#we waiting for notes on Dracula

[breebird33]

them: hey so how's the WIP going?

me:

[bookwyrminspiration]

dracula posts are making the rounds and getting attention again, which just heightens the anticipation and excitement like. we’re almost there and we’re all waiting and lurking together until the day comes!

[ghostslazy]

Extremely rough first stab at the Taz Vs. Dracula lineup bc I love them all so so much already and don’t have the time to finish a lineup of characters for fun rn 🥲

Close up sketches, design notes and surprise drac under the break:

Travis’ characters are always the hardest for me to design idk why, but I made him very western inspired with some vampire hunting flair. Lady Agatha Thistle’s breed was one I hadn’t heard of before but I love a good blood hound. I always end up making Travis’s chapters warm toned, they’re all very red/orange coded to me. (Beef would be the exception I think he’s very pink and blue in my mind)

Clint always makes the sweetest roundest characters I love designing his. I wish we had a cannon spelling because there’s so many directions you can go with “Filo” also his characters are usually green or green adjacent to me. I cant wait to see him bust out more booger potions

Justin never misses with a character and I cling onto every single one he makes so quickly and violently it’s getting embarrassing. I like the idea that she would still dress extremely fancy and posh even tho her new body should be in some battle ready armor. Also I made her blue since she is a Frankenstein’s monster and most likely wouldn’t have the blood flow to have a human color. Plus I love the monster high color palettes so I’m referencing a little bit. Justin has very cool coded characters to me, lots of blue and purple and forest greens.

Probably not sticking with this Dracula design but I want him to love a bit more silly and slick, I think having him be lanky and shorter will pair him very well against our rough and rowdy boys

[see-arcane]

Something I’ve been chewing on for this go-around of Dracula Season is the fact that, for all that I am absolutely 110% on board with the whole ‘Dracula wants Jonathan for himself, calls dibs, wants first taste, wants to keep him as part of the castle permanently, I too can love~ et cetera’ deal, I can admit now that I’ve been overlooking one very key part of the whole Bluebeard wifery setup.

And that’s the unavoidable fact that Dracula fully intends to leave Jonathan Harker to be drunk and collected by the Weird Sisters.

Now there’s all manner of guesswork to make about what exactly these three’s relationship to Dracula really is. A personal harem is usually the go-to, and what I usually land on as explanation, considering how things will play out in the future regarding his usual choice of vampiric victim. But others have suggested familial connections, going by Jonathan noting a couple similar traits between the two brunettes, ala facial features, hair, the same red eyes and so on, leaving Blondie as a potential wife the Count turned along with their daughters. Or hell, maybe they’re all actual sisters. We never get to know.

All we know is that they accuse Dracula of ‘Never loving,’ while Dracula stares meaningfully at Jonathan, insisting otherwise. And claims that the trio themselves know it is so from the past. Whatever past that is.

To that end, the Weird Sisters matter to Dracula. Enough to keep them fed, enough to not even put up a full villain monologue at them when they go against his orders to try and snatch Jonathan out from under him, followed by laughing in his face. Beyond his far-too-intimate interactions and abuses with Jonathan, this is the closest we get to seeing Dracula trying to be close with and/or properly*** interacting with someone. An exchange that ends not only with handing over the poor stolen baby in the sack, but outright promising Jonathan to the Sisters once Dracula is finished with him.

And that’s sticking with me this year. Because for all that I’ve joked and memed about it in the past, it never really whacked me over the head with the import and terror that comes with Jonathan’s opening line in this entry.

God preserve my sanity, for to this I am reduced.

Reduced. That’s the key word here.

Even if he doesn’t know all the rules, he knows now that he is no longer just a temporary prisoner. Not even a mere murder victim waiting out the clock. No. He has been reduced to a living decanter. A possession there to be nursed from and used and given as a gift from Dracula to his companions. Like a toy or a new pet.

At the risk of slight spoilers (avert your eyes first-time Dracula Dailiers!), two important lines are yet to come during Jonathan’s stay in Vampire Hell. One from Dracula:

But I am in hopes that I shall see more of you at Castle Dracula.

(Yes, he does think he’s very funny. Prick.)

And another from Jonathan:

At its foot a man may sleep—as a man.

Two vital beats.

The first, because it is a winking confirmation to all that Jonathan has feared. Namely, that Dracula and the Weird Sisters mean to never let him leave the castle again, alive, dead, or otherwise.

The second, because it shows that for all Jonathan is not aware of, he does rightly suspect that there is more expected of him than being a mere meal to have and discard. He knows he is not due for a fleeting pain and escape, even via death. Because Dracula wants to ‘love’ him. To keep him.

And Dracula will do so because he keeps the Weird Sisters, and they will keep him. A parting gift from their loving lord of the castle. The conqueror’s playbook in miniature.

I turned you. You turn him. I have you all.

This, buried under the veneer of:

See girls? I care! Here, a fine new plaything to keep you company. Housebroken already.

(To this I am reduced. To this I am reduced. To this I am reduced.)

There’s time right now. However much time Jonathan can win by playing a good guest. But if he doesn’t get out by the time Dracula is done with him? He lives the rest of his human life as a wine bottle and then all of eternity after that as joint undead property.

Better hope your acting skills are up to the task, Mr. Harker.

[aemonds-gf]

Temptation

⛧°。 ⋆༺♱༻⋆。 °⛧

Vlad dracula tepes x reader

Author Note : hii everyone I haven’t written anything in about a year so I’m definitely a bit rusty, this takes place about 5 years after Lisa’s passing. Vlad is definitely a bit ooc and some things maybe be far fetched but I hope you enjoy <3 feedback is appreciated

Trigger Warnings: gender neutral reader, mentions of blood, betrayal, Vlad and reader have slight argument but a guarantee happy ever after. Self doubt ( I do believe that is everything, if anything else lmk. )

In the dimly lit room, you watched him with concern as he sat in a corner, his eyes fixed on the darkness outside the window. Vlad was a vampire, cursed with a thirst for blood that he struggled to control. Years ago he never thought much about drinking blood, but this coming year its all he could think about. You knew that he would never drink blood from you, no matter how much you insisted. He feared losing control and hurting you,even in the depths of his own hunger. For a while, he refused to feed off anything - not animals, not humans. His refusal to nourish himself left him weak and on the brink of collapse, but he remained stubborn in his decision to protect you from his vampiric urges. You couldn't bear to see him suffer this way. You pleaded with him, confronted him, begged him to help himself. But he wouldn't hear about it. He was determined to remain steadfast in his resolve, no matter the cost. It was evident why he had given up drinking blood – the pain of losing his first love, the ache of her absence lingered even five years later.

He professed his love for you and assured he had moved on, but there are moments when doubt creeps in. Yet, amidst it all, his affection shines through in the gentleness of his touches, the coolness of his kisses, and the sincerity of his actions. In those moments, you can sense the depth of his love, reassuring you of your place in his heart, even as traces of his past love story still twine with his present. With a gentle hush in your steps, you approached his chair, almost certain that he sensed your presence long before you made a sound. As you softly spoke his name, "Vlad honey? Are you coming to bed soon?" You knew well that sleep eluded him, but the comforting routine of bedding down together drew you close. The anticipation of your impending wedding day hung sweetly in the air, echoed by the delicate glint of the engagement ring he meticulously fashioned with you in mind. You put your hand on his shoulder for comfort and waited for his response.

As the clock struck midnight, Vlad's silhouette was still illuminated by the glow of the fireplace. Concerned, you tried to give him a kiss on the cheek, not before noting the tired lines etched on his face. "You shouldn't be up this late, dear. You know how cranky you are in the morning, and we have a big day ahead of us," . Vlad responded, usually attentive to your words, replied airily, dismissing your concern.

"You didn't answer the question, Vlad," you mumbled, puzzled by his behavior. The air in the room felt heavy with unspoken words, and Vlad's distant gaze made you uneasy. Suddenly, he stood up, his imposing height towering over you, and guided you out of his study. "I'll come to bed later," he reassured you, his voice carrying a weight you couldn't quite place. As he bid you goodnight, his parting words lingered in the silence of the hallway. "Please get some rest. I'll see you in a bit." His cryptic promise sent shivers down your spine, leaving you to wonder what secrets hid behind the facade of his usual composed demeanor. With a heavy heart, you retired to bed, the mystery of Vlad's late-night pursuits weighing on your mind like an unshakeable shadow.

As you climbed back into bed with your emotions swirling in your head like a whirlwind, you consciously tried to push aside the questions about why he had acted the way he did. Deep down, you had theories but your understanding of vampires was limited, especially when it came to someone like him. He was no ordinary vampire, he was the king of vampires, he was Dracula. The way he defied common vampire traits by not burning in sunlight and surviving without the need for blood for five whole years, as today marked the anniversary, left you perplexed of to why he wouldn't let you help him. Why he just wouldn't indulge himself and drink blood. It didn't even have to be from you. You were worried for him.

'were you not enough to help him, what was wrong with him?'

You were deep in thought, replaying the recent events in your mind when Vlad's voice jolted you back to reality.

"You know I can hear your thoughts, right darling." His voice was soft, almost teasing. You turned to see him standing there, his piercing gaze locked on you.

You tried to mask your surprise but failed as Vlad cleared his throat and sat on the edge of the bed. He patted a spot beside him, silently urging you to join him. Feeling a mix of curiosity and apprehension, you obliged and sat down, keeping your eyes fixed on him.

"Please, allow me to explain my behavior these past couple of hours," Vlad said, his tone sincere. "I know I may have seemed distant, but it's not because of you. It's something that has been weighing on me for some time now."

you grabbed his cold hand and gave him a gentle squeeze, he squeezed your hand in return drew in a breath of air and began explaining himself.

"As you are aware of what I am and the things I've done. I'm not a good person, and I want you to know your family, village, and friends will turn against you for marrying me," he stated, his voice laced with a mix of resignation and defiance.

the air was thick with tension as the words echoed between the bedroom walls. His confession hung heavy in the air like a shadow, ominous and foreboding. His crimson gaze bore into your soul, a silent plea mingled with a threat. But his revelation barely made a ripple in the depths of your heart.You reached out and gently clasped his hand, a silent reassurance that you were not afraid.

