

word count: 3410

photo credits: @/eikhos (cropped) / divider credits: @/firefly-graphics

notes: @jakegooglyeyes​‘ vampire!jake ran the marathon so this jake can be silly goofy. another year, another halloween themed sugar daddy!jake fic. 👻 thank you for reading & REMEMBER TO REBLOG!

“Daddy, please.” You breathed out.

Jake’s hand was holding the back of your head, tilting it to expose your neck which he adorned with open mouth kisses and gentle love bites.

You repeated yourself, in vain.

You caught his attention for merely a second, his lust filled eyes were glossy, black from the fully blown pupils.

You put your hands on his cheeks when he kissed your mouth roughly again, but it was another failed attempt.

Jake’s tongue dragged along your the palm of your hand. He twirled his tongue around your thumb and sucked it in his mouth.

Your mind went blank. You watched him switch from your thumb to your pointer finger, taking it in his mouth until his kiss swollen lips brushed against the cold metal of your ring — which matched the one he wore on his ring finger.

You clenched your jaw and blinked the erotic vision away. “Jake.”

He pulled away automatically. The lust remained, but wrinkles of concerns appeared on his forehead. “Is everything alright?”

You nodded, leaning forward for a peck on his cheek to reassure him. “Everything’s going wonderful,” your already soaked panties definitely approved. “But don’t you remember?”

The question did a full turn in his brain, foggy from desire and because he genuinely could not remember what you were referring to.

“Your party. It’s about to start and we didn’t even leave the house!” You chuckled, nerves betrayed the nonchalance you wanted to convey.

“Shit.” It came back to him, the multiple ringings of the phone he ignored and the frantic shopping the night before for new outfits. He went through the seven stages of grief while he tried to evaluate whether it was more polite to show up fashionably late or to not show up and fuck you right here and there.

In the hallway, Jake had been unable to resist you while the two of you were on your way out for this party in question. You could not blame him, you would have forgotten if it was not of the new pair of heels that tortured your feet.

He let out a dramatic sigh, hands dropped to rest on your hips while he prayed for a decision to appear right before your eyes. “Shit,” His eyes, however, lit up with a flash of fear. “It’s a costume party.”

“What?”

“For Halloween, it’s a fucking costume party.”

You laughed, it was fully genuine this time. “And you didn’t care to share that bit of information with me?”

He rolled his eyes at your mocking, you could see the gears working in his head. “I don’t do costumes. They’re lame.” You wanted to disagree, you knew better than everyone that he liked them  —  just not in the context of Halloween. His eyes darted around the room. Unless he wanted to show up as an obscenely expensive couch or abstract painting that looked like it was made by a toddler who did not learn about colours just yet, there was not much inspiration. “Stay here.”

You started to nod, but you were interrupted by a surprise kiss.

“Yeah, stay right here and look pretty. Perfect.” Jake winked at you and disappeared, running in and out of the spacious rooms.

You heard noises  —  and lots of it. Boxes were being dragged, lids of containers thrown on the floor. Then it was his foot steps, short heels clicking on the expensive floors.

“Got it.” He showed his right hand.

“My headband?” Made of gold material and sparkly gems, he showed you the headband you used when you put on make up to keep hair away from your face. It had two cat ears, it was cute and cheap. You frowned, out of confusion and disappointment. Maybe there was a reason why he did not do costumes, he was the one making them lame.

Jake slid the headband on your head and, helped by the mirror by the front door, he fixed your hair for you. “Cutest little kitten.”

This was the laziest costume ever, but you hummed in approval of the nickname. You liked it. He noticed. “What are you going to be?”

“You’ll see. Now,” Jake worked on fixing other details of both of your appearances. His thumb wiped away the slight smudging of your lipstick, your fingers expertly shaped his hair, you both struggled to find the front and back of his chain necklace. With a kiss on your hand, he pulled you towards the exit. “Let’s go to the party so we can pick things up where we left them.”

*~*~*

You flinched when an unfamiliar sensation stung your neck. You turned your head, barely. He was standing in your shadow.

