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ghoultramp · 3 years

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Tailor Made [Vampire!Nanami x F!Reader]

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↳ pairing: kento nanami x f!reader

↳ content: trick or treat halloween zine fic vampire!nanami, reader is a sugar baby, no curse au, modern vampire au, blood letting, a bit tof body worship, vaginal fingering, cunnilingus, mirror sex, halloween

↳ words: 5.9k

⇢ summary: Kento Nanami, tailor extraordinaire. And you just so happen to be his favourite client. “When was the last time you truly admired yourself? Felt any worth for yourself?” he asked, and when he pressed the palm of his free hand against the small of your back. You instinctively straightened up. “The gown may be exquisite,” he continued as his nimble fingers deftly attended to the tight fastenings of the corset, his eye contact both unsettling and spellbinding, “but what lies beneath is far more magnificent. “ You felt the gentle relief of the bodice expand as his fingers worked their way upward. Kento leaned close to your ear, lowering his voice to a breathy whisper, “Wouldn’t you agree?”

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Your feet ached from the ridiculous heels you'd been wearing all evening. You were no stranger to fancy parties, your clients mostly being that of the rich businessmen variety who just want some young eye candy on their arm for the evening. It was never any more than that, spending time with lonely (mostly old) men in exchange for fanciful, over-the-top gifts, and a large bank account.

It hadn't taken long for the glimmer of those rose-gold tinted glasses to wear off. Disillusionment came quickly in this profession. You had your wits about you, but others weren't so lucky, and you felt truly blessed this evening as you looked down at your gown. The other attendees surely would have thought it had been tailored especially for you.

Which you weren't entirely sure was true.[U1]

You recalled the conversation with the rather astute, and frankly quite handsome, tailor earlier that week[U2]. It had been a last-minute call you’d made directly to him, there had to be something you could borrow.

He was highly sought after by the highest class and it had been a surprise to learn that it would take only the Emperor himself to have an appointment on the books for him not to drop everything for your client. You were even more shocked to learn that that also extended to you.

Sure enough, barely three days later, you had been presented with something that belonged in a fairy-tale. He had regaled you with a story about this impossibly beautiful gown, about how it had been worn only once on the runway.

With its breath-taking bodice, encrusted with onyx-and-ruby gems around the top of the deep heart-shaped corset—your waist cinched to the Gods—and its plumage of black and red ostrich feathers detailing the bottom hem, it was certainly fit for the runway.

Not to mention how over the top the elegant poet’s shirt that you wore beneath it looked, a vintage cream that offset the black of the bodice, both of which needed an extra set of hands to button you into.

It was the star of the night as it glistened and gleamed in the low mood lighting of the club. While other women pranced around in their low-effort and stereotypically sexy Halloween outfits, there you had stood looking like a Goddess of the Damned.

Not your typical Halloween costume, but he had insisted, and then refused to give you anything else.

You found the circumference of the ball gown skirt of the outfit ridiculous. It was over the top and borderline outrageous, but so was everything else about this ensemble, including the crown made of black crystals that adorned your head.

But, nevertheless, it had been excellent for business. The carry case for your business cards was now practically empty. You made a mental note to order some new ones and the thought made you smile.

Looking down at the delicate timepiece on your wrist, an expensive gift from one of your clients, you wondered if he would even let you inside at gone four in the morning. You gazed up at the quaint little storefront, a glimmer of light peeked through the drawn curtains.

You hadn’t anticipated such a late evening, but you also hadn’t anticipated wearing a dress that needed two people to get into, either. He had no choice, tired or not, you decided.

Reaching up for the door knocker, hung from an ornate bronze lion’s head, you couldn’t help but gasp when the door opened before you had time to touch it.

“And just what time do you call this?” he chided, there was a lilt of humour to his tone.

“I’m a busy girl, Kento,” you retorted, “what can I say?”

He gave you an exhale of breath through his nose in response. You peered behind him, spotting two large panels of fabric on the counter and a pincushion, a needle with thread through its eye had been jammed in the top.

“Don’t you ever sleep?” you asked, turning your focus back to him, his face concealed in darkness.

