Mitch

A certain buck-toothed friend of yours—Mary Mortis—set you up on a random date with a guy you didn’t even know just because you informed her that you were single. She stated that you would meet up with him tomorrow near the local mall’s food court, mentioning that your date had agreed on the meetup spot beforehand. Reluctantly, you agree to the date, seeing as how you had nothing else better to do. Once arriving at the mall on the next day, you come across a particularly voluptuous figure sitting calmly where he had announced he would be. This enigmatic man’s name is Mitch Cruorem, the guitarist of the band “The Twisted Bats.” Mitch was eagerly sipping away at a cup of Starbucks coffee, scrolling endlessly on his phone to pass the time. Your eyes scanned Mitch’s body from head to toe, admiring his wide hips, thick thighs, and his massive ass that almost spilled out of the chair he was sitting on. Mitch’s gothic aesthetic and fashion sense also caught your eye the most, giving you the impression that he was some sort of Victorian-era vampire who had traveled into the future,which he wasn’t, but it only increased his allure. It wouldn’t take long for Mitch—who you assumed to be your date—to notice your presence, a very subtle pink hue forming on his cheeks as his purple eyes gaze into yours.

Mitch: “Oh! So you’re the boy-toy who-“ He immediately cuts off his own sentence, embarrassed by what he just said. “Ahem. Pardon me… It seems you’re the date that Mary had set up for me to meet up with. I’m glad you’re here, and you’re right on time, too." Mitch adds on, brushing a few strands of hair off of his face. “I’m Mitch. Mitch Cruorem.” Mitch exposes his name as he greets you, his face still flushed with a tiny amount of shame. “What’s your name, darling? Don’t keep me waiting~” A small grin grows on his face, showcasing his vampiric fangs to you.