Just When I Thought My Comics Couldn't Get Dumber... I Surprise Myself 👭

‘the king of curses doesn’t like sharing. especially not when it comes to his partner.’

☀︎｜tags. heian era!sukuna x female reader. sfw/fluff ? ig. set in the heian era, duh. jealousy & possessive themes. size difference (reader gets referred to as small!). tried to be realistic w/ sukuna’s characterisation so. . . don’t be surprised to read about him killing somebody. therefore, mentions of blood. reader is implied to have a fear of blood (dw sukuna takes care of it teehee). reader gets called 'brat'. not beta read; this sucks ass.

you were taking a stroll outside of the estate, the hem of the floral kimono you’re wearing lightly dragging along behind you. the weather was perfect with not a single cloud in sight.

a pair of silent footsteps follow yours and you sigh. even though it was an usual occurrence, you still aren’t used to having one of sukuna’s servants at your side at all times. your over protective lover insisted that it was for your own ‘safety’. as if anything or anyone could harm you whilst you stay within the four walls of the estate far up in the mountains.

sukuna is continuously busy and thus decided to assign you a personal maid that accompanies you and takes care of your every need when he isn’t able to. well - looking at the bright side of things - at least she tries her best to hide her presence from you. she tags along silently and only speaks when spoken to.

you stop near a sakura tree and tilt your head back to admire its beauty. after a few minutes pass, you hear a different pair of footsteps walking up your way. you turn your head and see a familiar male servant approaching you with his head held low.

his hands were holding onto a platter with a cup of warm tea and a few of your favorite delicacies. the brown-haired man greets you politely. maybe a bit too politely as his voice carries a bright smile, “good afternoon, my lady.”

you return the greeting with a smile of your own. it was like you to treat the servants around the estate with kindness and care — a total opposite of the king of curses. you take a pastry from the platter and look back up at the man, “thank you for bringing me these. i appreciate it greatly.”

the way you treat the ones of lower status has always been an admirable trait of yours. it might have stirred some forbidden feelings for you in the heart of the male servant. he knows that it was impossible - he’d seen how easily sukuna gets rid of those who get too close to you.

but, he isn’t here. the king of curses isn’t present in the current moment. the brown-haired male shifts in his place a little, fingernails digging into the material of the plate he was holding. he was going to do it — no one could hold him back. not even the maid who stood a couple steps away.

“y-you look very beautiful, my lady.” the servant stutters and bows his head at you. you are surprised to hear such a flattering sentence leave the lips of the man in front of you. none of the men around you had dared to be this straightforward in ages. they all knew the possible consequences that such actions could bring after all.

perhaps it was due to the absent intimidating presence of your lover. still, you can’t help but feel grateful. you giggle softly, covering your mouth with your free hand, “thank you so much.”

the male servant gulps at the sound of your laughter. ‘oh, how lucky the king of curses is - to have such a beautiful woman at his side,’ the man thought to himself. he was sure that he could treat you better than the indifferent sukuna himself.

he hesitates to continue the conversation for a second. there was an urge deep within him; to ask if you’d like to have some tea with him in the dining area. it would be extremely bold and maybe way out of line considering that you’re taken.

but, the way you reacted to his earlier compliment gave him a huge confidence boost. one that would sooner or later send him to his grave.

“would you perhaps be interested in joining me for a drink, my lady?” the servant asks and anything that happens after that instant, is all but a blur.

you can’t process the next few moments as everything happens way too fast. the last thing you remember seeing, was the servant before you. a sudden gust of wind passes by and the sounds of quick slashes fill your ears. you couldn’t figure out anything else as your vision gets blocked by something. or rather - someone.

a familiar and large hand covers the back of your head. the scent of the person holding you is also oddly familiar—a certain scent that made a shiver run down your spine from both excitement and light fear.

“sukuna?” you guess and guess correctly. your voice was muffled due to your face being smushed against his torso. you didn’t yet understand what happened, so you try to pull your body away from the king of curses, only for his grip on you to tighten.

sukuna’s face was as emotionless as ever. his eyes look down at the pile of blood near your feet — what was once a human being had now turned into nothing but a pure crimson liquid.

“foolish. absolutely foolish.” the king of curses grumbles, his tone filled with disgust. he doesn’t soften the grip on your body for even a moment. one of his four arms holds you captive against him, his hand firmly yet somehow tenderly cradling your head just above his midriff, “it seems that i cannot leave this place for a single second.”

sukuna glances at your personal maid who had been bowing to him the moment he appeared out of thin air. she could feel his piercing gaze on her and knew exactly what to do without being told: to clean up the mess that stained the garden’s pavement.

“sukuna,” you try to move your head again, but was still restricted. you let out a small whine in response. you just wanted to see your lover after spending an entire day without him. any thoughts about that servant from earlier had long vanished, “i want to see you. can i?”

the request is an innocent one. there isn’t a visible change in sukuna's expression, but the way you asked him that was quite. . . endearing, if he were to explain it. he would comply if it wasn’t for the literal bloodbath he created. which he doesn’t want you to witness.

“not yet.” he replies and effortlessly uses one of his arms to pick your small body up. your lover notices how you try to steal a glimpse at the scene behind you while he moves you around in his embrace. he grunts and gently smacks the back of your head, “no peeking, brat. do as told.”

sukuna knows how much you hate the sight of blood. he's being considerate towards you — even if you do not realise that just yet. however, he also does not have a single regret about murdering that servant. it was to be expected. anybody who dares to make a move on his woman should suffer his wrath.

plus, it's not like you don't know about sukuna's ruthless actions. you’ve come to get used to them; more and more male servants keep dissappearing without a trace after they’ve been ‘too friendly' with you. it's easy to guess who’s behind those disappearances.

it doesn’t bother you in the slightest. as long as you don't see it happening and as long as you get to stay under sukuna's care and protection - you don’t mind.

“can i look now?” you huff after sukuna has carried you away from the garden. the king of curses clicks his tongue at your impatience.

he sighs deeply before allowing you back on your own two feet, “i do not understand why you’re so adamant on looking at me, but fine.”

you waste no time and immediately open your eyes. your gaze doesn’t wander off towards your surroundings—it instantly settles on sukuna. he looked the same as usual; there was not a single change about his appearance and yet you find yourself smiling at the sight of him.

“i missed you.” you hug your lover and feel him returning the gesture a few seconds later. he looks the other way and may seem indifferent to your display of affection, though the man was secretly grateful for it. for you in general.

“mhm.” sukuna lets out a small noise of acknowledgment and that is all you get out of him. he doesn’t have to say much; his body automatically does the talking. he squeezes your body against his — your small frame disappearing behind his beefy arms.

the king of curses doesn’t understand why, but the way your eyes sparkle when looking at him, intrigues him. sukuna had never seen another human look at him like that before after all. they all cower in fear; except for you. you don’t show a single ounce of fear. thus why you are something - someone - he must keep for himself.

he has and will never have any intent on sharing you with anyone. you’re his, for as long as he exists.

ᡣ𐭩 Choso x fem!reader

ᡣ𐭩 cunningulus

One thing Choso always makes sure to do is worship you. He loves you deeply and one way he likes to show it, is through actions. He loves to take his time with you when you are particularly tired to have sex, and he doesn’t want you to move even a single finger, letting him do everything.

He finds you laying on your stomach in bed and his eyes scans down your body, especially at the way the short nightdress clings to your body. He slowly walks closer to the bed, his gaze trailing down your legs and your soft skin that he can’t wait to touch. He hovers above you, softly leaving kisses all over your bare shoulders and neck, before kissing your cheek as you keep your eyes closed. When you ask him what he is doing, he will simply tell you that he wants to take care of you.

He positions himself between your legs and leans down to kiss your ankles, calves and back of your thighs where he reaches the hem of your nightdress. He glances up at you and, with a soft voice, he asks you, “can I remove your dress, baby?”.