"Okay, but what's really bothering you?" you asked, your voice soft and filled with genuine concern as you met his gaze, drawn like a moth to a flame to his dark red eyes that held a myriad of unspoken emotions within their depths.

A moment of silence passed between you, the only sound the whispering of the wind through the branches above. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he spoke the words that held the weight of a promise and a warning.

"If you want to be mine, I will turn you. I won't make the same mistake twice."

His words hung in the air like a dark omen, a choice laid bare before you. To embrace a life of darkness and uncertainty by his side, or to turn away and live a life without him, untouched by the shadows that clung to him like a second skin.

But as you looked into his eyes, you saw not a monster, but a man burdened by his past, a man capable of love despite the darkness that threatened to consume him. And in that moment, you made your choice, sealing your fate and intertwining your destiny with his in a bond that transcended the boundaries of the mortal world.

"Okay, Vlad, you can turn me." His wicked smirk sent shivers down your spine, a potent mix of excitement and fear swirling through her mind.

"Tomorrow then, after our wedding," Vlad declared, his voice low and velvety. You could feel the power emanating from him, a dark magnetism that drew you in like a moth to a flame. And despite your apprehension, you nodded, a thrill of anticipation coursing through your veins.

Hope you enjoyed ✨

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Monster, Inc. 4

Warnings: this fic will include elements, some dark, such as age gap, noncon/dubcon, and other untagged triggers. Please take this into account before proceeding. It is up to curate your online consumption safely.

Summary: your boss is an asshole, you know this. But what happens when he turns his wrath upon you? (plus!reader)

Characters: Lloyd Hansen, this reader is known as Missie.

Author’s Note: Please feel free to leave some feedback, reblog, and jump into my asks. I’m always happy to discuss with you and riff on idea. As always, you are cherished and adored! Stay safe, be kind, and treat yourself💜

💼Part of the Bad Bosses AU💼

After a quick Google and a few reviews, you decide on a brand. You pick a box off the shelf. It should do the job as long as you apply it properly. You’re not so worried about yourself. 

Something drops along the edge of your vision and you peek over. A man walks away ignorant of the card left behind. You hurry to scoop it up. 

“Excuse me, sir, you dropped--” You click to a stop in your heels as he faces you. You smile as he mirrors your expression. “Peter!?” 

“Hey, Missie.” His brown eyes beam back at you. “What are the odds?” 

“It’s been so long. Um...” you look down at the card then wiggle it at him. “You dropped this.” 

“Oh, uh, thanks.” 

He accepts the card with a dimple in his cheek. You look at it and realise it’s nothing special. Just a loyalty card from Roasters. It is a great shop. 

“Haven’t heard from you since the paper. You said you’d keep in touch.” He shifts his stance so another customer can squeeze by. 

“Yeah, uh, I meant to. I’ve been really cruddy at keeping up. Work is so busy and--” 

“What’s that for?” He quickly redirects as he points at the box in your hands. “You dye your hair? Wouldn’t guess it.” 

“Oh, no it’s for... my boss,” you giggle. 

“Your boss. Right. I’m sorry, what exactly do you do now?” 

“I’m a PA. My boss is just demanding. That’s all. But it’s good pay and it keeps me on my toes.” 

“Ah, I left the paper too. Started my own photography business.” He explains. 

“I saw that on Insta! I follow you. Your stuff is so good.” 

“You follow me but you don’t message,” he crosses his arms. 

“I’m sorry,” you pout. You rattle the box in your hands. You don’t want to be abrupt but you really can’t keep Mr. Hansen waiting too long and you still need to grab shampoo. 

“We should catch up. How about dinner? What are you doing tonight?” Peter asks. 

“Oh, er, nothing.” 

“Great. How about Zak’s? That old sandwich shop near the paper. I remember your fave; the spicy italian with extra pickles.” He grins triumphantly. 

“Sure, that sounds awesome. Just... send me a message, okay? I gotta get back to my boss.” 

“Sure, don’t let her work you too hard,” he steps out of your way. 

“He,” you correct him. “It’s not hard work, just a lot.” 

You sweep down the aisle and grab a clarifying shampoo on your way to the checkout. Even just a few minutes is too long for Mr. Hansen and in his state, you don’t expect him to be any calmer. All you can hope for is that the remover works out. 

Back at the office, you measure your dread. It won’t be that bad. You can fix this. Maybe. You grabbed some dye too, hoping maybe you might be able to even everything out after. 

You drop your purse on your desk and flit over to Mr. Hansen’s office. You knock and hear him groaning from inside. As you enter, he’s bent over his lap, holding his head. He sits up so fast his chair teeters. He faces your chirpy greeting. 

“Mr. Hansen,” you sing, “I got everything we need.” 

“Why the fuck are you so cheery?” 

As you look at him, like really look at him, you find it hard not to laugh. He really does look awful. He’s not exactly your type but he isn’t too bad most days. The black dye just washes him out. He looks like Dracula if he was in a 70s adult flick. 

“So, we need to wash your hair. I figured we can use your sink. I even grabbed a towel.” 

“You think of everything, don’t you?” He hisses. 

“Sir, I think we can fix your hair.” 

He scowls and stands. He shakes his head and slinks to the en suite bathroom. You follow with the bag of goodies. He looms with arms crossed as you put it on the counter and unpack. 

“You can put the towel around your collar to keep the remover from dripping. Tuck it in to--” 

Before you can finish, his shirt is half unbuttoned. You turn to unbox the remover and peel the seal of the bottle as you quiet. Whatever’s easier, you suppose. He hangs his shirt on the back of the door and comes back to you. You get a glimpse of his chest hair in the mirror. 

“Alright, erm, bend over the sink and we need to wash your hair. How about you put the towel over your eyes--” 

“I can handle it.” He snatches the towel and folders it over his forehead and eyes. He bends over the sink. His broad shoulders strain as his muscles tighten. “Don’t fuck up my hair.” 

You want to tell him you don’t think it can get worse but you know better. You take one of the paper cups from the stack and crank on the faucet.  You feel the temperature before you fill the cup and carefully pour it over his head. You wet all the strands and squirt shampoo onto his hair. You lather it up, scratching his scalp with your nails. 

“Mmmph,” he purrs as your work away. You smile. He’s a bit like a cat. Cranky but manageable. 

You rinse his hair methodically. You make sure not to get any near his face as you use your hand to redirect the water. When you finish, you help him cover his hair with the towel. 

You roll in his chair from the office and have him sit. You rub the moisture of his hair with the towel and drape it around his shoulders. You pull the gloves on and mix up the remover in the bottle then take the comb out of the box. You go to Mr. Hansen as he sits, looking despondent. 

“It fucking reeks,” he wrinkles his nose at the odour. 

“I did warn you but once we rinse it out, you’ll be good as new.” You comb his hair back, then forward, and pull out a thin section. You slather it on precisely as you work through the strands. 

As you pay close attention to your task, you feel the tension ease from him. When you get through the longer pieces on the top of his head, you push the back again. You use your gloved fingers to do his sides, rubbing in the remover on the buzzed stubble. As you do, he closes his eyes and leans into your touch. 

Well, it’s better than him being angry. This might be the most relaxed you’ve ever seen Mr. Hansen. 

[sectumsempraaa]

Let the Right Girl In

Pairing: loser!Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

Word Count: 3.4k

Based on this request! Thank you :)

TW: use of fake/artificial blood and fangs, kissing

Summary: After months of secretly craving your attention, your friend Draco Malfoy finally finds the courage to overcome his crush-driven nerves by inviting you to the Halloween party of the season at Malfoy Manor. What he doesn’t expect is how quickly you turn it into a date at the suggestion of a seriously iconic couple’s costume.

A/N: There are of course some direct quotes and references from “Dracula” in this fic. It’s all very obvious with just a super basic knowledge of the story. No further research necessary :)

.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“Move, you bloody oaf!” Draco yells as he shoves a third year Gryffindor into the nearest wall, hastily making his way down the corridor to Transfiguration class. Any class he shares with you is his favorite, but today is different. Today he’s extra eager to arrive early to grab a seat next to you.

Usually he waits outside the classroom until you’re about 10 feet away, stealing you away from whoever holds your attention at that moment. His confidence glows, but underneath are a thousand nerves, each one sparking like fireworks when you arrive.

Most people can’t get under Draco’s skin, but you aren’t most people. This boy has had eyes for you longer than he’d like to admit, and he’s spent each day of it absolutely craving your attention. In fact, it’s become sort of a game for him. Devising ways to bump into you, manipulating teachers to partner you on projects, whatever it takes to get even just a glint of eye contact, a brushing touch, or a subtle laugh from you.

And the fact is, none of it is for show. The payoff for him is the prolonged, palpable thrill that lingers from even just a fleeting moment with you.

Draco’s parents have decided to host a lavish Halloween party at the manor this year and the minute he caught wind of it, he was dead set on you attending. Hundreds of fancy invites have been created already, yours being the first delivered, of course.

McGonagall gives Draco a curious eye, suspicious of his unusual timeliness. “Class is not yet in session, Mr. Malf-” she stops abruptly, her attention turning to you in the doorway. She looks between the two of you, a knowing smile grows on her face as Draco’s unwavering stare follows your every step. He couldn’t blink if he tried.

“Hi, Draco” you greet him in your soft, bright voice. The sound of his name on your tongue sends a jolt of adrenaline through him, struggling to produce a coherent response.

“Precious, precious Y/L/N,” he responds, his heart quickening as you set your books down next to his own on your desk. He swallows, trying especially hard to maintain his cool facade. “Feel like being neighbors today then?”

You sit down next to him, smoothing your skirt out underneath you while doing so. You scan him up and down, making him wonder… are you… checking him out right now?

“Hmm, well I always did have a thing for the boy next door.” You joke, nudging him with an elbow. Your response alone is enough to break his brain, enough that he has to tell himself you were just playing around. He readjusts his focus, reminding himself of the task at hand.