The corner of Kento’s lip twitched upward before he responded. “When it suits me,” he told you.

He gave you a courteous bow before taking a few steps back into the shop, accommodating your oversized gown as you pushed through the threshold. You could see the outline of a roguish smirk that, you hated to admit, made you weak at the knees.

With your back to Kento as he closed the large front door, you took in the sight before you. You’d never seen the place in such a low light before, artificially dimmed to the luminescence of candlelight. It felt oddly romantic with the old oak furnishings that decorated the sizable room. It was open and spacious, regal yet comfortable, and homely.

Funny, you’d never noticed it in the light of day when the sun shone brightly through the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“I presume you enjoyed it.” His voice startled you, rudely bringing you back to the present.

“Can’t complain too much,” you shrugged. “You were right about the dress.”

You hated that he was right. It didn’t matter what he’d been right about, it was the fact that he was right. There was a nagging pull that made you feel rather defiant when you felt him close the gap between you.

When you turned to meet him, it was only then that you truly took in his appearance in these hours. What you saw before you stole the breath from your lungs. He hadn’t looked this way when you’d left him yesterday afternoon.

His blond hair, usually so slickly styled back, was dishevelled. You dared to think that it framed his strong, defined cheekbones rather exquisitely and you hoped that he wouldn’t notice the soft, rising blush to your cheeks when the thought crept into your consciousness.

You were sure he saw the change in the shade of your face when you gazed further down, your eyes met his waist with hunger. He wore a boned corseted waistcoat made up of ivory and black panels, and you tried not to chew on your lip when you saw how broad his trimmed waist made him look.

“Looks like I’m not the only one who had somewhere to be last night,” you finally choked, stealing one last glance over his torso, particularly those broad shoulders, before you met his eyes.

There had never been an instance where you had seen Kento Nanami’s eyes. You’d never witnessed him without his odd, round goggles. You’d often wondered whether they were just a fixture of his face at this point.

Those thoughts had been disproven now; heavy lids and dark circles framed his narrow brown eyes. He looked so shrewd and serious but undeniably beautiful with the angles of his face, sharp and severe.

Placing his hands on both your biceps, he gently guided you into stepping to the side before taking effortlessly long strides toward the counter.

“Rude,” you uttered, but in truth, his behaviour didn’t bother you.

You’d gotten to know each other well over the past few months, your highest paying client—a lonely businessman who missed his wife, and with more money than sense—would insist he bring you here twice a week, at the very least.

Kento Nanami was a serious man by nature and took his work very seriously indeed. You had obviously interrupted him doing something far more important than undressing you.

“I had business to attend to,” he told you, plucking the needle from the pincushion. “To which I still must attend.” He gestured toward one of the worn leather chairs placed around the room, the closest one to the counter. “So, if you wouldn’t mind.”

“You’re joking,” you said dumbly.

Kento merely moved his eyes to look at you, his thin eyebrows rising ever so slightly. A look that meant, ‘ Of course I’m not joking. Sit .’

You obeyed with little reluctance. You contorted your lips into a displeased pout as you lowered yourself into the large armchair and wondered if you’d even have any ribs left after today. You had to pat the skirt of the gown down as it engulfed you. The tulle was being rather uncooperative.

“Fucking thing,” you cursed under your breath, thumping down both palms into your lap, or what would have been your lap if not for the enormous amount of tulle beneath the outer fabric of the gown.

“Don’t think I don’t see that smirk,” you accused.

You were right, he was smirking. Kento was rather enjoying your childish display of frustration, letting out a low chuckle when you conceded and crossed your arms over your chest.

“Someone’s grumpy,” he nagged, knowing it was sure to irritate you further.

“Oh, shut up,” you snapped, blushing. “Aren’t you even going to offer me a drink?”

Kento furrowed his brow slightly, mid-stitch.

“Clearly you can see I’m working,” he was serious, the remnants of his smirk long gone. “You’re not incapable of such a simple task now, are you?”

Peering at him through narrow eyes made no difference to Kento as he continued about his work, his long nimble fingers deftly sewing at what you assumed to be a hem of some sort.

