#her eagle eyes are watching me

[alvinmichaelmurphyseville]

“Oh no. Miss. Smith saw me with my phone out. I’m dead! So dead!”

[lunamugetsu]

Danny is a house husband.

That's it, that's all it is.

As the years went on. Danny retired from being a superhero. There was no need for Phantom when the GIW were dealt with and all the ghosts were under control.

Now what's left for him to do but to just sit back, relax, and finally be able to live his life.

Sam and Tucker on the other hand....

Well, they had plenty of pent up rage, wits, and chaos inside their mind to become villains.

But they had one rule.

Never bring work home and to never involve Danny in any of their supervillain business.

Okay that's technically two rules, but they're kind of synonymous especially since Danny has been taking care of their house while also entertaining himself with trying new hobbies.

Tucker and Sam both make sure that they never bring any of their villainy home to Danny, because all they want is for Danny to enjoy his happy hero retirement.

And Danny in turn, doesn't bat an eye when watching the news and seeing that there were magical plants that were attacking sites that oil companies were digging or that somehow Lex Luthor had lost five hundred million dollars and had somehow leaked records showing he was building weapons of mass destruction.

He also doesn't bat an eye when he sees that Tucker had brought home a telescope that definitely looks like it came from some fancy lab because hey, Tucker was making him an observatory so he can look at the stars and planets. While also how they were able to make a great gaming pc with computer parts that are definitely not sold in stores, because hey at least the newest update of Doomed wasn't lagging.

Or that Sam comes home with various plants and animals that are definitely not from planet earth, but hey the three headed wolf-lizard-eagle- hybrid thing (that Danny has affectionately named Fluffy) is pretty great at keeping the pests away from his vegetable garden and likes to eat any of Danny's new food creations and is a great playmate for Cujo.

So you can imagine how the Justice League thinks when dealing with the pair of new villains: Upload (Tucker) and Sam (I could not think of a villain name that would suit her, so it's up to you what you think her villain name would be)

And how they were currently wreaking havoc in the city either by cyber warfare with robots or by magic plant monster or a Frankenstein of both approaches. The heroes had all evacuated the civilians from the battle zone and are currently fighting a losing battle. When they've been effectively captured and restrained by the two. Right before the villains could go into a monologue, they hear a person clearing their throat.

Everybody looks to see a 25 year old man wearing a sweater vest (he made it himself, thank you very much) currently holding onto the leash of a giant glowing green dog and some kind of giant animal hybrid. The man's arms were crossed and was currently not sporting a very happy look on his face.

Tucker and Sam (looking at Danny with hesitant smiles): Hi honey.

Danny (frowning): you missed our anniversary dinner.

Tucker and Sam both pale as they quickly realized what the date and time was.

The league all watch as Sam and Tucker immediately start apologizing to the man that just walked into a battle zone.

Danny (still frowning): Hmph! I guess since you two didn't want dinner you can go back to your little fight. Don't expect me to make you any lunches for the next month, and since you two are having so much fun here, you'll be sleeping by yourselves for the next couple weeks.

The league all watch as they were let go as Sam and Tucker yell as they run after Danny yelling apologies as he was walking away from them.

This is not the last they see of Danny.

When Danny is displeased with either of his partners, he'll invite a hero over to have lunch of afternoon tea.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

You should be using an RSS reader

On OCTOBER 23 at 7PM, I'll be in DECATUR, GEORGIA, presenting my novel THE BEZZLE at EAGLE EYE BOOKS.

No matter how hard we all wish it were otherwise, the sad fact is that there aren't really individual solutions to systemic problems. For example: your personal diligence in recycling will have no meaningful impact on the climate emergency.

I get it. People write to me all the time, they say, "What can I change about my life to fight enshittification, or, at the very least, to reduce the amount of enshittification that I, personally, experience?"

It's frustrating, but my general answer is, "Join a movement. Get involved with a union, with EFF, with the FSF. Tell your Congressional candidate to defend Lina Khan from billionaire Dem donors who want her fired. Do something systemic."

There's very little you can do as a consumer. You're not going to shop your way out of monopoly capitalism. Now that Amazon has destroyed most of the brick-and-mortar and digital stores out of business, boycotting Amazon often just means doing without. The collective action problem of leaving Twitter or Facebook is so insurmountable that you end up stuck there, with a bunch of people you love and rely on, who all love each other, all hate the platform, but can't agree on a day and time to leave or a destination to leave for and so end up stuck there.

I've been experiencing some challenging stuff in my personal life lately and yesterday, I just found myself unable to deal with my usual podcast fare so I tuned into the videos from the very last XOXO, in search of uplifting fare:

https://www.youtube.com/@xoxofest

I found it. Talks by Dan Olson, Cabel Sasser, Ed Yong and many others, especially Molly White:

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MTaeVVAvk-c

Molly's talk was so, so good, but when I got to her call to action, I found myself pulling a bit of a face:

But the platforms do not exist without the people, and there are a lot more of us than there are of them. The platforms have installed themselves in a position of power, but they are also vulnerable…

Are the platforms really that vulnerable? The collective action problem is so hard, the switching costs are so high – maybe the fact that "there's a lot more of us than there are of them" is a bug, not a feature. The more of us there are, the thornier our collective action problem and the higher the switching costs, after all.

And then I had a realization: the conduit through which I experience Molly's excellent work is totally enshittification-proof, and the more I use it, the easier it is for everyone to be less enshittified.

This conduit is anti-lock-in, it works for nearly the whole internet. It is surveillance-resistant, far more accessible than the web or any mobile app interface. It is my secret super-power.

It's RSS.

RSS (one of those ancient internet acronyms with multiple definitions, including, but not limited to, "Really Simple Syndication") is an invisible, automatic way for internet-connected systems to public "feeds." For example, rather than reloading the Wired homepage every day and trying to figure out which stories are new (their layout makes this very hard to do!), you can just sign up for Wired's RSS feed, and use an RSS reader to monitor the site and preview new stories the moment they're published. Wired pushes about 600 words from each article into that feed, stripped of the usual stuff that makes Wired nearly impossible to read: no 20-second delay subscription pop-up, text in a font and size of your choosing. You can follow Wired's feed without any cookies, and Wired gets no information about which of its stories you read. Wired doesn't even get to know that you're monitoring its feed.

I don't mean to pick on Wired here. This goes for every news source I follow – from CNN to the New York Times. But RSS isn't just good for the news! It's good for everything. Your friends' blogs? Every blogging platform emits an RSS feed by default. You can follow every one of them in your reader.

Not just blogs. Do you follow a bunch of substackers or other newsletters? They've all got RSS feeds. You can read those newsletters without ever registering in the analytics of the platforms that host them. The text shows up in black and white (not the sadistic, 8-point, 80% grey-on-white type these things all default to). It is always delivered, without any risk of your email provider misclassifying an update as spam:

https://pluralistic.net/2021/10/10/dead-letters/

Did you know that, by default, your email sends information to mailing list platforms about your reading activity? The platform gets to know if you opened the message, and often how far along you've read in it. On top of that, they get all the private information your browser or app leaks about you, including your location. This is unbelievably gross, and you get to bypass all of it, just by reading in RSS.

Are your friends too pithy for a newsletter, preferring to quip on social media? Unfortunately, it's pretty hard to get an RSS feed from Insta/FB/Twitter, but all those new ones that have popped up? They all have feeds. You can follow any Mastodon account (which means you can follow any Threads account) via RSS. Same for Bluesky. That also goes for older platforms, like Tumblr and Medium. There's RSS for Hacker News, and there's a sub-feed for the comments on every story. You can get RSS feeds for the Fedex, UPS and USPS parcels you're awaiting, too.

Your local politician's website probably has an RSS feed. Ditto your state and national reps. There's an RSS feed for each federal agency (the FCC has a great blog!).

Your RSS reader lets you put all these feeds into folders if you want. You can even create automatic folders, based on keywords, or even things like "infrequently updated sites" (I follow a bunch of people via RSS who only update a couple times per year – cough, Danny O'Brien, cough – and never miss a post).

Your RSS reader doesn't (necessarily) have an algorithm. By default, you'll get everything as it appears, in reverse-chronological order.

Does that remind you of anything? Right: this is how social media used to work, before it was enshittified. You can single-handedly disenshittify your experience of virtually the entire web, just by switching to RSS, traveling back in time to the days when Facebook and Twitter were more interested in showing you the things you asked to see, rather than the ads and boosted content someone else would pay to cram into your eyeballs.

Now, you sign up to so many feeds that you're feeling overwhelmed and you want an algorithm to prioritize posts – or recommend content. Lots of RSS readers have some kind of algorithm and recommendation system (I use News, which offers both, though I don't use them – I like the glorious higgeldy-piggeldy of the undifferentiated firehose feed).

But you control the algorithm, you control the recommendations. And if a new RSS reader pops up with an algorithm you're dying to try, you can export all the feeds you follow with a single click, which will generate an OPML file. Then, with one click, you can import that OPML file into any other RSS reader in existence and all your feeds will be seamlessly migrated there. You can delete your old account, or you can even use different readers for different purposes.

You can access RSS in a browser or in an app on your phone (most RSS readers have an app), and they'll sync up, so a story you mark to read later on your phone will be waiting for you the next time you load up your reader in a browser tab, and you won't see the same stories twice (unless you want to, in which case you can mark them as unread).

RSS basically works like social media should work. Using RSS is a chance to visit a utopian future in which the platforms have no power, and all power is vested in publishers, who get to decide what to publish, and in readers, who have total control over what they read and how, without leaking any personal information through the simple act of reading.

And here's the best part: every time you use RSS, you bring that world closer into being! The collective action problem that the publishers and friends and politicians and businesses you care about is caused by the fact that everyone they want to reach is on a platform, so if they leave the platform, they'll lose that community. But the more people who use RSS to follow them, the less they'll depend on the platform.

Unlike those largely useless, performative boycotts of widely used platforms, switching to RSS doesn't require that you give anything up. Not only does switching to RSS let you continue to follow all the newsletters, webpages and social media accounts you're following now, it makes doing so better: more private, more accessible, and less enshittified.

Switching to RSS lets you experience just the good parts of the enshitternet, but that experience is delivered in manner that the new, good internet we're all dying for.

My own newsletter is delivered in fulltext via RSS. If you're reading this as a Mastodon or Twitter thread, on Tumblr or on Medium, or via email, you can get it by RSS instead:

https://pluralistic.net/feed/

Don't worry about which RSS reader you start with. It literally doesn't matter. Remember, you can switch readers with two clicks and take all the feeds you've subscribed to with you! If you want a recommendation, I have nothing but praise for Newsblur, which I've been paying $2/month for since 2011 (!):

https://newsblur.com/

Subscribing to feeds is super-easy, too: the links for RSS feeds are invisibly embedded in web-pages. Just paste the URL of a web-page into your RSS reader's "add feed" box and it'll automagically figure out where the feed lives and add it to your subscriptions.

It's still true that the new, good internet will require a movement to overcome the collective action problems and the legal barriers to disenshittifying things. Almost nothing you do as an individual is going to make a difference.