“Then I suppose it wouldn’t be too difficult for you to find your way over, then?” he asks, extracting the invitation from inside his robe and presenting it to you, your intrigued features quickly relaxing into an excited grin.

The way your hand grazes his while accepting the card could have added years to his life. His gaze worships you, morphing into tunnel vision the longer you inspect the invitation. Your eyes note the black and orange borders and the lovely cursive handwriting that could only belong to Narcissa.

You look up to him, his breath still as he awaits your answer, the anticipation rendering his mind blank.

“Do we get to wear costumes? Or is this one of those classic Malfoy functions that requires classic Malfoy attire?” You inquire, each word drenched in playfulness.

He fucking loves riffing with you and pushing each other’s buttons. As long as you’re talking to him, it doesn’t matter. You could be publicly berating him and he would relish every single second.

“Costumes required, actually. But that won’t be hard for someone who already resembles an angel,” he says, resting his temple on a fist. To this, you break into a fit of laughter. He can’t help but notice the rosy hue developing on your cheeks, the way your eyes crinkle and your nose scrunches.

“An angel?! How positively daft,” you tease, shaking your head. He could have sworn you started to reach for him in your bout of giggling. “No, I’ve got a killer idea.”

He is just dying to know what you have in mind, his thoughts swimming with fantasies of you in his home, all dressed up. But it is quickly cut off by a room full of loud students and a yelling McGonagall, a sigh of frustration emitting from him. He’ll spend the rest of class imagining you in a range of costumes- cat, inmate… bride? Yeah, that’s his favorite one.

He watches you slip the invitation behind the cover of your textbook for protection. You throw him a wink, and it damn nearly kills him.

—

Not a day goes by where he isn’t secretly praying to fast forward to Halloween. Countless times now he’s imagined you meeting his parents, introducing them to his most favorite person. That is, until today.

Lately, Draco’s been deprived of your attention, shying away from fear of bothering you. Honestly, he is still recovering from his flirtatious interaction with you in McGonagall’s class, repeating and analyzing every sentence in his head over and over.

As he’s walking into the Great Hall for breakfast, he approaches the table and notices a book lying where he normally sits. Probably some delinquent student forgetting their belongings behind.

But as he gets closer, he’s hit by a wall of your perfume, a mist of orange blossoms and vanilla filling his senses, indicating your very recent presence. The fragrance causes him to look around for you, a burst of butterflies erupting in his chest as he finds your stare already on him from a few tables over.

You nod in the direction of the book at his place setting, urging him to take a peak. He’d be lying if he said it wasn’t hard to break away from your entrancing eye contact, the boy desperate to keep your gaze on him as long as possible.

He manages to glance down, expecting a textbook or something he’s already read. Instead he reads the title aloud, his Slytherin friends listening in as his eyebrows furrow in confusion.

“Drac-ula? What is Dracula?” he asks to no one in particular, a hint of attitude in his voice. Pansy giggles, being in on your idea previously. She reaches across the table and opens the cover for him.

“It’s a famous muggle story, you git. A bloody good one, you could say.” She and Blaise smirk to each other in pride of her pun, but it earns no response from Draco. She turns the page for him again, this time revealing an illustration of the pale man with his fangs sunk into the neck of his damsel-like counterpart.

Draco’s eyes grow wide, the realization finally settling in. He jumps as you suddenly appear behind him, talking over his shoulder on your tippy toes with your hands on each of his upper arms.

“You already have half his name, and his personality,” you start, huffing a laugh to yourself. His eyes still linger on the drawing as he turns slightly towards you. “I figured you’d be perfect for the part.”

“And you?” he asks with genuine curiosity, his voice just barely shaking, his features softening at the sight of you. You caught him by surprise and now he’s a melting mess, your glow slowly hypnotizing him.

“Darling, we’re both in that picture.” You respond, throwing him another wink and a playful hiss before walking away with your friends. His brain can barely register this information, requiring a minute to fully process your idea.

Theo pokes fun at Draco as the gang gets up to leave for class. “Dear god, I’ve never seen it this bad. It’s like we’re not even here!” He sneers, snapping his fingers in front of Draco’s face, but to no avail.

Draco whispers to himself while scanning the illustration again, unaware that his housemates are in listening proximity. “It’s a couples costume. She wants to do a couple’s costume… with me.” A small smile forms on his face in the aftermath of your conversation.

“You ought to save that devilish smirk for your upcoming role,” Pansy jokes. He stows the book away in his bag and decides to skip his first class, opting to read the book that made you think of him, instead.

—

Draco stands utterly still, completely in awe, taking a mental picture of the image before him: you, sitting on his bed in his home. His actual real life home. He’s not sure if it’s disbelief or amazement or general arousal but it’s safe to say there’s a healthy mix of each.

You had brought over everything the two of you would need for your costumes, the nature of yours nearly sending him over the edge already. Normally, he’s praying for just a glimpse in his direction in class, but today, there’s no one else here to distract you from him.

“Come here, lovey,” you say, coaxing him over to you as you lay out the makeup and supplies on a small bedside table. He nearly falls over at the nickname, attempting to build his cold walls back up, but the blush on his cheeks says otherwise.

He sits on the edge of his bed facing you, and you notice how unusually quiet he’s been since your arrival. It’s hard for you to imagine the Draco Malfoy being… anxious?

You approach him, leaning slightly between his legs to get a better vantage point of his face. It takes every fiber of his being not to glance down to your cleavage, the Victorian style dress you’re wearing putting it on full display.

You run a hand through his hair, admiring his features as he looks up at you with eyes full of pure adoration. A slight pause has you realizing how truly weird this is- the coldest boy in school, the Slytherin prince himself, inviting you over to the privacy of his house, giving you the grand tour, letting you set up shop in his childhood bedroom.

Most people aren’t even granted permission to speak to him, and yet here you are, finally coming to the conclusion that… you really aren’t ‘most people.’

He let you in.

“Open your mouth, boy.” Your voice sultry, a teasing smile adorning your face as you place a hand under his chin, holding it in place. His body could ignite right now with how hot his skin is from your touch. He’s not sure he was ever prepared for this level of intimacy with you.

He parts his lips, granting you access inside. Suddenly, your fingers are in his mouth, working on attaching a set of fangs to his teeth. Is this real? Is this happening? How are you so comfortable right now while he’s silently screaming inside at your mere presence?

The limits of his self control are being brutally tested, something he didn’t foresee being an issue today. Electricity shoots through his body as the taste of you grazes his tongue. You can’t help but notice how perfect his lips are, how soft and supple they seem.

Your eyes go wide as the fangs click into place, something wild sparking within your stare. He notices and gives you a look tinged with intrigue.

“This may have been a very bad idea,” you joke, a hint of bashfulness lacing your words. “I didn’t realize you’d make such a handsome vampire.”

His grin grows instantly, his confidence rising ever so slightly as you share your vulnerability. His eyes still shine up at you with sheer infatuation as your posture caves in a bit, bringing your faces closer together.

It’s quiet for a moment as he lets you take him in. The weight of his kindness, openness, and hospitality is all starting to make sense. On top of that, there’s something quite serene about seeing him in this environment, one where he’s fully himself. The volume of your voice lowers to a shadow of a whisper as your hands clasp behind his neck.

“I need you to do me a favor, Draco.” It is incredibly difficult to keep his focus on anything but your lips and how little distance there is to his own. But he’ll do anything he can to keep his chance with you alive and well.

“Anything, doll.” He responds, sitting up straighter.

You reach for an item on the table and place it in his hand, his head barely registering anything outside his immediate concentration on you.

“I need you to make me your Mina.” His heart nearly explodes at the request, his every desire begging him to crush his lips onto yours. He looks from the illustration in the open book on the table down to the container of fake blood in his palm, a smirk thrown your way as he understands what’s coming next.

A hand on your waist catches you by surprise, the pressure guiding you to sit down on his thigh. Before you know it, he’s the one towering over you now, his arm secured around your waist to keep you balanced on his lap.

Don’t be fooled, he is still absolutely racked with nerves. But the girl of his dreams is sitting on his lap, and god damnit if he’s going to let this opportunity pass without making the most of it. He can be brave for you.

His hand makes its way towards you, the deep red substance dripping onto your dress. Your hand finds his back, gripping the material of his white ruffled shirt tightly in your fist. “Tilt,” he requests, needing more access to your neck. You do as asked, resting your head on his shoulder to expose more skin.

He wasn’t expecting you to do this, but god he’ll take it. In a swift motion, he lifts your legs over both his thighs now, giving you both maximum stability. The breath from your small laugh into the crook of his neck gives him chills, his eyes closing for a moment to relish it.

The hand around your waist lifts higher to gather your hair, laying it neatly behind your shoulders. The next thing you feel are his fingers dragging their way across the side of your neck, painting your skin with care and intention. Each stroke makes its way lower and lower towards your chest, the thumping of your heart picking up each time you feel him slide over you.

“Mind if I…?” Draco prompts, gesturing the packet of fake blood itself to your neck. “I’m feeling quite committed to the theatrics.” To this, he earns a joking eye roll of approval from you.

You adjust yourself on his lap, causing his hand to slip down around your hips. Whatever it takes to just keep you here forever seems necessary to him. His heart may be racing, his muscles aching from making sure you’re comfortable, but this is all he’s ever wanted.

You are all he’s ever wanted.

You feel the red liquid cascade down your neck to your chest, seeping into your cleavage, some of it staining the bodice of your dress. Just enough to make it look like a real vampire bite, without being excessive.

“You know,” you breathe, lifting your head to meet his stare, your noses practically touching. “There is one way we could make this… really convincing.”

Draco searches your eyes and for the first time, he finds the same unfiltered longing staring back at him. A needy, pulling desire fills the remaining space left between you. Your hand finds its way to the base of his neck, a slight pressure not unlike the one he used on you before.

“If… if you want, I mean.” Your bit of embarrassment lingers on your cheeks. He smiles, repeating his sentiment from earlier while his hand snakes its way underneath your knees, pulling you even closer to him.