And how can you tell him no. So you nod, and he thanks you as he raises the dress slowly, whining at the sight of your drenched cunt under it and your perfect ass. He leaves teasing kisses there before following the raising dress with his lips.

You help him remove it and, when you are left naked under him, Choso can’t help but palm his cock in his pants, already stiff and leaking just from the sight of you. He leans down, his hands moving to your hips and massaging your skin gently while he leaves kisses against the back of your thighs, slowly making his way up.

Sometimes, a “you’re so beautiful” or “i love you so much” leave his lips because he can’t help but praise you anytime he is close to you. He gently spreads your legs apart and smiles when he hears your giggle and sees you squirming slightly because he accidentally tickled you.

He licks his lips at the sight of your wet folds waiting for him. He kisses your ass, spreading your buttocks to reach your cunt better. He moans softly at the smell of you and you hear the bed moving slightly because Choso is rutting against the mattress, turned on by you.

He praises you as he leans down to lick and slurp your juices, exploring your folds and making sure to give your little bud attention. But he wants to make the moment last, so he pulls away reluctantly, and kisses his way up your back, his hands following him.

He makes you turn around and when you look up, you see his half lidded eyes full of desire and tenderness looking down at you. He eagerly meets your lips when you pull him down, and lets your tongues meet sloppily. He is soft with you, and touches you as if you were pure porcelain under his cure. Even during the kiss, his hand gently cup your face, moaning softly at the sweet taste your mouth has.

Then he starts over again. He kisses his way up from your feet, until he reaches your soft inner thighs. He spreads your legs wide and you giggle softly at the sensation of his breath hitting your skin. His gaze is fixed on your pussy and the way it beckons him to get closer, get a taste. He nudges his nose against your folds, groaning before he properly licks a stripe up, kissing your cunt shortly after.

He revels in the moans you let out, thinking that there isn’t anything better than that sound. If he could keep you like this forever, he thinks he would. Because for him, there is nothing better than have you relaxed and happy while he takes care of you.

And he doesn’t really care that his cock is hard against his pants, because he wants to take care of you, and he can wait a little bit more. So he happily makes out with your wet pussy, his hands moving to the back of your knees and pushing them against your chest, blocking you under him. Choso is messy and even if you complain, he doesn’t stop.

Your juices combined with his spit dribble down your asshole, but Choso is quick to lick it away too, making sure than when he is done, you’re all clean. He lowers your legs when you complain that you can’t take it anymore because in these moments he wants to make you feel good and relax, not overstimulate you. He leaves one last kiss to your swollen pussy, and kisses up your navel and stomach, getting ready to give your breasts the well deserved attention.

When you look down at him, you have to suppress a smile at the sight of his fucked out face, his eyes soft and completely lost in the sight of you. He is bewitched from you and the only thing he can think about is worshipping you. Worshipping you as if you were his goddess.

You caress his hair as he wraps his lips around your nipple, whining when he can’t give the same attention to the other. So he switches nipple and closes his eyes while he sucks on it. His hands palm lazily at your tits and you observe how he relaxes on top of you, sloppily grinding his covered cock against your thigh.

Your nipples are stiff and swollen when Choso is done with them and, when you glance at his face, his eyes are half lidded and fixed on your face, a blissful expression on his.

He loves to worship you and make you feel loved, so when he is done, you’re almost asleep from the way he gently took care of you. You can see in his enraptured expression that he enjoys doing this, so whenever you’re tired, you patiently wait for him to fulfill his desires to worship you.

(m.list)

How would L manifest his affection towards his so?

Mentions of sex but nothing even slightly explicit. Lengthy headcanon collection because I love my panda cupcake. He’s so gorgeous and he deserved so much better. 

In the strangest, most subtle of ways.

Head pats are very common.

He’d walk past you and as he does so, a spidery hand comes out of nowhere and plops unceremoniously on your head. His touch is so gentle it causes a cold shiver at the base of your spine. It’s over so quickly but the ghost of his touch lingers for much longer.

He’ll stare at you. Often and for no reason.

He doesn’t even hide it. He just blatantly stares at you, an owlish expression on his face and a thumb between his lips.

There’s no way that you can’t feel his gaze on you but if you tell him that he’s making you uncomfortable or you ask him to stop, he’ll apologise but not sound even a little sorry and carry on staring.

If you get up and move into another room, he’ll jump up and follow you. he may well resemble a puppy - tell him to go away and he’ll look like one, too.

Will give you strawberries. If you’re allergic to those or dislike them, then it’s another sweet something he knows you like.

He’ll wordlessly dangle it in the air near you, his usual two finger grip making you nervous for the fate of the treat.

He won’t say anything, he won’t even look, he’ll just hold it up in the air in your general area.

If you take it, he smiles to himself. If not, he shrugs, eats the treat himself and goes right back to working.

If you seem to be emotionally out of sorts or physically showing signs of anything negative or nervousness, he’ll wrap an arm around your shoulder, fingers pressing delicately into your neck.

This serves two purposes: pulse check and comfort.

It’s more efficient.

Random gifts left on your pillow. Wrapped in white paper and tied with a black ribbon. Packaging is messy, not wrapped very well and looks like something a child would do.

Always something you’ve eyed over the last month as you walk past a shop window. 

You always know it’s from him and you thank him in your way and maybe even buy him a gift in return.

There’s no reason for the gift he gives you, it’s just because he likes to give you things, it’s a way he shows affection.

Your smile makes him smile.

When you come out of the shower or bath and you’re carrying on with your evening, a towel will randomly and without warning drop over your eyes. 

Spidery hands will then descend upon you and ruffle your hair, drying it even if it’s already close to being dry. 

He does this because you do it to him when his hair drips all over the keyboard and you don’t want him to have to replace the electronics in the room, so you help him out because he won’t do it himself.

He does this to you because it’s reciprocation, which he understands is one of the fundamentals of a successful and healthy relationship.

He lets you help him with his cases. If you have an idea, even if you’re not even in that same career, he’ll listen to you and then either reject it with the facts of the case, or put a thumb between his lips and add your theory to the list.

L never expects it from you but when you’re right, you’re gifted with an actual smile with teeth and a warm look.

When you’re wrong, he thanks you sincerely, briefly, and then goes back to work.

Had you been Matsuda, he would have followed this sentiment with an insult to your intelligence but he understands this to be something you don’t say to your s/o, and so he keeps scathing remarks to himself.

Sometimes there’ll be a quick rap on your bedroom door and he’ll let himself in, climbing wordlessly into bed with you. He’d curl up, say very little, and actually get some sleep.

He doesn’t tell you that it’s because he desperately wants sleep but doesn’t want the nightmares.

You keep his nightmares away.

Watari told you when you mentioned it and nothing more was said.

Sometimes, when you’re either very lucky or truly sad, L will use conventional means of affection.

A hug which starts as that pulse-check arm around your neck and then he pulls you into his strong yet slender form, his chin resting atop your head (he’s tall when he straightens his back) and his eyes dark as he ponders your distress.

L knows, of course he knows, but he waits for you to say it. He won’t intrude upon your privacy.

Anyone else’s, sure, but never you.

A kiss to your cheek when you surprise him with sweets or when you’re holding him in the dark, his eyes wet and his body shaking.

A proper kiss when you pass an exam or go to an appointment yourself or remember to take your meds without any prompting (apps don’t count as prompting; if he doesn’t have to tell you, you’ll get a kiss on your mouth as a reward - classical conditioning? Yes but he’d never admit to it) or anything which normally costs you something mentally.

Sex is rare. He doesn’t have much of a drive but if you’re feeling it, he’ll reciprocate. He doesn’t ever need it, but sometimes if there’s a close call on a case and he nearly dies, he definitely crawls into your bed with carnal intentions.

For anything, L rarely ever says no to you. He tries, sometimes, but largely he can’t stick to it and he acquiesces, if only to see you smiling at him.