But using RSS will! Using RSS to follow the stuff that matters to you will have an immediate, profoundly beneficial impact on your own digital life – and it will appreciably, irreversibly nudge the whole internet towards a better state.

Tor Books as just published two new, free LITTLE BROTHER stories: VIGILANT, about creepy surveillance in distance education; and SPILL, about oil pipelines and indigenous landback.

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/10/16/keep-it-really-simple-stupid/#read-receipts-are-you-kidding-me-seriously-fuck-that-noise

[jaewritesfic]

Melon!AU Part 3

The creature's surprise surprises everyone else.

“It understands English?” Dick asks with a thoughtful tone lacing his voice.

“Or recognizes the motion of the wave as something benign,” Damian proposes, tense as a live wire as he keeps eagle eyes on Cass below.

Cass raises her hands, and though she does so slowly no amount of surprise keeps the creature from restarting that odd, piercing warning sound.

“Don't be afraid,” she says slowly and clearly, her hands moving to sign the words as she speaks. “I'm a friend.”

Despite there being no iris or pupil to be found in those glowing eyes, the way they dart back and forth between her hands and her mask is clear to see.

It doesn't stop growling, but it does shift uneasily. 

Cass's hands move to sign without speaking.

Do you understand me?

Nothing, save for the flicking of bottomless eyes.

“Do you understand me?”

The creature twitches, like being asked such a thing is a surprise. It takes a long moment - as if the question must be some kind of trap - before its head jerks in a jittery, hesitant nod.

More than one person's breath catches audibly over comms.

The set of Cass's shoulders softens in a way that telegraphs a smile, one that can't be seen past her mask.

“Nice to meet you,” she says with her voice.

Knows English but not sign, she says with her hands.

Smart girl. With that knowledge she can sign to the Bats without the creature realizing her hands are saying anything different than her mouth.

As soon as nice to meet you spills into the open air, the creature stops growling. For something with such an inhuman, blank face it telegraphs shock and confusion loudly.

Actually, it…it's almost like Bruce can feel those things himself, like something brushing against the base of his brain. It's disturbing and fascinating all at once.

Perhaps the feelings of dread and disturbance being near it causes is more than just fear of the unknown.

If it can project its own feelings, can it also sense theirs? Bruce isn't sure how he feels about that idea.

“Are you hurt?”

Definitely guarding chest. Bleeding.

“Bleeding?” Tim asks. 

“Chest hurts?”

Bleeding green.

“It's bleeding the Lazarus water?” Tim hisses. 

“I'm sorry,” Jason's voice cuts in on comms. “Your creature is bleeding what now?”

“Unconfirmed, but the color is similar,” Bruce says.

Jason is on standby, gracious enough to be patrolling a little further than his usual to cover the gaps while they deal with whatever this is.

Gracious is actually a stretch considering the choice words he'd had about the request when asked. Still, the protests had been more routine than truly venomous.

Bruce suspects he's mostly displeased with not being on site if his siblings need him in the face of a total unknown.

“Do you need help?” Cass's voice rings out softly again.

Doesn't want to admit injury.

“A doctor?”

There are flinches all around as that finally gathers a marked reaction, and a negative one. The sound is like nails on a chalkboard, like a million light bulb filaments breaking and fizzling out. The cadence is odd, almost like the creature is trying to speak.

“No doctor! Okay, no doctor. It's okay.”

Afraid. Terrified.

The sound stutters out again, that odd feeling against the base of Bruce's skull and the wide eyes of the creature projecting confusion and disbelief over the easy acquiescence. 

This is not an entity that expects to have its desires or fears cared about. Bruce has a bad feeling it's an expectation borne from experience.

Once again, he thinks with a sick feeling about the fact that he hadn't stopped to consider the creature might be reasoned with until Cass stepped in.

“Can I come closer?”

The creature whines as if it's a frightened stray, not a shadowy nightmare. Its claws click against the pavement in a manner that feels distinctly nervous. 

“Please? I won't hurt you.”

Tired. Can't go for much longer and knows it.

They all watch closely as the creature's eyes flicker up and towards the line of police cruisers and officers at the very end of the alley, then back to Cass.

Its claws keep clicking. 

The pool of green below it might be bigger, or it might just be the new knowledge that the substance is like blood messing with Bruce's nerves.

“I'm coming over. Slow. I won't hurt you.”

Weighing their options. Either me or cops. Knows that too.

True to her word, Cass moves slowly.

The creature's tail lashes and it grumbles its unrest, but it doesn't snarl like before and it doesn't lash out even when she's certainly close enough for those long spindly arms to reach.

Cass sinks to her knees just feet from it, posture intentionally open. Carefully, she offers another wave and a pleased, “Hello. See? All okay.”

Bruce's heart seizes. For just a moment, the wide glowing eyes angled to look up at Cass read as painfully young. Like a frightened child.

“You need help,” Cass almost whispers, hands laying on her thighs in plain sight. “No doctors, I know. But maybe a safe place? Come with me?”

Surely the comms have never been so silent as they are while Cass turns her hands over and extends them, like she's inviting the creature to place its own in her palms.

“Keep you safe. I promise.”

For a long few moments, the creature is so silent and still it may well have frozen in time.

Then there's a mourning keen that nearly buckles Bruce at the knees and the creature is moving. 

Instead of taking her hands, it drags itself forward and grabs at her to a chorus of panicked shouts on the comms. So quickly nobody has time to react, it's dragged itself up to cling to her shoulders and bury its face in her neck.

The shadowy frame trembles when she holds it in return.

Masterpost

[spicymambaae]

I'm gonna burn in hell for y'all, but the pleasure’s all mine 🙃

The room was filled with the sounds of Karina's moans and gasps, her breath quickening as she lay spread eagle on the bed. Her hands were wrapped tightly around Winter's neck, pulling her closer, desperate for more. Winter's lips trailed kisses along Karina's sensitive neck, while her fingers worked their magic between Karina's thighs.

"I love playing with your pussy like this,“ Winter murmured, her breath hot against Karina's skin. "Watching you squirm and writhe as I tease you. Feeling how wet and ready you are for me." Her fingers danced up and down Karina's slit, making her shudder.

Karina gasped, her hips bucking slightly. "Y-yes…baby, I’m so wet for you. Please, I need more.”

"Mmm, greedy girl," Winter teased, slipping two fingers inside Karina's dripping core. "Slipping my fingers inside you whenever I want. Feeling your tight pussy clench around them."

"Yes, baby, whenever you want," Karina moaned, her eyes fluttering closed as pleasure washed over her. "It feels so good.”

Winter curled her fingers, finding that sweet spot deep within, and began to thrust slowly. "Your pussy is so greedy for my fingers, Karina. See how it swallows them, wanting more. You feel so good wrapped around my fingers."

Karina gasped, her hips bucking involuntarily as Winter curled her fingers "Oh, fuck, right there! Your fingers feel so good inside me."

As Karina moved her hips, she felt the soft touch of silicone against her inner thighs. Winter has strapped on a harness with a thick dildo, and the sight of it sent a jolt of anticipation through Karina's body.

"Fuck me, Winter," she moaned, her voice slutty and demanding. "I need you to stretch me good."

Winter smirked, her eyes dark with desire. "I want your pussy to ache for me. Beg for it. Beg to be fucked hard."

Karina whined, reaching down to grab the base of the strap and guide it to her wet entrance. "I beg you, baby. Fuck my pussy. I need inside me. Please."

With a gentle but firm thrust, Winter pushed her hips forward, sinking the strap-on deep into Karina's waiting cunt. "You're going to feel every inch of that cock going in and out of you. And you're going to want more... and more." Winter whispered, beginning to thrust in a steady rhythm.

Karina cried out as she felt her pussy stretch. "It's so big. Fuck me, baby."

"Fuck, your pussy is so tight, swallowing my cock." Winter groaned, picking up the pace. "I wanna go even harder because I know you can take it. You're such a dirty little slut for me."

"I can take it!" Karina screamed, pushing Winter's head down to suck on her erect nipples. "Suck my tits while you fuck me. Oh, yes, just like that!"

Winter obliged, laving one nipple and then the other with her tongue, nibbling and sucking as she continued to thrust harder and faster. "Oh, I know you can take it. You're taking it so well right now."

The room was filled with the wet, lewd sounds of the strap sliding in and out of Karina's tight pussy. Winter straightened her back, watched as the dildo disappeared inside Karina's greedy cunt. "So fucking beautiful. You're taking it like a good little slut."

Karina propped herself up on her elbows, watching as her pussy swallowed the strap. "Oh my God, baby, you’re gonna make me cum. My clit is so fucking swollen.”

With a wicked smile, Winter rubbed Karina's clit gently with her thumb, making her jump and cry out. "I think your clit is begging for my lips, baby. It wants my mouth on it."

Without warning, Winter slipped out of Karina, leaving her wanting and needy. She buried her face in Karina's pussy, her tongue delving deep inside to taste all of her juices.

Karina's body convulsed as Winter's mouth wrapped around her clit. She jumped and squirmed, trying to escape the overwhelming sensation, but Winter held her hips firmly, keeping her in place.

“Fuck, baby, I’m too sensitive,” Karina moaned, trying to push Winter’s head away.

But Winter held her hands, refusing to let her go, her mouth and tongue working relentlessly. "Cum for me, baby. Cum all over my face."

"Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck!” Karina cried out, her body tensing as an intense orgasm was about to rip through her body. “I’m cumm—”

Just as Karina was about to cum, there was a knock on the door, startling Giselle from her trance. She quickly paused the video, locked the tablet and hid it beneath her pillow, her heart pounding.

"Giselle, are you in there?" came a voice from outside the door. It was Karina.

Giselle's mind raced. Should she answer? What would she say? She had just watched her group members fucking, and she wasn't sure how to process it.

Giselle took a moment to collect herself, her cheeks flushed. "Y-yes, just a minute," she called out, her voice slightly hoarse.

“I think I left my tablet in here. Mind if I come in?” The door opened, and Karina stepped into the room.

Giselle's heart hammered in her chest as she frantically tried to think of an excuse. “I haven’t seen it. Are you sure you didn’t leave it somewhere else?”

Karina's eyes narrowed slightly, a hint of suspicion flashing across her face. "I'm sure I left it here. I just..." Her voice trailed off as she scanned the room, her gaze landing on the pillow where Giselle had hidden the tablet.

Giselle took a step forward, blocking Karina’s view of the pillow. "Hey, why don't we check the living room? Maybe you left it there. I'll help you look."

Karina hesitated for a moment, her eyes searching Giselle's face. Then, she seemed to relax, shaking her head with a small smile. "No, it's fine. I must have misplaced it. I'll keep looking. Thanks anyway."

As Karina turned to leave, Giselle let out a sigh of relief. She had come dangerously close to being caught, and the realization of what she had done began to sink in. She felt a mix of guilt and excitement as she thought about the secret she now shared with Karina.