“Fake teeth,” he smiled, showing the quite realistic dentures. “Rawr.”

Cat and vampire, that was not much better than the myriad of devils and angels in respective red and white skimpy outfits you witnessed at the party.

Jake’s arms were loosely wrapped around your waist, one of his wrists sticking out so the skull shaped glass filled with red liquid was not touching you. He continued to nibble your neck until you gave him exactly the response he wanted from you.

You started to wiggle in his embrace, back pressing against his front, ass grinding against his middle.

“Fuckin’ love them.” He spoke, referring to the vampire teeth. “Should’ve used them sooner.” He switched to the other side of your neck.

The teeth hurt, not more than his when he was determined to mark you  —  some primal urge. They felt different. “What’s so special about them?”

He brought the glass to your lips to share a ship, but you declined so he took one in your honour. “They leave pretty marks.”

“You can’t even see them, it’s so dark around here.” It really seemed like they blew up the budget on the row of pitchers of spooky sangria and the unsettling hand shaped ice cubes. The decorations were pleasant, you heard rumours they were purchased at an auction with other old movies’ props.

“No but I,” his tongue licked over the flesh of your skin, pressing against the indents of the biting marks. “can feel them.” He pushed against your ass, angling his hips so that you could most definitely notice his bulge.

You felt your knees weaken, just for a moment. “Come on, we can’t do that here.” There was no resonating him, and the alcohol played no role in his increasing neediness. A little went a long way when it came to blurring Jake’s inhibitions and making him just a tad bit more... Reckless? Courageous? Straight up horny would be more accurate.

Jake tightened his grip around you. “What Daddy wants, Daddy gets.” He discarded his now empty glass. You protested, weakly, while he pushed you away from the living room where most of the guests hung out.

Guided by Jake’s hands, one on your hip and one pressing on your tummy to keep you close. You had no idea who even hosted the party, let alone what the hallway of doors lead to. You tried one door knob  —  locked. You stumbled your way to the next door while Jake bit harder on your shoulder  —  unlocked, but occupied by people tangled up, naked, on the king size bed.

Jake groaned in your ear, you whined when there was only one last room to try. It was the bathroom, it was unlocked and it was empty. He pushed you through the frame and closed the door behind you. His hand searched the wall for the light switches, successfully shining a dim, yellow hue over the two of you.

Time stopped, just for a moment  —  long enough for you to take in the sight of your man. His necklace twinkled under the ceiling light, the corners of his mouth were stained red from the spiked fruit punch, one drop even made it down to his chin and tinted the silver streaks of his beard.

He caged you in, on each side of you there was an hand strongly gripping the counter. “Where were we?” His lips curled into a smirk. “Care to remind me, kitten?”

You began to unbutton his black shirt, bringing him impossibly closer to you for a kiss, but he missed your face by an inch or two.

He squinted at his reflection in the mirror. “Wait.” He turned the faucet on and ran two fingers under it. He wiped his lips and chin of the fruity liquid, then let the water wash it away. He lingered there, taking his sweet time while you squirmed.

Oh, you squirmed  —  partly because of your uncomfortable shoes, also partly because your panties felt wet again. Another ruined pair.

“Turn around.”

You obeyed. You looked at him looking at you.

His right hand remained hovering the sink, water still running, his left one helped you scrunch up your dress to reach for the lingerie that barely covered your core. He slid his thumb under the thin stripe of fabric and moved it to the side. He kicked your feet open for him.

Your whole body flinched when his pointer and middle fingers finally touched your folds. “Fuck.” His fingers were freezing, the tap water was cold. There was a breath stuck in your throat and the more bites he added to whatever it was that he could reach, the more your lungs burnt.

Jake’s fingers pushed through your folds and reached for your clit  —  another flinch. You felt warm to the tough, but his cold fingers tingled on your skin. The tighter the circles got against your clit, the lower his jaw dropped while he watched your reactions.