‘I love you’ isn’t something said within the Japanese culture (that exact phrase is seen as soul bonding, even married couples don’t say it to each other), but he isn’t purely Japanese. Still, he’s a citizen so the cultural habits stick. 

He doesn’t say it, he shows it, and this is something important to remember.

On the times you say it to him, though, his eyes will hold yours and he’ll kiss you delicately, his hands cradling your face. He does love you, he does, and sometimes he thinks you’ll be the death of him.

Death Note:  @amoureux-de-la-litterature  @xiumincancallmebabyanytime @hagridsbeasts @shingeki-no-julchen @miyakokurono @sanity-is-overratedxp @distressed-honking @my-aestheticdaydreams @phantom-fangirl-stuff @writings-of-a-gen-z @cryptic-trash-cat 

Hi flamey! I love how much you love Kyojuro because same.

Do you think he has any sexual quirks? Like a habit or anything unusual he does during sex?

He definitely has habits!

Like how he kisses you constantly throughout. The only time his lips get to rest are the few seconds he takes to shift positions, otherwise they're locked on you; your lips, your neck, chest, palm of your hand, wrist, inner thigh...

And the way he checks in, no matter your dynamic with him. Like this? Does that feel good? Am I doing right? Am I doing well for you?

Or how during the throes of his orgasm he winds his arms tight around you and holds you as close as he can, pressing his face into your shoulder. He just wants to be near to you.

And then he thanks you, every time, without fail, all sleepy and rosy-cheeked, soft and warm as he gazes at you through half-closed golden eyes.

Random thoughts on Nanami Kento :

This perfect husband material is nothing but respectful, careful and soft with you . Waking up you get a kiss “ good morning “ in the morning voice making you wet in an instant.

Going out for the office “ bye love “ again a kiss on the forehead and lips (might be steamy but mostly he has good control )

Little texts whenever he is free “ How are you feeling ?” are you alright, ate lunch ?” 

“Gojo is getting on my nerves i need someone to hold me back from killing him  “ and more. 

If you come home later than him you are always welcomed with the lovely smell of home cooked lavish meal “Welcome love freshen up let's eat “ his face stoic but adored with a little smile which you know is only for you!

If he comes later than you you welcome him with the same, if cooking is not your strong point it ends with both of you cooking dinner together (mostly he does you are an assistant ). 

After dinner, it is always with you both enjoying your alone time with TV or a nice cup of hot milk and conversations about your day. Or there are times he comes homes all pent up and fucks you the moment his eyes see you. 

Loves cafe dates with you day or night not matter if he can have you dress up and come out, loves seeing you getting ready and has amazing taste in clothing. (his tie is just for fun he did not wear it in his office )

The gentleman who is known till 9 pm vanishes and is replaced with a monster who is a pathetic beggar for your pussy “ pleasee let me eat you out pleaseee” his fox eyes pleading with you holding your legs apart. 

His tongue is so skilled he makes sure every night you come at least twice or thrice on it before he fucks you with his cock . 

His strong arms hold you down while he fucks you in missionary slowly but can go fast on your command. His moments are ruled by your words “Tell me princess what should I do “ he asks panting drilling his cock deep into your cunt as your cry out telling him to make a mess out of you. 

Never says no to any kink open to all, being the simple man he is he does not have many kinks ….STOPP. 

This man is a walking sex symbol, soo into BDSM, having you tied, whipping you you name it it's in his kink book he is not a  simple man and open to all, he is just so much more kinker than you, you kinks are little request to him . 

He can fuck you anywhere and everywhere, always takes consent and role plays with him are soo good, teacher-student, master-slave you name it its done princess~

After fucking the life out of you or slow sensational love making the first thing that comes out of his mouth is “ you okay ? “ “ need anything ? “ . Again your words are his command bath, done warm with bath bombs, and water, ready, want to just sleep, no worries he has a cloth next to the nightstand wipes you a little and holds you close in his arms watching your face relax as you fall into a deep slumber “ thank you and love you “ he mumbles kissing your eyes he might fall asleep looking at you or if there is work he has to do its done now . 

His worry that you would worry if he would come home or not every day kills him yet he tries to be on time , messages you if he cannot come always keeps in touch with you and loves you just for the mere fact you love a man like him who might die anytime any day, you are his light source in his dark monotonous life.

— HEAD SO GOOD HE A HONOR ROLL ! +18

feat. nanami kento

warnings. explicit content. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

nanami is obsessed with eating pussy and nobody can change my mind. that man eats pussy for breakfast, lunch and dinner. if he could, he’d stay between your legs for the rest of his life if you let him. quite literally STARVED. a true honorary honor roll member.

the second you wake up? his head is in between your thighs. you’re working from home? he’ll make you to sit on his face while you do it. you’re making dinner? best believe that man is on his knees tongue deep inside your pussy desperate to have your cream all over his face. and since you’re his pretty baby, there’s no way he’d be able to stay silent when doing so. it only makes sense that he says things like:

“my pretty baby looked so good, had to get a taste of you”

“fuck baby, this pussy is so wet. you like when i suck that clit?”

“you want me to add another finger? you’re such a dirty girl”

“c’mon sweetheart, come on my fucking tongue. give me all of it”

and one thing he does not condone is hovering. when he tells you to sit on his face, he means sit on his fucking face. none of that hovering bullshit. when you complain that you’re too heavy, he grabs your hips, pulling you down onto his face, and he’ll begin grinding your hips on his tongue, exploring your dripping heat. and don’t even try to lift your hips up— it won’t work and he’ll keep you say on his face until you’ve came about 5 times.

he loves suckling on your clit while his fingers massage your walls. it gets him so fucking hard hearing your lewd moans and feeling the way you’d pull his hair. no matter how many times you claim it gets “too much,” nanami knows what you can handle. and unless you’re crying and shaking for him to stop, he’ll continue.

your spread missionary as he suckles and nibbles on your clit, his fingers fucking into you at a desperate pace, missing the taste of your cream even though he’s already had you twice today. when he hears your whines become louder and the way you start pushing him away aggressively (he fights it and continues to eat your pussy), he knows you're close. his mouth opens wide as you writhe and squirt on his tongue, watching him as he moans and grunts. his hips rock into the mattress beneath him as he fills his boxers with hot n sticky ropes of come.

“that was hot, baby” he breathes, “made me come in my pants like a teenager sweet girl, that’s what your pussy does to me.”

Absinthe

Vampire!Choso x reader

Warnings: nsfw/mdni. shameless smut. mentions of murder/suicide, blood and gore, slight body horror, mild predator/prey dynamic, yandere!choso. monsterfucking, biting, blood play, blood drinking, face sitting/riding, cunnilingus, semi-public sex, somnophilia mention, mildly dubious consent (the reader is into it but they're also slightly terrified, tagging it as this just in case), mild praise kink (choso calls the reader a good girl), fem reader.

Summary: when a series of violent murders plagues your sleepy town, your life is seemingly turned on its head. more and more women are being killed by the day. the possible threat of a serial killer looms over your head. you find yourself seeking comfort in your strange, but beautiful roommate

Word count: 7.6k

jjk masterlist

tagging: @naoyas90dayfiance @jujutsukuna :)

There's something weird about your roommate.

More specifically, his older brother.

When you first found this place, it almost seemed too good to be true. A three bedroom house for rent, within walking distance of your work, with rent going for dirt cheap. The one—and seemingly only—downside was that the top floor of the house was under renovations, and was barren, leaving only one working bathroom downstairs. Which you didn't mind. The owner of the house was an older woman, renting the place out to earn some extra money after the death of her husband.

In a town full of college kids, the offer was too good to pass up. Who knew when an opportunity like that would just fall into your lap again?

Though you and your roommate could cover the rent together, having a third roommate would take some stress off the two of you. Along came Itadori, a freshman at the nearby college. Yuji was a sweet kid. A little odd, but not outstandingly weird. Although ideally you wanted your third roommate to be another woman, he was nice enough, and he could pay rent on time. Yuji was the least strangest person out of everyone who applied, so not long after he was moving in.

