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#this is unbelievably wanton
littlelioncub43 · 1 year
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Eddie Munson is always in the mood for nasty, slutty hickies. Doesn't care where you are. If your neck looks especially delicious, he's going for it, and he expects you to return the favor.
You're damn right, he is
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With all that free relaestate 🤤
He makes time to give you hickies, weekly. As long as you're down and ok with it, the man is mouthing at your jaw nearly daily, it doesnt matter what you're doing. You could be washing your dishes, folding your laundry, or anything and he'll sneak up behind you, trap you in one of those intoxicatingly sweet back hugs and let his lips work their magic along your skin.
"Eddie, baby, what are you doing?"
"M'writing my name in hickies," he chuckles, "now, hush, I need to concentrate."
He has also totally cum in his pants from you giving him hickies. It was just a culmination of everything that was just too much, too perfect for him to take. You were in his lap, front seat of the van, going at him like a fucking feral animal and he was enjoying every second of it. He could feel you rutting into him, your hands caressing his jaw to hold his head to the side for you to kiss and suck and bite— he felt so exposed and vulnerable while also feeling unbelievably desired and consumed.
One well timed kiss/bite/suck combo to the special spot on his already marked up neck sent him to the Afterlife.
"JESUS CHRIST!" He arched his back, moaned like a wanton whore and then proceeded to cum in his pants. The way you cooed at him and cradled him to you did not help him at all, if anything it made him cum even harder.
But man, the look on Wayne's face when he sees the disheveled mess that is his nephew when Eddie comes home— priceless.
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bhaalism · 1 month
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— he says my name (and I come so hard I'd marry him)
› ascended astarion x f! cleric reader
› wc: 7k+
› a/n: reader isn't tav. I liked the idea of someone sworn against the undead setting their sights on him but he's just amused with someone that seriously thinks they can kill him so he gets intrigued by you like yes dear of course you can try killing me but also can we kiss? :3
warnings : mentions of violence, blood, killing, decapitation, restraints, weapons, vaginal oral, biting, hickies, piv, sacrilege ish, masturbation, creampie
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Your father. His father. And his even before that had been members of the cloister. As are you.
Any beings that have somehow fallen outside the purview of Kelemvor must be corrected, guided even if by sharpened stake back to his waiting judgement. So it was always told, you had a god gifted duty as a cleric to not only provide last rites across Faerûn but to dispose of any undead creature along the way.
And you made sure those teachings were soaked into the very fabric of your being, carved into your mind with pen and with blade.
And it's now that you need those teachings more than ever, because the creature you've set your sights on isn't something as easy to deal with as a stray spawn or even a true vampire. No, you'd heard tell of a profane rite that had been performed right inside the Gate, a wanton affront to your deity in every possible way.
It would not, could not, be tolerated.
And you knew he had received word you were present in the Gate. A fellow cleric had been traveling with you but disappeared one night as you two had made your way from Rivington to the Lower City, vanished as a wisp of smoke does in the air. It was only when his head was quietly delivered to the door of your room at the tavern that you'd felt something akin to righteous anger and a bone deep fear.
Griefs waters were vast but vengeance would serve as a necessary buoy and you would grip it until there were claw marks against its proverbial surface. For his sake, and yours, you would have it.
Over the next two weeks you remained locked inside your reserved room, pouring over any available information on this rite and on how an ascendant would differ from a traditional true vampire. Information was scarce, frustratingly so. This so called rite of profane ascension had never been performed previously, as it required an infernal pact with the Archdevil Mephestophelies and the sacrifice of seven thousand souls. The diabolist had only been able to tell you that much, to your chagrin.
It was more than an affront. It was the deepest of slights. Who is one man to damn seven thousand souls for his own gain? Disgust curled hot and tight in your gut, growing each day like a snake gorging on mice. But you had to play this smart, you were at an inherent disadvantage here despite your deity's blessings, he knew that and no doubt believed a single cleric would pose no significant threat.
You knew the man masqueraded as one of the city's nobility, as vampires often do, and commandeered his spawn from the Crimson Palace. A gauche name, but vampires are so often fond of excess and displays of power, even in just a simple name. Finding the palace hadn't been an issue the hulking gothic architecture a signature tell among the other perfectly ordinary buildings.
It was entering and remaining hidden that posed the greatest risk. The city streets truly only gave a temporary illusion of safety, but it wasn't unwelcome and you felt you'd gotten all the time possible to prepare.
The only thing left to do was find a way past those abysmal gates.
~
As you crept around the perimeter of the walls you kept running through the list of things in your head that were of particular importance.
No weakness to sunlight.
That was the largest one, almost unbelievable that an infernal ritual could grant the ability of mortal men to the undead. No wonder he had an even easier time of blending in, this Lord Ancunín. Even a true vampire had to be worried about the constant threat of townspeople unmasking them for the monsters they were, but obviously no such threat existed for him to the same degree.
There weren't many spawn or enthralled guards around the perimeter, it made your temper flare. More evidence of his self assuredness, almost flaunting how decidedly unafraid he was of anything outside the palace walls. You gripped your small bag tighter, peering around a slightly crumbling section of the stone wall, finding a tidy rose garden devoid of any other life.
The hair on the back of your neck stood on end, and not just because of your nerves but because of how utterly silent it was. As if the palace was abandoned despite its overly manicured appearance, but you wouldn't be lulled into letting down your guard so easily.
Picking your way through carefully you found the paladian windows offered a view of an astonishingly large and equally vacant parlor, and seeing no other way in you carefully wrapped your cloak around one arm and fist before smashing the glass pane closest to your feet. Not ideal, even potentially stupid, but you weren't an overly stealthy assassin.
Gingerly you crawled through the opening after clearing away the stray jagged shards. The last thing you needed was a gash in your flesh, it would be like firing off a smokepowder bomb.
Alas, it would seem the parlor was not so vacant at all. A shadow fell over you and you didn't even have time to glance up in horror before a decisive blow landed on the back of your neck, stunning you and leaving you slumped in a pile of glass as the world slid away in shades of grey.
~
You groaned, a pounding ache in your head and a ringing in your ears that was like tower bells clanging stirred you from your uncomfortable slumber. As you jerked forward you realized you were bound, and your eyes took a few beats too long to readjust to the darkness.
You lifted your head with a wince, taking in the sight of a bedchamber but before you could pick apart any details of your newfound jail a voice taunted you from beside the bed.
"So the slumbering beauty wakes. A terrible assassin you make my dear, though potentially a succulent meal."
Your body automatically recoiled to put as much distance between you and the owner of the voice as possible, but it was impeded by the restraints at your wrists. With your heart pounding so hard you were afraid you'd vomit it up you inspected the man beside you.
Lord Astarion Ancunín.
Handsome came to mind first, unbidden. He was undeniably gorgeous, silvery locks in half curls swept in an artful arrangement to frame his face. He didn't look like other vampires you'd encountered, his pallor wasn't that of the undead but of a living man. No trace of his nature was obvious save for in his eyes. Haughty, cruel eyes like cut rubies. Mesmerizing.
"So what are you doing here little lost cleric? Did you really believe you could end my life, perhaps win yourself a sliver of glory as my slayer?" His fangs flashed as he laughed, an operatic sound that made you set your jaw in defiance.
"Untie me and find out, abomination."
That earned you another laugh from him. "I almost don't want to eat you if you can promise you're always so entertaining."
Before you could retort his hand wrapped around your throat, yanking you forward as his eyes heavily scrutinized your face with an intense interest you couldn't quite place. It made you want to shy away, even more so when you realized his eyes had softened, barely an inch, as he took you in.
"I'll untie you if you join me for dinner this evening, little cleric." It left you stunned, the sheer nerve and self assuredness he possessed. "Don't worry, I won't demand you play nice."
"The longer you keep me awaiting an answer the more likely it is you become dinner." He said offhandedly.
You swallowed thickly, forcing the words out. "Since you're so sure I'm no threat to you I'll join you at your table."
Spawn you had failed to notice previously, so engrossed in him as you'd been, stepped forward to undo the straps around your wrists. Warily you withdrew into yourself a bit, rubbing the sore skin and watching as Astarion rose to leave the room you'd been sequestered to.
"I'll have gowns sent up, I can abide a little savagery but you won't grace my table looking like you crawled out of the bushes."
Everything about the conversation was beyond dizzying, and even moreso you couldn't say why you'd agreed in the first place. You should've railed against him and your confinement, spat curses and made sure that even if he killed you it would take some effort. But instead you're... having dinner with the beast.
True to his word blank faced spawn brought up a selection of gowns a short while later, finery the likes of which you'd never hoped to lay eyes on let alone wear. Everything in this palace dripped opulence, but you couldn't help suspecting it was covering for something else. A screaming distraction of glittering baubles.
A bath had been drawn for you in the adjoining washroom and the light scent of rosewater washed over your senses. You remained on edge as you stripped of your sweaty clothes and sank into the steaming water, taking in every detail of your surroundings with the uneasy feeling that perhaps this was just an odd, drawn out ritual and you would still very much so be dinner for this evening.
You remained there until the water became frigid, half afraid of being descended upon as soon as you left the bath. But no such violence ensued as you skittishly dried your hair, shrugging on a satin wrap that had been left for you on the bed.
What a peculiar beast. Is he in the habit of pampering every would-be killer that finds their way into his home you wonder as your hands run over the expensive fabrics of the gowns. Or is it something about being a different type of vampire that makes him this way?
As you began dressing you slid a vial of holy water into the bust of the dress, tucked snugly against your chest and working as an anchor to remind you of what you were really doing here. Not playing dress up like a child, but here to kill the scourge that so brazenly walked among the living.
~
The amount of freedom he'd already granted you was suspicious but ultimately useful for trying to gather a bit more information on his status as the vampire ascendant. Surely some records from the Hells must be kept in this place if it took a deal with an Archdevil to accomplish, they don't let their prey go so easily especially not after granting something nigh unheard of.
There was a door that caught your eye, at the end of the sweeping hallway and seeing as how there were no spawn or servants in sight you decided to do a little prying. Perhaps it was his laissez faire attitude towards you that made you decide to forgo attempted stealth again, after all the worst that could happen is that these false pleasantries are dropped and the real confrontation begins.
That made you smile, happy to feel the weight of the letter opener you'd found tucked against your thigh. An impromptu weapon was better than none, and either way you weren't completely powerless thanks to the spells and magic at your disposal.
At the end of the hall the door gave way under the slight pressure from your hand against the ornately carved, solid wood. The motif was swirling fleur-de-lis in stark relief, beautiful although a shame it had to reside in this place.
Stepping inside you failed to shut it behind you, so taken aback by the details of the room as you moved further inside. Rich jewel toned fabrics graced the surface of almost every piece of furniture, winking sconces affixed to the walls at intervals washed the room in comfortable amber light.
Tension enveloped you, there was no more dangerous place to be than what was obviously the Lord's bedchamber.
Before you could turn around to scuttle out an arm wrapped around your side, pulling your against an incredibly firm chest and drawing a sharp gasp from your lips.
"If you wanted to spend the evening in my bed, you could've simply asked."
"Let go of me!" You writhe in his hold, fingers clawing at the fabric of his sleeve as you struggle.
"It seems I caught a wildcat and not a cleric!" His voice oozed mockery, making your movements all the more desperate. "Now, now, I'm only trying to help."
As you wrenched yourself free, only because he let you, you stumbled away from him and hugged your arms tight to your chest. Curiously he was holding something, a scroll of some sort held out ever so slightly as he raised a brow at your harsh breathing.
"Yours for the taking, little cleric." His said.
Silence stretched out, uncomfortable and taut as you eyed his hand with suspension. "There's always a catch. What is it?"
A small huff of laughter passed his lips and he tucked the scroll away before closing the distance between you two rapidly. His speed rivaled any creature you'd tangled with before. Harshly he used his index to tilt your face upward from beneath your chin, making you grit your teeth.
"One night with me." He spoke plainly, taking your deep scowl as a signal to continue. "One night to decide if you truly want to kill me. If you have the mettle to do it."
For the first time you felt unwavering, as if your blood was replaced with pure iron. "Do you think I'd lay with you after you sent his head to me? I should ram this through your chest." Punctuating the last word you withdrew the letter opener, the gold glinting dangerously in the low lamplight.
You weren't interested in his reaction, only feeling anger that you'd temporarily forgotten yourself and nearly betrayed your entire purpose. Your entire self. As you lunged forward the gilded tip caught the front of his shirt, near the neckline, ripping it and the sound seemed to echo endlessly throughout the space, reverberated and refracted a hundred times in one second.
Before you could blink he had you by the throat, pinned to the plush bed before bearing his fangs millimeters from your face, your eyes tunnel visioning on the sharp ivory points. "You're oddly adorable swinging that around like you know what you're doing."
A wicked smile curved his lips as he leaned to whisper in your ear, his breath ghosting against the sensitive skin making a shiver rattle down your spine. "I did say that I didn't expect you to play fair, but you can't expect me to either, pet."
You whimper, frantic energy threatening to overtake your bodily senses. In reality no one had ever been so close to you before, physically. And certainly no one so threateningly enigmatic. You couldn't help the way you responded, feeling the tip of his nose trailing down from your ear to the point of your jugular thumping beneath the tender skin of your throat, could feel that his fangs were hovering right above it. It would be so easy for him, so easy for everything to be over-
A strangled gasp of shock was ripped from your lungs feeling him place a kiss so gentle it was practically chaste against your pulse. Just what sort of game was this? And why did you feel yourself start to relax in his hold? Gods he smelled of bergamot and something like sun ripened fruit, so sweet on the tongue you just want to chase after it.
Your body acted on the urge and chase after him you did. His lips felt ungodly soft beneath your own, and quickly it devolved into a mess of tongues and spit, his hand releasing your neck to caress a burning trail down your belly and it felt like he was trying to nap the inside of your mouth with his tongue.
The sudden change in tone between you two made your head spin, the contrast was dizzying and yet you didn't resist it. As he moved to crouch over you like a wolf devouring a lamb the kiss was broken and you drew ragged, heavy breaths as you watched him with wild eyed anticipation.
The hand at your belly moved in tandem with one of his legs to push open your own, fitting himself between as if the space were made for him. The dress you wore bunched up to accommodate and you could feel the air against your thighs, a phantoms caress moving in time with his own.
A sound more akin to an animals eek of surprise bubbled in your throat as he grabbed your hand, seemingly admiring it before speaking. "I do love hands that are capable of killing. But how... unsatisfying are they when it comes to more delicate matters?"
The blood rushing beneath your skin made your pulse pound in your ears as he brought your fingers to his lips. Those ruby eyes could devour you all on their own, his lips and teeth never entering the equation.
"Were you watching me at that inn?" You wince inside at how small your own voice sounded, how breathless.
He smirked, placing a kiss to the back of your hand before releasing it in favor of caging you with his forearms, your faces so close you could feel his lips brush against yours as he spoke.
"Well, it'd be a bit stupid to not keep an eye on such a zealous thing as you. Although I did enjoy the little show you put on, those adorable little sounds you made while biting your knuckles. How depraved you are, still getting horny even after a head is dropped on your doorstep." Every word dripped both mockery and lust down your throat, burning like a gulp of firewine.
And a part of you was enjoying it more than you could ever suffer admitting.
Before your poor mind could catch up to what was happening your body jerked violently feeling his fingers dip down to brush against your underwear, more specifically to feel just how wet you were through them.
"Not to worry, I'm here now, little love."
Another agonizing beat of silence as he took you in with smug satisfaction.
"Now, tell me what you want."
Your eyes held his for the first time since this encounter began, not shying away no matter how much your mind screamed to shrink in on yourself for defense. "I want you to go fuck yourself."
Any satisfaction from it was cut short as his laughter rang out, making your skin buzz like you'd been hit with lightning. His laugh was so beautiful-
"Why in the hells would I do that when I've got such a wonderful thing right here beneath me?"
Your lungs practically squeezed as he moved downward, hands sliding a scorching trail up your inner thighs to find their grip at your hips as he ducked down, remarking that trail with messy, open mouthed kisses and the faintest brush of fangs. You were shaking in his hold, the war between duty and lust raging inside your head despite the fact there was a clear losing side.
"Don't be afraid, darling. They can't hurt you unless I want them to." The tips of his canines were like blinding lights, robbing you of the ability to focus on anything else.
The sensation of his tongue giving languid licks to your inner thighs made you raise you hips, squirming against the bed while his hands gingerly worked to hold you in place. "You just have to say yes to me."
That single word left your lips with the same reverence as prayer did, and without wasting a moment Astarion dipped his head back down between your legs, shamelessly tasting you through the fabric. It made your breath hitch, thigh muscles flexing as your legs propped themselves on his shoulders.
All thoughts of commitment and duty vacated you as your underwear was pulled to the side, the only thing you had room for was him and the way he sucked on your throbbing clit like a starved man sucking his fingers after a meal. Pleasure rolled over the front of your mind like thick molasses, drowning your body in heightened sensations and your fingers threaded through his silken silver locks desperately trying to find some mooring.
Like carrion you yielded to your consumption at the hands of your sworn enemy, reveled in it in such a way that if anyone were to know of this blatant betrayal you'd surely be killed for it. The disconnected thought didn't strike fear into your heart, simply passing as a breeze does through ones hair.
With a cry of his name Astarion pulled back from your clit with a little wet pop, his movements all predatory as he came back up to face you.
That moan spelled his victory with every syllable in your strangely twisted confrontation, and you could taste his arrogance and satisfaction mingled with your own taste as his tongue found yours yet again. Experimentally you nip at his bottom lip, gently tugging on it and enjoying the little noise of surprise that came from him.
It felt like you were helplessly strapped to a burning pyre, craving more of the flame lapping at your skin. "I want more, please," you breathed out, completely lost in his current, in blissful free fall from the heights you'd previously enjoyed in your calling.
He would've been the fool if he refused you, and it seemed the time for teasing was passed as he sucked at the skin of your throat and undid his trousers. You watched as he gave himself a few experimental tugs, nearly moaning seeing his thumb smearing precum around.
"If I'm lucky enough to live, I'll have this sight for more than just a single evening." The nod to your earlier proposition nearly went over your head, as did his continued mockery of you, but before you could respond he was already pushing against your entrance, making your eyes screw shut and your mouth drop open.
"You've got to stop- clenching." He hissed, the second time you'd seen him loose composure this evening. It seems an ascended vampire does have one weakness: a warm, pliant body. The thought would've made you laugh if you weren't too busy drowning in the feeling of being stretched and molded around him, your body greedily accepting his intrusion as if it were routine.
Maybe it will be.
It couldn't be clearer how utterly thrilled Astarion was to see you submit, back arched and mewling like a helpless kit against all he was giving you. Only when he was to the hilt and the most pornographic sounds yet left your lips did he start moving.
Despite the slow speed, his thrusts were deep enough for your legs to start shaking as they struggled to wrap around his hips. The way he cradled your face was as a genuine lover would, and all you could do was cling to him as every stroke worked to tighten the coil of pleasure in your belly.
Everything was forgotten, forgiven, as your moans became a distant far away sound to you and as your muscles ached from how hard you were flexing them. This was no beast above you. A beast wouldn't touch you like this, care for you like this. You didn't feel him slipping the small vial of holy water you'd hidden, only opening your eyes when he commanded you to open your mouth.
Deliriously you did, half wondering if he was going to spit in your mouth, before seeing the shining tinted glass. Against the sound of skin smacking and the obscenely wet noises punctuating his thrusts you eagerly accepted a grotesque version of communion as the now warmed liquid slid down your throat.
Your fingers found your aching clit again, desperate to throw yourself headlong off the cliff but as the vial emptied and was tossed away on the bed his jealous fingers replaced yours, coaxing you to orgasm with every circle of his lithe index.
Pure feeling, like a bolt of thunder from the sky, overwhelmed your brain to the point it was almost fried. The spiral was sharp and steep, like being sucked beneath the most powerful wave and your poor body was helpless to the pounding current. The thought of driving that letter opener into his chest was very, very far away. In fact it felt like a thought belonging to someone else entirely.
The feeling of his movements becoming sloppy, though no less paced, brought you back into the present moment and you quickly felt warmth spread inside you with each stick spurt of cum that your body covetously accepted.
As the high faded it brought clarity, sharp enough to maim.
You'd taken the deal, one night to decide if you truly want to kill me. Lazy satisfaction played across your lips as you absentmindedly carded your fingers through his hair as he was still lavishing your neck and clearly intent on making you dinner regardless, although without killing you.
If a long game was required, you could muster up the patience. Plus, would it be so bad getting to indulge in a night like this more than once?
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schnarfer · 22 days
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Go Your Own Way - A Javier Peña One Shot
Young Javier Peña x f!reader
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Rating: Explicit 18+ minors dni
Word count: 10,868
Summary: Loving you isn’t the right thing to do
Content: 1979 Texas, very toxic relationship, sort of enemies to lovers if you squint a bit, absolutely no happy ending for our fuckboy Javier, no descriptions of reader except she has hair and there are outfit references, no specific ages mentioned in 1979 but they would both be early 20’s, Cheating/infidelity mentioned, smoking (OF COURSE), mention of drinking and drugs, two mentions of vomit, the good stuff? we’ve got flirting, kisses and smut; protected PIV, oral (f receiving), fingering, very light dirty talk, couple of light slaps, pet names (cariño, baby), Javier POV, I’ve tried to remove any overt British-isms but some may have slipped in, probably a bit of canon divergence, as well as wild historical and geographical inaccuracies but we’re going for vibes, yeah? and a note, we’re always Fleabag coded here. Let me know if I’ve missed anything. Over 18’s on pls and thank you.
A/N: OH BOY, when I say this one got under my skin. There are some very personal inspiration points for this and although I know I might disappoint some of you with the no happy ending for Javier, it’s what I always had in mind. Writer of emotional torment here, at your service. I can’t wait to hear what you guys think. Enjoy your visit to 1979 Texas and the fuckboy of all fuckboys that is young Javier Pena. I managed to slip in a Kate Nash lyric and a Taylor one, bonus points for anyone who can spot them.
Unbelievably huge thanks to my darling @pascalssbabyy for her unending support and to @katareyoudrilling for being my specialist advisor, including a deep dive into the history of Texas Universities. You guys are literally the best. Dividers by @saradika
Header Pic Important note: that’s not reader, that’s our beloved Stevie Nicks 🖤 All pics from pinterest.
Listen to: The whole of the Fleetwood Mac Rumours album, but specifically ‘Go your own way’. As a little treat you could maybe have a cry to Dusty Springfield’s ‘Son of a Preacher Man.’  
Go Your Own Way
Texas, 1979
Kingsville, Texas, is not a big town. Gossip spreads like wildfire, it’s practically the local pastime.
People around the same age, they brush up against each other in small ways that don’t always leave a mark, but names and deeds don’t easily get forgotten. Every time you’ve seen him, Javier Peña has made an impression. Not always a good one.
The first time you were barely a woman, fifteen and on the cusp of something. Stood under the festoon lights, holding an illicit bottle of beer which you didn’t much care for the taste of. There’s a carnival in town and everyone is here; young families, teenagers looking for trouble, old biddies tipsy on the punch that’s being served with wanton abandon.
Javier Peña is always full named, or slyly referred to as ‘the asshole’ by your guy friends. He’s a year older than you, brimming with a confidence that makes you giggle. As in, you literally giggled when being introduced. According to him, you and your girlfriends actually gasped. Recollections may differ.
What you do remember is that he was the type of man, boy then really, who induced giggling. Impossibly big, dark eyes framed by slightly scruffy dark locks, broad shoulders under a black leather biker jacket that led to an obscenely small waist in his slightly flared jeans. You can’t remember if you spoke to each other, but you do recall a break in his unreadable face for the briefest flash of a bright white smile in your direction. It’s there secured in your memory as the first time you met, and no amount of scrubbing can remove it.
The next time? A few years later, a house party, more illegal beers. They’re beginning to taste a bit better now. You hated to sit still at these things, fuck sitting pretty as if waiting for someone to approach you; you liked to wander around and chat (ok fine, flirt) with people. You resolutely refused to be a wallflower. Maybe have a little tug on a doobie if there had been one going.
You can remember exactly what you were wearing, low slung denim flares with your worn red Chuck Taylor’s, tiny little flower gypsy top that bared your whole midriff, matching daisies in your hair. You’d had a big, loose knit cardigan on when you left the house as your Mom would have just about passed out if she’d realised how much flesh you were going to have on display. A more lackadaisical mother ran this house, as was evident by the overflowing rooms filled with canoodling, grooving teens and the record player belting out the Stones.
Where were you? Oh yes, you were singing along to Jimi’s Foxy Lady and weaving your way through the crowd when you found yourself pressed up close to Javier Peña in the doorway. You’d muttered a ‘sorry’, but the warmth of your eyes on him and the way you bit your lower lip showed him that you didn’t have an ounce of real apology in you. Up close, you’d admired his fine aquiline nose and golden skin, soaking in his liquid brown eyes. He’d let his hands trace down your naked waist, holding you firmly by the hips before he’d given you the lightest of pinches.
“That’s alright my friend.” His voice was low, softer than you would expect, it had settled into you.
An electricity seemed to flow between you, his touch had ignited a light in your eyes that travelled to your lips, made you smile at him with a turn of your features that bordered on a smirk. With that one look, that one grasp, he’d made you feel powerful. You’d never felt that before.
Yet you’d walked away, ended up chatting to a fairly ordinary boy by a bookcase for the rest of the evening. An energy existing in you that gave you a certainty you didn’t normally possess, flirtatious glances shared with Javier Peña throughout the evening.
He had unquestionably made quite the entry in your diary that night.
You’d continued to circle each other at different events, always catching each other’s eye but never doing anything about it, as if you both knew somehow that your time would come.
And now? Now you’re sat across from him in a college bar, trying to work out what the fuck is happening.
There are five of you around the table and it already feels complicated, messy. Classic small town politics but moved to the marginally more anonymous location of Texas A&M University. Gossip is still the lifeblood of almost everyone here, but at least it moves at a slightly slower pace than home. The walls don’t feel quite so close.
Sat next to you, your best friend Grace; single, footloose and fancy free, devastatingly beautiful, making some big eyes at Javier Peña. Next to her, your close friend Lucy, who happens to be going out with Javier’s best friend Danny. Finally, seated next to you? A lovely boy that goes by Billy, who you’d been seeing for a short time during your first year here. It had fizzled out after a few dates, but he still seems to be harbouring a bit of crush.
See… complicated.
In the middle of it all, Javier Peña is brooding. Looking at you like he’s either going to devour you or try and wring your neck. As if there’s not a jumble of shouting and tequila shots and too loud disco music all around him. That it could just be you and him in the bar, sat under a twinkling glitterball with Chic blasting in the background.
There’s talk of a girlfriend, his girlfriend. And, well, you’re seeing someone, so what the fuck is with this energy that’s threatening to tip you off balance? That’s making it so you can’t take your eyes off him; you feel like he’s peeling off layers of your clothes with the power of his thoughts - leaving you naked and exposed.
Poor, sweet Billy can see it, watches dumbly as something unspoken drenches the air between you all. A want that’s making you breathless. Grace pulls at your hand, breaking you out of the spell Javier Peña has on you for a moment.
“Hun, I’m gonna go to the bathroom, you coming too?”
“Sure thing Gracie, I could do with some air actually.”
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Nobody had wanted to leave you two alone, you can see a weariness in their eyes, a hesitation that something dangerous is lurking between the two of you. The status quo is about to be disrupted. You don’t care. You’ve engineered it so it’s finally just you and Javier sat back at the table by the bar; you slipped away from the girls in a circle round their handbags on the dance floor and now your elbows are leant on the sticky surface of the round table, as you toy with the straw in your southern comfort and coke. Knees almost touching, out of sight.
“My friend Billy’s in love with you, that’s why I’m not going to fuck you.”
You splutter out your drink, not the opening to the conversation you were expecting. Why can’t Javier Peña just be normal for once?