----

Karina Moans I Winter Moans I Winter Moans II

[brokenmenswhore]

Hi! I see you wrote that you’re going to start writing for Marauders? I was wondering if maybe you could write a fic where the reader is dating one of the boys and they keep doing stuff in front of the others, and the others are all frustrated and horny? You can decline if you want!

don’t look | poly!marauders

pairing: poly!marauders x fem!reader, remus lupin x fem!reader

warnings: smut (MDNI 18+), voyeurism, language

part 2

────── ☾ ──────

Remus was never shy around his friends, but he wasn’t decent, either. He didn’t understand what the big deal was about fucking you when they were around. He wanted what he wanted, when he wanted it, and he didn’t care if James or Sirius heard you, as long as they didn’t look.

He started touching you when they were around, causing you to blush and push him off of you.

“Relax, Y/N, they don’t care,” he said.

“I care,” you retorted, “you aren’t gonna rub me off in front of everyone in this dorm room.”

“Why not?” he pouted, continuing his actions no matter what. It felt too good to stop him, and besides, what did you have to be ashamed of? You always spoke of sex positivity, and it isn’t anything the other boys haven’t heard before.

When Sirius and James started to hear your whimpers, they looked over at you from their beds, and Remus glared at them.

“What the fuck are you two looking at?” he asked, slowly inserting a finger into your hole.

“Fuck do you mean?” James asked, “you’re fucking her in front of us.”

“Doesn’t mean you’re allowed to see her like this,” Remus replied, and that was enough to make it clear to the boys that they were not to look at you when they heard Remus work you up.

But there you were, spread eagle on the couch, Remus’s tongue inside of you while his thumb circled and flicked at your bud.

You couldn’t stop the moans that poured out of your lips, your hands pulling at Remus’ hair, causing him to moan into your hole.

“Shit, Rem,” you sighed out, whines and whimpers filling up the room.

Sirius was sat across from you, trying his hardest to keep his attention on the books in his lap.

You let out a particularly filthy moan, and Sirius couldn’t help but sneak a peek. You threw your head back, your chest rising and falling rapidly. He thought you looked so pretty.

Remus had his back turned to Sirius since he was kneeling on the floor in front of you, so Sirius saw no issue in keeping his gaze on you.

Remus ate you like a man starved, gripping your thighs to keep them open as you pushed his head closer to your cunt.

Your moans were growling louder, and you were completely unashamed of it. “Rem!” you squealed as the feeling grew and grew.

You tilted your head down to watch Remus eat you, and your eyes caught Sirius’ on the way down. He was looking straight at you. You thought about maybe signaling to Remus, but you honestly didn’t care. “Don’t look” was Remus’ rule, not yours, and besides, Sirius was hot.

You whined as you stared Sirius, Remus’s fingers moving faster and faster as you began to clench around his tongue. Your high hit you like a train, and you fought to keep your eyes open and trained on Sirius.

Sirius shifted in his seat, clearly uncomfortable in his pants, as he watched you come and then come down from your high. Your breathing started to still and Remus looked up at you, noticing you staring forward. He whipped his head around, making direct eye contact with Sirius.

“Sirius!” he screamed.

Sirius shot up and leaped over the couch, running out of the room as Remus chased him.

[sytoran]

⁺‧ ₊ ཐི⋆ ♱ ❝GUILTY AS SIN?❞ ♱ w. maximoff !

pairing ★ older!nun!wanda x masc!fem!reverend!reader

synopsis ★ (based on this ask) a 1950s church au, set somewhere loosely in europe, in which a reverend and a nun serving at a cathedral harbour forbidden feelings for each other, where love intertwines with religion in a sacred romance.

warnings ★ explicit content (minors dni), pwp, reader has a cock, virgin!reader but not for long ;), you have a thing for older women, wanda is a tease, no daddy/mommy kink (sorry, it didn't really fit for wanda), but something else fit inside wanda (wink wink)

word count ★ 3.6k (serving) | main m.list

“The Lord be with you.”

“And with your spirit.”

Wanda stands for the final blessing, eyes shut in devout faithfulness. As the choral voices utter the hauntingly beautiful concluding hymn, she exhales softly, letting the singing resound around each panel of glass in the tall cathedral.

Harmonic minor chords echo from the organ, as the acolytes walk down the aisle. Voices rise in harmony. Little altar boys trip over their feet. The older wardens are grim with wrinkles set into aged skin.

And then there is you.

Illuminated by the tinted light is your set face, cloaked in your black vestments and as regal as ever. Wanda watches under her white veil, poised hands and craned neck. 

Wanda was not oblivious that her want for you was forbidden. A deep sin, for the two of you were devout servers of the church. It went against everything she had been taught since she was a first year at Westview Catholic High, but then again, you were the fount of her desires, and it was as simple as that.

As you walk past her solemnly, Wanda catches your eye. She can see you stiffen under her stare ablaze, swallowing a lump in the back of your throat, and victory glints in Wanda’s lowered gaze.

She had to be patient.

Once the mass proceedings were over, you stood outside the cathedral, all gentle smiles and warm hands. It was no secret that you were a crowd favourite amongst the pent-up housewives of Westview and repressed nuns of the church.

How could they not, after all, with the way your dark garments hugged your stately figure, broad and wide and lined with unspoken strength. You were polite, and respectful, and far too innocent for your own good. 

Wanda stands by the entrance of the church, watching you get swarmed by the ladies like a high school heartthrob. 

It was okay, she was content with waiting.

“Reverend L/N,” A middle-aged lady calls, clutching onto your forearm. You smile kindly at her, recognising Pepper, the suburban mom down at 5th and Street. “Yes, Miss Potts, how was today’s service?”

“Absolutely splendid,” She gushes shamelessly, clasping your hands and stepping in far too close. “Your gospel was so moving.”

The overt affection is cloying to Wanda’s senses, only heightened by her distaste for Pepper’s dress. There was simply no reason why her Beatnik dress had to be so low-cut.

Your other arm is not safe from the clutches of Sister Agatha. She was the most experienced of the nuns and had basically claimed her stake on you since you were assigned to the church. Suddenly, hands caress the dip of your tricep to your bicep.

“Excuse me, Miss Potts,” Agatha says snidely. “Reverend L/N has to get back to her duties, if you’ll allow us.” You swallow at the way her perfume scent overtakes your senses, only magnifying the heat under your robes. 

The mom is evidently put off by this, along with the other ladies of the church, some with babies on their hips and without their husbands.

You, on the other hand, stand awkwardly amongst the crowd of ladies, their eyes feasting upon you like a predator eagle.

Even then, Wanda could see the effect that it had on you, ever the innocent and inexperienced. With a pair of ample assets pressed up against your muscled forearm, and a feminine hand wrapped around your bicep, there was no hiding the flush in your face and the telltale tent in your robes.

“I- I have to go,” you say suddenly. You retract your arms, as if scorned, worry clouding your expression. You make your way through the crowd of women, embarrassed and ashamed, leaving many disappointed women in your wake.

A smile crawls up Wanda’s face as she watches you attempt to retreat back into your office. 

She ducks behind the wall of the corridor. As your hurried footsteps approach, Wanda steps out, as if walking in the opposite direction from you. 

“Oof!” The two of you collide comically (intentionally), as Wanda’s hands fly to your arms for support. She dramatically falls forward into your wide embrace, unnecessarily clumsy — but you don’t know any better, profusely apologising to Wanda.

“Sister Wanda!” You say breathlessly, gripping onto her hips unconsciously, unbeknownst to the effect it had on the older woman. “I’m so sorry, I had no idea you were just around the corner. Why, I seem to be out of sorts as of late.”

Wanda is more than content to run her gloved hands up your arms, shaking her head dutifully.

“I was looking for you, actually,” she says with a kind smile, noting the way your throat bobs as you hold her by her slim waist, entirely transfixed.

Sister Wanda was beautiful like the night, pale moonlight and soft silk. Dainty fingertips clutch the rosary beads, and you yearned to lift up her white veil to see the ethereality that lay beneath. 

It seemed like an eternity before you snapped out of your trance, stepping back and coughing into your hand. 

Wanda would think you were a fool if you believed she couldn’t see the issue in your pants, filling up quite a lot more space than it normally did. It excited Wanda to no end, as the fabric covering your body shifted across your planes of muscles as you moved back.

“Yes, I- uhm,” you clear your throat distractedly. “What queries did you have, again?”

“Ah,” Wanda says easily, tilting her head in amusement at your innocence. “Regarding mass, of course.”

Your brows furrow, terribly hiding your visible disappointment. Wanda could almost giggle at your dejectedness. It was no matter, that issue of yours would be remedied soon.

“I was wondering if I could visit your office tonight?” Wanda asks innocently.  “I’ve been having these… thoughts, and I would like to share them with someone I trust.”

“Someone you trust,” you echo, folding your arms and feeling your heart rate pick up exponentially at the sentiment that Sister Wanda trusted you. “Of course, Sister. As a preacher and a friend, I would gladly aid you in any troubles.”

“Any?” Wanda asks, and you swear you see a twinkling sparkle of mischief behind that white veil. “I guess only time will tell. Until then, Reverend, goodbye.”

Sister Wanda disappears down the lane of grey concrete, losing you in the corner wall of red brick, leaving you with a lot more to comprehend than just your hummingbird-esque thrumming heart.

⁺‧₊˚ ཐི ⋆ ♱ ⋆ ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

Ten o’clock strikes the clock tower at the Town Square, a dull and permeating sound that resurfaces you from your listless floating.

You hadn’t been able to focus on anything all day after your interaction with Wanda. Anticipation ate you up from the inside out, affecting the quality of your sermons, although your crowd of admirers never weaned.

There was only one woman you cared for, though.

“Reverend L/N?” A sweet voice asks from beyond the shut door, and you shoot up with vigour that could rival Elvis performing Hound Dog. (You’d seen a clip of it on the television the other day — that young man was a star in the making.)

When you finally manage to fumble open the door handle, all the breath gets stolen from your weeping heart, and you may as well be laying in your casket because it looks like it’s your funeral.

To your utter demise and beseeching joy, Wanda Maximoff stands before you looking like a Renaissance painting handcrafted by Michaelangelo himself. What with her white veil removed to expose the delicacy of her beautiful face you long to caress, and her hair let down to fall in soft curls, and a smile playing on her glossy lips — you’re gone, already, before she even steps inside.

Wanda lets herself in, brushes past you and leaves you dazed in her wake. 

“So, shall we begin with an opening prayer?”

Regretfully, you’re unable to devote your entire concentration upon the given task. You’d say you weren’t totally at fault, though — Wanda looked different today, a good kind of different, one that made you feel lighter than you ever had.

“Lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil,” Wanda recites, hands clasped as she looks down. “Amen,” you close off, placing your beaded rosary back into your drawer. 

You look up to see the older woman regarding you with an unreadable expression, the reflection from your dim ceiling light flickering in her viridescent eyes. It lights a fire within you, a desire for something you can’t quite place.

The ticking of your Peter table-clock seems too loud, all of a sudden, and Wanda’s gaze overwhelms your very sentience. You get a premonition, somewhere in the back of your mind, that this scene is going to unfold in a way you wouldn’t be prepared for.

“It’s rather warm in here, isn’t it?” Wanda voices abruptly, breaking the tense silence that had settled above the two of you.

You shoot up too quickly, banging your knee on your desk, then clearing your throat. “Well, it is nearing summer, Sister,” you answer with a strained voice. You can feel Wanda’s eyes on you as you pace the room to switch on the ceiling fan.

