usertala

[usertala]

work under progress

[usertala]

I will never stop reblogging tumblr ads

A journal app for when you need to process this hellsite. Try Day One, or Pikaman will haunt you in your sleep.

[usertala]

this apo has the best ads

[INSERT BODY COPY HERE]

[usertala]

asmo as evelynn (evaporates into thin air)

[usertala]

It’s not May without mermaids ^^

[usertala]

why can't solmare make a normal obey me ad ☠️☠️☠️

#tala <3 #obey me: one master to rule them all #obey me #obey me x mc #obey me swd #mammon x reader #obey me mammon #obey me satan #obey me spoilers #obey me lucifer #obey me x reader #swd satan #swd diavolo #swd mammon #swd asmodeus #swd solomon #om! swd #swd beelzebub #swd leviathan #mammon headcanon #mammon fluff #mammon angst #mammon obey me #shall we date mammon #mammonobeyme #mammon avatar of greed #mammon x y/n #mammon x you #om lucifer #lucifer x y/n

[usertala]

what is this 😭😭😭

TUMBLR WHY DID YOU THINK THIS WAS A GOOD IDEA

[usertala]

they’re in love!! (with you)

→ feat. atsumu miya, oikawa tooru, hinata shoyo, sakusa kiyoomi || genres: fluff

KIYOOMI is late to work. and it’s not his fault. no, he didn’t sleep in. he didn’t forget to turn off the stove. he didn’t forget his keys. in fact, he woke up at seven am like he always does. but kiyoomi is late to work and it’s because of you.

“baby, one more kiss? the last one,” you say, lips already chasing after his.

but kiyoomi puts a hand over your mouth. “you said that twenty kisses ago.”

“last one, i promise, please?”

and now you’re holding onto his necktie, eyes blinking at him, waiting for him to say yes. but kiyoomi is already ten minutes late to work and he knows that if he caves into you he will be even later. so he opens his mouth, about to say no, but then you kiss his cheek and whisper in his ear.

“please?”

god. he can’t say no to you.

kiyoomi kisses you, sighing into the kiss. he can feel your smile against his lips. what a little devil, he thinks. but that doesn’t matter right now, because your lips feel like heaven and kiyoomi thinks this is paradise. and kiyoomi kisses you again and again and again until you’re both breathless.

maybe he should call in sick today.

Keep reading

#fic recs #☁️

[usertala]

“Delicate yet irresistible to pick up just like humans….” Reaper design by @bearakero on Twitter!

[usertala]

why is your cat green?

She’s built different 😌

[usertala]

suna rintarou x reader, 3.2k

you drunkenly confess to suna, and he activates your fight or flight instincts

You want to die. You’re ready to throw yourself out the window of your dorm. You almost send a text to your mom telling her how much you love her because the afterlife? That’s where you’re headed.

And no you’re not being dramatic. What you are however, is fucked.

You should have known better than to let yourself get carried away and trying to outdrink the Miya Twins at some stupid party.

Now you’ve woken up with a headache massive enough to compete with Atsumu’s big head. Honestly, this isn’t your first rodeo with hangovers- you’re a college student, and mixed with your inability to say no, parties have become a somewhat weekly thing. Plus you’re sure you can outdrink the Miya’s at some point.

The hangover isn’t the end of the world. The memory of what you did last night however- it’s enough to convince you to give up alcohol forever.

Playing beer pong with your best friend.

Losing because you have the worst hand-eye coordination.

Volunteering for karaoke and singing horrible off-key.

Trying to call for a ride home and dialing the wrong number.

Accidentally calling Suna—

God, you can’t even bring yourself to think about it, but your brain hates you. The vivid memory replays in your head over and over again. You feel sick.

Rin, you had said. I’m so in love with you, you confessed.

You said a lot of other things before that too, but really you just want to remember what Suna had said in response. You don’t think he said anything. Did you hang up immediately? Who the hell knows?

If you remember correctly, Suna was also at another party last night too. You’re hoping he was, because maybe he was also too drunk to even remember anything. Maybe the party was too loud and he didn’t even hear any of it. Besides, there were no missed calls or messages from him after that so you think you have a good chance. Suna was definitely the type to call back after receiving a confession like that.

It’s that hope that pushes you to agree to go to brunch with your group of friends. You know you could skip it and easily blame the hangover to avoid Suna, but one part of you needs to know whether he remembers the confession. You can’t live with the suspense. You have to know right now so you can decide whether to live life as normal again or whether you have to drop out of college, fake your death and move to a different country.

When you get to the brunch spot, everyone is already there. Hope begins to bloom in your chest at the prospect of getting away with it when you arrive and Suna acts normal towards you. And by normal, you mean he immediately begins teasing you.

“Damn Y/N, you tried to outdrink Atsumu again?” he asks, a smug grin on his face as you sit opposite him.

“Too loud, please shut up I’m recovering.” You respond, trying to look disgruntled rather than fucking nervous.

Suna laughs in response, the way he always does when he knows he’s getting under your skin, but his response is comforting.

“It’s ok, I’m recovering too.” he says smoothly, taking a sip of coffee.

You look at him and use what little energy you have to suppress an eyeroll. Suna looks great compared to everyone else at the table; Atsumu is unnervingly quiet as he wolfs down his food, Osamu looks like he might hurl any second, and your friend Miwa is lost in her own world as she stares at the wall.

Suna, of course, looks like a model next to your barely put together outfit consisting of sweatpants and whatever jumper was on your floor. What kind of hungover person has the time to put on a nice jacket, classic white t-shirt and fashionable black pants? Suna Rintarou apparently.

It’s not fair and you’re tempted to say something until you remember you’re trying to keep a low profile (and if you open your big mouth, you might blurt out something that definitely should not be asked over the table in front of everyone).

So you quietly order your food, listen to Atsumu boast about his upcoming game, listen to Osamu about how much he has to do for the week and ignore Miwa when she tries to convince you to run for student council with her. You avoid looking directly at Suna for too long, because you know you’ll end up looking like a tomato.

Brunch ends before you can even comprehend anything, and you’re ready to walk away from the scene with confidence that Suna either doesn’t remember what you said last night, or he’s pretending not to and won’t bring it up. Either way, you’re grateful for one less headache.

When you all get up to leave though, and you’re ready to deuce the fuck out and suffer silently in your room, you hear Suna call out your name.

You hold your breath.

“What’s up?” you ask, turning to him.

“Are you okay?” Suna asks, scratching the back of his neck. His nervous habit he never seemed to grow out of. “You’ve been quiet all morning, when usually you could compete with Atsumu for being the loudest.”

“Yeah, I'll be okay.” you respond, trying to act cool. You are the queen of casual conversations. “Nothing a good nap won’t be able to solve.”

He nods at that.

You nod back.

A heavy silence falls between the two of you, and you think this is the cue for your getaway. “Think I’m gonna go—”

“Actually,” Suna cuts you off and you look at him in anticipation for his next words. He looks nervous, not meeting your eyes as he glares holes into the wall beside him. He fiddles with his fingers. Cracks his knuckles. Takes a big breath. It’s a rare show of hesitance and nervousness for him and a pit of dread starts to build in your stomach.

Fuck, you internally scream, fuck.

Suna clears his throat, seemingly over whatever internal battle he was fighting. He still can’t meet your eyes though.

“You…” he starts, “do you remember anything from last night? Because you called me and—”

Suna doesn’t get the chance to finish the rest of his sentence because you immediately bolt out of the restaurant.

He has always activated your fight or flight response, and though you’re usually up for the challenge, today your body decides this is a flight only option. Despite Suna and his athleticism, you were on the track team for high school and you have never been more grateful for it than today when you sprint like the wind around the streets. You can hear him chase after you, calling your name, how he just wants to talk.

But you will not stop for him. You’re not ready for the talk, especially not when you’re hungover and look like shit. Besides, you’re not sure you can even formulate a convincing lie to get yourself out of it and Suna has always seen right through you.

You run fast enough that he doesn’t seem to be able to catch up to you, and when you spot a small bookstore, you immediately rush inside and hide in one of the shelves in the back. You hope he didn’t see you come inside.

You try to catch your breath, standing there pretending to look at the books while you try to rationalize your situation. You stay there for a good five minutes, then another five just to be safe. Only when the sales assistant gives you a suspicious look do you leave.

You don’t go back to your dorm immediately. Suna knows where you live. Instead, you choose to hide away in Miwa’s dorm and nurse your hangover there. She seems distracted enough that she doesn’t question why you aren’t doing it from the comfort of your own room and you end up spending the night. It’s not until the next morning when she’s running around getting ready for class do you decide to put on a brave face and head home. Thank god you have Mondays off.

For the next week you live in fear of Suna catching you off-guard around campus, so you devise a plan to leave at odd times to attend your classes. You begin taking alternative routes as well, avoiding all the places you frequently go to. You’re extra careful walking home, jumping at every noise that even sounds vaguely similar to him and running away.

Your stupid evasion tactics don’t last long though. After a week of hiding, Suna catches you just as you’re about to leave your apartment to go for a grocery run, corners you at your front door and declares, “You can run back inside and hide, but I’m not leaving.”

You gulp, knowing you're backed into a corner. You live on the fifth floor too, so sneaking out isn’t an option. Shit.

“Hey, what’s up?” you try to ask casually, fake smile on your face.

Suna looks far from impressed.

“You’ve been avoiding me for a whole week. We need to talk.”

You meekly nod, sighing and opening your door wider to let him into your room. If you’re going to be rejected, you’d rather it be in the safety of your own room than in the hallway with your nosy neighbours. You steel yourself for what’s about to happen.

You aren’t a coward Y/N. You were bound to get rejected at one point, let’s do it with a little dignity.

Suna stands a safe distance away from you, standing next to your window while you remain by  the door. You look anywhere but him, hoping he would just get it over and done with.

Suna lets out a sigh when he sees the look on your face.

“Can you stop looking like I’m going to yell at you? It’s just me, I don’t bite.”

“That’s just my face.” you pout. “Besides, I don’t want to have this conversation; can we just drop it?”

“Will you look at me?” Suna says, “You’re making me nervous. And don’t think you can run away just because you’re next to the door.”

You nod reluctantly, but you still won’t meet his eyes. Your cheeks are already starting to heat up.

“You’re really not going to look at me?” He asks, tone softer than usual that you start to feel bad. “I just want to talk to you, I promise. I’m not even angry at you, just— frustrated.”

You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. This is Rintarou, the soft side of him you’ve only been lucky to catch a glimpse of a handful of times; this is the guy that you daydream about, the one who tells you he likes you back in some alternate universe. Rintarou is more terrifying than Suna, because you can never say no to him.

“Y/N, please?” He pleads. “I haven’t seen you in a whole week. Please just look at me.”

Already, you’re lifting your head to look in his eyes. See? This is what he does to you, soft spoken words and you’re already putty in his hands, willing to bend over backwards just to make him happy. Almost like a reward for your bravery, Suna flashes his signature smile at you, and you almost melt.

“Ah,” he says softly, walking towards you and cupping both your cheeks in his hands, “there she is.”

Your cheeks heat up even more, and you try to turn away once more but he holds your head firmly in place.

“Will you be honest with me?”

Do you have any other choice? You nod, slowly, hesitantly, but it’s enough for him.

“Last Saturday night, when there was a full moon, you called me super duper drunk,” he starts, “and said, Suna Rintarou I hate you and your stupid face and your stupid smile and your stupid hands I think about holding all the time, did you mean it?”

Oh my god. You want the ground to suddenly open up and swallow you whole. You want an asteroid to suddenly hit the earth and destroy all living things. Anything  to get you away from the scene unfolding before you.

You stare at the little freckle on his cheek. “Yes.”

“You’re a terrible liar. My mother says I’m very handsome, so why would you call my face stupid?”

In between your thoughts of curling into a ball to feel sorry for yourself and bolting out of the room far away from Suna, you manage to roll your eyes.

“Where are you going with this?”

Suna completely ignores you.

“Moving on, you said, why are you so stupid Suna Rintarou? You’re so stupid when it comes to doing your homework on time and making all those stupid jokes. You always tease me more than anyone else, and it’s not fair that you target me when Atsumu literally exists—”

“Oh my god,” you interrupt, “did you memorize this or something?”

“Studied it better than any of my notes for a test.” he teases. “But don’t worry, I haven't even got to the good part yet.”

You could punch him right now. You really could.

“And after that you said, I hate how you make me feel special like that, you make me delusional enough to think that maybe I am special to you and that’s why you always choose me as your target. I hate that you’ve been blessed with everything but a goddamn brain, because if you did then maybe you’d realize it before I even had to tell you.”

“Maybe,” he heaves out a breath and smiles at you, “maybe if you did then you’d realize that I’ve been in love with you for the past year and a half.” Suna looks into your eyes then, and there’s a glint in his eye you’ve never seen till now. “Rin, you said my name softly like that, I’m so in love with you.”

“I—” you try to start but he’s left you speechless. You can’t believe he remembered everything you said.

“Though, my favourite part is when you said all those sweet things then proceeded to yell ‘you suck!’ into the phone then hung up before I could even say anything.” Suna giggles, he giggles, and you realize he thinks this whole situation is funny. He sobers up quickly, then his eyes seem to start analyzing you, searching for something. “I tried bringing it up with you last week, but you ran away before I could even say anything. And all this time, I’ve just… I’ve been wondering whether you meant it.”

You stare at him blankly, still trying to process his words. You’re sure that you’ve lost all your brain cells in a week because you’re still at a loss of what to say. But there’s nothing left to hide anyway, is there?

“Yes, I meant it. The last part,” you gulp, “I really meant it.”

“The part where you said that I sucked?” he asks, eyebrow raised questioningly.

You scowl at him. “You know what I mean! The last part!”

“The part where you said I’ve been blessed with everything but brains? Or the part where you called my jokes stupid?”

You can’t believe the nerve of this guy. Stupid, stupid, stupid motherfucking Suna Rintarou. You hate the fact that he’s teasing you over your feelings like this.

“You really do suck. So much. You’re the worst person I know. Fine. Yes I meant it, yes I’ve been in love with you for the past year and half you idiot. It’s all true okay.” you finally admit, exasperated. “So can you just stop wasting my time? Reject me already, so I can cry about it and glow up and make you regret your life decisions and—”

“Do you know how long I’ve waited to hear those words from you?” Suna asks suddenly, looking at you so earnestly you stop your rambling. “This isn’t how I pictured you saying it, and honestly I figured I would do it first, but this works too I guess. It was meant to be a lot more romantic, and you weren’t insulting me every five seconds when declaring your undying love for me—”

You cannot believe what you’re hearing right now.

“But… this works too.”  he says. “I’m in love with you too, been in love for a while now actually and I never really knew how to say it. So when you confessed last week, I just thought it was the perfect time to… you know.”

Now he’s the one blushing.

“What the fuck?” is all you can say right now.

Suna can sense that you’re about to ramble and ask a million questions so he beats you to it.

“I think we should kiss right now.” is all he says, before leaning dangerously close to you.

You immediately put your hand on his chest to stop him, effectively stopping him in his tracks.

“Hold on! What the hell, I’m still processing this Rin!”

Suna looks at you in confusion, already pulling you in closer again. “What is there left to process? I waited a whole week for you already!”

“You had a whole week to process my feelings— you’ve given me like five minutes!” you exclaim. “I don’t even think I’m awake right now, quick pinch me so I know it’s real.”

“Maybe if you come and kiss me you’ll know it’s real.” Suna says, stupud smirk on his face. “Come on pretty girl, process it later, I want my kiss.”

“Who says I want to kiss you?” you counter, but your resolve is already crumbling by the second.

He shoots you an incredulous look. “Seriously? You’re going to play hard to get right now? I’m here ready to kiss you and—”

You bolt away from his hold, giggling as you run towards the door but Suna doesn’t let you take more than two steps away from him.

“I’m serious, Y/N. I’ve been thinking about this for the past week, been dreaming about it much longer than that. Can I please kiss you?”

You would be a fool to deny him when you’ve been dreaming of the exact same thing as well. So you offer him a small nod, and that’s all it takes before he pulls you towards him, so gently, as if you’re fragile.

He cups your cheeks in his hands, smiling at you as if you are the sun itself. The light from your window seeps in at that moment and lights up his eyes in a way that makes you fall in love all over again.

He brushes his nose softly against yours, eyes closing as you smile in anticipation. Just when you can’t wait anymore, you feel his lips against yours and you can’t help but melt in his arms, your body flush against him.

You don’t know how to describe what it feels like to finally kiss him. He tastes of mint, lips languidly moving against yours, not too harsh but just enough that it leaves you wanting more and more (you don’t know if you’ll ever get enough of him).

After a considerable amount of time, you both pull away, chests heaving as your foreheads bump against each other.

“Well?” you ask, still basking in the moment as you gaze up at him.

He smiles back. “I’m glad you called me.”

“I’m glad I did too.”

likes and reblogs are appreciated!

