Call me Truly, she/they, 23, a multi-fandom account
| Ao3 | Side-Blog |
𝙸 𝚠𝚛𝚒𝚝𝚎 𝚏𝚘𝚛 Daredevil, Jujutsu Kaisen, and Jojo's Bizarre Adventure.
MDNI! This blog is 18+ due to the content I post as well as reblog. I'm not going to hound you about it, but I will block you if you do not have your age visible on your blog.
Fandom Masterlists
Jujutsu Kaisen Masterlist
Daredevil Masterlist
Jojo's Bizarre Adventure Masterlist
Writing Challenges
Tuna-Tober 2024 (completed)
Tuna-Tober 2025
*Posts are inconsistent! I try my best to update my fics regularly, but my mental health has been in the gutter and I've been struggling to have the motivation to write.*
Want to join one of my tag lists? Simply send an ask or reply to the series you want to be tagged in!
The use of my writing to "train" AI to generate text is expressly prohibited. Do not copy or plagiarize my work and post it to other platforms.
I am so tired of short-attention-span, trim-the-fat culture.
All writing advice these days is for how to write like Chuck Palahniuk. "Cut 'think', cut 'feel', cut 'wonder' - only action, only pushing forward, show and move and move and move." What if I could emulate this style, and still don't want to? What if I want to write like Henry James, with three paragraphs of introspective musings between each dialogue line?
The music advice is, "make it shortform, make it Tik-Tok compatible, make it punchy, hit the refrain as soon as possible." What if I want that 10-minute prog rock piece? What if I want that symphony? What if I want it slow and luxurious and lazy?
Movies. Series. Poetry. Bodies. Everything is "trimmed trimmed trimmed trimmed, stripped bare, you have three seconds to win me over, make it airport chic." I don't want to win you over, then, I guess.
I want the fat left it.
I want the pleasure and the indolence and the indulgence.
Fuck this art-advice that's always "your art needs Ozempic."
Not all of the people reading your x reader fics have white skin
Just a gentle reminder before you write characteristics that assume whiteness and exclude your black/indigenous/poc supporters-specifically in 'x reader' works.
I love and appreciate writers, but this is a recurring avoidable issue (going on for decades now).
"your dusky pink nipples" "your face turned just as red as his" "he could see the blush on your face" “your cheeks furiously blushed” “your ears burn bright red” “The look in your reddened face” “your knuckles white with effort” “bruised purple against your light skin”
Describing the physical feeling instead of the visual change helps include your readers while also elevating your writing IMO.
Anyone can say "Your cheeks turned red with embarrassment" or "Your face flushed" but wouldn't you rather say "A burning heat rushed across your face, from your neck to the tip of your nose, prickling right underneath the surface. You look anywhere but him, hoping your newfound interest in the buildings ceiling tiles will ease the fire tightening beneath your skin" And instead of the other character pointing out that the readers face is red, they can point out the obvious flustered facial expression/body language.
If you want your reader insert to have white/fairskin, then just label them white!reader or put the mention in the warnings/summary.
↪I have reached out to writers I favored/supported before and sometimes I have been met with severe hostility and defensiveness. I often wonder if people are doing this purposefully or for some reason think only white people read their fanfics (?)-if that's the case then be upfront and label your reader inserts as white!reader or something PLEASE. It’s gotten to the point where I feel like black women and other POC aren’t wanted or considered in these fandoms because it comes off like that in your writing. If you need a different motivation, just know you're missing out on more interactions, reblogs, and a bigger reader base. I don’t know why white is the default for so many writers in unspecified x reader/reader insert fics-the people on your blog following, reading, and supporting you aren’t all white and fair-skinned.
I am not talking about OC fics or fics where race/skintone is x specified in summary or warnings. This is specifically about unspecified "x reader" where whiteness is assumed as the default
Put in the comments good replacements for writers to use!
this is SO important!!!! I’m so tired of having y/n be white. Like, it’s impossible to have an Asian reader and I feel so ignored with the lack of diversity in x reader fanfiction.
As a long time writer of x Reader, this is so important! It's ok to slip, but when you do, you can change it up and learn a new way for the future. Some common replacements:
Instead of a flush/blush, consider: the sensation of skin feeling hot or burning, their pulse picking up, lack of eye contact.
Instead of 'scrubbing yourself pink', consider: scrubbing yourself raw.
Instead of bright purple bruising, consider: a dull or sharp ache, pain when touched
Instead of the light 'turning your skin gold', consider: the sensation of the sun warming it
Instead of 'your face going pale', consider: the blood draining from your face, a cold chill, or the sensation of the bottom dropping out from beneath you
Basically, when you have a visual that won't work, look for a sensation, something visceral. Not only are sensations something we all share, but they can also increase immersion where a visual would fail.
I will always rec the Emotions Thesaurus for this. It contains a large variety of emotions, each with a list of physical, emotional, and sensory sensations that tend to accompany the emotion. Use those descriptions!
Doing this is one of the unique challenges of x Reader fic, but a lot of what you learn from it will help improve your writing elsewhere, I promise. You'll learn to include more than just visuals - you'll begin to bring in scents, beautiful emotion, visceral sensations that help flesh out your writing overall. Everyone will be happier for the inclusion: your readers and you!
hii angel plz feed us w some alucard smut :( the drought has hit and it has hit hard (only if u want to tho x)
𝐻𝐴𝒱𝐸𝒩! ❤︎ ft. adrian ‘alucard’ țepeș!
𝒮𝒴𝒩𝒪𝒫𝒮𝐼𝒮! ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ the most enigmatic man in all of wallachia has been ever so kind as to open his home unto you. it had originally been a simple act of good faith, but tensions only rise the longer you remain under his castle’s roof. a quiet, heated night is all it takes for everything to spill over.
𝜗𝜚 ⋆ ࣪ ˖ 𝒞𝒪𝒩𝒯𝒜𝐼𝒩𝒮 ⨾ ( 8k+ ) words of ⨾ nsfw content, alucard x fem!reader ( black coded ), canon-divergent, set in 15th century ( late 1400s ), mutual pining, mutual masturbation, size kink, fingering, cunnilingus, wall / window sex, unprotected sex, mating press, creampie, cockwarming, lowercase intended, explicit language, minors shoo!
𝑚𝑦 𝑙𝑜𝑣𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑒𝑟! ౨ৎ ₊ ⊹ me too nonnie, me too! i’ve been missing my angel of a husband for so longgg, it only felt right to whip something up for my favorite man! i went a little overboard on the smut, i hope thats okay lol! this is truly just a smidget of plot and the rest is y'all getting so nastieee >.< i also headcanon adrian being heavily fluent in romanian, so i implemented just a bit of that in this too! thank you so much for dropping by dear, and please enjoy! ❤︎
the air is cool in alucard’s chamber, touched with the faintest breath of fresh rainfall and smooth tempered steel. you find him resting languidly against the carved oak windowsill, half-dressed with moonlight spilling over his bare chest.
the silvered light plays through his hair, casting him in quiet stillness, like a figure sculpted centuries ago. you hover at the threshold, brushing nervous fingertips along the seams of your ivory nightgown.
you shouldn’t linger— not this late, not this close. but alucard senses you before your instincts can intervene. he doesn’t stir or shift. just remains perfectly still, eyes fixed on the glass panes as the moon washes all of wallachia in its soft, pale glow, his voice a low murmur.