“Sorry, what?”
He repeats it slowly, obviously enjoying every syllable, “Billy is in love with you.” Takes a sip of his whiskey, “Which is why I’m not going to fuck you.”
It’s absolutely maddening, this sureness he has, this self-assurance that oozes out of him. You feel pissed at him all of a sudden, how dare he think he could even touch you? What right does he have to share sweetBilly’s inner most secrets with you, an almost stranger?
You thought it was attraction, but maybe you fucking hate this guy.
There are so many reasons why this isn’t happening, but you choose the three simplest.
“You’re not going to fuck me because I don’t want you to. AND, by all accounts you have a long-suffering girlfriend, and I’m seeing someone anyways.”
You shrug your bare shoulders, take a good glug of your drink and lean against the back of the bench as you let your eyes flick up and down that beautiful, now frowning face. A prominent line between his brows, matching searching eyes.
“You exclusive?”
“No… but…”
The line disappears, he’s easy again.
“Then I could fuck you if I wanted to.”
It’s your turn to frown, hard, at him, “You know what, fuck you.”
“One day… one day I’ll fuck you so good you’ll never be the same again. I’d ruin you pretty girl, ruin you so you never want to fuck anyone else ever again.”
He’s smiling at you, but there’s darkness behind it and no levity in his eyes at all; he really means it.
You lean into him, placing your now empty glass directly in front of him and breath heavy into his ear, “In your dreams cowboy.”
He turns his face to catch yours, but you’ve already pulled away. There’s nothing quite like the dominance you feel now, tingling and exhilarating. You can still feel his eyes on you as you slink away, don’t need to turn to know his gaze is still boring into you.
You turn anyway; it’s just too tempting, you want a memory of what that level of lust looks like. Feels good. And you know he’s getting a taste of his own medicine, you’re the mirror image of him, sex screaming out of you and practically slapping him in the face.
He drabs his thumb against his parted lips, lights a cigarette, and you disappear into the night, ‘fucking asshole’ you mutter to yourself.
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Something was set in motion that night, from being on the periphery of your vision, Javier Peña is now a constant. You search out his name in conversation, hope to see him on campus, fuck him with your eyes when you do run into each other.
Collectively, people are not happy about this. Whatever… this is. Javier’s girlfriend is furious whenever your name is mentioned, you run in similar circles and a poison is spreading about your motivations; how you’re trying to lure him away, that you’re the brazen harlot set on sin. When anyone who has ever met him knows it is impossible to make Javier Peña do a single thing he doesn’t want to?
You’d laugh at how ridiculous it is, how fucking typical that it’s always the woman’s fault, but it stings and it follows you round like an accusation painted on your back. All of your close friends, except Grace who would back you up under any circumstances whether you were guilty or not, try and steer you away, try to protect you from the nastiness that seems to permeate around your obvious growing obsession with each other. You shake off the boy you’re seeing without a second glance, his name lost from your memory almost instantly.
You’re choosing to be blind to it. Impressively, wilfully, blind. The odd stab of remorse at how you keep dear Billy hanging around just to feel loved, have someone adore you, when what you really want is exasperatingly out of reach. Sorry Billy.
You find your grasp on reason is treacherously loose when it comes to Javier Peña.
A crowd of mutual friends have gathered out on the grass in front of the library and you and Javier have inevitably drifted close together. You sit in front of him, cross-legged, your limbs twisted slightly unnaturally as you curl into yourself so there’s no way you’re touching him and cautiously watch him smoke like a demon. It’s never looked sexier to be honest. Your course books are spread out in front of you, like you might actually pick up one and read something. As if your thoughts aren’t gallingly full of him.
You have to remind yourself you hate this infuriating man.
“Just say normal shit please Javi, not everything has to be a mind fuck.”
“What? All I said is that you’d look sexy knocked up. It’s a compliment?”
You want to throw one of these books at his head.
“Do they teach you this in your psychology course? Am I some kind of experiment?”
“No thanks, wouldn’t want to start messing around in there.” He plants a thick digit in the centre of your forehead, “Imagine what kind of depraved shit I’d dig up. And all about me? Horrifying.” His voice is deadpan, but his expression is pure menace.
“Jesus Christ Javi.” You attempt to disarm him right back, “How’s your girlfriend?”
His hand drops down away from you, but remains nonplussed, “Jus’ fine.” He huffs out. He’s lying on his tummy on the grass, notepad and textbook laid out in front of him, running a hand down his clean-shaven face and scratching at his chin.
“You’d look good with a moustache Javi.” You crawl on your hands and knees right up as close as you dare, an inch away from what feels like a disaster, “You’d look sexy.”
“Great… I’ll grow a moustache and knock you up, then we’ll both be unstoppable.”
You laugh, what else is there to do?
You can feel the heat of people watching you, gossip already spreading, eyebrows raised.
Fuck it.
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You’re stood at the top of the stairs of your student house, watching through the banisters at the long stream of friends piling in thorough the front door, clutching beers and bottles of liquor in brown bags. You spot Javier walking in with Danny and Lucy, holding a half full bottle of whiskey in his right hand and with a cigarette hanging lazily from his mouth as always. The beginnings of a moustache visible above his top lip.
“Who invited Javier Peña, you know I fucking hate him?”
Grace punches you in the shoulder, laughing at you, “I don’t know who you think you’re kidding, you’re obsessed with him?”
“Urgh, no thanks. He’s so arrogant, it’s obnoxious.”
“So, you won’t care that I heard he broke up with that girlfriend of his? Lucy said the poor girl finally had enough of him.” Grace rolls her eyes knowingly.
“Nope.” Excitement spirals up your spine, bringing a smile to your already parted lips, “Don’t give a shit.”
“You’re the worst liar I’ve ever met babe.”
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It’s the middle of your party, but you’ve found yourself sat out on the street with Javier, bottoms perched on the edge of the sidewalk, the house thunderous behind you. It’s vibrating with music, long-haired friends everywhere, dotted on the front steps and leaning out of windows smoking.
“Fleetwood Mac!” You coo, “Ohhh my favourite.” You sing along for a few bars, “If I could Baby, I'd give you my world… How can I… When you won't take it from me?”
“Huh, you’ve got a great voice?”
“Yes, I do.” You give him your best pout and flutter of your lashes; something happens to you when Javier praises you. You imbibe some of that innate conviction he exudes, let it pour out of you and right back at him, “Don’t sound so surprised.”
There’s a beat.
You know you’re going to kiss him, there’s a static between you that fizzes so hard it’s almost burning you, singes at the blood coursing through your system and pulls you closer to him. It’s almost fun, seeing how you can stretch it out, resist this magnetic pull that’s grasping to bind you together.
Neither of you move, but he licks those pouty lips, stubs his ever-present cigarette out under his heel.
“You gonna quit playing with me, give me what I want?”
You tip your head, scrunch up your nose, “And what is it that you want Javi?”
“You. I want all of you. Now.”
Your head is thrown back in laughter when he launches himself at you; it’s clumsy and messy, too much teeth and want all at once. The kiss you would probably have had at 15 but the long, drawn out build-up has put too much pressure on this moment. It’s not a good kiss.
He pulls back, let’s out of a pant of frustration, “Shit, I’ve fucked it up already.”
“No Javi, you just…” You shake your head, brush your hand against his face, let a finger drag down his sideburn, rub the tip your nose against his handsome profile, “…need to slow down. I’m not going anywhere.”
You take control, slip off the sidewalk and coil yourself into his lap. One hand warm against the side of his face, other arm around his shoulder and neck, holding him back. You look into those devilish dark eyes and see hesitation where ungodly confidence normally resides. You push some of your hair behind your ear, prolonging his agony, letting your tongue trace along those plush lips but still hold him back, holding him firm so he can’t eat into you the way he wants. You feel him getting hard beneath you, a hot pulse in your cunt mirroring his want, declaring your own.
You whisper into his ear, “You finally going to make good on your promise Javi? You going to fuck me so good I can’t see straight? Use me just the way you’ve been fantasising all these years?”
“Fuck yes.”
You kiss him then. Still steady with what you want, forcing him to lick into you at your pace, gentle and needy, a twist of yearning that can build rather than explode. Little nips and playful nibbles, you can taste the cigarettes on him, practically breathing in the hunger that’s whipping around both your heartbeats.
Now this, this is a good kiss. Might just screw you up forever.
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Javier Peña has you on your bed, pressed up against the wall on your knees, hot kisses against your skin as he tugs off each piece of your clothing until you’re in nothing but your black lace panties. Not letting one inch of your exposed skin go untouched by his hands or those divine lips. He shakes his shirt off and pulls your nipple into his mouth, tender but firm with his teeth as you card your fingers through his hair, when something catches his attention.
You have a cork-board covered with pictures, band flyers, articles you’ve snipped from the paper. And tucked away on there, a photo of Billy and Javier sat in the bar where you first properly met. Javier has one eyebrow raised questioningly as Billy tries his best smoulder. You’d forgotten you had it pinned.
He falls back from your softening body and smiles a wicked smile at you, tilts his head and looks at you with those big brown eyes.
“That a picture of me cariño?” He rubs a thumb over your pebbled nipple before giving your ass a playful slap, followed by a rough squeeze.
You let a little pant out, “Maybe?”
He slips away, saunters over, takes out the pin and yanks the picture off the cork-board. He folds it over, so that Billy is no longer visible and stands it up on your bedside table.
“Much better. Now you can look at me, just me, when you touch yourself.”
“Like this Javi?”
You lean back against the wall, spread your knees so you can reach into your panties, feel your back arch as you dip your fingers into yourself and then drag them against your clit.
You gasp as in one smooth movement Javier pounces and rips the lace at your hips so you’re fully exposed, shoving the tattered remains of your panties in his back pocket.
“Better. Show me everything…” You stretch your knees wider, tilt your pelvis so he can watch as you spread your pussy and perform for him; you bite your lip and let your other hand reach up to your breast, caressing yourself and letting a little breathless ‘Javi, baby’ escape.
He likes that, preens at the nickname, gets up real close.
“Say that again.”
“Javi, baby, I want you.”
“Just like that, look how soaked you are… prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen cariño.”
He licks his own lips, runs his thumb over the wetness and appreciates the soft, almost musical noises you’re making as you run your fingers through yourself, so wet now, eyes lockedinto his. You’ve never felt sexier, or more powerful, the heat from his gaze warming your already burning cheeks. You feel dangerously close already and he hasn’t even touched you. Watching him lazily rub at the clearly visible hard length in his always too tight jeans is making you feel almost delirious. Straining against the material, but in no rush. Enjoying the show.
“Keep your eyes on me. Just like that cariño, making me so hard, fuck.”
You let out a little moan of frustration, “Javi baby, I’m gonna come, I wanna feel you.”
He’s between your legs in an instant, licks at your fingers as they dip in and out rhythmically, his hands pressed hard against your thighs. You’d like it to bruise, a sign he’s finally been here, finally tasted what you’ve been toying with for so long. You let your fingers be sucked into his mouth, he bites them softly but removes every last drop of your slick from them before he buries his face in your cunt, lapping at your already throbbing clit. It just takes one of his thick fingers pressing into you and you feel yourself begin to clench around him, the warmth of your orgasm dancing through you and roaring into your cheeks. You close your eyes involuntarily and enjoy the blissful sensation you’ve been dreaming of for all this time wash over you. Your first Javier Peña orgasm that he’s actually been here for…
You feel so sensitive you try to pull back against the wall but Javi clasps at your thighs, won’t let you move. He looks up at you, brown eyes blown to blackness with desire, lips wet with you.
“We’re just getting started cariño, I’m going to need at least one more before you’re even close to ready for my cock.”
You let out a breathless, “Shit Javi, that was intense.”
“Looks like you’ve been practicing for me.”
He doesn’t give you chance to respond, he takes both your hands and slides you down onto the bed, so you’re lying on your back, he’s not gentle but the force feels right, like he could do just about anything with you and you’d let him.
His head is between your thighs again, kissing up the soft flesh on each slide, trailing his fingers with a featherlight touch down your hips and making a shiver of excitement run down your back, you feel like you’re practically vibrating with longing as he reaches your cunt.
“I’m not kidding, really is the fucking prettiest pussy I’ve ever seen, she’s so wet for me cariño. And tastes like heaven.”
You clearly don’t need it, but he spits at your seam and immediately runs his tongue through you, swirling the mix of you together and you buck your hips at the warmth, at the heavenly sensation that is driving you wild. He lets his tongue pulse on your clit and watches your reactions through bright, mischievous eyes as you grip onto his strong forearms and decide that it’s all been worth it. If this is what it’s like to have a man hate you because he desires you so much, bring it fucking on.
He locks into you, letting his tongue trace around your entrance before returning to your clit and continuing those electric pulses, edging you closer to oblivion which each touch.
He stops and you begin to whine at the lack of contact, but he’s kissing you again, he tastes like sex and want, a visceral experience of the unspoken tension that’s been dripping between you and is now twisting on your tongues and pounding in your veins. He offers you two of his thick fingers and you suck at them, wrapping your tongue around them and tipping your head back, letting him push them further into your throat. The way he’s looking at you, it’s like nothing you’ve ever experienced, pure lust that’s seeping out of every pore, a heat that is making you almost dizzy.
You need to have some part of him in you or you think you might die.
It feels a bit more frantic now, he slips one, then two fingers into your heat quickly, curling them round as you buck your hips and he laps at your cunt again, an intensity that’s building which can’t be stopped. Where you had been focused on this being Javier Peña with his mouth on you, you now find every thought you’ve ever had has fallen out of your heat; you can only feel the sensations that are tightening inside you and making your legs begin to shake. Javi’s found a spot you’ve never reached before, it almost feels too much, making you wiggle underneath his touch and a long stream of obscenities escapes as you tip loser to bliss.
“Javi, fuck it feels too much, I can’t…” You almost, almost, want to pull away but he grips you tightly around your upper thighs with one hand and continues his rhythmic pulsing with his fingers while nipping, licking, kissing at your clit. Fuck it feels insane, almost like… oh fuck.
You swear, for a second everything goes completely white as your orgasm rocks through you, with a release so hard you feel like you’ve covered Javi and your aware he’s drinking you in, working his tongue against you as you continue to shake, almost like he’s guiding you through it.
“Jesus fucking Christ Javi, baby, what did you do to me?” You’re laughing, it feels so good, you can still feel it resonating through you, you have to flex your fingers to try and regain some sensation of normality. Javi props himself up in his elbows so he’s caging you in, grinding his still jeaned cock against you, his face glistening with your slick and a look that the devil himself would be proud of.
“That the first time you’ve done that?”
“Done what baby?”
“Oh cariño, I just made you squirt and it was fucking beautiful. I wanna make you do it again…” He kisses you, tanging your lips and your tongue in a way that feels so intimate, that you’re so connected you might just melt into him, “but first I need to feel that pretty pussy around my cock, fucking waited long enough.”
“Please Javi, baby, please, I need it.”
You watch as he slips out of his jeans, condom packet already in his hands. On his knees in front of you, perfect cock so hard, bobbing against his tummy, it’s making you salivate. Finest dick you’ve ever seen. You want it in your mouth, but he pushes you back down, forceful again, grabs you by the hips and yanks you forward, positions himself in front of you; you’re so wet he just glides in, a hiss leaving his lips as you tighten around him.
Everything feels hot and sweaty, you taste the salt on his skin, bite into his neck as he hits a punishing pace, gritting his teeth as he already teeters on the edge. You want to be lost like this forever, just the two of you entwined, intuitively moving together and fuck, it feels good.
“Shit cariño, feels amazing, taking me so well, like you were made for me.” He moves swiftly, hooks your legs over his shoulder, so he can reach even deeper, you feel like you can practically see stars every time he pulls almost right out and then bottoms out, the coarse hair of his base rubbing against your skin so deliciously. “You think I can make you come again?”
You nod furiously, as he presses your knee into your chest so he can begin circling your clit, his own rhythm becoming more jagged as he tries to slow the impending orgasm and coax one more out of you. You lift yourself up so you’re leaning with your arms outstretched behind you, meaning you can push up against him and let Javier kiss at your breasts and rub that fine nose against your jawline.  
You feel like you’re almost in a trance, your body belongs to him now; the warmth rising from your belly spreading up your spine and flooding your senses; “Javi, baby, I’m coming, I’m coming, I’m coming.”
It gives him the permission he needs to let go, spilling into you with a “fuck!” and you can feel him pulsing in you, crashing back to your lips and kissing you messily, both of you so soft and open you feel like you finally understand a twin flame; precarious, volatile but burning together with an insatiable need.
He doesn’t give you longer than a moment.
“Now we’ve got that out of our system, I see that as like, a one-time thing, yeah? Really fucking hot cariño … but,” He shrugs, doesn’t meet your eyes, “it’s all a bit complicated, isn’t it?”
“Is it?”
You wait for him to explain but he doesn’t continue, is already lighting a cigarette and pulling on his jeans. You watch as he torturously pulls them up with one hand, no boxers, his tummy taunt, with the finest hair dappling the skin before thicker curls, shoving himself inelegantly into place. It’s only been a few minutes and yet you find you’re already hungry for him again, would give anything to reach out and yank those jeans right off, have his delicious cock in your hands.
You don’t. You sit wrapped in the sheet like in the movies, as if you haven’t just revealed every inch of your naked, desperate body to him. Haven’t just come so hard it’s still swirling in you, making everything feel soft and like he should be here, tucked up right next to you, soaking in it, revelling in it, pressed against your breasts and breathing in the afterglow magic.
He’s not. He’s halfway out of your bedroom already and still avoiding your piercing look. Fine. You channel a nonchalance you absolutely do not feel and give Javier your sexiest, poutiest gaze.
“Well, that was fun. Call me if you want a rematch.”
He doesn’t say anything, slips out of the door and into the still bubbling party below. You flop back on the bed, a mess of doubt and aching thighs, a dull throb where Javier has just been. A used condom on the floor. Romance has officially come to die in your bedroom. Fuck.
Somehow in the tangle of limbs this evening you’ve gotten the tiniest of cigarette burns on your inner forearm, just after the crease of your elbow. It doesn’t hurt, but the more you look at the singed skin, the more it looks like a heart. It clutches at something in you, something you know you’re not supposed to be feeling. This fucking man, getting under your skin, marking you in ways you least expect.
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The one-time thing would be hell of a lot easier if you didn’t keep running into each other.
Having gone months occasionally seeing him around, now it feels like whenever you leave your house, he’s right there.
Javier Peña is everywhere you fucking go; you can’t walk round the library, pop into the store or even cross the campus without running into him. You’re not sure if you’re accidentally stalking him, or he’s infuriatingly found a way to be one step ahead of you at all times. Remaining in your eye-line but permanently out of reach.
You’re practically half asleep riding the bus into town when his obnoxiously handsome face, new moustache looking just as sexy as you’d promised, pushes next to you. He’s all golden skin and that enraging single dimple when he meets your surprised eyes and gifts you the briefest of smiles. There are no seats, so you’re forced to stand almost, almost, pressed together.
“What are you doing on the bus?” You can’t help it, you sound accusatory, frustrated with him already before he’s even spoken to you.
“Hey to you as well.” Another all too short smile, before he’s back to his smouldering best, “Car’s at the shop. Gotta travel with the civilians for a few days.”
Javier Peña is fucking terrible at small talk, as you sway standing together very purposefully not touching and holding tightly onto the swinging handles from the bus roof, he just dives right in.
“So, do you regret it?”
“Regret…. Javi… What? You mean?” He grins at you, the asshole. “No, I don’t regret it. I’ve never… it’s never, I’ve not felt a connection like that before.”
“But you’ve gone on dates with Billy.”
You feel a heat rise from your neck and warm your face, it is impossible to keep anything quiet around here. Bigger then home at least, but still a network of gossip that seems to delight in your misery. Why shouldn’t you spend some time with a boy that clearly adores you, when the alternative is moping around after someone that seems to hate you and desire you in equal measure?
Whatever the fuck is going on in Javier Peña’s head, whether he really doesn’t care or has somehow worked out your entire schedule so he can randomly pop up when you least expect it, he’s definitely not picked up the phone and called you.
As much as you are loathe to admit it, to inflate that ego, you venture some truth, “Just a couple of dates… but Javi… He’s not you.”
“Didn’t I warn you cariño? Told you I’d ruin you. Make it so you’d never want to be touched by anyone else.”
Christ, he’saggravating, you roll your eyes at him, “Then why are you resisting this? Why are you holding back from me?”
The bus stalls and you fly into him, the teenagers behind you fall into hopeless giggles. You realise now they’ve been hanging on every word you’ve been saying to each other, drinking up the free soap opera in front of them and almost willing you to touch each other. His hands steady you and your heart is thumping so loudly you reach your hand to it as if you can quiet the thrumming. He pulls back from you, hands dropping to his sides quickly as if you’ve burnt him.
You want to stamp your feet, “You want me Javi, just admit it.”
He just shakes his head, gives you a blast of his softest look, the one that makes him look like a lost little boy and makes you want to slap it right off his face and kiss him all at once. You grip onto the plastic handle, slippery under your increasingly sweaty palm.
“This is my stop.”
As people file off the bus, you slump down in the now empty seat next to you. One of the teenagers leans forward to you, loudly popping her bubble gum.
“Bad luck girl, that man is fine as hell.”
“Don’t I know it.”
You both sigh together, eyes following those snake hips as he walks down the sidewalk, briefly glancing at the two of you now staring at him through the window. Strangers united in an appreciation of the way his jeans always fit just right.
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To your eternal surprise, he does call you. Late one evening, when you’re frantically writing an essay that’s due the next day and trying to stay awake with some rather disgusting instant coffee. The phone rings shrilly from down in the hallway and when none of your housemates answer, you begrudgingly make your way down the stairs.
Grace has got there first, she is grinning madly at you. Whispers, ‘It’s Javier Peña for YOU!”
“Hello?”
“Look. I’m sorry about on the bus the other day, I didn’t… uh… mean to be rude.”
You just kind of hum in response, nervously twirling the phone cord round your fingers as Grace dances around the hall manically, smiling wildly at you.
“Did you want to come over, to mine? Maybe Friday night? Thought maybe we should talk.”
“I’m supposed to be...” Grace kicks you real hard in the shin, “No, yes, Friday. Let’s do it.”
He gives you his address, which you scribble down on the notepad sitting on the wicker table that holds the phone. Drawing little stars around it as you say goodnight.
“Finallllllllly,” Grace drawls at you, she’s not a hugger but she does wrap her bare arms around your shoulders, giving you a little squeeze. “Javier Peña’s an idiot. He’s clearly in love with you.”
“I honestly don’t know what he is with me any more Gracie, he is a fucking mystery.”
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Javier Peña has the smoothest, most beautiful fake fur throw over his bed. It is completely incongruous to everything else about his hyper-masculine bedroom, his closed-off personality, his just about everything. You run your hands over it, delighting in the softness, an insight that maybe he is a man that is searching for comfort.
You look at him quizzically, fingers still deep into the warmth of it.
“My Mom got it for me before I left home. She used to have one I’d wrap myself up in, in the den. So, she thought it would… uh, remind me of home.”
“Did you just tell me something personal about yourself Javi?”
He barks a laugh, “Yeah, maybe, don’t get used to it.” He passes you a bottle of beer, sits on his desk chair as you lower yourself onto the bed and let yourself sink into the fur. “I normally put it away before I have friends over, but seeing as we’re just talking, figured it would be fine.”
“Oh, we’re not friends Javi.” You lean forward, cheers your beer with him before you lay back down again, it really does feel quite heavenly.
He looks slightly taken aback.
“We’re not friends?”
“I’ve got enough friends. We’re something else, I haven’t worked that out yet… but none of my friends have ever made me do what you did to me.”
You feel heat drip into your skin but choose to ignore it.
“I can’t stop thinking about it cariño… prettiest thing I’ve ever seen, you coming all over my face. Fuck.” Those soft eyes are back, thumb rubbing against his plush lips, you can see his mouth is practically watering at the memory.
You lean up on your elbows, peer up at him as demurely as possible, “And that’s why we can’t be friends.”
“What about you and Billy?”
“What about us?”
“Are you sleeping with him?”
“None of your business. I’m not asking for a list of who you’re banging am I? I’d probably be here all night.”
He has the grace to look a little hurt, but there’s also confusion there. He’s unused to not being the one with the power, something about you disconcerts him and you like it. He can’t control your mouth and you think part of him wants to shut you up with his abrupt questions, but maybe, just a little, it’s a thrill that you challenge him.
You talk into the night. Annoyingly, you find the conversation between you flows deliciously, a push and pull of provocative flirting and gentle mocking. When he stops constantly trying to shock or unnerve you, there’s so much you share; from growing up in the same small town, to the many friends you have in common and even, underneath his taciturn exterior, there is a mutual sense of humour. Teasing, almost silly, definitely irreverent. You’ve never met a man that loves to swear as much as you do.
You find the coil inside you that is often so tightly wound around him, expecting a jab or something to unseat you, has loosened as you relax into each other. You’d never expected to feel comfortable around him, but it’s something akin to an understanding. You also discover your birthdays are five days apart.
“Oh shit,” You mutter, “I think we might actually be too similar.” That gets a wicked laugh from him, as if he’s known all along that you and he would share something other worldly in your connection. Greater forces at work perhaps. 
“It’s late, why don’t you sleep over. No… uh… funny business.”
“Sure.”
You know there isn’t a hope in hell he’s going to being able to stick to that. You’re going to enjoy seeing how quickly you can break him. You slip your bra off, wriggle out of your gypsy skirt so you’re only in your panties and your favourite Fleetwood Mac t-shirt. It just about covers your underwear, you look at him with a forced innocence that you couldn’t be further from. 
“Can I borrow a toothbrush… baby?”
It’s difficult not to smirk, not when he’s looking at you like that. Like a switch has been flicked; his eyes are hungry, almost ravenous looking, so dark and fuck, like he’s going to consume you whole. Your breath hitches, Javier reaches his hand out to the cotton of your t-shirt and where the peak of your nipples are visible through the thin material. He runs a thick thumb over one, before giving you the lightest of pinches; you feel your nipple harden under his touch and you shakily draw a breath in. He audibly groans, lets his thumb run over it in tight circles for only a moment, before he pulls away. A hard swallow follows.
He seems to just about collect himself.
“Bathroom’s down the hall, mine’s the red toothbrush…” His eyes flick up and down you, as you make to go out the door, “Jesus Christ, cariño put something over you.”
You pull the fake fur around yourself in one easy movement and trot off outside to the hallway, very pleased with yourself.
When Javier nips to the bathroom, you lay the fur back on the bed and curl yourself up under the covers, breathing in the intoxicating smell of Javier Peña that emanates from the sheets. You hate what a visceral affect it has on you, straight to your cunt, like a hit of a drug right into your veins. You artfully position yourself so he can just slot himself behind you, if he so wishes.
He does fucking wish. Slinks into the bed in his usual cat-like fashion, arm instantly wrapped around your waist, legs drawn up behind you so that his breath is hot against your neck, cock already pleasingly hard against your back. Just as it should be. The minty smell of toothpaste so different from his usual masculine, tobacco infused scent.
He whispers into your hair, “Gonna piss a lot of people off if we’re seen together.”
This is too easy.
“Well people don’t have to know, do they?”
You stay like this, quiet, strangely peaceful for once. The usual senseless amount of tension has stilled, and you just enjoy being in each other’s arms, breathing the same air. Neither of you running your mouths for once. A steady thrum of your heartbeats reassuring you both the longing is mutual.
Javier ruins it of course, but in the best possible way.
“Any idea what you’re doing to me? I can feel how hot your pussy is for me cariño, drivin’ me insane. This all for me?”
“All for you Javi, baby, always all for you.”
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There’s a thrill in trying to keep it under wraps. Which you are both absolutely, ridiculously terrible at.