“Anything, doll.” He replies, and this time you know he means it in every sense of the word.

Your hand applies the same pressure again, guiding his face to your neck, and from here he needs no further instruction. You feel the soft yet hungry impact of his lips on your neck, sucking on your skin lightly, his eyes closed as the vampire himself does what he does best.

A sigh escapes you, your fingers curling in his hair as his tongue enters the mix. His movements become more fervent as your response intensifies with each kiss. You let out a tiny yelp as you feel the fangs poke your skin, a mix of pain and pleasure enveloping you as his laugh graces your neck.

He quickly pulls back, resting his forehead on yours. “Sorry, love. Got a bit too into character there, didn’t I?” He winks, his head spinning from it all. You glance down to the mess of red displayed on his chin, admiring the work of art.

“No, it was perfect. You’re a spitting image.” You state, nodding to the book’s visual aid you were using to create this look. You both giggle, observing each other up close.

“And you, my Mina.” Draco tucks a stray hair behind your ear, beckoning you to him again. As the fake blood dries on his skin, he takes one last look in your eyes before you decide to be equally dedicated to your role. Your voice lowers to a mutter, your breath entwining with his.

“I felt in my heart a wicked, burning desire that they would kiss me with those red lips.” He pulls back at the phrase, the realization hitting him like a vivid flashback.

“Chapter three.” He declares, earning a dropped jaw from you. He really read the damn book.

Within seconds, your lips are on his, his response having won your swelling heart. His hands travel around your waist, exploring every inch of you. His whole world seemingly shatters and mends itself as you get lost in each other.

Your lips dance together in a passionate, breathtaking crescendo. Your tongue slides in, claiming his mouth as his hand lifts up to cup and support your cheek. The urgency calms, settling back into a gentle, tender kiss. A kiss so painfully soft, it acts more as an expression of his intentions with you, pointing to a time where this was all but a day dream to him.

“Shall we?” He asks, gesturing his head towards the door. You smile, reaching for the last bit of his costume: a black velvet cape. You lay it around him, snapping the clasps together in the front.

He dives in for one last kiss, tugging your lower lip with his fictitious fangs, causing your hands to land on his chest.

“You know, I think I’m rather fond of these.” He says as he helps you off his lap back to your feet. He scans you up and down, drinking you in.

“Our Defense Against the Dark Arts professor would beg to differ.” You joke, letting him spin you around, hooking an arm through his as you walk to the top of the stairs that lead down to the main hall.

You two make your way down the stairs, the guests turning in your direction in awe as cameras flash and fingers point at the prestigious Malfoy son and the beautiful girl on his arm. Draco stops abruptly on the last stair, giving you a blank, anticipatory look.

“What’s wrong, dear?” You whisper, a shadow of worry following your voice.

“You have to invite me in.” To this, you can barely control your immediate bout of laughter, your hold on him growing tighter the harder you laugh.

When you both finally come down, you release your arm from his, stepping in front of him. The crowd went eerily silent, enticed by your dramatic entrance.

Your black-gloved hand reaches out to his as you both put on a show for the entranced guests. He takes it and kisses the back of your hand, a small smirk displayed for your eyes only.

You oblige to his request, the pitch of your voice lying somewhere between innocence and a dark, desirable knowing.

“Enter freely, and of your own free will, my darling.”

🤍🤍🤍🤍🤍

[thethirdromana]

There have been a bunch of posts (mine included) about how meaningful it is that Mina chooses to marry Jonathan in an ableist society that would tell her to break off the engagement, or at the very least wait until he recovers.

But I think it's worth noting that Mina is not the only one committing to a loved one despite their illness:

This morning I am horribly weak. My face is ghastly pale, and my throat pains me. It must be something wrong with my lungs, for I don't seem ever to get air enough. I shall try to cheer up when Arthur comes, or else I know he will be miserable to see me so.

We know the reason why Lucy's illness is getting worse, but a) Arthur doesn't and b) many of her symptoms predate any encounter with Dracula.

There's much less of Arthur's perspective on Lucy than there is Mina's perspective of Jonathan, so it doesn't shine through as much, but he too is making the choice to marry someone chronically ill - against the usual advice to Victorian men to choose a healthy wife.

In fact, since it was frowned upon (and legally actionable) for men to break engagements, all three suitors were prepared to make a commitment to Lucy in full knowledge of her poor health.

[lovelytsunoda]

kiss me down by the broken treehouse // mick schumacher

summary: honeymoons in the midwest, heart shaped jacuzzis and scented bubble bath. this is how mick wants the rest of his life to be

pairing: mick schumacher x newlywed reader!

warnings: vague allusions to sex, two people being sickeningly in love, bathing together. nicolas cage should be a warning in itself

author's note: this is the last fic in the cozy collection and not gonna lie, it's making me very emotional. thank you for coming along for this cozy and warm, and sometimes scandalous adventure <3. i can't wait to share the christmas collection with you all.

the hotel suite was dim as she slipped the rose gold wedding band off her finger, dropping it on the dresser next to the almost identical one her husband wore.

mick was sitting by the window, lighting a tangle of scented candles as the heart-shaped jacuzzi tub filled with bubble bath.

"baby, what's all this?" she asked softly, leaning down to kiss him.

they had spent the day in town, visiting country stores and hiking trails, downing more apple cider than mick had ever thought possible. they were cold to the bone when they returned to the hotel, but that didn't stop mick from pulling his wife into bed and reminding her just how happy he was to spend the rest of their lives together.

"just another way to show how much i love you." mick hummed, reaching for the bottle of champagne he'd had room service deliver on their way back to the bed and breakfast. "i figured the best way to end the night was a nice bubble bath and a movie."

she smiled, giggling as she kissed the side of his head. "i knew there was a reason i married you."

she disentangled herself from mick, slender fingers making quick work of the belt holding her plush hotel robe together, fabric pooling over the floor and revealing her naked body to her lover.

blushing furiously, mick turned off the tap, quickly filling two champagne flutes before stripping out of his own hotel robe.

“after you, my darling wife.” he grinned, taking y/ns hand and helping her into the tub. he slipped under the bubbles after her, nuzzling into her back and pressing a kiss to her shoulder blade. “ich liebe dich.”

“I love you too, mickie.”

she settled on one of the built in tub seats, smiling at her husband before she looked dreamily out the frost covered window. the trees in the vermont woods next to the hotel were dyed shades of red-orange, the colors themselves beyond breathtaking.

“whatcha starin’ at, pretty girl?” mick pondered, kissing the top of her head as he settled in next to her.

“the trees. nature. it’s beautiful. how did you manage to get a room with such a great view?”

mick shrugged. “turns out, telling the hotel you’re on your honeymoon gets you special privileges. but that view isn’t as a great as the one I had earlier when I was on top of you. or the view I have every morning when I wake up with you in my arms.”

she giggled, playfully slapping his shoulder. "mickie!"

mick laughed, kissing the side of her head before reaching for the laptop next to the tub. "how do you feel about the nicolas cage dracula movie?"

"absolutley not! when i get nightmares, are you going to nurse me back to sleep?"

"yes." mick said solemnly, loading up amazon prime on his laptop. "one hundred percent."

y/n snickered, reaching for the champagne. once mick schumacher was alseep, not even a tornado could wake him up. "babe, we both know you'd sleep right through. you sleep like a goddamn rock."

"yeah, babe. you're right. but nicolas cage is in it, it wont be that scary."

“I’m not worried about it being scary; I’m worried about it being gory.” she rolled her eyes, taking a sip of champagne. “if I start watching ‘renfield’ through my fingertips, you’re on your own, mickie.”

mick giggled, hitting the play button before pulling his wife into his lap. “consider me warned. we can watch the original halloween afterwards.”

“you’ve got yourself a deal, husband.” she laughed, passing him a champagne flute.

the room was small and cozy, lit only by the blue glow from micks laptop and the candles around the bath, the air filled with the calming scents of vanilla, cinnamon and pumpkin. micks gentle fingers trailed up and down her thigh as they watched the movie together, sipping champagne and enjoying each others company.

every so often, mick filled the silence with a small praise, a gentle kiss against his wife’s skin. it was still so surreal to him that he would get to hold her in his arms, every day, for the rest of his life.

she rested her head on his shoulder, placing the empty glass back on the ledge outside the tub before she properly folded her body against his, fingertips mindlessly tracing shapes on his chest, the fine blonde hairs dotting his pecs matted to his skin by the water, a few errant bubbles still stark against his skin.

she loved him, truly madly and deeply.

it seemed like just yesterday they had met each other, although it had been almost four years. four great years of love and laughter and highs and lows. and in a blink of an eye, there she was, in her white dress, in micks arms as they danced to a bryan adams song.

four years of feelings she wasn’t sure she’d ever have the joy of feeling for another living, breathing person. and she wouldn’t trade it for anything.

when the movie was half over, candle wax dripping into hardwood and the bubbles all faded away from the lukewarm water, skin dried out and pruny, only then did the newlyweds emerge from the heart-shaped tub.

micks touch was gentle as he helped his wife dress in her long, pale nightdress, silk dusting the carpet as she pulled down the handmade quilt, ready to fold herself into bed next to her husband.

he slipped into bed next to her, laying the laptop down in front of them. his fingers played with her hair, twirling strands around her finger before he began to lazily braid a small section, the last half of the movie playing on the small screen.

“mick?”

“yeah?”

“I’m so excited to spend my future with you.”

“me too, Liebling.” he smiled, kissing her forehead. “we’ve got so much to look forward to.”

BONUS

y/nschumacher ❤️🍂

TAGS

@magnummagnussen @libraryofloveletters @lorarri @diorleclerc @userlando @thatsdemko @oconso @sidcrosbyspuck @cartierre

[petrawood]

I keep thinking about the Jonathan Harker Time Loop and how most posts are about the poor guy having flashbacks or trying to somehow sidestep The Horrors. You know, all reflection about how we see him.

But listen.

How about how HE sees US?