When you turn back around after fumbling with the power switch, your jaw slackens at the sight of Wanda. Oh. 

She’s undressing before your very eyes, mumbling something about the irritatingly warm weather your brain doesn’t even begin to process, because you could swear up and down you’d never seen such beauty before.

“Well, I should get into it before the night drags on,” Wanda speaks, her voice a thousand miles away. Hopeless devotion swirls in your wandering gaze, focusing upon the silk black negligee that is revealed from under her robes — you don’t stop to think about the practicality of such clothing, foolish as you are — and the matching black high-rise stockings of hers do you in.

“Reverend L/N?” Sister Wanda asks, snapping you out of your fantastical trance, sending a sharp jolt to your growing member. A toying smile plays on her lips, one you don’t notice out of sheer embarrassment, her tone husking with a velvet lilt.

“Y-yes, Sister,” you say, sitting back down firmly in your seat and wishing you could scare your growing shaft into mellowing down, because you were certain you were already staining your undergarments. “Excuse my, uh, carelessness. Please, continue.”

“I’ve been having these…… thoughts, as of late,” Wanda begins, sitting forward, unhelpfully pronouncing her cleavage. “Sleepless nights, dreams in the morning. Fantasy, but not quite. Yearning would be a more apt description, wouldn’t it, for something that you crave so dearly when you know it’s impossible to attain.”

You’re lost, a little hazy between the lines, caught somewhere between comprehending Wanda’s speech and staring wide-eyed at her chest. 

“What do you mean?” you ask, suddenly breathless, choking under your stifling garments and feeling unbearably warm in the heat of your enclosed office.

Your big hands flex and release, toying with something, anything, to distract you, and the older nun is prone to gazing hungrily. 

“Sex,” Wanda finally states unabashedly, and you choke on stilled air and the scent of old books. 

Sex.

“S-sex?” You ask, heat rushing to your ears, praying that you’d misheard or something of the sort, but at the same time more alive than you’d ever been.

“Yes, Reverend L/N, sex. It’s dirty, and raw, and everything we’ve been taught not to pay heed to,” Wanda begins in a breathless rush of eagerness, and you’re swept along in her unstoppable hurricane, on the brink of something inexplicable.

“But oh, it feels so good, and I crave it more than anything. More than life itself, if that’s even possible, because this desire is unlike anything I’ve ever felt before. And, mark my language and bless the Lord above, but Christ — I’ve never yearned for this object of my desires so deeply and intrinsically. Someone, to be specific.”

You listen with a distant look in your eyes, your brainwaves fusing somewhere between “dirty” and “raw”. Still, your heart lurches at the prospect of another competitor for your forbidden love.

“Someone?” you ask, leaning back into your armchair and folding your arms. Your faux composure juxtaposes your thundering heart, as you die in anticipation and perhaps something dirtier.

“Yes,” Wanda simply states. She tilts her head, furrows her brows as if contemplating something. Then she nods, self-assuredly, and before you can get another word out, the older nun seals your fate.

“That someone is you.”

You’d always been a believer, but in that moment your heart transcends the physical boundaries of life before death, and you ascend to heaven and see the pearly gates, before Lucifer strikes you down to an undeniable reality.

“You think of me…… indecently?” You ask, almost a whisper, as if fearful of waiting ears on this cathedral’s dead night.

“Once again, yes. Call me presumptuous, but I believe your rock-solid erection is telling of the mutual lust we share, Reverend.”

You splutter, just now realising your uncooperative dick is nearly at full-mast. 

“But,” you try, licking your lips in an anxious motion that has the older nun intently more aroused. “I’m— I’m not too experienced in that prospect, Sister. Not that I’m declining your request, definitely not, I— I simply fear I’m no good at satiating your needs.”

“You could never disappoint me,” Wanda responds in a sweet tone, and your heart explodes in some unexplored liking for older women’s approval. 

Wanda stands up, and your gaze follows your esteemed temptress. “Besides,” she adds, her voice carrying a lightness you’d never heard before. “Experimenting is half the fun, isn’t it?”

It feels as though no time passes before Wanda is standing before you, a light hand tilting your head up as you become still in your seat, her right thumb tracing the curve of your jaw.

“Well, Sister, I suppose you’re right as always,” you answer breathlessly, a hand going to cup the smooth curve of her waist. 

Each breath feels like rarest air as your eyes flutter shut, waiting patiently for the slow dip of Wanda’s head, as she brings you into a fated, ceremonial sealing of warm lips.

Wanda moves in a controlled manner at first, clearly more experienced than you, methodically moving her lips in a rocking motion as you find your pace.

Gradually, as a simple kiss grows lacking in the face of your burning passion and Wanda’s tentativeness fades away, you deepen the kiss, slanting your mouth against the nun’s, almost like you’d done it a thousand times, like it was meant to be.

Two pairs of lips move in haunting remembrance, cascading like the ebb and flow of a wave, the tide that washes over you in saintly baptism, cloaking you with the gentleness of an angel’s wings.

“Oh,” Wanda murmurs against your lips, a tiny gasp slipping from her mouth as your hands eagerly slide over the curve of her ass, devotional, wanting.

She straddles your waist, comfortably sat in your lap. It takes Herculean self-restraint for you to not to moan at the expanse of soft skin pressed against your robes. 

“You’re certainly eager, aren’t you,” Wanda quips with a satisfied sigh, hands running up and over your arms and torso, certainly soaking in the new closeness that propriety once prevented.

“I am,” you utter dazedly, hands desperately palming at every inch of Wanda you can find, trying to memorise every curve and blemish. This moment, right here, was a sacred happening you’d only fantasised on the dirtiest nights, in some hopeless damnation of your unrequited love.

Requited indeed it was, and you’d never been more receptive to being proved wrong, as Wanda leisurely grinds on the bulge in your robes, controlling your pleasure like the puppeteer of a marionette. 

“Too many clothes,” she groans, as you helplessly begin bucking your hips into the rocking motions of her hips. Your acquiescence comes in the form of the frantic removal of your robes, Wanda nearly ripping off your pants underneath. It leaves you feeling awfully exposed in a tight-fitting white tee and grey boyshorts.

Uneven exhales resound in the space between the two of you, 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you whisper, embarrassment tainting the tips of your ears and a flush that races down your neck. 

“How could I not, my sweet,” Wanda answers in a sweet murmur, delicate lips trailing down the column of your neck as she shifts on your lap. “You’re perfect.”

Your eyes flutter shut as Wanda’s hand slips down the band of your boyshorts, pulling out your cock as it springs out of its confinement. It’s big, you know it is, and you watch in anticipation as Wanda’s eyes darken several shades.

“It’s alright?” You ask, albeit tentatively, gripping the base of your cock to stop yourself from climaxing right then and there. “I’ve never— you know.”

“More than alright, darling,” Wanda murmurs with crescented eyelids, tracing the winding vein on the left side, fingertips rubbing at your tip in some sort of wonderment.

The sheer size difference of her pale hand and your thick cock changes your brain on a chemical level, and you think that this is going to be embarrassingly quick.

“Wanda,” you pant into the open air, your voice hoarse and your gaze hungry. Her hand furiously jackhammers up and down the length of your thick shaft, from base to tip, spraying droplets of pre-cum all over the both of you.

You let out an almost-whine as you throw your head back, chasing that warm heat that’d only ever been a part of your most sinful dreams. Wanda must be an expert at this, you think, as her thumb rubs your sensitive tip with each hard thrust of her hand.

“I’m gonna— fuck, oh God,” you gasp, and Wanda quietens you by pulling you into a messy kiss. Tongues envelop one another, and it’s sloppy, and wet, but pleasure is coursing through your bloodstream, ferocious devotion in an excruciatingly fast hurdle to a preordained climax.

“Wanda, you have to stop, or I’m gonna—”

“Isn’t that the whole point, darling? Do it inside.”

Wanda lifts her hips, revealing her wet heat to your starry gaze. It looks like some delicate flower you’d find in a faraway field, except it was something you craved to feel, and suddenly the desire in your stomach is unbearable and you move with frantic urgency.

You groan as your tip brushes against her velvet wetness, finally, collecting trails of slick to make it even more damp than it was prior. Wanda sinks downward with a shaky exhale, and the soft heat that envelops your shaft is the holiest shrine you’d ever chanced upon.

“Wanda,” you say, swallowing, big hands moving to grip at her hips, slowly opening her up with each inch. 

Eventually, the slow pace drives you to the edge of insanity, and you begin your freefall with an abrupt change of heart. All too soon, the atmosphere surrounding the two of you becomes hot, rough, dirty — just like how Wanda explained it, fulfilling the filthiest fantasies of two wandering minds.

“Y/N!” Wanda calls out, panting, locks of hair falling out of place as you roughly manhandle her hips up and down your thick length.

Her delightful moans are heaven to your ears, as your fingers dig into plush skin, a sweetness naught would remove from your reach.

"I'm close," she whines into your ear, the fabric of her negligee clinging to flushed skin, your boyshorts all damp with your bodily fluids.

She slides down and up at a lightning-fast pace, both of you desperately chasing down each other's pleasure. Her pussy constricts your thick shaft in a tight hold, and your hands are none the better, palming at her ass.

"Oh, God," the older nun whines, when you increase the pace in a last-ditch attempt, the sound of bare skin meeting enveloping the room in a heady, aroused mess.

Your eyes find the crucifix across the room just before you tip over that edge one would view in reverence, hurtling downwards like Lucifer with his tainted lips, calling out Wanda's name in a breathless cry—

And there is devotion in your shared sin, breathless cries spilling from tainted lips, where grace is found in a mismatched harmony, and two sinners turn away from repentance.

"Oh!" Wanda cries out, thighs wrapping around your torso, head thrown back in a picture of evangelical reverence.

You think Wanda is the only altar you’d ever need, prayerless faithfulness in devout worship, a lowly pilgrim knelt before a holy shrine. “Fuck,” you breathe, as Wanda collapses above you, soft pants gradually becoming steady again.

“I knew you’d be perfect,” Sister Wanda — no, just Wanda — whispers, still straddling your lap with her palms pressed to the sides of your face in a gentle cradle. “Thank the heavens I found you.”

“What happens next?” You ask. There is a tremble in your voice, a fear of the unknown. There were prying eyes of religious watchers, where critical judgement of the queer community was prevalent in this time, where bravery did not always triumph over prejudice.

“What happens to us?”

Wanda’s lips brush against your forehead, her gentleness lulling you into utopia. “Only God knows, my love,” she whispers back.

It is then that you realise it didn’t matter, anyways, wherever you’d end up, as long as it was with your sacred, sanctimonial love.

so... how was that in all of its religious and horny imagery?? haven't written for wanda in forever omg. can yall spot the ttpd lyrics lol (side note: ttpd has some of the most profound lyrics i’ve ever heard, i can only aspire to achieve that level of literary greatness.) reblog please literally getting down on my knees atp main m.list

[purerae]

╭────༺♡༻────╮

YANDERE!PERV X FEM!READER // PT1

warnings ;; nsfw themes, creepy behaviour, overall yandere themes

╰────༺♡༻────╯

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who didn’t really believe in love at first sight. ‘People were horrible and mean, loves not real at all!’