And in the first few months, you didn't see much of him. Your work schedules are complete opposites, and he had class during the day. He always says hi to you when you run into him in the hall, and he gladly takes any leftovers you have when you cook. He’s a little dumb, but sweet, and seems to make friends with everyone he meets.

After your other roommate found a job in another city, and had to move out, you were desperate for another one. Between a college student making slightly more than minimum wage, and your job at the morgue, there was little money to spare. Plus, there was an extra room in the house. Soon, finding a new roommate became a priority.

Then along came Choso.

Choso is pleasant enough, albeit stranger than his little brother. You've met him a handful of times. Mostly on late, drunken nights where you're fumbling with the keys to your house. You can't say you know him too well. Your conversations were typically short, and always in passing. Even before he moved in, he was often over, visiting Itadori. The two are close. Yuji vouched for him, your landlord liked him well enough, and soon he was moving in.

Over the past few weeks, not much has changed in your daily routine. Your job consumed most of your time. Choso, however strange, yet oddly charming, became nothing more than background noise. He settled in rather fast. He paid his rent on time, and though he seemed to sleep at the strangest hours of the day, he was respectful, and quiet. A step above some of the previous roommates you've had.

Slowly he fell to the back of your mind.

Then it happened.

A body was found. Out in the woods behind an apartment complex. On the riverbank trail. As it's a fairly busy path, the body was discovered quickly.

The first was deemed an accident. Primarily a suicide, as the woman showed no signs of self defense, but had a boxcutter on her person.

Her body was completely drained of blood.

You've never seen anything like it.

It's an odd way to commit suicide. Women generally overdose as a method. Such a gruesome act is uncommon. As a whole, such a method is hard, as not many people are able to stab themselves in the throat in such a way. When people end up on your table, it's usually from natural causes, and the occasional car accident. Not suicide. That’s not to say it's impossible. But it's rare.

It's a big city. One near a college. People—usually students—go missing. Either of their own free will, or from drunken accidents. Murders happen, sure, but not frequently. And most are often solved within weeks. There's no rivaling gangs, or some sick serial killer on the loose.

Or so people first assumed.

The incisions on their necks are clean. Not clean enough to have been done with a scalpel, but clean. No tears. Right down to their carotid artery. Severing it completely.

Such a cut would kill any normal human in minutes. Seconds, sometimes. Blood loss would kick in and they would fall unconscious. But they show no signs of fighting back. There's no signs of a struggle at each of the crime scenes. The victims either knew their attacker, or were caught completely off guard.

But none of them knew each other. One girl wasn't even from town. There's nothing connecting the victims that keep appearing on your table, except for they are all around your age. Mid twenties. Young, but not too young. Most are freshly out of college, or are in their final years. And they’re all women.

Worst of all, where does all the blood go? Though it's rare for you to see the crime scenes itself, you’ve been shown photos. The blood is gone. If the women were killed there, there would be blood. Everywhere. But there isn't. And if the bodies were moved, there would be bruising, or dirt on the deceased. But again, there isn't. There's no sign of the bodies being moved after their time of death.

For others, this was worrying. For you, this became a typical Tuesday. If it was a murder, it’d be solved soon. But tracking down murderers isn't your job. Dealing with the dead is. Slowly you pushed these thoughts to the back of your mind.

He comes to you in the dead of sleep. Soft. Cold. Silent.

You used to find solace in being alone. You're a solitary person, finding comfort in loneliness, taking much joy in it. Often you'd make jokes that you prefer the dead over the living. But lately, you find yourself turning from your solitude. Wondering what the dark on your walk home brings. What lurks in the shadows that follow you.

His visits are fleeting. So is his touch. But in its wake it brings a cold comfort.

At first they were nightmares. Sleep paralysis. Or so you've explained it as. In the late hours of the night, bleeding into the early hours of the morning, you find yourself frozen in fear. The silhouette that lurks in the corner of your room never speaks, only watching you with cold eyes. Some days he comes to sit on the edge of your bed. You don't truly know if it's a he. But the figure much resembles a man, though you never get to see his face.

You've stopped drinking. Alcohol only makes you feel sick. And the older you get, the longer your hangovers last, and the more your anxiety spikes during them. You don't understand how Yuji can go out partying each night, and come home to get ready for classes the next morning.

The boys continue on with their daily life. Yuji goes to class. Choso goes to work.

You find comfort in being around Choso. Yuji is gone most hours of the day. Hanging out with friends, or going to classes. Choso works nights. Though his schedule seems to change around a lot. You're not quite sure what he does for a living. He sleeps all day, only to be up and ready for work by the time you arrive home in the evenings.

More bodies appear. Two women.

They were discovered the same day, but times of death varied. The one had been dead for over several days when she was found, while the other was still warm. Medical examiner placed her time of death a few hours before she was found, not far from the other body. Neither bodies showed any sign of being moved—or other traumas—after death.

It's slowly sinking in that there may be a serial killer on the loose. One that takes much joy in draining the blood of young women. A silent, cold terror falls over your sleepy town.

The killings were slow at first. The original was discovered weeks before the second two. But the cause of death was too similar in both cases to overlook.

It didn't start to get to you until one of your coworkers wound up on your table. Her pale body drained of blood. She had invited you out for drinks. Which you refused. You had said goodnight to her the previous evening.

And little did you know, you would be the last person to see her alive.

You can't help but wonder what would have happened to you if you agreed. Would that be you? Would you have been the one on your cold metal table? Would your family be called in to identify your pale, bloodless body?

You were quickly ruled out as a suspect. The cameras outside your work caught you heading home at 6:30pm. She was killed somewhere around midnight. Not to mention, the cameras at the train station caught you taking your usual ride home. Out of everyone questioned, all of them said you weren't capable of such a thing.

The rest of the day was a blur of questions. That night you would come home, dragging your feet through the door. Yuji was away at a party. Choso was the only one home, sitting on the couch, idly switching his attention between his phone, and a movie. It was his day off. Even when he's not working, he's practically nocturnal. Though he's rather quiet, and respectful of everyone's sleep schedules, so you can't complain too much.

Maybe he noticed your grim appearance. Up until now, he'd been distant. He was rather timid, and shy. You made polite small talk when you ran into each other before work, but aside from that, your interactions were few. He was a little awkward, but had the same charms as his brother. Talking to him was rather easy.

"How was work?" He asks.

"Okay," you say. Out of respect for the dead, you generally skip the details. "Tiring. But since when is that new?"

You join him on the couch, tossing your keys and purse onto the coffee table. There's a certain slump to your shoulders that he hasn't noticed before. The dark circles under your eyes are only getting bigger. You're practically dragging yourself through the house. You’re not certain you have enough energy to both cook dinner, and shower, so you find yourself wondering which one you need to do the least.

"What's the matter?"

You're silent for a moment. You consider whether or not it's a big enough issue to tell him, or to just drop it.

"I had to process one of my coworkers today." You say. "I don't know what the hell I’m supposed to tell her husband. She invited me to go out to a bar with her last night. I didn't feel up to it, so I cancelled on her,

“And I know it's probably selfish of me to think this, but I could have just as easily been the one on the table today. Ready to be dissected by all my unknowing co-workers. And I'm just relieved it wasn't me,

"I realize that's a shitty thing to say. That doesn't suddenly exclude me from this guy's sick fantasies. The police aren't any closer to finding him than they first were!"

He can hear the anger in your voice. The frustration, and grief. He wants to do something to help, though he’s struck with uncertainty. You need time to grieve. Perhaps being alone is what's best for you right now.

Though you aren't looking at him, you feel his gaze turn to you. His eyes linger on you for a while before he speaks.

“I think you’re smart enough that he won't go after you.” He says.

Somehow you don't believe him.

Because you’re the killer’s type.

"I know this sounds weird," you say, "but can you… hold me? Just for a little bit?"