Imagine you are Jonathan Harker, and you are leaving for a work trip. You haven't really travelled much, and you are very excited, so you do research about that fascinating country called Transylvania, you write down your train schedules, the names of the cities you pass by, the recipes you find interesting or unfamiliar. You really want to remember everything, after all, you know you are going to spend some time away and you are sure Mina would love all the details of this little adventure! You are going to miss her so much, so making sure that everything is accurate so you can later faithfully recreate your journey makes you feel closer to her.

You could do without those weird dreams, though.

Moreover, since the beginning of your travels you have kept meeting more and more people.

They strike you as strange.

Most of them greet you as if you were old friends, clapping you in the back and talking about how happy it made them to receive the letter about your upcoming job trip, which you find mildly confusing, and the familiarity that they spark on the depths of your mind somewhat soothing.

Others smile at you and wish you fast and happy travels, something mournful gleaming in the depths of their eyes, and you feel like they are not really looking at you, but at some other man standing right behind you.

"Maybe this time it will go well, right?"

And you have nothing to say about that.

Some people you can tell recognize you, but don't really come near. They seem hesitant, and not as overtly familiar as the previous groups of people, acting instead in a manner more fitting to strangers. They follow you at a distance, looking torn between curiosity and dread, and you can tell that this is their fist time making this journey as well.

Then you get to Transylvania, and the entire crowd seems to go mad.

While you had only been meeting people in groups before, now they seem to cover almost every free inch of the country, coming together in thick clusters that somehow never actually seem to encumber your travel. They read what you write over your shoulder, they nod at the scenery and watch all the people getting in and out of your carriage.

They seem to be specially fond of the villagers, in spite of the country people's apparent lack of interest in them, since as far as you have seen the two groups never actually cross words.

In one particularly noteworthy morning you have paprika for breakfast, which is met with great approval by all.

You get closer to Castle Dracula, and the amount of people still increases, although a low number of them appear and disappear just as quickly, checking on you and then departing. They explain that they will come back later, or that they are waiting for someone else, and sometimes you swear you can hear the sound of waves in their steps.

Of the ones that stay, some get close enough to stand with you, while others prefer to stay by themselves, either taking notes on their own journals or -something that baffles you every single time you see it- sitting behind some kind of canvas and mixing colors while they wave away your worries at the bumping of the carriage ruining their work.

And at last, after weeks of travel that somehow only feel like three days, you arrive at Castle Dracula.

You stand before a great door, waiting for great man, while a great multitude surrounds you, all their eyes on you.

You hear steps approaching through the wood, and the very universe around you seems to hold their breath, waiting for the beginning of a path that seems new but well tread, a path that just for that endless second you feel extending behind and in front of you, strengthening and waning, with its first knot waiting at that door.

So the strong wood opens, a Count makes his greeting, and you, together with all the people next and behind you, friends new an old, step through the door.

[theyungihven]

Truth Or Dare ⁉️ ⁕ Hongjoong

HALLOWEEN EVENT

☆ pairing: hongjoong as Dracula x Human? Reader

☆ genre: mystery, fantasy, horror,

☆ warnings: mentions of blood, sacrifice, vampires and ghosts

☆ word count: 2.1k+

☆ synopsis : You and your friends dare to spend a night at the infamous Dracula's Castle but things go astray as one by one everyone goes missing and you come across the man rumoured to be Dracula.

“You gotta do this!” You hear your friends yell or more like discuss something in the secret hideout. 

The hideout is an abandoned laboratory where you sometimes work on illegal stuff. The discussions take place every day here where everyone in your friend group (it's just 2 people) gather to share about the current news (conspiracy theories) and rumours they heard around the town while you are busy building your prototype.

“Bro, I don't wanna die too early. First, fucking global warming, now this shit? Nah I'm out!” Claire shouts as she bangs the old lunch table discarded in the room. Well that's Claire, one of you two friends, being herself. You smile at her humour which strangely manages to entertain you.

“But they offered a reward of 250 grand, if we spend a night there and return alive.” You listen keenly to Kevin who explains the plan before you to decide to jump into their conversation. He's obviously got a strategy if he's pitching the idea, doesn't he? He has to!

“Alive? The fuck is going on there?” Claire yells  in terror as it laces her body manifesting itself in her tone which shivers and shrieks.

“Rumour says, it's Dracula, who was sleeping till last month in the villa.” Kevin whispers loudly as if he intended you to hear on their spill the tea session.

“Which shithead woke him up, for fuckssake?” Claire huffs and pushes back her chair. You hear the screeching of the rusty metal and make a note to check their safety because you don't want anyone to break their bones from falling off that thing.

“Someone from med school. They're missing apparently.” Kevin slurs his sentence as if he's making things up or masking up the important details. Cheeky little Bastard who's always up to something. Probably some anatomy geek must have gotten all curious to see Dracula in the flesh and fainted in there or lost his way.

“And now, we're going there to feed him?" Claire shrieks, whose voice sounds like a scared five year old upon seeing a clown which she is to be honest.

“No, obviously! To show whoever is hiding in there, that they cannot hide for long.” Kevin's sentence catches your attention and you think whether to join them or wait and hear more. Of course, you choose the latter.

“So... we're going to expose them?”Claire asks excitedly as if in hopes of going on a ghost hunting mission. They are her time passing activities and the ghost files is her favourite show. “What if it's a cannibal or serial killer?”

“Can you speak positively for once, Claire?” Kevin shrugs, shaking his head in disappointment.

“Sorry.” Claire says softly and the conversation stills, creating an awkward silence in the room. 

You finally decide to interrupt as you pull your chair to their table and make yourself comfortable on it. “So, what's the plan?” You say, chewing the strawberry flavoured gum and reading the expressions on their faces.

“See who finally decided to pay attention?” Kevin mocks you and you roll your eyes at his statement. 

“Does the area have connectivity? Comms? Anything?” You ask him, because he certainly has some information on this if he's even mentioning the topic but he has a tendency to hide things till after the disaster is done.

“Nope everything's dead. There's a strong magnetic field apparently…” He trails on his words, again and clicks his tongue.

“What in the Stranger Things?” Claire wonders with her mouth hanging open. 

“Shut up Claire! You’re watching too much science fiction.” Kevin yells at her, sending a stern glare at Claire who turns her head down with a frown on her lips.

“We gotta do it the pirate way.” you suggest calmly, leaning back on the chair and folding your arms.

“Pirates?” Claire asks, raising her eyebrow and leaning forward with enthusiasm.

“I forgot you had pirate blood for a minute.” adds Kevin and Claire acknowledges the fact with ahh. 

“So, if we don't have comms, drones and walkies aren't gonna work. We gotta get flares and some type of marker to make a path for entry and exits.” You say looking at the table and your friends exchange looks.

“A blueprint of the place!” Claire exclaims as if she has figured out the answers to one of the world's unsolvable riddles.

“It's not your fucking aunts house!” Kevin says loudly, giving Claire the ‘I'll murder you’ eyes.

“Yeah he's right. But the villa is not that big to get lost.” You mumble, moving forward and setting your arms on the table. 

“How do you know that?” Kevin gives you the sceptical look as if you're a notorious criminal with disgusting crimes.

“It was once our family property, that was a long time tho. Some feud happened and we lost it.” You confess and their faces have the funniest expression you've ever seen. Confused, surprised and wtf?

“You have a map?” Kevin yells in your ear and you retort meters away, squeezing your eyes close  due to the pain.

“Kinda, it's a tracing, rather than a map.” you say, rubbing your ear and a flicker of hope lights up on Kevin's face. 

“Atleast, we have something.” Claire mumbles as she shares a smile.

“Be at my house at 7, we'll discuss stuff there. That's it for now.”

***

“Listen, the Manor has two exits.” You explain, spreading out the old one dimensional tracing of the Manor and its illustrations.

“Didn't you say it was a villa?” Claire says, setting her hands on her waist as she stares at the floor plan.

“Can we kick her out?” Kevin suggests and the idea doesn't sound bad considering her level headed ass. 

“It's dangerously close to Yes, but what if I get bored? We'll need her.” You trail, spreading out the second floor plan of the Manor.

“Fair. So, Claire, just shut your mouth and listen. No speaking over someone.” Kevin says and shushes Claire who pouts, giving him the puppy eyes.

“Okay so the first exit is at the front, obviously for the people and the second is at the back for the goods.” You say with your finger tracing the main gate of the Manor and then the back gate. 

“Ohhhhhh!” Claire coos, and Kevin giggles at her reaction while he gets ready to smack her on head.

“Yeah. Shut your mouth before a fly lands in there. Anyways, moving on!” You say, thinking about your next sentence and Claire slaps her hand to her mouth. 

“Are we dividing up and going from two exits?” Kevin asks, and you look up at him, eyes diverting themselves from the map and landing on his face.

“Yes, you read my mind. You two will go from the front door to distract whatever is in there and I'll go with someone else from the back.”

“Is this someone else, late to the meeting?”

“Hey there!” A voice says and it is followed by the garage door smashing open with a thud, “Sorry I had soccer practice.” Yunho, your arch nemesis on friendly terms, says and shares an awkward smile.

“This is my neighbour, yunho.” You introduce him and drag him by his arm to make his tall ass body stand next to yours.

“Hello, very nice to meet you.” He waves at your friends with a bright smile and Claire gives him heart eyes at which you cringe. 

“You both are polar opposites!” Kevin comments and you feel heating rising on your cheeks.

“We get that a lot!” You and Yunho say at the same time only to meet each other's eyes the next second and shy away. 

“What did I miss?” Yunho says after clearing his throat as he glances in your direction. His golden blond hair falls over eyes and you observe the way his gaze flickers from your face and back to map.

“Whatever I said to you, last night.” You say, finding something to stare at besides his brooding figure.

“Okay then, I'm saved I guess!” Yunho says as he nervously chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.

“The next phase of the plan is when I signal you, we move to the first floor. The highest is the second floor which has a library in the attic.” You say and it excites something in Yunho judging by the creepy smirk on his lips.