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who immediately disregards his previous statement the moment he saw you, his ears perking up at the sound of your voice speaking to your fellow classmates.

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who’s enamoured with you the first time you ran into the lecture hall, hair messed up, books all jumbled and bag almost falling off. You looked so perfect and sweet!

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who watches you so intently as you work, he stares at you as if he’s an eagle. Everyone notices him staring at you and thinks he’s a perverted freak, but you don’t pay any mind to it. That must mean you think he’s okay!? that must mean you like him..<3

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who doesn’t even have a conversation with you for months but just practically eye-fucks you. He remembers all your outfits and if you ever rewore them. Your favourite sweater, which he wants to steal so he can do god knows what to it.

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who almost whimpers when you sit next to him, He secretly thanks the person who stole your self assigned seat.

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who’s eyes widen as he realises he’s going to have to speak to you. shit shit shit what should he do?!

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who after 30 long minutes, has the courage to shyly ask for a pen. quickly hiding his stationary; he stutters, pauses, and whispers the 7 words. It’s practically impossible to understand him. “d..do you have…a p..pen that i can borrow..?”

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who almost combusts when you give him a polite grin, saying ‘of course!’ and lending him a pen before focusing back on your work. To you it was a conversation you don’t think twice about, for him? It made his entire month.

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who can’t even focus on his work as he notices the bite marks on top of your pen. your lips and teeth touched the lid…his slender fingers slowly brush the bite marks, hands quivering with delight. Even a streak of blood couldn’t compare to how red he was. He’s keeping this pen no matter what.

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who gasps in relief when you leave forgetting to ask for your pen back, he quickly puts it in his bag and beams happily all the way back to his flat. The happiest he’s been in years!

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who places the stolen pen on his night desk, and kisses the top of it every night like a routine. ‘I’m practically kissing her~!’

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who slowly collects the things you accidentally leave behind. Half drunk water bottle? His. A tissue you used when it was getting a bit cold? In his pocket like it’s his hankerchief. A core of an apple you chucked into the trash can before walking into the class? Treats it like it’s Gods gift

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who built a mini shrine of your belongings at the back of his closet. His harmless little secret, no body, especially you needs to know.

˚₊· ͟͟͞➳❥ YANDERE!PERV who loves you so so so much! he’d do anything for you! ..even if you guys have only ever spoken once or twice.

“Mmm hey! Can you help me with this question…?”

purerae<3

[blastoqueen]

Sunrise.

Chapter 4

Rating: Teen and Up

Relationships: Noa x Mae (Kingdom of the Planet of the Apes)

Content warnings: None

Comments: English is not my first language. The chapter problably has a lot of bad english, but in my defense I wrote this with a terrible headache. Anyway this doesn’t have a lot of plot, I just wanted to write something sweet between them

When Noa looked at Mae, the first thing that came to mind was her eyes. Bright blue, looking deep into his soul. Next thing he thought of was her long hair, entangled and dirty, he often wanted to tell her that she should just cut it all.

“If you are going to be a hairless being, do it right” he never dared to say those words out loud, but the need was strong.

There was a part of him, a confusing and strange part of him, that wanted to touch the brown hair and detangled every not. He has seen Mae do that with her hands.

It had been two weeks since Mae settled in the village. Noa never told the human, but it took a lot of convincing and yelling for the elders to accept her permanently into their clan. He felt almost embarrassed when he had to make an announcement to the rest of the apes, telling them that Mae was a part of them now, and that they should respect her as long as she did her part in the community. Of course, there were disagreements, but eventually most of them came to accept the Echo in the Eagle Clan.

“But going back to her hair…”

------------

“Why only females… come with you?” Soona asked Mae. They were at the lake, getting clean.

“Actually, humans don´t shower next to each other… ideally” the human responded.

“Why?” Case, Soona´s friend interrogated.

“We are shy”

Mae removed her clothes and step into the water, joining the other two females, who were fighting playfully.

“Are you mom?” Case asked.

“What?”

“Your chest”

Mae felt self-conscious, she braced herself, covering up her breast and looking away.

“No, I´m not a mom”

“Oh. Echo thing then”

Soona pinched her friend.

“Chest is big” Soona explained, trying to get Mae out of her shy shelf “Only moms get chest that big… to feed”

“Oh” the human girl said, she uncovered herself, starting to scrub the dirt out of her skin “Yeah, for humans is normal. Most girls have this. You don’t have to be a mom”

They continued getting clean, and when they were done, they relaxed in the grass, watching the sunset.

“I know nobody… sees beauty in you” Case said “but I do. I think you are… pretty”

Mae stayed silent for a few seconds, not sure if she should feel offended.

“I see the beauty too” said Soona “Your body… is different, hairless, thin. But there is beauty… in that. Even if you… are not like ape”

The human smiled, she felt safe, appreciated, loved.

She felt also pretty. And that was nice

--------

“Where were you, Mae?!” Noa asked. He came running to her and almost hug her. Luckily, he stopped in time “Hair is wet”

“Calm down. I was taking a shower, with the girls” Mae said, almost ignoring him and passing by him

“What? You took shower recently” the ape started to follow her into her room in one of the towers.

“Yeah, humans need to shower often. Be grateful, otherwise you would be begging me to take a shower”

When they got into her shared room, she stopped him right at the entrance.

“Goodnight Noa” she said with a smile. This would be fun.

“Wait what?” the male got confused, she wasn’t going to let him in? Maybe chat a little bit like other nights?

“I share this room, Noa. I can´t just invite a boy whenever I want” she had this grin on her face… the ape catch on her game.

“Oh, I see. Well, if I cannot come in, maybe you should come out” he responded back, leaning into the wall.

“And go where?” Mae asked with a funny smile.

“You´ll see”

“Would there be climbing? You know I prefer walking”

“Do not worry. We take horses” he said. Mae closed the door of her room, ready to follow the Eagle Clan leader.

She started to walk when a hand stopped her.

“And by the way, if we climb, just get on my back, Echo” Noa whispered in her ear.

-------

“Are you allowed to run away in the middle of the night?” Mae asked.

They were in a green field with knee-length grass walking under the moon light and a torch.

“I am not running away” the ape said distracted, looking down to the grass, concern in his face.

“What´s wrong?”

“They should be dancing”

“What?”

“I wanted to show you the lighting dancers”

Mae stared at the ape. Was he loosing his mind?

“Wait!” Noa spoke “They are here”

Right when the girl was about to make a sarcastic comment, a firefly emerge from the grass, shining bright. Then, more of them started to fill the air. Dancing.

“Have you seen one of these?” Noa asked her

“No. I read about them. But I have never… woah”

The human watched fascinated how those little insects were producing light and just flying around, illuminating the dark night. It was truly amazing.

“Thank you for showing me this” Mae said with happiness.

“Anytime”

The fireflies kept dancing and Noa kept falling.

[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

[willowsnook]

He isn't you

salami, swiss cheese, and white bread please <3

joe burrow x gf!reader

he isn't you

The easiest thing about dating Joe Burrow was that he wasn’t the possessive type. Some girls liked that in a partner, but you found it suffocating. You didn’t need him to mark his territory; your connection was clear without that.

This dynamic was perfect for your busy life as an ESPN reporter. Covering college football meant you were often on the road, but Joe was fully supportive. When you were both home, you made time for each other, and when you weren’t, you checked in often enough.

One quiet morning, you felt Joe wrap his arms around you from behind as you cooked scrambled eggs and sausage for breakfast.

“Morning, sweetheart,” he mumbled sleepily.

You turned to smile at him, giving him a quick kiss. “Hi, Joey.”

He grabbed coffee for both of you. “What’s on the agenda today?” he asked.

“We have a new guy filling in this week,” you explained. “So, a longer prep session.”

“Someone you know?”

“No, he’s from a smaller affiliate, so we haven’t crossed paths.”

After breakfast, you kissed Joe on the cheek, grabbed your coffee, and headed out the door to the ESPN office. There, you were set to meet the new colleague, Harrison.

Outside, you spotted a man with curly brown hair and green eyes waiting by the door. “Are you Harrison?” you asked, shaking his hand as he smiled warmly.

“Yes, nice to meet you!” he replied cheerfully.

The day flew by. Harrison was easygoing, and you enjoyed discovering you had mutual friends and had even attended rival high schools. That evening, you told Joe all about your day and your new colleague.

“...I’m looking forward to working with him this weekend,” you finished, noticing Joe’s slight frown as he poked at his food.

“Awesome,” he murmured, not meeting your eyes.

“Are you okay?” you asked, sensing his mood shift.

“Yeah, just tired.”

“Was practice hard today?” You asked, taking another bite of your dinner. 

“A little,” he said, subconsciously digging into his shoulder muscle. 

“Let me give you a massage after we clean up then,” you offered and he smirked. “Just to help you relax.”

“I can think of another way you can help me relax,” he flirted, and you rolled your eyes and laughed.

-----------------------------------------------

The next Monday, Joe was not happy as he scrolled through his Twitter feed, having been tagged in tons of tweets about you and your colleague Harrison. 

“User1: Wow, the chemistry between Y/N and the new guy is unreal. Are we intruding?” “User2: Wonder how Joe Burrow feels watching his girlfriend get ‘rizzed’ on national TV.” “User3: Joe took two Ls this weekend: losing to the Eagles and seeing his girl flirting with her colleague on air.”

Joe knew you hadn’t meant anything by it, but watching those clips felt like a punch to the chest. He decided he’d stay out for the night, texting you that he was still with the team and might crash at Ja’Marr’s. You frowned, confused, knowing he’d been home just an hour earlier. His texts had been scarce all weekend, and his silence stung.

Y/N: Is something wrong? Are you mad at me? JB: It’s fine.

Something was definitely off, but he wasn’t ready to talk. Trying to shake off your worry, you settled in for the night alone.

-------------------------------------

The next morning, you buried yourself in work to distract from Joe’s cold shoulder. Harrison popped by your office, noticing your downcast expression.

“Everything okay?” he asked, taking a seat across from you.

“Joe’s mad at me, but he won’t say why,” you sighed, recounting the strange tension between you and Joe.

Just then, Joe appeared at your door, his eyes narrowing as they fell on Harrison. As you introduced them, Joe’s handshake was noticeably firm, and Harrison shot you a wide-eyed look.

You looked from him to Harrison, and it all was finally clicking in place, which instantly made you giggle. 

You smiled sweetly at Joe. “Oh, I was just telling Harrison that it’d be nice to have him and his partner David over for dinner sometime.”

Joe’s hand went slack, his surprise evident. “Yeah... that’d be great,” he stammered, dropping Harrison’s hand, relief settling over him.

The tension dissolved, and you couldn’t help but chuckle as Joe’s jealousy melted away, leaving him sheepish.

After Harrison left, Joe lingered around you in the office, quieter than usual but clearly wanting to say something. You leaned against the desk, watching him nervously run a hand through his hair.

Finally, he sighed. “Look, I know it’s stupid, but seeing you with him… I couldn’t help it. Watching people online talk about how good you two looked together…” He trailed off, his expression softening as he took your hands in his.