“you should knock before entering a vampire’s room.”
his low voice, teasing and unhurried, completely hooks into you. he sounds like the sweetest spilled wine. there’s a beat of amusement beneath his silken tone, yet something darker that pulls you in.
you’d almost laugh if the room didn’t feel so impossibly charged, heavy like a boundary waiting to snap. you’re far past the point of fearing he might feast on you. in that way, at least.
something in the way he holds his silence beckons you forward, like he’s already invited you without a word. you step closer. the floor creaks. at last, he glances up, eyes flashing gold as they find you over his shoulder; slow, deliberate, enough to steal the very air from your lungs.
“forgive me, i . . .” you linger on his flawless side profile, the graceful slope of his nose, the lined shape of his lips, the sharp cut of his alabaster jaw, the faint tension in his brow that makes him more striking. you swallow and steady your voice, regaining composure. “couldn't sleep.”
alucard arises with quiet grace, like his every other measured movement. he tugs off his gloves with the edge of his teeth, fangs grazing the leather as he peels it away. he slides his hand around your wrist, thumb brushing your racing pulse, beating wildly beneath the press of his lithe fingers.
he stands tall before you, over six feet of refined, nimble strength. alucard leans in dangerously close, gaze drifting downward to you from his towering height. his hold is gentle, but the power behind it hums. you feel the strength he’s holding back, all quiet and controlled that he hasn’t even begun to use on you, and the awareness of it sends a heated thrill curling low in your stomach.
“but since you’re here . . .” the solid heat of his chest presses firmly against your softer one, your breasts barely concealed by the thin white cotton of your nightgown. the friction tears a helpless little whine from your throat. his voice dips lower. “let me see just how brave you really are.”
that has to be an invitation. his words, his eyes, all of it— there’s no mistaking it. so you take it.
you lean forward with intention, eyes fluttering shut as you press your mouth to his. your fingers drift over his broad shoulders, trembling as they brush against his chest, hungry and uncertain but unable to stop. it feels righter than anything you’ve ever done. his pale pink lips are cool but soft, and he parts them immediately, letting them slide and fit with your own. he lets a deep, rumbling groan escape him, spilling into your mouth and sending a shiver straight through you.
“oh, god,” he breathes, lips hot on yours as he drives you back until your spine meets the chill of stone, cold enough to make you gasp. one hand pins yours to the wall, the other roaming your body with willful hunger.
“you’ve no idea what you awaken in me, do you?” he rasps, completely undone by the taste of your lips. alucard carefully glides his tongue onto yours; suckling, tasting, biting. his fingers clamp tighter around your wrist, and the restraint sends heat straight through your veins. you should’ve known he’d be this . . . utterly consuming.
“mmph, a—alucard,” you whine against him with a breath of frailty. you’re not sure how much you can take, yet it’s only begun; hell, it’s your own doing. but the way he kisses you . . . it renders you helpless. every touch is a pull, and you know you’re bound to melt under him.
he dips his head to nip at the warm flesh of your neck, lips trailing heat down your skin. the edge of his fangs graze your throat, teeth barely scraping as he murmurs, “we’re well past formalities now, aren’t we? call me adrian.”
the intimacy of it all, his mouth on your throat, hearing him offer his given name like a secret, has you rubbing your thighs together feebly, craving the friction he’s not giving you yet.
“ah, adrian . . .” you breathe for him, and the way his grip tightens tells you exactly what it does to him.
“mm, good.” he murmurs, lips brushing that fragile point beneath your jaw. “say that more often.”
your fingers weave into the silk of his cascading hair as he draws in, his cool temperature against your lust-fevered skin turning you inside out. you finally understand he carries the name fahrenheit. his knee slides up your leg, and your hips grind down in helpless instinct.
before long, his thigh eases its way between yours, parting them without needing to ask. the hard line of his cock skims over your pelvis from beneath fitted black leather, sending a hot tremor through you.
“you yield so easily for me . . . i wonder how far i can push you tonight.”
whether he’s teasing or worshipping you, you’re unsure. but the faint sweep of his fangs along your throat steals the strength from your knees, like you’re made to give in to him.
“i’d go as far as you want,” you stare up at him, eyes soft with devotion. he swiftly catches your chin, tilting your face up to meet his eyes; golden, molten, darkened with the very thing he’s been trying not to show you since the night you arrived upon his doorstep.
he allows for the tug of a small smile, soft lips tilting upwards. “brave little thing,” he coos, as though he’s been waiting for the moment of your surrender. days of unspoken tension simmer in his tone. “let me take you there. just hold onto me.”
what started as a simple kindness, him offering his home when you had nowhere else to turn, has become something far more consuming. you never imagined it would lead to this— his lips on your throat, your back bowed against the cold stone of his mercy. now that you’re under his roof, under him, nothing stays innocent for long. one touch, one glance from alucard makes it clear; staying here comes with a price you’re far too willing to pay.
before long, he’s tugged free of his coat by its flared collar, discarded without care. then he’s dipping low, wavy hair brushing your chest, as his mouth grazes your jaw, your throat, the slope of your collarbone. he suckles lazily, almost testing how deep your breath can hitch, his tongue flicking over the warm, velvety brown of your skin.
your spine lifts off the cool stone when his hand begins its descent.
at first it’s just the ghost of his fingertips at your ribs; light enough to make you flinch, a tiny startled quiver he feels and smiles against your neck. then he trails lower, slower, smoothing over the plane of your stomach as if acquainting himself with every dip and rise. the tension in you melts under the deliberate pace of his touch, until he dips beneath the sheer nightgown, easing past your plain cotton panties, and finally reaches the heat between your thighs.
his fingers pause there, right at your entrance— hovering, feeling, savoring the way you’re already aching for him before he even parts you.
you aren't ready for when he sinks them in.
you know he’d been searching for your pulsing center, but the cool slide of his lithe fingers pressing past your tight, molten-hot flesh makes you drip. your reflexive clench earns a low, hungry groan from him.
“oh, fuck . . is this how you truly feel for me?” he rasps out. alucard’s restraint is wearing thin. the feel of you undoes it entirely; what follows is your body tightening around him, clenching hard as his fingers push steadily. your hands grip the broad expanse of his shoulders frantically, nails grazing his porcelain skin as a silent, trembling scream rises from your chest. the sound of your name unravels in his mouth like a spell.
“mm, y-yes . . !” you curb a moan behind pressed lips, and his thin blonde brows knit tight. he plunges in even deeper, as if to test just how far you’ll let him go.
“your sounds . . . don’t bite them back. not from me.”
he gradually quickens, fingers flexing with each deliberate motion, veins standing out beneath his pale, milky skin. you’ve never been touched like this before, never made to feel so undone and so alive. your wetness gathers, slick and insistent, coating his digits as he sinks them deeper, fingerfucking you with slow, deliberate pumps while you shake against him. your legs quiver as he keeps you upright with one leg hooked over his forearm, and the delicious swipe of his fingers sends jolts through your body. you tremble, moaning softly into his neck.
“oh, you feel perfect,” he whispers, lips brushing your jaw, voice low and ragged. “so wet, all for me.”
his soft, sweet praise ignites something within— you want to return every ounce of the pleasure he gives you. so with a flush of courage, you let your hand shakily drift, tracing down the hard line of his forearm, lingering at the sword holsters banded around the curve of his hip. your fingers inch lower, teasing along the waistband of his trim leather pants, slow and deliberate, until finally, compelled by both need and curiosity, you slip your hand past the leather and wrap around the heavy firmness confined beneath. pleasant to know that he goes commando.