“Attics scare me!” Claire says, her voice shrieking with fear of the darkness.

“What doesn't scare you Claire?” Kevin says in a monotone as he turns his head in her direction.

“Him!” Claire points in Yunho's direction at which you can't help but sigh.

“Flirt somewhere else, lovebirds. We got shit to do.” You roll your eyes then go back to thinking about what to say next.

“How are you going to communicate?” Yunho asks, giving you his starry puppy eyes and you can't help but gulp nervously. What is he even trying to do?

“Well, I have a perfect device for that.” You say, distracting yourself from the tall and beautiful blonde beside you with a bright ass smile.

“Where?” Claire asks as if she's looking for something and fails to find it.

“Our friendship bracelets. They work with a higher bandwidth of 7GHz.” You say, pointing at the bracelet on Claire's wrist.

“7g WiFi?” Claire exclaims and you hear an audible sigh from Kevin, at which Yunho giggles and earns a glare.

“Yeah kinda like that.....i guess.” you mumble under your breath.

“Yunho doesn't have one, though?” Someone asks while your mind pulls you in a trance and you start to zone out.

“He does.” You say, almost mumbles as you start to slip into the fever dream.

“He DOES?”  They yell. 

AT THE MANOR

“You know what to do. On the signal, disperse. It's two taps, distinct and repeating 3 times. If anything goes down, the distress signal is continuous tapping. Light the flare ONLY if its a fucking emergency, and if we need to abort the mission.” You yell as low as possible while they listen to you attentively. 

“Yes sir!” Everyone shouts, tightening the strap of their backpack of supplies.

“Remember to mark your way up to the second floor. People get lost there.” You say and everyone exchanges confused looks. “It's a spell.” You remind them and they nod their heads. “Now, go. Meet you at the library!”

According to the plan, you and Yunho go through the back gate while Claire and Kevin from the front gate. The sound of the rusted iron screeching when Kevin pushes the gate echoes around the Manor and you curse under your breath. 

The way up to the first floor had been easy, then after the signal from the other team gave clearance, you decided to head to the second floor alone bidding Yunho a goodbye. It had been strange for a while, walking down the eerie, empty hallway with the feeling of something watching you the whole time. 

You stand in the middle of the never ending hallway, a ghostly whisper greets your ear and sends shivers down your spine. 

What in the fucking hell?? 

There's a ghostly touch on your arm, ice cold as it traces its finger down your warm skin. When you turn to face the monster, there's no one behind you. Then you feel it, a looming shadow over your shoulder but when you turn again, it's gone. 

So, you walk on because standing still is more dangerous. You choose to run when you see a pale face in the middle of the corridor grinning wildly at you which sends terror down your body. Your heart beats at an amazing speed as your breath shortens, adrenaline running through your body which initiates the flight mechanism because there is no way you're dealing with that demonic thing in this haunted mansion. 

“I've been searching for you for so long.” A voice echoes in the hallway or is it your brain playing tricks on you. Luckily you find the stairway leading to the second floor and run towards it but things take a turn when you realise, it is a trap. 

“I thought you were a smart girl.” The sinister voice echoes in your mind again as you walk away from the door that shut itself only to bump into something hard. Turning around you come to see the very pale face you had seen in the hallway but very clearly now. 

The man stands in front of you in his full glory, the navy uniform and wounds from the battle still decorating his lifeless body. “You traitor!” You feel a sharp pain in your chest and you look down to see a dagger pressed to your heart. “You'll repay the blood we shed that night, you vampire.” Everything goes black when he twists the knife and the last thing you see is a scared yunho trying to save you.

[handkinkbis]

Notes from the ep 15 sex scene after my 10th rewatch 👩‍🏫👩‍⚕️👩‍💻👩‍🔬

hongjo giggling in the doorway and acting all shy like sweety YOU KNOW EXACTLY WHAT YOU'RE DOING TO HIM

the way he went from cute and clumsy to AMBUSHING HER 👁👄👁

for a giraffe he's quite wolfish in his table manners 😏😏

PINNED AGAINST THE WALL, GOD IS GOOD

WHY WAS THAT CURSED LIGHT SWITCH RIGHT THERE

[wet kissing noises]

THOSE 6'2/187CMs ENGULFING HER

he started unbuttoning her almost immediately, (the shirt DOES look better on the floor, shinyu, u ARE absolutely correct)

the horny-cute gasp of "wait a minute [we should do it on the dresser, follow me"] WE LOVE A WOMAN WHO SHOWS INITIATIVE

the way hongjo backed up against the dresser and shinyu followed her like she was his preyyy

she was smiling but he was on a MISSION TO GET BETWEEN THEM THIGHS

he lifted her up on the dresser like it was nothing 🥵🥵🥵

hooded eyes, jaw clenched, heavy breathing 🌶🌶🌶🌶 10/10

they both looked like they were just lost in the sounds and sensations like literally blissfully unaware of anything outside that room

god bless u and your hard work in the gym, rowoon, is that a 12-pack (thanks for zooming in on the ahem scar camera crew)

the way they cooperated in stripping shinyu's shirt off him, TEAMWORK MAKES THE DREAM WORK

his hands doing SOMETHING outside of the frame whatttt are they doingggg

him kissing her hard and pushing her down 😌😌🙌🥂

shinyu's big hand flexing on hongjo's thigh and calf like YES SIR, GRAB IT

hongjo grasping two fistfuls of his hair to keep him where she wanted him YES QUEEN

him helping her wrap her legs around him 🥵🥵🥵🍿🍿🍿🍷🍷

the final shot of hongjo's shirt slipping off her shoulders and him moving on top of her in a pose not dissimilar to dracula and mina's in that One Scene in the garden in bram stoker's dracula

they were feraaalll

no for real he might actually be part beast

no wonder because shinyu/mujin waited 300+ years to Do That

[ddarker-dreams]

☾ book recommendations: *✲⋆.

my all time favorites:

the brothers karamazov by fyodor dostoevsky

notes from underground by fyodor dostoevsky

the picture of dorian gray by oscar wilde

frankenstein by mary shelly

the plague by albert camus

we have always lived in the castle by shirley jackson

the seven who were hanged by leonid andreyev

blackshirts & reds by michael parenti

others that i'd recommend:

break the body, haunt the bones by micah dean hicks

tomie by junji ito

uzumaki by junji ito

berserk by kento miura

the haunting of hill house by shirley jackson

i have no mouth, and i must scream by harlan ellison

the tell-tale heart by edgar allen poe

the cask of amontillado by edgar allen poe

rebecca by daphne du maurier

wuthering heights by emily brontë

dune by frank herbert

a shadow over innsmouth by h. p. lovecraft

the color out of space by h. p. lovecraft

the dunwich horror by h. p. lovecraft

crime and punishment by fyodor dostoevsky

demons by fyodor dostoevsky

the idiot by fyodor dostoevsky

jane eyre by charlotte brontë

do androids dream of electric sheep? by philip k. dick

a long fatal love chase by louisa may alcott

the stranger by albert camus

the metamorphosis by franz kafka

the trial by franz kafka

dragonwyck by anya seton

discipline and punish by michel foucalt

the castle of otranto by horace walpole

faust by johann wolfgang von goethe

the fall by albert camus

the myth of sisyphus by albert camus

the strange case of dr jekyll and mr hyde by robert louis stevenson

blood meridian by cormac mccarthy (do look into the content warnings though, there's heavy violence/depictions of 1840s-1850s racism)

the death of ivan ilyich by leo tolstoy

the dead by james joyce

the overcoat by nikolai gogol

dead souls by nikolai gogol

hiroshima by john hersey

useful fictions: evolution, anxiety, and the origins of literature by michael austin

no exit by jean paule satre

candide by voltaire

white nights by fyodor dostoevsky

notes from a dead house by fyodor dostoevsky

the shock doctrine by naomi klein

the 100 year war on palestine by rashid khalidi

killing hope by william blum

the karamazov case: dostoevsky’s argument for his vision by terrence w. tilley

stiff: the curious life of human cadavers by mary roach

lazarus by leonid andreyev

imperialism, the highest stage of capitalism by vladmir lenin

the viy by nikolai gogol

dracula by bram stoker

carmilla by sheridan le fanu

nine coaches waiting by mary stewart

the phantom of the opera by gaston leroux

[vickyvicarious]

I noticed something that I thought you may find interesting as you like parallels: When Jack is on his rock bottom (July 20th), he says

To me it seems only yesterday that my whole life ended with my new hope, and that truly I began a new record. So it will be until the Great Recorder sums me up and closes my ledger account with a balance to profit or loss. Oh, Lucy, Lucy, I cannot be angry with you, nor can I be angry with my friend whose happiness is yours; but I must only wait on hopeless and work. Work! work! If I only could have as strong a cause as my poor mad friend there—a good, unselfish cause to make me work—that would be indeed happiness.

On October 3 Jonathan starts his journal like this:

As I must do something or go mad, I write this diary. [...] Poor Mina told me just now, with the tears running down her dear cheeks, that it is in trouble and trial that our faith is tested—that we must keep on trusting; and that God will aid us up to the end. The end! oh my God! what end?... To work! To work!

It's pretty fascinating how Jonathan starts his narration as a hopeful, enthusiastic man, full of purpose, and becomes similar to the wreck that Jack was at the start, post-rejection, losing hope and clinging furiously to working, to not lose his mind.

Work! To work! That is a fun parallel to be sure...

Actually, I've noted before that Jonathan and Jack start out in opposition to one another in a lot of ways:

engaged to be married vs proposal rejected

recent career advancement and excited about it vs already well established but still clearly wanting to make his mark somehow

held prisoner by someone who calls him 'friend' and abuses power over him vs abusing the power he holds over someone in his care who he calls 'friend' (and all the various subsets of this one, such as 'gets his correspondence read' to 'reads private diary of his patient', etc.)

isolated by force vs chooses to isolate himself (not entirely but he definitely does retreat into work)

sleep-deprived due to being forced into a nocturnal schedule vs appears to regularly suffer insomnia/have bad habits around sleep

coded secret diary on pencil and paper vs audio diary spoken aloud into a phonograph at work

In the very beginning, Jonathan is also looking forward very much to his future, while as you point out, Jack is pretty miserable. He is ending his former life, closing a chapter. Meanwhile Jonathan is starting one - though it doesn't turn out to be the one he expects by any means.