“Joe,” you said gently, squeezing his hands, “I like Harrison as a colleague, and he’s a great guy, but he isn’t you. No one could be.”

He smiled then, a hint of his usual confidence returning as he finally seemed to believe it.

You stepped closer, wrapping your arms around him. “You’re the one I come home to,” you murmured. “The only one.”

He pulled you in tightly, his voice quiet as he admitted, “I know. I just… needed to hear it.”

With the last bit of tension fading away, you leaned up, pressing a reassuring kiss to his lips. He wasn’t possessive by nature, but every now and then, a reminder didn’t hurt. And maybe you didn’t mind giving him one.

[hopelesslygaysstuff]

October 21 - Ruined Orgasm

pairing: dom!Wanda x sub!Reader

summary: Wanda punishes you by controlling your orgasm... then ruining it.

content warnings: restraints, vibrator

word count: 1.1k+

masterlist

comments and reblogs are always appreciated! happy reading ♡

“Wanda I swear to god-”

A laugh sounds out from behind you, and you sag slightly in your restraints as the vibrator pressed against you turns off. You’re standing, tied spread eagle to an x-cross, your hole leaking down against the toy. 

“Oh my poor pet,” Wanda says, her voice amused as she circles back around you. “If you want something you should ask nicely.”

Leaning in, she licks a long, wet strip from your collarbones to your ear, collecting your sweat on her tongue. You can’t help but shudder at the feeling, wanting her to touch you more. Her hands gently stroke your damp skin, her fingernails dragging over your trembling stomach and up to your hard nipples, tugging slightly and smiling at your responding groan. 

“You’ve been keeping me on edge for… hours,” you say, your voice strained as Wanda turns the vibrator on again. It’s on the lowest setting this time, your clit throbbing furiously at the stimulation. 

“And I’ll keep you like this for as long as I want,” Wanda’s voice is suddenly cold, and your eyes widen. “Remind me, pet. Why am I doing this?”

You open your mouth to speak right as Wanda turns the vibrator up again. A choked moan comes out instead of words, and you see Wanda smirk slightly. Her fingers tap your lips, a silent reminder to answer her question.

“You’re doing this because-”

“Ah ah,” she chides, turning the vibrator up again. “Use a proper sentence, I didn’t spend all that time training you just for you to forget it as soon as your slutty little brain turns off.”

You let out a whimper at that, fighting against the fuzziness threatening to overtake you as pleasure courses through you. Your words are slurred slightly together as you speak, your voice strained. “Mommy is punishing me because I broke a rule and came without permission this morning.”

“Exactly,” Wanda purrs, her hands gentle as they tease your nipples. “And Mommy was so nice this morning, letting you hump her thigh all sleepy. But you had to go and ruin it like a brat. Did I not train you well enough?”

“No,” your voice is slightly desperate now. “You trained me well I just… it was my fault, not yours. I just wasn’t thinking… getting too needy and forgetting my place.”

A wide smile breaks out on Wanda’s face. “That’s right,” she coos, her hand gently cupping your cheek. “You just need Mommy to do all the thinking for you, huh? Mommy is in charge of all your orgasms, so she’ll have to be stricter about when she lets you cum, isn’t that right?”

You nod, not quite knowing what she means but not wanting to disagree with her. 

“Good, because Mommy always knows what's best, doesn’t she?”

Nodding again, you watch her with wide eyes. You can feel an orgasm rising, and hold yourself extra still so she doesn’t notice. 

“Use your words.” Her voice is sharp. 

“Yes Mommy,” you speak hurriedly, noticing the way she glances down toward your hips. “You always know what’s best.”

Wanda doesn’t respond, simply nodding and turning the vibrator up a bit higher. Her fingers lightly trail over your stomach, feeling your muscles clenching in anticipation. Green eyes lock with yours, her eyebrows raising as she leans in, her lips mere inches from yours. 

“Beg.”

You let out a moan, your muscles beginning to shake. “Please, please let me cum. I need it, I-”

Cutting yourself off, you try to rut harder against the vibrator, feeling your orgasm coming quickly. It’s seconds away, you just need two… more…

Wanda turns the vibrator off, pulling it away from your hips as you groan in frustration. She smiles at you, the look in her eyes dark as she watches you pant as your pleasure fades. 

“You’ll have to do better than that,” she says, placing the vibrator back against your sensitive, aching clit. It feels even better than before, your hole leaking around the toy as Wanda begins to press it further against you. The pressure only serves to elevate the vibrations, making your nerves feel like they’ve been set on fire. 

You begin to speak again, but before you can get any words out, Wanda shoves her fingers in your mouth. The weight of them presses against your tongue, and you obediently close your lips around them and begin to suck. 

“I love it when you get like this,” Wanda murmurs, her eyes intensely focused on your face. She watches your eyes as they begin to glaze over, the vibrations increasing steadily against your most sensitive parts. “So obedient, so docile for me.”

The only thing you can do is moan in agreement. You love it when she treats you like this, when you get so needy and submissive that you become completely reliant on Wanda. The only thing on your mind is your orgasm, and you love that she has control over if and when you get to come. 

“Do you want to cum, baby?” Wanda’s voice is low and soothing. Her green eyes are warm when you manage to make eye contact. 

Nodding quickly, you moan around her fingers as she begins thrusting them in and out of your mouth. The vibrator speeds up, the stimulation feeling perfect against you. The feeling of your orgasm looms, and you resist the urge to hump the toy like before, knowing that Wanda would disapprove. 

Smiling, Wanda turns the vibrator all the way up, loving the way you throw your head back and groan. You’re close, she can tell, but she doesn’t want you to get the satisfaction of an orgasm. No, she wants you to truly suffer, to truly understand how bad it was to cum without her permission. She wants to show you the kind of power she holds when she controls your orgasms. 

“Cum for Mommy,” she murmurs, her fingers flexing around the toy. She presses it hard against you, your clit throbbing and aching, the pleasure building up and up and up…

Your orgasm hits, your clit throbbing against the vibrator as you begin to spasm. As soon as the pleasure begins to pour through you, Wanda rips the toy away, stepping back. 

She watches with sadistic glee as you squirm and thrash in your restraints, your clit throbbing uselessly as your orgasm is ruined. You leak down your inner thighs, tears of frustration running down your face. All pleasure fades, your body tired from the hours of build-up, only to have it ruined at the last second. 

“That was fun,” Wanda says, and you scowl in disagreement. “Ah ah, no more attitude from you, darling. You just earned yourself another ruined orgasm.”

Another one?

Fuck.

[loonylupinblack3]

This Isn't Over

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: toxic!rafe, swearing, physical alteration, hints to domestic violence

Summary: you accidently spend the night at your friends house and Rafe has something to say about it

Word count: 2.2k

A/N: more rafe 🤭🤭 this one has him being a little (😬) toxic so be warned!!

You’d fallen asleep at John B’s house. You knew that because it was barely 8am and your phone was ringing its head off, a sleuth of calls and messages lighting up your screen. You let out a groan, rolling over on the pull out mattress in John B’s living room, untangling yourself from Kiara whose limbs were spread out like an eagle on the bed, and picked up your phone.

Your eyes were bleary as you blinked at the screen, already knowing who was sending you all these messages. Like you’d expected, you saw Rafe’s name all over your phone, missed calls and countless messages lining up your home screen.

You’d made the mistake of telling Rafe of your plans to visit John B and his friends last night. You’d had a good relationship with them a couple months ago but had started to drift apart when you and Rafe started seeing each other. Wanting to remedy that, you’d all planned a bit of a party, just between friends, to catch up.

Rafe hadn’t been happy when he found out. At first he told you not to go, adamantly raving about how crazy John B and his sister were. When you informed him you would be going, because they were your friends and you’d known them way before Rafe started disliking them, he made you promise two things to him. One, that you wouldn’t drink, and two, that he’d be able to see you the next morning.

Looking around with groggy eyes and noting the many empty beer cans, you realised belatedly that you’d broken both your promises.

“Shit,” you mumbled, sitting upright and rubbing your eyes.

JJ gave a groan from the mattress a few steps away. “I will smash whoever’s phone that is if they don’t shut it up right now.”

You gave a sheepish smile even though he couldn’t see you, noticing the other’s restlessness too. “Sorry guys, my bad. Rafe’s just texting me.”

That caught their attention, JJ sitting upright immediately and the others stirring into separate states of awareness. You winced; you should have known better than to mention Rafe, because for all that your boyfriend didn’t like them, your friends disliked him more.

“What’s got him so riled up?” John B asked, a hint of suspicion in his voice.

You cleared your throat, trying to grab your bearings as you looked around for your shoes. “Oh, I was just supposed to meet him this morning and forgot so…”

Pope raised his eyebrows. “So he’s blowing up your phone? And why were you supposed to meet him at-” Pope checked his watch. “-8:07am?”

You hesitated. “Well, I didn’t set a time, it's just he wasn’t expecting me to sleep over so he probably came early to see me and found me missing.”

Sarah gave you a look, probably the most tired out of all of them but still in her right mind enough to tell you, “that���s like, a walking red flag.”

You laughed slightly, though it was forced. “He just cares. Speaking of, I should probably, y’know, answer his texts.”

There were mumbles and mutterings but no one spoke against you as you looked at your phone, reading the most recent texts from Rafe.

Where are you?

Why aren’t you home?

Did you stay at John B’s for the night? You better not have had anything

What the fuck Y/n. Where are you?

I’m coming to John B’s

Shit. Rafe couldn’t come here. There were so many ill feelings with him in the mix and you didn’t want anything to unfold between him and your friends. 

You texted him back hastily but he didn’t reply, telling you he was already on the way. Shit. 

“He’s coming here?!” Kiaria read, leaning over your shoulder. You were quick to hide your phone but the damage had already been done, all of your friends certainly wide awake now.

JJ let out a disbelieving shock. “Wait, wait, Rafe Cameron is coming here? Did I get that right?”

You cringed. “Um. Kind of? But I’ll meet him outside, you guys won’t have to see him at all-”

Rapid pounding on the door cut you off. You saw Sarah pale and couldn’t help but feel guilty. How fast had Rafe driven to get here?!

“John B,” Rafe called through the door. “John B open up.”

It was as if a switch had been flipped. Instead of your friend John B who teased you and begrudgingly accepted your choice in boyfriend, it was John B who hated Rafe, a dark look in his eyes as his hands curled into fists by his side. No one spoke. “I know you’re in there!” Rafe’s voice got louder; he was shouting by now. “Where’s Y/n? What’d you do, huh? You hurt her? Because I swear to God if you did-”

John B was up and striding to the front door before any of you could stop him. He was like a man possessed, his usual calm persona replaced with an indescribable anger that could only come from countless bad experiences.

He opened the door with a slam, barely avoiding hitting Rafe who didn’t look pleased with the fact. “You think I’d hurt Y/n? She’s my best friend.”

Rafe let out a low scoff, and you could tell he was pissed just by the tone of his voice. You loathed to see the anger on his face. “I wouldn’t put it past you. Where is she?”

John B seemed to still be stuck on the fact Rafe thought so low of him. “I’ve known her since we were four,” he argued. 