“what are you— oh,” you grind down on his sizeable hand while you curl around his hard aching length, rubbing him out. “i . . wanted you to feel good too, adrian.” you begin to stroke him tentatively slow, exploring the length of him. he’s longer than he is thick, and you can feel every ridge, every curve, every thick vein. the hot underside pulses against your soft palm. he hisses so dangerously low it makes your pussy clench.
“god— i need you . . faster, adrian,” you whine when his fingers curl inside you with added pace, hitting that pudgy inner spot that makes your back arch. “you . . . you like that, don’t you?” he murmurs against your ear, voice ragged with want. “y-yes, so much,” you gasp, your lips and teeth grazing the hollow of his neck.
you’re gripping him hard, pumping his straining length with a trembly hand. his breath breaks in a low, punished hiss, dragging a precise thumb across your budding clit in slow, maddening circles, and you shiver violently, hips jerking. “you’re driving me fucking insane . . mm, just like this . . .” his whispers cut through you, and you can’t help but cry out the more he pushes you to the edge.
your hand moves over him while he flicks and toys with your clit, the two of you working each other in a frantic rhythm against the wall. alucard’s fingers tease and press, and your hand tightens around his length, matching every pulse, every desperate stroke.
his chest heaves fast, mouth dropped open, but his golden eyes are eerily still, never leaving yours. the contact is steady and consuming, him taking in every shiver, every twitch, and that glassy needy gaze of yours. he drinks you in like he can taste your surrender, and the sound of you crying out only urges him to push harder, faster, as if your pleasure feeds the fire in him.
“you like this, hm? us pleasuring each other?” he rasps, leaning close to nibble your sensitive earlobe. you whine, faltering your pace around his cock. he fingers plunge especially deep and you cry out, hand stuttering as you clutch the base of him. your breathing picks up. he darkly smile to himself, absorbing your reaction.
“have you dreamt of this, dragă?” dear, he calls you, like a caress in his native tongue. it sounds foreign yet intimate. the name melts you completely on his slender fingers. he amplifies his pace, and your still hand goes back to matching him with similar strokes.
he grunts and finds purchase of your waist, gripping so tight that warm flesh pudges out between his fingers as he frees out, “envisioned this very moment when alone at night? wishing i would come to touch you from the corridors down?” you moan out, stunned. how could he know? alucard presses a soft kiss to your temple, voice shaking with need, “because i’ve imagined it too.”
your bodies tilt into one another and you both sway together, teetering between desire and the pure need for release. something within you is bound to snap. it doesn't take much for him to undo you between the surface of the wall, his honey-coated words and the hard plane of his chest. you shudder and heave into his collarbone as the climax washes through you.
your juices trickle down, streaking his wrist. your loosening fingers go slack on him, firm and velvety in your hand. alucard doesn't cum just yet. he’s a vampire after all; you assume the height of his orgasmic peak and stamina are hard things to reach. his light-yellow eyes lock with yours, glassy and wide, and the mischievous glint of playfulness he carries makes your pulse stutter.
alucard smiles your way seductively, looking rather amused with how nicely you came undone beneath him. pride tugs at the corners of his lips as he admires your wracked state through the wispy curtain of his blonde lashes. he brings his soaked hand up to the rising tilt of his pale-pink lips. with no hint of shame, he licks a long stripe up the side of his damp wrist, drinking in the remnants of you with a low hum.
“mmm,” he rumbles out, “you taste very good.”
“aluc— i mean, adrian, you’re being . . indecent.”
“hm, i believe you like it.” he slides his middle and ring fingers into his mouth and they disappear between his lips. adrian licks off the slick off with slow, deliberate swirls of his tongue. you gulp down hard. “can i not taste of you?”
he surely can. whatever permission he could ever ask for, you've already given it all. still, seeing him so enamored by you, how much he’s been craving, admiring, longing for this . . . his hunger makes your cheeks burn as you watch him with helpless fascination, caught between thrill and embarrassment.
from the moment he led you into his home with a gentle hand on your shoulder, to your first shared dinners, the nights you soothed him from nightmares, and the day you played hide-and-seek in the forest, his golden laugh echoing as he caught you; had he always imagined this? holding you like this, taking you in this way? the very thought makes your pulse hammer, your chest ache, your desire for him flare hotter than ever.
the thought of all those moments, soft, golden, intimate, wraps around you like a warmth you can’t escape. alucard breaks you free of your thoughts when he dips his head, lips ghosting along your jaw, and you shiver as his tongue traces the curve of your neck. his large hand slides lower, pressing against your hip as he leans in, lips shiny with your slick, and murmurs, “i want to absolutely devour you, dragă.” his heavy cock bobs against your thigh, and you gulp at the implication.
he hooks his wide palms underneath your thighs, lifting you effortlessly. in an instant, you're off the ground. you scramble to find purchase of his broad shoulders, stammering out, “a-adrian! whatever are you—”
“just making certain you're comfortable first,” you know what he means; what you're about to do. the very thought makes you buzz. he carries you with a forearm bracing your underside and his palm kneading your buttocks. you whine at him, nuzzling your nose into the crook of his neck. “unless you’d like for me to take you on the windowsill?” his elusive smirk deepens, and your face burns hotly.
“i actually like it here,” you manage out softly. you’re rarely ever this meek with him, especially after countless months of living under his roof. it’s just strange, being this needy and exposed to him. but tonight’s circumstances are different; you’re pressed against alucard, your panty-soaked heat ghosting his bare length, halfway naked in the strong arms of the most beautiful man you’ve ever known.
“do you, now?” he frees a low, amused laugh and complies, placing you down gently on the wooden platform. he thinks he quite likes this;
you splayed out with your rumpled nightgown having succumbed to all his touching, the softly flared sleeves falling down your slender arms to reveal the swell of your round, supple breasts. you sit there bathed in soft moonlight, braced on your palms, legs subtly easing wider as you stare up at him expectantly. ringlets of hair cutely mussed, plush lips bitten by him, eyes blown out with a heavy, traceable want for him. he bites down a groan and traps it in the hollow of his chest.
“. . . actually, yes. so do i.” his breath grazes your temple, words barely above a whisper. only tonight do you realize your effect on the man. you had thought you'd been the only one so enraptured. turns out, he’d also been yearning for you desperately; possibly all the more.
he begins to slip out of his black leather pants, delighted in how intently you watch him. you unknowingly fan his desire, with how you bite down on your lip and chew. it makes his cock twitch. would it be too much for him to ask you to play with yourself while looking so enchanting? he’s sure you would utterly melt away at such a request . . so he decides to do it himself.
before long, adrian’s pulled free of any refines and is completely bare before you. every muscle and mark alike is on display. strong corded thighs, firm biceps, rippled scarred chest, sculpted torso and a slim waist. you know what awaits you beneath it all; the hard length you ache to feel.
but adrian doesn’t give it just yet.
instead, he drops to his knees and eases himself between your own. his cock bobs as he shuffles closer, big cold hands smoothing up your legs with his cheek resting against one thigh. he looks absolutely precious there, though what he’s soon to do is far from innocent.
alucard gives you one slow, lingering glance before disappearing beneath your nightgown. you can't see much, just the teasing rise and fall of his head moving. but god, do you feel everything. his tongue slides over your lips, parting the folds with deliberate care. a low sound vibrates against you once he laps at your clit, sighing into the sensitive bundle before swallowing it whole with wet licks and suckles. his hands anchor at your hips, steadying you as your body writhes, helpless under the rhythm of his ministrations.