#fic recs #☁️

[usertala]

too far away to hold me

Anon asked: bully!samu twisted hurt/comfort,,, where other guys on campus see y/n as easy pickings and try to bully her n somehow the bullying is worse w these strangers ;-(( bc y/n has gotten used to osamu actually

samu doesn't find out until after a while (maybe bc he doesn't ask what's goin on in y/n's life much or she kept it from him) n he's just like 😡😡😡 y/n is MY bully target!!!

you can read all about bully!osamu here if you want context on his relationship with the reader!

this was long-overdue 🥺 i'm finally back in nyc and i'm hoping to update more!!! 🖤

words: 3.3k

cw: fem!reader, bullying, name-calling, physical violence, college au, hair pulling, jealously, possessiveness, toxic relationship, slight dacryphilia, unprotected sex, minors dni

Osamu was getting annoyed.

Noticing that you had been stressed out lately, Osamu decided he’d be nice for once in his life and treat his little cry baby to a night out after class. He waited outside the room for you to come out but you never did. One by one, all your classmates left, and eventually so did your professor. Already growing frustrated, Osamu was about to barge into the room when he heard your voice.

“I told you no, Daishou,” you mumbled softly, grabbing your books. The boy Osamu doesn’t recognize stops you, grip strong on your wrist and that’s when he slams the door open, startling both of you. “Samu—”

Osamu pulls you to his side, barely giving the other boy any attention before getting you out of the room. He doesn’t say a word as he drags you down the hall to his car. Osamu when he’s red in the face and screaming at you was easy to deal with but when he's quiet like this, you’re a bit more worried. “Samu, I told him no—” Osamu turns the car on, interrupting whatever excuse you had ready on the tip of your tongue.

He’s not an idiot, he knows you were trying to push this Daishou kid away. But you were either too nice or too stupid to get the job done. “Who was that?” he asks. Part of him wants to take you back to his place and pound you into the mattress but he figures that could wait, choosing to take you out like he originally planned.

“He’s just some guy in my class,” you explain, twiddling your thumbs, too nervous to look over at him. “I think he wants to go out or something, but I keep telling him I’m not interested.” This gets his attention. Osamu never labeled himself as your boyfriend—you two definitely weren’t dating—but he always felt entitled to you, so hearing that some punk kid trying to come on to you pissed him off.

“Is that all?” Osamu figures you’re hiding something from the way you won’t meet his eyes. Usually, Osamu can’t get you to stop talking about something but you’re keeping your answers short with him today. You let out a small “mmhm…” and Osamu knows there’s more but he decides not to press you.

By the time you two got back to his place later that day, you were exhausted. You were shocked that Osamu bothered to take you out tonight, it’s very rare that he’s so nice —at least, in his way. You could handle the teasing comments made at your expense, it wasn’t anything you weren’t used to. He even seemed to be softer than normal.

The front door slams behind you and strong arms circle your waist. “Samu…” you whine, feeling his along your jawline, thick fingers slipping past your jeans. This also wasn’t a surprise, you were wondering when he was gonna get his hands on you. Osamu had a habit of getting jealous anytime someone else got in your personal space. It wasn’t going to take him long to stake his “claim” on you.

“Been wantin’ to do this all day,” he says against your skin, sighing when he feels the slick folds of your cunt against his fingers. “Keep actin’ like a dumb little girl and someone might steal ya away from me.” You can feel his hardening cock pressed against your ass, timidly palming him from behind which forces a growl from his chest.

You two don’t make it to the bed, Osamu bends you over the kitchen counter and tugs your bottoms off. His lips don’t leave your neck, sucking deep purple bruises into the skin and, knowing him, he won’t let you cover them up tomorrow. His thick cock stretches your pretty cunt, ramming into you over and over. You can’t help the tears that fall from your eyes, running down your cheeks. It brings a sick smile to Osamu’s face.

“There’s my fuckin’ cry baby,” he croons condescendingly, pulling your bra down to get at your breasts. The way you sob as he pulls on your nipples will never fail to get him hard. He could tell you like it too with how your cunt choked his cock whenever he manhandled you. “Dirty bitch, bet you’d let anyone use you, hm?”

You’re gripping the counter, trying not to fall over with how harshly Osamu’s movements are. “Just you,” you keen, pain turning into pleasure just like it always does.

Oh? You’re not always receptive like this, giving into Osamu’s possessive nature. Honestly, he wished you’d fight him more often but Osamu can’t ignore the rush of pleasure coursing through his body upon hearing those words come from your lips. “What was that, stupid? Can’t hear ya when yer fuckin’ mumbling like that.”

His fingers tangle in your hair, pulling your head up. “Just you, Samu!” you cry, tears properly flooding from your eyes now. Your gasps of pain contradict the way you’re clamping down on him with your walls. He groans in your ear, hips moving faster as his cock kisses your cervix. Osamu never warns you when about to cum, not when you make that dumb little look of shock every time he does it. But you always have a tell, your thighs start to shake and you grip the nearest surface for purchase.

Fucked ya dumb already? He thinks as he brings his free hand down to fondle your clit. Osamu’s name falls from your mouth over and over while you cream around his cock, almost falling over yourself if it weren’t for his grip on your hair.

Osamu cums inside you, filling you deep with his thick seed. You let out a whine of discomfort, but Osamu slaps your thigh to get you to shut up. He pulls out, leaving you a trembling, pathetic little thing clinging to the countertop as he watches his cum run down your leg. Just to be mean, he collects some of his spunk on his fingers and fucks it back into your cunt, laughing when you cry from sensitivity.

He helps you off the counter before leading you into the bathroom. He starts a bath for you, grumbling the entire time that you were too dumb to do it yourself. But he’s so gentle helping you into the tub, undressing and settling in behind you. “Kiss me?” you ask quietly. Osamu rolls his eyes, grabbing your face and pressing soft kisses against your lips.

You wish Osamu didn’t make you tag along to these things. It wasn’t that you didn’t like his friends, Kita and Aran were sweet and Suna always had a funny meme on his phone to share, but you’d much rather be at home, trying to convince Osamu to cuddle with you on the couch.

But Osamu didn’t ask you to do things. “Can’t you just go without me?” you had complained, not really wanting to put in the effort of changing out of your sweats.

“The boys want to see ya and last time they bitched the entire time when ya stayed home,” Osamu explained, steam still coming off of him from the shower he just took after getting home from the gym. Osamu wasn’t a huge fan of parties either but his friends invited him out and they wouldn’t leave him alone until he promised to bring you.

You were still whining about not wanting to go when Osamu had grabbed you, pressing you close to his still-naked body. “Don’t get all bitchy with me tonight,” he growled in your ear, rubbing his cock against you. "Be a good little dummy and you’ll get this fat cock.” He humps against your ass, forcing a sigh of pleasure from your lips before he releases you, laughing at how easy it was to rile you up.

Which is how you ended up in some rando’s house, sitting on Osamu’s lap while Suna showed you his favorite TikToks. His old teammates seemed to be the only boys Osamu didn’t mind you getting chummy with. Maybe because they’ve known you two (and his brother) for so many years. They were aware how weirdly possessive Osamu got when you were out of his sight for too long—they had seen it firsthand with how he acted when you were with Atsumu. They knew not to pry about the relationship you two had. Maybe they just knew not to poke a sleeping bear.

The party wasn’t too bad. You chatted up some of your classmates and Osamu even loosened up for once, laughing with his buddies and taking a few shots every once in a while. When Osamu had a bit of alcohol in his system, he was sweeter than usual. He pressed a few kisses to the side of your head, whispering how good you looked in your dress. Suna teased you for blushing and you elbowed him, mumbling “it’s not like that”

“Who’re you trying to convince?” Suna said back, you opened your mouth to tease him when you heard someone calling your name.

“Is that my favorite classmate?” you grimaced once you recognized him, sleazy green eyes meeting yours. Daishou slithered his way from the other side of the room, standing in front of where you were sitting with the boys. “Didn’t think I’d find you here.”

Osamu must have felt your body tense because his arms tightened around your waist, steel eyes glaring at Daishou. “Don’t push yer fuckin’ luck, kid,” he says, alcohol heavy on his breath. Daishou falters for a second but his sniveling smirk is back on his face almost immediately, taking a step as if he’s about to reach for you but Osamu is quick to stop him. “Walk away from her now. I won’t be askin’ again.”

You could tell Daishou wasn’t ready to give up just yet, but his chances against Osamu and three of his teammates weren’t looking great. He gave you a quick wink before heading back into the crowd of faceless people. Osamu was still stewing, grip on you never wavering. Kita and Aran initiate conversation while Suna grabs him another drink. But it’s your hand on top of his that calms him down.

After a while, things are back to normal. You take a few glances at the other party go-oers and can’t find Daishou anymore. For once, you feel relieved and even a bit adventurous. You grab Osamu’s hand, getting his attention. “Dance with me,” His eyebrow quirks.

“That desperate to get me close to ya, dummy?” he slurs, eyes growing heavy. His words hold no venom, it’s second nature at this point to call you that. Osamu doesn’t put up much of a fight when you pull him to the center of the room, holding him close as you sway to the music blaring from the speakers. You’re bound to get an earful tomorrow when he sobers up. He’ll probably take you from behind, taunting you for acting like such a “needy whore” tonight. The thought sends surges of pleasure through your body.

Osamu grinds into you chuckling deeply in your ear while you wrap your arms around his neck. Most people are probably confused when they see you two—Osamu’s mocking you one minute and kissing you the next. The whole time you’re in his shadow, never too far away. You figured out a long time ago that it’s really nobody’s business what you two do at this point, somehow it’s managed to work all these years.

You two danced for a bit more before you pulled away from his side and, almost immediately, his arms reached out for you, a stern look on his face. “I just need to pee,” you tell him and he, reluctantly, lets go of you. He grumbles something about not making him wait before you walk away.

The bathroom downstairs was occupied so you headed upstairs and, thankfully, it was empty. You washed your hands when you were done, thinking about stopping to get another drink in the kitchen before going back to Osamu. You probably shouldn’t make him wait too long but he’s having a good time tonight, so he might just go a bit easy on you today.

You step out of the bathroom, ready to head back downstairs when you feel someone snatch your wrist. For a second, you assume it’s Osamu but the body you’re pulled into feels unfamiliar. You feel your skin crawl when someone whispers into your ear.

“Finally got you separated from your little bodyguard,” Daishou says, crowding your personal space until he has you backed into a wall. You’re quick to open your mouth, ready to tell him that you’re not interested in anything he wants. But Daishou leans in close as if he’s about to kiss you. “Don’t get a fucking bratty with me, I just want to talk.” You want to push him away but you’re frozen, unsure of what to do. Osamu will come to look for you if he notices you’ve been gone too long, right? But he’s been drinking so much tonight, you’re not sure if it slipped his mind.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you say, hand on his chest to try to place some distance between you, but Daishou grabs it, nails digging into your skin.

“Why? Your fucking boyfriend gonna get mad or something?” the way he says the word makes you cringe, which he notices right away. “Not your boyfriend? Then why were you dancing with him like a slut out there?” You pluck enough courage to shove him away, trying to race down the stairs back to your friends when you feel Daishou’s fingers in your hair, tugging you back to him. “Stop being such a fucking bit—”

It happens pretty quickly after that. One second you’re in near tears as Daishou’s pulling your hair at the root, the next Daishou’s on the floor holding his jaw. You look up and Osamu has you in his arms, eyes practically bulging out of his head in anger. He doesn’t say a word while he snatches your hand, forcing you down the stairs and past his teammates who’re dumbstruck. Too drunk to drive, Osamu decides to walk the couple of blocks to his house, dragging you along with him.

“You’re hurting—” but Osamu keeps yanking your arm anyway, not letting you stray too far away. It’s hard to keep up with his pace, every so often you’ll end up nearly tripping on yourself.

“He’s done that before, hasn’t he?” Osamu asks, reaching for his keys with his free hand as you two near the house.

“Never that rough,” you admit, shrugging your shoulders. “Usually he’ll just say mean things to me, never shoves me around like that.” Osamu opens the front door, gestures you inside first before locking it behind him. He’s pissed, angry in a way you’ve never seen him.

He reaches over and grabs you by the jaw. “Why the fuck did ya not tell me?”

It’s hard to look him in the eye but Osamu tightens his grip, forcing you to meet his gaze. “I didn’t think it was a big deal. I mean... you do the same thing.” His hold suddenly loosens, eyes boring into your soul as his brain registers what you told him. “You do the same thing” Now Osamu’s wondering if Daishou’s the only one who’s treated you like this when he’s not around. He wonders how much you’re not telling him.

“Excuse me?”

You furrow your brows at him as if he asked a stupid question. “Oh, come on, Samu. Like you never pulled my hair before? Or spilled beer all over me at a party?” you cross your arms. “Or flipped my skirt up to look underneath?” You must not notice the way Osamu tenses up. Was someone else touching you like he did?

“Who else?” he takes a step close to you, eyes widening as all the thoughts start playing in his head. Has someone else been picking on you? Fucking you? Dumb little y/n that’s always been his to torment? “It’s not just Daishou, who else has it been?”

You wonder what has Osamu so upset but you tell him anyway. You tell him that Daishou’s the only one who’s gone as far as putting his hands on you but that doesn’t stop other people from teasing you. There’s Matsukawa in your chem class who slaps books out of your hands every other day. Konoha who forces you to let him cheat off your exams in calculus. Futakuchi who makes comments about your ass on days you wear a skirt. “They see how we are and they think I’m easy pickings…” You can’t believe Osamu’s never noticed—maybe it’s because people only dare to do it when he’s not around.

Osamu says nothing the whole way back to his house, doesn’t even bother slamming you against the wall and having his way with you like he normally would when he’s pissed off. Little do you know, Osamu is stewing. Your words keep replaying in his mind along with the names of everyone you mentioned.

He’s got some work to do.

The next few days are... weird to say the least. Daishou turns up to class with a busted lip and actively avoids you. No more comments under his breath or trying to grab at you when the professor isn’t looking. You weren’t surprised by that with the way Osamu leveled him to the ground. Daishou definitely isn’t looking for a rematch and you would be lying if you said you weren’t enjoying how he cowered every time he walked past you.

You gripped your books before heading to chem a few days later, knowing Matsukawa would snatch them out of your hands once he got the chance. But as you round the corner, you notice that one of his hands is wrapped up with tape as if he sprained it or something. Instead of tripping you or slapping your books away, Matsukawa pulls your chair out for you and says he’ll carry your books to your next class. Still, you don’t think much of it.

It starts getting really weird when Konoha is offering to do your homework for you. Apologizing for all those times he’s cheated off of you, even asking if he could study with you sometime before taking back his invitation, eyes looking everywhere but at you. But it’s when Futakuchi Kenji walks into class that you’re truly puzzled.

It was a hot day and you groaned when you remembered you had class with Futakuchi today. Whenever you wore a skirt or a pair of shorts to alleviate the heat, you could feel his eyes leering at you. He’d sit next to you and lightly brush the material against his skin. Mumbling an “oops” under his breath he’d grab at your thighs, raking his fingers down them.

But today Futakuchi shows up with a black eye and keeps his hands to himself, not even sparing you one single glance. When you call him out on it, he doesn’t say anything—just looks down at his hand like he’s scared. The few times you two end up brushing against each other, he’s quick to apologize and scoot as far away from you as possible. When class ends, you try to make conversation—to try to understand what’s his damage. But Futakuchi books it once the professor dismisses you all.

Strange.

Little did you know, Osamu’s been keeping himself busy. Tracking down all those boys who think they can lay a claim on you—who thought you would be their little punching bag. Those fucking losers didn’t know who they were messing with. Osamu’s had you in his clutches since the playground. Of course, they didn’t listen at first when Osamu told them to stay the fuck away, but he’s always been good at persuasion.

And now that he has you laid out on his bed babbling about how “fucking good” his cock feels, Osamu can rest easy knowing that nobody will try to mess with you anymore.

You belonged to him and him only.

©sugawarassoulmate 2021 all rights reserved - please do not repost/translate my work on other platforms!

#fic recs #🌧️ #🌥️

[usertala]

bite me!

WARNINGS: 18+ content, minors dni or i’ll bite u

THEMES: mentions of blood, blood drinking, injury

suna rintarou x fem!reader, 17k

SUMMARY: you want to take your relationship with your vampire boyfriend to the next level. but mostly, you just want him to drink your blood.

a/n: ah yes… my one and only spicy longfic. hope you enjoy!!!! there’s a surprise at the end hehe

There’s a good reason why your vampire boyfriend, Rintarou, doesn’t drink from you.

A good reason, you’re sure of it. You just can’t remember it right now.

Right now, you’re losing yourself to the euphoric beat of the music, blaring loudly in the speakers of the club you’re at.

It’s a beautiful night, one you haven’t had in a while because of classes, work, and life in general. But your boyfriend had been adamant on taking you out, saying what’s the point of having all this money if I can’t spoil you, and had whined and whined until you agreed.

You’re glad you did. It’s been so long since you’d gotten dressed in clothes that made you feel hot as fuck. Hell, your jewellery collection has begun to collect dust because you’ve been so busy trying to make ends meet; in the mornings, you’ve taken to getting ready with the bare minimum and skipping all of your typical indulgences. Putting them on tonight felt like the first step in feeling like yourself again, instead of just being a long list of things to do waiting to be checked off.