You huffed indignantly as you confidently pushed both palms down on the broad arms of the chair, but to your displeasure, it still seemed impossible to heave yourself out of it.

In truth, Kento could stitch in an invisible hem with his eyes closed, untold years of practice came in handy when he wanted to steal a glance at you. He watched as you rose merely a few inches, confident that this second attempt would relieve you of your confines.

It did not.

“May I ask—”

“No, you may not,” you snapped, now focused on kicking off the absurd heels you wore. You thought that maybe flat feet would be the way to go, “but you’re going to anyway, so what is it?”

Finishing his whip stitch, the hem expertly finished, he snipped the end of the thread.

“Did you spend all evening avoiding chairs or something?” he asked, stabbing the needle one final time into the pincushion.

“Or something,” you mumbled, using your toes to grip at the carpet, grunting as you gave one final push.

“Oh,” Kento mused, bending over slightly to rest one arm flat against the counter. He placed his other elbow on top of the dark wood to support his cheek with a closed fist before he continued. “Do tell.”

You furrowed your brow, your warms wavering out at your side as you finally managed to steady yourself on your feet. You gave a long, deep sigh of relief.

“I spent most of the evening on his lap,” you shrugged. “He treats me like I’m a doll,” you told him, reaching down for your heels. They gave a satisfying clack as you picked them up by the back counter. “That’s the only reason he brought me to you, I think,” you ruminated as you closed the distance between the pair of you. “He likes to dress me up and show me off, nothing more.”

“You don’t sound too enthused,” he noted. “You have regrets?”

You shrugged and gently placed the shoes on the countertop. Kento took a step back and straightened up. There was a heavy, pregnant pause.

“Are you going to get me out of this monstrosity or not?” you said instead of answering him.

He hummed rather solemnly, cradling his chin between his thumb and forefinger as he examined the length of you. You felt the heat rise in your cheeks.

“I’d rather you let me enjoy my handiwork a little more first,” he said.

“Kento, please,” you were almost close to begging at this point as you watched him emerge from behind his sewing booth.

“Not just yet,” he told you.

The firmness in his tone made it impossible for you not to obey as he curled his finger, a gesture to follow him as he approached the main dais in the large room. A familiar fixture of the store, but tonight it felt different.

Kento stopped just before the floor met the platform, where it raised and formed a circle. He reached out his hand to assist you up onto the stage, and while the spotlights weren’t particularly bright, in the relative darkness of the candle-lit store, they were brilliantly glaring.

It created the impression of a stage in front of a set of dark velvet curtains.

The word ritual came to mind as you planted your feet firmly on the cold, hard marble. The light was so dazzling that when you turned around, it wasn’t until Kento took a step forward that you were able to make out his face. Not once did his soft grasp of your hand drop.

While your eyes still adjusted to the stark differences in the level of light you’d been exposed to, Kento guided your hand above your head, effortlessly leading you into a half-twirl.

He was being so theatrical, but you had come to expect nothing less from him by now. He took pride in his work, and it showed.

Kento gently guided your arm down to rest by your side before he finally let go of your hand. You studied him as he came into view at your side, feeling your heartbeat quicken when he reached for the curtain’s drawstring.

And opened it.

You were on full display. Just for him. In this outrageous outfit.

At a ridiculous hour.

“What are you doing now?” you asked, your voice barely a peep as you watched him look you up and down in the mirror.

“Admiring,” he told you simply, not even giving you the courtesy of turning to face you, his gaze far more interested in the clothes that concealed your body.

“You really are arrogant, aren’t you,” you mumbled.

Kento turned to you, shaking your head.

“Who says I’m just admiring my work,” he told you.

Now you were definitely blushing. If the quickly rising heat in your cheeks wasn’t a dead giveaway, Kento’s low chuckle was more than enough to let you know he’d noticed.

“You’re not usually so coy,” he observed, taking the steps to stand behind you.

When he placed his hands on your shoulders, his narrow eyes seemed to pierce through you in the mirror.

Why, all of a sudden, did you feel like the prey beneath the predator?

“Where’s that bite gone?” he asked.