“fuck— ohhhh fuck, adrian!” your voice cracks as heat floods through you, losing yourself while he’s to blame. you never imagined him to be so insatiable, so untamed, with all the licking, the nibbling, and— oh god, the sucking. you wriggle and squeal, one hand planted against the cool glass window.
“r-riiight there, yes, don't s-stop,” your other hand goes to tug the nightgown free from his head. your fingers then curl into his hair, brushing his scalp and tugging just enough for a sharp, hungry sound to escape him. you’re desperate to see what he's doing to you, how he's capable of such things. once it's pulled away, he's already looking up at you, your wet nub trapped between his messy lips. you moan at the sight of him and he lowly whines back at you. the vibration prompts your toes to curl.
he buries his face into you, tongue plunging in and out, leaving you dripping with every last nerve struck hot and raw. your hands claw at his hair as he claims you whole and greedily slurps up every wet drop of your essence, scooping it out from inside you and drinking it down like you’re his favorite sin.
to that, your hips jerk and grind into his face, clit catching over his straightlined nose. broken cries tear out from your throat as you whine and buck. he only hums, swallowing you hungrily, making you shudder with the filth of it.
“you come for me so quick, love.” he wipes the messier corners of his mouth with the back of his hand. you whine at him, hips still wriggling about. “you, hah, you can’t expect me to last when you do . . . that.”
“well, do . . you . . .” he kisses you deeply between each word, and you sigh between every pause, “want . . . more?”
“god, yes,” you gasp onto his soft lips. you can't even recall how long you've dreamed of having him like this. “please, adrian . . . i’ve been waiting for you.”
‘ as have i, ’ he murmurs onto your lips, a tender promise with the seal of a gentle kiss. in the same motion, your nightgown is bunched up and tossed aside. you aren't sure who's responsible; whether it was your growing lust or adrian’s nimble hands. all you know is that you wanted it off. you shiver once the cold air hits you, clinging to him and nuzzling into the broad plane of his scarred chest.
his arms curl around your soft frame, embracing you for a short while. then his mouth dips low to latch on your right breast, flitting his tongue over the bud of your perked nipple. your back arches off the window pane, and his fingers ghost down your middle to feel just how nicely you bend into his touch.
“i’ve never . . mm, bared myself to anyone before,” you admit to him for reasons you can’t explain, unsure of what compelled you. he squeezes and kneads your left breast, watching you revel in the careful pressure. he hums against your chest, then lifts his head to meet your eyes, gaze steady and earnest.
“i’m honored that you give yourself to me.” is his low whisper. tonight, he plans to ensure you never doubt why.
“i’m pleased i get to see you like this . . .” he mumbles against your lips, “the only one.” alucard grabs hold of your waist, guiding you snugly into the most spacious crook of the lengthy windowsill. your back is to the cool glass, and he climbs up with you, planting one foot on the ledge, his body caging yours in.
he braces a knee on the sill, fitting himself into the cradle of your thighs. his broad frame swallows up all the space. he lets his cock hang heavy between you both before he presses closer, and he shifts closer to settle it upon your bare skin, letting the flushed, leaking mauve tip drag beading precum up your belly. the heat of it makes you moan outright. his eyes darken. “i’ll cherish every inch of you.”
he doesn’t enter you— no, not yet. not when he can take a moment to look. alucard lingers instead, devouring your sightly figure. the hunger in your eyes, the soft slope of your collarbone, the delicious curve of your thighs, the glistening state of your swollen pussy. twice now, he’s already ruined you with his fingers and his mouth alike, yet you’re still trembling open for him, still fucking ready. you astonish him.
he wraps a steady hand around the base of his cock, gives himself a slow, grounding stroke, then leans in to press the warm underside of his tip against your puffy clit. he drags it over the sensitive bud, deliberate, teasing. a half-bitten laugh slips from him when your breath shudders out, head tipping back. “ahh—ha . . . you’re going to soak me, dragă. i can feel you already.”
alucard finally brings himself to your entrance, nudging at it with the hot, slick crown of his cock. your eyes meet— his warm, tender, wanting. his loving gaze calms your fear. and then the pressure starts. he eases forward, just a little, just enough for your pussy to stretch and pull him in, sucking down the width of his fat, leaking tip with a soft, obscene sound.
you mewl aloud. his breath stutters. a deep, throttled groan vibrates in his chest as his head falls forward, barely holding on. his balls tighten at the feel of you.
“oh, fuck— ohmygod, adrian!” you cry, voice breaking as he pushes in a little more. he sinks in with a low groan, sliding deeper into your hot, tight center. the sheer thickness of him makes for the sweetest burn, and your hand shoots to his taut stomach, palm flattening over his abs, pushing weakly.
“s-slowly,” you plead on a trembling gasp, thighs quivering around him. “i know, my love,” he grits out, voice tight with restraint as his cold hands grip your sides and he rolls his hips just enough to bury another inch inside you.
“easy,” he murmurs, though his voice is shaking just as badly. “let me all the way in.” your legs tremble around his waist. “ahh, you’re so . . deep,” you stammer out as he grinds his hips into yours. both of you moan, breath breaking in tandem. you're stuffed so full it almost aches, a thick, heavy pressure curling up into your belly like he’s rearranging you.
alucard leans over you; kissing, nuzzling, soothing you everywhere, easing the pain as your body tries to adjust. you hadn’t even realized you began to cry until he licks stray tears from the apples of your cheeks, pressing tender kisses over your flushed face. “shh, iubita mea . . .” he calls you his beloved between slow, shattering thrusts. “you take me so beautifully.”
he braces one palm beside your head on the windowpane and sinks into you with a slow, devastating push, sliding in deeper, deeper, until your pitched whines climb higher. one careful roll settles him flush against you, his hips molded to yours. with an ever so gentle thrust, he finally reaches the very hilt. you feel him all over— stretching you, warming you, filling your entire center until the pressure blooms up into your stomach.
his hands cradle your hips, holding you still as he seats himself completely inside you. his smooth balls slap wetly against the seam of your ass now that he’s buried himself fully. your breath punches out of you in a soft, broken cry. “mmfph, adrian—” he kisses the corner of your mouth, barely holding together.
your body shivers against him, a soft involuntary tremor running through your limbs. you wrap your arms around his neck as if you’re trying to pull him inside you even deeper. his long, wavy hair brushes your shoulders, tickling your collarbone. he hums at the desperation, the way you cling, the way you’re chest to chest, warm and pliant around him, still trying to accustom yourself to his size. he guides your thigh up around his waist, hand firm, possessive.
