#drawing hair is one of my least favorite things

[ediazs]

[pencilofawesomeness]

from chapter 10 of Famous Last Words in May Death Never Stop You by the amazing @slexenskee

I've wanted to draw this scene ever since I read it lmao. Fun fact I was eating lunch at the time and I was laughing so hard I had to leave the room since someone was watching tv. Good times, good times.

[spacebubblehomebase]

Shit post!

Don't take this too seriously, but LMAO XD. -Bubbly💙

[lilacjunimo]

the man, the myth, the legend (mister hunter bad batch)

[arolesbianism]

Ok yeah I’m a little obsessed with them

[tokkiwrites]

game show host!joel miller x contestant f! reader ▪︎summary: it's the late 1970s, and you're fresh out of college. for your graduation gift, your parents got you a special ticket to be part of your favorite game show, 'Love Jive'. They didn't know you didn't like the show itselfㅡ but it's smooth talking MC, Joel Miller. ▪︎tags: pwp, age gap (pretty hefty one), super flirty joel, shy/lovestruck reader, afab!reader, pet names galore!!, p in v (unprotected), mirror sex kind of, slight breeding kink, creampie, joel kind of has an innocence kink idk.

▪︎this has been sitting in my drafts for two months now. Hopefully, you enjoy this short and silly 2.45k words one. There is no plot for it honestly, just thought it would be a cute concept. maybe a series might come from it. Who knows? anyway!!! love ya!!

It was the summer of 1979, and the air felt heavy with possibility. You were fresh out of college, diploma in hand, and ready to take on the world—or at least that’s what you told yourself when your parents asked what came next.

Their graduation gift to you? A surprise ticket to Love Jive, the hottest game show on TV. You’d tried to hide your awkward smile when they handed it over, the envelope sparkling with glitter that matched the show’s logo. What they didn’t know was that it wasn’t the show’s ridiculous premise that had you tuning in every week.

It was him.

Joel Miller.

The man was a legend, smooth as honey and twice as sweet. The way his Texan drawl slid over those ridiculous love-related catchphrases? You swore it had ruined you for men your own age. He had to be at least twenty years older than you, but that salt-and-pepper hair, that sly smile, those broad shoulders stretching under his velvet blazer? They didn’t make men like Joel Miller anymore.

So here you were, standing nervously behind the curtain in the Love Jive studio.

“Contestants, ready?” a stagehand called.

Your stomach did a flip as the warm-up announcer's voice boomed through the speakers. The audience clapped and cheered, the excitement infectious. Before you could second-guess yourself, the curtain lifted, and the stage lights bathed you in gold.

And there he was.

Joel Miller stood center stage, microphone in hand, looking like he owned the room— and maybe he did. That million-watt smile lit up his face, his dark eyes sweeping the contestants before landing on you. He did a double take so subtle you almost missed it, but when his smile softened just a fraction, your heart skipped a beat.

“Well, well, what do we have here?” His voice rolled through the air like warm molasses, drawing chuckles from the crowd. “Looks like we’ve got ourselves some fine contestants tonight. Y’all ready to find love and maybe a little bit of fun?”

The audience erupted in cheers, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to join them. Not when Joel Miller was staring at you like you were the most interesting thing in the room.

“And what’s your name, darlin’?” Joel asked, pointing the microphone toward you.

You blinked, mouth suddenly dry. “Uh—uh, it’s—” You blurted out your name, voice cracking slightly. Joel chuckled, low and smooth, his dimples deepening as he grinned. “Well now, ain’t you just the sweetest thing. Y’all hear that? Even her name’s cute as a button.”

The crowd ooh’d and ahh’d, but Joel’s gaze stayed locked on you.

“Tell me, sweetheart,” he drawled, leaning ever so slightly closer, “what brings a lovely little thing like you to Love Jive? Lookin’ for romance? Or just here for the spectacle?” Heat bloomed in your cheeks, and you prayed the lights were too bright for anyone to notice. “Um, I—I guess you could say both?”

Joel’s eyebrows lifted, and his grin turned downright wicked. “Both, huh? Well, darlin’, I can promise you this much—you’re in for one hell of a show.” The crowd roared their approval as Joel winked at you, leaving your heart thundering in your chest. You’d come to Love Jive expecting to admire Joel Miller from afar. You hadn’t counted on becoming the center of his attention.

And as the game began, one thing became crystal clear: Joel wasn’t just hosting tonight. He was playing a game of his own— and you were the prize he had his sights set on.

Fast forward to the 15-minute commercial break.

The knock on the door came firmly, pulling you out of your flustered thoughts. You glanced at the mirror, smoothing down your blouse and trying to will away the redness on your cheeks. “Come in,” you called out, voice trembling slightly.

The door creaked open, and in stepped Joel Miller, the man of all your desires.

The sight of him so close took your breath away. He leaned casually against the doorframe for a moment, his dark eyes settling on you. His smile, warm and teasing, was the kind that made you feel like you were the only person in the world. “Well, there you are,” he drawled, his voice like velvet. “Thought I’d come check on you, see how my favorite contestant’s holdin’ up.” You blinked, trying to find your voice. “Oh, uh—fine! I’m fine,” you stammered, your hands twisting nervously.

Joel stepped fully into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. The dressing room wasn’t large to begin with, and his presence filled it completely, making the space feel even smaller.

“Fine, huh?” he said, leaning against the vanity, his arms crossing casually over his chest. “Can’t blame you for bein’ a little flustered. All those lights, all those people… and me.” His grin turned teasing, his gaze dropping to your lips for the briefest moment. You laughed nervously, shaking your head. “It’s not—I mean, you’re not—”

“Sweetheart, relax,” Joel interrupted, his voice a low chuckle. “I’m just messin’ with you.” His eyes softened, and he tilted his head. “But if I’m bein’ honest, you’ve got somethin’ about you. That’s got me wonderin’ if maybe I’m the one a little flustered tonight.”

Your heart skipped at his words. “Me?” you asked, disbelief clear in your voice. Joel’s grin deepened, his dimples on full display. “Yeah, you,” he said, his voice dropping slightly. He stepped closer, his hands sliding into his pockets. “Pretty little thing like you walkin’ in here, lookin’ all sweet and innocent, got every man in the audience wishin’ he was sittin' in my shoes tonight.” You felt like your face might catch fire. “I don’t think that’s true,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

Joel reached out, gently lifting your chin so you had no choice but to look at him. His hand was warm and firm, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin. “Well, I do,” he said softly, his dark eyes holding yours. “And I don’t say things I don’t mean, sweet girl."

You swallowed hard, your breath hitching as he leaned in just slightly, his voice dropping even lower. “I was thinkin’... maybe once this show wraps up, you and I could get outta here. Go somewhere quiet. Just you and me.” Your pulse thundered in your ears, and you felt dizzy under his gaze. “You mean… like a date?”

Joel chuckled, the sound rich and deep. “Exactly like a date,” he murmured. “What do you say, sweetheart?” You nodded before you could overthink it, your shy smile breaking free. “I’d really like that.” Joel’s grin turned downright wicked. “Good,” he drawled, his hand sliding to cradle your cheek. “’Cause I’ve been dyin’ to do this all night.”

Before you could say another word, Joel leaned in and kissed you. His lips were warm and sure, moving against yours with a perfect mix of confidence and tenderness. You felt your hands instinctively grip the vanity behind you, your knees going weak as his other hand settled lightly on your waist.

The kiss lingered, soft and sweet, but with just enough heat to leave your head all dizzy. When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested lightly against yours, his thumb brushing over your cheek.

“Damn,” he murmured, his voice rougher now, “even better than I imagined.” You couldn’t help the giggle that bubbled out of you, shy and giddy all at once. “You imagined kissing me?”

Joel grinned, pressing a quick, playful kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Oh, I imagined far more than kissing you, darlin’. Hard not to when you look at me the way you do.” Your heart felt like it might burst, but before you could respond, a sharp knock sounded at the door. “Mr. Miller, we’re back in two!”

Joel sighed dramatically, giving you a wink as he stepped back. “Guess I better get back to work,” he said, his tone light but his eyes still lingering on you. “Don’t go runnin’ off after the show, y’hear? I’m not done with you yet.” You nodded, still too flustered to form a coherent sentence. With one last smirk, Joel turned and strolled out the door, leaving you breathless.

The show had ended in a blur of applause, flashing lights, and the announcer’s booming voice thanking everyone for watching. Contestants and crew mingled briefly as everyone prepared to leave. You’d just stepped to the side of the stage when one of the other contestants, a bubbly blonde in a bright orange jumpsuit, sidled up to you with a knowing smile.

“Well, well, well,” she teased, nudging you with her elbow. “Looks like you really got Mister Smooth swooning all over ya.”

You blinked, startled. “What? No, I don’t think—”

“Oh, honey,” she interrupted with a laugh, crossing her arms. “Everyone could see the way he was devouring you with his eyes. I swear, I was worried he might forget the rest of us were even there.” Your face went hot, and you shook your head quickly. “You’re imagining things.”

“Sure,” she said with a wink, already walking away. “If by ‘imagining things,’ you mean watching him look at you like you hung the moon. Enjoy it, sweetie. A man like Joel Miller doesn’t come around every day.”

Her words echoed in your head as you made your way back to your dressing room. Closing the door behind you, you exhaled deeply, desperate for a moment to collect yourself. The quiet was a relief after the chaos of the show. You slipped out of your stage outfit and into the dress you’d brought for afterward. A soft yellow dress with bell sleeves, a cinched waist, and a flowing A-line skirt covered in a delicate floral print. It felt like something out of a sunny dream, and you hoped it might give you a touch of the confidence you sorely lacked.

You were smoothing the fabric over your hips when the door opened without warning.

“Oh, wow.” The single word made you whirl around. There he was. Joel Miller, standing in the doorway. His tie was loosened, his shirt collar slightly unbuttoned, and his dark eyes were locked on you. “You’re gorgeous,” he said, the words leaving his lips like a breath. Your cheeks warmed instantly, and you managed a shy smile. “Oh, it’s just… just a dress,” you murmured, brushing your hands nervously over the skirt.

Joel stepped inside, closing the door behind him as he approached. His gaze was unwavering, taking you in like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

“Just a dress, darlin’,” he said, his voice low and rough. “But you could be wearin’ a paper bag, and you’d still be the most beautiful thing in the room.” You opened your mouth to respond, but nothing came out. Joel stopped in front of you, lifting a hand to gently cup your cheek. His thumb brushed over your skin, his touch warm and steady.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, more to himself than to you, before closing the space between you.

His lips met yours in a kiss that was anything but hesitant. Where the earlier kiss had been soft and tentative, this one was sure, filled with hunger and intent. His other hand found your waist, pulling you closer as his lips moved against yours with a passion that made your knees weak.

You couldn’t think, couldn’t speak— only feel. His touch, his warmth, the way he held you like you were something rare. “Been thinkin’ about doin’ that since the first time I saw you,” he admitted, his voice rough.