There was music playing outside, at the party. It was barely loud enough to cover your whimper of disappointment when your folds warmed Jake’s fingers up. “Again,” he glared at you. “Please, Daddy, again.”

An infernal loop began, made of cold water and cold fingers —  and edges. It was like the cold played hide and seek with your orgasm and Jake absolutely loved it. “Oops, too slow.” He replied, every time his fingers left your clit to reach the sink again before you got to cum. How long did this last? Honestly, neither Jake or you had a clue.

Your arousal and the water dripped down your thighs, down your legs, drawing slightly shimmering spiderwebs on your skin. One glance at the floor between your legs made you gasp in embarrassment. And one glance at the mirror made your impatience grow stronger.

It was all a game for Jake who enjoyed playing you like a puppet.

To you, it was torture. Torture that was eased with his his sweet cooing and bites on your shoulder.

It was written all over your face, the game needed to come to an end. “Come on, kitten, let me play with you a little more.”

“No.” Your tone was firm.

“No?” His tone of voice was curious, playful. A smirk spread across his face and exposed the large canines at the corners of his mouth  — just the right amount of longer, bigger, sharper than his own teeth. “Look at me and tell me you want us to stop.”

Your eyes met his in the mirror.

“Look at me and tell me you don’t want me to fuck you.” His hands were on your hips and he pushed you against his bulge, influencing the decision you were struggling to make. His hands left your body and reached for his pants, tucked away around the fabric around his waist. “Did the cat get your tongue?”

You clenched your jaw and gave in, then you leaned forward on the counter and held on your dress so it would not slip down. “Please.”

“Please what?”

“Please, fuck me.”

“That’s it, kitten. So well behaved.” He winked at you, still through the mirror, and jerked himself off for a few strokes. He did not even need spit to coat the tip of his hard cock, he guided himself towards your dripping hole and pushed.

He was not slow, he was not gentle. You closed your eyes until the pain of the stretch around him subsided.

Your wetness helped him fit all of him inside of you. He grunted while you clenched around his length. “Feels so fucking good.” With both hands, he tried to spread you open.

“Harder!” You yelled out, you earned a nod of approval that you caught the sight of in the mirror.

Jake fucked you harder, pulling almost all the way out of your pussy only to slam himself back inside of you. He had wanted to bury his cock inside your pussy for hours at this point, and he did not have it in him to take his sweet time and enjoy you.

You were displeased about that, after being edged and denied time after time.

He liked knowing you were worked up. He liked knowing he was pressing on all of your buttons and he liked knowing you were just so close to cumming that he could rip it away from you again and again and you would still beg for release.

“I need to cum so bad!” You cried out, ignoring the way your thighs and stomach slammed against the counter at each of Jake’s rough thrust.

“I know you do,” He said through gritted teeth, still using the flesh of your ass to hold on to while he fucked your hole. Jake threw his head back, his own neck exposed and you could see the bulging veins.

You moaned, telling him to keep going, yeah, right there, right there where he was hitting your spot, it felt so amazing that you slapped a hand on the mirror as if it could hold you through the upcoming orgasm.

Jake grunted again, he was panting and his his hips stopped to move when he started to cum inside you. Another thrust, another rope of cum painted your clenching, warm walls. It took him a few more pushes of his hips to empty himself inside of you. “Fuck yeah.” He sighed out after he calmed down from his high and, slowly, he pulled out of you. “Not yet though. I’m having too much fun.”

You turned around and stared at him. He was smiling, you were fuming.

“What’s wrong, kitten?” He asked and took in your appearance, your dress was wrinkled and he noticed a drop or two of his load dripping down your thighs. The panties were pointless in holding it in

Only, there was no begging for release anymore. You just wanted to cum and if he would not let you, then you would find a way to get what you want. “Let’s go home, now.”

Jake zipped his pants closed and adjusted the cummerbund of his tuxedo. He was anything but unfazed at your bratty confidence. He let you talk, big girls got themselves into trouble all on their own and you were doing a fantastic job at earning a punishment later for speaking back to him in that tone.

“I’ll finish what you started all by myself.”