The problem is, if you’re within five meters of each other, you need to be touching. And you don’t mean holding hands; Javi finds way to slip his fingers under your skirt, brush his hard cock against you in his always slightly too tight jeans. You fuck in the library, you fuck in the park, he clasps his hand over your mouth as he dips his finger into your cunt in the kitchen while your friends are drinking in the other room.
It’s like a madness has overtaken you both. Walking back from a bar one evening, you drop back from your friends and Javier literally throws you over his shoulder, squeezing your ass and whispers filth to you so that you’re practically whining into his perfect broad back, you’re so desperate for him to touch you. He pulls you down, so your legs are wrapped around that slutty waist, his hands clutching at the curve of you, your arms around his neck playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
“Cariño, the things I’m going to do to you when I get you alone. I want you screaming my name, coming on my cock so hard, I’m gonna get you believing in the existence of a god.”
It is divine.  
It is not subtle.
You’re not winning any popularity contests.
Teetering on the horizon is that these are Javier’s final months here. After the spring’s exams he’s going back to home, has a job lined up back with the County Sheriff. You’ve got another year of college left and you keep waiting for the two of you to discuss what’s going to happen then. But you never do.
You never discuss anything; you slink about in the shadows and fuck each other until you can’t think straight, but you don’t go out for dinner dates and the movies, plotting adventures or the future. Even getting him to agree to coming round to your student house and hang out with your friends for the evening verges on the impossible, he resists anything he deems as too ‘couple-y’.
He has never, not once, slipped his hand in yours.
You maintain the pretence that this is fine, you’re fine with this. If it’s the only way you get what you want; Javier Peña in you, on you, devouring you, then you’ll play along as long as you need to. You know, deep down, that you want more. That maybe, you deserve more.
The summer comes around far too quickly and suddenly Javier’s back home while you stay at your student house, working at the local paper over the break.
Javier Peña all but disappears from your world. You receive very occasional phone calls on his terms, his Mom answers the phone to you more often than he does; Javier’s always working, always out, never where you desperately want and need him to be. You feel your grip on him loosening, your hold on your sanity crumbling at the same rate.
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Things are spiralling. You drink far too much on your night’s out, cry on the stairs at house parties, spend hours waiting by the phone for calls that are never, ever, going to come. Your course work is suffering as you waste hours torturing yourself about what Javier is doing at home without you. Who he’s doing.
It eats away at you. You know you’re on the cusp of some kind of madness. There’s an exquisite pain in this level of self-destruction and you’re letting it consumer you whole. 
After a particularly disastrous night out where you got blackout drunk, again, spinning round the dance floor channelling your inner Stevie Nicks in a mess of sequins and eventually, vomit, Gracie crawls into your bed in the morning.
She hands you a glass of water, two aspirin, “You love him, don’t you babe?”
You swallow down the bile that threatens to become sick again. Everything hurts. You vaguely recall trying to kiss someone off the football team as a futile form of revenge, but for some reason the intoxicated disarray that was slurring pathetically didn’t turn him on. Oh shit, you feel shame rising up and you can’t hide from it.
“Is it that obvious?” You groan.
“I think you’re like, the best thing ever, you know that right? But babe, you’re going insane. And it’s so horrible to watch.” She strokes your hair, “I know you think Javier Peña’s the one… but…”
This is the closest Gracie has ever come to criticising Javier, she has always prioritised supporting you when everyone else has been so negative, so judgemental. It means the world to you.
“I think you need to weigh it up. How happy you are when you’re together, it is worth how low you feel when you’re apart, when he refuses to commit to you, to even call you his girlfriend? I think he loves you, but he’s no good for you.”
“I love you Gracie. Thank you.” You force a hug on her, she resists but you won’t let her go. She’s bony and not warm, but her reluctant arms around you are the most comfort you’ve had in a long time.  
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You’re back at home with your parents in Kingsville just for the weekend and you’ve had a stupid row with Javier, you don’t even really know what it was about, but you’d provoked each other to fury and instead of your usual angry make-up sex, he’d stormed off in a sulk.
You hate, hate, hate how pathetic you feel as you cry on your own in your childhood bedroom, an emptiness that claws at you as you long to feel his weight on you, feel like you would do almost anything to have his breath mingling with yours, to be able to smell the sweat on his skin.
How has it come to this, where there was once so much excitement and a rush of pleasure, now you only feel a kind of despair. Even when you’re with Javier it doesn’t bring you any joy; you’re always waiting, waiting, waiting for disaster to strike. Sometimes you feel like you incite it, just so you’re no longer hanging on a knife edge. It makes you uneasy. All. The. Fucking. Time. You’re in a constant state of flux that no one seems to be able to calm.
You’d both arranged to meet Lucy and Danny at one of the local bars, so you drag a brush through your hair half-heatedly, scowl into the mirror and begin to make your way there.
Your dad is in the kitchen as you walk through, somewhat nervously eyeing you and your still puffy face. He reaches out an arm to stop you dashing past, pulls you into hug, but you feel stiff and unlovable, unable to accept the kindness. He kisses the top of your head, tries to still you.
“Why don’t you stay in tonight kid, your Ma could cook up something special for you? You’re looking awful thin.”
“I said I’d meet Javi, Pa, I can’t just not turn up.”
You give him the tiniest of smiles, but he sighs heavily, and you avoid looking at his concerned face; you know he’s never been a fan of Javier. Too confident, too pleased with himself, too in control of his daughter’s happiness.
He gives you another squeeze and a rub of your arm before you head to the door. He calls after you.
“I wouldn’t want to be your age again. Not for all the tea in China.”
“What do you mean?” You hang back, your Dad doesn’t normally speak like this to you. You see the worry etched into his weathered face, a gentle force throughout your life.
“I remember what it was like, you feel everything so deeply. People always romanticise what it’s like to be young, but they forget how much it hurts.” He pauses. “It will get better my darlin’, I promise.”
A few stray tears escape your eyes and you press them back with the palms of your hands, try and give him what feels like a hopeful smile. One neither of you are convinced by.
You finally arrive at the bar, Lucy and Danny look surprised to see you but make room for you at the table. Something feels off. But then again, something always feels off these days.
“Where is he?”
They give each other a shifty look. Their easy, casual intimacy with each other makes you feel sick.
“I think he’s playing pool in the basement.” Lucy offers, after a considerable hesitation.
Dread is dripping down your spine as you descend the dark and dingy stairs.
Your stomach drops to your knees. She’s pretty, real pretty, in a petite, blonde, completely and utterly unthreatening way. Like a little shiny button, with perfect tits. She’s laughing, delightfully, cheerfully, as Javier is draped over her and aligning the pool cue for her.
Suddenly, everything has flipped on its head; you’re cast in the position of the long-suffering girlfriend, watching Javier Peña fawn over his latest obsession. Only, you’ve never even got to hold that particularly accolade. Apparently, you’re just a fuck-buddy, now thrown aside for his newest toy.
You know immediately that he’s fucking her.
What you didn’t know is that you can actually feel heartbreak, that it’s a physical pain. You can’t breathe, your chest is tight in a way that it hurts to exhale. It’s no exaggeration to say you stagger blindly back up the stairs, you can barely see a foot in front of you and your lungs heave with the exhaustion of crushing down the tears which are promising to expose you.
Javier is somehow right up behind you, isn’t he always able to do that? In-fucking-furiating.
He looks cross with you, like you’ve made a scene. “You need to calm down cariño. You and I? We’re not exclusive, you know?”
“Fuck you Javi,” You spit it out, “Fuck. You.”
Something has cracked in you; you can see everything clearly for a split second. This is not a thrilling affair; you are not star-crossed lovers. This is simply a man who won’t hold your hand in public, won’t even really walk next to you, but will happily paw at you under a table, fuck you in the darkness, hide you away like a dirty secret.
If he does love you, he certainly doesn’t respect you. 
“You know what? I get it now; I get why everyone always told me to stay away from you. You’re a fucking asshole. Whatever this was Javi, baby, it’s over.”
You jab your hand into his chest, you feel the wildness you’ve been suppressing tearing her way out; “I refuse to be your crazy lover who spends her night’s wondering if you’re fucking someone else. She’s welcome to you – I don’t hate myself enough to keep doing this. Have a nice life.”
Javier has that enraging hurt look in his dark eyes, the softness that makes you want to scratch it right off. He tries to put his arms on your shoulders, an attempt to calm you, but you feel brittle, shove him hard in the chest so he tips backwards. You give him a few slaps against his arms,pitiful really, but your dignity has well as truly left the building so you might as well lean into this tantrum.
There’s no going back; you’re not trying to be alluring any longer, you’re not going to make yourself small for him ever again. You didn’t win. You storm into the night.
Some bastard creep is following you home. For fuck’s sake, being a woman is exhausting. You can see this stranger lurking in the shadows and while part of you (only a tiny, tiny, tiny, part) thinks it would serve Javier Peña right if you were murdered, you might actually need to do something about it.
You know there’s a bar right round the corner that is more of an ‘old man’ type of place, you hope perhaps one of your Dad’s friends is there and will walk you home, or maybe you could borrow some change and call your Dad to come get you. You push open the door to the bar, still feeling the strangers eyes on you from behind and scan the room for a familiar face but you can’t pick anyone out. Everything is a bit blurry. The tears that you fought so hard to control are running freely down your face now, unstoppable, you don’t even try to wipe them away. A face comes partially into view, a young man, holding a guitar.
“Hey, hey, are you ok?”
“Some creep is following me and I was…” You gulp down some air, try and steady yourself, “I was hoping to see someone I know who could walk me home?” A full sob escapes and you hastily turn away, if you snot on this handsome stranger you will die. “I don’t fancy getting murdered and broken-up with on the same night.”
He walks you home this kind man, guitar slung over his broad shoulders and gently talking to you about your favourite music all the way home. At some point you stop crying. You find a peace talking to him that you haven’t known for years. Since... well, you know exactly since when. He leaves you on your front porch, gives you a shy smile before he heads back into the night.
He calls out to you; “I’m Sam by the way!”
“Thank you for rescuing me, Sam.”
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Javier POV
You’d bewitched him, that’s the only way he can explain it. He’ll never forget the look on your face when you’d first met.
You’d cast a spell that entwined you together, no matter how hard he’d resisted. And that first night together, the alchemy of your bodies, the intoxicating taste of your pussy, he was lost eternally. It was like he was infected, desperate and needy for another taste. He can’t be close to you without wanting to be physically inside you, can’t stop his fingers reaching into your warmth, pushing his hardness against you for even a moment of relief. He’s addicted to your cunt in a way that’s driving him to insanity.
There’s a sharpness to you; you won’t cut him any slack and it drives him to distraction. Makes him want to fuck it right out of you, but when you do slowly become more compliant, slowly lose some of the fight in you, he finds it crushes him; then it makes him cruel. The number of times he’s wished you’d slapped him, scratched his face to ribbons with the fire he can see in your eyes.
He knows he’s breaking you and he can’t stop himself.
He doesn’t want to be locked into you. Javier Peña can’t have his future tied up in someone else, have his happiness reliant on you. He simply will not allow it. Everything that he knows you’re silently offering; security, a kind of peace, he knows he doesn’t deserve it. He is not a good man. He secretly also understands, with you he’s met his match. That if he gave in, he’d be yours forever. Once his fingers are linked with yours, he’ll never be able to pull away.
So, he pushes and pushes and pushes until you break.
The way he feels about you, he hadn’t considered that you could feel any other way. He believes you also have him coursing through your blood in a way that makes you unable to even look anyone else. Yeah, sure, he’d been fucking other people, even toying with the idea of dating that Penny girl with the great tits, but he was sure you knew they weren’t really anything. Just dalliances, a man has needs, right?
When he’s ready, you can be together.
This arrogance is his undoing.
The rumour mill is in full flight, as it always is. Churning out gossip that filters back to him; you’re seeing someone, a musician, people have seen you around together. Once it starts, it’s like a flood. You’re singing with the musician, you’re sharing a kiss on stage, he’s asking you to be his girlfriend over a candlelit dinner. Javier’s blood runs cold.
He gets nervous, so nervous he even tries to ring you one evening. Something he has resisted since that night in the bar where you’d basically kicked him in the gut. He’d always had it in his head that you’d finish your degree, come back home and… well…. back to him.
That maybe he’d be ready for you then.
Gracie picks up the phone.
“Javier Peña, as I live and breathe.”
“Hey Gracie. Is she in?”
“Javier… honey. No. She’s out with her boyfriend.”
“Fuck.”
“Yeah Javi, fuck. You, you really did a number on my girl?”
“She your girl, ey?”
“Well, my friend, she’s definitely not your girl any longer.”
These nerves, they’re becoming a lot closer to panic. A new swirl of town tattle reaches his ears; you’re leaving with the musician. He’s got a tour and you’re going with him, without a second glance back at him or Kingsville.  
Javier can’t wrap his head around it, that this is genuinely happening. That there’s even a possibly that you really, truly, are not his any longer. He had a vision of the future and you’d always been in it, and now it’s slipping out of view.
He speaks to Danny.
“You met this musician guy?”
“Yeah, he seems like a good guy. She’s going to go on tour with him as soon as term finishes according to Lucy. Javier, if you’re gonna make a move you better do it soon?”
He’s running out of time and he knows you won’t see him, short of turning up on your doorstep he’s got to find another way.
Music had always been so important to you, little touchstones in your relationship together. Maybe, maybe he can find a way to speak to you that way. Flipping through his records he knows the moment he sees it; this is the one. He puts it on the record player, lights a cigarette and pulls a bit of paper out in front of him.
All the things he never allowed himself to say to you, all the things he refused to even acknowledge in himself, he lets them pour out on to the paper. A different man – one that he’s only ever let you catch a glimpse of, one that he knows you still need to believe exists to even give him the slightest chance.
Dusty Springfield’s ‘Son of a preacher man’ plays and he copies some of it down in his neat scrawl.
Cariño,
I have so much I want to say to you, but I thought Dusty might say it better. Maybe it’ll help you’ll understand how I feel about you.
The only one who could ever reach me
Was the son of a preacher man
The only boy who could ever teach me
Was the son of a preacher man
Yes, he was, he was, ooh, yes, he was
Being good isn't always easy
No matter how hard I try
When he started sweet-talkin' to me
He'd come and tell me "Everything is alright"
He'd kiss and tell me "Everything is alright"
I know I hurt you, but I want us to be together. When I think of you, I see all the things I want for us, together. I close my eyes and I see us swimming in the ocean together, decorating Christmas trees, sitting on the beach and watching the sunset, spending afternoons in bed together, fucking you forever, getting the hell out of Kingsville together, having a beer with your Pa, helping your Mom make Sunday lunch, fixing things for you, pulling your panties down and fucking you in our kitchen, buying you diamonds, watching your Pa make the wedding speech, laughing together.
Come back to me.
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Javier receives a parcel in the mail. The shape of a record. His heart is in his mouth as he rips off the brown paper and see’s the Fleetwood Mac single, ‘Go your own way’.
There’s no letter, just an orange sticky note attached to the front. It says simply; ‘I’ll always love you, but it’s too late baby”. You’ve drawn a heart. Water marks dotted on the cover he knows are tears.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
The lyrics pierce him. Tears prick at his eyes and he has to focus on breathing steadily, fingertips at his temples, to be able to think at all.
“Loving you Isn't the right thing to do
How can I ever change things That I feel?
If I could Baby, I'd give you my world
How can I When you won't take it from me?”
He begins to understand now what he has lost, what he had in the palm of his hand and has frittered away.
His love for you, it doesn’t entitle him to anything.
And your love for him? Doesn’t mean you belong together.
There are still choices to be made, lives to be led that aren’t centred around him. He’s unwittingly become a secondary character in someone else’s love story because he couldn’t just get his shit together and admit to himself what he wanted. That it was always you, you, you.
What he loves most about you, your strength and determination, the fire that lights you, has made you able to walk away and leave him for dust.
That day, he walks into the reception at the DEA office and enquires about jobs, any jobs, that will get him the fuck out of Kingsville, Texas.
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Tag List: @freelancearsonist @morallyinept @magpiepills @mothandpidgeon @sp00kymulderr @ghotifishreads @readingiskeepingmegoing @covetyou @bitchwitch1981 @futuraa-free @luxurychristmaspudding
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xanthippe-writes · 22 days
Text
Below is a snippet from my InuKag Greek Lore AU, entitled Bound.
The angel known as @moonkissedart devoted her incomparable talents to a piece from this chapter that I am compelled to share; it must shine in all its breathtaking glory.
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Traditional art by @moonkissedart. Permission to share granted by the artist.
Thank Moonkissed for this peek, and please tag her in any compliments you have about THE EXTRAORDINARY ART OH MY GOD IT’S UNBELIEVABLE THERE’S MAGIC IN HER HANDS 🥰❤️
⚠️ CW: Smuttish? Idk how to rate this, but it’s a little filthy.
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Chapter 7: I Shall Not See The Shadows
He was coming for her.
Red moon ascending in the sky, Kagome sprinted through the twilight-basked wood, landscape a blur. Her arms pumped at her sides as she leapt over roots and dodged branches with all the grace of a deer.
He was hunting her.
The split hem of her white tunic whipped around her thighs as she ran, heartbeat pounding in her ears. She tried to maintain control over her breathing, coming in pants, as she sped up.
Kagome tightened her fists until her knuckles turned white. She knew her efforts to flee him were in vain. It didn’t matter how quickly she ran; he would catch her. He was faster than her, bigger than her, stronger than her -
A fearsome roar tore through the atmosphere, quaking the earth itself and leaving panic in its wake. At once, the forest became a frenzy of activity. Petrified birds hastily abandoned their nests and skittered away into the sky. Groundlings either scurried into the safety of their burrows or the nearest hiding place. Those frozen in fear merely cowered in place.
But Kagome couldn’t hide. She could never escape him.
“Aaah!” She winced as the pointed tip of a passing branch sliced her thigh. The scrape stung and she knew it was bleeding.
He’ll smell it.
Kagome’s stomach twinged. She may as well have lit a homing beacon. She cursed herself for this foolish mistake, but she didn’t stop running.
Near instantly, beyond the trees, she sensed a truly powerful demonic aura barreling towards her at an incredible speed.
She thought she’d have more time. Her heart fluttered maddeningly in her chest as the demon closed in on his target - her.
Not a moment later, mid-stride, two clawed hands roughly seized Kagome from behind, yanking her backwards into what felt like an impregnable wall of stone. Feral snarls overtook her screams. One large, calloused palm gripped her throat tightly, forcing her to tilt her head up. The other held the curve of her hip in an ironclad grasp.
Belatedly processing what had just happened, Kagome’s chest frantically rose and fell as she tried to calm her nerves and regain her breath despite the hand lightly squeezing her windpipe.
He caught me.
Kagome found herself trembling, but it wasn’t from fear.
Warm lips pressed against the shell of her ear. Unknowingly, she angled her neck submissively in response. The sharp point of a fang pricked her there before dragging languidly across her pulse point and down to the juncture of her neck and shoulder. The titillating sensation had her mewling and arching her back, pressing her hardened nipples into the fabric of her tunic.
“You know.. what it does to me.. when you run.”
His voice was gravelly and low, interspersed pants betraying his true bestial nature. As if to punctuate his remarks, he snaked his arm around her waist, hand splayed across her abdomen pressing her bottom more intimately against him. His cock was hot, hard, and pulsing with the strength of his need. Knees weak, Kagome’s mouth fell open as she threw her head back, grabbing onto him to keep from falling.
Her mind raced with all the different ways she wanted him inside her.
He moved his hand from her throat to her breast, massaging its fullness in his palm before roughly pinching and twisting the taut peak between his index and forefinger. The breaths that left Kagome were wanton as goosebumps glided over her glistening skin.
Growls emanated from the chest of her captor, rumbling through Kagome’s body and culminating at the apex of her thighs. She squeezed her knees together when she felt a fresh wave of desire seep from her womanhood and dampen her underclothes.
The demon grunted in a way that told her he was smirking. Oh, he was downright delighted; depraved and even a bit diabolical. His prey was finally in his grasp, totally at his mercy, and effectively melting into him. He pushed his nose into the side of her neck, smile on his lips, then intentionally drew in a slow, deep breath to highlight her condition.
“Smelling my bitch wet and wanting me.”
The thick, intoxicating scent of her arousal had him drowning in a lusty haze. He could barely think straight, let alone maintain control over his demon, so desperate was he for a taste of her. The mere thought of her moist silky folds on his tongue had saliva dripping from his fangs and open, eager mouth, onto Kagome’s shoulder. The hotness of his breath on her neck combined with the wetness of his drool had Kagome’s toes curling in anticipation.
She knew he was going to devour her.
Kagome couldn’t stop the broken whimper that left her throat.
“Inu-yasha!“
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Traditional art by @moonkissedart. Permission to share granted by the artist.
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Taglist:
@heynikkiyousofine ; @ruddcatha ; @moonkissedart ; @pipistrellee ; @thenoammonster
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alecvolturi · 7 months
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Dual Uses of a Secretarial Desk - Felix Volturi Smut
A continuation of "Uses of a Secretarial Desk", which is Demetri focused.
Part 3 here - Ft Demetri & Felix.
Characters: Felix Volturi, a reader with female genitals. Brief Demetri.
Names used to refer to the reader: spoiled/good/sweet/darling/desperate/perfect/lovely girl & little one.
This work contains acts such as dirty talk, praise, vaginal fingering, and oral sex.
That night, after Demetri and Felix had left, you returned to your assigned quarters (unfortunately located close to BOTH Felix's and Demetri’s own) with your cheeks red from your embarrassment. An embarrassment that renewed every time you replayed the memory of Demetri’s kisses, his words, his cock, and worst, the fact it had all been a dream. A dream that Demetri, and Felix, had apparently gathered the context of, if not the content altogether. Felix’s parting words had proven that.
Sweet dreams
You could still see the smirk he’d given you, taunting and amused, and the humiliation you felt burned almost as hot as the fire still throbbing between your thighs, the heat curling low in your stomach. Huffing in irritation, both at the situation and your persistent arousal, you change into your pajamas and throw yourself into bed determined to approach tomorrow as if nothing had happened.
Demetri and Felix had manners. If you pretended it didn’t happen, surely they’d play along. It’s the gentlemanly way to handle this, you thought reassuringly to yourself, before slipping into sleep.
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The desk was unforgiving against your hip bones, hard, smooth from regular polishing, and cool to the touch. Your hands were in front of you, forearms braced flat against the wood, and your palms lay upon the subtle wood grain. Your forehead lay upon one of your forearms, your head had lowered once the effort of keeping it lifted became too much. Felix’s firm hand on the small of your back kept you bent over your secretarial desk, and your hips pressed against the edge of it.
“Relax,” he murmured, seemingly not caring whether you could hear him or whether you understood the words, muffled by your cunt as they were. The vibrations of his mouth moving against you, of his breath, created more vibrations to make your body shiver, and he used the distraction it created to slip one hand under your belly, drawing it down to join his mouth as it pressed into your pussy. You didn’t need to follow verbal instructions; the other kind would suffice.
He cupped your clit. Then he stroked the edges of your lips with his tongue. As anticipated, you let loose a strangled, ragged moan.
“No more whining now, eh? What a spoiled girl, wanting to be fucked by Demetri, and wanting to be devoured by me.” You yelped softly as his tongue ran over your folds again, breath hitching as he moaned at your taste, the sound vibrating against you just right and stimulating a sensitive spot.
“And what a sweet girl you are,” he paused to make a pointed lick starting at your clit, his wet, cool tongue dragging up to bury itself briefly inside you and his hand pinned you more firmly to the desk as you buck in response “pretty little cunt dripping so endearingly on my tongue. So sweet too, I could spend hours here.”
There was a smile in his voice now, and it sounded almost devilish.
“I bet Demetri could too.” You opened your mouth to respond, your head making a slight motion where it lay but the words died on your tongue, viciously shoved to the side and replaced by a wanton moan as Felix slid two of his fingers from his free hand inside of you, their size larger than your own and making you feel so much fuller than you could ever achieve with your own. The stretch was unbelievable, a pleasant ache that gnawed at you but without causing pain, likely helped along by his saliva and your fluids. 
“There we go, little one. I know it’s not the cock you crave, but from those pretty sounds you’re making for me, I assume you’ll make do.” He curls those same fingers downward, seemingly searching for something and you think it odd as he feels so good inside you already what could-
The thought cuts off abruptly as the pads of his fingers find a spongey spot along your front wall where his fingers are curling and it’s like you’ve been electrocuted. You jerk suddenly, hips canting, the pleasure intense and unexpected, a moan ripping from your mouth as a sob. Felix makes a pleased sound, dropping a kiss to your folds, lips likely grazing his fingers steadily pumping inside you now, before his lips travel further downward to find your clit again.
His tongue laps at you teasingly, and you mewl, before his lips close around your clit, sucking, and then you’re begging.
“Please, please, oh fuck, Felix please.”
Over and over again, a desperate symphony as your eyes roll back. Sometimes it’s not Felix’s name, but Demetri’s that spills from your lips. Not that Felix seems to pay it any mind, or care. The pleasure is almost too much and somehow also not enough. That knot that’s been steadily building in your stomach, winding tighter and tighter in your lower abdomen since almost the moment Felix knelt behind you seems ready to snap and, god, you’re not sure you can handle that. The strength of it. Your hands that have been flat against the desk have curled, fingers bent and digging into the surface of the desk. If you were a vampire like the one currently making a meal of your soaked cunt, you’re sure you’d have turned the wood into dust. As it is, you feel as if you could gouge grooves into the wood's perfect surface with your fingernails.
Felix’s mouth pulls from you, and you make an undignified sound as his fingers settle into a faster pace to compensate for the loss. A loss that isn’t complete, as he now uses his mouth to speak, his words causing you to clench around his fingers and further increase the sharp pleasure burrowing itself into you.
“Look at you, squirming on my fingers. What a pretty sight you make, pleading for them to make you cum. And you will, won’t you? You’re so close, darling girl. I can feel it, my good girl.”
You’re panting, gasping for air, and fighting to keep your eyes open, the urge to close them against the onslaught of pleasure almost too much. His praise causes a tingling feeling, and your head seems pleasantly fuzzy. The squeak of your office chair shifting in front of you is a distant reminder, clouded in your preorgasmic haze, but the words that follow are clear.
“Our good girl”, Demetri drawls from his place in the chair. The chair he had claimed and placed on the other side of the desk, facing you, with the perfect view to watch your face as Felix made an effortless mess of your pussy.
You open your mouth to respond to him, to them, because, yes, yes you are. God, you’re theirs. Always, forever, and for however long they wish to keep you. You’re dragging your head up to meet Demetri’s gaze, your eyes gliding over the confident smile upon his face, when Felix seems to hit gold. His fingers thrusting and curling against that spot inside you perfectly line up with the sensation of his mouth on your clit and just as your eyes lock with the stunning red of Demetri’s, you’re gone. Lost, saved. Thrown. There’s a final, strong clench of your cunt around Felix’s fingers, almost as if to make sure they won’t leave you, before you’re clenching rhythmically, whiney gasps and hitching breaths leaving you as your eyes are again rolling back and then finally closed, clenching tightly shut in the onslaught of sensation.
“Oh, fuck. Such a beautiful sight.”
“God, you’re gripping my fingers so tightly. Next time, you’re coming on my cock, lovely girl.”
“Desperate, perfect sounds from our desperate, perfect girl.”
“There we go, pretty girl. That’s it. Let it out. Such a good girl for us.”
Two voices are speaking, overlapping praise filling your ears and you’re seeing stars behind your lids, hips moving in an attempt to milk as much as the sensation possible out of the experience and you’re-
You’re shooting upright in bed, the silken sheets tangled around your legs and your chest heaving like you’d just gone and finished a marathon.
“Fuck!”
If you’d had any hope of existing at all within the same room as them tomorrow without further embarrassing yourself and maintaining a possible semblance of normal, that dream destroyed it.