“you wanted this,” he murmurs against your throat, velvet threaded with something dark and unbearably hungry. his lips ghost over your jugular, tracing the frantic pulse there. “and now you tremble?” it’s mere teasing, but he can hear it. he can feel it. the steady pound of blood rushing throughout your heart. you’re excited, aroused, nervous. he’ll make sure to ease all your worries. “i’ll take care of you.” his tone grows serious, grounded. he plants another kiss to your neck, slow and soothing. “i always do. always will.”
then comes the slow draw of him, pulling out so torturously controlled that your mouth falls open, a thin sound leaving you. then he dives back in with perfect calculation, aimed and precise, hitting so deep you jerk beneath him, a choked cry bubbling up. you writhe helplessly, body tightening around every inch he feeds you. “oh, dragă,” he groans into the shell of your ear, voice thick with pleasure, “you feel like heaven.” his cock pulses from within you, and you can practically taste the very need on your tongue.
“i-it's— it’s so muchhh,”your complaint dissolves into a sob, the words breaking as a deeper thrust rocks through you. it has you panting against his shoulder, desperate for more friction, nails dragging down his back even though you know you can’t mark him.
you can’t believe this is real . . . pressed to alucard, making love to him, bathed in the cool, pale-blue glow of his grand room. he makes very little sound, save for the low grunts and deep rasps he breathes into the hollow of your ear, but his expression betrays everything— thin brows furrowed, cheeks flushed a delicate pink, his whole face drawn tight in pure, overwhelming bliss, and you’re the one doing it to him.
something warm blooms in your chest, pride settling right beside the ache of pleasure, because nothing exists now except the slow, devastating way he moves inside you. he’s carved out a space within you and made himself at home, twitching and throbbing so deep in your core you can feel every pulse of him.
your mouth hangs open, vulnerable sounds spilling out as he looks down at you with that concentrated, hungry knit of his brow. he drops his head and watches, eyes tracing where you both meet, admiring the way you mold around him when he draws in and out, the frothy ring of arousal that’s gathered around the base of him.
his palms slide down to your thighs, widening you, prying you open even more to fuck you deeper. he’s feral, but with an edge of reverence, like he can’t believe he gets to claim you like this. there’s no greater feeling than his body finding its way into your own.
the grand clock in the distant left wing begins to chime, each toll rolling through the castle’s empty corridors like a heartbeat. from afar, the deep toll rolls through the stone halls and brushes your awareness, but nothing deters adrian. he doesn’t so much as flinch. if anything, the sound seems to push him further. he moves faster, hammering into you with a devotion that borders on hunger, like the chime is a warning he chooses to ignore. he rather believes midnight itself has parted just to give you and him this special moment.
alucard keeps pounding into you like time itself has no claim on him, like there’s no tangible in this realm or the next could pull him from your body, not even your moans or screams. it’s now exactly a quarter past twelve. the castle sleeps under moon and fog, but you don’t; not when you’re being held wide awake by him and he’s made his way inside you, whispering low, trembling confessions into the curve of your neck as though you’re the only living thing in his world.
he buries his face into the smooth crook of your neck, voice shredded down to a rasp. “listen to you, taking me so well. fuck, you’re made for this . . made for me.” his hips hit harder, thrusts get sharper, hungrier. wet sounds echo off the windowpane. “you feel how deep i am? hm? i’m in you, love— right here.” he presses a hand over your lower belly, pushing himself deeper. that wracks a new, broken sound from the depths of your soul. “god, you’re squeezing me like you never want me to leave.”
you mewl at his filthy onslaught of mindless babbling, tightening your legs around his waist. the roll of his hips begins to falter. “i’ve wanted this— wanted you, for so long the thought drove me insane.” a deep groan pours out of him and you catch the sound with your mouth, dragging his face down to yours and crashing your lips together. the kiss is messy, starving, teeth grazing teeth as he thrusts through it. his groan melts into your throat, swallowed whole as if you’re drinking him in.
he tilts his head, claiming the angle he wants, and continues to lick straight into your mouth, tongue curling with yours as he sucks on it with obscene, wet precision. you glide your own pink muscle over the sharp sliver of his fang and his hips stutter. you feel him jolt, feel how it stokes something primal in him as he drives into you harder. the kiss grows heavier, wetter.
it bruises, devours, and consumes, matching every delicious drag of his cock inside you. it doesn’t break until minutes later, when your lungs start to burn and you have no choice but to rip away from him, panting desperately for air like you’ve surfaced from underwater.
“i could do this forever,” he sighs into your skin, leaving a fleeting kiss against your cheek. he slips a hand down and finds purchase of your left leg, effortlessly hiking over his broad shoulder. he leans down and pins you firmly against him, spreading you wider with the unrelenting weight of his solid body. it’s funny how such a cold touch could make you run so hot.
“alucard!” you scream, folded into an unrelenting mating press. your walls contract impossibly tight and he grunts, low and feral, hand cupping your jaw like he owns it, gentle but firm.
“my proper name.” he demands, rocking into you with greedy intent. you whine, grasping at him with both hands, nails digging into his wrist. “adriannn,” voice shattering, you cry out his name in a way that makes his cock throb and his eyes screw shut. he fucking shudders inside you, hips snapping harder, lips parting in a half-bitten growl as he loses himself in your heat.
“oh, yesss,” his mouth drops open to reveal the shiny glint of his fangs. an unfamiliar warmth blooms and spreads in his chest, tinting his alabaster skin a suggestively rosy pink. he appears so strong yet equally wrecked above you; firm biceps coiling around your calves to keep your legs draped over his shoulders, the twitch of his defined abdomen with every thrust, the rise and fall of his broad scarred chest . . . so overwhelmingly beautiful that your body trembles not just from pleasure but from the godlike view of him, an angel you can’t resist.
he looks so impossibly ethereal you think just looking at his breathtaking beauty a second longer might be enough to take you there.
either that, or perhaps it’ll be the way his fingertips suddenly ghost over your clit.
your body immediately responds, back jerking off the chilled glass and pressing into him. “ohmygoddd, yes,” you gasp aloud, and you think some drool has escaped you. a thin sliver of it pools down your agape mouth. he peppers your lips with wet, teasing kisses, whispering filth-laced little nothings. you try to form his name, but the way he’s fucking you leaves your voice gone. he certainly doesn’t mind it.
“are you drawing closer?” he asks softly, applying more pressure to your throbbing little nub. it’s accompanied with wet claps of his pelvis meeting yours. “uhnnn—mm, uh-uh,” your answering nod is shaky, rendered incoherent from the maddening pleasure.
you try a response, but the way he touches you so sweetly steals all your words. you can only about how absurdly skilled he is, wondering how on earth he learned how to do all these filthy, sensual things . . . maybe from those impossibly long books lining his endless library.
he feels the change in you before you even say a word—your breath catches, your thighs squeezing tight around his narrow hips, your hands clutch desperately onto his wide shoulders as though you’re trying to tether yourself to him. your walls clench around him, slick heat coating him as he hones in on your every tremble. his hips stutter for a moment, not in hesitation, but a response to the intense shift in you; the kind of focus that only happens because he’s entirely attuned to you.
your body answers before your voice does, shuddering underneath the weight of his hands in instinctive, trembling arcs. his honeyed eyes drag over your face, hungry and intent, like he’s memorizing the exact moment before you unravel, committing it to the deepest crook of his brain. his forehead rests on yours, his breath warm and steady while yours breaks apart.