I've not really considered the ways that those comparisons may shift later, though. October 3rd is definitely a close to a former chapter/life and the start of a new one for Jonathan. And he too struggles a lot with keeping up hope and throws himself into his work, his cause.

(While Jack wished in vain for a cause that would let him throw all his morals away, and looks to the idea of that as something that would make the work more effective in easing his own distress, Jonathan has a cause right away. And he later determines that he will throw his morals away if it come to that but is working ceaselessly to ensure it won't. Though he too has plenty of moments when there is no real action he can take and he "must only wait on hopeless" while they are trying to catch Dracula's ship.)

And while Jonathan never is romantically rejected, there's later a door shut between him and Mina, and there's this huge unspoken tension of what to do if she becomes a vampire. On the other hand, Jack was never accepted as Lucy's lover, but he does later on get closer to her as a friend while she is his patient. Their careers also switch emphasis a bit; though both abandon everything to go vampire hunting, prior to that Jonathan inherits everything and can put his name on it, while Jack is exhausted from treating Lucy and not keeping up super well with his work/patients. Increasingly after his arrival but especially when chasing after Dracule, Jack is in fairly close communication with Van Helsing and working as a team, but Jonathan gets very quiet and withdrawn when Mina is turning into a vampire (he always was but when he's not all living flame, in the aftermath of October 3 he appears even more so). We even get a little bit of Jonathan refusing to sleep when he should/can (until Arthur convinces him), while Jack is traveling at a rapid pace but his likely sacrifice of sleep is necessary to keep up that pace (and he claims it doesn't bother him). Jonathan kills his former captor/abuser. Jack's patient dies after he refused to let him leave when he begged to do so.

...If I'm looking for them, I can definitely find various ways they continue to be in contrast later in the novel as well.

[see-arcane]

Since filmakers like paying homage to older films and putting references, I'd be cool if a future Dracula movie referenced the new Nosferatu.

For example, at one point Jonathan does the thing in the book where he secretly looks at the Count's papers and correspondence about non-Purfleet properties, and sees about Exeter among them. ...Cue horror, quiet not to out himself, breathing 'Mina' upon realizing how much he'd said about her on the first days. But he gathers himself and after he leaves the study he makes a note. Time passes, and on the last day he demands to leave as promised. "Come, my dear young friend. Not an hour shall you wait in my house against your will. But I am in hopes that I shall see more of you at Castle Dracula.” Unlocks the door. "Or on Exeter. Now we are neighbors." Jonathan can barely react to the reveal that Dracula knew all along, as he opens the door to the snarling of wolves.

Or some other way to use the "neighbors" line, I like it.

Ooooooh, I could definitely see that. A little final 'cordial' knife twist before he actually gets to pouncing on him

[blackleatherjacketz]

The Notebook

Javier Peña x Female Reader

Summary: Your coworker, Javier, finds some of your erotic writings in your notebook and takes a very special interest in them.

Warnings: 18+ Only!, Explicit Smut, Mature Content, Humiliation Kink, Invasion of Privacy, Javier invading your personal space, Dracula Fan Fiction, Stealing, Teasing, Taunting, Alcohol, Kissing, Writing Kink, Javier wanting you to talk him through it, Vaginal Fingering, Finger Sucking, Face Grabbing, Neck Kissing, Neck Sucking/Biting, Vaginal Sex, Woman On Top, Orgasm Delay

Word Count: 3.6k+

Notes: This may or may not be inspired by true events.

Tags: @bullet-prooflove @skittle479 @letsby

This day has dragged on long enough, your office’s efforts in catching Escobar sluggish at best as Peña paces around the busy office with his hands on his hips. His stance accentuates the muscles in his back as they flex in aggravated tension through his dress shirt, his rugged features twisting with worry as he slowly turns to face you.

“You got anything?” He asks, waltzing over to your desk. “Any random phone calls or photographs we might have overlooked?” He gives you a glance reminiscent of the one he shot you at last year’s Christmas party, one that sent shivers down your spine then and is well on its way to doing so now.

“Nothing I haven’t already shown you.” You shrug your shoulders as you watch him saunter around your desk, running his thumb and forefinger over his mustache before planting himself proudly onto a stack of your papers.

You’d seen him do this to Murphy dozens of times before, but he’d never had the audacity to do it to you until now. He’d never gotten close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off his body, hear the rhythm of his breathing or feel the roughened texture of his pants as his thigh brushes against your elbow. The scent of smoke and whiskey surrounds you as your heart begins to flutter in response, making you well aware of the attraction you’ve been trying to hide for months now as he leans in close to see what you’ve been writing.

“Wait, what does that say?” He leans in closer to get a better look before placing his hand on top of yours, grazing his index finger over your hurried handwriting as your heart skips a beat. “Peña doesn’t believe me?”

He snatches the notebook right out of your hands, standing up to read your most pertinent notes on the case out loud for everyone in the office to hear. He takes his time rifling his way through its weathered pages, picking and choosing phrases he finds to be interesting as his large fingers spread each sheet of paper apart from the next. Those mischievous eyes of his glance up at you in between his redundant narrations until he gets to the very back of the book, a section you’ve always kept to yourself.

“Peña, stop!” You stand up from your seat and lean forward, reaching out to him as he playfully pulls it away just in time. He’s never shown any interest in your notes before. You have no idea what could have changed that now.

“Por qué?” He raises an eyebrow and steps back just far enough to sit down on top of his own desk, the skin around his eyes creasing with intrigue. “Is this your diary or something?”

You shoot him a look that tells him he should know better; a look you hope to be just as threatening as it is pleading while he holds your innermost thoughts and desires hostage. You try your best to avoid telling the entire office what’s inside, but you can’t expect him to know that you’ve written your own erotic version of ‘Dracula’ in the back of the book he holds in his hands.

“Peña, please give it back!” You extend your arm out as far as you can, flexing your fingers toward him as he blatantly ignores your request.

Smiling wide, he enacts your biggest fear by reading your dark and dreary prose aloud, your words rolling off his tongue as if he’d written every one of them himself before reciting them to your peers. He looks up at you occasionally until he gets to a certain part of the story that shouldn’t be uttered in a place of business, let alone out loud at all. All of the sudden he gawks at you from atop his desk, his eyes growing darker as his mouth falls slack, his lips deepening into a vibrant shade of mauve.

Oh God, it’s too late. He’s seen too much.

Sweat begins to form at your temples as he turns the page, a single drop racing down your cheek as a lick of his lips makes you swallow hard before wiping away the evidence of your discomfort. Powerless to stop him, you attempt to busy yourself with whatever paperwork is in front of you, stapling random things together as he continues to read your deepest, darkest thoughts in the light of day. But it’s no use. You can still feel his eyes upon you, the heat radiating off of them practically cooking you from the inside out as everyone else around you moves on, unknowingly going about their business.

His silence remains heavy as his glare only deepens over the aged black leather of your personal ledger. Another page turns, the edge of the paper practically deafening against the hustle and bustle of the room as it scrapes across his calloused fingertips in what seems to be slow motion. You’d been in dozens of high stress scenarios on the job before, but nothing had frozen time or gotten your heart racing quite like this. Nothing had flushed your cheeks or shook your hands like this until he started looking at you like that.

“Hey, you got those financial reports I asked you for?” Murphy interrupts your thoughts by stepping directly into the line of fire.

“Uh, yeah, I uh…” you scramble, looking down at your desk to rid yourself of the unbearable heat of Peña’s eyes. It’s only now that you realize you’ve stapled a takeout menu to your paystub just in time for you to shove it under the rest of your disorganized papers.

“You okay?” Murphy tilts his head as he looks at you, glancing back at Peña before squinting as if to try and figure you out. “You look a little…”

You can see Peña shifting his weight out of the corner of your eye, no doubt getting to the part where Dracula bites the girl on her thigh and starts dining between her legs with a fervor you described in great length. You hold your breath and furtively watch him take in a slow, stifled one to match yours before he looks up at you in an almost… helpless manner. You notice his palm gently grazing over the bulge in his jeans as they gradually tighten around it, the space between his thighs shrinking as he brings them together in muffled frustration.

Is he…? Holy shit, he’s really enjoying himself.

“It’s nothing,” you reassure Murphy, sifting through your messy stack of papers until you find the ones that he’s after. “Women’s troubles, you know.” You wink at him before handing over the documents, knowing full well that was enough to steer him away from you in a heartbeat.

“Say no more!” He holds his hands up in defense before taking the paperwork from you. “I’ll leave you to it! Wouldn’t want to make you mad during that time of the month!”

You sneer at him until he takes the hint and walks away, clasping his hand onto Peña’s shoulder in order to get his attention. He leans in to tell him something inaudible, something about a lead they need to follow up on as Peña swallows hard, nodding to his partner in silence. You watch his Adam’s Apple bob up and down in his throat before he turns to stare at you like a jungle cat would his next meal, closing the book in his hands before shoving it into the hem of his pants for safekeeping.

“I’m gonna need that back before you go,” you remind him, remaining seated as you hold your hand out.

Grinning from ear to ear, he laughs to himself and slaps his knee before standing up from his perch on his desk. He slowly saunters toward you with your book tucked snugly between his hips. “But I haven’t finished it yet.”

“You don’t need to finish it, Peña.” You try to control your breathing as he gets closer to you, every vein in his neck and forearms popping against his skin as the tension between you builds. “Give it back.”

“You want it?” He leans forward and places his palms flat on your desk, bringing his gorgeous face mere inches away from yours.

“Please,” you attempt, your chest heaving.

He licks his lips and takes the pen right out of your hand just as quickly as he had your notebook, writing an address on the closest sticky note before turning it around to face you. “Come by my place later tonight and pick it up.”