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ficsforeren · 2 years
Text
Shadow Kiss
Pairing: Eren Jaeger X Female Reader
Genre: Vampire AU, Roommates AU, Smut, Fluff, Comedy
Summary: Supernatural creatures don’t scare you, so when the cute neighbor who lives just across the hallway offers you a chance to move in for cheaper rent, you agree in a heartbeat–even when he consumes human blood on a daily basis and making thirst trap videos on TikTok for a living.
Warnings: vampire sex, drunk sex, sex in front of a mirror, blood sucking, unprotected sex, slight choking, swearing, alcohol consumption. 
Word Count: 18K (I'm sorry, he's such a diva in this fic, I had to include a lot of his crazy antics 💀)
I'm very proud to announce that this is my first collab with Nokky from @rainbuniart! Thank you for the amazing drawing, baby. I can't wait to see your Vampire Prince Eren fanart next 😍😍😍
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Supernatural things don’t really scare you. Growing up in a family that tells urban legends and mystical myths as bedtime stories makes you feel somewhat reserved toward spooky stuff, to the point that you won’t even bat an eyelash during a jump scare at literally any scary movie out there. It’s not like you’ve seen any supernatural creatures with your own eyes but you believe in their existence, especially when you live in a town where freaky things happen on a daily basis.
You’re not sure about werewolves and zombies, but vampires do roam the earth the second the moon replaces the sun. It’s not merely a rumor anymore, it’s a fact. But they keep their presence a secret, trying to act as humanly as possible so they won’t gather unnecessary attention. And since no one has found any dead bodies with bite marks or severe blood loss, people don’t identify them as a threat. You perceive things similarly. As long as they don’t bother you, then you can coexist in peace. That’s what you believe.
So when you visit your neighbor in the middle of the night, the unbelievably hot guy who lives just across the hallway, you figure you’ll see him smiling back, maybe even offer you a cup of coffee out of courtesy. Now, you don’t usually barge into someone else’s apartment even when the front door is unlocked, but seeing how the two of you are already on a first-name basis, always greeting each other with a nod whenever your eyes make eye contact, you think to yourself, Yeah, he wouldn’t mind if I come in, would he? What’s the worst thing that could happen anyway? He’s too cute to be a serial killer. Which, you realize soon enough, was poor, terrible logic on your part.
But you twist open his doorknob with a click and invite yourself in.
So clearly, you did not expect to see him sitting bare-chested on the couch with his girlfriend’s legs hooked around his waist. Clearly, you did not expect to see his hand yanking at the roots of her hair, forcing her to expose the column of her neck and making her call his name in the most wanton moan you’ve ever heard in your life—even if you’ve had a fair share of watching porn movies (for, umm, research purposes). And you most clearly did not expect to see him sinking his canines deep into her skin, paying no mind to the hot, crimson liquid that taint her bare shoulder, and groaning in bliss as he relishes the taste of her blood.
So naturally, the only thing you can think of is:
Oh shit.
“Wait!” A hand finds its way to tangle around your wrist when you slip behind his front door to run back to your apartment. His icy cold skin makes you flinch in surprise but you keep your face still. As you turn around to see the owner, you’re greeted by a pair of red, glowing eyes. You remember precisely that your neighbor, who you assume is in his early twenties, has a pair of emeralds instead of rubies. But perhaps your mind is playing a trick on you because, by the time you blink, they change back to green, only this time, they look darker than the night.
His brunette hair is long enough to cascade down to his shoulders, seeming unbelievably soft and silky as it frames his strong cheekbones. His lips and cheeks are smeared with fresh blood, possibly from trying to wipe his mouth in a haste with the back of his hand. His fangs are no longer shown and although he seems breathless, you can tell he’s not breathing from how still his chest is moving (but you’re too distracted with the sight of how toned it is to care). And his abs… Let’s not talk about his abs, you mentally slap yourself, knowing that you could make a whole PowerPoint presentation to inform the world about how perfect they are. His black jeans are hanging dangerously low on his hips, unbuttoned but not yet unzipped, and it’s harder for you to not stare at his V-lines compared to the amount of blood that painted his lips.
Trying to act nonchalant, you simply ask, “Yes?”
“This isn’t what it looks like.”
“Oh, so you’re saying you're not a vampire who was drinking blood from your girlfriend’s neck a few seconds ago?”
He gapes, eyes growing wide, before, “Okay, then it is what it looks like.”
You retract your hand, giving him a formal nod. “Cool.”
“Cool?”
“Yeah, as in, no problem.” You nonchalantly shrug. “You've got a kink. I understand.”
“No, I mean—” He pinches the bridge of his nose, somewhat dizzy from your reaction. “Why are you so calm about this?”
Your forehead creases in confusion. “Would you rather have me freaking out and tell our landlord that you’ve been spilling a maiden’s blood on his carpet?”
“Well, no, but—” He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Also, I’m a professional. I don’t leave stains.”
Your eyes drift down to the carpeted floor underneath him, stained by a few droplets of crimson. “Sure, you don’t.”
The man, catching your gaze, turns flustered. “That was from last night. I was in a hurry.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“I haven’t spilled anything today.”
“Congratulations, I’m impressed.” You clap your hands twice, face blank. “Well anyway, I guess I owe you an apology. I didn’t mean to sneak into your apartment without permission and disturb your…” You scratch your cheek, attempting to find the right word. “Late night snacking time—”
“Oh, God.” He rubs his palm over his face but before he can protest any further, his lover is calling him from the inside of his room.
“Eren, baby, come back to me. I haven’t cummed yet.”
You stare flatly at him, trying not to look as judgmental as possible but most likely failing terribly at it. “She sounds nice.”
He mirrors the look on your face. “Yeah, well, she tastes nice.”
“Ugh, too much info there, buddy.”
“No, I mean, her blood, not her—” You’re not sure whether vampires can blush but this one surely seems like he can. “Why did you even come here again?”
“Oh, that’s right.” You recall. “This is completely cliche and I wish I could provide a better excuse but I was making coffee and I ran out of sugar. Do you have some I can borrow? And maybe some cream?”
“Seriously?” It’s supposed to be a sarcastic response, but when he sees you nodding your head, he adds, “Do I look like I drink coffee in my spare time?”
“You spend eternity without drinking coffee?” You gasp, laying a hand on your heart. “I feel sorry for you.”
“Leave. Please.”
***
On the next evening, you find yourself crossing the hallway and knocking on his apartment door again. Knowing how patience has never been one of your virtues, you spin his doorknob after your third knock. Like last night, it’s unlocked with a click so you invite yourself in, calling his name.
“Jaeger, are you here—”
“I really need to fix that stupid lock.”
The sound of his voice startles you when he suddenly walks into view, but not as much as the sight of him with a towel hanging around his neck. His long dark hair is pushed back, dripping water to his bare chest. You know you shouldn’t look but that’s exactly what you’re doing, following those droplets as they slide down his navel, soaking the towel he has wrapped around his waist.
He notices you’re staring and he lets you take as much time as you want to marvel at his body. When you come back to your senses, bringing your eyes back to his face, he tosses you a small smirk, “So, how was it?”
“How—“ You clear your throat. “How was what?”
“The experience of running your virgin eyes over my god-like abs.”
You cough once but other than that, you succeed at keeping yourself reticent and unfazed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“So, you’re fine seeing me with human blood on my face but completely left in shock when I’m half-naked?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You sound like a robot with the vocabulary of a toddler.
“You do know us vampires can tell when you’re lying, right? We can hear your heartbeat.”
Fantastic. “Oh, yeah, that’s right.” If acting nonchalant doesn’t work, it’s time to bite back with sarcasm—that’s always been your motto. “Because you totally heard me walking into your apartment last night.”
“That—” He clears his throat. “I was… distracted.”
“You mean you were too horny to notice.”
“You—” He let out a harsh breath, perhaps a habit he invented to make him seem more human? “Are you going to visit me every day? ‘Cause I’m gonna have to file a complaint if you are.”
“Can’t I greet my neighbor?” You sweetly ask, batting your eyelashes.
He snorts loudly but walks away, throwing himself on the couch. “Seriously, why aren’t you surprised about this?”
“About you being a vampire? Or about your God awful taste in women?”
“Yeah?” He mocks back, making a face. “As if your boyfriend Armin Arlert is any better.” When he sees you tuck your chin, seemingly mortified, he snickers. “Enlighten me, Princess. How does it feel to have a lover that can only last for one minute during—”
“Okay, I’ll take my words back. Everything. Can we move on, please?” You try to yank yourself back to your normal state, even when you feel downright ashamed. “So, this vampire thing. How long have you been a vampire?”
“Long enough.”
“How old were you when you first turned?”
“Young enough.”
“How often do you drink human blood?“
“Often enough.”
You glare at him, earning a sly grin in return. “You’re not taking me seriously, are you?”
He sends you the best solemn expression he can manage, even when his lips are itching to form a smirk. “Serious enough.”
“Right, okay, I’m leaving. Have fun being an asshole for eternity.”
But the second you pivot in your heels, Eren is already on the other side of the room. His superhuman speed startles you, almost knocking you off your balance. Closing the front door, Eren leans his back against it. “Now, now,” he croons, tilting his head, “You come in as you please, uninvited. You don’t think I’ll let you go just like that, do you?”
You raise an eyebrow in question. “What do you want?”
“I think it’s something that we both want.” He steps closer, his husky voice turning smooth and alluring. “You know what I’m talking about, right?”
You gulp, suddenly becoming nervous. He’s an arms reach away, and then closer, and closer until you can feel his cold fingers tracing against your cheekbone. He lifts your face, locking his striking green eyes with yours and you swear, you see them glow.
“I’m—” You can feel your breathing stutter. “I’m not giving you my blood.”
“But it’s not blood that I want from you.” His eyes are hooded, his thumb tracing your lower lip. “I’ve been thinking about this lately, so much that I could barely think about anything else.”
Your heart is a ticking bomb inside your chest. “A-about what?”
He pulls back his lips, showcasing a pair of white fangs that petrifies you at once. He dives his head, the tip of his canines grazing against the supple skin of your neck before he shifts closer to your ear and he whispers.
“About our rent. Do you want to move in together so we can split the rental fee?”
***
It’s both ridiculous and dumb, his offer to move in together for cheaper rent, so it’s even more ridiculous and dumb when you agree to it. Several reasons make sense, actually—at least, to you anyway: 1) your neighbor may be a vampire but he’s super hot and although that doesn’t make everything okay, it does make his offer sound incredibly tempting, 2) your landlord is going to raise the rent in the following two months, 3) your part-time job’s salary can only cover so much of your living cost and you have no savings whatsoever, 4) if you can ignore the fact that he brings random girls at night for midnight snacks, he becomes much, much more attractive.
Of course, there are risks to think about as well. Sharing a place with another person can be a hassle, so you can only imagine how problematic it would be to share your home with a vampire. What if he loses control? What if he gets too thirsty and starts drinking from you instead?
You swallow hard. The thought of it is actually kind of… sexy.
Armin. You mentally slap yourself in the head. You have a boyfriend, you idiot. Stop having a crush on your damn neighbor.
But it's not like there is anything serious going on with Armin, is it? You guys were just lab partners in high school, went on a couple of dates, had a terribly awkward first kiss, had a heavy make-out session with him ejaculating under one minute when you dry-humped him on the couch of your living room and that’s it. You like him, he likes you, but yeah, nothing serious.
“My apartment or yours?” You ask Eren after a week has passed by, the second he opens his door for you. “Your apartment is bigger, but mine is cleaner.”
“Whatever you want, Princess,” he smirks, leaning against the doorframe as he crosses his arms in front of his chest. “I don’t mind as long as we can split the fee.”
“Yeah, why is that? You’re running out of money?”
His smirk instantly falters. It takes him a few seconds before he answers in chagrin, "Yeah."
"You've been alive for what, centuries? And you're still broke?"
Your judging tone makes him tighten his jaws. “Well, it’s not exactly easy for vampires to get a job these days.”
“You literally have superhuman skills.”
“Well, you guys have technology!” He throws his hands in the air, absolutely disgusted with the word by the sight of it. “And the Internet! Sure, I can run pretty fast, I have super hearing and super strength—hell, I can see in the dark too but these fucking technologies can do literally everything I’m capable of—and everything I’m not capable of—with only a few clicks! Do you think that’s fair? For me, an eight hundred-year-old vampire, to be pushed aside like this by a goddamn remote? And what is that thing you guys do on your phones where you dance to random songs and do things like taking off your shirt— ”
“You mean TikTok?”
“YES!” He exclaims dramatically with his head thrown back. “I fucking hate that thing! Back in my days, we needed to use flattery and gold and gifts to win a lady’s heart—not me, though, have you seen this face?” His cocky smirk returns for a few seconds to make a point before he starts raging again. “But look at them now! They just took off their clothes and they got hundreds of girls saying, Mmm, Daddy, spit in my mouth and call me a whore—how is that fair?! I also want to spit in a girl’s mouth and call her a whore without having her file a restraining order against me!”
Never in your life would you have thought that you’d see a vampire complaining about TikTok’s thirst traps with his cheeks puffing out in anger, but here you are. “Do you need a hug?”
He’s still pouting but he weakly shrugs. “Yeah, okay.”
“There, there.” You give him a pat on his back as he leans down so you can reach his height. “I’ll teach you how to make a thirst trap video someday, how about that?”
He nods like a child. “Promise?”
“Promise.” You pull away, squeezing his shoulders. “Don’t worry, you’ll get through this. So, about moving in together. Shall we talk about house rules and stuff?”
“Sure, but before that,” he sweetly smiles, opening his door wider for you. “Come in. I won’t bite.”
It’s something about him using that poor choice of words with that teasing smirk on his face that makes your stomach feel uneasy but you nod and let yourself in. As he closes the door, he adds, “Unless that's what you’re into.”
“Getting my blood drunk by a vampire?” You scoff, trying to steady your racing heart though he can probably tell already. “Why would it be something I’m into?”
“Well, my ladies surely enjoyed it,” he chuckles and you secretly think to yourself, yeah because you’re fucking hot, that’s why, but you keep yourself ignorant on the outside. “But if you’re ever curious,” he coos, eyes gleaming as he snatches a hair tie from his wrist, pushes his bangs back with one hand, and ties his hair up messily in a bun. “I’m down anytime you want.”
You shudder, but from disgust or excitement, you’re not sure. “Thanks, but no thanks. So, house rules?”
***
It turns out to be shockingly easy to share an apartment with an undead creature of the night. Your source of information regarding vampires is from the collection of your young adult supernatural novels, ranging from something serious like Interview with The Vampire to something mediocre like The Vampire Diaries, and something absolutely ridiculous and downright outrageous like Twilight. So it’s not really surprising when your first assumption of vampires are dead people who look unusually pale but strikingly attractive, have constant frowns on their faces as they brood over literally everything that’s happening as if they’re constipated all the time (they’re not since vampires don’t have that bodily function anymore) and kill people in their spare time by sucking their blood dry.
But Eren isn’t like that at all. At one point, you have to remind yourself that he’s a vampire who's lived for 845 years and not a brat going through puberty.
Because Eren isn’t pale, his skin is tan as if he was kissed by the sun when he has been hiding from it his whole life. It’s smooth, unscarred, and almost golden under the fluorescent light of your apartment.
He’s not heartless either. He cried (he wouldn’t admit it but he did) when he watched Hachiko, even when the dog owner was still alive and well. He kept shouting to the screen, “Bad shit is going to happen. Bad shit is going to happen to the dog—look how cute that dog is—look just how fucking cute he is—he doesn’t deserve any pain—if this dog dies by the end of the movie, I will combust!" By the end of the movie when the dog died (oops spoiler alert), Eren was bawling his eyes out, coughing and choking and everything. At one point, he even said, “Fuck, I feel like I’m about to throw up my intestines.”
“Chill, dude. It's just a movie.”
“THEY SAID IT WAS BASED ON A TRUE STORY, YOU COLD-BLOODED WITCH!”
So the thought of him killing someone by sucking their blood dry? Seems very unlikely.
And he’s not broody or angry all the time. Yes, Eren has quite a temper, but he’s extremely playful and annoyingly mischievous. He keeps his stock of blood in empty bottles of red wine and places them inside the fridge with a handwritten note that says: “It’s really just wine, Princess. I bought some as a housewarming gift. Come take a sip.” You did, once, out of curiosity, and from that day on you promised yourself that you would never trust his words ever again for as long as you live.
Being a monster, he should’ve been the cause of people’s fear, but in reality, Eren gets startled easily by a lot of things—even the things that shouldn’t scare a baby. You will never forget the day when a loud crash came thundering from his room, two seconds before he came barging into yours, screaming, “THERE’S A COCKROACH FLYING IN MY ROOM!”
“And what did you do?”
“I THREW THE TV AT IT BUT THAT FUCKING THING STILL LIVES!”
“What?! But that’s our TV!”
“IT WAS FLYING TO MY FACE AND I PANICKED—WHAT THE FUCK WAS I SUPPOSED TO DO?!”
Even a butterfly that sneaks in from the window makes him jump on his feet. It was cute the first two times it happened, but seeing how he keeps on throwing random things—your phone, included—to keep the bugs away, you probably should start adding another house rule.
Speaking about rules, they’re pretty basic. It’s settled that you’ll both do your cleaning separately. No borrowing things without permission, no spending too much time in the bathroom because although he doesn’t need to go to the toilet, Eren enjoys drawing himself a warm bubble bath for hours. He'd do the most cliche things too, like putting Michael Bublé’s songs on speaker, taking a sip of his ‘red wine’ and calling it the perfect “Bublé Bath.” Now, you might think he would look fancy when he does it. His beautiful long hair grazing his shoulders; the colorful bubbles (yes, he’s using rainbow bath bombs) doing a poor, poor job at hiding his God-like body; his tongue running across his lower lip to wipe the blood before it dribbles down his chin, maybe even a sight of his fangs peeking out behind his devilish smirk. H-O-T. But it turns out that’s not the case.
Imagine walking into the bathroom to find a vampire chilling inside your tub, his legs draping on the edge, his fist curling in the air as if he was holding an invisible microphone in his hand. He'd have his eyes closed as he belted out his high notes, passionately singing, "Let me go homeeeeeeee" as if he was auditioning for a lead role in Mamma Mia. This is what you have to deal with every Sunday morning.
And you’re fine with him bringing girls over to your place as long as he does his midnight snacking in his own room. You were against it at first, but then you figure that you’re going to have Armin in your room from time to time too (your date night is cheaper this way) so you really don’t have the right to forbid him.
But man, if only you could take your words back.
Because when Eren said his ladies surely enjoyed it when he drank from them, you didn’t think that they would enjoy it this much. And you didn’t think that drinking blood from a human equals having sex with them all night long.
The sound of “Aah, yes, fuck me just like that,” and “Bite me again, Eren, please, I want you to bite me just as hard as you fuck me,” can be heard coming endlessly from his bedroom whenever he brings a girl over—sometimes even two at the same time. You have to plug your AirPods into your ears to tone down your suffering, blasting the volume to the max until you can literally feel your ears turn deaf. Even when you’ve pulled your pillow over your head, you can still hear them. Your apartment has excellent sound-proofed walls so your neighbors don’t really hear the loud screeches they’re making, but for you who sleeps in your bed just across the living room? A living hell.
Fortunately, it doesn’t happen every day. It doesn’t happen every week, even, since he always keeps some stocks of blood in the fridge.
“Did you take this blood from those girls?” You grimaced one night, as you opened your refrigerator to slide in your leftover and noticed three huge bottles of red wine filled up to the brim.
He laughed, waving a hand. “Of course not, stupid. How could I even do that in the first place? I bought some blood bags from the hospital, obviously.” He was sitting on the couch before but when he delivered his next line, he suddenly stood behind you, lips hovering dangerously close to your ear. “And just in case you’re wondering,” you could feel his smirk grazing your earlobe. “I only drink directly when I want to have sex.”
The heat was spreading almost immediately to your cheeks so you hid it by throwing a punch to his stomach, which he easily dodged. “Still,” you complained, “There’s blood in my fridge.”
“Hey, I never complain when you keep your celery juice in there.” He scrunched his nose in disgust. “I don’t eat or drink human foods, but who the fuck drinks celery juice?”
***
Eren is also quite passionate and it shows whenever he talks about something that he likes or intrigues him. It’s nice to have someone to fill the silence, moving from one random topic to another, never letting an awkward pause stretch out for too long. But he can also be exceptionally annoying when you have some paperwork to do and he’s bothering you because he’s bored out of his mind. He’ll start pestering you with questions—unimportant questions—like, “If you only have one eye, are you blinking or winking?” Or “Why is it that when you are sleeping it’s called drool but when you are awake it’s called spit?” And the stupidest of them all, “Why did Superman wear his briefs on the outside of his tights?”
And you’ll eventually start to lose it, throw a pillow to his face and yell, “GET OUT OF MY ROOM!”
But by the end of the day, it’s really fun to have him around. Not just because you can secretly enjoy the sight of him coming out of your shared bathroom with only a towel hanging low around his hips, but also because he’s a vampire and you can spend your time doing actual research about it.
“So,” you began one day after the sun had sunk below the horizon and he crawled out of his room with the biggest bird’s nest on his head. You had a romance novel on your lap, your fingers running through the pages. “Are you like an actual vampire or are you the romanticized, somewhat gay vampire they usually depict in books?”
“Well, I’ve been with a few men before but I still prefer women better.” He took a seat beside you on the couch, laying his feet on the coffee table. You kind of just stared at him, not exactly judging his words, just… bewildered. Noticing the look on your face, he added, “When you’ve lived for a century, you gotta learn how to keep things interesting, even if that means having a dick in your mouth.”
“That’s…” You swallowed. “Not exactly something I want to imagine.”
"You've never had a dick in your mouth? That's sad."
"I meant, imagining you."
"Oh." His devilish smirk returned. “You should, though. Try picturing me with your boyfriend Armin for a sec. Don’t we look cute together?” You had to look away when he wiggled his eyebrows at you. You just had to. “Actually, I don’t care what their biological sex, gender, or gender identity is,” Eren shrugged. “As long as they’re pretty and not hairy, I’ll sleep with them.”
“You’re okay with all genders but you can’t handle pubic hair?”
“No, I meant, hairy. Like a werewolf.”
“You’ve slept with a werewolf?!” You gaped. “I didn’t know they even existed!”
“Yep, not doing that again.” He shuddered at the memory. “I had fur in my butthole because of that.”
“You know there are things you can share, and there are things you should bring to your grave. That last one is the latter.”
“Sorry, can’t do that. You see, I don’t have a grave.”
He didn’t have one, true, but you were so tempted in making one for him right then. “So, these vampire books you said you read,” Eren went back to the previous topic after cackling for a whole ten seconds at the aggravated look on your face. “How do they depict us exactly?”
“You’ve never read one?”
“Have you ever read any books about humans written by vampires?”
“Fair point. Well, it said that vampires couldn’t see themselves in the mirror.”
“Myth,” he replied, leaning his head against the couch. “I can see myself in the mirror and I like seeing myself just as much as you do whenever I come out of the bathroom.”
You almost choked on the cinnamon cookie you just ate. “Excuse me?!” You coughed, eyes starting to get a little teary. “Who said I like looking at you?”
“You don’t?” The way his eyes twinkled made you a little bit weak. A puckish grin grew apparent on his face. “You sure about that?”
You cleared your throat, flipping another page of your book. “Next question,” you continued, ignoring the soft laugh he emitted. “Do garlic, holy water, and silver scare you?”
“They don’t scare me,” he clicked his tongue, vexed by the way you composed your words. “I just don’t like them.”
“Right, so that’s a yes. Do you have to be invited in to be able to enter someone’s home?”
He ground his jaw, bitterly muttering, “Yes.”
“Can you read someone’s thoughts?”
“No, but I can tell how they’re feeling through their heartbeat.” His eyes were boring into yours, lips curving upward. “Like you, for example. I can tell that whenever I’m around you, your heartbeat runs just a little bit faster.”
You glanced away, rubbing your nose. “No, it doesn’t.”
“Ah,” he showcased his perfect marbled teeth as he grinned knowingly. “Just like that. Your heartbeat is increasing again. Are you lying to me, Princess?”
“You’re so annoying, you know that?”
“It’s part of my charm.”
“Speaking of that,” you immediately said, knowing it was the perfect chance to avert his attention to another topic. “Can you charm someone?”
“With these looks?” He gestured to his entire body. “Abso-fucking-lutely.”
“I’m being serious.”
“So am I.” But when you started scowling at him, he added, “But if you’re talking about mind compulsion, yes, I am able to do that. I can erase and alter people’s memories, even controlling them only by making eye contact.”
“That sounds pretty convenient.”
“Yeah, well, I don’t like doing it.” The sudden change in his attitude left you frowning. He seemed pensive as he fixed his gaze on the ceiling. “I’ve done that many times in the past and I didn’t—” He released a sharp breath, as if talking about it reminded him of something that he loathed about himself. “I hated it.”
You tilted your head to the side, curiosity gnawing at your chest. “What… did you do exactly? If you don’t mind answering.”
His jaw tightened, seemingly conflicted for a couple of seconds before he forced himself to smile. “I do mind, actually.”
“Oh, umm… Sorry.” Eren, like everybody else, had secrets he wished he could keep to himself. And that was fine, you should respect his privacy. But seeing how he had no problems sharing everything else with you made you wonder even more, even slightly worried. Did he trick people to give him their blood? You mused. No, if he only did that, he wouldn’t look this distraught. A hint of dread crawled up your skin. What if he did… something worse? What if he—
“What are you brooding about?” He lightly nudged you with his elbow, tittering. “Relax, I’m not gonna use compulsion on you. Hypnotizing someone to get what I want just doesn’t sit right with me. I want to feel a connection, you know?”
You could tell how much he wanted you both to act casual, pretending like he didn’t say anything weird. Deciding to honor his privacy, you dismissed the matter for now and went back to your regular teasing. “So doing one night stands with vampire groupies is the perfect way to earn that connection, I suppose?”
He had his tongue poking the inside of his cheek as he grew both irked and amused at your comeback. “You really know how to attack someone’s pride, huh?”
“Part of my charm,” you mimicked him with a nod. “Okay, next question. Can you die with a wooden stake piercing your heart?”
He rolled his eyes. “Everybody dies with a stake in—what is this, an interrogation?”
“Do churches—”
“Okay, Princess.” He closed your book, his smile stretching widely but it wasn’t enough to reach his eyes. “I think that’s enough. My turn now.”
You furrowed your eyebrows, not entirely pleased with the way he just suddenly changed the direction of your conversation. “What do you want to know?” You indulged him anyway.
He tilted his head, propping his elbow on his thigh, fingers tapping against his cheek as he rested his chin on his palm. Gazing at you intensely, he asked, “Are you a virgin?”
It didn’t take even a split second for your cheeks to turn warm. “T-that’s—What kind of question is that—”
“Ah, so you are.” His smile grew a bit larger, but you weren’t sure whether he was entertained, aroused, or just excited to mock you about it. “Is that why you’ve been staring at me a lot lately? Because you’re curious?”
“For the last time,” you emphasized, though your heart was hammering against your rib cages. “I wasn’t looking at you. I never—”
“You’re adorable when you lie,” he snickered, a lopsided grin painting his face. “Your heartbeat sounds like you just did a marathon. Are you okay?”
You threw your book at him, successfully wiping the smirk on his goddamn perfect face before you raced back to your room.
“Ah, she’s really cute.” Was the last thing you heard him say before you slammed your bedroom door behind you.
***
For a vampire, Eren’s presence is as blinding as the sun, always managing to lift your mood whenever you’re too stressed out about your college assignments or drained from your part-time job. Of course, he’s also the cause of your stress more often than not, but whenever you get into a fight with him—usually because he’s so disorganized and you’re too obsessive to keep everything in order—it doesn’t last long and it always ends up with him making you the best dinner you’ve ever had to compensate for his actions, even when he’s not the one at fault.