You let out a breathless laugh, your hands clutching the lapels of his jacket for balance. “You’ve kissed me twice tonight, Joel,” you teased, your voice trembling slightly. Joel grinned, his dimples making an appearance. “Yeah, I have a soft spot for sweet girls like yourself. ” he said before pausing shortly. “And if you’ll let me, darlin’, I’d be doin' a lot more than kissing you.”

Stopping him was the furthest thing from your mind.

"I'll let you.."

Without thinking, you tilt your head up, meeting his gaze with a mixture of submission and maybe a little defiance. His eyes darken, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth, as if he's won some battle. " You're a good girl," he breathes, his thumb brushing the edge of your jaw. The contact sends sparks through you, and your skin burns where he touches. Without any hesitation, he spins both of you so that you are facing the large golden mirror above the counter. Joel groans, rolling his shoulders back as he bends you over the vanity, your hips snug in his grip. "God, you're so fuckin' gorgeous, angel."

you look down. "Please.." The man shakes his head and lands a hard smack on one of your asscheeks, making you yelp in the process. He takes his time pulling up your flowy dress, finally taking a look at your soaking panties, white with laced blue details. "Fuck, look at her." His calloused thumb makes contact with your clothed folds, dragging it up and down, in painfully slow circles. In mere seconds, you hear the material rip and then feel the flimsy undergarments fall on the cold tiled floor.

"What a pretty pussy." he mutters under his breath, undoing his trousers. he pulls them a bit down, enough for his manhood to spring free and slap against his covered bellybutton. you can see it all in the mirrorㅡ it's huge, to say the least. you gasp softly as you feel him drag the wet tip of it against your swollen bud, and you hide your gaze, head hanging low in embarrassment. this doesn't last long, as his rough palm grabs at your face pulling it up again. you're making eye contact with him through the lit up mirror and you see him shake his head. "No, baby. You watch while I wreck this pussy, understand?" you shake your head, agreeing, but that isn't good enough so he slaps your cheek with the back of his hand, lightly.

"Speak, sweetheart." you breathe out. "Yes, Joel." he drags the pulsing tip up and down, up and down as if he didn't make you wait long enough. truthfully you never wanted it to end, so maybe him teasing was his way of making sure this lasts. after he thinks its sufficient, Joel starts to push inside, and godㅡ your breath gets stuck into your throat, from the feeling laden with thorns. every prick of discomfort is soon replaced by an unexpected surge of delight.

Your tears fall down onto the surface under you, little moans gripping your throat as he slips inside further. "You're alright..." he assures you, asking you to surrender.

"Take it all. Atta girl, just like that..." he praises, lifting your hips a bit to get a better angle. Joel moves gently at first, each stroke hitting deeper within your core, the pain soon converging with ecstasy right as he alerts his movements. His hips dive down with force, one of his palms snaking up and wrapping itself tightly around your throat, assuring you see how good he's destroying you.

Your head was spinning, heart pounding, as his whole weight dominated over you. "That's it, little girl, look how tight she's suckin' me in." his thrusts are rough, each hit making your body bounce, the urgency as he hit that very spot each time. your whole insides burning, too cock drunk to talk or respond, other than some pathetic whines that perfectly accompanied the wet sounds your pussy made wrapped around him.

"Oh, god, please.." You manage. pulling at your hair, he starts chuckling. "Am I your god, baby? Ya like beggin'?" While thrusting relentlessly into you, jelly like legs barely holding you up anymore, your knees buckle. Feeling you tightening, the hand that was around your throat slips down to your clit, while the other makes you spread your legs wide again for easier access, this allowed you to take in a big gulp of air before you feel him deeper in your guts.

"Want me to breed this young pussy, huh? Fill you up with my babies? let people inside this roomㅡ let them film it for the whole world to see?" the room spins around you, vision blurry with tears and brain all fuzzy. you try your best to reply. "yes, oh, p-lease, please! "

"Go ahead." the man succeeded to say, between his breathy groans. "Thank you, thank you, oh god, thank you so much, Joel!" you cry out, praying to him whilst he keeps fucking into your pulsing cunt. The man buries himself into you as you come down from your high, body almost too limp to register your surroundings. then he slaps your ass, and watches you writhe under him. You looked perfect, like a carved our porcelain doll. With a few more snaps of his hips you feel he's close, his nails digging roughly into your skin as he finally paints your velvet walls with white ropes of come. "God fuckin'ㅡ!" you know that will leave bruises.

the dressing room feels sticky, and the mirror in front of you is all fogged up, but you can just barely make out your face, all tearstained and messy. You moan as he pulls out, the sudden feeling of emptiness leaving you shivering. Joel watches intently as his seed drips out of you, your body beautifully splayed out right under him like the most beautiful piece of art.

You're both quiet for a bit, before he breaks the silence. "You're still up for that date, little lady?"

[ahqkas]

♯ I PLEDGE ALLEGIANCE TO MY DAD . . . for teaching me everything he knows ( dick grayson & jason todd as dads ! )

— fem!reader as mom, fluff, not edited, based on this req.!!

© ahqkas — all rights reserved. even when credited, these works are prohibited to be reposted, translated or modified

. . . DICK GRAYSON !

dick was always great with kids; his natural warmth, patience, and humor made him a magnet for them, even before he became a father. he often thought back to his days as robin, remembering how bruce wayne took him in and gave him stability, and he wanted to offer that same feeling ( and definitely more ) to his children.

when you two first talked about having kids, he was equal parts excited and nervous about it. dick worried about balancing family life with his vigilante responsibilities, but he couldn’t wait to start a family with you. he knew that no matter what, you’d face it together

your first child, a boy, inherits your husband’s bright energy and natural charisma. from the moment your son was born, dick was a hands-on dad. midnight feedings? no problem. diaper changes? a breeze ( well, almost ). he approached fatherhood the same way he approached everything else—with passion and a healthy dose of humor

he’s not just the dad who builds the coolest blanket forts or makes pancakes shaped like bats; he’s the dad who listens, encourages, and shows up, no matter how tired he might be after a long night of patrol. even when exhaustion clings to him like a second skin, his kids come first. if his son wants to show him the new drawing he made, dick will sit down and marvel at it as if it belongs in a gallery. if his daughter has a nightmare, he’s at her bedside in seconds, stroking her hair and whispering how she’s okay and nothing’s gonna hurt her while he’s here until she drifts back to sleep

he’s the dad who remembers every detail about his kids’ lives—their favorite bedtime stories, their least favorite vegetables, the songs that make them smile—and makes sure they feel seen and heard every single day. when he’s with them, he’s fully present, setting aside his worries about blüdhaven or the weight of his world. to them, he’s not nightwing; he’s just dad, their safe place, the person they know will always be there no matter what

he teaches your son how to ride a bike, holding the seat steady as those wobbly first attempts make an appearance. “you’ve got this!” dick encourages his son, jogging beside him. when the first scrape happens—knees meeting pavement in a blur of surprise and pain—he’s there in an instant, crouching down with the kind of gentle urgency only a dad can master

his strong arms wrap around his son in a hug that says, i’ve got you, even as tears well up in the young eyes. he’s quick with jokes to soothe the sting, brushing dirt and pebbles off tiny palms. “hey, you know what? you’re officially a biker now. all the pros have scars to prove it.”

it doesn’t matter if he’s running on just a few hours of sleep or if his legs are sore from the night before. he’ll stay on that sidewalk all afternoon if it means helping his son find the courage to get back on the bike

when your daughter is born, it’s as if a new light ignites in dick’s heart, one that’s softer and warmer than anything he’s ever felt before. from the moment he holds her—tiny, delicate, and swaddled in pastel pink—he’s utterly smitten by the baby. his breath catches in his throat as her little fingers curl instinctively around one of his. it’s the smallest thing, but to him, it’s everything. he gazes at her with an awe that rivals the first time he stood under a gotham sunrise after a long patrol as robin

every little thing she does—every yawn, every sleepy coo, even the way she scrunches her nose—melts him completely. he’s the first to volunteer for late-night feedings, cradling her against his chest while whispering soft lullabies. “it’s okay, princess,” he murmurs, his voice low and soothing, as if the sound of it alone could shield her from the world

she’s the spitting image of you, but she’s got dick’s sense of curiosity and mischief. as she grows, it’s clear she’s a daddy’s girl through and through. dick spoils her with affection, often carrying her on his shoulders or letting her “style” his hair, even if it means showing up to patrol with hair ties

she’s the one who always convinces him to stay for “just one more bedtime story,” and dick can never say no to those puppy eyes. he does all the voices, acting out scenes with a dramatic flair that leaves her giggling uncontrollably

family movie nights are a regular occurrence. dick lets the kids pick the movie, even if it means sitting through the same animated film for the fifth time. he doesn’t mind—he’s just happy to have everyone snuggled up together

. . . JASON TODD !

jason never thought he’d be a dad. gotham wasn’t kind to kids, and in his darker moments, he felt like it had swallowed the boy he used to be whole. he worried his own traumas—nights spent cold and hungry on the streets, the ache of betrayal, the sting of abandonment—might cast shadows over the kind of father he’d want to be. how could he teach love and trust when his world had been built on survival and second chances?

the thought of holding a child, so small and fragile, scared him more than any villain ever could. what if he didn’t have it in him to be the kind of dad they deserved? what if his sharp edges cut too deep, or worse, he failed to protect them from the city that had failed him? jason had spent so long fighting his way through life that the idea of creating a safe, warm space for someone else felt like trying to plant flowers in a wasteland. and yet, the thought of building something good—something untouchable by gotham’s darkness—stirred a longing in him he couldn’t ignore.

when you told him you were pregnant with your first child, he was stunned silent for a solid minute. then came the slight tremble in his hands as he cradled your face and whispered, “we’re really doing this?” you swore you saw tears in his eyes, though he’d deny it later

he threw himself into preparing for fatherhood. between patrols, you’d catch him reading baby books, jotting down notes in that same serious way he planned missions. ( “what the hell is a diaper genie, baby? is it a genie for diapers, or does it genie them away?” )

when your first daughter was born, jason held her for the first time with an awe. he whispered promises to her, things like, “you’ll never go through what i did,” and “i’m gonna give you the world, princess.”

jason’s daughters own him. his rough, serious ide of personality melts into a puddle of mush when they so much as giggle at him. one pouty face, and he’s done for

when they’re little, he becomes a human jungle gym. they’ll climb all over him, pull on his hair, and stick stickers all over his face while he sits patiently, letting them “decorate” him. ( “you’re turning me into a unicorn, huh? cool. just don’t let your mom take pictures—too late? figures.” )

as they grow, he keeps a close eye on everything, from their friends to the neighborhoods they walk through. he’s not overbearing but has serious dad-radar. if they so much as mention a creepy guy or a mean teacher, he’s all, “do i need to handle this? no? you sure? okay, but say the word.”

by age eight, they’ve both mastered basic self-defense, thanks to “daddy’s fun time karate sessions.” he makes it a game—lots of laughter and encouragement—but underneath it, he’s deadly serious

when they’re older, he teaches them how to change a tire, handle their own money, and, much to your exasperation, how to throw a punch. ( “jason, they don’t need to know how to disarm a grown man at ten years old!” “baby, it’s gotham. yes, they do.” )

he’s the kind of dad who makes pancake breakfasts on weekends, complete with smiley faces and way too much syrup

on father’s day, his daughters surprise him with handmade cards every year. jason’s tough demeanor cracks every time he reads their scrawled messages: “daddy, you’re my hero.”