He nods, and opens his arms, not even taking a moment to consider it, just agreeing. Almost as if he's been waiting for this moment. Instinctively you go into them. He's not very warm, but there's an odd comfort to his presence. He pulls you to sit in his lap, his arms wrapping around your waist. His body rocks yours with each breath he takes.

You could swear there's not a heartbeat in his chest. You chalk it up to the thick hoodie he wears. The fabric of it is rather soft, and you run your fingers across it to help calm yourself.

"You really tired yourself out today, huh?" He asks.

You nod.

It would be easier to stay awake if you weren't so tired, or if his hoodie wasn't so soft, or if he wasn't softly rocking you in his arms.

He's there when you fall asleep. By the time you wake up, the sun has long since set, and he's gone to work. A blanket has been thrown over you, but you're still wearing your work clothes.

As time wears on, you spend more time around Choso. Exhaustion seeps into your very core. No matter how many hours you sleep, you wake up bone tired. He helps you cook, clean, and keep things around the house in order. Though you can very well do them yourself, he insists. And some nights you're too tired to refuse.

Mysterious scratches have begun appearing on your body. You've always moved around a lot in your sleep. At first, you didn't think much of it. But as more kept appearing, and as you grew more tired despite sleeping the same each night, you began to get worried. This prompted you to visit your doctor. It was about time you go in for a yearly checkup anyway.

Your doctor said your iron was low, and gave you a prescription for some vitamins. After taking them, and getting more rest, you began to feel better. Healing was a gradual, slow process, but soon you were cleared to go back to work. Choso still helped around the house. The routine you settled into felt like that of partners, more than of roommates.

And when more bodies would wind up on your table, lifeless against the cold metal slab, you would fall asleep in his arms. Sometimes on the couch. Sometimes you'd crawl into his bed, like a child wanting comfort from their parents after a nightmare. Seeking out his presence for the few hours before he had to leave for work. And most nights he was awake, Opening his arms for you to crawl into. He was always respectful, never making any odd comments, or touching you if you didn't want to be touched. There was a healthy apprehension behind his actions, that of any man thrown into such a position. He was sweet. Always making sure you were eating enough, and getting enough sleep, never wanting to make you uncomfortable.

More often than not, you were in his bed. Even when he was away, it provided a sense of comfort. It always smelled so nice—like him, and his cologne—and was far more comfortable than your own. As fall turned into winter, and the house's heating stopped working, you found yourself seeking him out more. Together the two of you would nap, and bask in the other's warmth.

Or his lack of such.

You hardly remember the night. It was a Friday. Yuji was—to no one's surprise—out partying, and would be gone for most of the weekend. After work you stopped at the farmers market, catching it before it shut down for the night, gathering some ingredients needed to make a soup.

The walk home was uneventful. Normally you'd take the train. But it was nice out, and the sky was clear, albeit cold.

Choso is sitting on the couch when you get home. A movie plays on the tv, though he pays no attention to it. He's only wearing sweatpants. His hair is down loose around his shoulders, and is still damp. He must have just gotten out of the shower. You hope there's still some hot water left.

You're not subtle in the way your gaze lingers on him. He’s attractive, you won't deny that. He hides himself in baggy clothes. It's no surprise to you. You've spent many nights tracing the hard planes of muscle. His arms have always brought you a feeling of security. Many nights you spent with your head leaned against his chest, listening for the beating of his heart.

You set the groceries down, and head to your room to change out of your work clothes. From a pile of clothes abandoned on your chair you pull a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. You've been meaning to fold your laundry, but between work, and everything else going on in life, it's slipped your mind. You make a mental note to do laundry tomorrow morning. Your basket is getting full.

He’s still on the couch when you come out, idly scrolling through his phone. You sit beside him. Though you’re hungry, you’ll wait a bit to start dinner. It won't take long, it's only a matter of thawing some meat, and boiling everything in a pot together. Not particularly complex, though a bit time consuming. With the weather growing colder, it sounded nice.

You join Choso on the couch, practically sprawling out across his lap. His arms find your waist and pull you to sit a little closer to him. You lean into his touch, your arms wrapping around his neck.

"How was work?" He asks.

"A shitshow." You say. "Another girl turned up."

"That's the second one this week?"

"Third." You say. Though you didn't know her personally, she worked in your building. A receptionist. Only a few years younger than you. Out of college for two years. Studied mortuary science. “This keeps happening! They’re never going to find who’s doing it!”

The irritation in your voice is palpable. Choso doesn't like seeing you in distress. One of his hands finds your head, stroking your hair. His nails are getting long, and feel nice against your scalp.

"You'll be alright.” He says. “I won't let anything happen to you.”

He can't promise that unless you never leave his side. Which you just might.

That's when he pulls you into a kiss.

It catches you entirely off guard. His lips are soft, and the smell of his shampoo is so inviting you can feel yourself leaning into him. For a moment you forget to breathe.

He’s the first to pull away. A faint blush dusts his cheeks, the tip of his nose, and his ears. He turns his head away to hide the smile that creeps up on his lips. From this angle, all you can see is the panic that flashes across his eyes.

“I sorry if that was too forward-” apologies are spilling from his mouth in an instant.

“Choso,” you say, “we’ve been sleeping in the same bed. I'm alright with you kissing me.”

He takes that as permission to continue, pulling you back to deepen the kiss. Your hands tangle in his soft hair. His hands find your hips, greedily kneading the soft flesh of your ass. It's hard to deny the heat that pools between your thighs. His touch sends shocks of electricity up your spine. Wherever his fingers touch, warmth blooms across your skin. You're left with an ache in your core, one that can only be fixed by his touch. He doesn't protest as you grind down against his toned thigh.

You don't even know how long he's wanted to do this.

It's only when you're out of breath, and have to come up for air that he speaks.

“Ride my face.” He says.

You stop. And for a moment he worries he's crossed a line.

"I'm too heavy," you say, "I-I'd suffocate you-"

"Please do." He says, swallowing hard. “I’d die a happy man."

The thought of you using him to get off in such a way warms his cold blood. His pupils have shrunk down to pinpricks.

“Just… shove me off if it gets to be too much,” you say, “or pinch me, or something. I don't want you dying on me.”

“Of course.” He says. The monotone edge to his voice is forced. Behind it you can hear excitement bubbling through.

He's quick to help free you of your shorts, letting out a soft hum of amusement as he realizes you have nothing on underneath. You rarely slept with panties on. Or at least you didn't until you started crawling into bed with him. Either out of modesty, or respect for him, you started wearing shorts with every night shirt you wore to bed. He misses when he could get a good look at your sleeping body. But having you in his own bed was far better than watching you sleep from the corner of your room.

Before you can even stop him, he’s leaning back, pulling you to rest over his face. He's a lot stronger than he looks, manhandling you like you weigh nothing. The feeling of your warm thighs around his head is nearly enough to make him moan. He's not shy about how he adores this. How the taste of your cunt is enough to make his cock stand to attention. How the gasps and moans that leave you are like music to his ears. Your body is so warm and full of life against his. He’s savoring everything about you; how you sound, how you smell, how you taste. He’s quick to bring you to orgasm, working you up with his skilled tongue. Maybe it's the stress. Maybe it's because you haven't had sex in a while. You’ve had past partners, but none as attentive as him. Maybe you’re more pent up than you thought.

You ride out your orgasm on his face for all it's worth. Choso practically forces it out of you. He won't let you go until you’re shaking, and whimpering, and crying out his name like a prayer.

He helps guide you to sit in his lap. Exhausted, and thoroughly fucked-out. Your head falls into the crook of his neck, pressing soft kisses to the junction of flesh where his neck and shoulder meet. Idly your fingers trace the muscles in his arms. Those strong arms that have always made you feel so safe and secure.

Your free hand works lower, palming the bulge of his cock through his sweatpants. The sight of it is nearly enough to make you drool. You’re certain he wants it too. He’s painfully hard, leaking precum against his equally toned thighs, letting out the cutest noises as you grind against him.