Eren doesn’t consume human food but he makes the best cuisine you’ve ever tasted in your life. And the sight of him wearing your apron with his bangs tied to the side using your hairclip is really, really something to behold—which is weird because that obviously doesn’t scream sexy in any way, or masculine even, but it never fails to make your stomach somersault in delight.
“Dinner is served, Milady,” he says, laying down a plate of Spaghetti Aglio e Olio in front of you, making you gawk at the sight. “And it’s special because it contains a lot of garlic—seriously, like a lot. I had to put some gloves on and everything.”
“You’re an angel.” You nearly cry and it’s not an exaggeration. “I can’t believe you did all of this for me.”
“Well, I haven’t really thanked you for covering my rent last month so…”
“It’s fine, you can pay me back later.” You take a hold of your fork, moistening your lips in anticipation, and wasting not a second longer before you dig in. When the cheese melts inside your mouth, you almost moan in joy. “Oh my God, this is so good. I love you.”
He chuckles, suddenly standing behind you, leaning forward so he’s right next to your ear. “Yeah? How much?”
You raise your silver spoon in the air and he immediately leaps to the other side of the kitchen, startled and terrified out of his mind. “Hey, that’s not cool!” He barks. “I thought we'd talked about this!”
Rolling your eyes at him, you take another spoonful of the dish. “Man, you should really make a job out of this,” you comment. He only cooks whenever he feels sorry for you for going through a hard day—whether it was because of him or something else—but if that’s what it takes to have this magnificent cuisine enter your mouth, you don’t mind suffering more often.
“I really should, huh?” He takes a seat on the kitchen counter, his legs dangling a few inches in the air. He ties his hair up in a bun like he always does, with a few strands of his baby hair falling to his temple. “I’m really running low on money.”
“I thought vampires were supposed to be rich and, like, noble.”
“You’re confusing us with Aristocrats.” He grieves. “I used to be filthy rich, actually.”
“And now, you’re like this. What happened? Did you get robbed?” You chuckle to yourself but he’s not laughing. He’s doing that thing again where he turns pensive, his lips squeezed tight as if he was trying to keep his thoughts away from morphing into words. “Sorry, that wasn’t funny.”
“It was kinda funny.” His little smile returns, albeit a bit forced and awkward. “Do you think I can get a night shift at a restaurant downtown?”
“Oh, I actually know a place. I’ll take you there tomorrow.”
“Like on a date?”
You almost drop your fork. “Why do you have to make everything weird?”
His cheeky grin is contagious but you’ve become a master of handling your expression. “I just like seeing you turn all flustered,” he confesses. “Have I told you how cute you are?”
“Today? Not yet,” you mutter as you munch on your food. “Yesterday? Approximately two hundred and thirty-five times.”
“Then I’ll try to break another record today.” He throws you a wink.
“Shut up and let me eat in peace, please.”
***
“Eren.”
“Yes, baby?”
“Stop it.”
“Stop what?”
“Stop posting a goddamn selfie every ten minutes!” You almost throw your phone to his face but since it’ll be a waste, you decide to throw your shoe instead. “I didn’t teach you how to use Instagram for this!”
Eren easily dodges every single thing you’re flinging at him. “Didn’t you tell me to promote my cooking skill? That’s exactly what I’m doing.”
“How does this—” You show your phone’s screen to him, almost smacking him in the face with how fast and hard you’re doing it. You slide your thumb over his Instagram feeds, showing more than fifty different pictures of his close-up face (and he just made that account two days ago, Jesus Christ). “—promote your cooking skill?!”
“But, look,” he guides you, clasping his hand around yours so you’re both holding your phone. He taps from one picture to another. “This is me holding a spatula. This is me boiling water and this is me pouring barbecue sauce—”
“Oh my God.” You almost yank every hair out of your head—or out of his head. “I follow more than four hundred people and all I can see on my timeline is your damn selfies!”
“Correction, my damn cute selfies.” He pecks your cheek. “You’re welcome, Princess.”
But all jokes aside, it actually works. His adorable (and hot) selfies—no matter how bad you hate to admit it—are attracting more followers each day that by the time a week has passed by, he has gained more followers than you have (and you’ve had your account for three years, shame on you).
And in the following two months, he gets his first endorsement deal.
“I can’t believe this,” you say, gaping as you stare over his shoulder to take a glimpse at his phone’s screen, shamelessly reading his direct messages. He’s getting an offer to become a brand ambassador for this little bakery that has a cover photo of a lady with chubby cheeks baking cupcakes. “I can’t believe there are people crazy enough to hire you.”
“Hey, privacy!” He immediately stands up from the couch, covering his screen with his palm. “I could’ve been sending nudes!”
“You’re sending nudes?”
“Well, not my nudes.” He rolls his eyes.
“How is that any better?!”
“Look, I’m busy. I got a gig.” He grins proudly. “I’m on my way to becoming a celebrity, babe. Do you want my autograph now before it’s too late? I could sign your bra if you want. I mean, I’m totally down if you want me to sign your tits, but if you ever think that could be awkward—”
You smack his head with a spatula.
***
“What are you doing?”
You question the vampire the second you push open your bathroom door, catching him in the middle of lifting his shirt in a slow, sensuous manner as he casts a sexy smirk at his camera. He sighs at your presence, yanking his white wifebeater back down before he picks up his phone. “I’m making a thirst trap,” he explains, not even sparing you a glance. “People have been begging me to join TikTok so I made one last week and now I’m trying to reach a thousand followers by Sunday. I only need about a hundred more.”
“By making thirst trap videos?” It’s more like a statement than a question. The disgust in your voice is apparent but he plays ignorant.
"Obviously,” Eren says, tapping his thumb against his screen. Snickering, he adds, “They call me Daddy now.”
“God.”
“I won’t call myself a God, but,” he chuckles, hurling a flirtatious wink. “If that's how you think of me, sure. Also, what do you know about OnlyFans? They want me to make one too.”
“Kill me. Just kill me now and end my suffering. Please.”
“Stop being so dramatic.” He snorts. “Hey, recommend me a song for my thirst trap. I want one that makes me look like I’m the filthiest whore in town.”
“You already look like the filthiest whore in town.”
“Aaw.” He’s flattered. He’s actually flattered. “Thanks, babe. You too.” He puckers his lips, making a kissy face. “Now, enough with the praise. Let’s go back to this. I’m thinking about using Britney’s Gimme More but—”
“Oh my God, Ren, a cockroach!” You point a finger at the marbled floor, shouting as dramatically as possible.
“FUCK—WHERE?!” The second he’s distracted—yelping like a little girl—you jump on your feet, snatching away his phone. “Hey, what are you—”
Dashing toward the front door, you shout back, “I’M BURNING DOWN YOUR PHONE!”
“WHAT—GET BACK HERE!”
***
It’s your first date night after passing nearly half a year without contacting Armin due to him going overseas for his student exchange program, and now that he’s back, you’re nervous for various reasons.
First, you haven’t told Armin you’ve been sharing a place with a guy.
Second, you certainly haven’t told him that this guy is a vampire.
Third, you absolutely in any way cannot tell him that you’ve been secretly crushing on this guy while your boyfriend was away studying.
And last but not least, you know that if anything happens tonight, whether it ends up with you fighting with Armin or finally losing your virginity to him, Eren can hear every single thing.
So you barge into his room, hand laying on the front of his bedroom door as you push it open. “Eren.”
Like always, he’s laying idly on his bed, head almost dangling on the edge of it with his smartphone in his hands. “Yes, baby?”
You sigh, rubbing your temple. “How many times should I tell you? Don’t call me that.”
“You’re not my baby anymore?” He fakes a loud gasp. “I am shocked.”
“Armin is coming over tonight.”
His movements stop abruptly. “I didn’t realize you were still with him.”
“Of course, I am. Why wouldn’t I be? He’s been nothing but sweet to me.”
His eyes lose the mischievous spark he usually displays in them. “And yet, you keep drooling over my body. Can’t say I’m not hurt.”
“I never—” You exhale loudly, throwing your head back. “I’m not going to have this conversation again. He’s coming over tonight to have dinner—”
“But you’re a shitty cook.”
“By dinner, I mean take-outs,” you admit your defeat. “Anyway, I came here to ask you a favor.”
“Princess,” he calls, turning over to his stomach so he can face you without having to see you upside down. “I know I said I wanted to make things interesting, but having a threesome with you and Armin? So suddenly like this? Don’t you think it’s gonna be a little awkward between us? I barely know the dude. You should at least tell me what kind of person he is, whether he likes action movies or romantic ones, whether he blames someone else when he farts—I need to know him before I have his dick in my mouth.”
Talking to him gives you headaches, you should’ve really come prepared. “Are you done?”
“Do you still want me to continue? Okay, well—”
“Shut up, please for the love of God, shut up.” You know you should take your leave before he starts yapping again. “Look, that super hearing thing you have? Can you turn it off just for one night?”
“Sure thing. Click,” he says, snapping his fingers near his ear. “Done. Now I’m deaf.”
You flatly stare at him. “I’m serious.”
“Whaaaaat? I can’t heaaaaar youuuu.”
“Eren!”
He groans loudly, rolling his eyes. “Well, it’s not like my ears have on-and-off buttons I can just switch, okay? What do you want from me?”
He’s right, there’s nothing you can do. “Then, can you leave the apartment for the night?”
He opens his mouth wide, hand going to his chest. “You’re kicking me out of my own apartment? This is heresy!”
“Eren, please!” Great, now you’re stomping your feet like a child. “I just really need some privacy for tonight.”
“Oh, you’re gonna get laid, aren’t you?” He raves mockingly, but his eyes are somewhat cold. “Seriously? With that guy? I think you could do so much better, Princess.”
Vexed, you jeer back, “Yeah? And who do you have in mind? You?”
You’re not sure whether it’s your words or the way you say them that makes his blood boil but his eyes suddenly turn darker, almost glowering at you. It only happens for a second or two before he switches back to his happy-go-lucky self, so you’re not sure if you even see that clearly.
“Well, it’s not my business, is it?” He casually chirps, smiling at you again although something still feels off. “Don’t worry, I won’t eavesdrop on you two. I have a lot of kinks but voyeurism isn’t one of those. You won’t even notice I’m here.”
“You…” Something feels really off with the way he’s acting. It’s like he’s visibly upset but trying to act nonchalant about it at the same time. “You’re sure?”
“You have my words.”
“Okay then.” Whatever it is, you figure you can deal with that later as you’re running out of time for your date. “Well, I’m gonna go take a shower.”
As you shut the door behind you, turmoil starts to fill your chest.
***
Your date with Armin is going well. It’s going so well, even, that you end up lying on your bed, perfectly naked, lips swollen from his kisses. He's hovering above you, both breathless and speechless at the sight of your curves, his sapphire eyes shifting from one spot of your skin to another.
And unfortunately for you, he is also clueless.
Armin has a packet of condoms in his hand, and no matter how embarrassing it is for you, you already have your legs spread on the bed, waiting for him to… well, do whatever it is he’s supposed to do. You always thought that it was okay for you to be clueless about sex because guys usually take the lead, right?
Wrong.
“Okay, wait, let me just—” Armin’s fingers are trembling due to anxiety. His poor, innocent mind cannot handle being so painfully turned on and awkwardly embarrassed at the same time. Your boyfriend has always been awkward with literally everything, which kind of makes him adorable but it does not come as cute—not in the slightest—when he’s doing the exact opposite of what he's supposed to do. Somewhere deep in his mind, he probably knows that he’s supposed to tear apart the package sexily with his teeth, put the condom on within seconds, and thrust into you as painlessly as possible. But in reality, what’s currently happening is he's trying to catch the condom that flew out in the air after he managed to tear the packet apart with his shaky fingers. He then progresses to try putting on the condom for approximately fifteen minutes while flinching several times when he accidentally slaps the elastic band against his cock.
The whole thing is a fucking disaster (no pun intended) and all the passion, desire, and arousal that you once felt swirling in your stomach vanish in an instant. And when you thought things couldn’t get any worse, it does, because being a virgin himself, Armin doesn’t really know where to, for the lack of better words, put it in.
“Armin?”
“Y-yeah?”
“That’s my asshole.”
So with a reassuring (fake) smile, you lay a hand on his chest and gently push him backward, trying not to wince in shame when you suggest, “Maybe we should stop and try again some other time?”
You two dress back into your clothes in silence and after you escort him to your front door, Armin tries to kiss you at the same time you’re leaning in for a friendly hug so it ends up with him knocking his teeth against your forehead.
When he’s gone, you close the front door with a sigh, pressing your spine against the wooden surface as you soothe the pain on your temple away with your fingertips. It doesn’t take long before Eren peeks his head from behind his door. Noticing you’re alone, he steps into the living room, leaning against the wall just a couple of meters away from where you’re standing.
“So,” he begins, acting casual with his hands neatly tucked inside the pocket of his jeans. “How was the date with—” He suddenly bursts out laughing, one hand holding his stomach as he nearly tumbles down to the floor, cackling like a mad man. “I’m sorry, I know I shouldn’t have eavesdropped but holy fuck, did he really put it in the wrong hole? Oh God, this shit is just beyond me, man.”
With your shoulders slumped forward, you walk back into your room, trying to gather back the pieces of dignity you have left.
***
“You know what I should do?” Eren asks with a game controller in his hand. To stop him from making fun of you and your terrible incident with your boyfriend, you’ve borrowed a PlayStation from your cousin. Even though he claimed that he despised technology, Eren is actually brilliant when he puts his mind to it. It doesn’t take more than two hours for him to master the game, already adapting to every button of the controller, even manages to land a few high scores in the last ten minutes. He used to prefer to live in the old school way, but that soon changed after your influence.
“Pray to God for forgiveness so He won’t send you to hell?” You offer, as you take a seat next to him on the carpeted floor, crossing your legs with your eyes staring idly at the screen.
“Cute, but no.” He clicks some buttons aggressively, trying to reach yet another high score. “I should become a historian. I mean, I’ve seen things happen with my own eyes—the first world war, the second world war, the worst of all: the birth of Donald Trump. Hell, I was even besties with Jesus at one point.” He sneaks a glance, but seeing no reaction coming from you, he juts out his lower lip in disappointment. “It’s cruel that you don’t indulge me with my jokes these days.”
“Oh, you want me to respond? I thought you just liked hearing yourself talk.”
“Heeeeeey,” he hisses, leering at you. “I know you’re hurt that your boyfriend tried to butt-fuck you but don’t throw this all on me.”
Oh my God. “Right, then let’s try this.” You have no choice but to please him this way before he destroys whatever is left of your pride. You do a quick search on your phone, throwing a random question from what you found in the article. “Who led our country in 1950?”
“Easy. The guy with the bald head. No, wait, is it the skinny one with the huge mole on his neck?”
“Name, genius. I need a name.” You exhale in exasperation.
“Oh, I got it! The one with the annoying high-pitched voice!”
“How the hell am I supposed to know?”
“Well, how the hell am I supposed to remember shits that happened seventy years ago?”
You give him a look, eyes staring at him lifelessly. “You’re right, you should totally apply for the job. You’ll nail it.”
***
“I can’t believe this.”
“Saying that multiple times won’t really change anything, Princess.”
“I can’t believe this,” you repeat, this time while standing up from the couch, slamming your fashion magazine down to the table. “I can’t believe our air conditioner broke when it’s nearly forty degrees outside! Aren’t you hot?!”
“Am I hot—” He snorts, flipping a page of his novel. Yes, it is actually quite bizarre that he spends his spare time reading. “What kind of question is that? Of course, I’m hot. Haven’t you seen the number of views my thirst trap videos got in one night?”
“Ugh, God!” You plop back into your seat, throwing your head back in vexation. “What are you even reading?”
“That vampire book you talked about the other day.”
“Which one?”
“The one that’s interesting.”
“Oh, Interview with The Vampire?”
“No.” The way he rolls his eyes as if he’s disgusted with your guess is beyond you. “Twilight.”
“Oh my God, stay away from me.”
“What—this is actually good!”
“These vampires sparkle under the sun—aren’t you, at the very least, offended? Because I’m human and I’m livid.”
“That’s what makes it interesting, actually,” he retorts, eyes moving back and forth as he reads through a passage. “They’re so different from us in real life, so it’s like seeing through a new perspective. I’m Team Jacob, by the way. I know I said I wouldn’t bang another werewolf but Jacob can, like, get it.”
“Good Lord.” You palm the side of your face. “You’re more than eight hundred years old but you have the taste of a teenage girl going through puberty. I’m ashamed of knowing you.”
“You’re just cranky because of the weather.”
“I’m literally dying.” You can feel sweat drenching your back, all the way to your shirt and you just took a shower twenty minutes ago. “You’re lucky you’re immune to temperature changes.”
“Then wanna sit on my lap?”
Your ears must be playing tricks on you. “Excuse me?”
Eren sighs, closes his book, and throws it away to the side. Turning to you, he repeats slowly, dragging out every syllable. “Do. you. want. to. sit. on. my. lap?”
You send him a blank stare, annoyed. “I heard you, asshole. I’m not an idiot. I’m just shocked at your offer. You’re really going all out in harassing me these days, huh?”
“What—” He throws his hands in the air, exasperated. “I’m a vampire, remember? I have cold skin. Here,” he takes one of your hands, sliding it down his shirt as if it’s nothing, and presses it against his stomach. “Can you feel it?”
All the blood rushes to your face, making you feel lightheaded but also conscious of how his skin feels underneath your palm. It is cold, though not as cold as he’d made a big deal out of it. It’s like the room temperature during the spring, at most. But compared to how sizzling it is right now, his skin is nice to the touch, relaxing even.
But all that thought just goes straight out of the window when he shifts on his seat and you can feel his abs muscles contracting.
“Whoa,” he stops, looking at you. “Are you okay? Your heartbeat is insane.”
You smack him on the head and try to suffocate him with your cushion. It doesn’t work since he doesn’t breathe, but at least it can stop him from seeing how flustered you are.
But when another day passes by and your landlord is still taking his sweet time trying to find a cheap handyman to repair your AC, you decide to take on his offer. You know it’s weird for roommates to cuddle but, as you try to reason within yourself, you will be sitting on the-sexiest-man-you’ve-ever-witnessed-with-your-eyes’ lap, your back pressing against his (hopefully) bare chest, and snuggle close until your body heat is no longer screaming at you in agony. You don’t really see any problem with this. After all, you have been imagining how it would feel like to sit on his lap every time he does that manspreading thing on your couch.
So, really, what’s there to lose?
“Okay,” you begin, standing in front of him in an already awkward posture. “So, how can we do this without being weird about it?”
Eren tilts his face up, leaning his back against the couch, phone in his hand. “Do what?”
“Do…” You fiddle with the hem of your shirt. “You know, what you offered me yesterday.”
“Hmm?” He raises his eyebrow in question, but the way one side of his lips curves upward betrays his act. “I forgot. What exactly did I offer you?”
“You’re seriously going to make me say this out loud?”
“Princess, I’m clueless.” His smirk grows wider, his voice dripping with allure. “Please. Enlighten me.”
He’s toying with you, that’s for sure. And no matter how much you want to feel those arms around you, there’s no way you’re gonna let him degrade you like this. “Fine, then forget it,” you sulk, turning around on your heels with your cheeks puffed out but Eren laughs in the most innocent way when he’s clearly nothing like that in reality. Calling your name in a sing-song voice, he circles his fingers around your wrist and tugs you back until you tumble down to his lap.
“You’re never honest,” he says, his velvety voice suddenly only a whisper away. His arms are tied securely around your waist, pulling you close until you can do nothing but lay your back against his chest. “But you’re cute so I forgive you.”
You can’t form a word, too busy trying to compose yourself. You can’t hear his heartbeat—since he’s the creature of the undead, obviously—but you assume with the proximity you’re being, you would’ve definitely heard it if he had one.
You didn’t notice it before but now that you’re sitting on his lap, your palm pressed against his thigh for stability, you realize that he’s wearing black ripped jeans with holes that are oh so terribly distracting. If you dare to move your finger, you’ll be able to trace the smooth skin at the inner part of his thigh.
You gulp hard.
You can hear him snickering behind you. “Thinking something dirty?”
It feels like you almost swallowed your tongue. “What—no!” Flapping your hands in panic, you almost fall from his lap but his fast reflex won’t let you. He embraces you tighter, causing you to fall back to his chest with a small oof.
“Relax, I’m just messing with you,” he chuckles lowly, his lips grazing against your earlobe. “This is nice. We should do this more often. You fit perfectly in my arms.” He says his line sincerely with no trace of humor or teasing in it, which effectively makes you curl your toes in bashfulness.
“You’re gonna have a heart attack if you keep your heart rate going like that, Princess,” he titters.
“Yeah, well,” you try to push him away by pushing your palm against his cheek. “Unlike you, I don’t spend my time snuggling with the opposite sex, so of course I’m nervous.”
“You’re sure it’s not because of me?”
“Absolutely. In fact, I’d most likely have a bigger reaction if Armin was the one holding me instead.”
The way he suddenly goes stiff intrigues you, but you don’t dwell on it. “Is that so?” He simply retorts back, his tone suddenly turns cold and it makes you feel queasy.
“So, uhh…” Your breathing tatters when he becomes mute, only the sound of the ticking clock on the wall can be heard. “Wanna watch a movie?”
He only hums, placing his chin on top of your head. Since he’s always so talkative, it gets really tense when he’s quiet. “Did I offend you or something?” You question.
“I don’t know, did you?”
“I wouldn’t have asked if I knew.”
“Then let’s just leave it at that.” Seeing how you keep fumbling with the remote in your hand, he snatches it away and proceeds to switch the channels. “We’re watching Twilight.”
“Nooooooo, not again!”
But his arm, as he raises it high in the air, is longer than yours so you can’t steal back the remote no matter how hard you try. And as you jump up and down, shifting back and forth on his lap, Eren warns, “I don’t know if you’re doing this on purpose, but if you keep doing that, I’m gonna get a hard-on.”
You immediately stay still, hands tucked neatly on your lap, chest thundering. “You—Why—” You shake your head, flushed. “How can you say things like that?”
“Things like what?”
“Sexual things like that.” The more you reveal your thoughts, the more you turn sheepish. “Don’t you have any shame?”
“What, I can’t be honest?” He snorts. “I didn’t mean to harass you or anything. Just letting you know in advance. It’s completely a guy thing.”
“No, it’s not just that. You always flirt with me—calling me baby or princess, telling me how I look cute all the time when you don’t even mean it—“
You’re interrupted with a loud sigh accompanied by an impatient groan. “Turn around. Look at me,” he orders and his tone is irrefutable. When you turn slightly, making eye contact, Eren has his eyebrows furrowed, almost glaring at you. “I know you’re gullible, and I know you’re dense when it comes to things like this but I swear to God, if you don’t start taking a hint, I’m gonna have to push you against the wall and kiss you to prove my point.”
You’re dizzy and nauseous, your stomach is flipping like crazy and you’re conflicted between believing him or laughing at him because although he looks dead serious right now, you can’t help but wonder what if, after you give in to your feelings, he sends you that signature cheeky grin of his to reveal he’s just joking all along? You’re not even brave enough to imagine, even when the vivid image of him pushing you against the wall, his knee slipping between your legs while he brings your wrists over your head and holding them still with one hand is enough to keep you awake for hours.
So you decide to take the easy path. “Okay.”
He blinks. “Okay?”
“Okay.” You shrug, acting casual. It’s a miracle that you don’t stutter when you deliver the next line. “You told me to take a hint, that’s what I’m doing.”
He raises one of his eyebrows, confused. “Just like that? You’re not gonna say anything more? Or do anything about it?”
“Nope.”
Slowly, there’s a shift in his expression. He shakes his head in amusement, tongue protruding against the inside of his cheek. “You really are something else.”
Surprisingly enough, he leaves it at that. Though it’s somehow uncomfortable, you follow his lead and just keep your eyes glued to your TV screen as he chooses his movie.
You have no interest in watching Twilight—absolutely nothing, zilch, zip, nada!—so it shouldn’t have come as a surprise when your eyelids start to become heavy in the first thirteen minutes of the show. You would’ve fallen asleep way sooner though, if you weren’t too distracted with the way he laid his hand on your thigh, sometimes unconsciously rubbing or squeezing it with his palm when he got a little bit bored with the scene, causing your breath to get hitched in your throat.
The room’s temperature is still hot even when it’s in the middle of the night, successfully making your bangs stick to your temple. But you feel relaxed as you listen to Eren quietly humming something to himself. Soft, melodious sound is resonating from his chest directly to your ear and you begin to drift away, floating into your dreamland.
***
“Hey, wake up. It’s almost morning.”
Your bleary eyes are greeted by the dim light of the room. The TV in front of you has already been switched off so the only thing that can be heard in your apartment is the buzzing sound coming from your fridge and the faint ticking clock.
“What time is it?” You rub your eyes, not aware that you’re still sitting on his lap, with your spine leaning against his chest. It’s until you feel his arms loosening around your waist that you begin to think, oh fuck, what have I done?
You immediately jump off his lap, tripping over your feet but manage to hold your balance by placing a hand on the coffee table. “Why didn’t you wake me?” You screech, face aflame. “You kept holding me in that position all night?”
“Yeah.” He stretches his arms above his head, cracking his neck. “I would've waited until you woke up by yourself, but you know, the sun is about to rise.”
You’re still pretty much flabbergasted by the whole thing. “You really should’ve woken me up.”
“Well, you seemed like you were having the best sleep you’ve ever had.” He stares at you with mischief in his eyes. “Did it feel that good being in my arms, Princess?”
You’re about to explode. “Okay, wow, look what time it is.” You try to look at your wrist and mentally slap yourself harder when you realize you’re not wearing a goddamn watch. “A-anyway, you really should go back to your room before it’s too late.”
He chuckles at your stupid antics before he stands up from the couch. Ruffling your hair once and making a mess out of your strands, he heads back to his room. As he slides open his door, he spares you a glance over his shoulder. “Hey.”
“What?”
“You kept calling my name in your sleep. What were you dreaming about?”
Whether it’s true or he’s just flirting with you to get your reaction, you don’t want to know. “Just go to your room!”
***
A few moments after the sun sinks below the horizon, Eren comes out of his room with bleary eyes and his shoulders sagging forward.
“Good morning, Princess,” you joke, your hands busy mixing coffee powder, sugar, and milk to make your own version of Dalgona coffee. Eren scratches the back of his head, his eyes are barely open as he heads to the kitchen, not even sparing you a glance. When he opens the fridge, he groans loudly, noticing that he forgot to restock his red wine. He slams the door with a loud huff, drags his body to the dining table, and sits down with his cheek pressed against the table. Seeing how you’re not paying him any attention, he groans again, louder and whinier this time.
“Okay, what?” You ask, leaning your back against the counter, a cup of coffee in your hand.
“I’m thirsty,” he grumbles, jutting out his lower lip.
“Then drink.”
“I don’t have any money left to buy even a bag of blood. Why do they have to make it so fucking expensive?” He grouses, pouting. “I mean, I can always steal one but I’m scared of being caught.”
“Scared of being caught? You, with your superhuman speed and strength?”
“Well, they have those security cameras installed all over the place! I don’t want to get arrested or worse, go viral!” You resist the temptation to roll your eyes at his nonsense. “These fucking technologies, man, I swear to God, they’ll be the death of me someday.”
“Then just go outside. Our town is filled with walking blood bags.”
He groans again, now pressing his forehead against the table. “Man, the effort I have to make just to survive. I’m so done with drinking blood from slutty girls. They’re bitter.” He sticks out his tongue in disgust at the memory.
“Yeah, why is that? Why do you only drink from them?”
“Because they’re the only ones who’ll agree in a heartbeat.” His voice is muffled as his lips are brushing against the surface. “Also the sex isn’t too bad if you can ignore how annoyingly loud they are.”
“Trust me, I’ve tried.” You grimace at the flashback. It really has been a while since he brought one of them back to his room and you were ecstatic about it, knowing you were the only girl he had been giving his attention to. “Why don’t you just compel someone to give their blood? You can erase their memories too after you’re done with them.”