and jason as a father to teenage girls? lord, help us all.

when his eldest goes on her first date, he plays it cool—for all of two seconds. he grills the poor kid with subtle threats hidden behind a charming smile. ( “so, you like my daughter? good. treat her right, or you’ll have a real bad night. understand?” )

you have to remind him not to tail them when they go out. “jason, they’ll know you’re following them.” “i’ll stay a block behind. they’ll never see me.”

but despite his overprotectiveness, he’s their anchor during tough times. when they experience their first heartbreaks, he is there with hugs, ice cream, and the kind of pep talks that make them laugh through their tears. “anyone who doesn’t see how amazing you are isn’t worth crying over. you’re the todd girl. we don’t settle for less.”

deep down, jason worries about failing them. he knows what it’s like to lose everything, and the thought of his girls experiencing even a fraction of that makes his stomach churn

[orphicmusings]

Omg could you please do some or all of the NSFW alphabet for adrian tepes, i would be extremely grateful 😭😭😭 (if you’ve never heard of it look it up on tumblr and you’ll find the template)

finally got my thoughts together for this

a = aftercare

alucard is incredibly gentle with you afterward, even if you both didn’t get too wild- he is just in a sweet, lovey mood. giving you little kisses everywhere and cleaning you up, then holding you while you fall asleep.

b = body part

alucard loves your hands. he loves holding them in his, intertwining his fingers with yours, trapping them above your head while he sinks into you. he especially loves kissing them, making you fluster at such an innocent gesture while you’re doing something so filthy.

c = cum

i don’t really think he’s one for a breeding kink?? i think he would be terrified at the prospect of having kids. he would be too afraid of crashing out like his father if something happened to you and giving them no choice but to end him and live with the guilt. i did not mean for a prompt about cum to be this depressing

d = dirty secret

we all know how he looks at trevor and sypha. he would only be into if you were into it. that said he would be so into it. watching him be so rough with trevor, so submissive with sypha, and a delicious mix with you. meshing together, exploring each other, cuddling in one big pile after.

e=experience

HE GOT NONE LOL…i do think he is a relatively quick learner though, he’s a very focused and determined person and will learn what makes you tick quick.

f = favorite position

def missionary, holding your hand and looking into your eyes while he fucks you hard and fast or deep and slow, it doesn’t matter so long as he sees your face.

g = goofy

i think i could get a little silly with it, but definitely doesn’t initiate the silly mood during sex. maybe if you’re both a little tipsy, you tripped, your shirt got stuck, etc; he would just look at you and burst into uncontrollable laughter that would give him the giggles all night.

h = hair

doesn’t manscape often given the time period but definitely does…out of sheer boredom at least

i = intimacy

he values it so much, he needs to see you and hear you and feel you. for him, sex isn’t quick fun, it’s connecting, it’s intimacy. it’s literally an act of pouring all his love into you, and he’ll make sure you know that.

j = jack off

he probably has but doesn’t strike me as the type to do it often, he’s very disciplined.

k = kink

PRAISE. he loves hearing you praise him, and he loves the flustered look on your face when he praises you. definitely has a love-biting thing, loves seeing the slight indent of his fangs in your skin. i also think he has a thing for size, being such a tall ethereal being and also having at least a quarter of a predator instinct. like he probably thinks of how small you are compared to him and will short circuit, his brain crowded with the urge to protect you and ravish you in equal measure.

l = location

i do not see this guy getting nasty anywhere but the bed or the couch. he’s definitely old fashioned like that. and he wants to know you’re comfy!

m = motivation

when you run your hands through his hair and tug ever so gently, it’s over. he’s putty in your hands. especially if you praise him in the process.

n = no

i think bondage for obvious reasons, he never wants to feel that feeling again nor does he want you to, so it’s just off the table. he likes biting and playing rough with you, but he will never hurt you. even the slightest frown will get him to snap out of it and check in with you. he could not bring himself to ever hurt you on purpose.

o = oral

oh this man is a giver….like….sinking his fangs softly into your inner thigh and licking up the blood before he goes in LIKE!!! and don’t get me started on when you’re on your period, he’s practically feral, holding your hips down and drawing orgasm after orgasm out of you until you’re shaking and can’t go any longer.

p = pace

he can definitely do all, but prefers it deep and slow, he wants to savor everything. he wants to commit your pleasured, flustered, blissed out face to his immortal memory. he wants to make sure he remembers the most divine thing he has ever seen, the most divine thing he’s ever done, if he’s feeling poetic.

q = quickie

he doesn’t like them. like i said, sex is deeply intimate and loving for him and he can’t just fuck one out quickly.

r = risk

i think if you expressed wanting to do something that he wasn’t necessarily opposed to, he’d have an open mind about it and at least try it once.

s = stamina

beast. actual beast. he can control himself, though, and knows you can’t go as many rounds as he could, and he would never push you to. but if you felt like being edged? ohohohoho

t = toys

i don’t think sex toys existed back then…i could be wrong. but even in modern aus i don’t see him using them.

u = unfair

he doesn’t tease you often, but when he’s in a cheeky mood, he’s in a cheeky mood. he definitely can be withholding when he wants to be, and he knows he can stick it out longer than you. will definitely tell you to “ask nicely” and won’t obey until he hears the prettiest pleases.

v = volume

i think he’s fairly low volume, but very breathy. also talkative if he’s in the mood for it. just narrating what he’s doing, how he’s feeling, how he’s making you feel and having you affirm it could bring him to the brink faster. definitely whimpers, though, just tries his hardest to contain it.

w = wild card

reads about sex. like, all the books he can find on it. and will definitely fuck you on the sofa in the library while he asks you to read a passage out loud, whispering how well you’re doing and how good you are for him, all while chuckling as your voice shakes.

x = x ray

well we’ve seen his chest. but his dick is definitely big. not monstrous. but long. definitely a long boy

y = yearning

i think he has a fairly normal sex drive. not too high, not too low. he’s goldilocks :)

z = zzz

doesnt fall asleep until you do. he just wants to make sure you’re okay, and he loves watching how peaceful you look, wrapped up safe in his arms.

[vantedaes]

cry, cry, cry

pairing: nanami kento x f!reader tags: porn with little plot, dacryphilia (or an attempt at it at least) soft dom nanami, slight breathplay, fingering, alcohol use, body fluids mentions, unprotected sex, manhandling, slight objectivization, passing out, hair pulling, pussy spanking, slight breeding kink, reader does not talk but because of the context no because she can't. NO PROOFREAD. an: English is not my first language, there might be mistakes that would be addressed,,, someday, for now I just want this to be posted it has been sitting on my drafts like forever. Inspired by this tiktok of my lovely bbh

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT +18 ONLY!!!

!Husband Kento was not a stranger to being enraged when working overtime, however, he didn't make a habit of taking that rage home, where his lovely wife was waiting for him. Unfortunately for him, today was one of those days he couldn´t stop the bubbling wrath when returning home after insufferable overtime hours cleaning everyone´s messes.

Of course, he had sent you a text beforehand letting you know that it was for the best to allow him time to cool down before talking to him, and thankfully you've been supporting and understanding as ever telling him that he shouldn´t worry and that a glass of his favorite bourbon was already served in his study.

You knew exactly that your lovely husband had an especially rough day, you could tell by the sound of the door opening an abrasive almost like the FBI was breaking into your house, you could hear from your shared room the loud slamming of the door, so strong it made you flinch, your cat scaping your blanket running into hiding somewhere in the closet.

Closing your book you put it on your nightstand and heard how the heavy steps of your husband made their way to your home, you could listen to the rustling of his clothing and another slam of what you could guess was his suitcase, oh, he was real upset, Not long after that you hear him opening the door of his study. Standing up you got out of your shared room, you didn't want to bother him at all knowing he had to blow some steam, so you just went to the drawing room to assess the situation, with soft steps you saw how his coat was thrown under the hanger and his suitcase a few steps from the coat, open, revealing what you could only assume was red numbers and some other reports he had to deal with, you did your best to accommodate everything in its place hearing your husband going slamming things in his office.

You knew it was better to just go to sleep and wait for him to come to bed whenever he felt like it, but, you were also curious, you´d never seen him this upset, so after getting his things together you made your way silently to his study, almost on tiptoes, the door was wide open which made your little espionage easier. Only the light of his desk was on, you leaned in the doorframe like a child trying not to get busted when they know were being naughty, your breath caught into your throat when you saw him, his back to you pouring even more of the bourbon and gulping it in just one quick motion, his muscles evidently tense making him look even bigger, menacing even, his big hands gripping the glass and the movement of his throat working that burning alcohol down like it was nothing.

And dear lord, you could feel your pajama shorts getting soaked.

Your skin burned like it had caught on fire, you weren't unfamiliar with how insanely hot and attractive your husband was, but this was different, this was the first time you'd seen him, this, this enraged, his whole demeanor changing in a drastic form that you've never experimented and your eyes were glazing for just the sight, your fingers itching to help you relieve some of that tension desire building in the pit of your stomach. Your husband then sits on his chair, his strong tights expanding, and his crotch more prominent, his hair like a full mess, golden locks falling into his gorgeous face that was contorted into a hostile expression that only made you press your tights even closer to each other, you could feel yourself trembling with a raw need that was taking over every grain of your sanity.

But then in a swift motion, after struggling to take off his tie he simply opted for tearing the damn thing apart, the buttons of his shirt flying to different parts of the room, allowing his massive chest to breathe and with that sinful sight you couldn't help but gasp. Still, in reality, it was more like a pitiful whimper that was capable of getting your very angry husband´s attention to you.

The moment your eyes connected with his dark eyes you didn´t move an inch, something like fear and excitement creeping into you, like a fear of a beast that found the most helpless prey on its own lair, which was accurately what was happening.

Your husband stood up and gulped the whisky quickly, licking his lips as he addressed you.

"C´me here" His voice was raspy, like going through your whole body, it made you quiver even more, made your whole being more intoxicated.

Slowly you approached him, his eyes never leaving you for a second, and you were used to Kento´s eyes on you, his attentive and longing gaze every time he looked at you, but the way he was looking at you now was something else, like drinking the sight of you, like devouring your whole image, resembling a madman that has been starved. When you got close enough you stopped, just a few centimeters separating you, he smirked cockily his lips glazed with the bourbon, and your nostrils were filled with the scent of his cologne mixed with alcohol it roamed through your figure and you find yourself inhaling it, fueling even more the heat that was about to explode inside your body. Your husband looked amused at how you were paralyzed in front of him like you were asking permission to touch him, your own husband, it was ridiculous, and yet it was what his good girl knew had to do.