“Stop thinking,” Suna yells over the music, snaking an arm over your shoulder, “I brought you here to have fun.”

You take a sip of your drink, before putting it back on the table, “I’m having a lot of fun.”

“Then why aren’t you on the dance floor with everybody else?” Suna teases as he pushes you to stand up. “Go on, I’ll guard the table.”

“No,” you shake your head, smiling, “Let’s wait for someone to come back. I want to dance with you.”

Suna’s eyes flicker to the crowd. He smiles, “Guess the world is on its knees for you tonight.”

When you look, you see your friends stepping out of the dance floor, so you happily turn back to him. You extend a hand, “Come on then.”

Suna takes it easily, chuckling as you drag him onto the dance floor.

There’s some top 50 song playing in the background, and Suna leans over to say, “I don’t know how to dance to this song.”

“You don’t have to,” you say, turning around and leaning into his broad chest until your bodies are pressed together, the sweet curve of your ass against his front. “Just follow my lead.”

You move your hips to the beat of the song, and Suna follows, allowing you to lead him into a dance that starts out mindless and descends into something too euphoric for everybody else to see.

It hits you— along with being too busy to go out, you’ve also been too tired to get up to anything with your boyfriend. You go home, share a kiss, cuddle, then pass out. When was the last time you two fucked?

Considering how turned on you’re getting, the only answer is not recent enough.

And with the way Suna’s hands are gliding all over your body, hand sneakily travelling further down, it’s been too long for him too.

Neither of you even have to say a single word out loud. The two of you move out of the dance floor and manage to avoid your friends in the process of finding some dark corner of the club to relieve yourselves.

“You don’t wanna take this back home?” Suna says, his fingers tracing the outline of your hardening nipples. A fucking tease.

You shake your head, pressing his hands against your chest until he’s fully cupping them, moaning at the pressure. “No. I think we’ll end up fucking in the taxi—”

Suna laughs. “And you think it’s better we fuck here than in the taxi? Here, where there’s more people around us to see you with—”

You kiss him just to shut him up. “Everybody’s too drunk to notice here. Besides, I just want something to get the edge off,” and this is where the alcohol plays its part, “I’ll make it up to you when we get home. Please?”

“Since you said please,” Suna rolls his eyes. It’s meant to be sarcastic, but it just comes out fond— after all, you always keep your promises and return good deeds tenfold. You’ll give it just as good as you get later.

Suna finally pulls your dress up, and the relief has you wanting to lean your head against the wall behind you. You don’t. The best part of doing anything sexual with Suna is getting to watch him do it.

It’s the vampire allure, you assume as you watch him slide down your panties and press his fingers against your heat. His hand is smooth, his touch a little cold but it’s just how you like it. He makes you feel so good. He makes you feel so special, being chosen by this creature designed to seduce and get anyone they want for a quick bite, and yet, he’s here with you, giving you what you want—

A loud moan interrupts him, too distant to come from either of you.

The source of it is not too far away. A couple with the same idea as them, clearly.

You snort, ready to turn back to Suna when you make accidental eye contact with one of them. He looks to be about your age, but there’s something about his eyes, something dark and old and compelling—

Oh. The man sinks his teeth on his….partner’s neck and sighs something guttural and deep. Vampire.

Suna’s hand pauses from where it's playing with you as he watches the vampire—the man gets his fill, his partner looking for all the world at the height of pleasure.

You wonder how good it would feel to be in that girl’s place. How does venom feel when it travels through the veins, from neck to heart to pussy?

A hand grasps your cheek, turning your gaze away from the scene and back to your own vampire boyfriend. And once you’re looking at Suna, you find yourself forgetting the scene you’d witnessed.

This, you’ve come to learn, is the vampire allure. Suna’s not the first vampire you’ve met, nor will he be the last, as seen from tonight’s events. But you don't think any other vampire will captivate you like this. Suna’s dark eyes, framed with long wispy lashes, his luscious pink mouth, the way he moves—all of it invites you closer, until you’re close enough to be ensnared.

I should fear this.

Suna tilts his head down, mouth in a beautiful pout. An invitation for a kiss, perfumed with the barest hint of jealousy that has your heart fluttering in your chest. As if you’re the one who could have anyone between the two of you.

But Suna is the vampire here. He’s the one beautiful enough to seduce anyone into his arms, the one suave enough to convince you that they need only one bite, the one with venom that turns anyone into bitches in heat begging to be sucked dry; and yet, no part of you shivers or tries to pull away.

You’re the one cupping his cheek, the one parting his mouth for a dirty open-mouthed kiss, the one who ends up sucking a bruise that heals far too quickly on his neck.

Suna’s fingers start moving again on your heat and the sweetheart that he is, lets you fuck against it. He does this all the time, lets you take and take, like the act of giving was enough for him.

You love him. Your sweet little vampire. You want to protect him, though you know that your human body is too weak in comparison to do any damage to anyone strong enough to hurt Suna. You want to give him everything, have almost given him everything—

Everything, except the very thing all vampires want.

Your blood.

.

.

.

It’s not like the topic of it hasn’t come up before.

Once, early on in your relationship, when everything was new and you were both so, so eager, you had offered it.

You were in bed, half-drunk on each other’s touch and on the way to sobriety. Or at least, Suna was.

He had pulled away too fast for your liking, and when you whined, Suna’s eyes shimmered with delight in the dark, “So needy.”

“For you,” you reached for him, but Suna only dodged with a laugh. “I’m just getting thirsty. I don’t want to accidentally drink you instead.”

It was very cute, but you were awfully horny. He had left you with a singular thought: drink me on purpose.

And like any hungry little thing in the dark, the thought took shape and materialised into desire. By the time Suna came back, it was a fully-formed thing.

“Sorry I took so long, I had to brush my teeth,” Suna said, sheepish but looking very refreshed, “Because of, you know—“

He gestured vaguely, but you understood. To wash the taste of blood in his mouth.

It was considerate and any other time, you would have teased him for it. This time, though, all you could think of was that somebody else had been in your boyfriend’s mouth.

“It’s okay,” you said, feigning nonchalance. You stretched, leaning back on your hands, tilting your neck in a way you knew looked good, and waited until Suna was starry-eyed and mesmerised to continue, “You know…”

“I know,” Suna teased, coming up to you so that he was standing in between your spread legs. His hands came up to rest on your shoulders, but his thumb curled right at your pulse.

It felt like premonition and promise rolled into one touch.

You placed his hand over it, “I wouldn’t mind at all if you wanted to—“

“If I wanted to, what?” Suna giggled, leaning down to brush his nose against yours.

You stole kisses to preface your next words. Only when Suna was pliable and wrapped around you did you say, “You could drink from me, if you want.”

Suna jerked away from you, pulling away so that he could look you in the eye. “What did you say? Do,” He paused, as if searching for the right words, “Do you know what you’re offering?”

“I do know,” you said, trying to pull him back in, but he wouldn’t budge. You smiled, thinking it was his prudish sensibilities acting up. Suna was technically born at the turn of the twentieth century and had insisted that he court you properly before you could even kiss. “I’m serious. Why don’t you drink from me? I can give you however much you need. It would taste good, wouldn’t it?”

“You—“ Suna inhaled sharply, gaze fluttering all over as your words sunk in. His hold tightened, before he exhaled a hard, “No.”

You frowned this time, “Why not?”

“Because!” Suna sputtered, “It’s dangerous. I could kill you, what the fuck. Or worse, I could turn you by accident.”

“But—“

Suna continued, not letting you get another word in, “I could take too much, and you wouldn’t be able to stop me because of the venom.” He shook his head, “I won’t risk you—“

He went on and on, full of distress. Eager to calm him down, you told him you understood, promised you would never bring it up again, and when you laid together that night, you were filled to the brim with regret. You wished you had never said a word.

Looking back, you don't regret it now.

You saw. Suna’s eyes had darkened, black overtaking brown, and looked at your neck like he was wondering how it would taste. Gaze sinking in like fangs.

It was there, even if it only existed in the split of a moment in the dark. Even if it was pushed down a throat, swallowed-up, digested—

Suna had wanted it too.

.

.

.

Armed with the knowledge that Suna would be into it, you set out to convince him.

You do your research, take notes on all the do’s and don’ts, and collect enough information to create a powerpoint so thorough, it could educate all new Vampire-Human couples in the world on “How to Introduce Blood-Sucking into Your Relationship.”

You’re nothing, if not a planner. It’s the only way you’ve been able to make your life work, balancing your rigorous business course, your job, and your social life. You had to be detail-oriented with plans and strategic with your timing.

As such, you plan on talking to Suna when the other is half-awake and vulnerable.

It’s easy enough to find him in this state. Your boyfriend loves to sleep and coupled with his solar-intolerance, Suna is usually still asleep when you get home from work.

You let yourself into his apartment (our apartment, if you consider the amount of time you spend there) and turn on all the lights on your way to his bedroom. You carefully open the door and squint through the dark. Suna is still dead to the world. Good.

You let your  eyes adjust to the dark, before closing the door behind you. You switch the lamp by the bedside on. A soft, orange glow illuminates the room.

You sit on Suna’s bed, slowly pulling the covers back to reveal a sleeping Suna Rintarou. Scary vampire, my ass, you think. You had gotten warnings before about dating one.

They’re selfish, Y/N. Beautiful but vain. And only wants one thing and will stop at nothing to get it.

You almost wish that was the case. If it were, you wouldn’t have to stoop this low to convince your boyfriend to take it.

You stroke his hair, pressing a kiss against his cheek, “Good morning, baby. Wake up, wake up.”

Suna groans, turning away. You are undeterred, chasing him with kisses, “What, you’re not even going to kiss me back? Did you even miss me, huh?”

“You were literally here right before I went to bed,” Suna complains, though he gives you a small little smooch that softens his next words, “I didn’t have time to miss you.”

You remember a time when Suna had been so sweet to you. You’d ask, did you miss me, baby? And Suna would at least say, you were in my dreams, but it wasn’t the same.

You miss the honeymoon era of your relationship, but there’s something to be said about how comfortable you are with each other now. It’s another reason why you think it’s okay to bring up feeding again. You know Suna so much better now. And you’ve changed too, you aren't so eager to smooth things over and pacify. You know how to ask for things now without feeling shame.

“I missed you,” you say, burying your face in the crook of Suna’s neck, breathing him in. He smells just like that vanilla-scented perfume you got him for his birthday.

Suna’s hand threads through your hair, “Hard day at work—mhm!”

His words cut off into a moan, right at the moment you start placing kisses on the skin of his neck. You grins at the affected look on his face.

Suna glares at you, “That was not what I had in mind when you said you missed me. I just woke up, give me a good twenty minutes.”

“Thought you were always ready to go,” you tease, turning your head to kiss the hand that holds your cheek. “Are the years finally catching up to you, old man?”

“I will start crying if you call me old man one more time,” Suna threatens, “You're the one who looks older—“

You kiss him to shut him up. Sometimes, Suna talked too much nonsense.

And for someone who said they needed twenty minutes, he’s kissing back pretty enthusiastically. You push down the duvet separating you, with Suna kicking it away to help. There’s a laugh that dies between you, the moment you get a hand up his shirt.

In terms of seduction attempts, it falls somewhere at the bottom in your experience. You keep having to pause because you’re wearing too many layers.

“Who told you to wear all this?” Suna complains, to which you roll your eyes, “The weather. It’s winter. Next time, I’ll take off all my clothes before I go into your room.”

Suna watches you take each layer off with interest, “That sounds amazing actually. Please tell me more.”

You throw your  shirt at him, “I’m sick of doing all the work here.”

Suna takes the shirt and looks at you with puppy dog eyes. You know it’s fake, but you hate how cute he looks with it. “Really? Because what were you saying the other night? Tell me what you want, Rin, I’ll do anything—“

“You’re so fucking shameless,” you say, covering his mouth. God, you like it so much. And you know Suna knows that too, because the idiot just smiles under your hand.

Suna removes your hand and speaks in teasing pouts, “Yes, I am. Let me kiss you now, Y/N.”

You huff but lean down anyway. Suna rarely makes any demands of you; you find that maybe it’s for the best, for you can’t resist giving him what he asks.

He makes a pleased sound, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, pulling you so that you’re pressed together tight.

“Finally,” you murmur against his mouth. You feel more than hear his answering chuckle.

There’s a hidden purpose to your actions here, yes, but it doesn’t mean you don't enjoy it any less. You kiss with a certain languidness that can only come with familiarity. Sometimes, a mouth can be a home.

Sometimes, a mouth can just be what it is: a mouth, kissing its way down the column of your neck. Here is the point, where you wish Suna would forget all about the rules and just bite. But all he does is press kisses before moving on—

Or tries to. You keep him there with a firm hand on the back of his head and whine, “I like it when you kiss me there.”

Suna groans, a quiet rumble that creates ripples of goosebumps rise on your skin. You breathe in deep, and think that he’lll indulge you a little bit more, but as always, when it comes to your neck, Suna has other plans.

Suna’s hand is halfway down your pants when he says, “Wanna eat you out instead.”

Go right on ahead, you want to say, but you know the moment Suna’s mouth is on your pussy, it’s over. Brain emptied out of everything except for his warm breath and experienced tongue. It would be so good, but priorities.

“Hold on,” you say, stopping his hand from touching you further. “Can we actually talk for a sec?”

“We’re talking right now,” Suna says, giggling at his little joke, but when he sees that you’re serious, he goes, “Y/N, couldn’t you have started with this, before you ambushed me in my own bed and started taking off your clothes?”

You lie through your teeth, “I just remembered! Shut up.”

Suna does as he’s told, running a hand through his messy bed hair. He stares at your topless form with longing, “Can you at least put a shirt on?”

“No,” You say, grabbing Suna’s hands in yours. “It won’t take long, I promise.”

“Okay,” Suna sighs, “What’s up?”

“Before I say it, can you promise not to say no immediately? Like, just hear me out first, okay?” you plead, and only when Suna nods do you continue, “I really, really, really want you to drink from me—“

Suna’s hands try to escape from your hold, but you squeeze it and give him a look that keeps all of Suna’s protests stuck in his throat. “Please?” You beg, because in the name of pleasure you are not above it, “I know you have reservations about it. It can be kind of scary, even for me, who really wants it. But it’s a lot like other things, in the way that we can work up to it, or figure out a way that works for both of us. We can do a lot of things to prepare for it.”

Suna stares at you, and you hold your breath, ready to pull out statistics of accidental turnings slash deaths in consensual Vampire-Human relationships out of your ass. But it doesn’t come. Instead, Suna quietly asks, “Like what?”

You swallow your own eagerness. You don't want to sound like you’re gagging for it. “I was talking to people about it, but you can try to get used to the taste of my blood or even the smell of it,” you bite your lip, “Or the first couple of times we try it, someone could be there to watch.”

Suna doesn’t seem convinced but doesn’t say anything.

At that, you continue, “I think it would be really good for us. I thought long and hard about it, and I’ve wanted it for the longest time. I know the risks, but it would be worth it, I think.”

He sighs, which is starting to sound like hope—until he says his next words, “Why do you want it? Is it just a sex thing? Are you getting bored?”

“What?” you ask, a little appalled at the insinuation. Well. It’s not completely wrong, but Suna doesn’t need to know that. “No, I just want it. It doesn’t even have to be a sex thing unless you want it,” you look down at your intertwined hands, “I just want to be able to provide for you. You always spoil me with gifts, take me out to such nice places, and make sure I’m not dying of stress from all my obligations. I love you. I want to take care of you for once.”

Suna’s frown deepens, and you can’t help but reach over to rub the corner of his mouth. “Don’t be mad at me—“

“I’m not mad at you,” he sighs heavily, pulling your hand away, “For the record, you do take care of me all the time. I’m just worried, because I love you, you idiot.”

“And I trust you. I’ve gotten all the warnings. I’ve done the research. I know the risks, but what can I do? I still want to try. If anything goes wrong, we can stop and forget about it. But let’s at least try.” you hum, “Please? For me?”

Suna makes a displeased noise before letting himself fall against his pillows, “I’m going to regret this.”

You laugh, parts happy, parts relieved. You follow his movement, pressing kisses to his cheek, “I’m not going to let you regret this. It’s going to be so good. Baby, we’re going to feel so good.”

.

.

.

You actually have a powerpoint that you eventually show Suna.

“Please pay attention,” you say, watching the words, Blood Drinking, spin its way to the screen. Yes, you’re using transitions in this powerpoint. Yes, you spent an hour making said powerpoint. No one better fucking judge. “I worked hard on this.”

Suna squints at the laptop, like a man would look at a dead body—filled with morbid curiosity, “Alright.”

He clicks on the space bar and together, you watch as the slide flips into the next one. The word, PROS, guarded by two vampire emojis slides into the center. He clicks the space bar again and slowly the words, HOT, SEXY, we would <3 love <3 it, i would be a literal snack, fade into existence.