“I’ve told you, I don’t like doing that. It makes me feel like a monster.”
It’s cute, you suppose, the way he tries his best to defy his nature. “Then…” You tap your fingers against the mug, somehow feeling timid. “Why don’t you try being in a relationship with someone? I’m sure they’ll be willing to give you their blood if they like you that way.”
“Yeah? With who?”
“I don’t know, like…” Your cheeks grow hot, bringing your face down to conceal your eyes with your bangs. “Maybe just someone you like.”
“Are you volunteering?”
The way he suddenly has you backed against the counter, trapping you inside his arms, and whispering seductively with his lips almost grazing your own makes you jump on your feet. Your mug slips off your fingers, crashing to pieces when it hits the marbled floor.
“Careful!” Eren holds you by the waist, stopping you just a split second away from stepping on the broken glasses. You realize your hands are fisting against the back of his shirt, embracing him for support without knowing. You pull away immediately, clearing your throat.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to surprise you,” he says, letting you go. “I mean I did, but not like this.”
You sigh. “It’s okay, just step away. I need to clean this up.” He tries to help but you won’t let him, as having him in such proximity is only going to blind your senses, unable to function properly. Even just thinking about the way his strong arm fits the curve of your waist a few seconds before already makes you lose focus that you end up cutting your finger with a shard of glass.
He catches the little surprised yelp that escapes your lips and immediately bends down to check on you. “See, this is why I told you to let me clean up instead,” he complains, carrying you to the sink and drenching your finger with running water. “Let me see.” With a hold around your wrist, you can barely do anything but let him examine your cut thoroughly. “Well, it’s not deep but it’s… still…”
Noticing how he trails off, you look up to check on his face, catching how his green eyes are now glowing a bit brighter. His lips are parted as if in awe from the way droplets of blood seep from your fingertip, trickling down to your palm.
“Eren…?”
His eyes start to change color, drifting back and forth from your face to the tear on your skin. You know where this is going but when he brings your hand closer to his lips, his tongue darting out to lick the blood off the lines of your palm, you nearly collapse to the floor.
“Eren, wait—” You hiss, cheeks reddening as you try to retract your hand but his hold is firm on your wrist. He licks his way up before he brings your fingertip inside his mouth. Eren has his eyes closed, a moan almost tumbles off his lip when the coppery taste taints his tongue. He sucks on the wound, wanting to taste more, to rip your skin apart with his teeth and—
“Eren!”
He jolts awake, his irises turning back from scarlet to viridian the second he witnesses the dread that paints your face. His fangs are drawn out but he immediately retracts them before you get a detailed look, his face flushed as he takes a step back.
“Sorry—” He looks away, rubbing his nape with shaky fingers. “I didn’t mean to—shit, I really have to go—I need to drink—” and when you blink your eyes again, he has vanished from your sight.
With your heart thundering inside your rib cages, you lean back against the kitchen counter, your legs trembling underneath your weight.
That was close. So fucking close.
There’s fear growing inside you but it’s not from the memory of him with his fangs extended like the true monster that he was. You’re not scared of him, you’re scared of yourself because you know you want him. Even when you've seen his true form, you still want him and you want him in any way possible. You want him to belong to you, to be with you, to be desperate for your touch, your blood, your presence, your everything, just as much as you are about him.
You bury your face in your palms. I am so fucked.
***
Hours turn into days and days turn into months, and before you know it, it has been a year since he moved into your apartment. The friendship that blooms between you feels nice and you want to keep it that way but it’s getting tough when he keeps on bringing random girls in skimpy dresses back to his room. You used to be furious by how loud they were being, but now you’re pretty much angry just from imagining him being with someone else. And it doesn’t even have to be sexual—just picturing him bonding with another person, even when it’s not as strong as what you two have, already aggravates you so much.
The thoughts of him keep revolving in your head no matter how hard you try to push them away. It even puts your relationship with Armin in jeopardy, as you can barely pay him any attention. It doesn’t surprise you at all when he decides to break things off, saying something cliche like, “I think we’re better off as friends,” and “It’s not you, it’s me,” which in normal circumstances will piss the hell out of you but when that happens, you simply reply with, “You’re right. Let’s be friends.” And there are no hard feelings—no feelings at all, even, which is weird considering you were only a month away from having your first anniversary with him.
Now that Armin is out of the picture, you can finally bring all of your attention back to Eren. But the more you think about it, the more you’re not sure about the whole thing. He’s a vampire, isn’t he? What future do you expect to have with him? Let’s say you date him and things go well with your relationship, and then what? He’s going to stay young with that cute, boyish look on his face and you’re gonna be all wrinkled and gross, how are you ever going to be able to stand that? What if he wants someone prettier than you? What if he gets bored?
Or maybe it’s just lust you’re feeling. You don’t love him, you’re just physically attracted to him. That’s right. Strictly physical.
And yet, as you see him dressed handsomely in a black button-down shirt with his sleeves rolled up to his elbows—him running a hand through his thick, luscious hair as he ties it up to showcase his temple, your mind screams: fuck.
And when he smiles at you, placing a plate filled with the exact dish he knows you love down to the dining table while saying, “I went ahead and did some research about you. I was about to buy you some presents but I thought it would feel more personal if I cooked something for you so,” and stopping to gaze at you with tender eyes before he adds, “Happy birthday, Princess.” You think to yourself: Jesus fucking Christ, just marry me already.
Eren goes all the way with everything, from placing scented candles on the table, playing soft music in the background, even escorting you to your seat, pulling your chair back for you, and setting down a napkin on your lap. It’s too much for your poor brain to comprehend, and your chest is suffocating from all the feelings swirling behind it. Eren looks so beautiful—almost goddamn ethereal, even—in that shirt and those black khaki pants, sporting that sexy man bun. It almost feels unreal to have someone like him standing before you in the dim light of your apartment. He looks like he belongs in one of those romantic renaissance paintings that they display in the museum.
“You’re not hungry?” He asks when a few seconds have passed by and you haven’t munched at your food like a caveman (because that’s what you usually do).
“I’m—you—” You splutter, taking a deep breath to calm your nerves before you try again. “You look nice.”
You can already tell that he’s about to say something along the line of “But, baby, I always look nice.” So when he just softly smiles back and thanks you about it, telling you how you look just as nice when you know you look like a storm just hit you, you’re pretty much lost for words.
“You seem exhausted,” he comments, frowning in concern. “Hard day at work?”
You can’t trust yourself that you won’t start rambling nonsense again while answering his question so you decide to just reply to him with a feeble nod.
“Why are you so nervous?” He laughs, eyes turning into a beautiful pair of crescents. “Your heartbeat is going through the roof again.”
You loathe yourself for being so transparent. “I’m nervous because you’re suddenly being so nice to me. I can’t help but think you have a hidden agenda or something.” That’s a lie. A complete lie.
And you’re sure he knows it too. “And what if I do?” He challenges, raising an eyebrow seductively. “What kind of a hidden agenda do you think I have for you?”
Why is it so fucking hot in here?! “I don’t know…” You start fiddling with the fingers you have placed on your lap. “Drinking my blood, maybe?”
His expression is a mystery to you, even when his smirk seems familiar. “And would you be okay if that’s true?”
You can’t answer but fortunately for you, Eren lets out a chuckle, telling you that he was simply making a joke. You force yourself to laugh but it sounds like a wheeze so you stop before it gets even more humiliating.
Eren walks to your seat with a bottle of wine in his hands, sliding down the glass to your side as he smoothly offers, “Wine, Milady? It’s not blood, I swear.” And you believe him because this time, the liquid seems more ruby than crimson.
“You really need to relax.” Eren leans his back against the edge of the table, raising the glass of his usual red wine in the air before he clanks it gently against yours. “To the cutest, sweetest roommate in the world.”
You immediately take a sip to hide the flush that blooms on your face, flinching when the burning, mildly bitter flavor hits your tongue. You’ve never drunk any alcohol in your life and although this first experience feels rather unpleasant, you keep chugging more of it down your system.
“Does it taste good?” He questions, secretly smiling to himself as he witnesses how fast you’re drinking the whole glass down. You shake your head in response, which earns another laugh from him.
You’re not sure whether it’s because it’s your first time drinking alcohol or you just have a low tolerance when it comes to it, but you can feel yourself getting both lightheaded and drowsy not long after. Eren, who takes notice of that, moves you to the couch so you can rest more comfortably. “I better take this away,” he tells you, circling his lean fingers around your wine glass but you stop him.
“No,” you say, eyes a little bit unfocused as you push him away. “I’m fine. Pour me some more.”
“Don’t you think it’s enough?”
“Just another glass, Jaeger, don’t be a bitch about it.”
Your words stun him for a second before he chuckles. “Damn. All right, just don’t blame me for it,” he states as he pours you another one.
“I have a question for you,” you coo as he takes a seat on the coffee table, facing you. “What were you like in the past?”
He freezes, taken aback but collects his composure within seconds. “Why the sudden interest?”
“No reason. It’s just you’ve never really told me about yourself.”
“I thought I’ve told you enough. I even told you about my dick size.”
“Which I never asked.”
“But you were curious.”
You try your best not to get sidetracked. “When I asked you about mind compulsion,” you slur out your words. The alcohol in your system makes you feel brazen. “You looked like you’ve done something in the past. Something… awful.”
You don’t notice the way his hold around his glass tightens at your guess. “Well, they don’t call me a monster for no reason,” he keeps his voice light even when he feels something churning inside his chest. “I did something, yes, but… I promise you I won’t do that again.”
You can sense it again. That feeling where he seems like he wants to say everything but he’s too scared to do so. Reaching out to pat his hand, you assure him, “Eren, you know I won’t judge, right? What you did in the past wouldn’t change the way I think about you.”
His smile is melancholic, eyes dull with sadness. “I just don’t want you to be afraid of me.”
“Afraid of you?” You tease him. “Ren, you’re a six feet tall vampire who’s afraid of cockroaches and makes thirst trap videos as a hobby. There’s literally no way I could be scared of you.”
Your laughter is a delightful symphony in his ear but for the first time, he doesn’t have the energy to mirror you. Your laughter subsides at his reaction, and you slide your fingers past his wrist to tangle around him. “You don’t have to keep everything to yourself,” you utter. “Eren, if you’re in pain, tell me. If you need help, let me know. If you want someone to listen to you, I would love to do so. And if you want someone to accept you for who you are—for who you truly are—not just a vampire but also the person you were before, I will be that for you.” You disentangle your hand from him just to brush a stray lock that falls out of his bun, tucking it behind his ear. “You’re not alone, okay?”
Eren watches you in silence, his lips parted but his tongue can’t shape the words, not when you’re smiling so delicately like this. There’s gratitude welling up inside him, as well as joy and the affection he holds for you, but there’s also fear. What he did in the past was… something he was sure you weren’t ready to hear. He’s afraid that your thoughts about him would change despite your promise. He wants to tell you the truth. He’s dying for you to know every part of him and the past he’s been trying to hide, but… He’s terrified.
He chews on his lower lip, contemplating. “Would you… believe me if I told you I was a prince?”
You blink. “You were?”If you weren’t intoxicated, you would’ve laughed.
“Yeah. Seems very unlikely, doesn’t it, with the way I’m behaving now?” He chuckled sheepishly. “But I was, eight hundred years ago. Before I was turned into… this.” He casts his gaze downward, looking at his palm and remembering the first night where he had warm blood staining his hands and his own fangs puncturing his lip. “I came from a place called Paradis. We were the strongest kingdom on the continent for decades, ruling over four others. I was their second prince.” He’s better at concealing his emotions this time, and with alcohol fogging your thoughts, you fail to notice the way he has his other hand clenching into a fist, his nails digging hard enough to leave marks on his palm. “It’s a boring story, though,” he says, playfully bumping his shoulder against yours. “I don’t want to put you to sleep. We still have a birthday to celebrate.”
“I wish to know more, actually,” you chuckle, swirling your wine inside your glass before you take a sip. “Eren Jaeger, The Second Prince of Paradis. Has a nice ring to it. Did people announce your title like that when you stepped into the room?”
Eren’s eyes widen as the ghosts from his past come alive in his head. Those voices he’s been trying to silence, those faces he’s been trying to forget, they’re all revived at once.
Look at him. Eren Jaeger, The Devil of Paradis.
A disgrace. A filthy half-blood. He should’ve died, just like that witch.
No. We should kill him.
“Yeah,” Eren swallows. “Yeah, they called me like that all the time.” He brings the tip of his glass to his lips, gulping down a thick amount of blood to distract himself.
Oblivious to what he’s feeling, you move toward another topic. “Does everyone’s blood taste the same to you?”
“It differs,” he answers. “But only faintly. I’m not that picky about it.”
“And how does it feel having your blood sucked by a vampire?”
“You’re asking the wrong guy.” He sways his head from side to side, chuckling lightly. “I mean, of course, I can have my blood drunk by another vampire but I’m not that kinky. I know some vampires who are into that kind of shit though.”
“Well, by the sound of your girls screaming like they were giving birth, it’s either very painful or very…” The sight of him staring at you intently, taking in your features, nearly throws you off tracks. “Pleasurable.”
There’s an awkward pause and silence hangs around to fill the space. The voices inside his head gradually turn into whispers, drowned by the curiosity that builds up within him. You’re being transparent, every emotion, every desire you usually kept hidden is now showing vividly on your face. He doesn’t intend to be cruel, but if this serves as a chance for him to know how you truly feel about him, then he will take advantage of it. “How come you’re asking me these questions?” He asks.
“Because that’s all I’ve been thinking about,” you confess, feeling braver with each second passing by. “And it’s not just about you drinking my blood, but more about you entirely. You know what I mean?”
Eren places his glass down on the table, leaning towards you. If his heart was beating, it would be pounding right now. “Not sure, but I’m all ears.”
“I… just…” It’s getting harder to speak when he’s so close, you can start locating every tiny mole he has on his face and his neck. The small one near his Adam’s apple is the one that distracts you the most. “I just think we’re compatible with each other, you know? And I’ve never enjoyed someone’s company this much before. You’re funny, you’re smart, and you’re both endearing and so freaking annoying at the same time—how is that possible?”
But Eren isn’t laughing. His eyes are deep and dark, raking over your profiles with so much intensity but when he swats the bangs out of your eyes, his touch is tender. “What else? Tell me more.”
You lean closer to his touch like how a kitten would, making him gulp slightly at the sight. “I get so vexed whenever you spend your time with someone else. I know I have no right to be jealous since we’re just friends but I can’t help it.” You exhale, rubbing the side of your face with your palm. “It’s so fucking tiring to think about you this much when I can’t have you.”
You’re so lost in your own thoughts that when Eren reaches out a hand to touch your face, you jump in surprise, spilling wine all over your blouse. “Shit, this is my favorite shirt,” you whine, hastily settling down your glass on the table. “Can you get me some tissues?”
But what he does is lift your body with both of his arms and carry you to the bathroom. You cling onto him with a yelp, trying to keep yourself away from falling even though you’re sure he’s perfectly able to hold your weight.
Eren places you down on the bathroom counter, your fingers gripping at the edge of your sink. Sitting up straight, you begin to feel conscious of your surroundings. “What are you doing?”
“It’s your favorite shirt, right? We need to wash the stain before it sticks,” He explains, his fingers going to your collar. You nearly stop breathing when he asks for permission to undress you, “May I?”
You swallow the lump in your throat before you offer him a weak nod. “Yes.”
He takes time unbuttoning your shirt one by one when you know he can rip it apart easily with one finger. He’s so gentle, his touches are paper-thin but whenever his icy fingertips make slight contact with your skin, it sends electricity to every inch of your body.
When he manages to untangle the clothing from your body, you’re only left in your bra and your white satin lace cami top. You can tell he tries to be polite by not staring at your exposed skin, and instead, focusing on fixing your blouse. He drags it over to the sink, drenching it with water.
“Where did you place the detergent again?” He asks, reaching up over your head to check on the top cabinet and he’s so fucking close that you can see the movement of his Adam’s apple as he speaks. And it’s really, really tempting to just lean over and—
Eren flinches when he feels you sinking your face in the crook of his neck, mapping your lips on his skin and breathing in his scent. You don’t know what vampires usually smell like but Eren reminds you of summer even when you’re not sure what summer smells like. It’s funny how you’re not making sense, even in your own thoughts.
Pushing you away by the shoulders, Eren’s eyes gleam in a way you’ve never seen before. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I…” You can’t form a word—you can’t even form a thought as you’re too busy staring at his lips, musing over how smooth they look, how thrilling they must feel against your own. And perhaps he’s thinking the same thing about yours too because when you lean in for a taste, he meets you halfway.
The kiss feels warm and it doesn’t make any sense, because the rest of his body is icy cold but as you press your mouth against his, all you can think about is how his lips are hot and soft, so fucking soft and delightful and maybe it’s just your mind playing tricks on you but you don’t care.
You breathe heavily through your nose, yanking at the collar of his shirt so he’s closer to you than he’s ever been. You tilt your head slightly, angling your face so you can meld your lips deeper against his. He instinctively reacts by holding the side of your face, his fingers slipping between your strands, his tips curling around your nape.
He kisses better than any man you’ve ever been with and you’re sure he’s better than any man you’ll ever date in the future. Eren knows what he’s doing. Even when he’s caught by surprise, his lips are dancing against yours so sensually that they leave you melting in his arms.
Sliding your hand up to his chest, you can tell how his skin stands in contrast to the warmth of his mouth and it makes you shiver. Your breathing rags as you moan into his mouth, letting him taste the alcohol that lingers inside yours. You trace your tongue along the puncture of his fang that’s still retracted, almost as normal as a human’s but something inside you tells you it’s not going to stay that long if you continue with this. Anticipation builds up fast inside you. There’s absolutely no way you’re going to stop what you’re doing.
But Eren is surprisingly more chivalrous than he looks. He pulls away, giving you a few inches of space to break the attraction. It’s not enough, your mind is still heavily clouded by the thoughts of him, so you reach up to kiss him again, catching his lower lip between yours.
“No, wait,” he vocalizes, his voice sounding breathy even when his lungs no longer function in the way they used to. He circles his fingers around your wrists, holding them down against the counter so you won’t be able to move.
“Let me just kiss you,” you plead, eyes dazed and desperate. “Please.”
His chuckles are soft, almost inaudible. “You’re drunk.”
“I’m not, I swear.” It’s horribly embarrassing how much you crave his touch as if losing physical contact with him causes you madness. “Hold up your fingers and ask me to count them. I’ll guess it right, trust me, so can you just—” You try to move your hand to pull him close but his grip around your wrist is stronger than your strength. “Eren—”
“Look, I want this just as much as you do—” He cuts his line short and continues it sharply with a groan when he feels your knee sliding between his legs, giving him the friction that he needs. “Fuck. I probably want this more than you do, but—” He loses control for a split second, re-attaching his mouth to yours with so much fervor, tongues desperate to taste one another. The way you whimper against him makes him groan, his hand gliding down your thigh and spreading your legs apart so he can fit himself between them.
It’s when his fangs suddenly puncture your lips, drawing a hint of blood and making you cry out in surprise that he wakes up from his reverie. He pushes himself away immediately to the other side of the room. You almost topple forward from suddenly losing his body to lean on, only managing to keep your balance at the last second by gripping at the edge of the counter.
Eren turns around, facing the bathroom tiles as he leans one hand against the wall while his other one covers his mouth. He curses under his breath, loathing how he nearly lets the monster inside of him take control of his body.
“Eren?”
“Sorry, let me just—“ His shoulders are shaking, trying his best to soothe the thirst that overwhelmed him earlier. His canines feel burning. “They’ll go back in a minute.”
“No.” You jump down from the counter, moving to his spot with careful steps. “Let me see them.”
He shakes his head, unable to find the courage to face you. “Stay away.”
“I want to see them.” You place your hand on his shoulder, caressing him gently until he finally submits to your touch.
You only ever saw him with his fangs retracted twice in your life but even then, it was always too dark and too fast for you to see him properly. But now… Now you can take your time.
God, he’s gorgeous.
His eyes, as they peer into you in concern and the uncertainty that he might hurt you, are radiant, glowing like ambers in the dark of the night. But instead of jade green, they shine luminously in crimson, so strikingly beautiful that you can barely look at anywhere else. His fangs are now twice their usual size but he can still hide them behind his lips if needed. It’s the way they become frighteningly sharp that sends a shiver down your spine but you brave yourself enough to reach out to him.
“Can I… touch them?” You hesitantly ask. Eren looks conflicted by the question but soon gives you a timid nod. He parts his mouth slightly so you can trace your fingertip along his cuspid. It feels like a knife splitting your skin, making you flinch in surprise.
He hastily pulls back, terrified at the thought of hurting you. “S-sorry—”
“Do it with me.”
“What?”
You take a deep breath, your heart rate soaring. “I want you to drink from me.”
“You’re being insane—”
“Please.” You lay a hand on his chest, inclining your head and pushing back your hair to expose more skin of your throat. He feasts on the sight of the pulsating vein that paints the side of your neck, his blood boiling with need. “Just try, Eren…”
The glimmer in his eyes shows that he’s yearning to fulfill your wish but he cups your cheek again, fighting back his raging desire to consume you. “You’re sure about this?”
“Yes.”
“You’re gonna regret this in the morning.”
“I won’t.” Your fingers find home in his waves, pacifying him with your tender touch. “I’ve been wanting this for a long time and—”
A high-pitched yelp that flees from your lips cuts your sentence short and you have to muffle the rest of your scream by mouthing against the fabric that covers his shoulder. Eren doesn’t waste any second after he hears your confession. His canines are prickling against the skin under your jaw, just between the earlobe and the collarbone. It hurts when he sinks them—so, so badly—that tears begin to form almost instantly behind your closed lids.
Eren suddenly lets you go, his ruby eyes widening as he gazes at the way blood is gushing through his bite mark. “Fuck,” he says, “How can you taste so—” and he dives in again, moaning rather loudly when the warmth of your blood fills his mouth, swallowing a big gulp each time. “So fucking good,” he murmurs in pleasure, tightening his hold desperately around your waist as if you’re the thread that keeps him alive.
“Wait—Ah!” You’re being pushed back, your body squeezed between the tiles and the muscles of his chest. The key-shaped pendant he wears above his heart is digging into your skin. He lands one hand against the wall as he sinks his face deeper in the crook of your neck. You fall weak, your fingers fisting the back of his shirt, twisting and pulling until the fabric slides off his shoulders.
The pain only stays for a few seconds before a rush of endorphin seeps into your skin, running through your veins and pumping euphoria to every inch of your body. You begin to relax, eyes becoming half-lidded as you go into a trance, your heartbeat slowing down. You’ve never done any methamphetamine in your life but you imagine that it must feel somewhat like this.
“Eren…” You breathe out, feeling a little bit lightheaded. The strap of your camisole is falling off your shoulder while his shirt is pooling around his elbows. You can feel your knees slowly giving out under your weight and you claw against his back, your fingers gliding against the muscles underneath his shoulder blades as you try to maintain your balance. “Eren, I… I can’t stand…”
He breaks away only to haul you up so you can wrap your legs around his waist, and wind your arms around his neck. He carries you back to the bathroom counter, placing you down on the same spot as before, your legs dangling in the air.
“Better?” He rubs comforting circles with his thumb along your cheekbone, analyzing your expression. You nod, your gaze going down to focus on his fangs again. Your blood paints his lips. Some of it trickles down his chin. He’s a monster, he truly is, but his eyes, though they are now scarlet and flickering like torches, are tender and patient.
He slides his hand down to the hem of your camisole, fingers rubbing against the fabric as he peppers soft kisses along your jawline. “Is this one your favorite too?”
“Huh?” You’re having the hardest time trying to focus. “Oh… No, not really.”
“Well, then,” his lips are still sucking bruises on your neck when he rips both of your camisole and your bra with one flick of his hand, exposing your bare chest to the cold air.
Jolting in surprise, you squeak out his name but you’re silenced with another kiss, one that is so consuming, so deep, so wild that you nearly sob against his mouth. The taste of copper makes you frown in discomfort but the knot starts to loosen when his tongue darts out to meet you in a messy kiss.
His hand goes down to your breast, cupping the side while he runs his thumb along your sensitive bud. You rake your nails against his back in response, aching for more. His other hand is tracing the curve of your waist, going down to your hips before he tears your skirt away. He tosses the clothing somewhere across the room, following your previous ones.
“Tell me if you want to stop,” he reminds you, hooking his hands at the back of your knees before he pulls your legs forward. Pressing his hardness against the wetness of your lingerie, you both let out a whine.
“Fuck,” he hisses. “Want you so bad, Princess.”
“Me too,” you keen, circling your legs around his waist for stability. “Don’t stop, please,” you murmur against his ear, robbing a low groan from the back of his throat.
It’s unfair that he’s still fully clothed while you’re almost nude. You tug on his shirt and Eren helps you toss it to the floor. You roam your lips to every inch of his bare skin, your lipstick staining the front of his chiseled chest before you mouth against his shoulder.
Eren licks along the wound of his previous bite, emitting a sinful moan when your blood sparks ecstasy in his mouth. His fingers are tentatively rubbing you over your lingerie and you beg with your lips muffled by the skin that covers his collarbone. “Take it off. Just take it off, please—“
You can feel a tiny laugh reverberating from his chest from how desperate you’re being but you don’t care. You really are that desperate.
Eren is more than willing to comply, sliding your lingerie down your thighs and you help him push it off your legs completely. You guide his palm to your heat, breathing out his name in a soft moan when his fingers promptly slide between your folds, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit. His mouth finds its way down the valley of your breasts and he goes lower and lower until he has his head between your legs.
You nibble at your lip in anticipation when he presses open-mouthed kisses on the inner part of your thigh. Eren makes sure he has his eyes fixed on yours when he dips his fangs into your supple skin, making you quiver with the sensation. The second bite isn’t as shocking as before and you’re so aroused by the little mmm that escapes him. He drinks from your thigh, his tongue flicking over the wound before he sinks his teeth again, maintaining his gaze on yours all the while. “Sweet…” His moans are so sexy and obscene, you feel like you can listen to them forever. “You taste so fucking sweet, Princess.”
“God, Eren.” You’re going insane, you can feel it. “I want you. I want you in me. I want you all over me.”
And he probably is too because he’s abandoning all of his self-control at once. The way he sucks bruises on your skin, lapping at the trail of blood that painted your body is almost animalistic, raw passion mixed with lust and uncontrollable desire. He drags his mouth to your center, tongue darting out to lap at your folds this time. Your hand goes straight to his head, slipping your fingers between the strands before you tug on his bun. He grunts a little when he feels you yanking at his roots, his hair tie sliding off until his strands fall loose, brushing against his shoulders.
You rock your hips against his mouth, his eyes glowing even brighter, filled with lust. He retracts his fangs just so he can suckle on your clit, abusing the same spot with his expert tongue. You taste even sweeter than your blood, intoxicating him to his bones.
“Come back to me,” you plead. “I need you.”
He returns to his feet and unbuckles his belt in a hurry, his mouth finding purchase on yours again. He pushes his jeans and briefs down just low enough to release himself from his confinement. You can feel his tip grazing against your clit before he glides his length down your folds, pulling you by the legs so you’re almost lying down on the counter with your upper back pressed against the mirror behind you.
His eyes are hooded but they speak reassurance when they bore into yours. “I’ll be gentle.”
Now that it finally sinks you’re going to do this for the first time, your lustful desire quickly changes into jitters. You nod, permitting him to proceed.
The feeling of him stretching you little by little is excruciating and he can tell that too, hissing, “Fuck, you’re so tight,” as his eyebrows adjoin in the middle. Unable to handle the pain, you reach out a hand to stop him but he grabs your wrist and plunges his teeth into your skin.
Another jolt of pain sends tremors all over your body before the rush of endorphin hits you like a wave, gradually reducing your pain until you’re in haze again, blissful even, but also even more aroused than before.