"Look at you, shamelessly spying on me when I perfectly told you to give me space" His hand gripped your chin with a strength that made you part your lips in surprise "Now that you got what you wanted...you´re all shaky, angel"

You wanted to answer sure, it wasn´t your nature to stay quiet, you were always quick with a comeback but just like in a trance, you were just mute and so fucking needy, he, your husband, was not a man who loses his calm like ever, one year of marriage and you've never seen him this deranged.

He could hardly blame you for how your body reacted, you yourself didn't know you could find him even hotter.

Quivering, you tried to speak "I—"

And without any kind of warning, he grabbed your waist with a strength that made you gasp in surprise, the sound of shattering glass stealing your attention for a quick second —he really threw his glass on the floor—, but as soon as you felt your frame pressed tightly at the body of Kento your mind went to a fucking blank again, contemplating how his normally hazel color eyes were totally pitch black. His arm was like an iron band around your waist and your hands posed on his big chest trying to hold onto something, his closeness making you quiver like a leaf and you could just read in his expression how much he liked all of your wretched reactions.

"Shh...it´s alright angel" he whispered hotly upon your lips "I already know what you want"

Before you could process any of his words he took you and bent you over his desk, your hips pressed against the edge of it and all of the stuff on top of it falling down, the bottle of whiskey spilling over the wood surface where your face was now pressed against wetting your cheek and lips, you were never a fan of whiskey —or any strong alcohol really—, but right now you welcomed it eagerly with your mouth hanging open when you felt the hot and rough hands of your husband stripping you off your pajama shorts, your cunt being met with the breeze of the room, soaked, you felt how your juices were already trailing your tights. You moaned pitifully, your hole clenching into nothing.

Nanami laughed in a vibrato that made your knees buckle, "Look at that, so fucking wet..." his fingers trailed your dampness pressing over your wet swollen lips gathering all the liquid before entering your entrance in a quick movement, you let out a high pitched moan at the sudden intermission "That´s right angel, you will take it"

He kept moving his fingers inside your cunt quickly while his other hand kept your head firmly pressed into his desk, the whisky fusing with your saliva as you kept loudly moaning, your body going into shambles quickly, Nanami was like a feral beast fucking you with his fingers letting out the hottest low grunts that were making your orgasm approach in a tidal wave in just mere seconds of his fingers inside you.

"Yes yes yes" you chanted in ecstasy, your legs fully trembling as your orgasm hit you with an intensity that would almost make you fall if it wasn't for the firm hand of your husband keeping you still on the surface of his desk, a loud moaning of his name leaving your mouth.

"made a mess of my fingers angel, so needy you came so fast" his fingers leaving your leaky entrance and trailing through your cunt greedily. you were panting with the aftermath of your orgasm, the whiskey now soaking the whole table and part of your hair "Filthy, filthy girl, looking like a used whore after just taking my fingers"

He roamed a chuckle, then you heard him sucking his fingers nastily, sounding richly across the room, and in a quick moment he slapped your pussy making you scream your already shaky legs buckling and almost falling to the floor only to be grabbed by your wrists and manhandled to your position on the table.

Another smack on your pussy made you yelp, "Come on now, don't act like this cunt doesn't like it rough" You felt him pressing against your ass, fully clothed, and yet you felt the big bulge twitching against your bare cunt, soaking his pants, it was unbearable to have his cock still on his pants when you wanted it so so so bad.

However, you could only mutter pathetic whimpers, so clouded and drunk on his cock that wasn't even inside you. "Stay put" Your husband demanded and you immediately went still, excitement filling your body as you heard him unfast his belt followed by his zipper and a delicious groan as his cock was fully out

You couldn't quite see but you knew he didn't take off his pants by the way you could feel the fabric on your tights and fuck, you could come just right there again.

"I believe you know I have no intend of going soft with you tonight," He remarked while tracing his cock on your swollen lips, his precum fusing with your juices "Oh, but look at you angel... so fucked up looking like you could die if I don't give you this cock"

"I—" A slap to your asscheek cut you off to a pathetic moan, and soon you felt the hard body of your husband pressing on your back to whisper in your ear.

"I don´t want to hear anything that is not those pathetic little moans you made" His hot breath against your neck had you shivering, with his hard cock nestled between your folds you could do nothing but behave, tears escaping your eyes betraying how much you wanted it, how much you need it, Nanami trailed your neck inhaling your scent like he needed it more than air, getting drunk on it and leaving wet open mouth kisses on your boiling hot skin. Despite the twitching of his cock against your folds he did nothing more than tease your skin with his hot breath on your most sensible zones, driving you into absolute madness, your hole clenching, hungry, and desperate.

His hands gripping your waist tightly, you were sure tomorrow it'll have a mark. "Nothing more than a slut for this cock hm?" he teased leaving your back, standing again he took your jaw turning your face to him, when you looked at his handsome face his eyes looked like a deep endless void of how black and dilated they were, not a trace of his usual hazel like eyes, he looked at you with ravenousness, his eyes darting through your face that was now covered in tears

His cock twitched at the sight of your whipping face, you started sobbing, your lips trembling in a way of begging him to fuck you.

"Oh fuck" He moaned leaving your jaw to tug on your hair and grabbing the base of his cock he finally directed his tip to your needy entrance, you moaned even more between tears feeling how the length of your husband's cock stretched you.

Fuuuuck, your husband was big and, oh, he did not intend to go soft with you, remember? So you should have expected when his full-length slammed into your cunt in a strong thrust, making you cry loud, your hands grabbing the edge of the table, you could feel his cock molding your insides, his veins popping through your walls and if you were already not intoxicated you surely were now.

Nanami moaned feeling your pussy tightening around him like you want to cut him off, he pulled your hair into his fist harder and looking straight at your eyes he hissed, "Put your fucking hands were they where"

Looking at him with big tearful eyes you clasped your hands together behind your back, your whole stability now depending on how your husband had your hair pulled into his fist. "Such an obedient girl... Now keep sobbing like a dumb slut while I feed you this cock"

And with that, you could only hiccup pathetically, Nanami's thrusts were erratic and fast, kissing every bit of your insides, he looked at you with a deranged look, enjoying how you were drooling and crying while taking his cock so harshly, he fucking loved it, having you go all fucking stupid on his big cock and have you reduced to a needy little thing.

"Yes, fuck—that's right, so fucking tight around me" his sloppy thrust was making you dizzy on how deep he was reaching into you, your orgasm already in the making ready to burst with the warning of being even bigger than the last one and your husband knew it completely, that smirk of his adorning his lips, with that your second orgasm erupt shaking your whole body, your husband groaned pulling on your hair harder making you stare at him while you creamed his cock and your eyes rolled, tears trailing down your face to your throat disappearing on your breasts, your husband's depraved eyes look at it and soon you had him turning you around without leaving your sloppy hole to now have you laying down the desk in a more comfortably position

A position that allowed you to look upon your very disheveled husband, through your teary and hazy eyes you could see and drink at the sight of Nanami just fucking into you like a mad man, like a fucking wild animal, his hands now gripping your jaw playing with it like you were a useless doll, his fingers entering your hot mouth pressing on your tongue while he kept pounding that fat cock into you, you whimper so cockdrunk you were about to pass out feeling his hard cock kiss your cervix every time, he was ruthless in the way he was fucking you and you were obsessed with it.

"Fuck, I'm going to fill you up so fucking good" he left your jaw and slapped your tits before rubbing your clit in a maniac rhythm that pull you out of your drowsy state and soon you were filling up another orgasm approaching, "come for me sweetheart, I know you can, fuck—do it"

His thrusts were, even more, sloppier, erratic, and quick you felt like you were about to explode, it was way too much, you were pushing the limits of your oversensitive body, but oh, how you loved it especially when you felt his hard cock stiffen even more inside you and warm cum filling your insides and soon you were cumming a third time, this time even more intense than the previous ones and your whole body shudder at the immense pleasure and the fullness of the cum inside you, your husband moans in the background of your nirvana, it was as you where losing your hold on reality and soon everything went blank.

!Husband Kento was heavily panting rolling off the immense orgasm he had, only to find his lovely wife passed out on his desk, and even though his first response was to get worried that he indeed had been too rough with you, but, the happiness on your —very fucked up— face told him everything he needed to know.

Taking his dick out of you he put himself together and took your limp body in his arms to carry you into the bathroom, somewhere along the way you regained consciousness, your pretty confused eyes looked at him and soon your cheeks turned red "Hello beautiful, I'm going to take care of you now"

Simply he assured you with a smile and a kiss to your damped forehead, you smelled like sweat and whiskey.

"..." You looked like you wanted to speak and Nanami could only chuckle affectionately at your uncertainty.

"You can speak now angel"

[everyonewooeverywhere]

X-RATED X-MAS DAY 1: TATTOO ARTIST SEONGHWA

christmas masterlist 🖤

pairing: tattoo artist!seonghwa x female!reader

rating: 18+

content/warnings: pet names (baby, pretty girl), oral sex (m rec.)

notes: this is just day 1! so if you have any requests or ✨thoughts✨ my inbox is open

NSFW 18+ | MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

His face always lights up when he sees you book with him. Has a special notification just for it, and he always gets so excited seeing that “Baby 💋” booked his late-night slot. You were always intentional about that, weren’t you? Making sure to make your appointments well into the night. Usually long after everyone else would be gone. He’d be lying if he said he didn’t make those appointments just for you. After all, he could always focus better when it was just him alone with his favorite client. 

Makes himself sick with anticipation just wondering what you’re gonna get this time. There are so many places he hasn’t done yet. Your spine, your sternum, and even your collarbone still lay untouched by his art. And he’s just been begging for the day that he finally gets there. Just thinking about it makes him hard. And you haven’t even walked in the door yet. But simply imagining the way his ink lays out on your skin is so fucking enthralling to him. His baby. His favorite canvas.

Everyone is practically gone by the time you usually come in. And he’s only aware of your presence because of the bell above the door that dings when it swings open. That coupled with the clack of your heals on the tile floor and the way you call his name. “Hwa? You here?” And you continue to his station when he calls to you “Over here, baby.” He fails to hide the way he eyes you up and down as you walk over to him. Smiling when you greet him with a hug, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting his hands fall to your waist.

And he always asks, “What are we doing today, pretty girl?” You start playing with the ends of his hair. He knows what thet means straight away. You frown a bit, letting your lip jut out at him, “I wanted to get my tailbone done. I don’t really know what though…but you always know how to make me look pretty.” He smirks at you, “Thank you, baby. I’ll draw up something really pretty for ya. Now what was our budget for today?” It’s a leading question. You both know it. And you just look up at him with big eyes, lip pulled between your teeth. He never should have asked. It’s not like he was gonna make you pay anyway. Not with money at least.

You always look so painfully pretty in his chair, too. And back tattoos are his favorite. Gives him such a perfect view of your ass. Which you playfully wiggle for him from time to time. Just for him to smack your thigh and tell you to “Sit still, baby” before going back to his work. But he’s always shamelessly hard when he’s tattooing you. Especially when you whine at something hurting. Or when you just talk to him in that sweet voice of yours. The one you use when you want something.