“You—” Suna turns to you in judgement, but you raise your hand to silence him, “I’m right and you know it!”

“A literal snack?” Suna asks with raised brows.

You sniffs, “I already am metaphorically. But if you bite me, nobody would be able to deny it.”

Suna rolls his eyes, “Everybody already thinks you’re hot. Show me your cons.”

You hit the spacebar. CONS slowly fades into view. So does a tiny little coffin emoji.

“You’re terrible,” Suna groans, but you’re not done yet, “Wait, there’s more—”

You hit the spacebar again, and sentence by sentence, these words fly in:

i could die (but in a sexy way).

but you would be sad (not in a sexy way).

Suna closes his eyes, and you have to hit his shoulder, “It’s kind of funny. Please laugh.”

“The High Vampire Council is going to put a stake through my heart if you die, Y/N. I feel a little stressed,” he shields his face from view.

“But I’m not going to die,” you reassure him, and then pause as a tiny existential crisis passes through you, “I mean, I will, someday. But not until you suck me dry—”

.

.

.

The Carrd masterpost on safe blood drinking you found on the internet said to start small.

Get your vampire used to your blood.

And so when you accidentally cut yourself while making dinner, you call Suna over immediately.

“Smell this,” you instruct, pushing your bloody finger towards him. Suna covers his nose, “No, thank you.”

You gape at him, “Why are you covering your nose?” you huff, looking at your finger before bringing it up to your nose. It doesn’t smell like anything. Just good ‘ole coppery blood. And then it occurs to you, “Oh, is it because it smells too good? If so, I completely understand.”

Suna pinches his nose, like he’s smelling something bad, “Sure, babe. That’s exactly it. What blood type are you again? Type A, huh? Gotta say, my favourite is Type O—”

You turn away, running your finger through water to clean the cut. You can’t believe you were born a Type A. How could they do this to you and the love of your life?

Arms wrap around your waist and a chin is placed on your shoulder. Against your ear, Suna  whispers, “I’m just kidding. It smells pretty good, actually.”

“You’re so nice,” you sulk, “If it smelled good, then why were you so unaffected, huh?”

“Because I’m well-fed. And smell alone isn’t going to make me the deranged vampire you’re seeing in whatever vampire porn you’re watching—“

“I do not watch vampire porn—“

Suna just ignores you, “I’d have to be starving for days.”

You turn to him, but he’s not even looking at you. He’s looking at your finger, clean of blood though the cut is still there. He continues with a sigh, “And it depends on the source, really. I don’t know why, but it tastes better right at the pulse.”

You look at your finger, “So not there?”

Suna burrows against your neck, “No, it would be better by your wrist,” and inhales deep, “the best here.”

You bite your lip, steeling yourself against the kitchen counter, and say, “Stop, I still have to eat,” but you don’t mean it.

“I know,” Suna murmurs, moving away. “I’m hungry too.”

It’s so unfair how you have to work up to it.

Ever since the possibility of it opened up between you, Suna’s been less restrained. Fidgeting with necklaces you wear, staring at your neck, and looking like he’s a breath away from devouring you just like he did now. You feel heated at the thought.

“Go then,” you say, pushing him towards the fridge where you keep his blood supply. “We can try it another time.”

You feel like you can only breathe once he’s out of the kitchen.

.

.

.

False starts and stupid Carrd masterposts aside, they take their first step at some house party.

You had just finished taking a shot of vodka, when Suna came up to you to whisper, “Don’t drink too much tonight.”

You don't think too much about it, thinking that maybe he’s just reminding you that you got a bit too drunk last time and had to haul your ass up several flights of stairs.

Unfortunately for him, you still get a little bit drunk. Get a little more drunk as you play a bit of beer pong with your friends. Totally fucking drunk by the time you spill somebody else’s can of beer on the floor. At the end of the night, you’re sloppily making out with Suna on the couch until somebody yells at the both of you to get a room.

And because you’re you, you drag your boyfriend to a room. A bathroom. Which is still a room.

God, you’re so drunk. You giggle against Suna’s shoulder as he tries to support your weight.

“I thought I told you that you shouldn’t drink too much,” Suna pushes you until you’re resting against the counter, “Sit here.”

It takes some coordination for you to pull yourself up, so that you’re sitting on the counter. “Rin,” you say, super happy in a way only you could be without your inhibitions, “Love you.”

“I love you too,” he replies, highly amused. “Can’t even be mad at you when you look so cute. You’re rarely relaxed like this.”

You pout, wrapping your arms around him, “What do you mean? I’m always relaxed when I’m with you. Because I loooooove you.”

Suna laughs, tucking your hair behind your ear. It pricks at your tender heart. Your boyfriend is so sweet. You should do something for him. Something super romantic, like suck his dick.

Your brain catches up to you, “Why didn’t you want me to drink? Drinking is fun. I wish we could get drunk together. How come you can’t get drunk?”

“I can,” Suna rolls his eyes. “If I drink from someone drunk, then I can get drunk.”

You sit up straight, “So? Drink from me then.” You offer up your neck so fast you end up bumping your head against the bathroom mirror behind you.

“That was my plan,” Suna rolls his eyes, as he massages the back of your head. “But you’re a little too intoxicated right now, babe. I can’t believe Ihave to be the responsible one tonight.”

You pout, “It’s your turn to be responsible. I’m tired of being the responsible one in this relationship.” For some reason, because everything is delayed maybe, you realise what he just said, “Wait, what do you mean that was the plan? You were going to bite me? Rin, what the fuck?”

You shake his shoulder, to which he only laughs, “Sober up then, babe. I’m not biting you while you’re this intoxicated.”

“But,” you whine, “You know I’ve been wanting this. Rinnie.”

“Y/N,” Suna says, trying to be stern but failing. “Sober up a little at least. Drink some water.”

You whine, “We fuck even when I’m drunk. How is this different? If it’s consent you want, I’m giving my enthusiastic consent right now. Bite me, bite me!”

Suna eyes widen as he hurriedly covers your mouth, “Shut up, people can hear you. I swear, you lose your shame when you’re drunk.”

You lick the hand covering your mouth and Suna hastily takes it away, wiping it on yout jeans. You laugh, “I’ll sober up if you kiss me.”

Suna frowns, but doesn’t say anything when you cup his cheeks and pull him in for a filthy kiss. You part open his mouth, licking into it as his hands find their way to your ass. In return, your own hands move to his ass and squeeze hard while he yelps in surprise.

“Be gentle,” Suna pulls away from you with a glare, breaking the string of spit connecting your mouths with the swipe of his fingers.

You massage his ass in apology, though you say, “I thought you liked it when I played with your ass—“

Suna lowers his gaze, mumbling, “Only when you use your mouth…”

You lick your lips as you look at him. So cute. Considering all the nasty shit you’ve already done with each other, there really is no reason for him to be so shy. God, he’s the cutest one-hundred plus year old virgin-looking non-virgin you’ve ever seen. You imagine the bitch that took your boyfriend’s virginity and curse them. Lucky bastard.

Suna looks back up at you and says a stunner of a one-liner, “I’m hard.”

You laugh and finger the button of his jeans, “And what do you want me to do about it?”

Suna grumbles something you’re far too drunk to hear. “What’d you say?”

“I said, you’re kind of annoying. You’re even worse when you’re drunk,” Suna repeats with a roll of his eyes.

You cup his cheeks, pulling him close and giving him a big fat smooch, “It’s because you’re too cute when you’re annoyed at me.” his frown deepens, and you kiss him, again and again and again, until he’s pliant again. You don’t even fight the urge to smirk when you say, “I’m sorry, baby, I’ll take care of it—“

And then promptly unbutton his jeans and finally, finally touch him.

“S-shit,” Suna squeaks, before covering his mouth and muffling all the sweet noises he’s making. Hmph. Acting like this when he’s already leaking pre-cum all over your hand. You want him to give in. You want your beautiful boyfriend to fall apart right in front of you. You want to swallow him whole and cum in your mouth.

You hold him tight by the base, and it has Suna whining, “Why did you stop?”

“Because,” you hop off the counter and push him against the wall of the bathroom. Kneeling in front of him in lieu of an explanation as you press a kiss against the head of his cock, smearing cum against your lips. You lick your lips, swallowing the taste as you look up into his eyes, “Taste so good.”

“You’re the fucking worst,” Suna groans, his head hitting the wall behind him. You’re smug as you kiss all the way from the tip down to the base of his cock, licking all the way up before finally, finally putting him in your mouth.

Suna has a pretty everything, and his cock isn’t an exception to that. Pink and curved and surprisingly big. You love it in your mouth, the weight of it on your tongue, love it even when it hits the back of your throat. It’s worth it for the overwhelmed look on Suna’s face when he sees you’re stuffed full of his cock.

You moan, mouth full, when his hand fists through your hair. “Y/N,” Suna  says, hoarse and on the edge of desperate, “Can you—?”

Anything for you, you want to say, but it’s not something that needs to be said. You hold tight onto his hip as you swallow him whole, hollowing your cheek as you come back up. You stroke where your mouth can’t reach, swirling your tongue around the tip.

Suna warns you when he’s close, but he doesn’t pull you off. He never does. Suna shivers as his orgasm rips through his system and you swallow it all until, sucking him until he’s milked dry.

You’re wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, when Suna pulls you up by your shirt and kisses you hard, all teeth and tongue. Even with his cum in your mouth, he doesn’t mind the taste. He never has. When you had curiously asked, he had only said, like the taste of you and me together.

He pulls away by a sliver, keeping his hands on your cheeks, “Y/N, tell me how drunk you are right now.”

“I’m alright,” you say, and it’s true. Sucking dick is always a sobering experience. “Less drunk than I was when you pulled me in here.”

Suna looks at you, like he’s weighing your words for how much truth they hold. “I want to try feeding from you tonight.”

You swallow, a wave of heat going through you. God, you were already soaking wet from sucking him off. You’re so horny you might cum without him even touching you. Like a fucking loser.

“At home?” you ask weakly.

Suna shakes his head, “No, right here. It’ll be better. If something happens, there’s a lot of people to help us out.”

You breathe in deep, “Oh, okay.”

They’re doing this. Right now. This is not how you expected the night to go, but you're not complaining. Though, your brain is also too overheated to think of anything else right now. “Tell me how you want me.”

Suna replies, “Sit back down on the counter. That way, in case it’s too much, you’re already sitting down.” He frowns, “I don’t think I should bite your neck—”

“Why not?” you blurt out.

“Because,” Suna says, uncharacteristically stern, “It’ll be too much for me. I just want a taste anyway.”

Suna takes your hand instead, pressing a kiss to the centre of your palm before moving down and stopping at your wrist. Mouth against a pulse. Kisses, kisses, kisses.

“Is that supposed to ease the pain from the bite?” you ask.

Suna looks up, but doesn’t move his mouth away. You feel the words as they’re spoken, “No. This is just foreplay.”

Only then do you feel something sharp poke at your skin, the sensation light before it sinks into your skin. It hurts so much, just as you’d been warned, just as you’d talk about prior, but only for a brief, brief moment, before what must be the venom coming through to soothe the pain. It has you relaxing at a pace that’s almost dizzyingly fast.

The pleasure spreads through you in waves, has you forgetting where you are, and the world narrows down to the point where his mouth meets your wrist. Suna’s eyes are closed, brows furrowed, and it looks so much just like an open-mouthed kiss if one were to simply glance.

Or maybe not. You don't know how you look, but if it matches how you feel, there’s no way anyone would think Suna was just kissing your wrist.

You feel him suck harder, and another wave of pleasure hits you. It’s strong enough that you almost fall back against the mirror, if not for his hand catching you back. The movement pulls Suna away from your wrist and he comes off with a bloody mouth. Lips and fangs covered in red, a single drop of blood dripping down his jaw.

You reach over, wiping the blood off his jaw with your thumb before pushing it into his mouth.

Suna sucks until it’s licked clean. Then he moves on back to your wrist, not letting a single drop of blood go to waste.

Your wrist throbs, pain flooding back in now that the venom isn’t pumping through you. You’ve only got one thought in mind, though.

“How was it?” you ask.

Suna licks his lips, still eyeing your wrist.

“Baby?” you call again and this time, Suna looks up, a hint of red in his eyes. He blinks a couple times and it takes a moment, but his eyes clear and turn back to brown.

Suna’s expression turns to worry, “Babe, are you good? Did I hurt you?”

“I’m fine,” you say, though you wince when you move your arm back to your lap. “It’ll heal. What did you think?”

“Are you sure?” Suna asks, looking guiltier by the second.

You pull him into a hug, “I asked for it. It did hurt, but then it felt good. I enjoyed it.” When you pull away, you lean forward to kiss him before rethinking it. You haven't quite thought about how you feel about tasting your own blood. You shake your head and put on your most reassuring smile, “I wouldn’t lie to you. I enjoyed it a lot. Ten out of ten, would recommend, would do it again.”

It gets him to ease up and laugh, which means you’ve properly done your job. “Now tell me if you liked it or not,” you pouts.

Suna turns bashful under the question, shrinking into himself. “Isn’t it obvious? Of course, I liked it.”

“So you would do it again?”

“Yes,” Suna confirms, wrapping his arms around your waist. Then, he confesses in a whisper, “It scared me though. How good you taste.”

“Why would you be scared?” you ask, running his hand down Suna ’s back. “You stopped like you said you would. I’m fine.”

Suna shakes his head, “I’m scared because I don’t think I can go back to drinking anybody else’s.”

Well. You don’t have a problem with that.

.

.

.

You wouldn’t normally characterise yourself as the jealous type. You’re not, you swear. At least, not the type of jealous person you’d often see in some teenage rom-com. You trust your boyfriend wholeheartedly. He chose you when he could have literally anybody else.

He deserves better too. You don't know who, but maybe someone of his own kind. Someone who will live longer or forever. Someone rich, worldly, and older who can take care of him properly.

Deep down, you know this to be true. But you’re not magnanimous enough to do anything serious about it, like break up with him to see him free. Quite frankly, you’re too greedy to be selfless, and you want him too much to ever give him away. Besides, he goes wherever you want to go. He’ll be yours for as long as he wishes to be.

So, no. You’re not going around like some crazed asshole, glaring at other women for eyeing your boyfriend’s cute ass.

But… It doesn't mean you don't get jealous. You just internalise and bury it deep enough, so that Suna can’t ever sense it.

(That’s a problem for a different day.)

This, though—watching Suna drink somebody else’s blood—you just can’t let it go.

It’s ridiculous, you know. Suna’s not even sinking his fangs in someone else’s neck. He’s literally drinking blood provided by his clan. Government-sponsored, citizen-donated blood. And yet. And yet.

You kind of hate it.

All it literally is, is food for Suna. That’s what you know your boyfriend would say if you were to ever breach the subject with him.

But it always felt more than that.

Blood keeps Suna healthy and full and in control. It keeps him going, and you want to be the main provider of that. Suna should eat well, and is there anything better than your blood?

Of course, it’s about love.

Though if you’re really being honest, it’s about possession too.

You want to be the person Suna thinks of when he’s hungry and wanting. When he feels empty and aching, You want to be the person that fills him, whole and to the brim.

After all, what is possession deconstructed but your own desire to be needed?

It was something you could ignore when Suna had been adamant about not feeding from you, but now that you’re working up to it, you can’t help but want it. Be the only thing he drinks.

When you spot Suna about to take a sip from his blood bag of the night, you stop him, “Wait—”

Suna  looks at you wide-eyed, “What?”

You swallow, cursing your mouth for speaking faster than you could think. Your hands fidget awkwardly at your side, “I know we’re still working up to it, but, I was just thinking—”

Suna’s surprise melts into fondness, eyes from full moons to crescents, “Always thinking. What is it now?”

“I said I was just thinking,” your own nervousness melts too as you flash him a glare, “that maybe you should try feeding from me again?”

Suna eyes your wrist, still bandaged, still healing, “You haven’t even recovered. And I’m still not biting your neck.”

You immediately frown, “My other wrist is fine. You can bite me anywhere else. I don’t care.”

Suna scans you, all the way down to your toes, and asks, “Did you eat properly today?”

“I always do,” you snort. “I slept well, exercised well, paid attention in class well too, Mom—”

Suna makes a face, “Don’t say that—”

You join him, to where he’s sitting on the couch, and offer your unmarred wrist, “I wouldn’t offer it, if I didn’t think I could handle it.” A lie, maybe. You want to give as much as Suna  would take, regardless of if you could handle it. “I trust you.”

Suna raises a brow, “I am hungry, you know?” He shakes the little blood bag he has in his hands and says, “It would be better if I drank this first.”

Your jaw tightens, and your annoyance must show beyond that because Suna laughs at you, “You’re ridiculous. You know it doesn’t mean anything to me, right? It’s just food. Think of it as me having you for dessert. Saving the best for last.”

Food. Just as you predicted he would say.

Suna leans over and you tilt your cheek, expecting a kiss there. But the kiss never lands on your cheek. Instead, you feel it on your neck, like the brush of a butterfly’s wing. “I want it too,” Suna murmurs, “Just be patient.”