The kiss he pulls you into is soft. You can taste yourself on his lips. Not that you mind. His hand moves to cup your face, his thumb tracing slow circles across your cheek.

You hardly hear the jingle of keys in the door.

Yuji drunkenly stumbles through the front door. You pull a blanket into your lap to help cover yourself, and hide Choso, who doesn't seem to be bothered by this at all. You should consider yourself lucky the couch is faced away from the door.

"Oh hey roomie!" Yuji says. "Where's Cho?"

You lean to the side, giving Yuji a better look at his brother. He greets him, and leaves, heading for the bathroom, where you soon hear the shower running.

He either does know, and is choosing not to say anything, or is blissfully ignorant. Both of which are equally possible. Yuji may not be the brightest bulb in the box, but credit where credit is due. He's not too stupid.

As much as you’d like to return the favor—or go for another round, as Choso tried to insist—you went straight to bed. Separate this time. You’re not about to fuck your roommate with his brother in the next room over.

Choso managed to keep his promise.

Less bodies began showing up.

It wasn't a gradual thing. They quite literally stopped appearing. There was the one unrelated murder, and a suicide, plus your usual deaths from natural causes, but no more exanguanations.

Slowly things returned to normal. It was like a fog had lifted. Winter dragged on like an endless death march, leaving the trees dead, and the grass brown. The new year rolled around, though you didn't do much to celebrate. Less and less you found yourself looking over your shoulder.

Choso was worried he had made things awkward. To be fair, things were awkward from the start. You began sleeping in your own bed again. Though you weren't necessarily cold towards him, you were more distant than in past weeks. As things at work began to settle down, you went back to your old routine.

Something has to change.

Maybe it started because of the colder weather, or lack of sunlight. You often found yourself exhausted, and sick. You were colder than normal. Not that the cold has been too much of an issue for you in the past, but it was like you couldn't warm up.

Choso—poor, sweet Choso—had a heated blanket that you spent many nights curled up under, on the opposite side of his bed. You sought him out for the little warmth he could provide.

And provide he did. Letting you curl up next to him, bringing you tea and soup when you’d fall sick, eating you out when you’d wake up in the early hours of the morning begging for him, a growing wetness between your thighs. It was odd how he rarely asked you to return the favor, but you did little to protest when he insisted on a second—or even a third—round.

If his younger brother noticed something was up, he never said anything about it. Though, knowing Yuji, he might have just thought the two of you were close friends.

The presence of his younger brother didn't stop him from fucking you across every flat surface in your house. In your own rooms, over the counter in the kitchen, on the couch when you have the place to yourself. Sometimes Yuji was home, sometimes he wasn't. He’d take you on the porch outside if you so pleased. But you don't. And you don't want your neighbors complaining any more than they do. You’re loud enough as it is with several walls separating you. But you make such sweet noises, and Choso wants everyone to hear them.

There are few things he likes seeing more than your pretty body writhing under his.

It was one of the not-so rare days you were calling out sick from work. You were told to rest up, and feel better soon. Which you had all intentions of. Choso had errands to run, and was gone before you even woke up. The other side of the bed was cold by the time you were up and moving.

You go about your day as normal, making tea, and breakfast although it's well past noon. Eggs and bacon sounded good. After breakfast, you settle down on the couch, with a blanket and more tea, intending on marathoning movies. The late morning turns into the early afternoon. Before you know it, the sun is setting.

When the door opens, you expect it to be Yuji, coming home after his classes.

In walks Choso, his arms drenched in blood.

It takes you nearly a minute to process the scene in front of you. During that time, the two of you both stare at each other, waiting for the other to speak.

Did he get hurt? Did someone attack him? Is this serial killer going after men now?!

“Holy shit!” You say. “What the hell happened?! Were you hurt?”

“Oh,” Choso says softly, “you’re home. I thought you’d still be at work.”

Though his tone is monotone, as usual, there's a hint of excitement behind his voice. Barely restrained. Like he's holding back.

“Come here,” you say, and slowly he walks forward, joining you on the couch, “are you going to tell me what happened?”

You give him a once over for any injuries, but find none. Is this blood even his?! The entire time he's silent, watching you through half-lidded eyes. Most of the people you deal with are dead. The living aren't exactly your forte.

“Hey, we need to get you to a doctor.” You say. “I can only do so much here. Why don't you go get changed. I’ll give you a ride to the ER.”

That's when he licks his hand.

“Gross!” You say, grabbing his wrist and wrenching it from his mouth. Is he having some sort of mental break? Do you need to call an ambulance? “Don't do that! Do you know how many diseases you could have just given yourself?!”

You cringe away as he tries to kiss you, planting your hands on his chest and giving him a good shove. Even as you think back to the morning’s—and the previous night’s—events, you find nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing outside of your normal routine has happened.

Aside from you calling out of work sick.

“Why don't we go get you cleaned up,” you say, trying to guide him to the bathroom, “we don't need you getting any blood on the furniture.”

Maybe if you distract him long enough it’ll give you time to call an ambulance. Or the police.

Just what has your poor, sweet Choso gotten himself into?

He doesn't protest as you run a bath, and help him get undressed. He tries to help you undress, but you simply swat his hands away, and tell him to let you take care of him.

If something happened, then his clothes might be evidence, so you make a mental note to not wash them. One of your neighbors must have seen something. A man walking home covered in blood in almost broad daylight wouldn't go unnoticed. Or so you’d assume. Granted, the overcast weather, and the setting sun would leave it pretty dark.

What makes you the most worried is the lack of wounds overall. If he got into a fight, it's more than likely he would have wounds on his hands. Even if he were using a weapon, the force needed to stab, slash, or cut another human being would bruise him. It's a lot harder to stab a person than you’d think. Not to mention you’ve got bones and muscles in the way. Unless you truly knew where to aim—or got really lucky—there would be signs.

The water turns a bright shade of pink as you help scrub him down. He can't help but think of how much better it’d be if you got into the water with him. And how nice your body would look covered in red.

Choso can sense the way your pulse quickens. You're very good at hiding your fear. Though you must be terrified. Years in your line of work has hardened you, and left you calm and collected under pressure.

He hates seeing you in distress. But there's a sweet, intoxicating feeling that accompanies it. He wonders how sweet your blood has gotten, mixed with adrenaline. Fear makes it taste better. He hopes you know that. But yours never needed fear to make it the best he’s ever had. You couldn't imagine how many nights he spent debating whether or not to drain you dry.

To kill you would be a waste. You are truly something special.

In his defense, he never took enough to kill you. Really, he didn't need to drain all those women. He doesn't need to feed that much to survive. It was only a plus that you curled up to him each night, seeking his presence. Oh how he’d kill a hundred men just to suckle at your neck while deep in your cunt.

It'll be even better now that you’re awake.

“Get in the water with me,” he says.

“Once I get all this blood off,” you say, holding his hand up to inspect it, “then I’ll refill the tub and get in. I don't want to get sick.”

But he wants you in now.

You stay true to your word. Once you get the majority of the blood off, you drain the water, and start refilling the tubm watching the last of the pink water swirling down the drain. In the meantime, you get undressed, and settle into the shallow, slowly rising water. You add in some soaps, and bath salts you’ve been saving for a special occasion. Supposedly they help with stress, but you’re more anxious than you’ve ever been.

In his arms you used to find comfort. Now they're little more than something to keep track of in case you have to run.

His grip around your waist tightens, pulling you to sit in his lap. His lips find your neck, littering it with kisses, and softly sucking at the sensitive skin. Your neck smells so nice. He finds a washcloth, and some soap, dragging the rough fabric across your skin, admiring the softness of it. If the context were any different, such an action would be completely innocent.

"Choso?" You can hardly choke out his name. "Did you kill all those people?!"

"Not all of them," he says, "some were accidents. But they were done by my kind, if that's what you’re asking.”