“look at me,” he murmurs, gently coaxing you back to his amber-gold gaze. “i . . . i can’t— i’ve never, ah, felt like this,” you heave, chest rising and falling against his. your dainty fingers are tangled in his dense blonde hair, heart hammering against ribs that barely contain it. “being with you . . . it’s so much, i— don’t want it to stop.” a shiver rolls through you and you bite your lip, letting a small, tremulant laugh slip out.
he fills you with vulnerable need and raw trust all at once. you ache at the way he’s worshiping your body tonight. your blown eyes flutter to his, wet at the lashline. the repetitive slam of his hips makes you choke on every syllable. the deeper his cock goes, the more it stirs you up and muddles your brain.
your body melts into his, pussy clenching uncontrollably around him. he watches, gold eyes hooded with lust, murmuring, “you’re mine. all of you.” between harsh, deliberate thrusts that leave you shaking. even as he fucks you senseless, keeping you exposed, needy, he still manages to makes it feel gentle and safe; like every moan, every stroke, every shiver is exactly where he wants you. you’re dizzy with how he’s handling you, careful but consuming all at once.
“i— i can’t even— adri . . ” you try to form words, even his very name, but they crumble into soft, needy whimpers, caught between gasps and moans. your hips grind desperately into him, and every nerve in your body sings out with the sensation of him ploughing into you, leaving your words to dissolve into the cold plane of his shoulder.
alucard hums low against the soft curls of your textured hair, pressing a cool, lingering kiss atop the crown of your head. you're almost entirely overheating. “shh, love . . don’t talk,” he murmurs, voice rough and gentle alike, fingers trailing down your spine. “you need not say a thing. just . . . feel. keep doing that for me, yes?” you nod dumbly, incapable of doing anything else. his hand curls around your smaller one, intertwining, and he nuzzles his cheek to yours tenderly.
“i’m close too, love . .” the words spill out on a deep, shaking groan, his hips driving into you with frantic need. “don’t you fucking slip away— stay with me,” your pussy spasms around the girth of him, gripping, milking him, and his breath hitches like you’ve punched the wind out of him. yoou clutch at him— arms around his neck, nails down his back, and he collapses a little against you, chest trembling, cock twitching deep inside you.
“oh, christ alive,” he growls, forehead pressed to yours. “i want to watch you lose it, right here on my cock . . .” his lips crash to yours, all tongue and teeth and messy breath, like kissing you is the only thing holding him together. the careful patience from earlier is gone; he’s wild, hungrier for you now, messy thrusts sharp and hungry. the tension flooding his body racks through him, muscles straining. the tension inside him pulls tight, tighter, until he’s fucking shaking with it.
“mm, iubire,” love, adrian calls you, traces of his mother tongue uncontrollably slipping through. his voice cracks beautifully on the word. “come with me, please.” his voice narrows to mere heat and breath, he holds you as though the moment is something he never wants to lose.
your whole body feels impossibly hot and wound so tight, your cunt fluttering around him with every drag of his cock, getting wetter, messier, louder. a molten pressure builds low in your belly, spreading out in quick, breathless sparks that make your thighs jerk and your toes curl against his back.
he drags you back onto his length, slamming you onto him so deep that the wet smack of your bodies echoes, your cunt sucking around him until you’re seated to the hilt and he does so all over again, each pull heavy and slow. every thrust grinds it just right— too much, not enough, right on the edge of breaking.
and when the wave finally seizes you, your orgasm crashes through in a voilent shiver, stealing your sounds, wracking through your bones, curling you helplessly into him, he breaks with you.
a guttural moan pours from his chest as he drags you tight against him, burying his face in the warm curve of your neck, moaning deeply into it. thick ropes of his vampiric cum spill deep into your womb, spurting out more with every grind of his hips. you’d almost expected it— of course he’d finish inside you. it’s primal, claiming, the only thing that makes sense for alucard.
adrian holds you tight as the final tremors of your orgasm ripple through you both, grinding the last pulses of his release deeper into you. he keeps you pinned to him as he works out the final, desperate rolls of his hips.
the soft thatch of blonde hair at his pelvis drags over your throbbing clit with every grind, overstimulating you until you gasp. you ride it out together, toes curling against the dip of his spine. your body’s locked to his like you’re still trying to take more of him, even with the both of you wrung out and shaking.
you slump against the cold window, glass chilling your overheated skin, breaths coming out in ragged little bursts. your fingers stay buried in his hair like you need the anchoring. his cheek settles into the warm divide of your cushiony chest while your body still twitches with the echoes of everything he did to you.
the world beyond the glass is hushed except for the soft patter of rain, but inside, you can feel every warm drip of his cum trickling down your inner thigh, his hands gripping your ass possessively as though he’s not finished— just catching his breath with you.
his breath stirs against your cheek, a quiet, content exhale that melts into the space between you. his hips stay fitted to yours, the slow pulse of him still inside you making your breath hitch. he doesn’t thrust, doesn’t need to. but the way he holds you there, bodies joined, says everything. his thighs bracket yours, positioned so intimately you couldn’t pull away even if you tried. and he’s not hiding it; that protective, possessive instinct simmering just beneath his softness.
the heated moment passes in an ebb of slow waves, but when it fades, he still doesn’t pull away. adrian stays inside you, around you, for a long, quiet beat; his forehead resting against yours, hovering just an inch above your puffy pink lips, breath ghosting over your mouth like he’s still tasting you. his eyes are shut, as though he’s fighting his way back into his own body.
the hand that guided you so expertly all night traces a slow path up your side, resting heavy just beneath your ribs, thumb dragging lazy circles like he’s relearning the shape of you.
when his honey-colored eyes blink open, they soften in a way you’ve never seen, as though the high structure of walls he kept around himself have finally cracked open and fallen down. then he lowers himself carefully, chest to chest, letting the solid weight of him settle over you, grounding you. the rumbly sound he gives is felt more than heard; a low, satisfied hum pressed into your shoulder, like you’re the only place he’s ever wanted to rest.
“you’re so warm . . . i don’t think i can let you go.” alucard mumbles the words against your sweat-stricken throat. his fingers thread between yours, interlacing slow and unhurried, and he plants a kiss to your dewy skin. nothing heated this time, just a soft claiming.
“that’s fine,” you whisper, voice still a little wrecked, “i like being this close to you.” you nuzzle the slope of your nose against his jaw, feeling the shiver it pulls from him. “well, you can have more of that if you’d like.” he smiles back, a soft and sleepy one that doesn’t hide how winded the sex has made him, “more of me.” he pulls you into his arms, a subtle afterglow sticking to your warm complexion and his pale skin.
you tip your head back, brushing a playful kiss against his collarbone, heat rolling off you in slow waves. “you make it impossible to think straight,” you murmur, curling your arms back around him. he goes on to stroke your hair, cuddling one another as you both sink into the windowpane. the two of you fit together like you were made to rest this way.
your very own dhampir huffs out a low, breath-warmed laugh against your hair, the sound soft enough to almost disappear into the quiet room. his hand slides up your back, not seeking anything more, just rooting you to him. “good,” he sighs, brushing a kiss to your forehead. “because you undo me just as much.”
his blunted nails stroke down the base of your spine, the kind that feel like a secret only he’s allowed to touch. there you stay, legs loosely tangled, his heartbeat strong where your chest rests against him.
adrian’s body envelops yours entirely, as if keeping you sheathed around him is his only known way of keeping you safe. his touch is gentle, sweeping a loose curl from your cheek with a tenderness that warms something inside you. gone is the raw hunger; what lives in his eyes now is softer, deeper, and irrevocably changed, like devotion settling into place.