You feel heat run through you, and the gesture almost placates you. Almost.

Maybe it’s worth a conversation.

“Hey babe?” you start, avoiding his gaze. “Can I be honest for just a bit? And then you do that thing where you listen and you don’t judge and you keep loving me?”

You feel Suna slowly hooking your pinkies together. This time, you get the kiss on the cheek you were expecting earlier. It’s soft and lingering and accompanied by his promise, “Always.”

You nod and finally continue, “I don’t know why, but I don’t like it when you drink other people’s blood. I mean, I kinda know why, but it’s super irrational—“

Suna squeezes your hand.

You try to explain anyway and pray you don’t sound ridiculous, “It’s like…sex,” though when Suna raises a brow, you immediately backtrack, “I mean! It’s a metaphor. Okay, I am not explaining this properly—“

Suna laughs, stroking your cheek with so much fondness, “Y/N, you’re fine. I’m following, keep going.”

You take a deep breath, “Letting you and wanting you to drink from me feels like we’ve stepped into a deeper level of intimacy.” You looks down at your joined hands, “So, in a way, it is like sex, where I want it to be an exclusive thing just between the two of us. Where I’m the only one you want to do it with.

You shrug, like you didn’t just admit to wanting to be Suna’s one and only blood bag forever and always, “I don’t know, that’s just what I want, but obviously, thinking clearly and logistically, there will be times where you can’t drink from me. Because I could be sick or gone or whatever—“

“Okay,” Suna says, stopping you mid-ramble.

You stared at him, “Okay?”

Suna nods, “Okay. We can do it, but you have to be understanding when I have to drink from the blood bag, okay? I…agree,” Suna pauses, like he’s trying to figure out how to word it too. “I see what you mean when you say it’s like sex, but Y/N, it’s different too. Biting is different from when I drink out of a blood bag. Baby, look at me. Look at me.”

“I’m looking,” you bite your lip.

“You are the only one I want to do this with,” Suna says earnestly. “Okay? You’re my dream come true.”

“That’s,” you sniff, “You’re my dream come true.”

Suna presses your foreheads together and says, “So, let’s do it. Just you from now on, except for the times where we really can’t. Alright?”

It’s fair.

.

.

.

It’s addicting.

Suna  starts feeding from you on a semi-regular schedule. Usually from your wrists. One time…on the meat of your thigh.

Always avoiding your neck.

You do it hours after Suna first wakes up, close to when you’re about to go to sleep.

You’re getting used to the pain, that first sharp bite feels more like a sting now, and it’s just become something to expect. You’ve come to like it actually, but you wonder if that’s just a pavlovian reaction to what comes after—euphoria.

That, you’re still trying to wrap your mind around. Suna’s venom is designed to make his prey weak and willing, to take the struggle out of feeding. It feels sickening to think about, but you know that’s not how it is for you.

You’re already so willing and he’s no predator. Sometimes, when Suna struggles to pull away, too drunk and dazed from the taste of your blood, you think it’s the other way around.

Or maybe, it’s both.

A mutual addiction neither of can help but lose yourselves to.

.

.

.

“You look like you’re in a very good mood,” Hina comments when you meet up at your favourite cafe. “You have that glow.”

You’re on the side of the table closest to the window so you ask, “Do you mean the sun? Shining on my face?”

You pose for Hina.

She gives you a disgusted look, “No. I mean, you look happy. And relaxed. Like the permanent stick up your ass has been pulled out for once. What’s new with you?”

“Nothing’s new with me,” you squint at her, “But I am happy. In general. School’s the same. Work’s the same. Boyfriend’s the same.”

Hina opens her mouth before decisively shutting it. You’re suspicious, “What? Say it.”

“We’re in public, so I decided to hold it in,” Hina says, like she’s finally decided to learn shame. Must be the influence of her two so-called angelic boyfriends. Or maybe not, because Hina leans close to whisper, “Did you finally tell your boyfriend about your biting kink?”

Ah, there’s the Hina you know and love.

You narrow your eyes at her, “Dude. I told you that in confidence. How dare you bring it up in broad daylight?”

Hina makes a face, “Maybe it isn’t the biting kink then?”

“You also have a biting kink!” you whispered threateningly. You found that out about each other at one drinking game, at some party, where you got voted most likely to be a monsterfucker. It was so embarrassing, but Hina had patted you on the back and said, me too. Made you feel a little bit less embarrassed.

It changed your friendship. Made it stronger for some reason. You knew you could be honest with her, because you were the same. Something about birds of the same feather flocking together or some shit like that.

Hina simply shrugged, “I have both a vampire and a werewolf as a boyfriend. I think that’s pretty obvious.”

“No, it’s not,” you argue, if only to get one over Hina, “You might just be a big Twilight fan.”

You and Suna giggle over it often. Suna (not so) secretly refers to Hina as Bella Swan, which causes her so much grief. Hina already isn’t a fan of romance movies, but the constant Bella Swan comparisons drove her over the edge. It was hilarious.

Hina’s nose flared, “Weren’t we talking about you?”

You stretch in your seat, arms raised above your head, which causes Hina to gasp, “It is the biting kink.”

You immediately kick her, looking around to see if people heard her, but thankfully, everyone is busy minding their own business. You hold your hands in your lap and hiss, “Shut up!”

It looked like the clouds had parted for Hina, understanding setting in like the sun. “That’s fucking why Rintarou was at Oikawa’s apartment that one time. Your boyfriend was asking my boyfriend for advice.” You want to wipe Hina’s smug expression from her face. “I always did find it weird that he never fed from you. I just figured he had Victorian sensibilities.”

You struggle not to confirm it. Suna did have something akin to Victorian sensibilities, though that didn’t stop him from being absolutely nasty in the bedroom.

“It’s complicated,” is what you sigh out. “We’re figuring it out. He’s just scared he’ll lose control and I wouldn’t be able to tell him to stop, ‘cause I’m too high on venom. It makes sense that he talked to Tooru, no wonder he’s been so firm about things.”

“It’s funny, because I know you’re a responsible person,” Hina muses, “But I also know you have zero impulse control sometimes.”

You groan, running a hand through your hair, “I do and I don’t. When it comes to the things I want, I really don’t have it. So he’s the one who has to stop before it gets too much. Can’t believe it’s come to this. My boyfriend is my impulse control.”

Hina sips her tea, “Well, you look like you’re enjoying it either way. Sometimes, Tooru bites me when I’m stressed, so I can relax. He does it for Haji on days when he’s restless and about to turn during a full moon. Different uses. It’s the best during midterms though. You should try it. Very relaxing.”

“Ah, well…” You scratch your head, “We usually just, you know,” gestures vaguely, “when I’m stressed.”

“Ahhh,” Hina nods, grinning like a demon, “You guys talk it out and enjoy a nice cup of tea together. Yes, that sounds very, very relaxing.

You roll your eyes, “You know what I mean. Don’t make me say it.”

“If you say it, I’ll give you a tip,” she offers. “You’re twenty-three years old. You can say it.”

There’s not enough alcohol in your system right now that would allow you to tell her that Suna fucks the stress out of you. At least, not in those exact words.

“Shut up,” you turn away from her. “We haven’t even worked the feeding thing while we’re doing it. Don’t know if that’s something Rin wants.”

Hina purses her lips, “Well, you could just ask.”

After you’ve made the whole blood drinking thing about love and intimacy and exclusivity?

Sure. You’ll ask at the next blue moon.

.

.

.

Or you’ll ask never. You are absolutely content right now.

“I think I’m getting spoiled,” Suna says, patting your hair.

You’ve just finished another feeding session, and you were this close to falling asleep. The ache in your arm was tolerable enough, and it helped that he was taking care of you right now too. Ever since he started feeding on you, he’s began to do the following:

He’d bring you lucozade to get you rehydrated again. He wipes the bite mark with a warm washcloth, cleaning it, and then bandaging it up. He’d even kiss it, just to help it ‘heal’ faster. And then he’d run his hands through your hair continuously until you fell asleep. Just like he’s doing right now.

“What are you getting spoiled with?” you asked, nuzzling your cheek against your favourite pillow: Suna’s thighs.

“Your blood,” he sighs, “Just thinking about how you’re going on that trip with your family, and how I’m going to have to go back to drinking my blood bags.”

You giggle, “You still drink those though?”

It’s funny how whatever weird feelings you’ve had about him drinking other people’s blood has disappeared now that you’ve come to an understanding about it. It’s nice. Maybe communication is key to a healthy relationship.

“I do,” Suna grumbles, “But it’s like the difference between eating frozen food versus food cooked fresh. Drinking yours would always be better.”

“Ah,” you tease, still too sated from the venom to sound anything but light, “So it’s not that you prefer my blood. You just like it fresh. To think that I was going to get my blood drawn, so you could still drink mine until I came back. Nevermind.”

“Oh,” Suna’s hand stops stroking your hair, which makes you whine, “You were going to do that for me?”

Suna’s eyes are so pretty, so starry when he’s touched. You reach up to brush his long hair away from his eyes. He should really get a haircut soon. “Of course. Gotta take care of my baby, always.”

“You’re the best,” Suna chuckles. When he leans down, you taste laughter in his kiss. “What a good girl.”

You snort, pulling away and covering your face, “It sounds funny when you say it.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Suna whines, following you with his puppy dog eyes, “It’s sexy. Or it can be sexy.”

“Okay, okay,” you say, unable to stop teasing him, “If you say so.”

Suna ’s frown deepens, and you can’t help but wrap your arms around him (doesn’t matter how sore it feels). “Rinnie,” you laugh, “You’re so cute. I’m gonna miss you when I’m gone.”

“I won’t miss you. Only your blood,” Suna declares.

But when you leave in the morning, Suna is pressing kisses all over your face.

A prelude to longing—his mouth saying, I’ll miss you, over and over again.

Really, how can you ask for more than this?

.

.

.

It’s a fun trip with your family.

A week long trip in Bangkok, Thailand.

You eat your heart out. Pretend like you’re a kid again. Take a couple pictures for your parents.

Thailand is beautiful, and you make sure to capture it on film, very much excited to share it with your friends and your boyfriend.

Thailand is also two hours early, which means you have more time in waking hours to catch Suna awake. It’s especially nice for you, who misses him.

You’ve never really thought of yourself as a clingy person by nature. But practically living with someone, seeing them all the time makes you get used to having them in your everyday life. And to add to the fact, Suna wasn’t just anybody. He’s got your heart.

And even worse, you know Suna misses you too.

Still, you remind yourself. It’s only a week.

.

.

.

And what a week does to a person.

You come home to a sleeping Suna, and he’s not even mad that he’s woken up early.

Instead, he blinks through the milky white film of sleep and gives you a heart-throbbing smile, “Baby, you’re back.”

“I’m back,” you say, happily letting him pull you down for a kiss. The kiss begins sweet but soon ends up open-mouthed and eager, like your one-week separation has made both of you forget what the other’s kiss felt like and you were desperate to remap what you had known before.

Soon enough, Suna’s got a leg wrapped around your hip, his hand on your ass, and when he grinds his hard cock against your pussy, he lets out a low moan that has you growing wetter than you already are.

“Shit,” you curse, closing your eyes as you press your forehead against his. “I want you. Missed you. Please”

“Me too, me too,” Suna says, unable to stop touching you. Hands tangling in your hair, wandering up shirt, caressing warm skin. “Fuck, want you too.”

You waste no time. You press one hot kiss against his mouth hurriedly removing your clothes. Suna ’s shirtless and pushing his pyjamas off.

You finish taking your shirt off and are met by the sight of Suna stroking his cock, watching you hungrily. You raise a brow, removing your panties slower than you normally would’ve, and are rewarded with his whines, “Hurry up. I’m going to cum by myself if you don’t get here right now.”

“Go on then,” you say as you step out of your underwear, “You say that like I don’t enjoy watching you play with yourself. Besides, I know you can go again. Maybe I’ll suck you off too—”

“Shut up,” Suna says, frustrated. His legs fall open, his head falling back against the pillows of their bed. You bite your lip. You’re saying all this shit, but you don’t think you can wait either.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder, people often say, but fuck, absence makes you so goddamn horny too.

You quickly join him in bed and are welcomed with open arms and open legs. “Missed this,” you murmur, reaching down to push away his hand. “Let me do it.”

“I’m gonna lose it if you touch me,” Suna whimpers, but you ignore it. Suna is hot and wet in your hand. “Baby,” He pants.

“Hold on,” you try to pull away, but Suna’s got a tight grip on your hair. “Babe, you have to release me, so I can get on top.”

Suna’s grip loosens, and you find yourself sitting up on your knees. It’s hard, because he keeps kissing whatever part of you he can reach, but you eventually manage, climbing on top of his lap.

Suna’s hands start rubbing your inner thighs, moving closer to where you need him most and intending to tease your puckered hole, but when he slips a finger, it meets no resistance and he groans.

“Fuck baby,” he whimpers, “you’re this wet for me already?”

“Rin,” you’re out of breath, every inch of skin feeling like it’s being set on fire. You need him. Now.

You’ve underestimated Suna Rintarou’s ability to be a tease however, because he just keeps pumping his fingers in and out of your wet heat, savouring the moans and broken whimpers of his name that are leaving your lips right now. You’re so desperate for him, that you shamelessly start fucking yourself on his fingers.

“Are you ready?” Suna calls out, smirking as he feels you squeeze down on his fingers. You want to argue, but you flash him a glare and a simple, “Please.”

“Beg me.”

You squirm and pant and beg, “Rin, your cock, please, please—“

“Really did miss you,” Suna mumbles against your lips.

“Did you miss me too?”

You’re close. Suna pulls out his fingers and watches your face contort in frustration. It isn’t until he positions his cock right at your entrance do you relax.

You’re panting hard, chest heaving at your ruined orgasm but Suna can’t find any reason to put it off any longer. He’s dragged this long enough.

And it shows—by the time he finally presses his cock inside you, you’re both exhaling, half in relief and the other half at the feeling. It’s a slow drag, but Suna presses on until he’s sheathed. You laugh something airy, “Welcome home.”

Suna doesn’t laugh back, face twisting in pleasure are the feeling of your tight, wet hole starts to overwhelm him. “Oh fuck. I missed this. Missed you.”

This time, you’re the one begging, “Relax, baby—“

“I’m trying,” Suna nods with an exhale, “I’m trying. Just give me a sec.”

Your fingers lightly brush over his chest, before pressing a kiss to it, “Let me know when you’re ready.”

It takes more than a sec. It’s maybe a whole moment before Suna nods and you start moving.

You start bouncing on his cock slowly, closing your eyes to focus on the feeling. Your whole world narrows to a single hot point. “Shit,” you moan.

“Missed a good fuck,” Suna spits out, breathing heavily as he regains his bearings and grips onto your hips tightly. He starts thrusting up to meet your hips, and soon enough you’re both just a chorus of pleasured moans and laboured breathing.

Suna wasn’t always this loud. He used to cover his mouth with his hand or bite his lip to keep his moans in. You used to slow down whenever he did that. You’d pull Suna’s hand away or kiss him. Do that again and again until Suna had unlearned shame. Until he’d realised shame wasn’t allowed in your bed.

“Feels so good baby,” Suna whimpers, unwavering even when he’s breathless. Your hips stutter from the steady pace he’s beginning to set, and the sensation’s almost too much; it only gets worse when Suna starts praising you, “You’re so good for me, my pretty baby.”

His forehead is slick with sweat, but the almost carnal desire evident in his eyes is sending you down a spiral. “How could I not miss this, Y/N?” he continues, “You’ve ruined sex for me. Nobody else can fuck me this well.”

“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” You hate him. He’s older than you, the one who’s more experienced and it shows in his ability to make you lose your mind embarrassingly fast.

“Should I say making love instead?” Suna teases, arms moving up until he’s gripping your shoulders. You fall into him, to his mouth, to shut him up, to give hima kiss, to swallow any further words. Your heart is hammering in your chest, the heat inside you building up to a fever pitch, tight and low in your belly.

“I think,” you pant, trying to move the hair out of your eyes. When you struggle, Suna does it for you. “I think,” you begin again, as another wave of tenderness swells in your chest, “I liked it better when you were telling me you missed me instead.”

It sounds sarcastic, but you mean it. You love being told you’re missed and wanted.

Suna knows it and indulges, even if he sounds like an absolute asshole doing so, “Ah, really? You like hearing I miss your pussy? You’re so romantic, baby. You’re so lucky you’re sexy. Is this getting you close—”

Suna moans when you start bouncing on his dick faster, driving his cock deeper into your hole. You beg, “Keep going, baby. I’m so close—”

Your knees are starting to buckle under the pleasure, your hands wandering until they’re wrapped tightly around his neck. You’re babbling at this point, your mouth moving on its own but you vaguely register you’re begging for him to fuck your harder, to fuck you deeper — to just keep fucking you.