In truth, you had no idea. You had been in this very spot before, the very same scenario roughly twelve hours earlier, but something had changed. Something was different, and it wasn’t just the light.

Time was irrelevant as he held your gaze, and you wondered how long it had been since you last blinked as you cleared your throat. Your mouth felt dry.

“How long will this take?” you asked.

You rolled your bottom lip between your teeth, breaking his gaze to look at the floor. Flustered didn’t even begin to cover it when Kento reached for your chin, your chest heaved as your breath wavered, as he took your jaw between his beautiful, long fingers. He was tender yet powerful as he raised your head, with no choice but to look ahead—at yourself, at him—you dared not close your eyes. For what reason, you couldn’t place, the air of authority Kento gave off told you that this was an instruction not to be challenged.

“When was the last time you truly admired yourself? Felt any worth for yourself?” he asked, and when he pressed the palm of his free hand against the small of your back. You instinctively straightened up. “The gown may be exquisite,” he continued as his nimble fingers deftly attended to the tight fastenings of the corset, his eye contact both unsettling and spellbinding, “but what lies beneath is far more magnificent. “ You felt the gentle relief of the bodice expand as his fingers worked their way upward. Kento leaned close to your ear, lowering his voice to a breathy whisper, “Wouldn’t you agree?”

When Kento let go of your chin, you followed his hand in the reflection to where it settled against your stomach. You felt the restriction of the corset loosen on your breasts as he finally finished untying the intricate loops and knots at the back. You felt their weight drop when he removed the support and shied away momentarily when you noticed the outline of your nipples against the sheer fabric of the blouse.

Kento stepped down off the dais and out of sight, presumably to set the expensive corset down somewhere safe, while you were left to look at yourself in the truth of the light.

You looked yourself up and down, from the crown still sat on your head, to the antique sheer lace frills that decorated your neck, down to the black skirt and stockings on your feet.

There was a whiplash change in your attitude.

“Kento,” you cracked, no longer captivated by his alluring gaze, “what’s with the theatrics?”

The chuckle you let out was far more nervous sounding than you meant it to be. You hoped he didn’t notice- a silly thought perhaps. Kento Nanami never missed a beat.

“You’re right, I’d say I’ve given it enough time” he answered informally. As he continued, his voice grew louder, “I thought I could do away with these feelings after last night but—“ he stepped back up onto the dais and took his place behind you, “—I should have known it was a vain attempt at masking the truth.”

“What are you talking—“

But when your eyes met his again, you were once more under his spell. His eyes, so intense, pulled you under. It was far too easy to be lured in.

“What is this?” your voice pushed against your tightening throat, barely a whimper as your mouth formed the words.

“You simple children and your fairytales,” he murmured, he sounded almost amused as he pulled the length of your blouse from beneath the waist of the skirt, “wouldn’t know a Vampire until it was too late.”

The absurdity of his words made you splutter.

“Now I know I’m dreaming,” you shook your head, brought back down to earth with a slap across the face. “You’re drunk, aren’t you? That’s what this is about,” you rambled while you felt Kento’s fingers work at the buttons running down your back.

He raised his head, fingers already halfway up your back, and looked at you in the mirror. When he saw that you were unable to look away, Kento smirked.

“But I can clearly see you in the reflection,” you countered.

Kento took no notice.

“I never wanted it to be like this,” he told you, so candid while his hands were now at the back of your collar, “you’re far too precious for this world, let alone that one.”

You were almost sure you heard a sad twinge in his tone. He shook his head and scoffed.

“What—“

“We’re not fairytales,” his voice gently growled in your ear, you stopped dead. He began to peel your collar away to expose your neck, “and while not all of us are ferocious, bloodthirsty beasts, most of us are.”

You whined beneath his touch, soft where callouses should have been with his years of work, as he stroked the prominent vein in your neck. You figured it must have been pulsing away feverishly. Your heart feeling like it could burst out of your chest at any given moment.

“Are you ?” you finally croaked.

“I might be,” was his response as he held the blouse away from your body.

“Suppose I believe you,” you breathed, “you wouldn’t hurt me?”

Your eyes followed the blouse as it softly fell to the floor.