And you do want something. Not just the free tattoo. And Seonghwa always pretends he’s not gonna fuck you. Telling you he has to “be professional” and warning that sex with a very fresh tattoo is a horrible idea. But when he finishes your little tramp stamp and the first thing you do is drop to your knees in front of his mirror? He has no other choice. His fingers are tangled in your hair as you bob your head on his cock. Always taking him so well. Your hands, which are adored with his work, gripping his thighs for dear life. And he can act surprised all he wants, but in the end you’re always just his pretty girl on your knees for a pretty tattoo.

general taglist: 

@swimmingkpopblog @oddracha @drinkingrumandcocacola @minaateez @funnyvxlentine 

@sunnysidesins @skzdust @princelingperfect @seomisaho @bigboymoozz

@fireseo @atzlordz

ateez taglist: 

@certifiedmoa @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @curiousgworge @hyukssunflower @hotteokisms 

@sushiinmidnight @atiny-dime-p1ece @mismatchfluffysocks @vic0921 @vampzity 

@breadpuddingboys @woolysium @desirehorizon @im-ovulation @pommelex 

@dancingwithdeities @maidens-world @jycas @kirbrary @aftertherain-atr 

@staytinyinmybpack @m4n4-s4m4 @jjcanwrite @yvnhoos @uninterested-ghost 

@yizhou-time @shinyj3lly @kyeos4ng @prettygirlslietoo @miriamxsworld 

@tiny2018 @ttdogsworld @kejingken @fandom-freak-geek @minkioswoo 

@bkimrose @strawbshrtcks @dwcljh @linearities @tiredlittlevirgo

@kwoncheesecake

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Idia Shroud: The Daily Grind

Oooh, his limited-edition shirt (from a live performance, implying he actually may have attended a concert in-person??) has the Fates on it! Idia also talks about getting birthday messages from his mobile games… True Gamer rep... though I cannot forgive him using an all-in-one cream for his face don’t let Vil hear—

THAT GROOVY IS TAINTED 😭 The less I say about it, the better…

Rise and Shine!

Idia Shroud lived by numbers. Measurements, code, games. They were dependable things, easily controlled and predictable, unlike the fleshy meat sacks called humans. The most improbable creatures of all.

The luck of the draw had been unkind to him this year. A test ("In person attendance is required, Shroud," Trein had told him sternly), on his birthday! If a higher being existed out there, Idia was certain he was their least favorite child.

Touching grass? Tch, so annoying.

Idia drew out a ragged groan and rolled his neck, which still ached from having slept upright in his gaming chair. Clasped in his hands was a rectangle, its screen glowing as one of his many mobile games booted up. He had a list to run through, missions to complete--all a part of his routine.

Another day. Better do my dailies before heading out.

He sighed.

A familiar home screen unfolded before his eyes. It was a lounge, newly refurbished and dipped in a neon glow. Balloons clouded the ceiling, banners and streamers were strung up, confetti dusting the floors. Jewel-colored flowers in crystal vases and sumptuous dishes crowded the avaliable space on tables. On special occasions, the background was automatically decorated in honor of the holidays.

A grinning anime girl faded in. She was dressed in a fluffy cloak and hat, keeping her cozy for the winter season. This particular version of her was a SSR he had dumped money into to max out (no expense spared for the best girl).

"Happy birthday, Gloomurai!" she chirped, parroting the same phrase that she did to all players once a year. "Geez, did you sleep in again? Wakey, wakey! How are you going to enjoy your birthday if you're only half-awake for all of it? ... Wh-What? You're wondering if I prepared anything for you? Don't be stupid. I-It's not like... I... like you or anything..."

"Hihihihi... Aaaah, the way she runs hot and cold is so cute, just the best! This is peak content!" Idia chuckled to himself. Here, in the comfort of his private quarters.

Beep, beep, beep!

Idia yelped and leapt up in his seat, nearly dropped his phone. He squinted at the blinking envelope icon that had overtaken the screen.

"... What? A new message?"

Who's it from? I-I don't talk to any of my classmates enough for them to contact me out of the blue like this... C-Could it be Riddle-shi shouting at me to attend the next dorm leader meeting?

Idia cautiously opened the message. He winced as he braced himself for the redhead's shouting (all caps) from the other end.

A cheerful jingled played, followed by pixelated fireworks popping off. Ortho exploded forth from the envelope with a giggle, the words HAPPY BIRTHDAY blinking on either side of him. The video message began to roll.

"Gooood morning, nii-san!" his little brother cried. "Did you get a good night's sleep? I hope so, because you'll need all that energy for your exam--and your birthday party afterwards!"

"B-Birthday party? When did I agree to attend that...?" Idia mumbled, running a hand through his fiery hair.

The prerecorded Ortho continued. "But I know you. You're probably thinking, 'Birthday party? When did I agree to attend that...?' ... Right?"

H-He got me nailed word for word!!

"We can't have you shut away in your bedroom as soon as you're done with that test! So to make sure you don't try and squirm out of socializing, I've recruited a guest character for an escort mission to your class and then to the birthday party afterwards. They'll be by to pick you up at 7:30 am. See you then, nii-san!"

Ortho waved farewell before he blipped out of existence. Idia sprung out of his gaming chair, slick with sweat from a freshly sprung, anxiety-induced leak. He stared at his phone in disbelief, his eyes wide and bugged out.

"D-Did I... Did I hear that message right?! S-Someone's coming to escort me to class?! But the time right now is…!!”

Knock, knock, knock!

“E-Eeeep!!”

This time, he did drop his phone. Its fall was cushioned by the mountain of cardboard boxes, opened chip bags, and volumes of manga loitering on the floor. The impact restarted the video message: “Gooood morning, nii-san! Did you have a good night’s sleep?”

“Idia-senpai?” a voice called out, joining Ortho’s. Your voice. “Are you there? I’m here to grab you for class.”

Th-Them?! He turned paler than Death, even as his cheeks and the tips of his hair burned bright pink. Why… wh-why did Ortho have to choose THEM for this?!

“H-Hold on a minute!” Idia called out.

He crumpled to his knees and gathered as much of his junk as he could, shoveling it into convenient hiding places to create the illusion of tidiness. His closet, under his bed, empty boxes and bookshelf space.

“How much longer?” you asked worriedly from the other side of the door. “You might be late at this rate—and you know how Professor Trein can be about tardiness.”

“A-Almost…!!”

Idia grabbed his phone and got back up, glancing at himself in the reflection of his monitor. His bangs had gone awry, covering one eye in cobalt bangs. He hurriedly brushed them away, trying to get his hair to behave as best he could, then attempted to straighten out the creases in his pajamas.

Screw the school uniform. There was no time left to make himself any more presentable than this. He’d have to deal with the disapproving shake of his teacher’s head when he slumped in. If was preferable to keeping you waiting.

His temperature spiked again. Pink became red. He waved frantic hands at his hair, urging them to cool off back to blue.

Calm down. C-Calm down, you’ve got this!! You’ve played so many dating sims, summon that main character charm!

But in real life, there were no clearly defined routes to head on. No dialogue options to choose or love flags to trip. No resets, should he fail miserably. He was left on his own to fumble through social interactions—and their consequences.

He shambled over to his door and, swallowing hard, cracked it open. A sliver of light poured in from the outside, along with your smiling face. He was a monster crammed into a gap, and you were his savior.

“There you are!”

Idia tried to picture a brazen male lead. The sort of guy that leaned against doorframes with a cocky smirk and casually went, “Hey, you.”

Nope, nope, nope!!! WAY too cringe! I-I can’t say that like I'm a confident alpha dudebro…! I can’t…!!

Idia froze, his mind defaulting to a 404 error. Even his heart seemed to stop, seized by clawing panic.

“H-Hey,” he said meekly.

"Happy birthday, Idia-senpai.” You blinked, slowly taking him in. "Did you sleep in again?"

E-Eh…? What is this weird sense of deja vu? They sound almost exactly like the birthday login lines from earlier... e-except it's a real person this time, not a fictional character...

The pace of his heartbeat quickened.

S-Something’s wrong with me. Th-This reaction’s definitely not normal!!

He flushed again, fervid as a flame. Short circuiting, overheating.

“Er… Idia-senpai? Are you feeling okay? Your hair, it’s going haywire, shifting colors like a lava lamp,” you vaguely gestured. “And you’re still in your pajamas. You hardly look ready to leave your room."

“I-I’m fine!” he squeaked. “I wasn’t expecting a guest, s-so… I didn’t prepare to receive… any... one…” Idia trailed off.

"Hehe. How are you going to enjoy your birthday if you're only half-awake for all of it?" You extended a hand to him. "Come on, it’s time to wake up.”

Just like the greeting from the mobile game.

Idia shyly ducked behind his door, hiding his burning face.

Is this a dream? If it is, I don't know if I want to wake up from it.

[coffee-and-geto]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re reading Twilight?”

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

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

Is such supernatural beauty even allowed?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~

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

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

“Nice day, isn’t it?”

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

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

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

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

“I hate it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wait, what just happened?

~~~~

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

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

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

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

What perfect weather to study.

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

And potentially liking what you read.

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

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

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

Too bad…

~~~~

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

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

But that doesn’t seem to be enough.

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

He must be mad at you.

Well, so be it.

That’s what you tell yourself.

What you keep telling yourself.

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

Too bad...

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

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

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

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

Your name right there, alongside his — Suguru Geto.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then you both burst out laughing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“...What?”

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

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

“Are you okay?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~

“It’s actually pretty convenient.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You didn’t choose a drink.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Suguru…” you sigh.

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

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

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

“What?” you ask, mouth still full.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

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

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

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

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

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

“Or else what?”

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

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

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

“Gentlemen, shall we continue this conversation outside?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And a strange, unpleasant feeling washes over you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You didn’t fall.

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

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

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

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

Made of stone.

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

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

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

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

So you believed him.

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

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

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

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

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

“Well, I do, so are you coming?”

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

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

The sight takes your breath away.

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

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

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

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

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

~~~~

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

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

“But it’s the best,” Satoru counters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Goddamn it.

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

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

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

Relief?

… it points at Suguru.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Pretend?”

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

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

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

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

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

“S-Suguru…”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Your face has never been so warm in your life.

~~~~

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

Oh Lord.

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

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

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

How he could protect you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It may sound crazy, but you need him.

You have to check.

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

…nothing.

Now that’s a bit disappointing.

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

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

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

“Not even water?”

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

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

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

“What? No, I’m not panicking, I—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A silence follows.

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

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

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

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

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

Your complexion turns pale.

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

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

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

“You would drink blood… right?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You pout. “I want you.”

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes,” you whisper.

~~~~

“Ah— you’re teasing, Sugu—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Sugu,” you whine.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Right.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Whenever you want, my love.”

~~~~

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The same one from your favorite book.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“E-Excuse me?”

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

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

next → curse hunter! toji !!

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

@ssetsuka @monokaix

[xxsabitoxx]

Gojo Satoru NSFW A-Z

Part of my 20k follower celebration (past due)

Warnings: if it isn’t abundantly clear, this is smut :)

A/N: in honor of hitting 20k followers a while back, I’m going to be posting 10 NSFW alphabets for JJK men — scheduled post 4 :)

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Satoru is a mix between affectionate and exhausted. He’ll shower you in kisses and soft praises while yawning, wrapping an arm around your waist and pulling you flush against him. He’ll mumble something about cleaning up after a nap, even if you’re squirming because you’re sticky he’ll assure you that after his nap, he’ll clean you up. 