“I love it when you lose your mind on my dick,” Suna moans out, unable to keep further pretence of his teasing, “Love what I do to you. You’re so pretty when you fuck me like that, don’t you know? You’re making me lose my mind. I think it’s time I bite your neck. I know you would love that. You’re always gagging for it—”

You nod, hiding your whimpers against his neck. Suna continues, one hand bunching your hair in his fist, “I thought about it while you were gone. Real long and hard as I drank the blood you left me. How you compared it to sex. How jealous you got at the thought of me drinking someone else. And I’m starting to think that thing you said about love and intimacy was an excuse. You love me, I know that’s true, but I think you just want to get bit—“

“Rin —“

“It feels good, doesn’t it?” Suna says, lowly, against your ear, “The venom. You always look like you’re a second away from an orgasm whenever I bite you on your wrist, and you were so wet after I bit you on your thigh. I worry, sometimes, feeling like I’m taking advantage of you and your love for me whenever I drink from you. But I think you want it more than me—“

You shake your head, but you almost don't care about how exposed you feel. You’re too fucking close, and Suna’s words are just driving you further to the edge.

“I think you love it, the way it makes you forget everything but my mouth on your skin, the way you don’t have to think about anything at all for once. You love taking charge, but sometimes, I think you’d like to be told what to do just once—“

“I do, I do,” you cry, ready to lose yourself in the spiral. “Rin, I’m gonna—”

“Then cum,” Suna orders, so you do. You come with a loud, pitiful moan, gasping his name as the world turns white. Suna follows suit and comes with a groan, joining you in your bliss.

It takes you a moment to catch your breath afterwards, feeling his hand tracing silly little hearts all over your back. You blink, coming back to earth, and realise he’s already hard again as he pulls out.

“I can take care of it,” Suna says, hand already reaching down to stroke his leaking cock.

“Not when I’m right here,” You say, gripping him tight. Thumbs at the slit, spreading your mixed cum down to the base. The sickening squelch from your hand stroking Suna’s cock is awfully loud in the quiet apartment.

Suna’s eyes close. His hands don’t know where to go. Gripping the bed briefly, before rising up to his chest to play with his nipples. He’s so sexy.

“Baby,” Suna breathes, “Faster, play with the tip—”

You can do better than that. You lean over, swallowing his cock in your mouth. You barely get a lick in, before Suna’s shooting cum down your throat. You pull up, almost choking, cum spilling down your chin.

Suna breathes hard as he shakily sits up, “Warn a guy next time.” His words sound exasperated, but he’s reaching over for his discarded shirt and using it to wipe your face.

You let him, even though you know you’ll be better off washing it off.

Gone is the fire from earlier, only tender warmth remaining.

Later, when you’re washing up in shower, Suna says under the spray of the shower, “I meant it, by the way.”

“Meant what?” you ask, squeezing shampoo in your hands. You reach over and start shampooing his hair.

Suna closes his eyes, afraid to get soap in his eyes. “When I said it’s time. I feel in control now when I feed from you. Your blood is still the best thing I’ve ever had, but I think I’m getting used to it. I’m ready.”

You gulp down your own excitement. “When?”

Suna opens his eyes, raising a dark brow. “After we talk about your biting kink.” On seeing the expression on your face, he laughs, “You thought that was just me talking dirty to you?”

You focus on his hair, “I was…hoping…”

“Well,” Suna shrugs, “If you want it, I’m game. We just have to talk about it.”

“Really?” you ask, “You’re not a little weirded out by it?”

“An awfully long game you’re playing if you’re only into me for my fangs,” Suna reasons, before smiling, a teasing glint in his eye, “Don’t worry, Y/N, I’ll be the vampire of all your wet dreams from now on.”

You grab the shower head and spray water directly on Suna’s face. He yelps. Serves him right for never letting you live. Fucker.

.

.

.

The Biting Kink convo warrants an emergency pre-meeting with The Bestie.

“You’re panicking,” Hina says, amused.

You’re pacing across the living room of her apartment. You deny any allegations of the sort, “No, I’m not. I’m excited. I’ve been wanting this. And now, he wants to talk about it. What do I say? What do I do?”

You really hate how Hina’s become the person you go to for things like this. But how could you not, when she’s got the experience? Being prepared is more important than your pride right now.

You stop, putting a hand up to explain, “It’s just, I feel like I’ve built it up in my head. Like I’ve been wanting this so much? And now Rin’s ready. What if I’m not ready? What if I don’t like it?”

“Dude, calm down.” Hina pats the open space beside her on the couch, “Sit down.”

You take a seat, and she pats you on the shoulder, “There, there. Maybe you should down a shot of vodka before doing it. Just to ease the nerves. You’ll be fine. You like it when he bites you on the wrist, right? It’s the same sensation, but better by the neck. Just intensified.”

“That’s what I’m thinking too, but now, I’m a little anxious,” you admit. You look at your hands on your lap. “What if it does go wrong? What if I lose too much blood, pass out, Rin calls the emergency hotline, they find me naked, and it becomes too much of a traumatic experience that we never try it again?”

Hina stares at you, “You need to go back to doing yoga.”

“Hina!”

She sighs, “Do you trust him?”

“Yes,” you say, exasperated. “I love him. Of course, I trust him.”

“Then trust that he won’t let anything happen to you,” Hina says, “If you feel faint, make sure to stop him. Maybe have a safeword or something. Apply normal kink rules to this. Maybe it’s good that you’re overthinking. Talk through what to do with each scenario first, before proceeding. If it doesn’t work out, then it doesn’t work out. What can you do about it? He can keep feeding from you. Nothing has to change.”

You nod at her words. They make sense. Logical. Easy to follow.

“Okay, I’ll keep that in mind,” you say.

Hina gives you a one-armed hug. It’s warm and comforting and you’re suddenly super glad that you have her as your friend. That is, until Hina speaks again, “I shouldn’t joke about this, but don’t worry. If you pass out due to blood loss, I’ll visit you at the hospital.”

You elbow her hard and Hina falls backwards with a laugh, “If it turns out well, I’ll make sure to get you a cake that says, congrats on the sex!”

.

.

.

“Okay,” you start, “I want you to drink from me during sex.”

You’re on Suna’s couch, opting to have a serious discussion in a neutral non-sexual space for once. Although, you’ve fucked on this couch, so you don’t know if it’s really that neutral. Anyway.

You squeeze his hands and quietly follow up, “Is that okay?”

“I’m down to try,” Suna nods, as if mulling the specificities over. “But your safety is the most important thing to me. I’ve been doing my own research—“

You grimace, “With Tooru?”

Suna shakes his head, “No…I asked my sire…for advice…I don’t want to talk about it. It was really awkward, but Kita-san was really informative. So. Yeah.”

You nod, “What did he say?”

“He said to make sure I’m not hungry before going at it,” Suna’s thumb rubs comforting circles on the back of your hand, “That would lessen the impulse to overfeed—“

“What if,” you swallow, “that means it’s not as good for you?”

“Impossible,” Suna dismisses, “I’m always going to want to drink from you, and you will always taste the best to me. Moving on—“

He doesn’t even give you the time to blush and process before soldiering through.

“—the next important thing is you use our safeword if you feel even the slightest bit faint, okay? If you feel like you’re going to pass out, I need you to say something. Do you think you can do that?”

You think you can. “We both have a little more experience with it now, so I think I should be able to.”

“Good,” Suna says, before shooting you a worried look, “And make sure you get enough sleep before, don’t skip any meals, be extra hydrated. Stop drinking those smoothie meals for lunch, because you don’t have time to eat. And stop eating so much instant ramen—“

You roll your eyes, “Okay, okay, I get it. I’ll stay healthy for you.”

Suna smiles, pinching your cheek, “You should really stay healthy for yourself, but if you need an incentive, I think you look really cute when your cheeks are so plump—“

“Did Kita-san say anything else?” You cut him off.

Suna thinks about it for a moment before cutely wagging a finger at yoou, “He said it would be easier if I was on top. I know you like riding me, but please, let me fuck you for once—“

“Let you?” you raise a brow, “You say that like you’re not the one who loves lying there and just taking it—“

Now, it was Suna’s turn to roll his eyes, “You literally always manhandle me into cowgirl.”

You splutter, “That’s because I want to see your face when we fuck—“

And on and on they go.

.

.

.

Anyway.

The important thing is you’ve talked it through. And the next important thing is, you’ve decided on when you want to do it.

Because you’re you, you put it on your calendar.

The date for the big day ends up a little over three weeks later. Your classes predictably picked up with their workload, and then there were midterms to think about too. Factoring papers, homework, and studying, your calendar had filled out almost completely. Suna had stood over your shoulder as you slowly filled your planner with deadlines using a red pen.

When you were done, Suna took the pen from you and marked a quiet Friday after midterms with the word, BUSY.

“I think this would be a good day to do it,” Suna says, just as he doodles a little heart next to the word, before drawing an arrow that covers your entire weekend after. Suna grins at you, “So you have the entire weekend to recover.

The words were so bold, it made you blush. An entire weekend to recover from what?

Hot, sexy, kinky vampire sex?

When you ask him, the only response you get is, “Well, you know how we get after your exams.”

You do know. With a different pen, you make a reminder to go grocery shopping before then. Maybe stock up on electrolytes. Maybe you should buy flowers just to make the evening a little more romantic.

Great ideas, you pat yourself on the back. Nice.

.

.

.

Midterms, the entirety of it, does a good job of distracting you.

Though what’s in store for you is never too far from your mind. All you need to do is check your planner and you’re reminded of it.

It gets you a little hot under your collar, which is unfortunate because sometimes, you’re studying at the library, and you don’t really want to be thinking about getting the fucking of your life at such a dignified establishment.

You’re reminded of it too every time Suna feeds from you. How you’re one step closer each time to the long-awaited neck bite.

Anticipation needlessly grows in you.

.

.

.

When the actual day rolls in, the anticipation has grown monstrous. It’s grown acrid and yellow and can only be called anxiety at this point.

You’re free all day Friday, which only makes the restlessness worse.

You’d woken up early, in your own apartment for once, and couldn’t go back to sleep. You go out for a run, hoping to get some of the bad energy out. When that doesn’t work, you busy yourself with grocery shopping, hoping it tires you out. It doesn’t, so you continue trying other methods. You clean. You watch some drama show on your computer.

All it does is pass the time, bringing the day to a close and the night to a start.

Before you know it, you’re walking into Suna’s apartment with everything you might need for the weekend.

You’re setting your stuff down on the couch, when Suna walks out of the bathroom, drying his hair with a towel.

“Um,” Suna says, panicked, “Did you go into my bedroom?”

You tilt your head to the side, “No. Why?”

Suna relaxes immediately and gives you an innocent smile as he bounds up to you, “Nothing. Have you eaten dinner?”

You raise a brow, but don't comment on it. You say hello with a big hug, “I was going to make something.”

Suna wraps his arms around your waist, pressing kisses against your jaw, “Thought you were just going to order something for tonight.”

“I wasn’t feeling any of the usual places I order at,” you say, which is not untrue, “And I went and got groceries today, so it’s a waste of money when we have food here.”

You feel Suna run his hands down your back affectionately, “Just do whatever is easiest. You’re going to get wrinkles if you frown super hard every time you contemplate what you’re going to eat.”

You absentmindedly rub your forehead at that. “Easy for you to say. You always have one choice of what to eat.”

“Yes. I’ll be having you for dinner tonight,” Suna hums, and the hand on your back begins to feel like promise rather than comfort. Suna lets you go, “Just make your favourite. Ramen?”

You soften, briefly caressing his cheek. Your nerves ease a little as you’re reminded of who you’re doing this with. You pinch his cheek, “Cute. You really do know me so well, huh?”

“Ow,” Suna whines, trying to push your hand away, “You’re so annoying.”

“Shut up, you love me,” you say smugly, which used to make your vampire boyfriend blush. Now, all it does is earn you a roll of his eyes.

Predictably, Suna says in response, “Unfortunately.”

It’s still cute in your eyes. It’s made even cuter by the fact that Suna starts pulling out an old brass pot and filling it with water. Suna has zero use for his own kitchen, almost everything here is kept for you. The thought of it fills you up—you’re so lucky to have someone this sweet. Suna always does things for you without even saying a single word. Without even needing a single word of thanks.

It’s a quick and easy meal that solves one problem and delivers you to the event that you’ve been trying to manifest for months.

Suna disappears into his room, while you’re cleaning the dishes and putting away the groceries in the fridge, and comes back with a kiss.

“Babe,” Suna pulling away with a shy giggle as you stand on the threshold of his bedroom, “You’re not allowed to make fun of me for this.”

“Make fun of you for what—“

Suna opens the door to their bedroom, and when you take a peek, your eyes widen.

The room is dark, illuminated by lit candles scattered all around the room. The bed is covered in rose petals, forming the shape of a heart. Gosh, when did he even have the time to do all of this?

“Babe,” you say, covering your mouth, “This is—“

“I know!” Suna sighs, holding onto your arm. Embarrassment slowly seeps into his expression, “I just got this idea in my head and I thought, it would be cute. Since it’s kind of a special first time, right? And you’ve just finished your midterms and I just thought you deserve something nice and romantic—“ Suna swallows the rest of his words and says, “Y/N. Nevermind, I’m going to blow the candles out—“

“No, no, no,” you say, pulling him back, “I love it. It’s very nice. It’s very cute.” You can’t help but tease, “Very romantic… I’ve always wanted to have sex on top of rose petals.”

Suna lightly hits your shoulder, “I said, don’t make fun of me!”

“I’m not!” you deny, cupping his face and pressing a sweet kiss on his lips, “I promise I like it. I’m into it. It’s really cute. Don’t be embarrassed.”

“I’m really embarrassed now,” Suna pouts, “But if you’re into it…”

“I am,” you assure, though he keeps his pout for a moment more before nodding. He looks at you through his lashes, and his gaze, his gaze, feels like a stun to the heart.

The humour from earlier melts from the heat of his gaze.

Suna touches your wrist and asks, “Should we get started?”

You kiss him in response.

It’s a slow moving kiss, exactly what you need after a long day of overthinking. You feel your body relax as you give into the soft glide of his lips against yours.

It’s the first act of your sweet capitulation.

As you kiss him, you hear the click of the door being shut, and slowly but surely, you’re being walked towards the bed.

You pull away the moment you feel the edge of the bed behind your knees. You sit down, looking up at him, and say, “I’m a little nervous.”

Suna smooths his hands over your shoulders, “I can feel it. Do you want to not—“

“No, no,” you shake your head. Suna brushes your hair back, “We can do it another time.”

“I want it now,” you say steadily, despite your shaking heart. You nod, “I trust you. I trust me. Us. I just get worried. What if something goes wrong?”

“Then we’ll stop, like we said we would,” Suna promises. “We eased into this. We did all the steps right. But we’re experimenting, and it’s okay if we fuck up. We can always try again later.”

Suna says all this while holding your face in his hands. Like you’re something precious. You turn your head, pressing a kiss to the palm of his hand. You savour being held for just a moment before you ask, “If I pass out, could you make sure that the ambulance doesn’t find me naked?”

“Y/N,” he tries to reprimand, but the question is too funny that he ends up laughing, a shaking figure against yours. When he pulls back, he’s rolling his eyes, “Yes. I’ll make sure you’re clothed and covered if we have to take you to the hospital. Stop being morbid. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Yeah?”

You absolutely believe it.

“Now,” Suna says, sitting down and placing you on his lap. “Let me take care of you. You’ve worked so hard, baby. I just want to make you feel good. Will you let me?”

You nod and are rewarded immediately by the dark bloom of his beautiful smile. It’s the last thing you see before you’re being kissed again.

Suna takes absolute control of it. He kisses passionately, full-bodied, like kissing you is the only thing he was put on this earth to do. His hands are in your hair, caressing your cheeks, touching your neck, exploring your chest—overwhelming your senses.

All you can do is take it and try to give back as good as you get.

Suna’s hand is cold when it works its way beneath the hem of your shirt. You flinch and feel him press soft butterfly kisses in apology.

“S’okay,” you mumble, more than appeased when Suna’s palm flattens against your stomach and travels its way up your chest. It’s the lightest graze of his fingertips over your nipple that has you shivering all over.

Suna swallows, eyes darkening as he says, “You’re a gift to me,” before pushing your shirt all the way up, so he can have full access to your chest. The only warning you get is the soft kiss against where your heart lies, before you’re being flipped around and pushed roughly up the bed.

“Look at you,” he says with awe. You can only imagine how you look, surrounded by rose petals, under the orange glow of the candles in the room. His hand traces a line from your chest all the way down to your stomach. “I need to send flowers to the god that gave you to me.”

Your mouth dries at his words. It’s not that you think you’re ugly nor are you lacking in admirers. It’s just that—nobody’s ever described you like this. There’s almost something religious about the way Suna looks at you; the way he touches you, in this room, right now, it can only be called worship

“Please,” is all you can say, not really knowing what you mean, what you wish for Suna to do.

He nods.

You watch him slowly lean down and press a soft, lingering kiss right in the middle of the valley of your chest. It tickles almost, the touch so light against skin it feels almost like a dream. The next kiss is just as light, an inch down, and then another, and then another, until he’s reached your stomach and—

You don’t even realise you’ve pushed yourself up on your elbows to watch until his eyes flicker up to you. Your breath catches in your throat at the intensity of his eyes, and you don't, you can’t breathe as Suna maintains eye contact as he gives an open-mouthed kiss so close to the waistband of your pants.