Kento snaked one hand through the gap between your waist and your arm, pressing his palm against the expanse of your stomach, and held your throat firmly with the other. You could feel your insides flutter and your pussy clench at the intimate and dangerous touch.

“I could,” he continued talking in his low growl and it did nothing but make your breathing more difficult as you tried to focus on the potential severity of the situation. “But I wouldn’t,” he continued, releasing your throat, “not without your permission.”

An involuntary little whimper escaped your lips.

“I don’t want to feed off just anybody,” he told you, Kento gripped your chin between his fingers again, forcing your eyes back to the mirror. “That’s where I was last night,” he confessed, not that you’d asked for the information, but he gave it willingly.

“Dr-drinking human blood?” you stuttered.

“It would have gone a bit like this, you know,” he breathed and you felt every hair on your body stand on end. “On a platform just like this, and in a room a bit emptier than this,” he continued, once again releasing your chin. “Are you imagining it?”

Kento stroked along your neck, along your shoulder and clavicle, down to where your breasts sat perfectly presented to him. You let your mind wander with his words, allowing the fantasy to wash over you in a wave as you closed your eyes.

“The others would look on, delirious with jealousy, lust, hunger for the remarkable creature of beauty as I present you to them,” he told you, plucking and rolling an already perky nipple between the fingertips of his forefinger and thumb.

When he pulled on your nipple, not only did your knees threaten to buckle beneath you, but an animalistic sound pushed past your lips that you didn’t even realise you could make. He hummed against your ear as he placed pressure against your stomach, holding your back to his chest. You were silently grateful for his support as he continued describing such a lewd scene.

“They would watch as I brought you to the brink of ecstasy,” he remarked, lightly tracing your skin as he moved his hand from breast to breast, “only to feed from you and do it all again with the intensity of a thousand suns.”

Kento felt your weight fall into him as your head rested against his shoulder, your breaths becoming heavy as your lips parted.

“Grant me this wish, pet?” he asked before you might have chance to open your eyes. “Let me taste you, in more ways than one, hmm?” He licked his lips; the thought alone was enough to tantalize him. “Let me make you feel things you never thought possible.” Kento’s breath was shallow as he persisted, grasping your whole breast in his hand with desperation. “Won’t you be mine?”

How many times had you thought about him in the lonely hours of the night when you couldn’t sleep, exploring your body in ways you wished he would, and now he was here practically pleading with you to let him do unimaginable things with him.

“Keep your eyes closed and tell me,” he sighed.

“What?” you managed, the image of him pleasuring you in the forefront of your mind, making it impossible to think of anything else.

“I want your permission,” he told you softly, “and not under the pretence of a Trance.”

“Is that why you always wear those ridiculous goggles?” you asked, finally putting together the pieces.

Kento couldn’t help but chuckle. “Smart and beautiful,” he said, “what a catch. But I’m serious, opening your eyes and agreeing to something like this, you might as well be giving away your soul if you believe in such things.”

Whether or not his squeeze of your breast was an incentive or not, it helped you come to a decision. You wanted more of him, you wanted all of him, and he wanted you.

“Yes,” you told him.

“Yes, what?” he asked, almost as breathless as you, his lips so close to your ear.

“I grant you permission to feed on me,” you gasped, the words themselves igniting something within you.

“A little formal, but I very much approve,” he exhaled as the hand at your stomach moved to your back. “But there’s something I have to do first.”

Kento easily pulled at the bow behind your back, letting the skirt fall from your waist. With the tulle being so excessive it held most of its shape, holding up at your knees. You gave a whimper of displeasure when he finally released your breast from his grip and gently pushed you into a full-standing position.

You opened your eyes to Kento circling in front of you. Stopping in front of you, he studied you from head to toe. The crown on your head still glistened in the lights and the rosiness in your cheeks matched the sparkle in your eyes. He enjoyed the way your breasts moved with your breaths.

His exceptional hearing gave him great pleasure from hearing your heart beat faster and faster under his watch, the way your blood rushed through your veins, the subtle changes in your breathing when his eyes hovered a little too long in any one place.