Does Yuji know about this? You doubt it. You’d be hard pressed to find something Yuji does know about. You're mentally steeling yourself, eyes frantically scanning the room for a way out. There's nothing nearby you can use as a weapon, save for a ceramic pot, still holding a houseplant. Maybe a good whack over the head will deter him. But knowing Choso…

“I can get to the door before you.” You say.

“Can you?” He asks. “I think I’m faster.”

There's a sharp, stinging pain and his teeth dig into your neck. Though you’re mostly silent, caught by surprise, a small squeak escapes you. It only hurts for a moment. His grip around your waist tightens. And he's saying something- but your head is too foggy to make out any words.

What the hell was that? Did he just draw blood?

The warm feeling of his tongue against your neck is enough to make you shudder. A shock of pleasure is sent up your spine, one which should most surely be pain. Your body is a little too receptive to this. Maybe it's the warm water, but you could almost swear your body is heating up.

Danger and arousal practically overlap in the human mind. Those neurons are very close, practically crossing over in some cases.

While part of you is frozen in fear, part of you finds this extremely hot.

"Sorry, love. I hope it doesn't hurt too bad," he says, "I can't help myself. Yours is the sweetest."

Nobody else compares to you.

He does let you break free. Though you’re soaking wet, you make it out of the bathroom, and down the hall before he catches you. This time you scream, only for one of his large hands to cover your mouth.

“Don't run,” he says, and before you can protest, he’s swooping you up into his arms bridal style, “I’ll always catch you.”

Your elbow swings out, slamming into his sternum hard. He lets out a soft grunt of surprise, though it hurts you more than it hurts him. He's a lot stronger than you. A shock of pain is sent up your arm. It's like hitting a brick wall. By reflex, he drops you, giving you an opening to dash for the door.

But that's where he’s expecting you to go.

You make a sudden left for his bedroom, where there's a sliding glass door that leads out to the porch. From there, you suppose you’ll yell for help. Maybe one of your neighbors will take pity on you, a poor, naked girl running from her insane lover.

In your moment of hesitation, he’s caught up to you, grabbing you by the shoulder and yanking you back. Your terrified gasp much resembles a moan in nature, as heat pools not only in your face, but between your legs.

You’re enjoying this little game of cat and mouse…

In Choso’s mind it only solidifies his view of you as his own. A pretty little thing to preen, and feed off of. His partner. His mate. Oh how pretty your sleeping form looked, oblivious to the way he fed from you.

You pray for Yuji to come home early. For him to not go out partying for once. But your prayers are ignored.

“Don't get my intentions misconstrued,” Choso says, “I have no plans to kill you.”

You're far more valuable to him alive.

You swallow hard. The heat between your legs only builds in intensity. Your teeth find your bottom lip, digging into it hard. Soon the metallic taste of blood fills your mouth.

The sight of him standing before you, naked, with water still dripping off of him is enough to pool the fire that burns in your belly. His hair is loose around his shoulders, his long, dark locks falling into his face. Albeit terrifying, he is handsome.

The worst part is his eyes.

They aren't the eyes of a monster. Nor do they hold any sort of malice, or anger. He looks at you with such adoration that you want to sob. He looks at you like you’re the sun, the moon, and all the stars. Like you’re the world to him.

In his defense, he does love you. Just in the twisted way that his undead heart will allow. You loved him too. At one point.

“There was only so much I could take without harming you.” He says. “Only feeding from you proved to have detrimental consequences to your health. If I didn't feed from others, you likely would have died.”

Is that why he’s been so nice? Why he’s been cooking for you, and insisting you take your vitamins?

Your head spins. Maybe it's from the hot water. Maybe this is a nightmare, and in a few minutes you’ll wake up.

Your hand falls to your neck, where warm blood trickles down onto your heaving chest. You don't expect it to come away wet with blood. The red sight makes you nauseous.

“Your neck,” he coos, “why don't you let me help with the bleeding.”

“Like hell I will!”

You back up, the back of your knees hitting the edge of the bed. With a gasp, you fall, hitting the mattress. The bed that was once so inviting is now cold, and unforgiving.

You hardly notice as he crawls in beside you, pulling you to rest against his chest. His lips attack your neck, sukling the small wound. The pleased grunts and groans he makes are enough to fuel the fire burning in your stomach. Every cell in your being is crying out for him to touch you, though the rational part of your brain wants you to fight.

His hand trails lower, eventually finding the slick that pools around your entrance, humming in amusement.

“My good girl,” he coos, “so wet for me.”

His words are enough to send a shock of pleasure up your spine. The months you two have spent together have given him enough time to figure out just what makes you tick. His fingers find your clit, working circles around the bundle of nerves, eliciting a small moan from you. You're so soft, so warm and reactive to his touch. When around you, Choso feels truly alive.

His thumb works circles around your clit while he pumps his fingers. His touch leaves your body feeling warm. And though most of your being wants you to run, you can't help but relax into his touch. He’s your Choso, after all. The same man that let you curl up next to him after a nightmare, and would bring you tea and soup when you were sick.

How could someone so doting be such a monster?

It doesn't take him long to settle into a pattern that makes your toes curl, drawing soft moans from you. Tension builds in your stomach like a rubber band being stretched tight. He's making a mess out of you both. And he’d make a mess out of you every day for the rest of your lives if you’d let him.

This is so wrong. Not that you're complaining.

He's a murderer! But complying might be your best chance at getting out of this.

The heat in your stomach is practically unbearable. Your face buries in his covers, unintentionally inhaling his scent. He just smells so nice. More than anything, you want him to fuck you.

Slowly, gently, he guides you to lay on your back, caging your body under his. You clench around the sudden emptiness, wishing for nothing more than his hand to return. His eyes meet yours for only a moment. Though yours are full of fright, his are filled with affection.

He really does love you. Just in his own way. One that humans don't understand. One that borders on the line of obsession.

Choso leaves a path of wet kisses down your stomach, his lips stained red with blood. The wound on your neck has mostly stopped bleeding. The pain has reduced to a dull ache that throbs with each beat of your heart. The small ways your body reacts, your back arching up towards him, your pulse quickening, only solidifies the thought in his mind that you’re his.

His head comes to rest on your stomach. His hair tickles the sensitive skin of your lower belly, and thighs. You nod, giving him silent permission to continue.

You gasp at the feeling of his cool tongue against your clit, lavishing it with affections. Your cunt is almost as sweet as your blood. And he makes sure you know that, moaning nearly as loud as you at the taste. His arms hook around your legs, pulling you closer to him. Choso is a lot stronger than he looks. You get the impression that—if he so pleased—could keep you there forever.

And he just might, working you closer to orgasm, letting you creep up on that edge but never falling down the other side. Not until you’re crying out his name, and begging to cum. He's making such a mess. Out of you, and himself, and the sheets. If Choso could purr, he would be.

“Please, Cho,” you whine, “I wanna cum!”

This only draws a dark laugh from him. He pulls away, his chin covered in saliva, and your own slick.

“Not yet, love.” He says. “It’ll feel so much better when you finally cum on my cock.”

He wastes no time in lining himself up, giving his already hardened cock a few pumps before pressing into you. There's no stinging as he pushes in. There hardly ever is. Choso isn't a selfish lover in the slightest. He knows his size is intimidating. He always makes sure you’re prepped enough to take him.

Choso doesn't bother using a condom. There's no need, now that you’re his. Oh how he’s been waiting for the day to see your fucked-out form leaking his cum. You truly are his now.

It's oddly intimate, the way he litters your neck with kisses as he ruts into you. His lips leave your skin feeling warm. He tries to pace himself, really, but the warm, velvety feeling of your cunt is too much. You feel too good, he can't hold himself back. Though he hasn't felt human in a long time, you truly make him feel like one.

His hands plant on the back of your knees, shoving them up towards your chest. There's a pleasant stretch in your hips as he guides you into a mating press. The sound of skin slapping on skin fills the room. Your moans are hardly drowned out by his words of praise, calling you a good girl, telling you how well you take him, how much he loves you.