He straightened his back and responded with one of his vampire smirks.

You stumbled your way to the door of the bathroom, legs shaking and threatening to give up on you if you dared to walk too fast. One step outside was all you managed to do.

Your dress was roughly scrunched up and a large hand travelled to your front and covered your sensitive core for expert fingers to rub at your swollen clit. “You wanna cum? Then do it.” He rubbed from left to right, fast, too fast, it hurt. “Show everyone how pretty you look when you cum.”

You turned your head slightly, watching as silhouettes in costume walked by the hallway. They could see you, so easily. They could hear you too while your moans turned into audible sobs. You tried to take a step backward, to at least disappear behind the door frame. You were stopped by his body, solid and planted into the floor.

“Don’t fight it. Don’t fight me.” He was in the shadows. This was all a game and he was winning so easily it was almost pathetic.

Your hands reached for his arm, manicured nails digging into the sleeve of his suit. Your legs were closing around his hand but he persisted and forced you to ride the pain. It was painful, the edges, the cold, the broken promise of an orgasm you rightfully earned  —  it hurt more than Jake’s teeth sinking into your bruised neck.

“What now? You don’t wanna cum? You put all that show for nothing?” Jake mocked you, and no matter how much you tried to wiggle away from his hand, all you could do was melt in his arms and surrender. He knew your orgasm finally bloomed before your mind registered it.

The moan that escaped your lips was guttural, your orgasm shook you from your core to your toes, back to your mind while you blinked away the tears of pleasure and your thoughts from earlier.

Chuckles. There were chuckles coming from the hallway, Jake heard them and it fuelled him to fight through his own pain. His wrist cramped, his muscles were on fire. He enjoyed every single second of it. “Soak me up, kitten, let me feel how bad you needed to cum.”

The chuckles echoed within the confines of your empty mind. You knew people could see you  —  and they did. None of their business, it was, but with the incessant torture on your most sensitive spot and the blissful shame of getting caught, another wave washed over you abruptly.

Jake’s other arm squeezed you tight and while the movement of his hand buried in your soaked panties slowed down, then stopped. “Thank me. Thank me for showing you off like that.”

“I —” you tried to speak, but your memory was wiped out of any vocabulary. You mumbled nonsense, they were not even syllables.

“Good job.” Jake praised you despite your failed attempts. He breathed heavily, you imitated him and let your chest rise and fall to the rhythm he set. He pulled his hand away, veins bulging from the efforts, the band of his watch glistened from your juices. His hand was dripping with yours and his cum that leaked out of you.

You figured out that his hand being raised to your face was an indication to clean the mess he made you do. Eagerly, you started to lick and swallow the remains of your leg-shaking orgasms.

He clicked his tongue and whispered to your ear. “Kitten licks.”

You slowed down, you were gentle. You licked every drop of the two of you off his hand until he decided you were done.

You were nudged forward, this time fully standing in the hallway and using the opposite wall to hold you up until Jake stood besides you. He removed his dark coloured jacket and laid it over your shoulders. He fixed your cat ears and then wrapped a possessive arm around your hips. The same hand he fucked you with rested on the small of your back while he forced you to walk back where the party was happening.

Heads turned and eyes stared at you. You could not hold any of the amused, intrigued looks you were given.

Jake lead the way, thanking the hosts for the party, promising to catch up with friends and smiling at other guests. You made your way outside where his chauffeur waited for the two of you. In one final, comical, act of chivalry, he held the door open for you to take place inside the car first. “That was a nice party, wasn’t it?”

You looked at him quizzically.

The bloody beverage wore off, he was full on riding the adrenaline high of the recent events. “I’m glad we came.”

While he sat next to you, air rushed out of your lungs, a small squeal sufficed as an answer.

He held your hand to his lips and kissed along his arm , fake teeth grazing against your skin and leaving goosebumps behind their trail, until he reached your face. He did not bother to lower his voice that much. “I reckon there are two more holes I need to ruin before you can even think you’re done with me tonight.”