“You’re a Pogue,” was Rafe’s immediate response.

“She’s a Pogue!”

Rafe was silent for a moment. “Where is she?”

“No, let’s go back to the fact you think I’d be the one to hurt her-”

“Where is she?!”

You heard the sounds of a skirmish and immediately went for the door, as did the rest of your friends. You should have gone earlier but didn’t want to have to be in the middle of whatever had been going on with Rafe and John B.

When you turned the corner you saw Rafe and John B wrestling. Rafe must have tried to get in and John B forcefully stopped him, which led to John B pinned against the wall with Rafe’s arm pressing on his throat. They were both glaring at each other, wearing similar expressions of loathing on their faces. Rafe looked like an entirely different person, a hint of something wild and scary hidden in his eyes.

“Rafe, stop.”

At the sound of your voice Rafe paused, the pressure on John B’s throat lessening. He turned to look at you, his whole face softening at the sight. There was a look of relief on his face that had guilt eating at you as he took his arm away from John B’s throat, the boy coughing as fresh air entered his lungs.

“Y/n,” Rafe breathed, taking a few steps towards you.

Until your other friends took a step forward, crowding you behind them. The same hostility took over his face, the wild look you’d seen in his eyes increased, his pupils dilating slightly.

“I’m fine,” you whispered frantically to your friends. “Seriously. Let him through.”

You admired your friend's loyalty. It warmed your heart to see them caring about you that much, even when faced with this quite frankly terrifying version of Rafe you hadn’t experienced. It was misplaced though, because Rafe would never hurt you.

They reluctantly did as you said, JJ needing some hasling from Kiaria before moving away. And as soon as they did the softness was back in Rafe’s expression and he was in front of you, wrapping you in a tight hug, hands holding you as close as possible to him as he kissed the top of your head.

“You alright?” he murmured into your hair.

You nodded into his chest, his comfort sinking into your very bones. Rafe seemed to act the same, his tense posture relaxing as he held you in his arms, inhaling your scent and letting the comforting smell of you calm him down.

He pulled back suddenly, a hint of irritation on his face. “Why didn’t you answer my texts?”

You looked down guiltily, feeling like a child being reprimanded by a teacher. “I was asleep.”

“Here?”

You flinched at the stern tone of his voice. “Yeah…”

“Did you drink?” When you didn’t answer him he grabbed your chin, forcing you to look at him. “Did. You. Drink?”

“That’s enough man,” JJ spoke, stepping forward again.

Rafe shot him a dirty look. “Stay out of this Maybank.”

“No I’m serious, stop manhandling her,” he insisted, gesturing to Rafe’s fingers still curled around your chin.

“Don’t tell me what to do with my own girlfriend, you pathetic little Pogue,” Rafe hissed.

You let out a gasp, pulling away from your boyfriend. “What the fuck Rafe? Don’t call him that!”

Rafe turned his murderous expression on you, and for a second it stayed murderous, causing a sense of unease to start churning in your gut. It lessened to irritation but you couldn’t get the anger of his previous expression out of your mind, the feeling that in that moment he would have done anything to get his way.

“Y/n-” he started, a hint of frustration in his voice, but JJ didn’t even let him finish.

He moved forward, placing his hand on your stomach to gently guide you behind him. You only let him because of your sudden hesitance around your boyfriend, but this seemed to only make his mood worse.

“Get your hands off my fucking girlfriend.” Rafe surged forward and you let out a gasp, barely moving in time as the two men toppled to the ground, fists being thrown and legs kicking. You were screaming at them to stop but neither man listened to you. John B finally managed to pry Rafe away, only for your boyfriend to immediately turn to him.

You ran into the middle of it before he could, and you swear to God even after recognising you for a second there you were sure he was still going to go for the hit. He managed to restrain himself, however, and said through very gritted teeth, “Y/n, get out of the way.”

You stood your ground, refusing to budge. “Stop hurting my friends.”

He scoffed, looking at you like you were a naive child. “Friends? You consider them friends, Y/n? You can’t trust them. They don’t care about you like I do. No one does. The only person you can trust is me.”

“You sound fucking psycho man,” JJ sneered, blood running from his probably broken nose. He wiped it away as he spoke, smearing it over his face.

“Mind your damn business,” Rafe snapped. He turned to you, grabbing your arm almost desperately. “Let’s just go, yeah baby? We’ll leave, and forget this shit ever happened.”

He started leading you out of the house and you let him, until you were standing in the doorway with him out of the building, which was when you stopped, taking your arm away from him. Rafe looked at you questioningly. 

“I’m gonna stay here for a while longer, Rafe.”

You watched him still, hands flex before curling into tight fists, his jaw clenched. 

“What?” that one word, so quiet you could barely hear it, filled you with overwhelming dread. You’d never heard this tone before, this quiet, deadly tone. He was always explosively angry. This felt like the calm before the storm.

“I’m going to stay here,” you forced yourself to say, grateful your voice came out even.

Rafe took a deep breath, thoughts spinning in his head, before giving a yell and kicking the empty bottles on the steps of the porch, causing the glass to smash and shatter. “Are you serious right now? Are you fucking serious Y/n?! After everything I’ve done for you? You were a dirty fucking Pogue before me that no one wanted to touch. I made you into something and you repay me by doing this?!”

He was yelling. Screaming. Eyes full of rage focused solely on you as he moved forward to grab you. Your friends were quicker, John B, JJ, Pope all standing in front of you. Kiara and Sarah both grabbed each of your hands, giving you the support you so desperately needed.

“Time to go, Rafe,” John B said, voice low. “You can’t take on all of us.”

Rafe knew he was right. You could see him, the fight in him not so much deflating as it was changing, realising he wasn’t going to win by brute force alone. He looked at you behind your friends, a frightening anger in his eyes. What was worse was you could see through it, to the sickening desperation underneath, the knowledge that he needed you ringing in your head.

You dropped your gaze, guilt and fear warring inside you. Rafe let out a low scoff, hurt and disbelief coating it. You heard footsteps and risked looking up, finding Rafe leaving the porch. At the edge he turned back though, eyes finding you immediately, and spoke in a low, almost threatening tone before leaving without another glance:

“This isn’t over.”

[nationalanthcm]

Gold rush | Robb Stark

𝜗𝜚 "what must it be like to grow up that beautiful? with your hair falling into place like dominoes"

summary: robb loves spending his time simply admiring his wife. he just loves her so much, he can't help it. and now that she's pregnant with their firstborn...he wishes he could spend every second of his days with her

pairing: robb stark x pregnant!wife!reader

genre: fluff

side notes: english is not my native language, so i apologise in advance for any grammatical/spelling mistakes. if you find any error, feel free to correct me as long as you keep it respectful of course. this is my ever first piece of writing, so don't expect it to be a masterpiece lmao

"i see me padding 'cross your wooden floors, with my eagles t-shirt hanging from the door" 𝜗𝜚

The bright afternoon sunlight entered the room through the windows, bathing her in a soft, incandescent glow, making her almost like an angel designed by the Gods themselves. Robb has been standing there for quite a while, leaning against the doorway, simply staring at her as she read on the bed the two of them share.

This is something he often does, he usually finds himself admiring his wife from afar, simply staring at her as he wonders how she could be so beautiful, not only on the outside, but on the inside as well, and how he could've gotten so lucky that her heart chose to love him back.

Robb had known the woman that would eventually become his wife since he was young, he was about twelve when his eyes first laid on her. She had been padding around Winterfell, just outside the castle walls, her hands holding some sort of flower bouquet. It looked messy, and so did she, her dress was dirty with mud and her hair was a bit tangled, but he had been captivated by her nonetheless. He remembers that day as if it was yesterday, he remembers the way her cheeks got tinted with the lightest shade of pink when he spoke to her...he remembers it all as if it had been just yesterday. They both cherish that day a lot and often look back to it, as it was the day where their story started.

His wife's gentle voice snaps Robb out of his thoughts and his eyes refocus on her shape. She's staring at him, her book placed beside her, one of her hands pressed on the tiny bump in her belly. Robb can't help but smile at the sight. Gods, she really is beautiful. How could she be this beautiful? Robb really believes he could spend the rest of his day standing there, simply admiring the way she looks, even more so now that, on her belly, rests their firstborn, Robb's future heir. He also remembers the day she told him the news very clearly. He had been over the moon to find out they were expecting a baby.

"Forgive me, my love, I didn't notice you. How long have you been standing there? Not for too long, I hope." She says, sounding a little apologetic.

Robb's already walking up to the bed, settling down beside her, his body facing hers. Now that she's noticed him, he doesn't have to stand so far away, he can enjoy her presence from up close. He loves these moments before dinner, where he can relax after a long day of duties, simply enjoying the company of the woman he loves.

"Don't worry, beautiful, it hasn't been long and I was enjoying the sight of you as always." He answers, his tone equally soft, one of his large hands going to rest on top of her belly.

The girl only laughs quietly at his words, her head coming to rest on Robb's shoulder. She's aware of how much he likes to simply stare at her. She lost count of how many times she found her husband entranced by the sight of her, quietly watching her in the privacy of their chambers.

"How are you today? Has the little one been bothering you much?" Robb asks her after a beat of silence.

His wife can only smile at that, tilting her head to look up at him. She finds it endearing how he worries so much for her well being. She's only three months along in the pregnancy, the babe doesn't even move yet, but Robb always asks about her comfort, wanting to make sure she's as well as possible. They've both always been like that...always checking in on each other, making sure the other was okay, even back when they were younger and only shared a sweet, innocent friendship.

"I'm alright, my love, nothing's been too uncomfortable for now. I think it's far too early for that...my baby bump is barely even showing." She reassures, looking down at her belly.

Her baby bump is in fact barely noticeable, but it's there. Robb loves it, he loves to see the way her body is slowly changing, adapting to the small life that's growing inside. He didn't think it possible, but Robb finds himself loving her even more, because now she's not only his wife, but also the mother of his child.

"That's good, our little one is well behaved, doesn't make his mother suffer." Robb says jokingly, laughing quietly at his own joke. "Do you think it's a boy or a girl?"

Robb knows it's still too early to know that for certain the gender of the babe, but he finds himself wondering about that often and he's sure his wife does too. The maester says they'll be able to find out the gender soon enough.

"I don't know, I honestly have no idea. My mother says that some women have some sort of instinct but...I have no idea. I'm hoping it's a girl, though."

"A girl?" Robb wonders. When he wonders about it, Robb finds himself secretly wishing for a boy, but he'd also be fine with the babe being a little girl, of course. He just wants the pregnancy to go smoothly and for the babe to be healthy.

"Yes, just think about it...I'd be able to dress her up in the prettiest gowns, braid her hair..." His wife rambles, her voice filled with affection.

Robb can picture her words clearly in his mind. It's an endearing thought...to picture his wife tending to their young daughter. That thought alone almost makes him change his mind fully and solely wish for a girl.

"...I'd also be fine with a boy, of course...though I suppose he'd spend more time with you, training with swords and all..." She continues.

That brings a smile to Robb's face. He'd love that, to have a son to spend time with, to train him and teach him everything his own father taught him.

"What about you? Boy or girl?" His wife asks him, now staring up at him again.