The brush of his cool tongue against heated skin is immaculate, and you find yourself slowly exhaling at the feeling. You’re a fan of delayed gratification, but never when you’re at the end of it. The lack of control has you taut with tension; Suna’s barely touching you, barely putting any pressure anywhere, and yet, you feel like you’re on fire.

“Rin,” you whisper, “Touch me—“

Suna gives you a look that has you swallowing your words. But Suna’s not entirely as good with denying you, not even to play a role in bed, and you find him moving lower, close to where you want him to be.

Just as you think he’s about to unbutton your pants, his fingers tease instead, touching your clothed head, before putting his mouth over it, laving at it with his tongue.

You have never hated denim so much in your life.

You’re sweating by the time Suna finally touches you properly, poking his through your pants with a small smirk. You can’t even begrudge him for it, the relief you feel is insane and it must show.

Suna pats your thigh and says, “Take off your pants.”

You don't need to be told twice, hurriedly taking off your shirt, before pulling down your pants then your underwear. Suna only helps by pushing your discarded clothes to the floor.

You’re fully naked when you realise he’s entirely clothed. “Are you…”

Suna shakes his head, “Later. Can you sit by the headboard?”

You crawl your way to where he wants to be and sit there without any complaints. But when you turn to look back at him, Suna looks like he’s trying hard not to laugh.

You frown, “What?”

Suna bites his lip before letting out a laugh.

“What?” you whine as Suna joins you, settling in between your legs. Suna smiles at you. He reaches over, and you think he’s finally going to touch you where you need him most, but all he does is pick something off of your skin.

You want to die when you see what it is: a rose petal.

“You had one stuck on your ass,” Suna snickers, and all you can do is cover your face, “Stop embarrassing me. It’s killing the mood.”

“It’s us,” Suna says, kissing your knee. “I’m sure we can resurrect it.”

You grumble, stupid, under your breath, but you can’t quite hold onto the disgruntled feeling when Suna starts kissing his way down your thigh. He passes the faded scar from when he fed from your thigh and gives it more attention, sucking the skin into his mouth and only moving on when he sees it’s bruised.

As if you could forget the feel of his teeth sinking against your skin.

Suna makes himself comfortable in between your legs, kneeling until he’s right in front of your pussy. He leans forward into your heat, giving it a kitten lick, like he’s only allowed a taste, and then presses his lips together, as if savouring the taste.

“Yummy,” Suna says, almost to himself. Your hands are curling into fists at your side, fighting the instinct to take control and have Suna eat you out already. The anticipation has you on the edge, and it paints everything Suna does in an erotic light.

Even this—the prim way Suna tucks his long hair behind his ear before finally, finally, putting his mouth on you.

“You’re perfect,” you moan, head falling back against the headboard as his warm and wet tongue dips into you. You think you can cum with just this, with the way his tongue is swirling in and around you, the steady roaming of his hands all over your body. You could close your eyes and just give in to it all, but you fight the urge.

After all, the view is the best part.

Suna’s mouth on you, eyes swimming in desire, saliva dripping down his chin.

You reach out and caress his cheek, wondering, who taught you this, who could give you up after seeing you like this?

As if Suna could hear your thoughts, he pulls away to take a breath and looks at you with his beautiful dark eyes, his delicate ink black lashes against porcelain skin. “Alright?” Suna pants.

“Yeah,” you nod, wiping the slick dribbling down his chin. Suna chases your fingers, licking it with his tongue, before sucking on your fingertips. You push them further in, until you’re knuckle deep and pressing down on his tongue.

The sound Suna makes has him pulling his fingers out. You swallow, “It’s your turn. Come here.”

Suna laughs, sitting back on his haunches, “I feel shy all of a sudden. I feel like we weren’t like this even on our first time.”

“Why are you shy?”

Suna shrugs, taking his shirt off to hide his expression. “Because.”

You laugh, fond even with how heated everything is. You reach out and sigh with pleasure now that you get to touch his bare body. “I don’t like it when you take charge,” you say, “You never let me do anything.”

Suna smiles, “You’re supposed to sit back and enjoy the show.”

“But I want to kiss you,” you pout..

Suna laughs this time, “You’ve always been allowed to. Come kiss me then.” But he’s the one taking off his sleep shorts and clambering over to you. “Come suck me off too,” he teases.

“Mhmm, finally,” you joke, but you think you’ve genuinely had enough of this drawn-out tease. Your first round is usually never this slow, both of you guys fans of fucking hard and fast just to get the edge off before taking it more slowly the next round.

Suna’s too busy pressing kisses on your throat, sucking hickeys like he’s marking the spot he’ll be biting later. The reminder has you pinching his side, “Rin —“

“Calm down,” he soothes, giving your chin a kiss.

You ignore him, reaching for his cock instead. You don’t have any patience left.

Suna gives you a look but gives in to your wishes. He’s rising to his knees, laying above you as he lines his cock up into your hole. You grip his back, steadying him as he slowly sinks into you. Suna let out a low moan, shuddering as you fully took him in.

You echo the sentiment with your whole heart and pussy. Suna’s hands massage your sides as he lets your body adjust to him. You watch his face, the slight pinch between his brows, the bite of his teeth around his bottom lip, and wait, with absolute patience, for him to move when he’s ready.

You distract him with kisses, placing them anywhere you can reach, shoulders, nose, the curve of his Adam’s apple at the centre of his throat. Makes a home in his mouth with a kiss so slow and intimate it felt like you were both beyond the touch of time.

Suna kisses back, deepening the kiss as he twines his arms around your neck. And carefully, he starts to move.

Suna’s hips rock exquisitely slow, and all you can do is feel the movement. Every time he rises, your grip on him tightens. You’re fighting the urge to move, to fuck back against him every time he thrusts into you. There’s a rush of pleasure running up your spine that you want to chase so bad, but experience has taught you the virtues of patience.

The reward is the carnal knowledge of why some people call an orgasm a little death, and considering the bite that awaits you at the end of this, you’re certain you’ll find the name apt.

So, you lean back against the headboard and watch your boyfriend take absolute pleasure from you. The sinuous wave of his body as he sinks again and again into your pussy is bound to haunt all of your future wet dreams. His face twisted in pleasure, with his half-lidded eyes and pussy-eating mouth, is what you will touch himself to when you’re alone—

“Y/N,” Suna moans, falling forward into you. You catch him, caressing his back, then his thighs, the muscles of which flex underneath your hands, “Are you tired, baby?”

Suna presses his forehead against yours, mouth parted around a gasp as he shakes his head. “I’m good. Are you—“

“Good,” you say, though that word hardly covers half of how good you feel. “So good,” you praise.

“I’m happy,” Suna pants, staring deep into your eyes, “Just wanna make you—make you feel good, sweetheart, love you so much—“

You kiss him, holding his cheeks so you can do it properly, deeply. A kiss you pour all the love you have in your heart into. Suddenly, it feels unbearable to receive all of this, to be taken care of and loved like this, without giving anything back. When you pull back, you beg, “Me too, let me make you feel good too—“

Suna shakes his head, “After, you can ride me after—“ He doesn’t even properly finish his sentence, like he’s trying to hold onto his control too. What he does is press on the bruise he left on your neck and asks, “Do you still want me to—“

You nods desperately, “Please, Rin, I’ve been waiting—“

You think you might die if he starts having second thoughts about it. This, you’ve dreamt about for so long. This, you’ve imagined the delicate mix of pain and pleasure far too many times. And you’re so close to having it, you’ll whine, you’ll beg, you’ll do anything to assure him you need it.

“It’ll hurt,” Suna warns, but you hear a promise instead.

“I want it,” you lick your lips, like you can taste the pleasure already.

“You remember your promise to me, right?” Suna says, “If you feel—“

“Yes,” you promise, “Yes, I will.”

“You’re not allowed to die,” Suna jokes, and you’re too delirious with need to find it funny. Suna descends on your neck, and your brain shuts down completely, surrendering completely to his open mouthed kisses, to the tiny nips he makes here and there.

You tilt your neck to the side to give him easier access and hear the low growl coming from your boyfriend. Yes, please, it’s yours, I’m yours, all of it—

You don’t even realise you’re saying it out loud until he chuckles against your neck, the sound vibrating. You can’t find it in yourself to be embarrassed at all, not when you feel your honesty rewarded by the wet stripe Suna licks up your neck.

It’s followed only by this admission: “You’re the only person who’s made me being a vampire feel like a gift, so don’t die.”

By the time those words sink in, sharp fangs sink in you too.

Unimaginable pain fills you, neck first. Instinct begs you to fight back, but you still, bearing it. The only thing anchoring you through it is Suna, who you hold with one arm wrapped around his waist and another tangled in his hair.

It hurts so much that the world is blurred around the edges. You close your eyes in fear that vision would make you dizzier. You don't want to faint.

You feel a hand stroking your hair. Your body begins to get used to the pain or perhaps this is where the pain begins to fizzle altogether, the venom reaching your heart. You welcome it easily, greedy for any and all relief—before you realise it, there’s hardly any pain left. Just pleasure in equal strokes.

The pleasure strikes through you like lightning, electric, all-consuming, and spreads like wildfire through you. You jolt, squirm, and would have absolutely thrashed if not for the way Suna was holding you down. The pleasure is almost too much too, bringing a sort of restlessness to your movement, heat wanting to get out but not knowing where to go.

“Rin,” you moan, not even knowing what you want him to do. Your hands go back to his waist as you suddenly remember he’s still inside you. You don’t think you have the strength to move, body too lax with pleasure, nor do you want to accidentally jostle him and ruin the bite.

You do end up grinding against his hips, small circular movements to give your aching pussy some relief. You don’t know how much time passes as you do that. You’ll only remember the way Suna gulps against your neck, the way he releases you, the single trail of blood dripping down his chin.

You watch the blood almost spill to the white sheets, but Suna catches it with his thumb. He brings it to his mouth, sucking onto it with his eyes closed. Savouring even the stray drop.

“Scrumptious,” Suna says, voice thick with rapture, and leans back down to lick whatever blood was left on your neck.

It’s a blur after that. Your tangled bodies giving into instinct. The essence of you together, hot as the blood shared between you stain the sheets.

.

.

.

You think it’s morning when you wake up. Not that you can tell by the light, as the room is hidden from the world with black out curtains.

You try to get up, but your neck aches immediately. Your hands go immediately to it, expecting to find a large gaping wound, but all you can feel is gauze.

You feel the cool breeze of a fan hit your body, a sobering feeling that has you remembering the night before.

The rose petals. The sex. The bite—

“I can hear you thinking,” Suna says grumpily, beside you. His voice thick with sleep. “Go back to sleep.”

You lay back down, relaxing fully against the pillows and what appears to be fresh sheets. You turn to your side and cuddle closer to your boyfriend , whose eyes are closed.

After a moment, they flutter open. Suna says, “I can feel you staring at me,” then with concern, “Is your neck bothering you?”

“It’s expected,” you mumble, wrapping an arm around his waist. “Thank you. I loved it. Ten out of ten, would do it again.”

Suna chuckles, dropping a kiss to your cheek, before settling back down and saying nothing more.

You slowly give in to sleep too. Nothing left to say as there’s nothing more to want.

You’re his completely.

a/n: i wanted a tender and sweet vampire fic to read but couldn't find one... who says you can't have a healthy relationship and be nasty in bed right... hence i wrote it instead... this is my first time attempting to write a long fic w smut so please be gentle w mistakes!!!!

also surprise! here's the powerpoint mentioned in the fic :')

#fic recs #🌧️

[usertala]

bokuto koutarou x reader, 3.3k

you're in charge of the kissing booth for msby's charity fair. bokuto is not impressed, saving the penguins be damned.

[a/n: aaa this is a very very late bday fic for my beloved dani!! i'm so sorry it took me so long but i love u dearly, u are one of the funniest biches i know <3 mwah]

“Seems like it’s going well,” Hinata chuckles as he takes a spot beside Bokuto, leaning against the brick wall behind them. 

Bokuto’s grip on the clipboard tightens. “Yeah. It’s going great.” he answers dryly.

“I think her lips are going to fall off by the end of the night. I didn’t expect this many people to be interested.”

The person in question is you of course, currently lip-locked with a boy who couldn’t stop shaking. It was only a small kiss, no tongue in sight, but he had flushed bright pink immediately, giving the impression that he could faint at any moment. Motherfucker.

When you pull away mere seconds later, the idiot almost slips and your hand immediately goes out to try and steady him, genuinely concerned and asking, “Are you alright?” 

Hinata watches on with sickening glee, stupid smirk on his lips. Bokuto on the other hand? Well he’s on his last straw. Definitely considering having his Joker moment. 

“It’s cute how she doesn’t seem to notice that almost every person has ‘accidentally’ tripped into her arms,” Hinata said, hushed so that nobody around them could hear. Not that anyone was listening. Anyone with eyes would be more focused on the pretty, kiss-dazed girl sitting beside them. “Or if she does notice, she doesn’t care.”

Bokuto didn’t know which was worse: the fact that you were playing along, or you not realizing how popular you were.

It’s for charity, he reminded himself. For a good cause. Bokuto couldn’t even complain out loud because this entire thing was going to his choice of charity. They’d drawn straws and his and Hinata’s choices had been picked as the two they’d focus on this year; so technically, every kiss you gave was a direct line to saving the penguins.

But when Bokuto agreed that Hinata’s Y/N-kissing-booth suggestion was a good idea, he hadn’t been serious. Or, well, he had been serious, but for some reason he’d imagined the people who’d line up to be various clones of himself. Not like, actual people.

“If looks could kill, you’d be a serial killer,” Hinata said, poking Bokuto’s cheek. Bokuto whined, covering the spot with one hand. His cheeks were embarrassingly warm. “You know she’s not going to magically fall in love with any of them, right? You don’t need to worry.”

“I’m not worrying,” Bokuto huffed. What did he have to worry about? It wasn’t like you were his girlfriend or anything. You guys had never even come close to kissing. What kind of right did he have to worry? “I’m just…” He faltered, searching for a good excuse on why he was standing here brooding. He didn’t have one.

“You’re just, huh?” Hinata repeated.

The boy who was with you, once hewas back on his feet, went straight to the back of the line again. Bokuto’s eye twitched.

His job was to count the donations, and so every person that walked up had to hand him exactly one hundred yen in exchange for a kiss. Because that was apparently what your kisses were worth—one hundred yen. Not even one dollar in America.

He was about to rip his hair out. Did these people even realize how lucky they were?

Well, clearly they had to have some recognition of how beautiful and perfect you were, otherwise they wouldn’t be in line at all. But still, they didn’t know you. Not like Bokuto or any of your other friends did. So did they actually understand? He doubted it.

The next person in line walked up to the table. A guy around his own age with a pretty, placid smile. He handed him a ten thousand yen bill.

“That’s ten, right?” he asked casually, like he was talking about the weather and not the fact he’d just bought ten kisses from Bokuto’s year-long crush. 

“Yep,” Hinata chirped on Bokuto’s behalf.

“Great!” he exclaimed before turning away happily.

The MSBY charity team had rented out a spot for their bi-annual charity fair. All around them, different teammates had their own stalls. One selling home baked goods, one for merch, one for autographs, and the list went on. Bokuto had the unfortunate luck of being stuck at the far left side, which consisted of the kissing booth and then a game where you had to hit a target to dunk Atsumu into a tank of water.

Why couldn’t Bokuto have been put with Atsumu instead, huh? You had picked Bokuto as your partner on the basis of… who knows what. You hadn’t said. To torture him, maybe. Maybe you had caught onto his crush and were sending him subliminal messages to give up.

It hadn’t started off all that bad. The first few people in line had been staff members and all of them had either accepted joking kisses on the cheek or didn’t want a kiss at all. Then the next few were your friends from different teams you’d gained through connections as the team’s PR manager, all of who had come to support the event for good press.

Things only started going downhill when random people showed up and caught wind that Y/N— MSBY’s elusively single, cute as a button, almost uncomfortably friendly PR manager— was manning the team’s kissing booth. 

Then the hoard of men came and any good mood Bokuto had over doing something for charity simmered out. Now, an hour later, it felt like they’d barely made a dent in the line of people. God, Bokuto knew that it was impossible not to be attracted to you, but this felt more and more like this entire thing was made simply to torture Bokuto and not for any charitable benefit.

“You know, I had to wait in line for an hour. I think this booth has more people than every other one here combined,” the man continued.

“Wow,” Hinata drawled. “You don’t say?”

“Sorry about that,” you said sheepishly, rubbing chapstick all over your lips.

“Oh, it’s no problem,” he brushed off your concerns. “I’m sure the wait will have been worth it.”

He laughed, and you laughed with him and Hinata, that traitor, laughed as well. Bokuto was the only one not laughing. If this was being filmed, it would be a prime example of a murder in the making for psychologists to study.