“You’re okay?” He licks the blood that trails down your arm before he presses a lingering kiss against your veins. “Are you still in pain?”
You’re breathing hard but you can feel your heartbeat slowing. “No. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” He brushes his smile against your forehead before he returns to position. “Let’s start slow, okay?”
“No…” You push your body forward, tangling your arms around his neck. “Don’t hold back.” You lean close to his ear, kissing his shell once before you whisper, “I want you to fuck me, Ren.”
His grip on your thigh tightens, his mouth colliding with yours in a frantic kiss. “I’m gonna move,” Eren gives his final warning before he rams his hips forward, filling you up so deep, you swear you can feel him in your stomach.
Even when he said he was going to be gentle with you, he’s doing the exact opposite. Or maybe he is going gentle, which only makes you wonder how wild he can be once he stops caring about your safety. The thought of him losing control of his mind as he pounds into you senselessly makes you shudder, your walls closing hard around his length.
“My God.” The feeling of your heat enveloping him—squeezing around him—makes him drop his temple on your shoulder, dissolving him into a groaning mess. “You are driving me insane, do you know that?”
“I can take it.” You hold his face, caressing his sharp jawline with trembling fingers. “It’s not painful anymore, so please, just… Do whatever you want with me.”
“But I’ll break you.” Although his eyes speak like he wants nothing but to grant your wish.
You let your tongue slide up from his chin to his lower lip, stopping just to whisper, “Then break me apart, I don’t care,” before you crash his mouth with yours again.
Eren’s thrust is both deep and hard, knocking your breath with each drive of his hips as he holds you by your waist, nails clawing into the skin. Maybe it’s because there’s still a trace of endorphin in your body that heightens all your senses and washes all your pain away because everything feels so unbelievably good. His touches, his kisses, his thrusts, and the way he moves his hips faster and faster until you can’t properly breathe—everything feels amazing.
And his voice—God, his voice—the way he moans and grunts against your ear, or when he sprouts expletives while he buries his face deep in the crook of your neck, lips scorching hot against your skin, makes you think fuck, why did I waste a fucking year doing nothing when I can have him like—
You’re interrupted from finishing your thought when Eren suddenly pulls out of you, making you whimper from the loss. He turns you around, forcing you to land on your feet again with your stomach pressed against the edge of the counter. You place both hands on the marbled surface as he pulls your hips closer to him, pressing his hardness against your behind as he glues his chest to your spine.
“Come here, look,” he says, holding you by the jaws and elevating your face just enough so you can gaze directly into the mirror. He shifts his hand, now holding back your bangs so your eyes are reflected perfectly. “Look how beautiful you are,” he purrs right next to your ear, the tip of his nose brushing against your jawline.
It’s both embarrassing and arousing to see yourself being held domineeringly by him, the curves of your body fit his perfectly even from behind. Your lips are bruised and swollen, blood smears messily around your neck, your wrist, your thigh even on your hips from the way he trailed his coated fingers along the skin.
Eren raises two of his blood-smeared fingers to your lips, mixing your lipstick with your own blood before he slowly drags his fingers away, painting blurred lines of crimson on your cheek. He sighs at the sight, eyes half-lidded as they glow brighter. “If I’m a monster,” he says, voice low and breathy, “Then you’re a fucking goddess.”
You shiver as you avert your gaze, ashamed of how sultry you look in the mirror and how sinful his gaze is as they rake over your body. He presses close, completing the dip of your spine with his chest like a matching puzzle. His fingers curl around the front of your neck, forcing you to look at your reflection once more as he licks a stripe up your wound. “We look good together, don’t you think?”
You’re panting hard, chest heaving up and down with each breath you take. “Eren…” You long for him to fill you again like before. “Please, just—"
He glides his hand down between your legs, teasing your cunt with small touches but strong and fast enough to make you quiver. “So sensitive too,” he chuckles, nipping slightly at your earlobe. “You’re so fucking cute.”
Before you can retort anything back, he pushes the head of his cock into your heat again, agonizingly slowly at first but slams the rest of it with one snap of his hips.
“I’ve thought about this—about us. I’ve been thinking about you so much, it scares me,” he confesses, with low groans interrupting his lines. He thrusts steadily into you, his cock rubbing deliciously against your walls. “You’re driving me crazy with that face of yours. Your lips, your voice—whenever you call my name, whenever you pout after losing an argument—the way you secretly stare at me wherever I go—ah, fuck—”
“I don’t—” You gasp, thighs trembling under your weight. He wraps an arm along your stomach, holding you still while he pushes in deeper. “I never—”
“And the way you lie just like now,” He chuckles, kissing the middle of your shoulder blades. “Fuck, you’re so cute—so fucking cute that it pisses me off whenever you talk about Armin when we both know he can’t satisfy you the way I do—he doesn’t understand you—doesn’t get your stupid jokes—” He begins to fall out of rhythm, hips moving faster with each thrust. “He doesn’t deserve you—I deserve you.”
You catch the sight of your reflection, noticing how he sometimes throws his head back in pleasure, his strong hands gripping the sides of your waist as he rolls his hips, again and again, thrusting into you until you can only cry out his name and nothing more. It’s too obscene, too erotic for your eyes to witness, and when he locks his gaze with yours in the mirror, you nearly faint.
“E-Eren—” You reach out a hand behind you, trying to find him for support but he holds your wrist against your spine, pumping into you with strong strokes. He leaves you with no option but to press the side of your face against the marble countertop, your mouth parting in a silent scream.
The sounds of his groans and your whimpers echo through the bathroom walls, along with the sound of your skin slapping against his. His teeth prickling against your shoulder, his eyes drifting back to the mirror to see how you look underneath him. He sinks his fangs deep into you one more time, making various sounds of pleasure as he drinks your blood.
“Ren—”
“Cum,” he orders, growling against your skin. “Come on, baby, I need you to cum on my cock." The sensation of his thrust, his fingers slightly choking you as he holds you by your neck, and the amount of endorphin that washes over you soon drives you to your release. You mewl out his name, clenching tightly around him. "Mmm, yeah, fuck, just like that—" Eren lets out a guttural moan with his head thrown back in pleasure. He's not giving you a chance to ride your orgasm slowly as he continues ramming his length into you. "Perfect. You're so fucking perfect, Princess. Feel so good around my cock—”
A train of expletives tumbles from his mouth as he embraces you closer, feeling every shake that you emit directly with his body. You’re not sure if it’s from the loss of blood or everything else combined, but your vision starts to blur and suddenly your world turns black.
***
When you wake up, you’re lying down on your bed, staring at the ceiling you’ve seen a million times with your eyes barely open. You’re still pretty much in a haze, not sure if you’re still floating inside your dream or you’ve returned to reality. It’s until your door opens with a click that you can start to differentiate.
“Ah, you’re awake.” He peeks inside through the door holding your favorite mug, already dressed back in his favorite black tee and matching jeans. “I was wondering when you’d wake up. Can I come in?”
He walks in without needing an answer and, weirdly, he doesn’t seem nervous or awkward. Unlike you whose blood is rushing fast to your face, your heart thrashing wildly inside your rib cages. A flashback comes in like an unstoppable train and you almost reach out a hand to your neck, wanting to know if his bite marks are still there.
The way he acts is so natural that you begin to wonder whether all that happened was simply your imagination. But when you try to move your body, jolts of pain run like electricity to your bones, and you freeze. It feels like somebody is trying to crack your head open, tearing your body apart. You fall back to the bed, weak and enervated.
“You all right?” He immediately rushes to your side, sitting on the edge of the bed before he gathers your face in his hands. He observes you closely, looking for signs of discomfort. “Be careful, okay? You lost a lot of blood, so I wouldn’t move too much if I were you. I brought you some coconut water. Here,” he places the mug down on your nightstand. “And some supplements too. They’ll help with your blood loss. I’ll cook some fish and eggs for dinner later.”
You can only nod, too tired to even speak. His eyes begin to soften, his fingers reaching out to caress the strands of your hair. “I guess I went a bit overboard, I’m sorry.”
“A bit…?” You croak out.
“I’m sorry,” he repeats, unable to stop a smile from forming on his face. “I tried so hard not to but you were so cute.” He leans closer, his lips hovering above yours but he rethinks his decision before he closes the gap. He moves to bestow a gentle kiss on your forehead instead. “You should go back to sleep,” he murmurs against your skin. “Call me when you need help. I’ll be right outside.”
He doesn’t spare you a glance as he stands up from the bed, but the way he trips on his feet once makes you realize that oh, maybe he’s embarrassed about all of this too.
“Eren.”
He stops in his tracks, glancing over his shoulder as he lays a hand on your doorframe. “Yeah?”
“Where does this leave us?”
His face turns stern. Spinning over to face you, he questions further. “What do you mean?”
“I mean,” you pause, wetting your lip in anxiety. “Do you want us to pretend it didn’t happen?”
His eyes darken, seemingly upset. “Do you?”
“I… Uhh…” Your heart is beating so fast that you feel nauseous. “I don’t, but—”
“Then don’t suggest something like that,” he sighs, walking back to your bed again. He kneels on the floor so you’re eye-to-eye, squeezing your hand with his larger one. “Don’t scare me, okay? I finally have you where I want you.”
You look away, attempting to hide your flustered face. “But then, what are we now?”
“I don’t care what we are. I just want us to keep doing this.”
“Doing what, having sex? Drinking my blood?”
“No, idiot.” He rolls his eyes. “I mean, yes, of course, that too. Plenty of that. But what I meant was I want to continue to have this kind of relationship with you. Just the two of us living together, making fun of each other, or spending hours watching re-runs of your stupid TV shows.”
“They’re not stupid.”
“They’re stupid. I only watch them because of you. You are my favorite show.” He winks to break the tension and you blurt out laughing, shoving him playfully by the shoulder. But when your giggle starts to fade, Eren leans in to cup your cheek, smiling softly. “I just want to spend more time with you, as long as you’d let me. So can we have that? Please?”
“I…” You’re so captivated by his features. The perfect shape of his lips is the one that steals your attention away. “I guess…”
“You guess?” He scrunches up his nose cutely like a child. “You’re playing hard to get again? Really? After all the begging you did in the bathroom?” Seeing you turn flustered only makes him want to tease you even harder. “What was it that you said? God, Eren, I want you. I want you in me. I want you all over me—“
“Okay, shut up, geez!” You slap a hand against his mouth, steam practically coming out of your ears. “Yes, we can have that. I’d… love to have that actually.”
Kissing your inner palm, he lovingly smiles against your skin, appreciating your honesty. “That wasn’t so hard, was it, Princess?”
***
A/N:
There will be a prequel for this fic, called BEFORE DAWN, which will flesh out more details on Eren's background story when he was a royalty 845 years ago. It will be a tragic love story between a prince and his servant, and how he ended up being turned into a monster at the end.
Click here if you want to be added to my taglist!
If you haven't read the other story I made for Vampire Eren called MIDNIGHT BITE, you can check it out here.
SUPER MASSIVE THANKS to Nokky and Sandra for being my first readers. I love you girls so soooo much ❤️❤️❤️
Also, this is a rewrite of my old NCT fic called Love Bites so if it feels familiar, you know why hehe
Tagging:
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eldritch-spouse · 9 months
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Pinnie if I was admin and Krulu was saying the things he does in your fics, like "I only made you as irresistible as you deserve to be" I would cry so often. Praise from a literal God? I would be so unbelievably honoured throughout the entirety of my work at the clergy that I would break into tears at random and EVERYONE would get annoyed having to deal with it at some point lmao
Krulu can definitely weave beautiful words for someone who deserves his attention.
Yes, he'll always be moderately suffocating and demand more of you than anyone else, because your role is so important on so many levels- But that responsibility, as well as your dedication to please is met with ample rewards and moments of honesty.
This honesty has its own poetic flair, wherein "I love you"s are rare, things such as the quote you referenced are fairly common. He's got a way with wording when he's in good moods or very wanton for you. Living with Krulu means you'll eventually be able to understand when he's desperate for you, it shows in-between the lines. And really, when you're coveted by a deity, your self-esteem could never swell higher.
Krulu's very endeared if you burst into joyful/sentimental tears over it. You may even feel the surge of affectionate feelings from his part.
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thewritingginger · 1 year
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I have no other reasoning for choosing Ares for this other than he just seems the type to like talking down to his partner and living his best Dom life :)
Also this is the last of my 2022 Kinktober posts!  Thank you so much for your patience :3
P.s. Poorly edited, mind mistakes
Fandom: Blood of Zeus Pairing: Ares x Fem! Human Reader Word count: 2.1k+ words Warnings: 18+, Dub-con, God / Human relationship, Rough sex, Master kink, Degrading (use of whore), Belittling, Bondage (chains, flog) , Vaginal fingering, Vaginal sex, Breeding kink, Spanking, Hair pulling, Slight praise, Creampie, Aftercare, A cluster-fuck :)
Enjoy ~
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“Listen to how pathetic you are, crying like a wounded animal. Is my cock too much for your little human cunt?” The god says as he pounds into you.
You are unsure of how long you’ve been getting speared on Ares’ unforgiving cock. The sounds of your wet joining, his sack slapping against your throbbing clit, your wanton moans and incoherent babbling, and the chains that have your arms suspended above you make up the cacophony of debauchery in Ares’ room.
Having come back from a sparring match –one interrupted by Zeus– defeated and agitated he sees you, his dutiful little human and your tight cunt was just the outlet he needed to relax.
The late evening rays of the setting sun paints the room, indicating you’ve been at the god's mercy for quite a while. Your whole body aches. Your arms are sore from prolonged suspension, your exposed skin stings from vigorous lashings of Ares’ strong hands and your quivering quim is exhausted from the repeatedly forced oragams and heavy pounding of Ares’ hips.
“Ma -ah- Master, pl-please -ah. I can’t.” You cry for mercy. Your poor body has tried to hold out for as long as your God needed but you can’t take it any more. A large hand is threaded through your hair before roughly pulling your head back, ripping another cry from your throat.
“You can’t?” A chuckle vibrates through his chest and into your back. Heavy panting laces his words, “That’s not really your choice now, is it, pet?” You give a weak whimper then he releases your head and pulls out of you completely leaving you feeling unbelievably empty.
You hang your head, body slack with only the chains around your wrists holding you up. Then the tension on your shoulders releases, pulling a relieved sigh from your lips. Your body drops unceremoniously to the floor. You're shaking and weak but manage to look up at the war God towering over you.
“Ma-master, please.” Your voice hiccups, tears threatening to brim over once more. You flinch when Ares’ powerful body crouches, his cock a steel rod coated in your milky essence erect in your vision before his hand wraps around your throat, directing your face up.
“Please, what, human?” He spits the last word, as if it leaves a bad taste in his mouth. Tsking, Ares tosses your face aside and stands. You timidly watch through your lashes as he paces across the large room to a cabinet. He opens a secret compartment in the back that you know is filled with tools he reserves specifically to tortour you with.
As you try to catch your breath and lift yourself on your shaky arm, you look up to see a flogging whip in his hands and his feral crimson eyes carving into your weak and battered body –the evidence of rough treatment already visible on your skin. He stops a few paces away from you and looks between you and his bed expectantly.
“Bed. Now.” Swallowing, you urge your legs to move so you could stand but are stopped promptly by a lashing of soft leather straps across your back. “Did I say you could stand. Crawl.” He spits, punctuating with a flog to your already reddened ass.
“Yes, Master.” You obediently say as you try to will your limbs to keep you up right as you scoot across the marble floor.
Making it to the bed Ares’ voice barks out once more, “Get on.” with another lash across our skin. With a whimpered response you crawl onto the plush mattress to the center and present your ass to him as he likes, your arms folded under you and face pressed into the soft furs beneath you.
You feel the bed dip from Ares’ weight. Positioned behind you, his warmth washing over you once more, you flinch at the sudden touch of his rough palm gripping your asscheek to spread you open.
“Look at your filthy cunt, gaping and dripping with my spunk like a street whore. You’re nothing but my toy, aren’t you?”
“Yes, Master.” A pleased dark laugh vibrates from the god’s chest and another lash of his whip.
“You like being used? Having your tiny human cunt stretched out around my cock, ruining you for any mortal man? Only a god’s cock will be able to satisfy this filthy hole of yours, huh?”
“Yes, Master. Please, Master- ah!” Your pleas were cut off by his hand coming down firmly on your ass.
“Such a greedy little whore. Please, what? Did I ask you what you wanted?”
“No, Ma-.” Another smack on his hot palm.
“No, I didn’t.”
Tossing the flog on the mattress Ares positions himself on one knee, his large hands groping and firmly massaging and spreading your ass in warning and in thought.
“I give you so much, do I not?”
“You do.” You plead and sniffle, new tears springing from your ducts.
“I do? Then why could you possibly be crying?” He says with a spank. “Did I not already give you my cock? My seed? Is being filled countless times and left dripping still not enough for you?”
“No. I- ah.” Another spank.
“No? Do you need me to fill you up more? You’ve already wasted my cum. Letting it drip out of your pathetic cunt and across my floor.” You feel his calloused fingers sliding through your soggy folds, collecting the white liquid dripping out of you. “Should I really continue to give you my prick after that?”
“I’m sorry, Master. Please, mercy.” You cry, making him laugh darkly once more
“Mercy.” He huffs as he shoves two thick fingers into your exhausted core. “Do I not show you mercy when I take you in my chambers instead of out in the open? Or perhaps I show it by not passing you off to another God to deal with you when I’m through with your sniffling?”
His digits bully your walls in quick and rough movements. He curls your insides making unearthly sounds rip from your throat, tears streaming down your face, muscles contracting.
“You’re lucky I’m fucking my seed back into you rather than throwing you outside to leak onto the pavement of the courtyard.”
“Yes, M-Master. T-thank y-you, M-ah!” Your words are robbed from you as your umpteenth orgasm of the evening erupts.
When your high dwindles the fingers pumping into your cunt don’t falter, they seem to continue with more vigor and ferocity, stealing your body’s chance to relax.
“Wait -ah- I- please- ah!” Your choked sobs are broken up and you feel helpless against the ruthless War God pummeling your trembling body with his fingers, especially when he just chuckles again and brings his hand against your bruised ass
“That’s right, little human. Cry. Beg. Beg me to stop ruining you. Is that what you want?”
“No.”
“No? Then plead. Scream for me. Let all of Olympus hear how needy you are for your master’s cock.” You cry, unable to speak as his fingers continue their assault.
Leaning over your back, your head is pulled back unnaturally by your hair so Ares can speak into your ear.
“Did you not hear me, human?” He spits through his gritted teeth. “Speak.”
“Please, Master! I need your c-cock. Stuff me full -ah- I need it! Please!” You plead loudly, your voice -along with the squelching of Ares’ moving fingers- bounce off the walls of the room.
“Good Pet.” He purrs into your ear pleased. Before you can let his praise melt over you, his fingers rip from your hole leaving you empty but not for long because before you could adjust to the emptiness you’re split in half on his rigid cock –that is harder than before.
With his hand still tangled in your sweat slicked locks his hips resume the same vicious pace as his finger. The soundtrack of skin on skin and choked moans and heavy breath fills the air.
“Fuck. That’s good. Let every God and human within a hundred mile radius hear you.” He grunts, smacking your ass. “If you try holding anything back from me your punishment will be so severe I’m not sure your human body would be able to handle it.”
His threatening words should scare you but they twist sickeningly sweet in your belly with the unbelievable pleasure he is bringing upon you. Not that you’d be able to hold back anything even if you wanted to, your jaw remains slack letting any and all sounds from your throat fall out and if you have any morsel of sense left you might’ve cared. Maybe even be embarrassed. But you’re not. Your mind is so far gone. The only jumbled thoughts that can pass through your fuck-out head is about Ares and his cock and needing more. More of his cock. More of his cum. You want to be so filled you’re dripping him from next week in reminder of who owns you.
“You’re squeezing my cock so tightly. You like being threatened? Filthy whore.” He says with an edge of amusement as he pulls you up till your back is flushed to his front. “But that just makes you my filthy whore, huh?”
“Yes.”
“Fuck, you’re cunt is good. I’m so close. You want my cum, human?”
“Yes.” It’s the only word your dumb brain can make up but Ares doesn’t care, you can tell by his erratic breathing and irregular pumping of his hasty hips against yours that he is soon to burst.
“Yeah? Dump my spunk into your womb? Make you round with my seed? Is that what you want?”
“Gods, yes!” You moan, your head resting back against his shoulder, his hand leaves your hair to rub your sensitive clitoris.
For support you grab onto any part of him you can —his arm wrapped around your front, his tight ass behind you– digging your nails into his skin he hisses in your ear, hips moving faster to reach your collective ends.
“Taking me so fucking well. Your sweet cunt was made to be split on my thick cock. Damn it!” He roars, his hips hitting your ass once final time with a hard smack. Nonsensical moans fall from your open lips as a hot pool begins to spread in your belly, his balls empty out into your quivering core as his fingers continue to rub the nub between your lower lips.
Your stomach twists tighter and tighter the longer his fingers keep moving, hell bent on pushing you over the edge one last time.
“Cum on my fucking cock. I want to feel your cunt milk me.”
“Yes I-I’m-.” You weren’t able to finish your sentence before you were swept under the tidal wave of pleasure coursing through your fatigue stricken body.
“Good girl. Fuck.” Praises fill your ears as he works you through your -hopefully- last orgasm of the night.
Once you’ve finally fully slumped in Ares’ grasp he gently lays you back to the mattress, your cheek presses into the soft pelt beneath you as you try to catch your ragged breath. Warm hands run down the length of your body, tickling the skin of your waist to your hips. Gently rubbing your battered ass in his hands, Ares slowly pulls out of your exhausted walls. Low praises enter your ears as you let out a hiccup of discomfort at the feeling of being emptied and being spread for the God to watch his thick white seed leak out of you.
“You did so good for me, Sweetheart. Just relax, I will clean you up soon.” He says, stepping off the bed. Picking up the whip beside you and placing it on the nightstand, Ares crouches beside the bed to be eye level with you, he pets your head, brushing away stray hairs stuck to your forehead from sweat.
“Are you okay?” His voice is serious and warm. Willing your eyes to flutter open you’re met with crimson eyes that are completely different than before. Before they looked like the ones of a predator but now they are the ones of your lover, a man that loves you. Giving a tired smile you nod your head slightly.
“Yeah.” “Good. Do you want me to run you a bath or do you want to lay for a while?”
“Lay for a while.” You yawn.
“Do you want me to hold you or if you wish I can leave?”
“No, stay.” You lay your hand on his wrist and without another word Ares gathers you in his arms, gentle to not harm your already sore body, and lays with you in the middle of his large bed.
“Rest now, Darling. I’m in no rush.” You humm in tried response and nuzzle your head into Ares’ warm chest, listening to the low rumble of his voice speaking praises along with the steady beat of his heart.
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This took a while to get to cuz I couldn’t figure out how to write it  But I got there and I hope you liked it
Feedback & Interaction is always appreciated! :)
💛 ~
~ Kinktober Masterlist ~ ~ Masterlist~  
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the-iceni-bitch · 2 years
Text
Would You Believe It?
Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x fem!reader (ninja and puppy, NLLYL AU)
Words: ~2.1k
Summary: Your little family might be getting bigger…
Warnings: explicit language, explicit sexual content (morning sex, soft sex, unprotected vaginal sex), established relationship, good natured teasing, soft Ransom, some angst, mention of an injury to an animal, Fionn is the goodest boy.lots of fluff, idiots in love, SMUT!! 18+ ONLY!!!
A/N: It’s been way too fucking long since I wrote my soft babies and holy fuck, I love them so much!! I am hoping that I’ll have the bachelor party and the wedding for you before it’s time for Kinktober!!! I am a soft baby 🥺
I am no longer doing taglists so if you want to stay up to date on all the latest filth, follow my sideblog @the-iceni-library and turn on notifications!
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Ransom let out a soft sigh when he woke up with his body sprawled over yours, burying his face in your hair and breathing deeply while he slid his arms around your waist. It was still early, and it was Saturday, and you might kill him if he woke you up before eight o’clock, but it wasn’t his fault that waking up with his cock pressed against your ass made him unbelievably hard.
“Nooooooo.” You whined when he nuzzled your hair aside and sucked on your ear, stubbornly keeping your eyes screwed closed when he started grinding against you. “The sun isn’t even up yet, what are you doing?”
“Once it’s up, it’s gonna be too hot for me to go on my run.” He grinned when you grumbled but still spread your legs when he slid a hand down to tease over your slit, humming when he found you already wet and ready for him. “And you know how bad it is to run with cold muscles. Need my warm up.”
“That’s what I am now… oh fuck.” Your eyes fluttered a little when he slid inside you. “Your warm up?”
“No, you’re my fiancée.” He growled when you clenched around him before starting to rut into you, his hands sliding up your side until he could wind his fingers through yours above your head as he kissed along the edge of your jaw. “My soft, warm, wet, tight, always ready fiancée. God, you’re amazing, I need you, just lemme have one.”
“Fine, sweet talker.” You gave him a lazy grin over your shoulder and arched your back so he could drive into you deeper, purring when he rubbed his cheek against yours and licking your lips. “But when you’re done I’m going back to sleep.”
Ransom kissed the corner of your mouth with a smile before leaning back so he could thrust into you harder, his hips bouncing off your ass as his knees forced your thighs further apart while he angled himself so he could hit that perfect spot every time. You started making those soft, wanton noises that made his chest ache and he felt himself losing it. He collapsed on top of you and moaned in your ear, begging you to give him everything without saying a word and rolling his hips against you desperately when he felt you starting to flutter around him.
“That’s it, oh fuck, that’s my girl.” He buried his face in your neck when you let out a soft cry, grunting at the feeling of your cunt squeezing his cock while you shuddered underneath him. “Love you so fucking much, shit.”
“I love you too, oh my god.” Your eyes rolled back in your head when his cock throbbed inside you until you were full of him, holding his hands tightly as you writhed underneath him until you had pulled everything out of him. “I swear, you only fuck me this early because it’s the only time you can guarantee I’ll let you top.”
“Maybe.” He nibbled playfully on your ear until you turned your face so he could press his lips to yours, smiling against your mouth when you just let out an annoyed huff. “I do like how cranky you act even while this sweet little pussy cries for me.”
“Shut up and go on your run.” You swatted him when he pecked your cheek before grabbing his hair when he tried to kiss his way down your spine. “No, leave it. Sleep better when I’m full of you.”
Ransom gave you a warm grin when he watched you start to doze off again, moving to the closet to pull on some shorts and a tee. Seeing you squeezing your thighs together as you rolled on your side and let out soft, sleepy noises just made him feel even warmer, pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth and sighing when you let out a sigh while you scrunched up your nose before he headed to hook up the dog and take off.
The sun and your phone woke you up about an hour later, making you grumble to yourself about needy bastards who couldn’t wait to get their dick wet. Who ran for an hour anyway? On a weekend? And why the fuck was he calling you? The man was lucky you were in love with him.
“Why, Ran? Why can’t you let me sleep on the weekends?” You grumbled when you picked up the phone, blinking slowly when you just heard him take a shaky breath over the line and felt yourself starting to wake up more. “Baby? What is it?”
“You have to… hey, Fionn, it’s okay buddy. You have to come get us.” You heard the sound of a dog whining from over the line and sprang out of the bed, rushing to the closet to pull something on. “I think she got hit by a car, I don’t know, her leg looks really bad.”
“She? Are you guys alright?” You pulled on leggings and a sweater and ran down the stairs, grabbing your keys and heading down the stairs two at a time. “Where are you?”
“We’re okay, Fi just pulled me off the road and we found her.” Ransom’s breathing was starting to calm down as he talked to you, blowing out a sigh when he heard your car start. “She’s breathing okay but she’s super scared and won’t let me touch her, and she can’t move on her own.”
“I have a muzzle and everything in my car, where are you?” You nodded to yourself and peeled out when he told you. “Okay, I’ll be there in five minutes. Do you want me to stay on the line with you?”