"I'm fine with either of the two, but I've been hoping it's a boy."

She hums in acknowledgment to his words, her body resting against his. A comfortable silence falls upon the two of them and she picks up her book. Reading has always been her favourite thing to do, according to her own words. Robb goes back to doing one of his favourite things as well. He admires her quietly, watching the way her brows furrow in concentration. Once again, he finds himself thanking the Gods for sending him such a blessing. He has a beautiful, gentle wife and a child on the way...life couldn't be sweeter.

[pierregazly]

always the prize, always the winner ꨄ logan sargeant smau

logan sargeant x pop star!reader

in which logan is actually pretty okay with being known as the biggest pop star in the world's arm candy. who would complain about that, really?

yourusername

liked by logansargeant, lilymhe, oscarpiastri, and 4,539,209 others

yourusername back doing what i do best!! (watching this handsome man get asked solely about me in interviews and then singing songs about it) (ps i love you) (pps yes that is a song)

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logansargeant why are you so obsessed with me?

logansargeant im not complaining btw cause like... never stop?

logansargeant but also pps cant wait to hear it 🤍

yourusername just for this attitude you're the LAST to hear it now (handsome)

username still never gonna understand how LOGAN SARGEANT bagged ms ma'am but okay! 🤭

username a couple mutually obsessed with each other? (gag) (obsessed)

oscarpiastri i get asked questions about you too?

yourusername yes and your one word answers are SO riveting.

username why is no one talking about the SONG??? PS I LOVE YOU???? im going to throw up

username it's going to be the most disgustingly loving obsessive song ever and it's all about this american MAN

username never seen a man luckier than logan sargeant

logansargeant has posted a story

tagged logansargeant

liked by logansargeant, oscarpiastri, alex_albon, and 3,201,326 others

yourusername nothing makes me happier than running into you in the most random of places. always there when i need you most 🫶🏻

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logansargeant i would meet you in the middle of a croc swamp if i had to

logansargeant not a snake pit though, you're on your own for that one kid

yourusername you're on your own kid... what a song title 🤭

alex_albon we have a race next week??? in australia??? why are you in america

logansargeant 🤫

username god these two make me sick!!! (affectionate)

username if they ever break up... imagine the album ugh. i need it

username maybe let's not wish a breakup on anyone??? especially these two?? wtf

lilymhe begging u to release the songs even if they're about logan

yourusername they're actually about you?? 🫶🏻

tagged logansargeant and yourusername

liked by username, username, username, and others

ynupdates during an interview before the melbourne gp this weekend, logan gushed about finally getting to see yn after a few weeks apart, and when asked if she'd be attending any of the upcoming gp's all he did was smile and say 'she could be here right now, but i'm not going to be the one to expose her?' - so, if anyone is at the melbourne gp be sure to keep your eyes out!

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username oh he SO flew to san fran so she wouldn't have to fly to australia alone.. king energy??

username i know he always says he's the winner but that man would walk through hell for her so idk

username omg omg im gonna be at the gp this weekend!!! i'll keep an extra eye on everything and anything william's

username imagine going to a FORMULA 1 RACE and running into THEE pop star yn

username logan it's your weekend to get some points!!! impress your gf, be the prize and the winner for once!! (at least get points)

yourusername has posted a story

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replies

logansargeant not you posting my garage but not even coming to see me??? hell is a place on earth and it's where i am right now

yourusername literally my words every time im away from you??? go win points love u my handsome lil eagle man <333

logansargeant gross <3

liked by yourusername, alex_albon, oscarpiastri, and others

logansargeant LFGGGGG!! first points of the year, and a 5th place finish at the melbourne gp!! let's go up from here!! honoured to have had my best friend here, always gonna be a winner when you're involved angel 💗

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yourusername literally wreck my plans, THAT'S my man

yourusername so fricken proud of you handsome!!! knew calling you my lil eagle man would win you some points

yourusername love you so much pls

logansargeant love you more pretty <3

williamsracing that's OUR shared comfort american man. it's all up from here!

username LFGGGG

username RAH RAH WTF IS A KM 🦅

username 🦅🦅🦅

tagged logansargeant

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yourusername in honour of my boyfriend, my new album 'lover' will be out 24.03.14 - an ode to the man who has shown me how you can be a prize and a winner all in one. logan, i love you more than anything. always.

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logansargeant and to think i always said it was a joke when i asked you to write an album for me.

logansargeant i love you to the moon and back, i know i've heard every song but i can't wait to hear it again. you're the best ever

yourusername god. i'm so lucky to be known as yours lo 💗

oscarpiastri if anyone asks me about this. one word answers only. riveting.

yourusername riveting?

oscarpiastri riveting.

username I KNEW IT

username THERE WAS WAY TOO MANY REFS TO NEW SONGS

username god this is gonna make me feel so single. i literally can't wait.

ynnation love songs for the ages, we know it. an icon, and congrats to logan for getting his first points of the year!!

username this is SO for all the logan haters, ain't none of y'all ever gonna make our girl feel the way he does!!!

authors notes

this was so self-indulgent bc i haven't written in forever but im going through a logan phase. i hope you all love it 💗 i also lost my tag list so pls enjoy regardless ily

[librababe99]

request: jason todd and reader are babysitting (damian, a random child, you choose) and someone confuses both of you as parents and jason is struck by how much he doesn’t hate being mistaken for the father of your child.

Hi anon! Honestly this is such a cute idea🥹 lucky for you I was able to whip up something....

Title: Unspoken Bonds summary: Jason, reader, and Damian, spend a day at the Gotham Aviary, indulging Damian's fascination with birds of prey. As they bond, a passing stranger comments on how cute their "family" looks, unknowingly sparking something deep within Jason.

The morning sunlight filtered through the windows of Wayne Manor, casting a golden glow over the grand living room. You were sitting on the couch, waiting for Jason to finish lacing up his boots while Damian stood near the door, arms crossed with his usual impatient glare.

“I still don’t understand why I need the two of you to accompany me,” Damian grumbled. “I’m perfectly capable of going alone.”

Jason chuckled as he straightened up, meeting Damian’s glare with a teasing smirk. “Oh, I’m sure you are, demon spawn. But if you want to keep Alfred from locking down the Batcave after the last time you snuck out, you’ll play along.”

Damian huffed, crossing his arms tighter. “That was your fault. If you hadn’t—”

“Okay, enough,” you interrupted, standing up and grabbing your bag. “Let’s just enjoy the day, alright? We’re taking you somewhere you’ve wanted to go, Damian. Be happy.”

The teen gave you a skeptical glance, but there was a hint of curiosity in his eyes. You had planned a surprise for him, and despite his stubbornness, Damian’s love for adventure always won out in the end.

After a short drive into Gotham, the three of you arrived at the Gotham Aviary, a hidden gem in the city—a large sanctuary home to all kinds of birds of prey. Damian’s eyes lit up the moment he stepped out of the car. He’d been talking about visiting this place for months now, and even though he’d never admit it, he was thrilled.

“Impressed?” you asked with a grin.

Damian looked away, trying to mask his excitement. “It’s acceptable.”

You exchanged a knowing look with Jason, who just shook his head with a laugh. “He’ll be bouncing off the walls in no time,” Jason whispered to you, and you playfully nudged him as the three of you made your way inside.

The hours passed peacefully. Damian immersed himself in learning about the birds, engaging in long conversations with the caretakers and volunteers about falconry and raptor behaviors. Jason stayed by your side, his hand occasionally brushing against yours, a quiet smile always playing on his lips as he watched Damien be... well, Damian.

“I think he’s actually enjoying himself,” Jason mused quietly as Damien watched a golden eagle take flight.

“Of course, he is,” you replied, leaning into Jason a little. “He may act tough, but he’s still a kid.”

Jason hummed in agreement, his arm slipping around your waist as the two of you stood there in a comfortable silence, watching Damian.

As the three of you left the aviary later in the afternoon, the sun beginning to set, you passed a family with a young child in tow. The mother, smiling brightly, looked over at the three of you and said, “Oh, you have such a cute family! Reminds me of my own when we first came here.”

You blinked, slightly caught off guard, but before you could respond, Jason froze beside you. He didn't say anything, but you felt his grip on your hand tighten, the tension in his body suddenly palpable.

The woman continued on her way, none the wiser to the storm of emotions that her innocent comment had stirred.

Jason didn’t speak for a few moments, but you could tell something had shifted. His usually calm and teasing demeanor had faded into something more serious, his expression distant. Damian, thankfully, was already distracted with something else and hadn’t noticed.

“Jay?” you asked softly, stopping and turning to face him. “You okay?”

Jason’s gaze lingered on the sidewalk for a second longer before he looked up at you, his eyes searching yours as if trying to find the right words. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly. “Yeah, I’m fine, babe. It’s just... what that woman said.”

You tilted your head, gently encouraging him to continue.

“The whole... family thing,” Jason said, his voice unusually quiet. “It just... caught me off guard, I guess. I never really thought about it before. Having... a family.”

The weight of his words settled between you both, and you could see the vulnerability behind his eyes, something Jason rarely let anyone see. For all the bravado and snark he carried, there were parts of him—damaged, fragile parts—that still grappled with his past, his death, and his complex relationship with Bruce.

You reached out and cupped his cheek, thumb gently tracing his skin. “What are you feeling, Jay?” you asked softly, knowing better than to push him too hard.

He closed his eyes for a moment, leaning into your touch as if grounding himself. When he opened them again, his expression was calmer, but his emotions were still raw. “It’s not that I’m scared of it. I’m not freaked out about the idea of having a family with you.” He paused, searching for the right words. “It’s... more like, I didn’t know how much I wanted that. Until now.”

Your breath caught slightly at his admission. Jason wasn’t someone who easily allowed himself to be vulnerable. His life had been filled with pain and loss, and the idea of stability—of a family—was something that had always seemed out of reach for him. But now, in this quiet moment, he was letting himself feel it. The possibility. The hope.

You smiled gently, brushing a lock of hair away from his face. “You’d be a great dad, you know that, right?”

Jason let out a quiet, almost disbelieving laugh. “Yeah? You think so?”

“I know so.”

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into his chest, his lips brushing your forehead as he held you close. You could feel the rapid beat of his heart beneath his jacket, his breath warm against your skin.

Damian, noticing you two lagging behind, turned around and raised an eyebrow. “Are you two seriously having a moment right now?”

Jason chuckled, releasing you but keeping his arm draped over your shoulders. “Relax, demon spawn. Just figuring out if you’d make a good big brother one day.”

Damian’s eyes widened, and he scowled. “Tt, not even funny.”

You laughed, ruffling Damian’s hair as you caught up with him. “You’d be a great big brother, too, Damian. Imagine all the little bird lessons you could teach.”

Damian rolled his eyes but didn’t deny it, a tiny smirk playing at his lips as the three of you made your way back to the car.

As you drove home, the quiet of the evening settled over you all. Jason’s hand found yours again, giving it a gentle squeeze. You glanced over at him and saw a new warmth in his gaze—one that promised something deeper, more enduring. A future neither of you had quite imagined before.

And for the first time, Jason allowed himself to feel something other than fear when he thought about that future. Instead, he felt hope.