The man ran his fingers through his hair and leaned over the table. Bokuto looked away, pretending to count the money he’d just received. The singular bill in his hand.

Hinata leaned in and whispered into his ear, “Feel free to keep sulking, it’s cute. If you look miserable enough, maybe someone will feel bad for you and ask to kiss you instead out of pity.”

Bokuto elbowed him in the stomach. Hinata was only teasing him, and Bokuto knew he was just making an attempt to lighten the mood, but Bokuto was too miserable to joke about.

Hinata’s smile fell when he saw Bokuto wasn’t even making an attempt to pretend to laugh. “It’s just for charity,” Hinata reassured him happily, ruffling Bokuto’s hair. “You know that.”

“Mm.” Knowing that didn’t make Bokuto want to stop pouting any less. “I just—you know, imagining it in my head and—and seeing it happen in front of me are…” It’d been cute when Hinata suggested it because you had blushed and stammered and seeing you embarrassed usually made him happy. It was not as cute now that the blushing and stammering was caused by random people hoping to thirst trap you.

“I get it,” Hinata hummed. “Here, how about I take over your spot for ten minutes? Go take a break, get some water or something.”

Bokuto’s eyes slid over to you just in time to see you finish off your ten kisses with the guy. Despite how conversational he’d been before, he was now stunned into silence by the power of your lips. 

“Okay,” Bokuto mumbled, taking a deep breath. He was torn between being angry and just plain upset, and right now being upset was taking the edge. He didn’t have the heart to be truly mad at any of the people in line. They were only doing what he wished he could do. He couldn’t fault them for taking advantage of the opportunity. “Thanks.” He passed Hinata the clipboard and little box he’d been shoving all of the bills into. “I’ll be right back. Bathroom,” he said to you.

You shot him a quizzical look. Bokuto stuck around long enough to see the next guy step forward, donning a bright smile and grinning like a Cheshire cat. That was his cue to take a walk.

Getting away from you didn’t help his spiral as much as he’d hoped. He wandered around the fair for a few minutes aimlessly until he ended up back at Atsumu’s booth.

Sakusa took one look at him and snorted, “Why don’t you just get in line yourself and kiss her if you want to so badly?” Without Bokuto even saying why he looked so upset in the first place.

“Yeah, you have the power to—fuck!” Atsumu added, cutting off with a yelp as a guy hit the target straight-on and sent him toppling into the tank.

“You have the power to fuck,” Sakusa repeated. “So wise.”

Atsumu sputtered, crawling back out of the tank, and Bokuto chewed on the inside of his cheek. He did, indeed, have the power. He had a good twenty thousand yen in his wallet. That was twenty kisses—not that he wanted twenty. He would be happy with one.

It’s for charity, a little voice in his head sung that sounded suspiciously like Akaashi of all people. You have an excuse. Go get her!

The twenty thousand yen in his wallet was actually comprised of four five thousand bills. He pulled one out and left the remaining three in his bag. It was light and had a little dirt on the edges.

This bill was worth five of your kisses.

Why should Bokuto be embarrassed about donating to charity? His own charity choice, at that. It wasn’t that weird. It would be weirder if he didn’t donate at all, right?

Right.

He marched back to the kissing booth. The line had thinned slightly since he’d left. Hinata was engaged in a passionate one-sided conversation with you, mostly because you couldn’t physically respond, since you were currently kissing someone.

When Hinata spotted Bokuto walking up, he stopped mid-sentence and smiled. “You’re back already? I don’t mind looking over for a while—”

His eyes widened when Bokuto puffed out his cheeks and, instead of returning to his spot by your side, went straight for the back of the line. After Hinata got over his shock, he flashed him a thumbs up.

You didn’t seem to notice Bokuto was in line, too busy trying to keep up with the sheer amount of people kissing you one by one. Bokuto played with the bill in his hand, half-tempted to rip it up. Every step closer to the front of the line made him feel like he was going to throw up, but that was fine.

“It’s for charity,” he mumbled to himself. “It’s for charity. It’s for charity. It’s for charity.”

“… Kou?” you interrupted him. Bokuto jumped. When had he gotten to the front of the line? “Uh…”

You certainly looked like you’d been kissing people for the past two hours. Messy hair, swollen lips. God, you were so pretty. You must’ve just reapplied your lipgloss, because your lips were a little glossy too.

Bokuto wondered what they were going to taste like. He wondered how many people exactly had found that out so far today.

He faltered and you frowned, looking wary.

“I’ll just take your payment,” Hinata said cheerily, completely ignoring the tension in the air.

“I’m—it’s for charity,” Bokuto blurted out. He shoved the five thousand yen bill towards Hinata, who pocketed it smoothly. “For the penguins.”

Your brows raised right to your hairline, and then after a moment, your face blossomed into an unreadable smile. “Sure,” you said. “For the penguins. Do you, um, do you want a kiss on the cheek, or…”

Why were you asking him? You hadn’t asked anyone else so far! Bokuto looked helplessly at Hinata, who only shrugged, as if to say you’re on your own now.

“You decide?” Bokuto squeaked. He hoped that wasn’t too suspicious. You blinked at him. His throat bobbed as he swallowed.

“Sure,” You gestured for Bokuto to step forward, closer to the edge of the table that separated you and him.

As he looked into your eyes, Bokuto was abruptly reminded by the fact that this would be his first kiss with you. He’d imagined kissing you plenty of times before, just… not like this. But that was fine. Totally fine. Beggars couldn’t be choosers after all.

“If you’re—if you’re uncomfortable, you don’t need to—I mean—” Bokuto stammered. He bit his lip, eyes darting everywhere but your own.

“Relax,” you interrupted him, voice low. You cupped his cheek. 

Had you touched anyone else like this all day? Or was it just him? He tried to remember, but his brain was rapidly short circuiting. Oh, god. You were so close now, and you were only getting closer.

Bokuto was almost positive he could see Hinata filming this on his phone out of the corner of his eye, but all his worries about Hinata getting blackmail material on him were lost when your lips touched his own.

Kissing was a lot softer than Bokuto had imagined it to be. And it only lasted a second, so he barely got to process it before you were moving away. He made a disgruntled noise and you chuckled.

“Four more,” you said, softly.

This time he was more prepared, and he allowed his eyes to flutter shut.

The first of four, your lips lingered on his for a second longer than before. The second, your thumb brushed across his cheek. The third, Bokuto hadn’t breathed in a solid minute and his head was beginning to throb. And finally the fourth, you panted as your lips parted, and Bokuto could feel every breath on his tingling lips.

It was, in one word, perfect. Like you were made to be together. Bokuto had seen you kiss a lot of people so far that day, but never so eagerly. He was filled with tentative hope, and he opened his eyes slowly.

“Was that your first kiss?” You asked, and Bokuto’s small smile twisted into a pout. He didn’t know what the correct answer was, so he didn’t respond. You chuckled, “I’m just guessing.”

“Y/N!” Bokuto whined.

Your fingers trailed down his cheek down to his shoulder, and Bokuto leaned into the touch, achingly familiar. His heart raced, not only because of the kiss but because of how gentle you were. Things should’ve been awkward now, and yet all you did was smile and shake your head.

“You know, I—” you started, but you were cut off by someone clearing their throat, “Excuse me.”

Bokuto glanced over his shoulder to see a guy with his arms crossed, looking unimpressed. He spoke monotonously, “Are you going to hold up the line forever? If you want more kisses, go to the back.”

“Oh, uh…” Bokuto licked his lips. He got the answer to his earlier question: your lips tasted like vanilla. “Sorry.” He didn’t even have time to go to the back of the line. He was supposed to be back at work, on your other side, by now.

Clearing his throat, he took a step back, only for you to grab onto his sleeve and tug him forward so you could whisper: “We finish up here in like half an hour. Don’t run off right away. Please?”

Your eyes were big and eager, and your clutch on his sleeve was tight, like you couldn’t bear to let him go without hearing an answer.

Bokuto’s exhale came slow. The anxiety in his chest had eased, and he nodded. “I won’t,” he promised.

“Okay.” you released him. “Okay, good.”

Bokuto squeezed his way past the guy, who was squinting between the two of you like he could figure out the entire relationship from the few words he’d eavesdropped on. Hinata shoved his phone right in Bokuto’s face, and Bokuto pushed his hand out of the way, grumbling, “Shoyo, stop.”

“You guys are so cute!” Hinata yelled. The guy who was about to kiss you looked murderous. Is that how Bokuto had looked twenty minutes ago? Wow, that’s embarrassing. “Oh my god, I’m so glad I was here to witness it. I can’t wait to tell your future children. Wait, I don’t even need to tell them. I can show them. Modern technology is so amazing.”

“Please stop,” Bokuto begged, but he took the clipboard from Hinata just so he could hide his grin behind it.

.

.

. 

Hinata had returned to Atsumu’s booth shortly after the kiss, leaving Bokuto to simper alone. He couldn’t stop smiling.

As evening drew nearer, more and more people trickled away from the fair, until it was only staff and other volunteers remaining. The entire team had made close to three million yen that day. You had made at least a hundred thousand of that money on your own. And somewhere in the middle of all those bills was Bokuto’s.

You stood up, stretching lightly, and yawned. “Hey,” you called out. Bokuto tilted his head, and you smiled, eyes and nose both crinkling. Bokuto wanted to kiss them. “Do you have any cash?”

Bokuto blinked. “Do you... want something from the vending machine?”

“It’s a yes or no question Kou,” you huffed. 

With a bit of hesitancy, Bokuto reached into his wallet and pulled out one of his remaining three five thousand yen bills. Were you not going to talk about what happened? Maybe Bokuto had misread the mood. Maybe he’d totally misinterpreted your feelings. Maybe you kissed everybody like that—

You take the bill from him and promptly drop it into the donation box. “Five kisses,” you said, and then grabbed Bokuto by the collar of his jacket, pulling him closer until you were kissing him, mouth moving languidly across his own.

Bokuto looped his arms around your shoulders, sighing. You weren’t in a rush to end it, and Bokuto gave himself the privilege of slowly melting into you, gasping when you clung onto his waist. 

Five kisses later, you took another bill from Bokuto’s wallet; another five kisses later, the final bill. The kissing devolved into you pressing little pecks all over his face and Bokuto laughing, trying to fend you off. Not because he didn’t enjoy it, but because he was scared if this continued any longer his heart would give out from happiness.

“I was waiting all day for you to get in line,” you sighed.

Bokuto laughed, but his laughter turned into a moan when you kissed him again, and then again, hands wandering down his back. You both stood that way for some time, breathing heavily, before erupting into giggles.

“Next time you should pay me,” Bokuto said, in a half-hearted attempt to cover up how happy he was.

“I will,” you promised. “Or, hear me out—we can kiss for free?”

Bokuto opened his mouth to respond yes, please god, but he was interrupted by a familiar voice. “Get a room! You’re in public, you know!” Atsumu screamed from where he was helping Sakusa dismantle their booth.

You glared at him, “Shut it, Miya. You’re just jealous because you've done nothing but drown and look ugly all day.”

Atsumu scoffed, giving you the middle finger, as Bokuto held you back from retaliating by grabbing your shoulders and kissing you again until you forget everything that isn't him.

#fic recs #☁️

[usertala]

lovesick

pairing : lucifer x gn!reader

summary: There’s a ring box sitting in Lucifer’s drawer.

an : inspired by “before the big day” devilgram :)

For a demon like Lucifer, a paper cut should be no more than an itch, something that shouldn’t even warrant a reaction. But when he felt the sharp edge glide across his finger, he still couldn’t help but let out a pained wince.

You poked your head up from behind the leather armchair where you’d been lolling in, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” he frowned at the red forming around the thin line. “Actually, can you get me a tissue?”

“Sure,” you grabbed the tissue box and walked over, eyes widening when you spotted the cut. “You’d better get that bandaged.”

“It’s just a small cut.”

“A small cut that will sting like hell when it comes into contact with water,” You leaned against the desk, took his hand and started examining the wound. “And you could get an infection.”

An argument was already building on his tongue, but he decided to stay quiet as you moved on to dab the blood off, eyes narrowed in concentration, making sure you weren’t pressing too hard. A few strands of hair had fallen in front of your face, but your sole attention was on the cut.

It felt nice to be pampered once in a while.

Discarding the red-spotted paper, you placed your hand under the adjacent drawer to open it. Panic set in, and he scrambled to push it back. The wood slammed shut with a loud thud. 

“What?” You turned to him, startled. “I’m just trying to get you a bandaid!”

“I don’t have any in there.” The lie slipped out easily. “It’s really fine, it’ll heal soon.”

You gave the drawer and his guarding hand a pointed look, silent skepticism spreading across your features. Then you shook your head firmly, stubborn as always. “I’ll just go grab mine.”

His eyes followed as you walked out of the study, hand only lowering once you were out of sight. That was a threateningly close call. Had you seen what was inside the drawer, everything he’d been planning would've gone up in flames.

Just to double check. He opened a gap wide enough for him to peek inside. The warm light spilled in, revealing a red velvet box sitting serenely atop other miscellaneous objects. He drummed his finger against the wooden board and, giving in to his uncertainty, pulled out the box. The ring was still inside– the band a pale silver, twirling up to enclose a sapphire that was catching light on all sides. 

He sighed and returned it into the drawer, slamming it into the dark.

He'd bought the ring for a good while now, just about long enough for it to collect dust. While the purchase had been done on a whim, he confessed that the possibility of marriage had been stuck in his head like a rowdy tenant unwilling to move out.

And of course, you were the one who'd given rise to the idea. He could still remember how you'd woken up that day, dazed still by sleep, and upon recognizing him, pulled away and buried your face into the pillow almost in annoyance. He'd been offended, but after some insistent pestering, you finally explained that you'd dreamt of marrying him.

"It was such a sweet dream, and you had to go ahead and ruin it!" You'd complained, looking off to the side with a stubborn frown, but it didn't take a pair of keen eyes to notice the way your ears burned. To make it up to you, he'd vowed to make it a reality one day. It might've been a light-hearted promise at that time, but it would soon bloom into a question that lodged itself into his heart, making it hard to breathe without first getting it out.

He owned exactly three white suits and had to put them all away, because every time he opened the closet and caught sight of them in his periphery, his mind would just go haywire. White suit, wedding, flowers, rings, vows, promise of a lifetime . He would never admit it, but the mere imagination he conjured in his head was enough to make him giddy. He would put an unhealthy amount of sugar in his tea just so the sweetness would taste realer, would run into doors while still donning a tooth-rotting smile.

Simeon was worried that he was sick, but if it really was an illness, he didn't want to get rid of it. Not when you were both the cause and the remedy.

It wasn't always pleasant though. Dreaming was the easy part, but when it came to taking actions, he was in a bind. He wished to make the proposal as memorable as possible, but he had no idea how to. Either he accidentally let the perfect moment pass by or the time and place just didn't work. The world seemed to be against him this time, throwing curveball after curveball on his quest to pop the question. The only thing preventing him from giving up was the unbudging certainty that, yes , he did want to marry you and live out the rest of your lives together. That was enough to keep him going.

At the nearing footsteps, he reluctantly pulled himself out of his thoughts. You came back with a pack of bandaids decorated with pink hearts. 

"What?" You chuckled at the appalment dimming his eyes. 

"Couldn't you have gotten the less cutesy ones?" 

"They were the only ones lying around."

You were obviously lying, but he bit his tongue once again, watching as you peeled the backing. 

"Your hand, please."

He complied. You tilted your head to get a better angle and placed the soft cotton on the cut, the skin surrounding which had started to bloom red. Then his eyes trailed up, and realization dawned on him.

The paper had grazed his ring finger, which shouldn't have been a big deal, but his heart still jumped out of his throat. Suddenly he was hyper aware of your hand working around the wound, wrapping the sticky surface around the base of his finger. You didn't do it very well, but he couldn't bring himself to care as he watched the hearts adhere to his skin.

One day, it would be just like this, except he would be the one holding your hand like it was glass, and instead of a band aid, it would be a ring. He could already see it happening before his eyes– your finger slipping into the ring of perfect size, the happiness blooming on your face, then your hands fitting perfectly together.

It was only when he felt your touch on his face that he snapped out of the images, feeling the smile etched on his face. Softly you asked, "What are you thinking about?"

"How dumb this bandaid looks."

"That’s not what your face says," you mirrored his smile. "At least wait a few days before you peel it off, okay?"

Instead of answering, he turned to kiss the center of your palm, his smile growing wider. He knew that he wasn't taking it off any time soon.

#fic recs #☁️

[usertala]

Can you use the read more function on a post instead of just warning about spoilers??

Ah im so sorry will do this right away!

#tala <3

[usertala]

when people write dad!(character name) it's always about you being the other parent, it's never you being the child. i don't want a child bro, i want to be the child. because i want that character to fulfill my sad, broken, traumatized heart. i need the love, the support, the stability, the happy family feeling. pleaseeeeeeee write for the reader as a child. i'll send you all the cookies or hugs in the world, whatever you like more. tag me in those works, i'll read them all, like it, reblog it, comment on it.