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Satoru loves your thighs. He honestly loves every part of you but something about your thighs just draws him in. He loves to lay on them, squeeze them, hold them, feel the straddling his face… they’re just so soft. He can’t get enough. 

Satoru is pretty proud of his hands. He enjoys the way you compliment them, the way they feel slotted in your own. He loves the way they make you squirm and whine, he loves it. 

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Satoru can be a bit of a pervert, he has a fascination with cum. He’s very partial to coming inside of you or at least on your sex. Something about the sight of his pearly cum covering you or leaking out of your entrance drives him absolutely insane. Satoru is also rather fascinated by his cum staining your underwear, especially after a quickie. He’ll see his own release dripping out of you and hike your underwear back up before you can clean yourself. 

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Satoru is a panty sniffer and he tries to be sneaky about it. He’ll find your used underwear in the hamper and use them to get off, sniffing them while tugging his cock or using them to aid jerking off. What he doesn’t realize is you purposely leave your underwear around for him to “find”. 

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

Satoru has a good amount of experience, enough to know what he is doing. But he can also argue that his consumption of porn videos and raunchy hentai aided his abilities. He’s a hands-on learner so it’s not surprising that he got a hang of things pretty quick. 

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Satoru enjoys just about anything but he likes positions where he can be really – and I mean almost suffocatingly – close to you. Mating press, missionary, spooning, cock-warming, etc. Anything where he can fucking squeeze you and keep you from getting away. 

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Satoru is fairly serious but that doesn’t mean he won’t make sly comments or even joke with you a bit. He adjusts his own “humor” to what you like. He wants you to be comfortable so if you seem to relax more when he jokes around and talks to you a lot while fucking, he’ll do it. But he’s also capable of keeping the talking to a minimum, letting his body do the work while praising you endlessly. Though if one of you fumbles around a bit, he will not hesitate to chuckle. He thinks its really cute so don’t take offense. 

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Satoru’s hair down there matches the hair on his head, he rather likes that so it’s very rare that he’ll shave or wax it bald. Though, again, if you request him to, he’ll do it. Satoru maintains himself very well, cleaning himself every day and trimming every 1-2 weeks. 

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Satoru can be disgustingly romantic when fucking you, especially when he’d close to coming. He tends to blabber a bit, telling you how perfect you are, how much he adores you and needs you, that he loves you. He means every word of it too. He’s always down for less serious, playful sex, but he’ll still make sure to let you know how much you mean to him.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

1-3 times a week depending on his schedule and how long he’s away from you. He’s not shy about it, taking time out of his busy day to get off when he absolutely needs to. He claims it clears his head, sometimes he really can’t focus if he’s too worked up. 

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Satoru really enjoys praising (both giving and receiving). Truthfully, he’s really into bondage and shibari but he can get shy about it. He just likes the idea of restraining and being restrained. He supposes it can count as a kink, but he really likes fucking you while you wear his blindfold or eye wraps. He finds it hot, especially since you can’t see what's coming next. 

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Satoru knows himself and his body well enough to know he will knock out after sex 9/10 times. His favorite places to fuck you are all within your own home… and within range of your bed. He loves to fuck you on a bed of course, but he also enjoys just about any surface of your home. He even made it a little game once you moved in together, keeping mental notes of what rooms he had fucked you in and what rooms he still needed to. 

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

He feels a bit basic for this, but cute clothing and cute lingerie really does it for him. He enjoys when you dress up, maybe wear something sexier, but he’s very drawn to the pastels and laces on the various lingerie you like to buy. Sometimes it’s just as easy as batting your eyelashes for him and Satoru will find his cock twitching to life. 

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

He will NEVER force you to do anything, but he is also willing to try just about anything you desire. Satoru draws the line at slapping and intentionally hurting. Even if you beg him to hit you, the most he’ll offer is a spank on your ass or chest but he’ll never slap your face. 

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Satoru is addicted to you going down on him. This man lives for blow jobs and he is not ashamed to admit that. He also adores going down on you, considering himself very skilled in that aspect. But fuck does he love it when you suck him off. 

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

It depends on the mood and your preferences. Satoru will tailor your sex excursions to fit your needs perfectly while still taking himself into consideration. Naturally, Satoru falls into the rough category with his hips moving quicker than he can handle sometimes.  

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Satoru is down for a quickie so long as you promise him caffeine or sweets after. I’m serious when I say this man will pass the fuck out after he blows his load. He prefers taking his time, not having to worry about being late for an event or being walked in on. Though he never really cared in the first place, people can wait on him. 

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Satoru will try anything at least once. He’s not shy with experimenting and isn’t afraid of risks. He understands that bodily functions can and will occur while trying different things (such as anal or pegging for example) and he understands things can… go down. But he’s fine with that. 

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Penetration wise, Satoru is a one and done kind of guy but he can push two or three if he’s really worked up (both hormone wise and adrenaline wise). When inside of you, Satoru can last between 5-8 minutes. But he makes sure to get you off as many times as you desire before getting himself off and calling it a night. 

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Satoru has no shame in using toys, both on himself and on you. He thinks they’re fun, and he finds no competition with them. Rather he uses them to enhance the experience instead of letting it do all the work. He’s very partial to the “magic wand” vibrator he bought for the two of you to use. Going as far as to buy a backup for when the original stops working. 

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Satoru can and will tease you until you are sobbing but he makes up for it by making you come as many times as you can handle. He’ll never leave you hanging, even as a punishment. He’d rather overstimulate you than leave you with nothing because he knows how frustrating that can feel… and he just wouldn’t feel right about it. 

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

This man does nothing to keep his voice down or his volume to a minimum. He is moaning, cursing, whining, whimpering, begging, he has no shame in any of the noises he makes for you. 

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Satoru has toyed with the idea of a threesome but would give you full reigns on who the addition would be. He doesn’t mind if it’s a man or a woman, he’s not picky. But the more he toys with the idea the more he realizes how possessive he is over you and can’t bring himself to approach the topic with you. He’s not self conscious, he just… he thinks nobody can satisfy you like he does so why waste their time for a mediocre experience.  

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

When soft he’s about 5 ½ inches (14cm). When it's hard, he’s just shy of 7 inches (around 18cm). He’s girthy, enough to need preparation before entering you but nothing too painful. He’s pretty straight, a slight curve to the right but it’s not very noticeable. He’s pale, a flushed pink tip with veins running along his shaft. He’s very pleased with his dick. 

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Very high but he can control it well. Satoru can get a bit cranky if he doesn’t have sex at the very least four times a week. Even then he considers that to be too little. But with a busy schedule he’s not always home so it can’t always work out in his favor. 

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Literally within thirty seconds. He’ll keep himself up for as long as it takes to get you comfortable and settled in his arms and even then he’s out within two minutes. 

[nxtaliaistyping]

Oh god, being a maid employed at the Addams family mansion.

Authors note: I love posting the most shameless, self indulgent shit.

18+ smut, bisexual fem reader, threesomes, switch vibes all around

Going feral, you're a young woman who goes for the maid position, being part time means you can still study at college while earning some extra cash. The vibe of the family doesn't put you off, in fact it actually draws you in, which captures the attention of the lord and lady of the house.

Both of them are so in love, always having their hands on each-other as you're interviewed, as they explain to you how they aren't exactly a normal family. And both of them don't miss the way the other's eyes will trace to the image of your thighs peaking out from under your skirt.

After you leave, they can't help but fuck right there on the table, whispering promises to seduce you, to have you under them soon enough.

It starts with your uniform, which you suppose does fit with the old fashioned vibe of the family, however the traditional maid outfit is quite...short. So short in fact that when you bend over to dust, your panties nearly gave poor Uncle Fester a fright as he came in.

Sneaking glances at you as you clean, no matter what you do you have both Morticia and Gomez’s attention. Their eyes are trained on you as you clean their house and cook meals for their children.

“She’s so flawless, so sweet and innocent.”

“Oh Gomez, isn’t she just?”

You could cut the sexual tension with a knife whenever it was just you and them, usually they’d schedule you to be in whenever the rest of the family was out. And the whole time they’d take any excuse to be near you, to gently touch your arm while you speak, to brush your hair out of your eyes as they praise you for the good work you do, how happy they are to have such a devoted maid.

Any of you could crumble first (my money is on Gomez), but when that happens, there’s no stopping the couple from showing you all the earthly pleasures they can. And my god they're a kinky couple.

Their favorite thing to do is to have you in the middle of them both, greedy hands running over every inch of your skin. One of their hands always ends up between your thighs, circling your clit while your other partner's hand would be groping your tits, pinching at your sensitive nipples to make you cry out and whimper for them.

All the while they'll compliment you heavily, praising every inch of you.

"Such a good girl for us, and a gorgeous one too."

"oh tesoro, she's right. You're gorgeous, and all ours."

Or they'd take it in turns. One night, Gomez has you and his wife on your knees for him, kissing eachother over his cock before he fucks you both. Another night, Morticia has you both bound as she tortures you two so deliciously that by the end, you and Gomez are slurring your words. And one glorious night they hand the reigns completely to you, allowing you to be in control.

After a while, the three of you would settle into a routine. You'd come and clean and do their laundry, and in return they'd make you cum at least three times. Most likely they'll up your pay too, telling you how such a gorgeous hardworking girl shouldn't have to worry about finances.

Reaching up to grab something, only to feel Morticia's hands grope under your dress. Bending over slightly and feeling Gomez's bulge pressed firmly against your ass.

Just being their little pet, so eager to serve them in every way <3

[moonstruckme]

Oh! Oh! I’m not the anon who asked about Jily x reader but your response made something spark in my brain. So picture a super cosy, soft scene where one of them comes home from a long and draining day of work to one of their loves in the kitchen baking, and then the third comes home with dinner and it’s all just soft and domestic. My heart! I think I can see the Jily x reader appeal

Thank you for requesting lovely! I feel like I'm still getting my sea legs under me with them but so far I'm really enjoying writing for them :)

poly!Jily x fem!reader ♡ 1k words

The front door opens, and you say “Hi,” with a question in your voice, unsure who’s made it home first. 

The answer comes in the quiet scrape of a chair being pulled out. Only one of your partners is given to actually sitting down to take their shoes off, rather than toeing them off and being shocked when the backs get scuffed. “Hi, love,” Lily replies. 

“Hi,” you say again, warmer now. “Hey, could you help me with something when you’re done?” 

“Yeah, with what?” 

“My hair won’t stop getting in my face.” You blow a strand away from your eye. It comes right back. “And my hands have dough on them.”

“Just a second.” You hear the chair being pushed back under your table, the quiet padding of socked feet as your girlfriend comes up behind you. As usual, she’s come prepared, a hair tie already on her wrist. Gentle fingers sweep strands away from your face and draw it all back into a loose ponytail. Lily presses a kiss to your nape once she’s done. 