“stay here right here, wrapped around me . . .” he asks with sincerity, spoken so low it makes your chest throb. it’s nothing close to a command, more like a quiet plead. “just like this.”
“okay,” you whisper, a shy smile softening your mouth. “i’m not going anywhere, adrian.” you don’t want the night to end. you don’t want to slip out of this warmth, this fragile honesty forming between you. this isn’t a fleeting thing to be lost to the night air. it feels too real, too right.
you curl closer into adrian, fitting against him beneath the spill of moonlight as though your bodies were always meant to fall into this shape. you trace idle shapes on his strong chest as he kneads your waist sensually. tension from the last of your highs dissolve.
the night, the castle, the world outside— all of it fades, leaving only the gentle rise and fall of your breaths syncing together as he holds you close, as if letting go was never an option at all.
Ridiculously so - of course he himself is huge... you wonder if it's everywhere, as he taps his thigh, and your lips part, tummy clenching with need for him, breath caught in your throat.
"Need something, sweets?" He asks so casually, smiling at you as you sit across from him, clearing your throat.
"No. No I'm sorry..." Fuck how long are his fingers!? Five inches?? More...
He chuckles a little, leaning forward, fingers slipping down off his thighs now, as he gathers up wads of cash to pay you. He surprised you when he started buying weed, him the star student at college.
But the two of you have become cool. You - the little stoner weeb, him - the straight laced perfect student. His fingers so long and thick are ruining you and your ovulation brain, as he counts the money.
"How much for this again-"
"How long are your fingers?"
He blinks a bit then, smirking at you, raising a brow behind those obnoxious shades he loves to wear. "Huh?"
"Shit... nothing..." Satoru sets the money down then, leaning forward, so close you heat up, tummy clenching and heating up. "That was so rude, I'm sorry..."
"How long are they?" He repeats, blue eyes lidded, when they brush up your thigh, elgant long fingers leaving goosebumps in their trail, making you tremble. "That what you ask?"
"N-no!? I mean..." He chuckles softly, some of that snowy hair falling over a brow, thick fingers even higher. "Maybe?"
"Long enough to hit that spot," you bite your lower lip, legs pressing together. "Or... probably long enough to hit your cervix."
Fuck.
"Would you like a demonstration, for research purposes?" His voice is like honey, his lips twitching at the corners, pink plump ones you want all over your body. "Of how long they are?"
That's how you end up with two of Satoru Gojo's long fingers buried inside your cunt, plunging all the way to the knuckle and curling up. He's knelt right between your thighs on that old suede couch of yours, pressure hitting as he moves them up and down, up and down, a hand braced on one side of you, that tie tickling your skin, earning your tug.
"F-fuck..." You're clinging to one of his veiny forearms, head falling back, eyes fluttering shut, pulling on that tie with a clenched fist, the other slipping down his veiny forearm.
"You're this wet just thinkin' about my fingers? Hah," he's smirking down at you, curling them mean and deep, making you gasp out. "I dunno, how many inches ya think? More than any dick you've had?"
"Shit you're conceited," he just grins, pausing those like he's gonna yank 'em out before you get to cum. "Y-yes. Don't stop. Fuck... all the weed you want."
"All I want, hmm? Better make you cum real good then," he whispers, starting to scissor them in and out of your syrupy folds, making you clench around him. He sucks in a breath, eyes locking. "Hah - ya gonna cum this quick sweetheart?"
"Mnh!" He's hitting your spots with expert precision, working you so good you're about to shatter, gasping out with every plunge of those thick digits in your messy hole - the word sweetheart doing shit to your brain.
"Easiest weed ever, making you cum like this," he whispers, leaning low. "I'll still pay though."
"W-why?" You manage to squeak out, as his lips hover an inch from yours, fingers scissoring faster, your cunt a drooling mess that he can't wait to bury his cock into.
"Because. I'm rich sweetheart," he looks at you under those snowy lashes, curling both fingers up in your gummy walls, making you scream out, back arching. He doesn't say the real reason - that he should be paying you for the privilege of getting his fingers deep in your hole. "Go ahead, cum for me pretty."
You're done for.
Nerdy, perfect Satoru Gojo has you gushing and dripping as your orgasm hits. His thumb from his other hand brushes your nipple, lips kissing down your throat, his glasses fogging up just a bit from the condensation of his breath, tickling your skin and making you pulse.
"Fuckkk," the word escapes so languidly from the back of your throat, the smoke you'd had earlier just enhancing how fucking good you feel. "Gonna... ah - gonna cum againnn!"
"So easy f'me," he murmurs, talking cocky even as his cock twitches, heated cheeks from just how pretty you are like this. Sweat on your brow while your cunt gets louder, messier, a creamy ring on his knuckles. "Greedy girl, go ahead, fuck yourself on them."
You're shameless, arching up your hips to do just that, cunt gushing and spasming, nails digging into his forearm now and making him hiss. "Ngh!"
"Would ya look at that," he huffs, lips sucking your throat now, right where your pulse flutters, feeling you cum again and wanting it to milk him dry. "There you go, doing s'good too."
He's talking you through it, leaning up and running his fingers through your soppy folds, moaning when you twitch and spasm underneath him. "Oh my god..."
He chuckles like this was easy or normal, slipping two fingers out of your messy cunt with a pop before slurping your slick right off his fingers. Your mouth drops, gasping at the filthy sight.
He sees fucking hearts in your eyes then.
"Mmm..." He moans and licks more of your embarrassing amount of cum off, before gripping your chin with his clean hand. "Open."
You open eagerly, and preppy, nerdy Satoru Gojo spits your cum in it, right on your tongue.
Oh fuck.
Your cunt has a heart beat. Your eyes have hearts in them... Are you fucked dumb and in love from Gojo's fingers!?!?
"So cute," he languidly says, leaning down and pressing a messy kiss on your clit, you whimper, hips jerking from the little brush, he parts those puffy lips and eyes it. "All jumping around. Aww."
"I... you... um..." You're done for, brain short circuiting, he helps you up and fixes your strap with the two fingers that were inside you, his lips glossy with your cum.
"So, how long do you think they are?"
You blush furiously, girl math isn't mathing. "Five inches?"
He spreads his fingers, contemplating. "Six I think. Small in comparison to..." He trails off, grabbing the cash, you shove it at him, shaking your head.
"No. Free weed. Take all of it."
He chuckles now. "Well, I'll have to give that clit attention next time then, as a thank you," he teases, kissing you and tasting your cunt mixed with cherry lip gloss and a hint of purp. "Thank you, sweetheart."
"Fuck, thank you..." He walks out with a smile, adjusting his nerdy cute little tie, when you light up a blunt and melt against the couch.
Your next question?
"How big is your -"
inspired by a tiktok thirst trap from @yenayaps thank her hehe <3
frank’s facial expression softens when he finds you standing outside his door with mascara running down your face.
you sniffle as you say, “i’m sorry, i didn’t know where else to go—“
he stops you there, taking your hand and guiding you further into his apartment. he wordlessly grabs you a cloth for your face and a glass of water, and his kindness takes you by surprise. for someone so rough around the edges, he’s awfully soft when it comes to you.
frank waits patiently for you to collect yourself, although he’s silently seething inside at the thought of the reason for your tears. he knows it’s murdock without you needing to say.