And you really are starting to believe it.

“Cho- I'm gonna-”

“Do it then,” he says, “cum for me.”

When you finally cum, you cum hard. Your orgasm rolls over you like a wave, pulling you under, and spitting you back out wrong. Your body twitches, overcome with pleasure, riding out your orgasm on his cock. Exhaustion slowly sets in, leaving your limbs heavy, and your eyes struggling to stay open.

He’s not far behind, his thrusts growing unsteadier. His words of praise turn into babble, incoherent sentence fragments, mostly which consist of “I love you”s. He gives no warning when he’s about to cum, instead, making sure that you take every last drop of it. The cold feeling of his cum makes you shudder. It's not outright unpleasant, though it feels strange. He doesn't bother pulling out, only settling down beside you on the bed, softening cock still inside you. His arms wrap around you, pulling you flush to his chest.

Just what kind of mess have you gotten yourself into?

Part of you wishes for your roommate to stumble through the front door. Part of you is content in your lover's arms. Has anything really changed about your Choso? Would Yuji even help? He’s his brother after all.

Your limbs feel heavy, though your head feels light. Weightless. It's not a normal feeling. It's like you're drunk, but you haven't touched a drop of alcohol. His lips find your neck, lapping at the steady stream of blood from the reopened wound.

You’re completely helpless as you fall into the cold grasp of sleep.

I changed my L&DS VA language to Korean bcs i was curious and Caleb’s voice sounds so familiar. He sounds like MM’s 707 and when I googled for his Korean VA, apparently the guy who voiced 707 voiced Caleb too 😳

Also, I love how MC calls Zayne “oppa” in Korean. It’s cute 🥺 And he calls Caleb “oppa” too!

Zayne’s load size tier list

I wasn’t expecting my next tier list to be this but I couldn’t stop thinking about Foreseer so here we are

Contains: This is a tier list about cum. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Actually, everyone just look away tbh no one needs to read this ahdkshskdg

S Tier

Foreseer. He’s been frozen on his throne for most of his life, waiting to impart his prophecies to those who come to him once every hundred years. Even when he’s awake for these moments, the thought of sex never crosses his mind. So when MC comes to the tower and makes him feel all these new feelings he’s never felt before, all that cum in his balls waiting millennia to burst out finally has a chance to make an appearance

And my boy’s packing a LOADED WEAPON

Foreseer is a fucking fountain of cum. Powerful streams of yearning, aching, finally bursting free

This man isn’t just S Tier. He’s an S+++ Tier cum machine

A Tier

Dawnbreaker. He’s always thinking about his dream girl, whether he’s awake or asleep. He’s seen the way the doctor’s hands caress her skin, heard the way her breath hitches, seen the way her mouth hangs open when she’s taking his cock so desperately. Those dreams give him all the motivation he needs to milk his own cock night after night. He doesn’t need anything extra. Just the thought of her is enough to make him cum over and over again

The tank is never empty when he’s yearning so desperately for someone that it feels like his heart has a gaping hole in it and he’s bleeding out

It makes him feel connected to her, to have the warm feeling of dopamine and oxytocin flood his brain and make him feel like a part of her is with him. He’s desperate to feel her, to get close to her, to express his love to her… but he’ll have to settle for being alone with just his memories of her

B Tier

I’d consider this a normal level, one where they’re more… emotionally stable lol

Doctor Zayne. He’s definitely kept busy by MC’s needs. They may have busy schedules, but they plan their dates and end up having sex in regular intervals, meaning he’d be able to release regularly. His body would produce a fair bit, enough to satisfy MC when she gets frisky. And girl knows she wants what she wants. Overall, Zayne would have a healthy sex life with a healthy amount of cum

Master of Fate. He’s had wild nights with some priestesses in the past and that would’ve put him into A Tier, but by the time he meets MC, he’s calmed down and matured. He doesn’t want women as offerings to him anymore. He wants a true lover

And he loves MC in a similar way as the doctor does. His love is sensual, appreciative, generous. He makes sure his lover is well-sated before he focuses on his own desire. He isn’t in a rush to reach his climax. He’s had centuries of countless climaxes already. His main focus is to make MC feel good

Imagine you and Mark broke up because he still had lingering feelings for Eve. So now you're sitting in your dorm room late at night when...

"(Y/N)?" A familiar voice calls from the other side of the door. You put your phone down and move from your bed. You hesitate to open the door. Not because you don't want to see the person on the other side, but because it's really late and usually Mark taps on your window or texts you first.

"(Y/N), are you in there?" Mark asks. "Please, I...I need to see you. I need to know you're okay." Your heart shatters at the desperation in his voice. You reach for the doorknob and open your door.

"Mark?" The lightning in the hallway is dim, but you can tell that your ex-boyfriend is wearing his hero suit. You quickly pull him into your room and lock the door.

"What is wrong with you?" You ask. "What if someone saw you?" He doesn't answer. Instead he pulls you into a tight hug.

"Oh god, you're okay," He says. His voice was barely above a whisper. "You're safe." You reluctantly wrap your arms around him. You've seen Mark cry before, but never like this.

"Yes, I'm safe," You tell him. "But what are you doing here?" Before he can answer, your window shatters. Your pushed to the ground and your ex-boyfriend is pinned against the wall.

"Mark!" You exclaim. You rub your head, and your eyes try to adjust to the dark scene. Mark was being pinned to the wall by...Mark? You rush to the light switch and flip it on. Held against the wall was Mark in a black and blue suit, but his whole face his covered. And holding him against the wall, was another Mark, in his new blue and black suit, but you were able to see his face.

"Don't fucking touch her," Your Mark growls. His hands tightened around the imposter's neck.

"Get off of me!" The imposter's says in between coughs. His head is bleeding, and the blood starts to roll down his face. The imposter turns to you.

"(Y/N)," The imposter says. "You're not gonna let him kill me, are you?" You stutter out a sentence, your mind moving faster than you can process words. You look between the two, unsure what to do.

"Don't listen to him," Your Mark yells. "He came with other variants of me. They're evil. They only live to kill." You want to believe him, you really do. But the Mark against the wall is in so much pain. And if he wanted to kill you...why didn't he? Without thinking, you begin to move to the two Marks.

"Let him go, Mark," You say. Your Mark glares at you.

"Seriously? Did you not hear what I said?" His words are harsh, but his voice sounds hurt. "He'll kill you! What? Just because we're broken up, you'll be with another version of me! I'm trying to save you!"

"I know what you said!" Your anger scares both Marks. Neither of them have ever known you to raise your voice before. "Let him go, please." You say quieter. Your Mark curses under his breath before letting the imposter go. The Other Mark sinks to the floor, gasping for breath and holding his neck. He looks up to you. He crawls on the ground and hugs your legs.

"I'm sorry," He cries. "Please! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to! Please forgive me!" You look back at Your Mark who's standing behind you with his arms crossed. He scoffs and turns away from you. You look back down to the Mark on the floor.

"It's...it's okay," You reassure him. "I'm safe, remember. I'm not hurt." The Other Mark nods his head.

"Yes, you're safe," He repeats. "I'll make sure you'll always be safe." A rush of wind hurls past you. Before you can even blink, the Other Mark is standing on the other side of the room with his hand balled in a fist. Your Mark holds his chest. Blood gushes from his mouth, and he falls to the ground.

Your eyes widen in shock. You're sure you screamed, but you can't hear anything. You rush to your ex-boyfriend's side, kneeling beside him. Blood quickly pools around him.

"Mark? Mark!" You scream. The Other Mark lifts you from the ground.

"Don't do that," He says, his voice strangely calm. "You could get an infection. What if you got sick? Do you want me to be alone again?" You struggle to get out of his grasp, but he won't budge. He floats above the ground and flies the both of you out of your window. You beat against his body in protest as you scream for Your Mark.

"It's okay, (Y/N)," The Other Mark says. "You're safe with me now."