“That would be great, thanks. How do you deal with this stuff every day?”
You managed to make it there quickly, spotting Ransom from the road and pulling over. Ransom felt like he could finally breathe when you had grabbed all your gear and started walking towards him, winding an arm around you and sniffing before he kissed the top of your head.
“Where is she? Hey pretty girl!” You gave Fionn some head scratches when he jumped on you when you reached the injured pittie mix, kneeling a few feet away from her when she gave you a warning growl as you assessed her injuries to the best of your ability while your golden slinked closer to her and whined. “I know, good boy, such a big help. That leg is definitely broken, I don’t know if we’re gonna be able to set it until we get some rads though. Can you grab the big, flat box from my trunk, babe?”
“Yeah.” Ransom took your keys when you handed them to him and went to go grab it, feeling better when he got back and saw the stray tentatively take a treat you had tossed towards her. “How are we gonna get her into this?”
“It’ll probably be easier once we find her puppies.” You barely registered the shocked noise he made before you managed to scoot a little closer to her, cooing when you held out a treat for her and she took it from your hand. “She’s lactating, honey, and she keeps trying to crawl in that direction. Fionn, you stay.”
You gave Fionn his own treat before standing and motioning for Ransom to follow you, shushing him when he tried to ask you questions and listening closely for any sounds that would indicate what you were looking for. It fortunately didn’t take long, some small cries reaching your ears and leading you to a small ditch behind a bush and four tiny puppies whining and rolling all over each other.
“Holy fuck, they’re so small.” Ransom hesitated a bit before taking the first puppy you handed to him, cradling it against his chest and staring at it with wonder before taking the second one. “Their eyes aren’t even open yet.”
“Yeah, they’re brand new. Here we go, mama!” The both of you smiled when she started wagging her tail once you brought the puppies to her, letting her sniff them before putting them in the blanket lined box. “We’ve got your babies, they’re okay. We’re gonna take you all to see some nice doctors and nurses and get you taken care of. I’ve gotta pick you up, and I’m just gonna put this on you because I know you’re feeling ouchie and I don’t want you to bite me, good girl. Can you drive, baby?”
Ransom had never really gotten to see you work before and he wasn’t really prepared for how it was making him feel, warmth spreading through his chest every time you murmured a soft reassurance to your patient as you got a better look at her. Sometimes he forgot how compassionate and sweet you could be, how much sympathy you had for your patients and how you were just so goddamn good, too good for him. He couldn’t stop smiling at you absentmindedly while he helped you carry the pittie and her babies into the hospital, doing his best to stop himself from kissing you in front of all your coworkers when you met another doctor and went over everything with him with so much fucking competence, he couldn’t believe how attracted to and in love with you he was right now.
“Ran, I’m gonna go back and change into some scrubs so I can help.” You gave him a warm grin when he wound an arm around you and pressed his lips to your cheek. “Are you gonna be okay?”
“Um, yeah, I’ll be good.” You were so amazing, he definitely didn’t deserve you. “Can… can I do anything to help? With the puppies maybe?”
“Oh, yeah! Of course!” You grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the treatment area, giving Fionn a few scritches when he went to sniff the table the puppies were on while Ransom tried not to look too worried. “They’re just getting a quick checkup and then bottle feeding, Taylor will show you what to do. I’ll check in when I can.”
Once he knew what to do it was relatively easy, I helped that he knew Taylor and was somewhat comfortable with her, even though she did keep teasing him that he was supposed to be an asshole and seeing him act all concerned about baby animals was ruining his reputation. What wasn’t super helpful was that all the other staff at your hospital that hadn’t met him kept coming to get a look at him then giggling and whispering with each other once they had. Apparently he was even more gorgeous than Kendra had told them from what he overheard, and Taylor mentioned that they couldn’t believe you were actually going to get married, so they had to come see your mythical fiancé.
It was a few hours later when you finally came to check on Ransom, your tired expression melting into a grin when you saw him sitting next to their kennel and watching them sleep on their little heated bed while Fionn rested his head in his lap. He gave you a smile of his own when you crouched next to him and pressed your lips to his cheek, reaching out to cup your jaw and humming softly when his eyes met yours as he rubbed your noses together.
“Everything go okay?” He pecked your lips gently while he kept tracing your cheek with his thumb.
“Yeah, we had to take the leg, but she’s gonna be fine.” You stood back up and pulled him with you, your golden wagging his tail as he looked between the two of you and nudged Ransom’s hand with his nose. “You wanna come see her? She’s waking up.”
Ransom nodded and wound his fingers through yours as he let you lead him to recovery while the dog trailed after you. The way he smiled when he saw her made your heart melt, especially since her tail started wagging when she spotted him and Fionn and her face got this unbelievably happy look on it. He was so gentle when he knelt next to her and reached out to rub her ears, giving you a sheepish grin when she licked his hand even as Fionn curled up next to her. You knew that look he was giving you, like a little kid who was holding a puppy for the very first time.
“Can we keep her?”
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thebimbowhisperer · 11 months
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Hi apologies if you've already been asked this but what do you think the ideal level of intelligence for a bimbo to have is? You can answer in IQ (even if it is a flawed measurement) or just on a vibe based measurement. Simply dumber than average? A highschool drop out? Too dumb to tie her shoes without your help? Too dumb to even put on shoes? It's always fascinating to me to see how far different people go into the mental play aspect as its my favourite part.
This one is hard to answer. I would rephrase it a little. The main goal of bimboism, as it appears and appeals to me, is to re-invent femininity, to recreate sexiness, to upgrade sensuality to a fully new level. The goal then would be that stuff like intelligence does not matter at all anymore. So horny, so lust-driven, so greedy, wanting, needy, so clingy, dependent, beautiful, alluring, so unbelievable ready, moist and willing that she cannot think nor walk nor talk straight, nor count to more than two:
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Bimboism, in other words, as the realization of fully unleashed female wantonness where everything on her, in her, with her is about sex and happiness and nothing else. In this kind of state, the level of thinking can simply be not low enough.
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witch-and-her-witcher · 7 months
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The Rite
@officialfeysandweek2023 Day Six Prompt: Mates
feysand | NSFW | some fluff/breeding kink/dom feyre
--
Steeped in layer after layer of tradition, it seemed as though the day would never come to a close. 
They'd been split since the evening before, when it had been declared Feyre's cycle had returned alongside a clean health check.
Between the pilgrimage to the Goddess Aphreyes mountain hot springs, the time spent soaking and listening to elders' stories, walking naked aside from a thin towel (Feyre suspected Rhys performed this same walk proudly without a towel, strutting like the cocky bastard his brothers knew him to be) through a tunnel of the same sex bathers now wielding swatches of birch and juniper to cleanse the final impurities, before the eldest priestesses painted them each with twisting dragons around an arm.
And then the feasting began.
Decadent fruits and desserts for Rhys, to make the seed he would plant sweet for his mate. Bloody, hardy meat dishes for Feyre to lend strength to her womb to bear the heavy burden of a child. Followed by dancing, singing in old tongues, and several more rites Feyre could hardly remember for the faerie wine she'd happily indulged in.
A night away from the baby (Nyx truly hardly a baby at two, but always in his mother's eyes) would not go to waste.
Even if it seemed that the High Lord and Lady wouldn't be released to perform the one act all of this fuss centered around.
"They're excited, let them have their fun," Rhys whispered, hot breath tantalizing along the shell of her ear as he leaned into Feyre's neck to be heard over the celebration. "They've not had an excuse to do so in such a long time. You fill them with such hope, Feyre darling."
Before he could pull away, Feyre whipped her head quick enough to the side to catch those teasing lips with her own. Kissed and then spoke against them, "We give them hope, my mate."
Rhys's eyes danced with that nightsky wonderment. He still didn't accept his role as the hero in the eyes of his people - but Feyre would contently spend eternity reminding and convincing him of that fact. Her strong, kind hearted husband and mate who play acted pride, but was so unbelievably humble: a male who would sacrifice his own life for any one of his citizens, and yet didn't believe himself worth of their adoration.
With a fierceness of the love simmering between them, golden and bubbling along the bond, Feyre caught his mouth once more.
Cheers and claps met the performance. Feyre pulled away, flushed and panting, but unable to pull her eyes off of her mate.
A little bit longer, mate. But I can't hold out much more than that.
Hungry tonight? Did Mama Yanni's tales inspire such ardor?
Feyre flashed her fae sharp teeth. A promise. Tonight, husband, you are mine. All mine.
The shiver that ran across Rhys was visible. Feyre preened at that, at knowing her possession of him body and soul was what Rhys ached for, craved so desperately.
And possess, she would.
"Should I come on your back, just to spite them all?"
Rhys was laughing into the devouring, open mouthed kiss Feyre was trying desperately to hold on to as he pumped into her so vigorously she struggled to maintain a hold.
Their arms were intertwined, the dragons painted on their arms twisting as intended during the throes of lovemaking.
"Rhys," she chided. But it came out breathy, desperate, dripping with wanton need instead of a reminder they were both going to complete the rite and see Aphreye's meteor shower scatter across the early dawn sky in commendation for their efforts.
Neither of them wanted another child, now or maybe ever, but the odds of actually conceiving where so low they'd agreed to participate full heartedly.
"Feyre darling," he crooned back, entirely too put together. Had he not imbibed as much as her? Feyre didn't like it.
She wanted her mate undone.
With the strength of all the seven courts coursing through her veins, Feyre squeezed her legs around Rhys's waist, arched her back, and with a final twist threw him onto his back. She picked up his punishing pace straddling his lap, moving around his length that seemed nearly to her stomach with how erect Rhys had been by their getaway from the celebrations still ongoing in the distance.
But as Rhys grinned fiendishly up at her, Feyre rolled her hips to a gentle stop - right at the top of his cock. Hands pressed to his chest for balance, ass pressed high, and breasts temptingly hovering at eye level, Feyre taunted with rolls and circled motions that rocked along the fat head of the High Lord's glorious cock. Her own arousal dripped down his length, but she didn't take him into her tight, aching insides just yet.
When Rhys gripped her hips, large hands nearly wrapping around her with hopes of gaining control, Feyre snapped dark restraints to life. First wrapping around his wrists to pull them from her, and then when inspiration lit in her lust darkened eyes, Feyre commanded the power of night at her will to wrap her mate's hands against the headboard, over his head.
Is this alright? She purred.
Rhys's eyes were midnight, the reflection of a thousand stars with his pupils blown wide. The bond hummed with how irrevocably alright this was to him.
"Good mate," Feyre praised, slamming him into her to the hilt. The sudden overwhelming fullness made her whole body ache with need for more, more, more. Rhys's eyes rolled back into his skull, mouth falling agape. "That's right. Let your High Lady take care of you."
Giddy arousal tickled every one of her nerve endings, but Feyre bade herself to remain centered, focused on serving her mate's needs - which so graciously aligned with her own pleasures. Taking his cock, fast or slow, hard or tenderly, was where she'd happily spend her free time. Riding him until she collapsed with exhaustion or the bed broke - they'd tested both boundaries numerous times.
But she was riding Rhys with a purpose, tonight.
Swooning down, Feyre dragged sharp teeth and a thin trail of saliva from her plush bottom lip along the column of Rhys's neck. His pulse danced beneath her.
"I'm going to fuck you, Rhys, until all you can think about is putting a baby into me. How badly you want to see me swollen with your child once again."
Rhys moaned and writhed against his restraints. Using my own powers against me. You play dirty, mate.
Feyre let soft, heatless flames lick up the night bindings. "I didn't think you'd want someone else joining us in the bedroom … tonight, at least."
Whatever he wanted to say back, Feyre silenced with a punishing kiss and sharp twist of his nipple. Rhys gasped against her tongue, her teeth clattering roughly against his at times without a care.
Drunk off wine and lust, Feyre only wanted him babbling and coming like a virgin on his first night inside a female.
"Yes 'High Lady' or 'my mate' is all you will say until you've filled me with so much of your seed I'll be pregnant for centuries. Understand?"
Rhys arched against her, nodding wordlessly, but that sharp gaze wasn't offering as much submission as she knew he desired at his core.
That's alright, they had time. For her mate, Feyre would taunt and tease and draw him to the very edge of his self control. 
Besides, they had their citizens' expectations to live up to. They couldn't let them down when they'd be waiting for their meteor shower to confirm they were attempting to further the ruling line.
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littlelioncub43 · 2 years
Note
Our sweet sweet inexperienced ralphie 💖 i just wanna make out with him no matter how clumsy and not perfect it might be
Ah! My baby! So unbelievably inexperienced but so unwaveringly eager
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Ralph was thankful the balcony was empty as you sat on a bench together, lips locked in a secret dance that he has never experienced before. He was new to this, to everything pertaining to the physical joys of love, and you knew this. Ralph loves you, and you love Ralph. He couldn't fathom the idea of anyone else being his first kiss. His mouth was shut for the better part of 3 minutes before you pulled back with a light chuckle.
"Ralph, honey, you can open your mouth," you encourage gently and pet his cheek with the pad of your thumb, your faces inches apart. You didn't want to scare him off or make him any more self conscious than he already was.
"O-Ok," he mumbled between quick breaths, even with relatively innocent closed-lipped kisses he was wound up tighter than a spring.
"Relax, Ralphie, relax. Take some deep breaths for me, hm?" You coo and comb out his hair. You breathe deeply with him for a few moments until he seemed more composed. "There you go. Now, let's try it again."
Ralph whimpered softly at your sultry tone and eagerly leaned in to capture your lips once more. His desire oozed off of him, it nearly overwhelmed you just how much he wants you but it was too enticing to ignore. This time around his lips are more confident, they move with yours after he found the rhythm. It was nice.
But nothing compared to the sound he made when your tongue licked at his bottom lip.
It was a choked gasp, the air getting caught in his throat the moment he felt your soft tongue tease his mouth. The gasp left his lips parted, just enough room for your tongue to dip into his mouth. The taste and feel of your tongue touching his for the first time is something you'd both remember for a long time.
"Mmmmm!" He moans, it's unbridled and wanton, no shame evident in the timbre of his voice. He's shocked, stunned, and flabbergasted. Your tongue wiggles and slides around his mouth in such a dizzying way that has his head swimming and his eyes rolling. He wraps his arms around you, pulling you deeper into him.
When you pull back for another breath, Ralph whines at the loss of your mouth and immediately chases you, stealing a few more wild, inexperienced kisses before you have to push him back softly, your foreheads touching.
"Oh my God," he sighs, his hands grasping the fabric of your dress as he grounds himself as best he can. "You-You're a Goddess, I'm sure of it," he speaks between heaving breaths, "oh, darling, you're perfect, absolutely perfect."
"You're so sweet to me, Ralphie," you bashfully whisper, playing with the ornate collar of his shirt and blazer. "Come, we must be getting back before your sister starts looking for us."
"Do we have to?" He whines, sounding like a child, it made you smile.
"Yes, unless you want Victoria to catch us like this," you tease. At the mention of his sister finding you both together in such an intimate position, Ralph resigned to your suggestion. You giggle at his sweet pouty lips, swollen from your kisses and slick with your spit. "We can resume this later in the evening."
Now, that sounds promising.
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oakenorcrist · 4 months
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cake
steve/eddie, rated E
excerpt:
Steve hums against Eddie’s neck and leans over to press their lips together feverishly. Eddie almost cries then, it’s all a mess of tongues and spit running down his chin, as Steve grabs at his thighs and adjusts him so it’s more comfortable for them both, because even in the throes of passion he’s so unbelievably caring, and in the midst of all the wanton hunger Eddie’s feeling he also lets his heart be flooded with how much love he feels for the man above him as well, that tender emotion that blossomed so carefully and now burns so freely between them. They part, a string of saliva bridging their lips, and pant into each other’s mouths.
[read on ao3]
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lady-rose-moon · 1 year
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Just being with you... || Loki || Kinktober 2022 || 18+ ||
Part of my Kinktober Masterlist that you can find ~here~
My main Masterlist can be found ~~here~~
Summary: after sneaking away from a party, you decide that the best way to celebrate is with your lover...
Warnings: 18+, Minors DNI, thigh riding
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Ever since Loki moved into Avengers tower, you had been overjoyed. Having abandoned Asgard back when he fell from the Bifrost and his subsequent return a year later driving you to Midgard, you were thrilled when the year after, King Odin announced that Loki would be permitted to serve his punishment with the Avengers. 
Now, Loki was known as an Avenger! He had his own action figure, child versions of his costume and horns were all the rage, and he was demanded an interview by every radio/television/podcast company there was! The Avengers had accepted your move into the Tower because they knew, as Loki’s wife, you would be able to handle the God. 
Avengers Tower was lively, many heroes going on missions and parties raging into the night for their victories. Loki barely joined the festivities but you knew it was his insecurities that led him to cowering away in his chambers for fear that it would bother everyone that he was in attendance. 
Tonight was no different. You escaped the joyous party with a box full of treats and your hair falling from the intricate style that Natasha and Wanda had helped you put it in but you hardly cared as you took the elevator to Thor and Loki’s floor. You swiped your card to Loki’s door and stepped inside to see the lights off and you released a heavy sigh and set the snacks down on the table closest to you before heading to his office where you knew he would be.
You slowly pushed the door open and smiled when you saw your husband at his desk, his eyes locked to the screen with his green seiðr helping him write notes for his reports. Smiling, you walked further into the room and stood beside his desk, gazing at the computer screen with interest and you cooed, “you’re studying me?”
“You are my strongest Avenger, dear,” Loki returned with a smile, looking away from his computer screen to meet your eyes. “You didn’t need to leave the celebrations for me,” your husband whispered, leaning back in his chair as he smirked up at you, “I would still have been here afterwards.”
You clicked your tongue and rolled your eyes. “I had hoped that you would have been in attendance tonight, husband,” you returned, lifting the slit in your green dress just enough so that he could see that your leg held no sign of a pantie strap and his face lost its colour, “I was going to reward you.”
“Rest assured, my darling,” Loki whispered huskily, “you can still very much reward me right now with that stunning cunt. I bet she’s missed me.”
Your lips spread into a devious smirk as you approached him, your hips swaying enticingly as you kept Loki's attention. His eyes were dark with lust for you even as you mounted his powerful thigh and your hand caressed his soft check. A sharp roll of your hips caused your weeping pussy to slide against his clothed thigh, eliciting a wanton moan from your throat from the intoxicating friction between your legs. With a sharp curse, your hips continued to roll against those godly thighs and your eyes slipped closed from the unbelievable pleasure. 
"Norns, pet," Loki moaned as his hands met your hips and he guided you through your pleasure," that is my good wife. You're so brilliant, kjaere, I apologise for not coming to the party if this was to be my reward."
You smirked slyly and began to quicken your pace, moaning at the wonderful feeling of your clit being stimulated by the silken fabric of his trousers. Loki moaned eagerly beneath you, relishing in the pleasure that you were taking with his thigh. He leaned his head upwards and sealed your lips in a passionate kiss. You continued to chase the electric pleasure that shot through you each time that you fucked your husband. Even now, your pleasure was building up into an intense orgasm that you knew would rock Loki's world.
You pulled away from the kiss and released a sinful moan as your orgasm ripped through you.
"Norns," Loki moaned enthusiastically and watched as you came down from your high. The God palmed his hardened length through his pants, watching with keen interest as your breathing returned to normal. "My good girl," the God praised, "do you feel better now?"
You nodded slowly and sunk against him. You were too sensitive now but your hips continued to roll lazily, trying to chase the powerful release. Loki chuckled but whispered soothingly in your ear, "sleep, my beautiful wife, you deserve some rest after such a powerful release."
Loki's gentle caresses followed you into a peaceful sleep. You always knew that you would be perfectly safe in the arms of your husband.
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estrellami-1 · 8 months
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@every-aj-needs-an-angel made “favorite lines from each chapter” posts and I’ve decided to do the same. Let me know if you don’t want to be tagged, lovely! ❤️
Chapter 1
“Ooh, and they’re saying you got your asshole bleached.”
“That one is true,” Alex says through a mouthful of chocolate with sprinkles.
“Thought so,” June says without looking up.
Just. Their sibling relationship is SO perfect. I’m in love.
Given the choice, he’d rather read one of the hundreds of glowing pieces of fan fiction about him on the internet, the up-to-eleven version of himself with devastating charm and unbelievable physical stamina, but June flat out refuses to read those aloud to him, no matter how much he tries to bribe her.
Once again, PEAK sibling behavior. I’m obsessed.
They were seventeen and eighteen and doomed from the start, both convinced they were the smartest person in any room. Alex has since conceded Nora is 100 percent smarter than him and definitely too smart to have ever dated him.
I need a Nora ASAP please. She’s fantastic. The second line has lived in my brain rent-free since I first read it.
“‘Arch nemesis’ implies he’s actually a rival to me on any level and not, you know, a stuck- up product of inbreeding who probably jerks off to photos of himself.”
“Woof.”
“I’m just saying.”
Oh, Alex. You have no idea.
“Ew, you have Garden State on your watch list? Wow, how’s film school in 2005 going?”
“I hate you.”
“Hmm, I know.”
Actual footage of me and my youngest brother istg
Amy, his mother’s favorite Secret Service agent, a former Navy SEAL who is rumored around DC to have killed several men, sits across the aisle. She’s got a bulletproof titanium case of crafting supplies open on the couch next to her and is serenely embroidering flowers onto a napkin. Alex has seen her stab someone in the kneecap with a very similar embroidery needle.
I’m in love with all of this. Amy is who I aspire to be.
“Risk assessment: FSOTUS failing to check himself before he wrecks himself will result in greater than five hundred civilian casualties. Ninety-eight percent probability of Prince Henry looking like a total dreamboat. Seventy- eight percent probability of Alex getting himself banned from the United Kingdom forever.”
“Those are better odds than I expected,” June observes.
Alex laughs, and the plane soars on.
Once again where do I get a Nora. I love her.
“Do either of y’all know what a viscount is?” June is saying, halfway through a cucumber sandwich. “I’ve met like, five of them, and I keep smiling politely as if I know what it means when they say it. Alex, you took comparative international governmental relational things. Whatever. What are they?”
“I think it’s that thing when a vampire creates an army of crazed sex waifs and starts his own ruling body,” he says.
“That sounds right,” Nora says…
“I wish I were a viscount,” June says. “I could have my sex waifs deal with my emails.”
“Are sex waifs good with professional correspondence?” Alex asks.
Nora’s napkin has begun to resemble a bird. “I think it could be an interesting approach. Their emails would be all tragic and wanton.” She tries on a breathless, husky voice. “‘Oh, please, I beg you, take me—take me to lunch to discuss fabric samples, you beast!’”
“Could be weirdly effective,” Alex notes.
“Something is wrong with both of you,” June says gently.
I’m somehow all three of them. I love this exchange SO much.
His face is still infuriatingly symmetrical.
Alex. Buddy. You oblivious fuck.
“Aw, little buddy,” Nora says. She reaches over and pats his hand. “It’s cute how you think everything is about you.”
“It should be, honestly.”
“That’s the spirit.”
Once again I’m in love with Nora.
For a second, all he can think as he stares up at the ceiling while covered in frosting and champagne is that at least Henry’s dance with June won’t be the biggest story to come out of the royal wedding.
His next thought is that his mother is going to murder him in cold blood.
Alex worrying about the important things first.
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recursive360 · 16 days
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Auguries of Innocence
BY WILLIAM BLAKE
To see a World in a Grain of Sand
And a Heaven in a Wild Flower 
Hold Infinity in the palm of your hand 
And Eternity in an hour
A Robin Red breast in a Cage
Puts all Heaven in a Rage 
A Dove house filld with Doves & Pigeons
Shudders Hell thr' all its regions 
A dog starvd at his Masters Gate
Predicts the ruin of the State 
A Horse misusd upon the Road
Calls to Heaven for Human blood 
Each outcry of the hunted Hare
A fibre from the Brain does tear 
A Skylark wounded in the wing 
A Cherubim does cease to sing 
The Game Cock clipd & armd for fight
Does the Rising Sun affright 
Every Wolfs & Lions howl
Raises from Hell a Human Soul 
The wild deer, wandring here & there 
Keeps the Human Soul from Care 
The Lamb misusd breeds Public Strife
And yet forgives the Butchers knife 
The Bat that flits at close of Eve
Has left the Brain that wont Believe
The Owl that calls upon the Night
Speaks the Unbelievers fright
He who shall hurt the little Wren
Shall never be belovd by Men 
He who the Ox to wrath has movd
Shall never be by Woman lovd
The wanton Boy that kills the Fly
Shall feel the Spiders enmity 
He who torments the Chafers Sprite
Weaves a Bower in endless Night 
The Catterpiller on the Leaf
Repeats to thee thy Mothers grief 
Kill not the Moth nor Butterfly 
For the Last Judgment draweth nigh 
He who shall train the Horse to War
Shall never pass the Polar Bar 
The Beggars Dog & Widows Cat 
Feed them & thou wilt grow fat 
The Gnat that sings his Summers Song
Poison gets from Slanders tongue 
The poison of the Snake & Newt
Is the sweat of Envys Foot 
The poison of the Honey Bee
Is the Artists Jealousy
The Princes Robes & Beggars Rags
Are Toadstools on the Misers Bags 
A Truth thats told with bad intent
Beats all the Lies you can invent 
It is right it should be so 
Man was made for Joy & Woe 
And when this we rightly know 
Thro the World we safely go 
Joy & Woe are woven fine 
A Clothing for the soul divine 
Under every grief & pine
Runs a joy with silken twine 
The Babe is more than swadling Bands
Throughout all these Human Lands
Tools were made & Born were hands 
Every Farmer Understands
Every Tear from Every Eye
Becomes a Babe in Eternity 
This is caught by Females bright
And returnd to its own delight 
The Bleat the Bark Bellow & Roar 
Are Waves that Beat on Heavens Shore 
The Babe that weeps the Rod beneath
Writes Revenge in realms of Death 
The Beggars Rags fluttering in Air
Does to Rags the Heavens tear 
The Soldier armd with Sword & Gun 
Palsied strikes the Summers Sun
The poor Mans Farthing is worth more
Than all the Gold on Africs Shore
One Mite wrung from the Labrers hands
Shall buy & sell the Misers Lands 
Or if protected from on high 
Does that whole Nation sell & buy 
He who mocks the Infants Faith
Shall be mockd in Age & Death 
He who shall teach the Child to Doubt
The rotting Grave shall neer get out 
He who respects the Infants faith
Triumphs over Hell & Death 
The Childs Toys & the Old Mans Reasons
Are the Fruits of the Two seasons 
The Questioner who sits so sly 
Shall never know how to Reply 
He who replies to words of Doubt
Doth put the Light of Knowledge out 
The Strongest Poison ever known
Came from Caesars Laurel Crown 
Nought can Deform the Human Race
Like to the Armours iron brace 
When Gold & Gems adorn the Plow
To peaceful Arts shall Envy Bow 
A Riddle or the Crickets Cry
Is to Doubt a fit Reply 
The Emmets Inch & Eagles Mile
Make Lame Philosophy to smile 
He who Doubts from what he sees
Will neer Believe do what you Please 
If the Sun & Moon should Doubt 
Theyd immediately Go out 
To be in a Passion you Good may Do 
But no Good if a Passion is in you 
The Whore & Gambler by the State
Licencd build that Nations Fate 
The Harlots cry from Street to Street 
Shall weave Old Englands winding Sheet 
The Winners Shout the Losers Curse 
Dance before dead Englands Hearse 
Every Night & every Morn
Some to Misery are Born 
Every Morn and every Night
Some are Born to sweet delight 
Some are Born to sweet delight 
Some are Born to Endless Night 
We are led to Believe a Lie
When we see not Thro the Eye
Which was Born in a Night to perish in a Night 
When the Soul Slept in Beams of Light 
God Appears & God is Light
To those poor Souls who dwell in Night 
But does a Human Form Display
To those who Dwell in Realms of day
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Source: Poets of the English Language (Viking Press, 1950)
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