“we had a fight,” you confirm and frank forces himself not to say. “same old stuff. i don’t even know why i entertain it. he’s a bad communicator, always has been, but it’s worse lately. he’s… complicated. i can’t read him.”
frank nods and chooses his next words carefully, “sweetheart, i… how many more times are you gonna show up here like this? how many more times are you gonna go back to him?”
your lower lip wobbles, but you know he’s right. sensing your sensitivity, frank runs his thumb gently over your lip and sighs as he presses his forehead to yours.
“you deserve better,” he murmurs. “better than some asshole who doesn’t know how to love you.”
“what if i’m unlovable, frank?” you whisper.
“no,” he shakes his head. “you’re far from it, darlin’.”
because if only you knew how often he thinks about you. how you came into his mess of a life and made everything better, and now he can’t imagine that there was ever a life before you.
No. He’s frowning, brows furrowed, arms crossed, lips pursed into a pout so dramatic it could win an Oscar. His Six Eyes are locked on your peacefully sleeping face, like you personally betrayed him, which, according to his dream, you did.
You, meanwhile, are blissfully unaware. Snoring softly. Probably dreaming about something cute. Or, if Satoru’s dream is to be believed, some other man.
“Unbelievable.” He mutters, glaring at you. “I spoil you, I love you, and you go and do that?”
You stir, mumbling something incoherent.
He squints accusingly. “Oh, so you can talk in your sleep too. Who is he, huh?”
Your eyes flutter half open at the noise, hair a mess. “...Huh?”
“Don’t ‘huh’ me!” He says, pointing an accusatory finger. “You cheated!”
Your brain takes a full five seconds to process that. “...What?”
“I saw you! You were talking to another man!”
You blink at him. “Satoru,” you say slowly, “were you dreaming?”
He hesitates. “...Maybe. But that’s not the point!”
“Oh no, it’s definitely the point.” You say, sitting up now, squinting. “You were dreaming of a man while I’m right here?”
His mouth drops open. “Wait, what? No, I-”
“YOU were dreaming of a man...” Your eyes widen dramatically, as if the realisation just hit you like a truck. “Satoru... are you... gay?”
“What?! No!”
“You don’t want me anymore, is that it? You’re dreaming about men now? Was it-” You gasp loudly “- was it Suguru? I knew it! I knew you had something for him-!” You snap your fingers.
He looks personally attacked. “WHAT?! No, baby, he’s my friend!”
“Oh my god.” You whisper, lips quivering. “You wanna go be his boyfriend and leave me all alone, don’t you?”
He scrambles, eyes wide as he moves to cradle your face reasuringly. “No no no, baby, I would never! I love you. Only you. Please, believe me-”
You stare at him for a long, dramatic second. Then you smile as sweet as an angel, dropping the act. “Oh okay, baby. I believe you. Goodnight.”
You flop back down, tug the blanket up, and close your eyes like nothing happened.
Satoru exhales out a sigh. “Thank god.” He mumbles, relieved to have made it out of that alive, before settling back beside you. “Goodnight, baby.”
The corner of your mouth quirks up just slightly. A few seconds of silence. Then:
pt. 2 of clark and his glasses aka fucking supes for the first time
what the hell did you get yourself into?
that was the question that was bouncing off every wall of your head which was being rendered stupid by clark’s– superman’s stupidly fat cock.
when you asked him with those beautiful glassy eyes to fuck you as superman for the first time, he couldn’t hold back. didn’t even dream of it.
oh no, clark was determined on making you love every single aspect of him, especially the one he accidentally revealed to you just now. and if that meant pounding you into the mattress until you drool and sob and whine for mercy he graciously will not be giving you? yeah, he’s doing it in a heartbeat.
matter of fact, he’s doing it right now, rubbing the edges of his dick against your snug walls. they seem to have remembered his shape now, he notices, but that’s not enough. no. he wants to condition you into loving him. the real him—kal-el.
yeah, maybe he thought of pavlov conditioning you into getting aroused every time he took his glasses off, but that’s for another time.
right now, his eyes flicker down to your bent back and your rippling ass and fuck– he could just cum.
the way your sweet moans have turned into nasty gargles of you choking on your spit, and the way those beautiful eyes he gets so lost in every day of the week have rolled back further than humanely possible—it all has his balls tightening and tightening.
but he doesn’t snap yet, no. instead, he swiftly flips you, earning a small "ah-!" from you, the sudden action dragging you back into reality.
because, yes, at this point, you felt like this was a cosmic experience. you were barely even present. your mind was hazy and nearly buried deep, deep underneath all the pleasure he was making you take, the only thing now repeating in your head being the rhythmic thud, thud, thuds of his cock knocking at your cervix.
when you’re brought back to your senses, it’s all the more euphoric because you feel it. you really, truly feel it and that gives you a newfound clarity, which has you renewing your moaning, crying out loud for more of this sensation.
and clark loves it. from the slick of your pussy to the symphony of your pleads, kal-el genuinely thinks he has achieved heaven on earth. you were accepting him for who he was—what he was trying to hide from you—and fudge if that’s not the biggest turn on of them all.
when you gather enough strength to blink your eyes back to life, they bore down, instinctively glaring at the intrusion. and an intrusion it was, because you could see the obscene bulge his thickness brought into you and- wait.
did his cock get fucking bigger?
"l-language, baby… the mouth you got on you, jeez…" he snickers, hips stuttering at the sound of you formulating your first correct sentence in… whatever how many hours. "i-it’s too– gosh, clark, i-– c-can’t-!" and you struggle. you struggle to bring your leftover thoughts to life because he’s suddenly rubbing your puffy, aching clit with those big fingers of his and he’s smiling. he’s fucking smiling at you, thinking of how much of a cutie you are.
because yes, your swollen lips and your tears stained cheeks and your messy hair and of course, the spit connecting your teeth together are all working in unison to make you look like the cutest sweetheart he’s ever had and ever will have.
"i love you like this, y’know..?" he whispers, leaning in to nibble on your ear as your wrap your frail arms around his thick, strong neck, holding onto him like a lifeline.
and he briefly thinks of teasing you a little more before coming to a full stop when you weakly mutter back, "so do i… i-i love you a-as you are—clark a-and s-superman… "
and neither of you were surprised when he spilled buckets worth of cum into your poor pussy, shaking and moaning in your ear. moans turned into whines, and whines turned into whimpers, a full crescendo of pleasure you weren’t lucid enough to witness as your orgasm ripped you apart, completely shattering whatever was left of your lucidity.
both of your bodies shook, trembled. your walls clenched around him, tight and warm, pleading for him not to go. "ssshit- fuck-! fuck…" clark uncharacteristically swore in your ear, his teeth tightening at the sudden wave of overstimulation.
when you both came down from your highs, all that could be heard left was heavy breathing, and then a low chuckle from clark.
"never… never thought i’d… swear like this in front of you… m’sorry, hon." he kisses your cheek, his being red from the embarrassment (and your previous activities.)
your mind took a minute to steer the wheel, eyes slowly drafting to his. when what he said finally registered in your head, you began to laugh—a weak but sincere laugh. "that was so effing hot clark, you… you have no idea how hot it was, holy crap…"
I should lock the fuck in *half an hour passes* I should lock the fuck in *half an hour passes* I should lock the fuck in *half an hour passes* I should-
in the same vein, google gemini has a logo in the corner of its generated photos. obviously someone could crop it out but given how lazy users of ai can be chances are they wont