He especially enjoyed taking in the sight of your beautiful lace panties, delicate and sheer, they didn’t leave much to the imagination. Kento’s own resolve was now beginning to waver as his eyes gazed at the plump flesh above stockings held up with garter belts.

But, as a gentleman would, he offered an extended hand to help you out of the circle of tulle that submerged you from foot to knee. He held onto your hand as he removed the bulking skirt from the platform, guiding you back into the centre before he let his grip drop.

Stealing a glance at the back of him in the mirror, you wondered if he was still as formed and perfect beneath his clothes as he looked in his fitted top half and tailored slacks.

It was when Kento took a single step toward you, unclasping the front of his corseted waistcoat vest, you realised his sculpted body wasn’t just an illusion. You licked your lips hungrily as he dropped the ornate garment to the floor. When Kento heard your stiff gulp, he couldn’t help but let the corner of his lip curl up in a half-smirk; arrogant about his looks, he was not, but your reaction positively stroked his ego.

You watched in the mirror as his hand reached for your breast, where he gently traced the outline of its fullness. You let out a sharp, little gasp as he plucked your sensitive nipple between his fingers again. Giving it a soft, experimental twist, he lowered his head to your other breast and pressed his tongue to your nipple; your gentle moan as his lips sealed around your sensitive nub gave Kento all the feedback he needed.

Kento pressed the large palm of his free hand against your warm, naked back, steadying you whilst holding you as close to him as he possibly could. You reached instinctively for his golden hair, tousling it further with your desperate grasps while your other hand found purchase on his shoulder.

Removing his attention from your breasts garnered a desperate whine of disapproval from you, but when both of his hands converged on your back and his tender kisses began to trace a line down the expanse of your soft stomach, they soon turned to ones of pleasure.

Kento’s hands rested on your ass as he sank to the floor on his knees. Your stomach was doing somersaults as he gently kissed the delicate flesh above the waistband of your panties, and you found that both hands had found their way into his hair.

“Open your eyes,” he instructed.

You hadn’t even realised you’d closed them until he finally spoke, far too lost in how unexpectedly soft he was with you.

“I’m embarrassed,” you told him, feeling his hands start to pull at the silk hem above your ass, “I can’t look at myself.”

“Then look at me,” he told you. “You can do that, right?”

You opened one eye at him and then the other.

“Good girl.”

While you tried to fight the quiver in your body, Kento felt all the subtle changes; the wavering in your knees that threatened to buckle beneath you, your quickening heartbeat, and the strangled whine in your throat that followed the clenching in your pussy.

You looked at him, watching as he unclipped the garter from your panties, letting the ribbon hang from your stockings, and gently pulled them down. He was slow at first, but there was a hunger in his eyes when he looked at your pretty, little cunt, still half concealed by the black silk lace. He didn’t need to feel the damp fabric to know how wet you already were, your sweet scent already filling his senses.

“Beautiful,” he mumbled, sounding half-drunk as he pulled the panties down your legs in a rush.

You followed his lead when he lifted your feet up, one after the other, to step out of your underwear, leaving you to stand with your legs apart.

Kento rested his hands in his lap and looked up at you, an unexpectedly submissive position that only lasted a brief moment while he collected himself.

You watched, breathlessly, holding eye contact as he traced the silky skin of your inner thighs with his thumbs. You fought the urge to close your eyes as Kento rose on his heels slightly, but you became a little frustrated when you felt a hand at your back again and just one hand at your eager sex.

“Stop teasing me,” you gasped, feeling his fingers part your lips.

Kento hummed with delight as he pressed his middle finger against your swollen clit, already so slick with your wetness, he traced tiny circles.

“I’m not so sure I’ll be able to stop myself once I start,” he confessed, the circles changing to a forward and backward motion, moving further and further toward your hole with each stroke.

“I don’t care,” you gasped, trying, but failing, to urge his head closer to where you needed him.

“Even just your scent,” he continued, and he sounded just as breathless as you, “you’re intoxicating.”

You moaned as he gave in to your pleas, inserting a single finger into your warm, wet, welcoming cunt.

“More,” you whimpered, your eyelids fluttering, hips gently arching into him as he supported your back.