————

It took you a while to muster up the courage to actually get in your car and drive over to Peña’s apartment a few hours later. You realized maybe a little too late that if he really wanted to embarrass you, that if he hated whatever you’d written down on those pages that he wouldn’t have taken it home for him to finish later. You tell yourself that if he didn’t at least want you in some capacity after reading that about you, he wouldn’t have invited you over here tonight at all. So, you decide to show up and act confident enough in who you are and what you’ve written, hoping that maybe this night won’t turn out so bad after all.

Just as you expected, he’s all but smirking when he opens the door to his apartment, eyes taking you in as he leans in against the doorframe just a little too long. His tie is nowhere to be found and the first few buttons of his shirt are undone just enough to show the sweat glistening across his muscular chest as it rises and falls with your arrival. “Took you long enough.”

“Where’s my notebook, Peña?” You try not to stare at him for more than a few seconds as he steps back just far enough to grant you entry, his scent intoxicating you once again as he towers over you.

“It’s over there,” he mutters. “And call me Javi.” He points to the coffee table with a nearly empty glass of whiskey in his hand. “You want a drink?”

“Sure, Javi.” You try on his first name with a smile, seeing how it feels in your mouth as you make your way over to the sofa, sitting down in front of the messy coffee table. Your notebook lays in the midst of scattered ashtrays and coffee mugs, the edges of it bent a little bit more than you’d like. “I assume you’ve read everything in here, then?”

“A few times, yeah,” he admits, glass clinking behind you before he returns with a full drink in each hand, sitting down next to you.

“I didn’t know you were such a huge Dracula fan,” you tease, forcing yourself to play the part of your confident protagonist as you take your drink from him.

“Neither did I.” He winks at you like he winks at everyone, only this time that salacious glare stays on his features as he lifts the amber liquid to his lips. “You’re a really fucking good writer, you know that?”

“Yeah,” you wink back.

“Humble, too.” He takes a sip of alcohol, nodding toward the infamous notebook as he shifts his weight to disguise the act of scooting even closer to you. “There’s some real sick shit in there, you know that?”

“You seemed to like it just fine.” You remind him with a quick sip, wincing as it washes over your tongue and down into your stomach, warming you to the very core. You’d be lying if you said you hadn’t replayed the image of him rubbing his jeans in the middle of the office over again in your head on the drive over here.

He only laughs as you call him out, nodding unapologetically as his breath fogs up the glass around his mustache. “Oh, I’m not complaining.” He sets his drink down on the table before grabbing hold of your knee as if he’d done so a thousand times before, squeezing it affectionately. “You know that.”

You do now.

“Do I?” You let him touch you as you down the rest of your drink, relishing in this moment that you’ve been fantasizing about for far too long as his fingers curl beneath your thigh, tugging it towards him.

“So how long has it been since you’ve done anything like that?” His voice drops an octave as he slowly turns you toward him, the darkness in his eyes engulfing his usual chestnut hue as a strand of hair falls in front of them.

“You mean since I’ve been bitten by a vampire?” You chide, feeling the warmth from your drink spread from your arms and legs out into your fingers and toes.

Now it’s his turn to give you a knowing look.

“A while,” you admit, letting him carefully spread your legs apart as the moisture you so eloquently described in your writings begins to collect between them. “What was your favorite part?”

“All of it.” He holds eye contact with you while his hand grazes up your thigh toward your junction, his fingertips barely sliding beneath the cotton of your underwear before he pauses. “You really experience pleasure like that?”

“Sometimes,” you nod, lifting your leg up onto his lap as he guides it there with his opposite hand. “If I’m lucky.”

He grins and pulls the soft fabric to the side, studying your face as he dips his digits into the moisture between your folds as a hushed moan barely escapes your lips. He brings his mouth just a breath away from yours as he spreads your slick up and down your seam, delicately lubricating your now puffy lips before coating your swollen bud up and down with your arousal.

“What are you feeling now?” He whispers, his question hot on your skin as he excites the neurons in your most sensitive spot.

“What?” You’re barely able to ask, his fingers pushing and pulling against your clit in a torturously slow and pedantic pattern.

“Describe it to me,” he slides his fingers down inside your heat, his thumb pressing against your bud as your walls instinctively squeeze around him. “Describe it like you would in your writing.”

What?

“Mmm…I… you feel… electric,” you start out almost stuttering, still shocked at his unique request as he glides up at the most euphoric angle. “Your fingers are sending little… fuck, Javi!”

“I knew I liked hearing you call me that.” He kisses your lips as you try to find the right words in the moment, to convey the utter bliss he’s sending up into your core as your hips roll against his wrist again and again. But the pleasure he’s giving you is so intense that it blocks out any logical form of thinking, erasing any linguistic mastery you may possess as his bold request remains unfulfilled.

You lift your hand to hold onto his face as you moan against his mouth, tasting the flavor of whiskey you both shared as the hair of his mustache tickles your skin. He moans along with you, your growing euphoria seeming to give him just as much satisfaction as he pushes his fingers in deeper than yours could ever reach. In and out, they nearly brush against your cervix as he continues massaging your bud, exciting each and every nerve ending along your soaking wet walls as they grip around him, clenching in delight. His groans vibrate against your lips as he breathes in your hushed whispers, your failed attempts at any literary description of what he’s doing to your body until it’s finally about to give way.

“Tell me how you taste,” he pulls his fingers out just as you’re about to climax, shoving them into your mouth as you whine in stifled protest.

Your eyes widen as he pushes in past your lips, that zesty flavor settling into your taste buds as you wrap your tongue around his fingers to pinpoint the notes of your juices. He watches you, utterly rapt as you take him in up to his knuckles, your spit all but spilling out of the corners of your mouth before he reluctantly takes them out.

“Well?” He sucks them into his own mouth to get a taste, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline as he awaits your answer.

“I taste tangy,” you manage to say as you watch him savor the little bit of flavor you’d left for him, his full lips glistening in your sex. “Tart with a little bit of sweetness.”

“Tastes like you were about to come.” He grasps onto your chin, smearing the brink of your orgasm across your face as he brings his lips to your cheek, pressing hungry kisses into your jawline. “Now, what kind of story would that be if I let you come that quickly, huh?”

“I, uh…” you mutter as his lips reach yours, slowing down the synapses in your body with each prolonged kiss as his fingers weave their way into your hairline. “Not a very good one.”

“No, not at all,” he whispers, sucking your bottom lip into his mouth before letting it bounce back into place.

He grabs hold of your hips and pulls you onto his lap as he kisses his way down your face and neck, just as fervently as you’d written in your book. You hiss as his tongue barely softens the blow before his teeth scrape against your flesh, latching onto your throat in order to suck your pulse into his mouth in a delicious twinge of pain. It’s as if he’d memorized every word you’d written down, following the map of intimacy you so blatantly laid out for him as he pays perfect attention to your most erogenous zones. His hands accompany his mouth by needily grazing over the muscles in your back, massaging them on their way down to pull you near before grasping onto your cheeks.

You run your fingers through his hair as his kiss deepens, darkening your bruise with a soft hum that sounds more like a whimper as you grind your soaking wet mound over his clothed erection in urgent desire.

“Don’t think you’re gonna make yourself come like that,” he breaks free from his bite, bringing you out of it with a harsh smack to your ass.

“No?” You ask, wondering just how long you can prolong your release.

He bucks his hips up just enough to slide his thumbs beneath the fabric of his jeans, freeing himself in one fluid motion as his pants rest just below his knees. “I wanna feel it, too.”

Jesus Christ, he’s huge.

He licks his fingers and drags them slowly up your length as you hover over him, smirking as he tugs on your clit one more time before finally stroking himself.

“Tell me how it feels.” He looks up at you and grabs onto your face while coating himself in your sex, your juices already dripping down his shaft and onto his pelvis before you open your mouth to speak.

“My skin’s on fire, Javi, I’m so… aching for you,” you whisper incoherently as you look into his eyes, resisting the temptation to watch him line up with your entrance as he stimulates you with the tip of his cock. “I’m tingling with pleasure, but it’s not enough, I need you inside me.” His girth cuts you off as you slowly sink down onto him, his head already stretching your walls in pulses of ecstasy as they gradually expand around him.

“Good,” he huffs, placing his other hand on your hip as you take him in completely, his eyes instinctively rolling back in his head before he has the chance to look back up at you. “Tell me more, baby.”

“Fuck, you’re big, Javi,” you mumble as the pet name nearly takes you out, your inner walls already quaking around him as he pushes in up to the hilt. His other hand snakes its way across your hip, grabbing onto your ass as he thrusts up into you, his size stretching you out inch by inch as you rise and fall onto him at a desperate, delicious pace. “I’m gonna feel you for days after this,” you mutter, nearly out of breath. “Feel so empty without you.”

“Yeah?” He tightens his grip on your face before turning you on your back, thrusting in even deeper to trigger that cascade of pleasure that can only come from hitting that bundle of nerves he’s been dancing around all night. He grunts as he feels you begin to seize around him, loosening his grip on your face before sliding it down to your throat as he drives those surges of bliss up into your spine, one right after another.

“Javi, you’re making me come!” You whimper, mewling beneath him as he ignites your entire body with a thousand tiny explosions, sparks of euphoria practically shooting out of your fingers and toes as you contract around him like a mad woman.

“Good girl,” he growls before losing himself inside you, too caught up in his own pleasure to demand your verbal description as he slams his hips against your thighs at a violent, erratic pace, straining every muscle in your body as he spasms within the confines of your velvety grasp. “Fuck!”

You wrap your legs around his back as the aftershock courses its way through you, his thrusts barely slowing down as he spills his release inside you with reckless abandon. He looks like a wild animal as he builds onto your pleasure, his eyes blackened with lust as he grunts and growls into you, forcing it to wreak havoc on your system as you rattle and hum uncontrollably. His abs contract as he pushes in deeper with each twitch of his dick, sending you even further over the edge as his eyes fall shut in sheer delight before eventually slowing his rhythm.

“That’s one for the books, huh?” He asks, resting his forehead against yours before kissing your cheek.