“Thank you,” you say, and she hums, settling her arms around your waist. “How was your day?” 

Lily sighs and rests her chin on your shoulder. “Long.” 

“Oh, I’m sorry, lovely. Anything in particular?” 

“Not really. Just one thing after another, you know.” She toys with the loose knit of your sweater, sticking her finger through a hole. “I’m happy to be home.” 

The fondness that bleeds through you feels warm and sticky. “I’m happy you’re home, too,” you say with a smile.

You feel her lips curve in kind as she kisses your shoulder. “What’re you making?” 

“Cinnamon roll cookies. They’re more complicated than I thought, but I figure even if I mess them up they’ll at least smell nice when they’re baking.” 

“Good thinking. You won’t mess them up, though.” 

You both hear a key being fitted into the lock outside, and Lily calls out, “It’s open!”

“What?” The voice is muffled through the door. The key retracts, the handle twists. “Why is it open?” James asks as he comes inside. “I could be a murderer.” 

“Because I knew you’d be right on my tail,” says Lily, at the same time as you say, “What makes you think someone would want to murder us?” 

“Well, I’d rather you not find out,” James replies. He toes off his shoes and sets a large paper bag on the table. “Especially when I’m not home.” 

“Oh, because surely we need a man to protect us? We could do just as well in a fight whether you were here or not.” 

Looking at your tall, muscled boyfriend, you have to admit privately that this may be factually untrue. By the look Lily gives you as she goes to give him a kiss, she also disagrees with your argument even if she respects it. 

“Let’s just keep the door locked and that way none of us ever have to fight,” James says as she steps into his arms. He smiles. “Hi.” 

“Hi.” Lily pecks him on the lips. “What’s in the bag?” 

“Dinner. I know I was meant to cook tonight, but I decided on the way home to pick up instead.” 

“Oh no,” you say mournfully. “Did you have a bad day, too?” 

“No.” James looks at you, confused. “Who had a bad day?” 

“Lily did.” 

“It wasn’t bad, it was just draining,” your girlfriend qualifies, though this doesn’t stop James from cooing and folding her into a hug. “I’m really fine.” Her voice is muffled against his chest. 

“I must’ve had a sixth sense, then.” James kisses her hair. “I got your favorite.” 

“No, did you really?” You can hear Lily perk up. She doesn’t completely remove herself from his embrace but frees one arm and cranes her neck to look inside the bag. “Thank you, love.” 

“Don’t thank me, thank my telepathy,” he says, letting her go so she can start grabbing forks and napkins for you all to eat with. 

James makes his way over to you, leaning against the counter so he can see your face while you work. The sleeves of his shirt are rolled up to his elbows, his hair fluffy like he’s been running his fingers through it or he rolled down the window on the drive home.

“And how was your day?” he asks you. 

“My day was good.” You grin at him. He returns it with twice the enthusiasm. “I finished my book, and I found this recipe for cinnamon roll cookies.” 

James’ gaze doesn’t dip to where you’re folding the cinnamon mixture into your dough. He nods as he keeps looking at your face, eyes warm. He’s still smiling. 

“What?” 

“Did you know you have a little bit of flour on your cheek?” 

“Oh, why’d you ruin it?” Lily asks, bustling through the kitchen to get you water for dinner. “I wasn’t going to tell her.” 

“What?” You look over your shoulder in betrayal. “Is it a lot? Why wouldn’t you tell me?” 

Lily turns off the tap, giving you a sheepish smile and a lift of her shoulders as she passes by you again. “It’s cute.” 

“It’s very cute,” James agrees. “Want me to get it for you?” 

“Yes.” You roll your eyes at your girlfriend. “Please.” 

James uses his thumb to brush off your cheek, holding your face in his hand while he does. His smile is still firmly in place, soft around the edges with a sweet fondness. He keeps rubbing until you’re sure the flour has to be long gone, until warmth kisses your cheeks and it’s just touching.

“Love you,” you say softly. 

James’ cheeks dimple. “Love you, sweetheart.” 

“Will you turn the tap on for me?” 

He does, and you wash your hands in the sink, leaving the rest of the baking for after dinner. 

“Oh, good.” Lily comes back into the kitchen. “Are you ready to eat? I’m worried it’s going to get cold.” 

“We’re ready,” James answers for you. “Just washing up.” 

“Jamie.” Lily smiles at you as you step away from the sink to let him have his turn. “You didn’t get it all.” 

“I got distracted,” says James. “Anyway, I thought you liked it there.” 

She beckons you closer. “I do, but if you’re going to get it, you may as well finish the job.” She brushes a fingertip over your cheek, pretty eyes crinkling. “There. Perfect.” 

“She’s always perfect.” James dries his hands on a towel. He kisses you when you smile bashfully. 

“The food’s getting cold,” you remind them. 

“Excuses, excuses.” 

[frenchkisstheabyss]

♰ ₥ØĐɆⱤ₦ ĐɆ₥Ø₦₴ ♰

♰ Pairing: slasher!yunho x chubby!fem!slasher fucker!reader

♰ Genre: smut/dark romance/horror

♰ Summary: With a ruthless, brutal killer on the loose the safe thing to do would be to stay as far away from dangerous men as possible. But you've never been the kind of girl to play it safe and when danger comes in the form of a man like Yunho, how's a girl to stay away?

♰ Word Count: 3.4k-ish

♰ Warnings: Yunho's a literal serial killer, neither of you die but someone does, sorta vivid description of a limb being chopped off, voyeruism in a way, slasher fetish, sadism, masochism, dom daddy Yunho, choking, restriction of movement, a lil nipple play, penetrative sex, sex covered in blood, dirty talk, scratching, hickeys, other forms of marking, creampie, manhandling, pet names (baby, princess, good girl), you're both kinda psychos...obviously.

♰ A/N: I'd like to say, "Oh, I wrote this because Halloween is coming up!" but, no, I didn't. I'm just a slasher fucker, okay? A part of this was inspired by one of my favorite horror movies and if you can guess it then let's get married. Love you forever.

On a side note, thank you @dawn-iscozy for suggesting Yunho for this. I didn't regret that decision for a solitary minute.

There’s a killer on the loose. A brutal, wicked man who stalks the night preying upon unsuspecting victims. Some say he only goes after those he perceives as having done something wrong. His own perverse way of balancing the scales, righting the wrongs that the cops don’t have the balls to fix.

Others say it doesn’t matter who you are or what you do. Your chances of being butchered are all the same, sinner or saint. One thing’s for sure, once he has his sights set on you not even god himself can save you from the fate that awaits. You’re gone in the blink of an eye, never to be seen again. At least not in one piece. 

You’ve heard the warnings a thousand times over but none of them struck fear into your heart. On the contrary, you have quite the erotic fascination with his art as he calls it in the letters he leaves behind. There’s something about what he does that taps into a fetish for danger that you dare not tell another living soul about. You want to play with fire, scorch the tips of your fingers in his flames. That’s how you ended up here, straddling the lap of a man who claims to be the killer your sick little heart yearns for. 

You met at a club. The kind where people go to indulge their wildest fantasies, no matter how depraved. You were wandering around alone in a tight latex mini dress that fit the richness of your curves like a glove. You had your hair pinned up the way you do now, waterfalls of curls spilling down to frame your face. Expertly applied black lipstick adorned your kissable lips, drawing men in enough that they’d lose their minds thinking of all the things that pretty mouth could do. The man beneath you was among them. 

He spotted you from across the room, your figure bathed in red neon light as you sat at the bar plotting your next move. You let him buy you a few drinks, loosening you both up enough that secrets began to spill as freely as the vodka in your glass. “I wanna know if I tell you a secret, will you keep it?” the dark haired man whispered in your ear, a hand hovering dangerously close to your inner thigh. You swore that you would, hand over your heart. And that’s when he confessed. Your clear fascination with the man known as the Seoul Slasher had prompted him to reveal himself to you. 

You couldn’t believe it. A real live serial killer, an absolute monster, so hypnotized by you he was nearly drooling down your cleavage. Going against every self preservation tactic they taught you in school, you invited him back to your place for a bit of fun. An offer he excitedly accepted. For a man whose entire modus operandi is control, he was more than happy to relinquish it to you. In no time you had him spread out on your bed, arms and legs handcuffed to the bed frame. 

The entire room’s dark save for the flickering wicks of a few candles sprinkled about the room. You run a hand down his bare chest, sharp nails nicking at his tattooed flesh. He hisses at the sting, grinding his hips up against your core to add some pleasure to the pain.

You let out a giggle, fingers teasing the waist of his pants, “Tell me how you did it.” You flash your doe eyes, tightening your plush thighs around his hips. 

“How’d I do what?” he asks, far too preoccupied with your body to hone in on your words. 

“Those last two guys you killed. I wanna know every gory detail. You can tell me while I ride your cock.”

Your words certainly aren’t falling on deaf ears. He heard you loud and clear. He takes a calculated pause before providing you with a less than satisfying answer. “I used a butcher knife. Chopped them up real easy. Some of my best work I’d say.”

“Oh” you pout, shoulders dropping. You fold your arms across your chest, your disappointment hanging heavy in the air. “You really shouldn’t lie, you know? It’s a nasty habit.”

“Lie?” he scoffs, a nervous smile creeping across his face. His deception has failed and he doesn’t have enough brain cells to save this sinking ship. “I’m not lying, babe. I’m telling you. I used a butcher knife.”

You point an accusatory finger at him, applying pressure right between his eyes. “Dirty, dirty, liar” you sing, “You aren’t the Seoul Slasher.”

“And how would you know?” he asks, unjustly offended at the fact that you aren’t stupid enough to buy his bullshit. 

You lean in close, the warm flames of the candles reflecting in your eyes like hellfire. “Because I’m already fucking him and he’s not too happy about you going around pretending to be him. It’s just bad manners.” 

His smile grows more strained, his nervous laughter tickling the tip of your nose. He can’t tell if you’re serious or not but this is getting a little weird. Even for him. You watch him for a moment before erupting in soft, sweet laughter that mocks him. Reaching underneath your pillow you pull out a gag and shove it right into his mouth, shutting him up for the first time tonight. 

“Baby, I’m done playing now!” you call out like a housewife announcing that dinner’s ready. 

You sit back up, climbing off of him, and skip your way over to the dresser on the other side of the room. You hop up, feet giddily swinging back and forth to the tune of heavy footsteps descending the hallway. The man’s eyes dart over to the closed bedroom door, his heart thumping out of his chest. You can make out a few muffled protests but you dare not take it out. There’s nothing he can say that interests you now. Not that it ever did. 

When your best friend first told you that a guy at the club was going around claiming to be the Slasher, you couldn’t believe your ears. Especially not when the real one was sleeping peacefully beside you. Further investigation proved that your best friend had been telling the truth so he had to be dealt with. Then another popped up and another. This one will make for the 4th and you must admit, as annoying as identity theft is for your boyfriend, you get a kick out of luring them here. 