“How could I say no to that,” he smirked, his warm breath against your mound as he edged closer to your exposed slit.

Your breaths were short and quick, ragged almost, and your blood rushed to your head as he curled his finger inside you. His warm tongue pressed against your clit and your eyes threatened to roll back into your head when he took the swollen nub into his mouth and gently suckled on it.

Gibberish rolled from your lips, a thousand nerve endings sending sparks through your body when he hummed against your clit. You felt the vibrations through his tongue, and his humming turned to a gradual moan when he felt your wetness pool on his hand as he continued to fuck you with a single finger.

You were so pliant with him beneath you. He wondered what his bite would do to you if you were already so eager. It could drive a man wild.

Letting the thought take him he closed his eyes, growling as he moved his hands to grab at the flesh of your hips. You gasped, crying out when he removed his finger, but it was short-lived when his tongue eagerly darted from clit to cunt. He sounded like a man desperate for water as he lapped you up. Your own strangled noises were no better as he plunged deep within you, desperate for him to be deeper and deeper, still.

While his long, wide tongue expertly explored your walls, you felt a warm coil begin to wind in your lower abdomen and your head felt fluffy and disconnected. The only thoughts, the only feelings, were those of pure pleasure.

Kento opened his eyes to look up at you. He moaned into your cunt and removed his tongue, smacking his lips together before he spoke. Your pussy twitched around the emptiness; eyes tightly closed as you bit your lip, leaving you on the thin edge before orgasm.

“Open them,” he demanded, his chin slick with your wetness, “look at me while you cum.”

A suppressed moan broke through your lips as you obeyed him, you would give anything to cum, anything to cum for him. Tilting his head up, Kento’s gaze was almost frightening as he pulled your hips into him, taking your clit into his mouth again.

“Kento,” you breathed, shuddering.

“Hmm?” he hummed, tongue dancing across your clit.

“Please,” you panted, holding eye contact, “tongue.”

You watched as his eyes seemed to grow darker, his brow furrowing as he entered you with his tongue. Your grip on his hair tightened as he darted in and out, in and out, until he would stop for a moment, teasing you as he waited for your push against his head to reel him back in. Even at your most vulnerable moment, teetering on the edge of an intense orgasm, Kento couldn’t help but tease you, just a little.

He could feel you were close, your walls so tight he could barely move his tongue when he dragged his nails across the flesh of your hips. You cried his name from in ragged breaths, furrowing your brow as you tried to keep your sustained eye contact.

“Kento,” you wept as the pleasure rolled over you in a wave and you let your eyes close. “Fuck.”

Kento moaned his own sweet song as he gently massaged your hips, drinking in your sweet, syrupy cum as your body threatened to fall limp in his arms.

As you stood there, inner thighs spasming, knees wobbling, Kento gently kissed the soft, plush space between your pubic bone and belly button. He softly chuckled when you looked down at him, your face bright and flushed, your lips plump and wet.

“A beautiful angel,” he mused between the butterfly kisses that trailed up your stomach, his hands moving up your body with him as his lips peppered up your sternum, “tastes just as sweet as she looks.”

Kento held you in place, hands either side of your waist. When he circled, holding you from behind, his reflection showed his lips twisting into a devilish smile that could never be human, eyes glistening with a dark desire.

Your own eyes were bloomed, barely a sliver of iris to be seen. With your breathing still fast and erratic, you were still unable to bring yourself down.

“Don’t worry,” he whispered, leaning into your ear, “it won’t hurt for long.”

His breathing was the only thing you could hear in the silence of the room, warm against your ear, then against your neck. You watched in the mirror as Kento gently kissed your neck before opening his mouth up wide; it was the first time you had seen his fangs, sharp, dangerous, and they were like needles as they sank into the flesh of your neck.

Your pained yelp soon turned to shameless moaning as your body writhed beneath him, his Venom taking effect almost immediately. He watched you in the mirror, his eyes blooming as your blood hit his tongue. He watched as you twisted and whined, crossing your legs as your clit thrummed while your hands reached for Kento’s hands.

“Save some energy, pet,” he whispered, lapping at your wounds with his tongue, “I’m just getting started.”

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