They always start out so cocky but once the gag’s in and those footsteps come, getting closer and closer at an agonizing pace, they’re not so confident anymore. At first they freeze up just like the corpse they’re soon to be. The shock does need a few seconds to set in. And then they panic, screaming through the gag and tugging at their bindings, their bodies writhing like a fish out of water. This one’s no different than the others. You can guess his next move like a film you’ve watched a dozen times and all of it’s in vain. 

Sweat slicks his brow as the door creaks open and your face lights up like the Fourth of July. You breathe a sigh of relief. There he is. You’ve only been apart for hours but it feels like an eternity. A tall figure steps out of the shadows into the candlelight, revealing a handsome man in tailored black pants and a black button up you pressed yourself. His sleeves are rolled up, tucked just below the elbow where a pair of long black latex gloves begin. He spares the unfortunate soul strapped to the bed a passing glance before approaching you. He leans forward, palms flat on the dresser, caging you in. 

“Did I do okay?” you question innocently, always hungry for the praise he never fails to feed you. 

Yunho nods, gloved fingers stroking your soft cheek, “Oh, my good girl. You did more than okay. What would I do without you?”

Taking your chin between his thumb and pointer finger, he tilts your head up, capturing your lips in a kiss that would soak your panties if you were wearing any. He takes a deep breath as he pulls away, not wanting to but knowing that time is of the essence.

“Did he touch you?” Yunho’s jaw tenses, gloved hands flexing to warm up for the night’s events. 

You peek around him to check in on the dark haired man. His face is wet with tears and he’s sobbing all over your new gag. You pray he hasn’t pissed himself. You’re not in the mood to have to buy a new mattress again.

You look back to your boyfriend and nod. “In the car he put his hand on my thigh.” 

“Thank you for telling me, baby,” Yunho says, kissing you on the forehead. He turns around, eyes darkening as he approaches the foot of the bed. “I’ll start with his hands.” 

Kneeling down, he slides a large case from underneath the bed and pops it open to reveal his tools. The spread is a pristine assortment of autopsy tools, not a lowly butcher knife in sight. He delicately runs his fingers over them, settling on the fine toothed bone saw. Your gaze never leaves him as he rounds the bed, aligning the sharp teeth of the saw with what you’ve come to know as the ulna. The bone right on his inner forearm. 

Yunho grinds the saw against it and the man’s arm tears open, tattered pieces of flesh splintering off to the side as he carves his way through tough tendons. Blood gushes from the man’s arm, drenching the brand new sheets in a river of crimson. Yunho’s movements are precise and purposeful. The saw taps bone as the body below him convulses violently, the pain beyond anything you can imagine or ever care to. 

Your boyfriend pauses, glancing over at you, and you know it’s about that time. You open one of the drawers beside you, fishing out your phone and a pair of over ear headphones. You sync them up, hitting play on your favorite song, and smile lovingly back at him.

He can’t be as brutal when he knows you’re listening. It’s one of few things about his profession he’s never quite been able to bring himself to expose you to. Even with the man’s cries muffled, being dismantled brings sounds out of someone that could give the most vile person nightmares. You can watch all you want but you won’t hear them.

It’d be easy to say that you weren’t like this before you met him. You were a sweet, delicate flower and this charming psychopath came along, corrupting your young soul. But a girl doesn’t get wet watching her boyfriend dismember people because she had her purity corrupted.

You were never innocent, you’d simply presented yourself as such. Yunho just freed you from the prison of feeling guilty about what got you off. Power. Not being at the mercy of anyone. Yunho treats you like a princess. You’re never left wanting for anything. Your every desire is satisfied. So what if your Prince Charming comes with a body count? Nobody’s perfect. 

Yunho makes quick work of the body. After the slice to his second arm the man’s already at death’s door and the severing of his knees puts the final nail in the coffin. Yunho tosses the body parts to the ground like the limbs of an old doll. Breathless and blood soaked as he licks splatters of scarlet from his lip, he goes in for another cut.

You’re the only other thing he looks at like he does his work. The excitement of the kill is borderline orgasmic, dopamine coursing through his veins with every gruesome cut. Once he starts he has to keep going, chasing his high until it’s finished and the body’s nothing more than scattered pieces of an impossible puzzle. 

Shoving the torso to the floor, he steps back to catch his breath, waving to get your attention. You slip your headphones off, setting them down to navigate the landmine of limbs and entrails to reach your love. 

“You need some water, Yunie?” you ask, throwing your arms around him. The blood weighing down his clothes sticks to your arms, cool against your skin. It used to feel a bit strange but after a few times you’ve come to find it refreshing like a cool shower on a hot day. 

Yunho shakes his head, a dazed look in his eyes. Usually the adrenaline begins to die down after that final cut but it’s only getting more intense. His chest rises and falls rapidly as he salivates over you like a man on the brink of starvation. “No, I need you. Right now.” 

His lips crash into yours at a thousand miles per hour and you don’t even attempt to stop him. Why would you? Bloody gloves cling to your dress, stripping you of the material. You rip his shirt open, sending buttons raining down onto the slippery hardwood floor. Yunho’s hands ravenously explore your body as you rid him of his pants, painting your plush figure in blood like a canvas. 

Attempting to feast upon your body through gloves is as close to torture as he’s ever come so he tears them off, groaning in delight as his bare hands sink into your pillowy ass. He picks you up, tossing you back on the bed, your breasts bouncing marvelously as you land.

You grin watching your boyfriend stare down at you like an absolute animal. His body’s everything dreams are made of, his flawless, rigid cock already leaking in anticipation. You spread your thighs, teasing him with the arousal dripping from your entrance. Bringing two fingers between your legs, you stroke them between your lips, spreading yourself open for him.

“You want it?” you moan, back arching as you pinch your sensitive clit. 

Yunho positions himself between your legs, palming his cock above a pussy that’s clenching wildly at the ghost of what could be. He places a hand on your thigh, admiring the view. You in a sea of blood toying with yourself for his pleasure. What a sight to behold.

“You aren’t teasing me are you?” he asks, gripping your thigh tighter. His voice is low and rough, feral in every way. 

You bring your slick fingers up to the head of his cock, coating it on your juices. “And what if I am?”

You motion to get up, your brain set on tasting his cock on your tongue, but Yunho’s quicker than you, grabbing your wrists and pinning your arms over your head. His free hand wraps around your neck, the veins of his arms pulsing as he applies the right amount of pressure to leave you breathless but not in pain. 

“Do you want it?” He bumps his cock against your slit, missing on purpose to drag it between your folds. Your body shudders as much as it can with his full weight on you. 

“Mmhmm” you hum, knowing he won’t hurt you but loving that you’re completely at his mercy. 

“You know that’s not enough, baby” he smiles, squeezing your throat tighter, “I need to hear it, princess. Tell me you want it. Beg for daddy’s cock.”

He presses his throbbing tip to your entrance but this time he arches into you, giving you the head and nothing more. The stretch of that alone is disorienting, a wave of heat rushing through you. Releasing his hold on  your throat, he brings his lips to yours, parting them to taste the desperate pleas that spill out. 

“I want you to fuck me, Yunie. I’m so needy for your cock. I have been all night” you whine and his tongue traces your lips. You taste delicious. He inches into you, feeding you a little more then stopping. A little more then stopping. And your body jumps with every motion, pitiful sounds pouring from your lips onto his. 

“Fuck me” you beg, an undeniable brokeness in your tone, “Fuck me. Fuck me. Fuck…” Your voice trails off, eyes rolling back as he bottoms out. He lifts off of you, still holding your arms in place above your head, and thrusts into you ever so gently. You clamp down around him tightly enough that it’s hard to move, your pussy's too needy to let go. 

Yunho grins, cupping one of your breasts, “I didn’t know watching me kill got you so hot. You’re sick, you know that?” He pinches your nipple harshly and you squeal, twisting in his hold. 

“I know” you moan, blowing him a kiss, “But so are you.”

“Fuck, I love you” he growls, pulling you under with another dizzying kiss.

His thrusts grow harsher, your warm, spongy walls drawing him in impossibly deeper. His fingers knead the tender flesh of your breast as he brings his tongue down to soak your bud in equal parts blood and spit. Taking the bud between his teeth, he wraps his lip around it, suckling at it without losing his rhythm between your legs. 

“Yunie. So good. So, mmph, aah…” you’re moaning but he gives one particularly hard thrust to your cunt, knocking the words right out of your mouth. 

You want to touch him so badly. To dig your nails into his back while he fucks into you. To run your fingers through his hair, tugging at the deep brown strands as his tongue swirls around your bud.

“Touch” you pout, wiggling your hands. 

Yunho pops your bud free of his lips, licking his way up your breasts, across your heated skin, along your neck, until you’re eye to eye. “Use your words, baby. Tell me what you want.”

“Wanna touch you. Please, daddy” you plead. You’re so helpless. So beautiful.

Yunho watches you squirm, feigning indecision. After an agonizingly long contemplation, he turns your arms loose, the redness on your wrists marking where he held you. Your hands are drawn to him like magnets, scouring every inch of him they can reach just to feel him.

Your nails find his back, digging into the flesh. Yunho buries his face in your neck, moaning at the sensation. “Harder” he whispers, fingers knotting in the sheets beneath you. You dig your nails in deeper, breaking skin, and he’s on the edge of a whimper, the sensation nearly too much for him. 

Slipping an arm around your back, he keeps you flush against him, sinking into you over and over. Your mouth falls open, eyes squeezed closed. You’re saying something but nothing’s coming out. Only whines and moans, the occasional fractured piece of his name.

There’s no bracing yourself for a cock this long and thick. You just have to take it, let it destroy every bit of you until there’s nothing left. A sense of euphoria surges through you and your legs instinctively lock around his waist. 

“That’s it” he coos, fawning over the string of hickeys he’s left on your neck, “Be a good girl and cum for me.” Yunho grabs for your wrists one last time, locking them above your head. He pounds into you so hard the bed creaks, maybe even moves a few inches. “I wanna feel you gushing around this cock.”

Suddenly your breath hitches and your body feels weightless. It’s as if you’re floating above yourself. Watching this gorgeous man fuck you into the mattress like his own personal whore. And you are. You’re more than happy to be. Your senses come back to you in a rush of ecstasy and you’re trembling, crying out as you do exactly as he said. Creaming, gushing, dripping down his length. 

Yunho pulls back, kneeling between your legs to drag his cock out and glide it back in. He goes all starry eyed at the sight of his cock glistening in your cum and soon he’s spilling inside of you. Your needy walls milking his cock of the warm, white liquid that overflows from your delicious pussy.

His hand comes down on your plush belly, enjoying its softness as he feeds you those last few strokes. You’re still moaning weakly when he finishes, laying back on the bed and pulling you on top of him. 

Curled up safe and warm in his arms, you bask in the afterglow, thoughts of the man your boyfriend dismantled little more than a distant thought now. But ultimately it’s difficult to ignore. Especially when your eyes drift up and you notice something dangling in the corner of your eye. 

“Yunie” you say, lightly petting his shoulder. 

Yunho strokes your hair, looking down at you lovingly, “Yes, baby?”

“I think his hand’s still attached to the handcuff.”